#alas I lack the ability to add sound

[lynxgriffin]

Oh hey, they found a big salt lick! Please imagine the little Yoshi mlem noises here.

(Also, thank you for the kind words!!)

[wonsheep]

TIME: 3:26 AM

TITLE: into you

series masterlist

featuring | park jongseong (jay)

warnings | alcohol consumption, reader was tipsy before kissing, but sobers up, lmk if i should add anything!

genre | fluff

word count | 762 words

a/n | i'm in love with jay, also this is not proof-read, i'm sorry

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

The muffled sounds of music blaring from the club accompany you and Jay on the dimly lit streets. You only started enjoying yourself in there, moving your body to the rhythm between the sweaty bodies of the club attendees around you.

But at this moment, you are standing outside with this young man known as your closest friend, your ears are ringing a little and you feel a little light-headed. Jay holds onto your arms so as to steady your slightly wobbly form and you whine.

“The party only begun like,” You flick your head to the side to get some hair out of your face. “This second.”

“No, it ended just now.” Jay sighs, used to this. “You’ve already had too much.”

“I’m not even drunk.” You whine, tugging Jay with you towards the source of deep bass thumping. “C’mon, Jay, you’re no fun.”

“I’m really just trying to keep you safe here.” Jay’s grasp on you stays firm, but gentle. The skin is warm on your arms where this fingers are holding onto you.

“If you’re so worried, why did you agree to coming here in the first place…”

Jay pretends to think for a second, but he knows the answer already.

He wasn’t able to resist your pleading. He never was, not even at the start of your friendship, but as he started feeling closer to you, then attracted, your effect on him only grew tenfold.

Obviously, Jay did not plan on falling for you – someone he felt might be unattainable and his complete opposite in personality, but alas, no one had the ability to choose who their heart yearns for.

So he is stuck in the friendzone, a place where he put himself in the first place. He tries to pass it off as him being a protective friend, but really, it’s obvious to all his friends that he has feelings for you.

“Mmh. I know now.” A lopsided smile makes its way onto your face as you finally straighten up from your hunched-over position.

You lean dangerously close to Jay’s parted lips and you whisper.

“You’re into me.”

A moment of silence passes. Jay’s breath is caught in his throat. He feels as if the world has stopped around him, leaving him and you in this very place in time forever. The noises from the club, the chatter of a few people walking by, the howling of a dog from afar, everything seems to be muted.

Jay looks at you, really looks. Your eyes are sparkling at him, the dim, warm tones of the streetlamps around illuminate your face and he thinks he’s wouldn’t want to be anywhere else right now.

You start laughing a second after, moving away from his face, as if you’ve just told the best joke of year or the century, even.

“’M just kidding.” You sigh, almost as if you’re disappointed by his lack of response. “I know you don’t like me like that.”

“And who told you that?” Jay finds his voice again, moving his hands so that he’s holding onto your wrists now, softer than before.

“Huh? I thought- I know you see me as a friend.”

“How are you so sure?” It’s Jay’s turn to crowd into your space now, leaning closer, meeting your confused gaze with determined eyes.

You don’t have a reply to that.

If you hadn’t sobered up until now, Jay’s warm palm sliding up your arm and only stopping to rest on your cheek would have removed any effect the alcohol had on you.

Jay darts his eyes around your face, searching for a sign that you wanted him to stop and move as far away from you as possible, but he only finds an amused glint to your stare.

Still, you’re the one who makes the final move to close the space between your bodies. You press your chest to Jay’s and your lips to his plump ones. Your hands find their way to the nape of his neck, caressing the hair growing there.

The kiss doesn’t last long by any means, but mere minutes feel like hours with Jay pulling you impossibly closer to him, as if he was trying to touch every part of you at once.

You two part after a while, just staring at each other in dazed silence.

“I guess you really are into me.” You smile with adoration.

“As you are into me.” Jay mimics your expression, but doesn’t let you say anything else as he leans in to kiss you again, as long as you’ll let him.

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

permanent taglist |

@soobin-chois

[kalu-luwa]

ever in your favor pt.1

a.k.a a twisted wonderland hunger games fanfic, featuring mostly everyone from here and especially sasha (@simpingseafood's oc)

based off of @tunabesimpin's​ hunger games event (link here, same as previous link lmao)

THIS IS A PROLOGUE TYPE OF THING I’LL ADD MORE LATER

cw/tw: OOC for many characters (sasha and canon characters included, sorry), violence, gore, swearing, mentions of alcohol, i’ll keep adding as i go along

(under the cut for dash length)

If there was any god out there, Nephtali was sure they hated them. 

Why else would they be sent as tribute to be killed in the name of entertainment?

It was a little too late for the fisher to complain however, as they stood before the Cornucopia. Any second now, and the gun would fire. Any second now, and the madness begins.

Any second now, and their fate would be sealed.

-

What did Neph even do to get here? The career tributes might’ve been a better choice. Hell, as far as they know, they probably weren't even on the census. Life in Panem meant a life of strict social castes and a large wealth gap. District 4 was no exception, with Neph being one of the unfortunate many.

Alas, not even poverty could keep them out of the Games. Nor their lack of sight, for that matter.

Their fellow tribute was, to them, one of the middle-class. A tall man with a lanky figure, who called himself 'Sasha'.

A wonderful name, Nephtali thought as they shook hands, defender of mankind.

But they didn't trust him immediately. Just because he was the District's other tribute didn't mean they were friends. What if he had something else to gain from this? Would he betray them for his own reasons? 

Would they get hurt if they trusted him?

-

The key to winning this, Neph concluded, was to keep the both of them alive for as long as possible. They were still on uncharted territory when it came to Sasha, but that was a can of worms they would open another time.

Right now, it was time for the sponsors to pick their favored tribute.

All these tributes had their own unique ability. Some of them could even control magic. One of them could turn anything into sand, so they heard. Another could shapeshift into a catfish. Everything was teeming with magic in one way or another. 

Everything, everyone, but them. 

Magic was valuable, highly sought after, a luxury only few could afford and a power less could reliably wield. Of course they wouldn't have any of those, what would they even do with it? 

Sasha was missing. Or, at least, Neph couldn't hear him nearby. Maybe he was finished for the day? But Neph wanted to maximize their chances of winning. If they could get even one sponsor, their chances of winning would increase… not like they were particularly lucky in the first place. But what could they do?

Their greatest asset was probably their hearing. Echolocation works wonders when your eyes are decommissioned. Maybe even their spatial awareness. Quick thinking? Rapid reflexes?

"Oi, herbivore, are you just gonna sit there?" A gruff voice called out to them, stalking its way towards them. "'Cause if you are, then move over."

The voice… it sounded like one of the District 2 tributes. Maybe the lion man, the one who could disintegrate whatever he touched. That made sense; the wealthy District 2 was known for its strength and masonry. 

"Are you even listening, or are you just deaf?" They snapped out of their stupor, lifting their head to where they thought the voice came from.

"Apologies, I was… just thinking about things,” they hastily stood up, dusting off their shirt. “I’m not- I can’t see very well. I didn’t notice you.”

“A blind tribute…?” The lion man chuckled, flopping down where Neph used to be. “Heh, how pitiful.”

“... excuse me?”

“You heard me.” He yawned, rolling over to stare at the fisher, “This is a game to the death. Herbivores like you… well, they don’t last very long.”

There was truth to his words. Truly, he was right… but goddamn, did Neph want to wipe the floor with his ass. “We’ll see about that.”

There was no point in garnering enemies this early on.

-

The rest of it went by in a blur. The sponsorships, the training sessions, the tribute interviews… All that really mattered to them was getting out of this shithole alive. See their family again. Run away from Panem… if that was even achievable. Sasha had come up with a plan, apparently, during his small disappearance earlier on.

Keep each other alive for as long as possible. Avoid the others as much as you can. Take only the bare essentials. Don’t ever get separated.

Today was their last training session before the games. Everyone was on high alert, suspicious of anything that even looked their way. The District 4 tributes were in their own corner, building strength and shaking their nerves off as best as they could. Sasha was still discussing their plan, his hushed voice keeping Nephtali tethered to reality.

“-and if we do this right, then we’ll be able to make it to the final day,” he finished, grunting as he completed a pull-up, “So, whaddya say, Neph?”

…

“Neph?”

“How do I know I can trust you?” The fisher blurted out, cross-legged on the floor.

“Huh?”

“How do I know you won’t betray me? String me along for the ride then kill me at the last minute?” They turned to face him, brows furrowed and eyes sharpened. “How do I know I’m not just a pawn in your game of 4D chess?”

The other tribute sighed. “You’re asking a very difficult question, Neph.”

“I’m still waiting on my answer.”

“Okay, okay, fine. How about this,” Sasha leapt down from the bars, hands on his hips, "When it's just the two of us left, we can force the Capitol to elect both of us as winners."

"What? That's impossible, no one's ever heard of two victors."

“We'll be the first,” there's an odd lilt to his tone, like he was planning something. “This is just a gameshow to the Capitol, we’re just here for entertainment. We’re only kept alive if we’re pleasing them, so if we play into their favor and keep away from the others, we’ll be fine.”

“What if they make us fight each other? What then?”

“Ever heard of Katniss and Peeta?”

[innovativestruggles]

ObiRin Misconception - Obito’s Trauma

Okay why is it that I am seeing so many obirin hate lately? Let me clear up some misunderstandings. This is by no means a post for people to change their minds about shipping obirin (ship whoever you want, it’s not my business), rather, people are disliking this ship for reasons I find ... well... baffling. 

So here is my perspective (and no, it does not invalidate another’s perspective in any way just in case you’re wondering).

I have always been an avid obirin shipper, and as a feminist, people may question the contradictory nature of this.

Obito is in an incredibly complex character and alas, there is a reason why I absolutely love him. He is my favourite, has always been and will always be (also, he’s a villain and he’s hot). Though there are parallels between Obito and Naruto, it’s important to distinguish the nuances. Both characters had no family growing up (I am not going to count Obito’s grandma as she is an anime only character and not technically canon), had it tough at the Academy, disliked by a lot of people and technically an outlier. However, Obito never had an older mentor growing up, whereas Naruto did (that would be Iruka). When children are growing and developing, having someone to provide that nurturing environment and guidance is crucial for their mental and physical development. Because neither of them had their families, Naruto was lucky that he had Iruka. Iruka provided that big brother figure, the mentor and in some ways a caring environment for Naruto, despite the hardships. Obito, however, did not receive any of this. 

What Obito did have, was Rin. The two have been childhood friends for a very long time. Rin gave Obito that sense of security and attachment, despite them being the same age. She always cared for him and saw him more than just some dumbass nuisance Uchiha outlier. Obito’s love for Rin transcended romance. Of course the romance was the overt part, but his love for her was his sense of security. She was his safe space. When a child grows up without love or care from a parenting figure or a mentor, they will find ways to cope and latch onto the closest thing they can find safety and comfort in. Rin took on this role. So when Rin was killed before him, naturally there would be a sense of deep despair and anger. The trauma for Obito was remarkably intense, and his ability to bounce back from adversities was nullified. Why? Because;

1) The intensity of the trauma, grief and loss 

and 

2) The safety net, safe space and sense of security that shielded him from the world’s adversities were gone. Obito had nowhere to go.

A lot of people would say: “but he had Minato,” “he had Kakashi,” “he had Kushina.” Yes he did, and they were kind to him (minus Kakashi, and I will get to him in a sec) but they only came into his life for a short period of time. Their interactions were not on an intense level as it was with he and Rin. People need to remember that Obito learnt his idea of safe attachment on his own and he latched onto Rin. He was never taught to do that with adults as he grew older. Naruto however, had Iruka, who most likely taught him a lot of things about the importance of the village, the importance of camaraderie, friendship etc Obito did not have this, so naturally, his ability to trust adults (even loving kind ones like Minato and Kushina) would take a lot longer or sit very tentatively. If there were conflict or adversity, he would run to Rin, or think of her because that was all he knew.

If you unpack Obito’s character, there were immense attachment issues and trauma that most likely transcended what Naruto had. Naruto had his fair share of trauma but he had support that allowed for some resiliency. Obito was NOT obsessed with Rin. He was not infatuated with her. He was psychologically intermeshed with her. This is very different from so called obsession and infatuation. Psychological intermeshment stems from traumatic upbringing in childhood (lack of nurturance from an adult caregiver, abandonment etc), and then again from losing their sense of security/safety (Rin in this case). Because Obito was so intermeshed with Rin, losing her was essentially losing himself - and he blatantly said this. He lost all hope when she died. So he did what he could to get that sense of security back, even if what he did was questionable.

Then you have the complexity of the curse of hatred that intertwines the storyline, which make things even more complicated. But this curse was what pushed the storyline and placed Obito as an antagonist. He did not start a war because of a girl. He started a war because he was angry with the way the world functioned. How the countless wars kept ending lives and taking loved ones away from people. He did not want people to go through what he went through. In essence, this mindset has villain written all over it, but it also compels a strong backstory for Obito because of his complex childhood upbringing and the trauma he experienced.

We move to Kakashi, who had his fair share of childhood trauma. But people need to remember that he had a father who provided that nurturing environment for him. Even if his father died in tragic circumstances, Kakashi, though traumatised, was able to bounce back and push forward with the support of his friends and village. He had an adult attachment figure (gosh I sound so social workey but this is how it is) where he learnt how to tackle adversities. Again, with the death of Rin, there was trauma there for him too. So why was it so different between Obito, Kakashi and Naruto? The latter two being able to bounce back and push forward but Obito lost control? It all comes back to childhood upbringing and the presence of an adult caregiver/mentor. That, and then again, the presence of the curse of hatred (which was why Sasuke was pretty fucked up despite coming from a loving family). 

Something else I’d like to add re; Kakashi. He started being nice to Obito in that one episode where they were trying to locate Rin. He was a plain asshole before that. So technically the two of them were never on friendly terms before this event. Kakashi did not give two shits about anything aside from completing the mission. This is the reason why I do not ship Obito x Kakashi. To me there was no love, care and nurturing between those two. Obito “died” not long after being friendly with Kakashi, so that wouldn’t warrant a ship between those two. Whereas with Rin, it is a different story. Also, for those of you who thinks it is creepy that Obito has photos of Rin on his board, I’d be surprised if your 12-13yo self didn’t put love hearts of your crush over their school photos, or tested your marriage names together. Seriously.

So to summarise; Lack of childhood nurturance + lack of adult caregiver + trauma + curse of hatred = Obito

And like I said, just because of all this crap Obito’s been through, it does not excuse what he did or make what he did right (he was a villain after all).

Yeah okay rant over.

I’m open to discussion, but please keep it civil.

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

Avenger Things - Bucky Barnes x powered (f)reader

Summary: You’re just trying to make it through the day without breaking anything, or anyone.

Warning: language, fluff, bit of nonesense

Masterlist

Practically limping into the Avengers large kitchen you couldn’t believe how sore you were from, well, let’s just say you’re not entirely so sure. What you do know is that it’s the morning after a stealth mission and your more beastly self, if that’s even the correct term, must have done or gotten into something last night that might have knocked you out cold. 

Hence the memory loss.

Honestly you could laugh, it’s like trying to figure out what drunk you was getting themselves into. Problem is, this “drunk you” at the time was 2.4lb of absolute raging adrenaline with an apparent lack of safety awareness and good judgment skills. 

Not a good combination. Also you were a hawk.

So here you are, piecing together the jumbled puzzle of last night while you make an attempt at finding breakfast before the crowds come noisily shuffling into the temporarily quiet hang out room slash luxurious kitchen, of the famous Avengers Facility. Ah, the life of an Avenger who’s fantastical ability allows them to shift into any animal in existence.

Although it’s a blessing, you sometimes suffer the consequences of being an actual avenger, and shit, your left shoulder and rib cage are so sore right now you could scream. Your accelerated healing has already kicked in but alas that does not mean your body will spare you some soreness and bruising.

“Fuck what did I do?” You mutter grumpily while reaching for the fridge door handle, making certain not to pull to hard for fear of ripping the metal right off.

Soon your eyes scan over the multitude of various healthy snacks and equally as healthy leftovers due to Steve’s insistent attitude towards fueling yourselves with the best, to be the best or some cheesy hero shit like that.

Spotting your left over hidden burrito in the back of the fridge sends an excited thrill into your otherwise tired and achy self, you snatch it up quickly, and without thinking pull the metal door off its hinges while quickly trying to close it.

Shit.

Tossing the burrito onto the nearby counter top, you swiftly grasp the large food filled door with both hands as you hold it up with ease. Well this is just a fantastic situation isn’t it? Apparently you’re incapable of having an easy morning like just previously planned. Wait are those footsteps?

“You know, you can just have Tony buy you a mini fridge for your room.” Quips Sam with an amused chuckle as you quickly snap your head over to the startling sound. “I think he could afford it.” 

Your eyes widen in surprise before narrowing in annoyance at his happily smirking face, Bucky and Vision right behind him to your great pissed-off-ness. “Fuck off I didn’t mean to do....this.” But of course it happens to me.

Eyeing you up with a face that practically says “I know but this is hilarious” Sam nods before sitting down on the bar’s stool, Vision coming to your aid as he phases through the counter to take the fridge door out of your hands.

“Thanks Vis.” You mutter with an appreciative nod.

Setting down the door onto the floor, Vision turns to greet you, “No problem Y/N, it appears you needed the help, I’ll just um....go inform Tony of this....fridge.” He says before turning to leave out the way he came. Guess he’s not one for awkward situations.

Watching him go you suddenly glare down at the two whispering Avengers seated in front of you on the other side of the counter, “Thanks for helping assholes.” You growl unenthusiastically, reaching into the fridge to pick up a water bottle.

“Oh doll, we would have helped you.” Assures Bucky with a kind smile as you force yourself to keep a stoic face. “Vision seemed to handle it pretty well on his own.”

“Yeah well now this fucking fridge is broken and I still feel sore.” You complain with a sneer as Bucky and Sam share a chuckle.

“What?” Laughs Sam, “Don���t tell me you both?....and after the mission too?” He implies with raised brows as you send him the most done-with-your-shit face you can muster.

Sensing your growing irritation, Bucky speaks up, “No, no....definitely not that..it was the mission.”

“Oh shit you’re right.” Realizes Sam as you roll your eyes at him, let’s just say that last mission was a rough ending one. Also you can’t remember much after shifting into a hawk, seeing some bright lights and then...

“Yes.” You grumble, “and I’ve come to the thrilling conclusion that I must have gotten hit by a car......so that’s fun.” You mutter with as much enthusiasm as a stick, causing both Bucky and Sam to begin laughing again. What the hell is so funny?

Listening to them lose it inevitably causes you to start chuckling which in turn causes your ribs to shoot with a hot flaring pain. Holding your injured side you use your other hand to pound against the marble table, “Stop laughing this shit hurts and neither of you dumbfucks are helping.” You grumble half-heartedly.

“Alright.” Says Bucky standing up, “Come on doll let’s get outta here and get a heating pad on that tire mark under your shirt.” He adds sarcastically with another laugh.

Letting out a quick snort you shake your head at his handsome face, “Okay smartass I’ll let that one slide.”

He smirks at your good humored reaction and admittedly adorable messy hair, “I’m thinking we get cozy, watch that weird pirate movie you like with the Sparrow guy, and then see where it takes us.” Suggests Bucky with a lazy smile as he stretches his arm causing his shirt to rise up and reveal a bit of toned tummy.

Sam whines, “What? We have sparring at three this afternoon and you’re gonna leave me hanging for Miss. Grouchy-pants over here?” Points out Sam to Bucky as you cross your hands over your chest while raising a brow.

“Yup.” Quips Bucky with a shrug.

Sam blinks, “Unbelievable.”

“I like Y/N more.”

“You suck and I need a new sparring partner now.”

“Just ask Steve or Nat.” You suggest, not caring much for Sam’s problems at the moment.

“No they’re hard-core and mean.”

“Spar with Clint then.” Adds Bucky.

“No he cheap shots.”

“And I got hit by a car last night we all got problems.” You sass, gaining their distracted attentions once again. “Try and steal Bucky from me and I will make sure you remember what getting a wet towel slapped across your ass feels like.”

“Very specific and greatly noted Y/N. He’s all yours.” Says Sam while raising his hands defensively, “By the way you look rather stunning today did I mention that yet?”

“Don’t press your luck bird boy I’m not known to be very forgiving.”

“Clearly.” Jabs Sam under his breath while you take a swig of water, though you’re increased hearing enables you to catch that loud and clear.

After twisting the cap back on you immediately chuck it at his head, conveniently nailing him right in the temple causing him to yelp in surprise. “Jesus!” He shouts before falling off of the stool and onto the wooden floor below.

“Nope just me.” You deadpan with a satisfied smirk, walking over to Bucky while Sam gathers his bearings.

Bucky immediately throws an arm around you, making sure not to squeeze you too tight in the process. Leaning into his warm side, Sam throws you a half annoyed glare, showing how much he’d like to retaliate but also knowing he’s outnumbered in more ways then one.

“As much as I’d like to see you two beat each other’s ass right now.” Suddenly announces Steve, “We have a mission report in five.”

“What?” You sigh in annoyance, “Really? Right now? Can’t this shit wait?”

Steve sends you an apologetic smile, understanding you’re still in pain and thus very grouchy, “It’ll be quick. The team just needs to go over some credentials about the mission yesterday. Then you can go about your day off.”

Holding Bucky close, you pull him in a little closer, eyeing up Steve defensively, “Bucky too.”

Steve gives you an unsure look, “Well uh...”

“That wasn’t a question Rogers.” You growl, causing Steve to take a cautious step back as Sam lets out a chuckle.

“Yeah Cap I wouldn’t.”

“Right.” Nods Steve, “Yeah, you two are off the rest of the day after the meeting. Uh, see you guys then.” Waves the man with a plan himself, smartly deciding not to linger for much longer or face another steely glare from you.

“Fine. Let’s get this over with.” You mutter, parting from Bucky to lead the way down the hall to the usual meeting room.

——

After nudging Bucky to go on ahead to claim your unofficial official meeting chairs, you swung by your room to put on a sweatshirt and now are finally, though begrudgingly, making your merry way down the hall and into the expensive meeting room. 

Hood up, you trudge into the brightly lit area, practically squinting as the sunshine hits you like a blinding wall through the obnoxiously giant glass windows. “Nice of you to join us Y/N. Get lost on your way here?” Quips Clint as the whole entirety of the Avenger’s turn their heads to face you. 

“No, I just didn’t want to come.” You deadpan with a humored glare, earning a couple snickers from your friends. 

“Yeah that’s fair.” He shrugs.

Plopping yourself down in the facility’s decently comfortable swivel chair, you slouch tiredly, leaning your body against the arm rest to keep your bruised side from bothering you more then it already does.

Bucky is already in the seat to your left, Sam opting to snatch the one across from you two, while Vision and Wanda have claimed the seats to Sam’s right. Natasha and Steve sitting at the two chairs at the far end to your left, while Clint stands. 

“So...” Begins Clint, the apparent leader of todays meeting, “Yesterday’s mission in Quebec was a challenging one, I won’t lie to you. We took a hit, some more then others.” Nods Clint in your direction.

“You’re fucking hilarious.” You mutter, rolling your eyes in annoyance as Sam and Bucky hold in their laughter, while the others ignore the obvious implication, keeping it professional and in your good graces. 

“Thank you Y/N I know. Anyways, I think our team training days have improved our performance and been worthwhile. Now, as usual, Steve and Nat...great leadership skills. Vision, Wanda, the whatever the shit you guys are able to do, amazing...keep it up.” Clint glances back down at his notes while you yawn, “Sam and Bucky, nice recovery at the end, things where getting heated and you both really pulled through.”

“Hell yeah.” Smirks Sam as he leans over to fist bump Bucky from across the table.

Practically lowering yourself deeper into your seat, you mentally prepare yourself for whatever smartass comment you’re about to get from Clint. He looks down at his notes then moves to pick up a thin metal remote that connects to the blank screen behind him. 

“Uhh lets see here,” He mumbles while clicking some buttons that inevitably turn the screen on, “Okay good it works.” Swiveling around on his heal, Clint points the remote directly at you, “Y/N.” He says with a mischievous grin.

“Clint.” You point back in confusion, side eyeing Wanda nervously.

“Let’s talk...” Stretching out his arm, he clicks the remote to reveal a PowerPoint, “about safety awareness.”

Okay fuck you.

Chuckling tensely you shake your head, “I’d rather not.”

“Which is precisely why we...meaning you all,” Motions Clint to all of you with both his hands in two circles, “need to be educated on safety in the field.” A second later he flicks the lights off with a swift click of the remote, Okay great.....slide number one, do you have a buddy?”

As Clint keeps droning on and on for the next five minutes you suddenly decide to scoot over to rest your chin against Bucky’s right shoulder that's leaning against the table. He immediately smiles, turning his head away from an obliviously jabbering Clint, “Buck I’m going to commit a crime in the next two minutes if I don’t get the fuck out of here.” You whisper, squeezing his shoulder for emphasis.

Biting his lip to refrain from laughing, he reaches to take one of your hands with his, “And what crime will I have to admit in the police report?” He quietly muses.

“Murder.”

Kissing the pack of your hand to help you try and relax for the moment, he smirks, “Y/N it’s going to be difficult to break you out of jail.”

“Not if I don’t get caught.” You quip smartly while resting your head against his shoulder, “I’ve been contemplating taking out Clint since 2012 but then Natasha always stops me.”

“What’s stopping you now?” Challenges Bucky with the tiniest snort of amusement.

“Natasha.” You mutter, “Also I’m god-mother to one of his kids so I’m morally not allowed to kill him.....but I’ve never been more tempted then today.” 

“Shh.” Whispers Bucky with an amused smile as you roll your eyes, wanting nothing more then to leave this boring meeting. Fine, but if it was just me and Clint I would pummel his ass into the wall without a second thought, you think to yourself.

A moment later Wanda lets out a random snort of laughter that causes the team to look over at her in confusion while Clint is in the middle of explaining why it’s important to (make sure the enemy is knocked the fuck out before walking away). She quickly covers her mouth in embarrassment as Clint abruptly ends the PowerPoint, clicking back the lights on as he sighs in disappointment.

“Come on Wanda I was almost done.” He whines, setting a hand on his hip as she bites her lip to keep a straight face. Parting from Bucky, you move to lean yourself against the table top and listen to Clink complain. She looks down then glances over at you while Clint fumbles to turn the screen off. 

Oh, shit did she hear me say that?

“Sorry.” Mutters Wanda as you quickly realize you’re the reason she started to laugh, resulting in the abrupt ending of Clint’s 30 minute presentation. 

Giving her a quick wink, you quickly stand, causing your friends to look over at you, “Alright, good work team, we’re the best huh,” You add sarcastically before looking directly at Clint, “also Clint fantastic work at being the most interesting 87 year old, I’m thoroughly impressed you even know what a PowerPoint is. Kudos to you, I’m out.”

Before anyone can stop you, you’re already at the door, “Y/N you can’t just leave we’re only taking a break. And I already know how to use a PowerPoint.”

“Yeah and you also know how to put someone to sleep even without an arrow.” You sass while the others start to get up as well. 

“What? Guys, come on.” Complains Clint as Bucky almost trips shuffling quickly to the door.

“Babe I’m with you wait up.”

——

“So you really did get smacked by a truck. Who would’ve thought.” Mumbles Bucky humorously as the two of you lay sprawled out on your shared bed, a heating pad on your side as Bucky’s head lays on the corner of your right hip. His hands absentmindedly holding your right hand to his chest while your other one presses the heating pad to your ribs.

You lazily stare up at the ceiling while he studies your face, “I guess it makes sense since I can’t remember anything after that. I didn’t even see the damn hunk of moving metal coming either, so stupid.”

“No.” He assures softly, “We all fuck up and miss things sometimes. It happens to everyone.”

Smiling you simply roll your eyes, “Bucky you’re adorable but I, who was a hawk at the time....to be real here, got bitch slapped by a truck.”

“I’ve been thrown off a car a couple times actually.” He confirms with a shrug, “But yeah, you’re way tougher then me.” He finally chuckles.

“I’m tougher then everyone.”

Bucky smiles proudly, “Fuck yeah you are.”

[kirindensetsu]

The Making of Fubuki

((Reposting from Den of Angels workshop thread because I wanted my friends to be able to see~))

After years of pining after dolls I couldn't afford as a broke teenager, my first BJD was a Bobobie Sprite I purchased for my 18th birthday. Unfortunately, she didn't live up to my expectations and I never really bonded with her. Her face was cute enough, but the Bobobie body lacked the grace and posing ability I imagined for the Unseelie faerie I'd been daydreaming of for years. Sueding and wiring didn't help, blushing and tattooing highlighted her blockiness, it was a mess. I packed her away and tried not to think about my disappointment for 12 years. In the meantime I learned to build and paint resin garage kits, inherited one of my sister's dolls, bought some others, took anatomy & physiology in college, and did a couple extensive restorations and full-body modifications. I was sure I had thrown her away at some point as a failed project, but last weekend I found her tucked away in a doll bag I thought was empty. Having just finished substantial mods on a Dollshe body, and awaiting an unfinished Unoa kit for my birthday in September, I decided that I owed it to her to try again. Doll nudity below the cut, looooong post--

My Sprite was originally going to be a pooka with golden eyes and extensive woad tattoos. The golden eyes are incredible, so those are staying, but she's now going to be a blue oni to fit in with the rest of my collection. My plan is to do extensive additive epoxy work, and then to use Krylon Fusion to give everything a unified finish. The goal of the project is to reduce the... idk, STRAIGHTNESS of the old Bobobie body. I was never going to be happy with it, the lines were all far too rigid.

Head: Modified mouth for a wider, smirking smile. Magnets added to headcap (old Bobobie used an S-hook iirc; I did this part back in 2008). Forehead drilled for 3mm brass rod armature, and epoxy used to sculpt horns over rod. Bust: Substantial subtractive modifications to breasts, which involved removal and readdition of nipples. Addition of epoxy clay to back and shoulders to give a more curved body line in profile. Deepening of shoulder sockets with 18mm eye bevel, followed by sanding to make shoulders narrower. Waist: Reshaping of upper torso joint into sphere for smoother range of motion. Subtraction of resin in back and addition of epoxy in front to enhance lumbar curve. Hips: Substantial reshaping of lower waist seam to more naturally follow the pelvic girdle. It reminded me of granny panties before  Added epoxy to butt, again for lumbar curve. Thighs: Suwariko joint mod (cut the thigh and added a PVC insert to enable swivelling at the hip). Added epoxy to make her thighs look less straight. Calves: Removed 1cm of length at the ankles and rebevelled the socket. Removed resin at the ankles to bring them in, and added epoxy at the calves to make them curvier. Feet: Sculpted little claws, which were cute, and then decided the feet needed to be 5mm longer. Cut across, drilled and pinned with brass rod for structural strength, gap filled with epoxy clay. I also modded her feet to have defined arches and balls back when I first got her. Alas, spitting into the ocean. I added S-hooks, but did so by drilling the ankle and inserting brass rod to form the axle for the hook. Arms: The proportions on her upper arms BOTHERED me! they were so SHORT! and I only just figured out that's what I hated about them last week! I added 5mm to the upper arms by cutting them in the middle and using SteelStik to make a structural repair (plumber's epoxy putty has a shorter open time but far greater structural strength than artist's epoxy clay). Sanded the heck out of the wrists to give them a more delicate taper. Hands: Beyond salvage. The hands were my least-favorite part of this sculpt. I tried to bulk them up to look less spidery but it was just too difficult... I've ordered a different pair of MSD hands which will have claws added, and then when everything is painted it'll all match. Thanks for reading this far! Here's a preview of what her golden eyes look like next to Krylon Fusion in Antique Blue.

((first progress post)) I think I'm mostly done adding epoxy clay (at least where it'll show; presumably the wrist sockets will require tweaks to fit the new hands), so now it's time for finish sanding. I start with 60 grit for shaping, then switch to a 120 grit sanding sponge. To check for scratches, pinholes, and inadequately feathered edges, I apply a wash of diluted acrylic paint. Once the paint has dried, I scrub the piece with a nylon scouring pad. Paint remains in the surface irregularities.

All sanded with 220 grit. I don't think I'll be going higher than 400 because I want there to be some tooth for the paint.

Any pitting in the epoxy clay that can't be sanded out is marked with a Sharpie and will be patched with Tamiya spot putty.

I did a test spray of the Krylon Fusion on the headcap and it's fantastic! Holy cow is it *poisonous* tho, I'm used to working with volatile chemicals but this was something else. Get OUT OF THE AREA between coats and leave it outside until it stops outgassing, not just until it's ready to handle.

This test piece is four light coats sprayed 1 minute apart, allowed to cure for 4 hours, and then wetsanded to remove the spray texture. It's pretty sturdy but I will wait several more days to see how it continues to cure before experimenting with matte sealants. ((progress update 2))

Haven't done much but sand-and-fill-and-sand-and-fill, but my 14mm beveller came in today so I can start deepening her elbow and ankle sockets. Added some epoxy clay to the insides of the eyewells so 14mm eyes will fit with no gap. I need a needle file to clean up the corners of her mouth... Monster feets! Nails on the right came out better than the left, still need to feather-sand everything.

Elbows progress. The early Bobobie elbows are I guess /technically/ double-jointed because the joint is a sphere with two slots, but I thought I could do better than that. You can see epoxy clay spliced in to make the sphere into a peanut: this isn't a structurally sound repair unless you pop it apart and drill/pin/glue-epoxy it back together.

View from the back. By keeping the joint heads spherical with no elbow-shaped detailing, there's some rotation as well as flexion, which I like.

Touching her face with one of her old hands. I hope the new ones come soon!

((progress update 4))

In good news, these parts are all ready for paint! It's really hard to do prepwork with no filler primer, hope I didn't miss any spots...

In less good news, her new hands arrived and they are... very smol ;u; I forgot that the new trend for slim minis means that everyone has TINY LITTLE HANDS.

They are, however, beautifully sculpted and a good 3D reference for what needs fixing and how. Bobobie palm is very short relative to fingers: I made a transverse cut behind the knuckles and added epoxy to lengthen More curved volume across the back of the hand: Not necessarily realistic, but looks a little cuter, plus it makes the transition into the cylinder of the wrist look less stylistically jarring. More defined joint angles: Some of these I did via cut-and-thermoform repositioning, mostly I'm aiming to fake it by building up and carving away at the weird smooth curves. The fingers are just TOO SKINNY: But obviously I'm not going to squish rice-grain-sized blobs of epoxy to the fingers, right? It's too fiddly, it doesn't want to stick. What's the solution? Brace for a truly hideous WIP image--

"AAAAAAGH WHAT IS THAT DARK GRAY MESS" it's JB Weld epoxy! It's like load-bearing, slow-curing modeller's putty! Slathering putty onto an armature and then carving it away to refine the shape is how anime figure artists make hands and detailed hair.  I was thinking about it from a polymer clay technique/perspective so I missed the obvious solution. Hand in the foreground has more layers than the hand in the background, every layer gets the shape a lil closer. ((progress post 5)) Parts set up on sticks so I can handle them without touching...

... and after 4 light coats!

Closeup of the head, lil' glossy because it's still drying. For the deeper areas like the joint slots, mouth, and the crannies of the ears, I'm going to have to decant some of the paint into a jar and apply it with a sacrificial brush.

((progress post 6)) I return from Depression! I finally finished sanding-and-spraying the Krylon Fusion coats, gave her a last polish with microfine to even out the texture, and have started blushing her. I'm using a mixture of Tamiya X-series acrylics applied via airbrush for basic contouring, then I'll go back in with pastel to add warm tones and details.

Fun discovery: in an attempt to cover some accidental overspray, I tried spraying the Fusion directly into the paint cup of the airbrush and using it to "erase" back to the base color. I'm NEVER using this product straight from the can again, it goes on so smooth and gorgeous from the airbrush! No orange peel or bubbles to sand away. I'm seriously tempted to get a can of pink and try blushing with it.

((progress post 7)) Doing a faceup over a spray-painted substrate is HARD I want to CRY. I talked about sanding out the spray texture to get an untextured surface, right? Welp, didn't/couldn't sand well enough in the corners of the mouth and the folds of the eyelids, so it's crusty-looking with pastels over it and now there's nothing I can do about it that doesn't involve stripping down to resin and starting again.

((final post)) Sueded and strung!

I didn't take pictures of the sueding process because I was using Barge Cement and it is messy and time-sensitive. I used masking tape to make templates of her joints, transferred to some thin gray lamb suede I found on eBay, and glued it fuzzy side out. The suede was thicker than real pliver, more like the thickness of silicone KIPS discs, but I think it worked out without too many fit issues. The trim store had 3.5mm elastic in a beautiful slate-blue color that I thought would look nicer in the joint slots, so she's strung throughout with thicker elastic. Some more poses to show off the functional mods~ Suwariko joints let her sit crosslegged, and more mobile wrists let her put her hands into the pose.

A more ball-and-socked shaped contact surface at her waist lets her slouch at a full range of angles instead of being locked into two.

With longer upper arms, she can reach the ground in this pose! You can also see how the modded waist joint lets her cock her hips.

She could always stand with locked knees. I think she needs some wire in her legs to let the suwariko joints hold their rotation against gravity, but I'll see how the elastic tension settles in first.

A parting shot out the snowy window. We've been having a hard time picking between a few names for her, but I think this settles it. Welcome back, Fubuki~

[bokunoheroanalysisforthefuture]

Happy New Year! I think my goal for this year for this blog will be to try to catch up to at least the beginning of the current arc, if not with the manga as a whole. I’ve got 365 days and a bit shy of 300 chapters (not counting those that will go up this year) so… we’ll see! Gotta Plus Ultra everything, right? 

(Of course, that doesn’t account for all the chapters I’m likely to break into multiple parts, like this one… alas, I will just simply see how far I can get.)

[No. 9 - Deku vs. Kacchan]

Starting this chapter off with another western-style comic book cover, with the two coming to blows in costume. Really contrasts when you think of DvK2, which happens out of costume but yet someone comes off as more intense/important to both of them… I wonder what DvK3 will look like?

The chapter itself starts with future Izuku narrating a bit of backstory - that he and Katsuki had grown up in the same neighborhood, so they were childhood friends. He considered Katsuki the fearless type who could do anything, thus becoming the leader of their small gang of friends, and that at the time he wasn’t ‘bad’ or ‘good, just confident, which Izuku admired. However, with Katsuki’s quirk came his slide towards ‘bad’, and the page (and flashback) ends with Izuku echoing the words from the very start of the manga - people are not born equal, a lesson he learned at four.

(As an aside, I really like how the flashback segments are sprinkled through the chapter and slowly add onto the context behind their relationship instead of being shown all at once. It’s better pacing and doesn’t interrupt the flow of the present fight.)

We transition back to the present, with the same moment of Katsuki claiming that Izuku’s defiance even while scared pisses him off as we ended off with in the last chapter. Also, Ochako right behind Katsuki, that was a lost opportunity to attack, even if it wouldn’t have worked. I suppose it was part of Izuku’s plan, but still…

Tenya tries to get Katsuki to give him an update, but Katsuki just tells him to shut up and keep watch while Katsuki wrecks ‘someone’ (cough Izuku). Tenya tries to warn Katsuki to not let emotions get the better of him, only to be frustrated when Katsuki cuts the transceiver, calling him a scoundrel. 

Honestly, this is really fucking hilarious considering a few dozen chapters from now is basically:

Tensei: is injured

Tenya: (✿◉‿◉)🔪

Moving on, we switch back to the viewing room, with Kirishima asking about the lack of sound from the cameras. All Might notes they’re communicating with micro-transceivers given to them along with the blueprints and capture tape - the latter of which is used to provide proof of ‘capture’ when tied around the opponent. Kirishima then goes on to ask/clarify that the heroes only have fifteen minutes but no idea where the weapon is located, which All Might confirms. Mina (finally looking as she should) notes that the heroes are at a disadvantage, and All Might tells them it’s like Aizawa said, and leads them through the school motto - Plus Ultra!

Honest to god, what support company willingly made this? Why did they not just dumpster it as an affront to God and make something normal??

Anyways, Aoyama is the one to first notice whatever Katsuki is doing, and All Might turns back to the monitors to watch as well. And so we switch back to inside the building, with Katsuki blasting himself at Izuku. Izuku tells Ochako to run ahead while blocking an explosion-boosted kick to the head. Ochako does so despite her obvious worry for Izuku, and Katsuki ignores her entirely, telling Izuku to worry about himself. Katsuki then gets a moment of shock when Izuku turns out to have used the capture tape to catch Katsuki’s leg before he could pull it away.

Notebook no. 10… we have no idea when he started them, but based on the average time of a notebook being a few months shy of a year, this would likely have been either his last year of elementary or first year of middle school (about age 11/12), so… Izuku has known Eraserhead for quite a while - perhaps in a desperate search for heroes who fought ‘quirkless’ or ‘almost quirkless’? Sadly, I can't make out the text on the page, though I know there’s translations out there that I just have no idea how to locate at the moment… alas.

But yeah, Izuku predicts Katsuki’s next move, and takes advantage of that knowledge to dodge under the next blast without injury. The rest of the class is impressed with Izuku’s ability to go toe-to-toe against the entrance exam’s top scorer without his quirk, while Katsuki keeps getting shocked at Izuku’s moves. 

All Might notes that Izuku has always excelled at making split-second decisions, and also his thorough memorization of all the hero-related things he’s been writing in his notebooks - with a short flashback to All Might reading through the notebook while Izuku had been unconscious after being attacked by the Sludge Villain!

Izuku is frustrated, thinking that he had Katsuki, but that one rope wouldn’t be enough to hold him. He thinks about how Toshinori told him he could be a hero, and that with all that support behind him, it was time to show what he was made of. 

...and then he immediately bolts around a corner, with Katsuki snapping at Izuku to get back, and then going on to shout about how it ‘must have been fun tricking Katsuki all this time’ and ‘hiding that flashy quirk of his’. Izuku’s expression at that is, according to the discord (because I can’t quite tell myself) frustration, but it might also be a bit of sadness as well? 

Katsuki finishes his complaints / telling with more explosions and shouting how Izuku should ‘bring it on’ and that he’d still crush him. With the class, Kaminari notes how angry Katsuki is and that it’s scary. All Might himself…

Wow. Why do people in this fandom think Izuku is way too nice and forgiving of Katsuki when we get moments like this?

Fanon Izuku 1: Kacchan has done nothing wrong ever in his entire life

Fanon Izuku 2: Bakugou is a horrible human being who should never have been allowed to be a hero

Canon Izuku: Kacchan is actually a bitch, but damn do I admire his confidence and skill

Also, we see you there Nerd Might:

We come back to Izuku crouched down by a corner somewhere, panting a bit as he analyses the situation. He notes how Katsuki came right for him and ignored Ochako, and that the smart play for the villain team would have been for Tenya to be the vanguard because of his superior mobility and speed. Since he bets Tenya also knows that, this is probably Katsuki rampaging on his own, so there’s no teamwork happening. We then get a lovely mental image while Izku notes that if both of them had come at the hero team from the start, it would have been really hard to win. He also notes that sticking with Ochako would have likely led to that two on two situation, with him and Ochako wasting too much time on Katsuki, but with them split up, they have a stronger chance since she can go after the weapon and capture Tenya. If he can just follow after her, it’ll be a two on one fight against him, meaning they’ll win! 

...so long as Izuku can win against Katsuki. He wipes at the small amount of blood trickling from his nose, telling himself he’ll be fine so long as he watches out for Katsuki’s palms. He thinks back on the past, where he’d told Katsuki he wasn’t trying to compete with him, and says in the present that he takes it all back. 

Since the next couple of pages are the flashback portions on Katsuki’s end, I am gonna cut it off here, because those deserve their own post.

Also, on request from the discord:

[ystk-archive]

I know it's a hallmark of his music, but have there been any moments you've thought ystk's music to be *too* overly constructed, thought-out, detailed, etc? I gave Mondai Girl a re-listen, my opinion on it hasn't changed (kyary's voice is annoying, pre-chorus is amazing, chorus itself not so much). I do wish he'd show some restraint arrangement wise, kill his darlings more often. Hard when your basal instinct is to add.

My short answer is “yes and no” lmao. I generally agree with what you’ve said about Mondai -- I forgot how much I loved the pre-chorus on this -- but my umbrage with the actual chorus has nothing to do with the arrangement being "busy" and everything to do with the vocal melody just sounding extremely corny/trite to my ears (if I was some kind of music nerd I could probably identify whatever it is about the sequence that gives it that kind of vibe to me, but alas, I speak in 感じ only 😔) which is a composition issue.

I find it kind of challenging to identify either composition or arrangement as a “problem” in his work because they kind of go hand-in-hand though. For example, I think my issue with Polygon Wave (yeah, yeah, I know) is a bit of both. You've got this, like, fantastic French house-esque groove going, it's simple but completely effective, the melody is very tempered and moody and a little mysterious, there's small flourishes and details and enough punch that it's not too mellow...and then everything suddenly nosedives into that shrill synth whine, it turns into this chaotic jumble of vocal modulations and drama. Like I enjoy this section separately as its own thing, it sounds like a manifestation of how I feel about the rest of the song (if that makes any sense), but I think it's completely out of place in context. It’s an emotional outburst of music irrespective of the setting -- it seems to be trying to hearken to Polyrhythm’s polyloop bridge but that track does something “right” in the lead-up to it that Polygon just doesn’t for me. I’m gonna cut him a lot of slack for it though because when the radio version debuted I kept wondering where else he could possibly take it and my only idea was "whatever just do a crazy synth solo I guess!" and lo and behold, that’s what he thought too apparently. I also can’t imagine he’s done tooling with it, it’s probably the fact that it has to be a pop track that holds it back, it should be like a 7+ minute long house piece... The remix was sort of trying but there are also things about how it alters the vibe that I don't care for (do absolutely love the main motif getting highlighted and expanded on from 1:32~1:50 with that NIGHT FLIGHT sort of synth though, it adds this nice introspective element).

Since I don’t think this answer is long enough I’m also gonna add that one of the reasons I didn't like his material between 2016-2020ish was he was conscientiously trying to temper his arrangements. I can't remember which interview it was I skimmed but he said he would literally try to see what he could take out of a song to render the most base core skeleton. Which since we've all established that a large part of his musical appeal is in his ability to write and perform complex ~impressive melodies and layered synth soundscapes, this obviously goes against all sense, and as of this year it seems he's reneged on that approach... But generally speaking I don't listen to something by him and think "this would be better if it was less busy.” I think where he is lacking artistically is in an absence of subtlety but you can’t render subtlety through just removing ideas and tempering creativity in production. He seems to enjoy making music that's loud, not only in how he mixes and masters it, but in the emphasis or way he literally plays the piano/keyboard. I don't know if I'm still making sense at this point lmao but that's where I see a heavy-handedness that can detract from what he creates, so I guess a different aspect of arrangement rather than in there being a glut of details.

But that’s just all my opinions that I’ve said while not being a piano player or a musician myself!

[matronoftheblackrose]

Excuse you? Excuse you??! (Re: Rell and Viego)

To say the Matron was a patient woman would be like stating the sky was blue, or water at room temperature was wet, or that the Matron of the Black Rose shadowy organization who has lived for centuries had a semblance of an idea for patience. To truly ‘surprise’ the Matron one could theorize it would be as difficult as to change the colour of the sky to the colour splurr, or converting water to plasma.

In a dark private room, at a desk, illuminated by the violet magical spiderweb thrumming with panic, sat the Matron of the Black Rose with a bottle of vintage Noxian wine and no glass.

“Alright, darling... Let us try this one more time...”

“Lukas was killed-”

“Let us try this one more time, from the beginning, so you can try in your mewling state to tell me why I should care about any of this,” LeBlanc interrupted. She tipped the mouth of the wine bottle to her lips and took a mouthful of the delicious, soothing crimson. The panicked thrum of her network underneath the desk cast a colourful array of neon reds and pinks into the void. “The Black Rose academy has lost its prized student, who discovered the truth, who knows who some of us are and is currently hunting down all those who wronged her, yes? Including the mentor Lukas who has been found dead? And, correct me if I am mistaken, and I rarely am, Rell is the product the Null project- the project that I said required more drastic measures of mind control, can now control the shards of Noxian steel that soldiers have died in battle to have the honor of looking upon such craftsmanship, and is killing the remnants of the Black Rose Null Academy?”

“...Yes, Matron...”

“Do you realize- do you realize how stupid this is? You must understand because you are not here, in person. You must understand because I have not summoned you here so I can weigh you down in a bathtub of milk and honey and let the maggots eat you.”

“Matron, please-”

“Please. What.” LeBlanc took another swig of her wine. Her web thrummed brighter and ever more panicked. “Please what? Mercy? You are not dead, are you. An explanation? I have heard your explanation and it is lacking. Another chance? Why do you think you are not dead?”

“...Matron? You- Are you serious?”

“And now you doubt me! Me!” LeBlanc let out a single giggle, like a nail swiftly dragged across metal. “Darling, what do you think is going to happen? This Rell is going to kill the rest of you idiots, then she will try to find the rest of us which she will not be able to do. She cannot because, as a precaution, I do not allow other Black Rose members to disclose other sectors locations else your hearts rupture as stated in our contract, and to quickly add it will be a memory you will quickly forget soon after we finish our discussion. And if she somehow does, if she somehow manages to discover where I am, bursts into my chamber and yells for my head, what shall she magnetize? My staff? My gold staff? My gold circlet? Perhaps she shall strip me of my silken dress but she is too young for me, and gods know what those writers and artists will conceive of. It is as though I approved of a project that had a hyper specialization in eliminating a specific target- Oh wait!”

The Matron took another long drink of wine, some of the placating crimson splashed down and marred her desk.

“So the one thing we wanted her to destroy, the Shadow Island wraiths and Mordekaiser, she is fully capable of doing so? And if Mordekaiser ever decides to march on Noxus, your imbecilic daughter will protect the people. So, why should I stop her? She will do her job no matter what. So, dearest Headmistress of the Black Rose Academy, who I shalt be considering to transfer to the sewage division, why. Should. I . Care.”

“I- Matron, my Matron, I-”

“I-I-I- I have not ripped your tongue out nor has the cat stolen it. Speak in full sentences. What do you wish, to redeem your mistake? Do so! If you are killed, then fine, we are in the same position. What is it you are looking from me, support? This is your sewage, this is your spawn, you will-”

The violet web shook as violently as it could, nearly striking the back of LeBlanc’s chair. With a sharp exhale, the Matron smiled and said, “I apologize, there is another call I must take.”

LeBlanc snapped her fingers, severing the thread with the ex-Headmistress of her school. What a terribly stupid idea that somehow still spawned the exact pawn they needed. Oh no people will discover the Black Rose runs academies that gives them superpowers how terrible. Oh it takes childrens’ souls then why does Rell not give those abilities up? Oh noooo.

Oh well, this one could not be any more stupid.

“Yes, darling- the Matron is here and available-”

“Greetings, Imposter.”

LeBlanc nearly spat her wine out. She glanced at her bottle, saw its year, and swallowed the contents to the best of her ability. With a gasp and a wheeze- That voice.

“Viego?”

“So you do remember me...” A soft chuckle that echoed and reverberated into itself a thousand sultry times. “I thought it to be fair to let you know that I shalt be coming for my Isolde...”

“By every dead god, a thousand years dumped in the ocean has not diluted your thirst,” LeBlanc snapped. “Have you heard the phrase ‘she is just not that into you’?”

“A thousand years ago perhaps we could have exchanged the witty quips, but alas- this is not an exchange between equals. I simply thought to give you one last chance. I am coming, you will die, and you will fulfill your side of the bargain. See you soon, Emilia.”

The line went dead, as the subordinate’s soul was torn asunder.

In the dead, dark room, with the light barely able to illuminate LeBlanc’s heels, the Matron laughed. She tapped the only green thread in her entire violet web, followed by a violet thread.

“Oh Headmistress, are you still there?” LeBlanc asked as she beckoned at the air. Another bottle of wine, a fine bottle of rosé this time, with two crystal glasses.

“Yes. Matron, something has gone terribly wrong. The Black Rose Academy has fallen, and I-”

“I know all of this, of course I do.”

“You...do? How?”

“Darling, you are asking how I, the Matron, would know?” LeBlanc uncorked the bottle and poured the wine into their glasses. They needed a bit of time to breathe, much like her subordinate.

“My apologies, Matron.”

“I have given it thorough, deep thought, and I have decided to not have the nape of your neck meat hooked so you could watch as you were slowly lowered into a pit of ravenous beasts that take the form of your daughter who would disembowel you.”

“I- Thank you, Matron.”

“No, rather, do figure out where your Rell is ‘about’. And let me know if there are any other students of your school that are still around. I need the appropriate bait.”

“Bait, Matron?”

“Oh yes. Bait. Rell still has her purpose. I assume you have no objections... Baroness?”

“Pardon, Matron?”

“How does the title of Baroness sound to you, rather than Headmistress? Along with all of the perks of nobility, along with all of the money, the wealth- the men, far greater than that meatstack of a husband you have.”

“What do you need me to do?”

Matron of the Black Rose Emilia LeBlanc looked at the green eyes approaching her from the darkness. A green, ephemeral hand reached out and picked up the glass of rosé. LeBlanc gave the Grand General a smirk.

“Rell just needs to fulfill her purpose...”

[whatyouwantedmetosee]

Thoughts on some Jack X Joey??

Boy howdy do I have a lot of thoughts!! (I actually love this ship, whoops.)

Disclaimer: a lot of my thoughts are from before the Illusion of Living, but now that I know the IOL stuff, I can’t not factor that in to my thoughts. So, various slight spoilers for the Illusion of Living under the cut!

Secondary Disclaimer: My information about the books is via other people, so I may have slight information wrong. This is a lot of headcanons anyway so please excuse any inaccuracies!

(It’s also honestly a lot of rambling character analysis rather than ship thoughts, so I guess if you want to hear my TED Talk on Jack Fain’s personality that’s in here too.)

SO! Obviously this one isn’t exactly like... an Obvious Pairing. But it’s one I think could, theoretically, be pretty nice.

First off: So like, I’m honestly just, gobsmacked, the amount of fuel for my sorta niche ship that showed up in the Illusion of Living? Joey Drew and Jack Fain have coffee and chat, that’s cUTE??? (Also apparently the audiobook puts weird emphasis on Joey enjoying their... meetings, which IDK, it’s probably intended as a like “haha yeah it’s a work meeting even tho we’re actually just having coffee for most of it” but tOO BAD I MADE IT QUEER NOW.

Anyway, on to actual thoughts, which I have split into mini chapters because I am physically incapable of being succinct:

Part One: The Accidental TED Talk About Jack Fain (Or At Least How I View Him)

A lot of my thoughts on this ship are affected by how I view Jack as a character, I think? I see him as someone who’s soft, and nice, yeah, and overall very chill, but I don’t really see him as a pushover, really? I feel like, Jack’s a character who can tell what people want, and then sorta... gently steer them in a direction, rather than just going with what they want.

So like, with Sammy - Sammy is real direct and blunt and rude, and somehow Jack manages to work with him well. This is actually sorta how I view that one IOL scene where Jack interrupts Joey and Sammy’s Gay Reminiscing:tm: - he sees Sammy getting off track and distracted, and decides to step in to keep things back on topic.

I feel like this probably is also how they’re able to work together so well, because Jack can tell when he needs to step in to keep Sammy on track, while also understanding how Sammy wants him to act and doing what Sammy wants him to do. (And as a side note, I honestly feel like Sammy probably knows this and appreciates it? Helps keep things running smoothly. Probably why he isn’t as much of an ass to Jack as he can be to other people.)

Basically, I see him as having a pretty good skill at like, working out people’s systems, working out how to please them, while also coming to compromises that help him also get his point across.

I also feel like, I’m not sure how much of Jack’s Big Attention Seeking Energy is him, so much as him filling a role to do what needs to be done? I don’t think he necessarily hates it, but like... Working with Sammy, someone has to be doing that role. He knows how to work with people, work an audience, get the attention the duo needs to be successful the way Sammy can’t. (Sammy outright doesn’t want attention, but alas, that doesn’t really pay the bills.)

But then, when you hear about Jack at JDS, he tends to get away from everything and be more chill - and I read that as more like, now that he doesn’t need to draw attention for his job, he’s able to settle down a little in that regard. Writing is a lot different from pleasing a crowd, so he doesn’t need to maintain that persona, and can slip into more comfortable habits, get some more peace as he works on writing.

(Also, wrt the one audiolog he has about not being too bothered about that one award being in Joey’s name - I feel like, if he doesn’t actually want the attention so much, I could see him... like, legitimately just not minding it that much, actually, rather than being passive aggressive about it or anything.)

Anyway!!! Those are my thoughts on Jack, so now we can move onto...

Section B: Jack/Joey? On This Blog??? It’s More Likely Than You Think 

So then, with regards to like... shipping with Joey. Note that we’re now sliding into even more headcanon-y territory.

I feel like at the very beginning, Joey probably misreads Jack a lot. He’s still kinda expecting that showy, charismatic, crowd-pleasing persona, the like... what he reads as wanting attention. (Which, true, Jack was seeking that out - because the job required it, not because he, specifically, wanted it.)

So, what he gets is a bit more of a surprise - a bit more chill, calmer. But, he still has that ability to work with people, even though he’s not using it on a crowd.

From the sounds of things in IOL, it seems like, the meeting stuff between Joey and the Music Dept. Boys goes pretty smoothly... but like, I get the impression that later on in the studio’s timeline, things go slightly less well between Sammy and Joey. (Stares at the conspicuous lack of Jack Fain in DCTL. Hm.)

But yeah, I like to imagine, Jack in meetings with Joey and Sammy, helping like... smooth things over more when changes need to be made or the music isn’t working out quite how Joey wants it to. Jack knows enough about Sammy to know how to appeal to his side of things, while also compromising enough with Joey’s side of things, incorporating the changes Joey wants but suggesting ways it could work better, helping tone down Joey’s helpful suggestions that wouldn’t work as well as he thinks they would.

I’m a big fan of the concept of like... Joey originally has a big crush on Sammy, he’s so mysterious, what’s going on in his head, etc. - but then, a lot more slowly, he gets to know Jack better, spends more time with him, slowly works out how Jack actually works. Learns to appreciate that more subdued charisma he has, the way he can tell how people work and work with it.

And then, it’s just nice to imagine a nicer more chill Joey ship. Have some nice meetings, get coffee together, casually make out in Joey’s office. That’s some good content.

(It also works nicely because I feel like... IDK, I don’t think Jack would just put up with Joey’s Being Joey, I don’t think he’s that much of a pushover. So like, IDK, in this scenario Joey learns to be a bit less of a jerk, maybe things don’t go so bad. Or, I mean. Stares some more at the conspicuous lack of Jack Fain in DCTL. Hmmmmm.) 

...

Also like, this is also good opportunity for a Joey/Sammy/Jack OT3, give Joey the best of both worlds. Jack cares a lot about Sammy, Joey is infatuated with Sammy and slowly grows to understand Jack, Jack helps Sammy and Joey clash slightly less and work together better, etc. It’s a different ship, but also good.

Act III: Okay But What If I Added Some Angst? Eh? Any Takers???

So, first up, consider: this very good post of Jack Fain thoughts by @inkyvendingmachine. Now hear me out:

Jack Fain, who (through whatever nonsense) ended up with his office nice and tucked away in the sewers where he has some peace and quiet. Due to Some Reason, be it poor memory on Joey’s part or unclear instruction when he demanded that the Ink Demon be locked up...

The Ink Demon gets locked away in the Infirmary... but, unbeknownst to Joey, Jack is still in there. Things don’t go well. Joey realises, and...

Well.

Add in some previous Jack/Joey shipping, and Joey suddenly realising what he’s caused, unintentionally or no. Lead that into either Joey losing it and turning to his weird ink nonsense, or Joey going further than he meant in attempt to somehow reverse what he did.

Throw in some additional: Jack is no longer there to help balance out Joey’s Joeyness. He’s also no longer there to help out with Sammy and Joey interactions - a Sammy who can tell something’s happened with Jack, but Joey sure isn’t going to just tell him what happened, and that certainly isn’t helping things here.

...

maybe i put something like that in my requirement au. just a little. its fine. i lov to cause myself pain

[jawritter]

I Kinda Like The Disease....

WattPad Request: If you could do a demon dean smut something kinky, and for the girl use the name Krystal. Or KK please.

Word Count: 1689

Warnings: Smut!, Unproteced Sex, Public Sex, Choking, Hair Pulling, Demon Dean (Yes he has his own warning.) Language, This is pretty much porn with a vague plot lol.

A/N: As always all mistakes are mine, and feedback is appreciated! If you want to be added to my tag list let me know! Hope you guys enjoy this one!!

Pairing: Demon!Dean x OFC Krystal (KK)

Want More? Check out my masterlist?

******MASTERLIST******

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Krystal and Sam had been tracking down the Demon version of Dean for months now, neither of them had gotten any closer to finding him. Dean didn’t want to be found, and Demon or human, if Dean didn’t want to be found, finding him was almost impossible. All those years of hunting, and hiding from shit that wanted to kill you had evidently paid off for him, add a supernatural ability to that, and what you have is a lost cause. 

Krystal couldn’t give up though, if they had a chance of finding and curing Dean, then that’s what she’d do, even if it killed her. 

Her search had taken her to Downtown New Orleans, Louisiana, following a lead by Garth. A man had been murdered at a gas station just outside of New Orleans by a man on the security camera fitting Dean’s description. The only problem was that the same story had been said to have happened in a town just outside of Queens, New York.. 

So that means she and Sam had to split up, and while he didn't like the idea of leaving her alone to look for his brother, she welcomed the silence. 

Sam had become increasingly annoying. Constantly trying to convince her, or himself she thought more than her, that this would all work out and  be alright, that they’d find Dean and together cure him. Then work to get that damn mark off of his arm that started all of this in the first place. 

She didn’t want to hear more “It’s all gonna work out” pep talks though, She wanted results. The rest was just words, and words didn’t mean shit. You could talk all damn day long, but until he was found and he was her Dean again they meant nothing to her.

Krystal had chosen to go to New Orleans because there was word that Crowley had also been seen there, and she was almost willing to bet that where Crowley was, Dean would be to. Sam chose New York because he said it was more “Dean’s Style of a killing.” She disagreed though. They seemed to be doing that a lot lately.

Upon arriving in New Orleans she was almost sure she had the right place. It was Mardi Gras, and this place was currently a Demon’s playground. Insecure little bitches running around nude or almost nude. Adultery, Fornication, Murder, Glutteny, all of your big time players in the deadly sin game were on full display, and Krystal knew that any Demone worth his salt would be here, and wouldn’t pass this up. 

Alas so far besides all that she’d had no luck. So she made her way through the crowded streets in search of her way back to her hotel room. People were packed shoulder to shoulder. Drinking, dancing, waiting on the parade floats to make their way through, It was loud, and disorienting. 

Just as she found her way back onto Canal street. A hand reached out from behind a dark alleyway and grabbed her, pulling her with inhuman strength towards the dark alley. 

“Hello sweetheart.”

Turning her around, and slamming her into the hard brink wall of the building she was between; she came face to face with Dean’s face and the haunting black eyes of a demon. 

He was the same, but so different. His eyes snapped back to the green she loved so much, the one that haunted her dreams at night since he’d left her, the ones she’d wanted to see more than anything. Right now they were right there in front of her, the same, but oh so different. 

He was thinner, his hair was combed over in a way that Dean would have never worn if he were himself. He cast this creepy feeling with him that made her stomach curl, and even though he wore Dean’s signature smirk, it wasn’t her Dean that was standing here before her. Looking at her like she was something to eat.

“I told you and Sammy to stop trailing me, but no, you just had to keep right on at it. Well you found me, now what? Not what you expected?” He said with a mincing chuckle, and for just a moment her blood ran cold.

She swallowed the lump in her throat, and he didn’t miss her apprehension. Tilting his head to the side he looked at her quizzically.

“Aww what's wrong baby girl? Don’t you miss me?” He didn’t give her time to answer before he had his hand wrapped in her hair. Pulling her head to the side, and exposing her neck to him. HIs teeth sinking into her pulse points, drawing  a moan out of her that even she didn’t expect. 

It had been SSSOO long since they were together, and she missed the intimacy that he’d give her if he were her Dean.

Even though he wasn’t her Dean his mouth felt the same against her sink, his hot breath fanning over hers in the night air, creating little bumps to erupt everywhere in his wake.

Arousal polled in her underwear, making her shift her legs uncomfortable. 

“You know what? I think I missed that tight little pussy more than I realized. You want me baby, want me to fuck you right here in the alley. In front of all these people that could catch us? Hmm?

She couldn’t answer, because if she was being honest. She did want him to take her right there, just to feel him inside of her, his skin on her skin, after she thought that it would never happen again. She’d give anything to have him balls deep inside of her right now. 

“KK don’t lie to yourself. You know you missed my dick… It’s right here. All you got to do is tell me you want it, and if you can keep that pretty little mouth shut while I fuck you, you can have it.”

And boy did she, she just for some reason couldn’t make her mouth form words right now.

“You know what I’m gonna take your silence as a yes” He said, snapping reaching down and pulling his belt loose, freeing his already hard cock from his boxers and jeans, forcing her hand to touch him, and she couldn’t stop the moan that fell from her lips at the feel of him in her hand again. Hardening even more under her touch.

“Too close sweetheart. That shits got to go.” 

Pulling the first blade out from nowhere he ripped her jeans right at the crotch, she can’t figure out how he didn’t slice her, but the tip of it just grazed against her throbbing clit as it slipped through her layers. Making them fall open in just the right places. 

The cold night air hitting her soaking folds as the parade music started up. Cajun music floating through the air, along with the sound of screaming drunk people.

Dean looked at the direction of the parade as the first float passed. The blade tucked away again. He put his long finger to his lips, shushing her, letting his eyes flash black for moment to reminder her exactly who she was dealing with, and that it would do her well to keep her fucking mouth shut. 

Without warning he sipped his hand around her throat and squeezed it just enough to make breathing a struggle. Running his other hand over her folds, testing to see if she could take him. When he was satisfied that she would need any prep he smirked at her. Making even more silk slip down her already soaked thighs. 

“Is all that for me KK? Miss me that much baby?” He asked her, his deep rumble almost drowned out by the music and people. “Well let’s not make you wait another minute then.”

Without that he slapped her hand away from his leaking cock and spread her legs with his thick thighs. Slamming his full length into her before she could even get her legs wrapped around him properly. Doing her best to hold onto his shoulders and bite back the screams she wanted to let escape her as he pounded into her cunt at a brutal pace.

Stretching her in a way that she’d missed so much. Hitting the spot deep down inside of her with each hard thrust that only he could hit. One hand still squeezing her throat leaving bruises and marks as he sucked at sensitive skin behind her ear adding to the sensation even more. The other hand holding up her leg to help her balance.

“So fucking tight baby?” He grunted in her ear as his hips started to falter and her world started to spin in combination of her own release and the lack of oxygen. 

“Cum for me Krystal. Now '' He growled as he spilled himself into her, and she did, her walls milking his thick length for all it would give her, his lips meeting hers. Swallowing down her moans and cries as she exploded around him.

When they both came down from their high he let go of her throat and dropped her hard to the ground, tucking himself away before kneeling down next to her. Jerking her panting form up by her hair. Making her look into his black eyes. 

“Now you and Sammy keep to your own damn business, and leave me be…” His lips met hers again in a bruising kiss. “I’ll be seeing you soon, and you better stay ready Krystal, because you never know where I’m going to show up.”

Before she could respond he disappeared. Leaving her laying alone in the dark alley, used and his cum still running down her thighs, leaking out of her. All she had left of him. 

Even though she failed to get him this time. At least she had him one more time before he left again, and couldn't help the anticipation of his return that he’d promised. 

If she had to admit it, she liked the disease maybe a little too….

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Tag List:

@deanwanddamons​​ @imabitch4jensen​​ @rvgrsbrns​​ @bi-danvers0​​ @onethirstyunicorn​​ @i-love-superhero​​ @akshi8278​ @alanegaming​

[shadowsof-thenight]

Starry skies

Summary: Contemplating the rest of your life is daunting, especially if you have little control over it. And the person assigned to keep you safe only adds complications.

Ship: Bucky Barnes x Reader Warnings: Angst and melancholy (and a tiny bit of fluff) Words: 1811 

***

A/N: I was working on my series, when a few ideas for one-shots just popped in my head. This was one of them and I hope you like it! The amazing @gnomewithalaptop​ was my wonderful beta for this (like she if for pretty much everything I write) Thank you for all your hard work and kind words! I truly appreciate you.

***

Masterlist      

***

Starry skies

You couldn’t remember a time where you had seen the stars, not like this anyway. In the city where you grew up, there was too much pollution from the surrounding lights. So you had never realised how mesmerising they could be, how magnificent their light really was. You had never seen them fall either. And right now, you were really wishing for a shooting star, one you could wish upon and change your fate. 

Which was why looking up was your first instinct upon exiting the cabin. The sight instantly left you breathless, as it had done so many times before in the past two months. The sheer magnitude of the galaxy was enough to render you speechless time and time again.

Quietly you sat down on the swing-set in the back of the small garden—the high fences giving you a sense of safety that you hadn’t experienced much before you’d come here either. There was still plenty of tension left in your shoulders, back, and neck, but it was significantly less and you rejoiced in the notion. You hadn’t known what it was like to relax, to not look over your shoulder 24/7. Of course, you still looked—though not as much, not with your personal bodyguard, who was currently pretending not to keep an eye on you from the living room window.  You appreciated his attempt to give you some peace and quiet. He knew you needed it, needed time to gather your thoughts and face your emotions. There were so many of them, all swirling around inside of you, and they’d shaken you to the core—because you suddenly wished things were entirely different. Mostly, you wished you had been brave sooner.  

As if your feet had a life of their own, they began to move as soon as you sat down, causing the swing to gently sway back and forth. Holding on tightly to the ropes that held the swing up, you sighed deeply. A cool breeze washed over you, expelling the heat of the day. The heat had been a new experience for you; the sensation of heat clinging to your skin, unwilling to leave, wasn’t one you’d ever get used too. You wondered if you even needed too, after tonight.


The backdoor creaked and soft footsteps followed the sound, slowly inching closer, and you smiled. Another new experience; the alleviation of stress upon the sound of approaching footsteps. A feeling you could definitely get used too. A feeling you wished you could get used too, but it wasn’t in the cards for you.

Soon you could feel his presence behind your seated frame, a source of heat standing close, and you tilted back towards the heat—allowing yourself to lean against him. Another sigh left you as his hands found your shoulders, gently trailing down your arms, and you cherished the feeling. He was so strong, unforgiving in a fight, but with you, he showed a much gentler side. He showed you a kindness and respect that you’d never known.

You smiled as it dawned on you that you’d only known him for two months now. It was funny how close you could get to people in such a short amount of time if the circumstances were right. Or perhaps he was special. In fact, you were certain he was special. He had managed to get so incredibly close, to become tethered to your heart, seemingly out of nowhere and with little effort made. It was crazy really. Though it was certainly the kind of crazy you enjoyed. The kind of crazy you would miss, as you would miss him. After tonight.

That was all you had, one more night. And you weren’t certain what would be wise. Should you tell him how you felt? Or was it better to keep it buried? Did you want to leave never knowing, or with a broken heart? There was nothing you could do now, to change the circumstances of your life, nothing you could do to keep him close. And your fate was out of his hands as well. No matter what happened next, by morning light you’d leave this cabin behind. And him with it. 


In the morning a new agent would be assigned and you’d travel onwards, while he’d go back to the city. Where he’d probably forget about you. He’d eventually find someone special, who wouldn’t need protection, who wouldn’t need to leave. You wondered if you could live with that. You had no choice. The question became, would you be able to live with the idea that he’d never know that he was your someone special? 

“Hey Buck,” you whispered as you felt him lean into your touch.

“I knew you’d end up here tonight.” His deep voice was a little gravelly from lack of use—you’d spent most of the day in silence. Tense silence.

You stood up from the swing, turning quickly to face him—your fingers still lightly grasping the robe. His fingers enclosed yours, and for a moment, your eyes were drawn to the touch. Again, so gentle and caring.

“Do you think it’ll be this warm where I’m going?” you asked softly, your eyes focusing on his blue ones. “Or that I’ll be able to see the stars like I can here?”

You knew he could not answer you. He didn’t know. He wasn’t supposed to know—that was the whole deal. The fewer people knew where you were, the better off you were. Safer. Though right now, you’d trade in that safety to stay with Bucky.

“I don’t know.” He shrugged, his gaze leaving you and glancing up to the sky instead. Had you seen that same melancholy you felt? Or were your eyes deceiving you?

“I know, I’m just…wondering I guess,” you said with a sigh and looked up as well.

“I hope it’ll be beautiful,” he whispered. He added a few more mumbled words that you couldn’t quite make out. He had a habit of doing that—speaking so softly that you couldn’t hear him. And not once had he repeated himself, claiming instead that he was simply talking to himself. It always spiked your curiosity, but you’d accepted by now that you wouldn’t figure it out. Perhaps if you’d had the chance, you would’ve been able to crack his hard exterior—but that wouldn’t be happening.

“Me too,” you sighed, stepping closer to him and taking your chance. Your final chance.

“I also wish you could come with me,” you added in a whisper, your hand gently placed on his chest and your eyes trained on his face. He usually managed to control his features, so you knew you had to look closely to see a response. He had a good poker face, but you had managed to uncover a few tells, and you hoped those would help you unravel it.

“Me too,” he said with a sharp intake of breath. His eyes bored into you and your heart skipped a beat.

What followed was silence where he seemed to be debating his next course of action and you patiently waited for him to make a choice. Would he give in? Or remain the professional? The answer came much sooner than you expected when he suddenly bent his head and crashed his lips into your own, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist.

A content sigh left your mouth as you leaned into him, cherishing any moment you could get with him and quietly wishing that the night could last forever. Alas, it was nearly midnight now and like a twisted Cinderella, you would have to leave in five hours’ time.

Your hands twisted into his shirt as you tried to get as close as possible. In the back of your mind, you were aware of the swing repeatedly bumping into your leg, but you paid it little mind when his tongue asked for entrance. You moaned into the kiss, and his hands squeezed your waist a little tighter in response to the sound before they trailed down, tapping your thighs and silently asking you to jump up. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you jumped, and he carried you inside—seemingly as eager to treasure these moments as you were.


If only you have taken a chance sooner. For five hours didn’t seem enough. Nothing would ever be enough. But you pushed those thoughts out for the time being, and instead relished the feeling of his skin against your own.

All too soon, sunlight made its presence known, pushing through the thin curtains, and you quietly slid from the bed—careful not to wake Bucky. Saying goodbye was not something you’d envisioned doing. Not now. Emotions were bubbling too close to the surface. 
So you left, like a thief in the night. Quietly, without a word, leaving destruction in your wake.

Once you were outside, you glanced back at the cabin one more time, a lump quickly forming in your throat. After attempting—and failing—to clear your throat, you took a deep breath and walked towards the awaiting car. Leaning against it was Natasha, a solemn smile on her face—a knowing look, one filled with sympathy. It didn’t surprise you. Her ability to acquire knowledge was beyond your comprehension. It certainly wouldn't be the first time she’d seen right through you.

Without a word, she took the duffel bag from your hands and placed it gently in the trunk of her car. You thanked her softly, before walking the passenger side. There, you allowed yourself one more peek at the cabin, and as you did, a single tear slipped from your eye. You brushed it away quickly and got into the vehicle.

As soon as you were strapped in, Natasha drove off—distancing you from the cabin and the beautiful soldier inside of it. You hoped he was still sleeping. Hoped that he wouldn’t be made that you hadn’t woken him up. He had tried so hard to stay up, but he’d been on high alert for two months now and he was exhausted. Eventually, sleep had pulled him under, and you’d spent that time memorising his face, the scars on his chest, the spot where his shoulder made way for a mechanic arm. You’d traced the scars there, gentle fingers feeling the thick rugged lines that marred the skin—he’d always been so self-conscious about his scars in his waking hours, it had felt strange to touch them as he slept.

Looking down at your hands now, laying in your lap, you could almost still sense the warmth of his skin on them. It was silly, impossible of course, but you felt it all the same and it brought a smile to your face. Perhaps you could live off the memory of him.

[themidnightfarmer]

Mo(m)relia knows best || Morelia & Jared

Timing: During the season 1 finale.

Location: The farm

Tagging: @morelias & @themidnightfarmer

Description: Morelia comes to Jared’s aid, and promises are made.

Triggers: injury tw? 

It was strange caring for another being - well, caring for one that wasn’t either her dog nor her… Boyfriend, or whatever they were. But Morelia still found herself making her way through the familiar path towards Jared’s farm with a fabric bag hanging from her shoulder, inside a first aid kit that contained, perhaps, more than just first aid items. Unlike other fae, Nymphs weren’t particularly known for their healing abilities which was why the lampade sometimes smuggled medical tools from their job at the hospital to keep at home if she would ever need them, like when she had to stitch up her arm after a werewolf attack not too long ago, or now, to fix whatever Jared had managed to do to his bite wound. Once the gates were in sight, clearly illuminated by the strong light of the full moon, Morelia stopped moving forward, the sound of enraged animals faint but noticeable in the distance. If she could hear them, then it couldn’t be good. The only reason she didn’t fear visiting him despite the potential threat of angry beasts eating her was because she could just poof herself out of there. Taking her phone out, she sent the male nymph a quick text, letting him know she had arrived.

As the night started to close in, the impact of the sudden blackouts from the eye sun blinking started to lessen. Although admittedly not by much. With their routine blown and their emotions on edge Jared was having a hard time keeping up with his animals. The beasts were running him ragged and had been for days now. Thus the bite. He was usually on top of everything way better than this, but with ALL of them going a little crazy he’d lost focus for a moment and the proof lay under the tape on his arm. Receiving the text he sighed a small sigh of relief and hopped the gate. Looking back over his shoulder multiple times until he reached Morelia. “Hey Mo.” he greeted with a sheepish sort of smile. His arm was taped from wrist to elbow, and the bicep had a small rash where tape had already been pulled off the massive bite. It spanned his whole left arm -although half was still covered with tape. A particularly nasty cry sounded behind him and he cringed. “Maybe we should go a little bit further down the path. My tractor is parked over there.” 

Black hues immediately landed on the taped arm, a concerned look quickly covering Morelia’s features. It made sense that people thought putting duct tape on a wound could help; in practical terms, it did help a little, helping stop a bleeding and potentially holding together something that on its own wouldn’t in case of larger wounds. But that was just for a short term, and the lampade quickly moved and reached forward to delicately take his arm between her hands, already trying to examine him. She had told a guy online that she had the knowledge necessary for psychiatric patients, but her knowledge extended far beyond that after living and taking her own part in the american civil war. “You said it had bitten you, not that it had tried to rip your arm off.” Looking up, after the cry reached her ears, she shook her head slightly, and she motioned him with her head to start walking with her. “If the size shows anything, it's that I might need to stitch you up. Tending you inside would be much easier, quicker and, of course, more sanitary, but a tractor will do.”

“She didn’t actually try to take my arm off, it looks worse than it is Mo.” he tried to placate her. It was a large bite, but that was only because the animal in question was large in itself. Bies were massive beings -how he passed them off as cows was a mystery to him as well sometimes. But then again with how many human deniers lived in town it wasn’t hard so hard with a little glamour. “She just doesn’t know her own strength.” he defended his charge gently with a soft look in his eyes. No matter the damage his kids would accidentally do to him he’d never think any less of them. It happened so infrequently nowadays he hardly had moments like these. Maybe that’s why he was so lacking in medical equipment. “I’ve got a water pipe that runs alongside the trail to the gate, we can wash it out.” Jared was honestly just pleased someone was there to see to it. He genuinely hadn’t been prepared, and honestly with how everyone online had reacted to the tape idea he should feel very lucky she made her way out. He moved off by her side and shrugged. “It’s okay Mo I’m a little more resistant to bies bites, it’s kind of my life at this point.”

Black hues rolled to the back of her head, and a soft but audible sigh left her lips. There was enough medical experience in Morelia to know that when someone claimed their situation wasn’t as bad, it meant the complete opposite, especially when you were dealing with stubborn kids like Jared. “I will be the one to decide that.” The fact that the male nymph had all these dangerous creatures with him didn’t quite shock her as much as the fact that he could keep them under control - despite her own fondness towards animals and, well, critters in general, she had to admit that his bond and how it helped him deal with them was admirable; something to be jealous of, even, if she cared enough. “Well, that certainly does not help me worry less about your well being, my dear.” A side glance as they walked, the worry still present in her features. “I know these creatures are your… thing, but you ought to be more careful. Especially in a strange town like this.”

He couldn’t argue with her there. She was the expert in this one, even if he was technically more knowledgeable about what a bies bite might do in the long run. “It’s been years since I got a bite like this,” Jared tried to argue with her. “I’ve gotten so much better this last year at really truly communicating with them. The eye in the sky just kind of shot the connection. The increased stress on the kids made one start running itself a little too ragged. So I stepped in. It was going well until another blackout hit, got crunched for my efforts. But only because I shoved my arm between it and a passing bonedoggle. I like my charges alive you know.” He explained as they approached the tractor. “Lived here my whole life Mo, nothing really scares me so much anymore. Just sort of have to get on with it you know?...thanks for coming out though, appreciate it. Genuinely thought tape was a good idea.” he laughs sheepishly. 

“And that is exactly why I’m leaving this--” She raised her kit for enfasis. “-- here with you. The next time you require professional medical attention, either for another bite or large cut or any other situations involving your animals, you will call me and not try to follow the advice of strangers online, because that is not smart. Do you agree?” Morelia hated promise binding a fellow fae, but with how stubborn this kid and seeming that going to the hospital was out of the question, it looked like the only way. The tractor was already on sight, and for a moment she hated the fact that she was wearing a dress and heels, because getting on that would prove to be a challenge. But alas. Fashion comes first. “I’m not telling you to neglect your… kids.” She winced when mentioning the word, slightly disgusted that she had actually said it out loud. “Just to be careful. We have a funny eye sun that I thankfully don’t get to experience. There were fish falling from the sky. Who knows if the next hellish curse this down gets is random animal possession.”

He was completely innocent to the fact she was promise binding him into something until he’d already uttered the words “Ok Mo, I’ll do that.” And then his face went slack and he stopped walking. “Why did you do that to me?” He thought through her wording even if he couldn’t do anything about it now. “You’re going to get sick and tired of being my personal nurse.” He warned her. “That was a dirty trick.” he accuses then but does continue walking anyway. He did need her to look at his arm this time, he supposed she’d be doing this every time from now on. Reaching the tractor Jared offered Morelia a hand, and his knee to boost her so that she could climb into the cab. “I’d be able to feel it. I have a handle on them usually, the eye is just….offputting.” 

Morelia couldn’t help but sigh when the other so willingly accepted her promise, almost disappointed at how he hadn’t touched the terms at all. Still, she laughed when he rebuked her, not stopping with him when he did, but slowing down her pace for him to catch up. “Oh, Jared love. You should know better by now. Perhaps we should add fae lessons to that deal, since you seem to need them terribly.” Her tone was playful, and though what she said could’ve easily be taken as an insult, she really meant her offer to help him. Once he helped and both were settled in the tractor, Morelia searched inside her now almost empty fabric bag for her phone and, after turning in the flashlight, she . “I need you to illuminate my lap so I can work.” Once she made sure he was doing that, Morelia carefully grabbed his taped arm and slowly pulled it towards her, hands softly tapping it and applying light pressure as she made her way down from his elbow to wrist, eyes moving from the arm to the fae to see where it hurt most. “I will try to take this off without major inconveniences, but I’m afraid that also means I cannot rip it off fast to make it hurt less.” And then after a beat, and just because she was used to the hospital protocols, she added- “Does that sound okay?”

Jared found himself in this situation all the time. Not looking deeply enough into things that he should have. He wasn’t sure he’d ever be savvy enough to pick up on everything that a more experienced fae would. He supposed that promise wasn’t all too bad. Having a person to call when he required a little bit of hands on aid wasn’t the worst. And Morelia was -at least to him- kind enough to care. He held the phone and didn’t stop singing her praises while she worked. He appreciated her help, and if that came at the price of ALWAYS needing to contact her for similar instances so be it. 

[cupofteaguk]

the write ups

PART OF THE REPUTATION SERIES

summary: head boy Min Yoongi is a lot of things: patient, perfect, popular, and unwavering; structured so that nothing can threaten that mindset. nothing, except for you.

pairing: yoongi x fem!reader

genre: hogwarts au, head boy!yoongi, enemies to lovers au | fluff 

warnings: yoongi has a stick up his ass, many mentions of detentions various depictions of it that may or may not be accurate to actual Hogwarts detentions but alas i cannot say for certain

word count: 10k

.

When Min Yoongi is seventeen, he receives the school authority to go around acting as if there were a giant stick up his ass. In other words, he gets selected to be a Head Boy.

Unfortunately, the role is entirely too fitting for a boy who appears to have spent the first half of his childhood reading the handbook of rules for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry line by line and the second half of his childhood reciting those rules to anyone just barely beginning to step out of bounds. You would be very familiar with the lectures he gives, given how often you’ve had to listen through on several of his different accusations regarding your rule breaking and lack of discipline.

There’s no surprise you are slightly less than fond about the thought of Min Yoongi. After all, he’s served as the catalyst for several incidents that only continue to put a bad taste in your mouth. Like that time during your first year when you were frantically attempting to finish the rest of your Transfiguration homework the morning of the due date, only to be discovered and reported—resulting in a stern talking to from Professor McGonagall about the importance of time management and leaving your cheeks red with humiliation. Who had reported you? Min Yoongi.

Or the time in your third year when you and Karly were passing notes to one another about who was going to ask Quidditch star Jeon Jungkook to the approaching Yule Ball, only to be rapidly interrupted by a loud observation about your diverted attention. Long story short, not only did neither you nor Karly get to ask Jeon Jungkook to the Yule Ball, Jeon Jungkook (and everyone else, for that matter) knew of both your pathetic thirteen-year-old crush as well as the intentional process to progress an acquaintanceship with one of the most popular boys in school, but you also got your first taste of detention at the hands of Professor Snape. Who had delivered that loud observation? Min Yoongi.

To this day, just the sight of the polished silver trophies in the trophy room is more than enough to make you nauseous, having spent an entire night scrubbing relentlessly at the metal until a reflection appeared across the surface. Like bad memories, your hatred for Yoongi brew under the surface and became something you thought about constantly—despite the fact that he was more often than not barely even worth a breath or a thought.

Although you know not to dwell on his actions and the outcome you had to pay for those aforementioned actions, you learn quickly how to mask your embarrassment as well as a large extent of your emotions. Seventeen-years-old looks a little better on you as you have four years of life, experience, and the ability to develop immunity against general embarrassing moments or moments of distaste. Well, for the most part at least.

“What?” You have to bite your tongue to keep yourself from exerting too much of an exasperation, too much of a snarky nature that seems like the verbal form of rolling your eyes. “Min Yoongi got selected as Head Boy? You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Good friend Karly sits opposite of you in the Leaky Cauldron, joining in on your criticism with an actual roll of her own eyes as her wrist flicks so that her palm faces upwards. “Apparently being charming in a way that involves kissing up to all the Professors is enough to guarantee you anything you would possibly want.”

You hum quietly underneath your breath, cradling the beer mug within your reach as you swirl the thing. The food you have ordered in front of you goes untouched. “I didn’t think Min Yoongi even wanted to be Head Boy. Thought he was too hung up on terrorizing young children who forget to turn in their homework assignments.”

Karly actually laughs at that, reaching over to pick at the french fries in the middle of the table. “I think that’s just with you.”

You roll your eyes back with a whine. “Please don’t remind me. As if Yoongi wasn’t already annoying enough, now he’s gonna be annoying with actual reason of authority. The highest reason of authority, for that matter.” You glare across at Karly. “Besides, he’s picked on you too. It’s not like his eagle eyes for trouble isn’t zeroed in on me. Have you forgotten the time we pulled that all-nighter in the trophy room because we had to clean all the trophies—because of Min Yoongi?”

“Oh no,” Karly interjects, palms directed at you this time. “I definitely remember that. But that’s the extent to which Yoongi has gone to rat me out, and I have a feeling that was only because you were gushing about how good Jungkook’s arms look like when gripping a broomstick!”

“Please do not remind me,” You emphasize, the slight flush on your cheeks serving as a reminder that of course you would remember such a thing. Jeon Jungkook has been part of Quidditch (and school, for that matter) royalty since his first year and all his accumulating friendships just add to that list of popularity. It explains why Yoongi is doing so well at the top of the school food chain.

Regardless, your crush on Jungkook is old news, as you are sure his head is too far up his ass, his mind is too fixated on playing professionally, and his mouth is prided upon kissing the most girls during after hours at the Three Broomsticks. You’ve taken to fixing your attention on much more pressing matters: like the upcoming NEWTs of your final year, or figuring out how to remain emotionally sane during your last year at Hogwarts, or just trying to navigate around handling Yoongi for one more moment.

“Oh god, speaking of…” Karly starts, trailing off when her eyes flicker towards the entrance of the Leaky Cauldron before immediately shifting back to you. Her eyes are hard and you don’t need a whole five years of friendship with Karly to know who she is referring to.

Although you normally would refuse to look over your shoulder to look upon what you know to be the bane of your existence, the temptation is strong this time around. Maybe it’s because you’ve gone the typical two months of summer vacation without having to hear his stupid voice that has only gotten deeper and silkier with the help of puberty or seen his dumb face that curves in all the right places. The thought only makes you hate him more.

As you look over to peer at him, you notice immediately that he’s with two other friends, two other pieces of the popularity crew. Kim Namjoon, Gryffindor, head of school newspaper The Hogwarts Daily, family who has just gotten back from China, or so you heard. Besides him is Jung Hoseok, Hufflepuff, a master at spells but also a master of tricks and pranks. You still remember one time during second year when he levitated a girl’s bottle of ink and accidentally spilled the entire content over her uniform.

You wish you could turn back around and go back to minding your own business, but a familiar yet unwelcoming weight places itself right behind your chair and Karly’s wary look leaves little to the imagination.

“Min Yoongi,” You greet in a false high-pitched voice that sounds anything but genuine. “I thought I could hear the cries of screaming children from that hell hole you crawled out of.” You rotate your hips enough to give him half of your attention. He’s alone, and when you flicker your gaze over you notice the two other boys already occupying a nearby table. “What are you doing here? Gonna stand outside Flourish and Blotts and breakdown all your horrible detention punishments to future students who’ll refuse to do their homework?”

Min Yoongi gives you a half-smirk, a little light setting in his eyes. “Charming as ever, I see. Although I’m warning you—you really shouldn’t talk that way to your new Head Boy. Haven’t you heard the news?”

“Unfortunately I did,” You return, turning around so that you give Yoongi your back. You reach for your mug of beer. “I hope you don’t expect me to go around kissing your ass and bending over for your every single whim.”

With your back on Yoongi, you don’t even know if he’s still around to hear these vaguely defined threats regarding his potential use of power. You do, however, stop when you feel a breath right at the shell of your ear. “I mean, you said it, not me.”

Your heart sticks itself right in your throat.

By the time you whirl back to look at Yoongi, he’s already making his way towards his friends at the other table. Karly is giving a wide-eyed look, as if she cannot believe what she just witnessed with her own two eyes.

You’re not even sure you would stand to explain it properly.

“I’m going to murder him slowly,” You say instead, reaching into your bag and pulling out enough money to cover the cost of the meal and the beers. You throw it on the table, grabbing your coat and scarf from the back of your chair. “C’mon, let’s get to Flourish and Blotts before Yoongi decides to make camp outside to terrorize the children.”

.

September first means an early wake-up call. It means meeting up with Karly at King’s Cross station and making your way together towards the platform division between nine and ten. It means running the carts headfirst and hearing the whistle of the train ringing loudly in your ear, serving as the best reminder that you are returning home.

Sticking to the normal pattern you have developed and memorized, you and Karly load your trunks and belongings into the side of the train before boarding. You meet up with Ronnie in a compartment he has saved for the three of you to occupy, giving you all a private space to gush to one another about the events of your summer holiday and what you hope the final year will consist of.

The art of catching up with two friends who have had their own set of vacations and plans and drama is a whole day ordeal. It helps time go by quicker, makes the hours between leaving Kings Cross to arriving at Hogwarts feel like nothing. Add the sweets from the trolley, it calls for a train ride of sugar and chocolate and a little too much laughter that leaves you breathless.

The sky is adapting a pinkish tint, a well-versed sign that the train ride is coming to a close—you assume it’s probably another hour or so before the train docks at the station and yet the conversations between the three of you are far from done. In fact, Ronnie is still telling you of the story in which he traveled to Japan over the summer holiday for one of those intricate silk bomber jackets when there is a knock on your compartment door. The silhouette doesn’t leave much indication about who could be on the other side, so you exchange a look with Karly before straightening up and sliding open the compartment.

You yelp slightly, blinking once, twice, thrice, upon the realization that Min Yoongi is standing right in front of you. From the looks of it, he’s already dressed and ready to depart from the train—all robes with his green tie perfectly grazed at his neck, the bright golden HEAD BOY badge displayed proudly right on top of Yoongi’s robe almost as if it were glaring at you or laughing at you instead. It takes a second to gather your bearings, which finds you leaning slightly against the doorframe leading into the compartment.

“Min Yoongi,” You greet.

He cocks up an eyebrow, repeating your name back to you.

“You’re a long ways off from that pit of fire you were created from.”

Yoongi cracks a smile. “Pit of fire—so you think I’m hot?”

You snort at that. “Did I say pit of fire? I meant more of a mixing bowl for the devil, from where I’m assuming he created you.”

The smile slips off Yoongi’s face as he levels you with a glare. “You’re lucky we’re not on school grounds yet and that I’m feeling lenient enough to let you off. But I can’t make those promises when we arrive.”

You roll your eyes. Did he expect you to be grateful about his current and extremely short-lived generous nature?

And yet, Yoongi is not done with his interrogation. “How have you fared with the summer holiday homework?” He inquires next, tilting his head to the side. “Personally, I thought the essay we had to write for Professor Snape was the hardest.” At your momentary gape of silence, Yoongi raises an eyebrow once again. “You did do the homework, right?”

“Yah, of course I did Min Yoongi!” You snap.

“For your sake, I hope you did too,” He replies, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Otherwise I’d have to give you detention a lot sooner than I originally anticipated.”

“Hold your breath,” You retort. “I did the assignments.” You’ve been getting better at lying straight through your teeth, having to master the skill just to avoid certain situations like this with Min Yoongi.

Yoongi seems to yield at that, because he steps back and his eyes don’t look as dark as a few seconds ago—although you cannot recall when they became dark in the first place. “We’ll be arriving at Hogwarts soon,” He reports, eyes flickering down to you attire. “You should get dressed soon.”

“I know we’re arriving soon, I’m not a child, Yoongi,” You hiss.

“Well, from the way you were dressed at the Leaky Caldron, I was beginning to think otherwise—!”

You slam the compartment door right back in his face.

Ronnie and Karly are giving each other a look, a look that shifts as you move from the door frame back into your seat. It seems like there are a whole bunch of questions Ronnie wishes to ask in this situation, but he resorts instead to: “Did you really finish all your homework from the summer holiday?”

You’re halfway through on peeling the jacket off your frame when you give your friend a look of disbelief. “Of course not, that’s what the night before classes start is for.”

As you’re shifting your normal attiring for your Hogwarts robe and ties, you think about the encounter with Yoongi and how his attitude towards you hadn’t been that surprising considering the prior years in which the pair of you have known each other. Yoongi has been integrated into your life since the very first year, in which his attitude towards you always seemed to adopt a pattern of general sass and reporting. As far as you were concerned, you have been at the center of Yoongi’s target from the beginning in which you could never escape his mean remarks or his desire to have justice served in the form of seeing you planted in detention. Nothing much has changed from those earlier years. He still seeks you out and somehow it always ends up with you getting some form of detention and still knows exactly what to say to get you riled up—granted, in the more recent years he’s taken to banters upholding more flirtatious qualms.

But you had refused to put too much thought into it, staying secure on the thought and belief that the things he said and the things he did were made with no intention other than to mark up your permanent record. And for that, you only knew to hate Yoongi more and more and desired nothing but to return the favor of exasperation for him as he had done for you.  

It seems as if it might be a more difficult feat than you originally thought, especially when you walk into the Slytherin common room with your bag of unfinished homework assignment later that evening only to find Yoongi himself situated right in front of the fireplace.

Yoongi turns his attention towards the source of noise, eyebrow raising at the sight of you standing in the common room with a bag slung over your shoulder. He greets you by your name. “Fancy seeing you this evening, Miss Y/N,” He starts, straightening up and out of his chair as you notice he is still in his school attire. “As pleasant as it is to see you, I hope you realize it’s past curfew for students to be out of their beds.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “There are no curfews for students of that limitation.”

“Well, when the school’s Head Boy is part of your House, there’s always a curfew for students to follow.” He tilts his head to the side in mock curiosity, and yet something in his eyes plagues you as it always does—as it always seems like Min Yoongi is one too many steps ahead of you. “Besides, there’s no reason for you to be down here unless you are, perhaps, working on something.”

You shift, gripping the bag of your materials tighter in your grasp. “What would I be working on? There’s no assignments yet.”

“You tell me, Miss Y/N,” Yoongi counters, shifting his standing position so he could lean back on one of his legs. Despite his more casual stance, everything about him reads serious. “Given that you’re not working on anything, I think that you should go back to the rooms and get some sleep. I’m sure you have a whole day of classes, do you not?”

You fingers curl tighter and tighter around the strap of the bag at your shoulder, debating whether knocking Yoongi’s head with your textbooks and parchment paper would do enough to knock him out.

You’re so caught up in the serious consideration of this plan that you fail to notice Yoongi has moved closer to you the tips of both your shoes are touching. “So, class tomorrow?”

You level yourself with Yoongi’s half curious half amused glance before you find yourself caving. “I can’t,” You finally answer.

He raises an eyebrow. “You can’t go to class?”

“No,” You interject, already starting to grow exhausted of the conversation and you wish you spoke the truth earlier on the train if only to avoid this type of confrontation. Or, rather, a part of you wishes that you had just done the assignments when you were supposed to. “No, I mean I can go to class but I can’t go to sleep and I can’t leave the common room.”

“Hm,” Yoongi ponders this as if the question is actually something he has to think about and as if this situation isn’t something he has been hoping for since the encounter on the train. “Why is that?”

“Are you really going to make me spell it out, Min Yoongi?” You growl.

“I think I would appreciate it if you did.”

If your glare could cut, Yoongi would be a dead man. But he’s a dead man with an extremely cocky smile, as if he knows exactly what his questions and observations and general playing dumb is doing to you.

“Fine,” You snap back, holding up the bag for him to see. “Inside this bag is my summer homework assignments, okay? I didn’t get to finish them over the holiday, so I really need this time to get everything done. There, see, that’s the reason why I can’t go up yet. Are you happy?”

He shrugs half-heartedly. “Not really.”

Your glare hardens. “Yah, what do you want from me, Min Yoongi? I told you the truth, I need to do my assignments—are you gonna let me do it or not?”

“See, I could but,” Yoongi starts, taking another step forward and forcing you to take a corresponding step backwards. “Allowing you to do such a thing would defeat the purpose of it being summer homework.”

“Yoongi, let me do the homework,” You grit out between clenched teeth.

Yoongi ponders this for a moment. “Alright then,” He allows, stepping to the side. You, however, barely make it one step before his stupid voice is ringing out again. “Detention, Miss Y/N.”

“Detention?” You echo loudly. “Just because I didn’t do the homework?”

“Honestly?” He starts. “I could care less about the homework. Lying to Head Boy, however, is something I cannot excuse.” He grins, a horrible Cheshire cat smile. “Not that I would want to, anyhow.”

You clench your teeth together, so sure that if something was in between your teeth it would have snapped in half. “You absolute piece of—!”

“Shh,” Yoongi hushes, actually having the nerve to step forward and bring his index finger up so that it hovers over your lips. “Careful, Y/N. I don’t want to have to give you more detention for also swearing in front of your Head Boy.”

You like to think there’s a lot of things you are thinking in this moment. Rather than simply knocking Yoongi to the ground, you ponder locking him outside of the common room or throwing him out the window or feeding him to the magical creatures hidden in the Forbidden Forest. But the fear of having this disagreement drag on further in a way that will waste more time that you could be using on your assignments keeps you at bay.

You keep your mouth shut, which leads to Yoongi delivering another smirk. “Alright, I’ll leave you to it then. Have a good night.”

And with that, he steps back and steps around you, leaving you to only imagine locking him out, throwing him out, or feeding him away—as well as imagine what your first detention of the new school year will be like.

You absolutely hate Min Yoongi.

.

Your first detention of the new school year takes place on an early Saturday morning a few weeks into the new school year, assigned to clean one of the abandoned bathrooms with no help and no magic. Naturally, the smell and the labor and the exhaustion is more than enough to leave you in a bad mood as you find that you are practically seething by the time you make it into the shower. The water washes off the sweat and grime of a day that has started at five in the morning, but does little to take away the irritation that rolls off your body like steam.

Despite starting so early in the morning, by the time you finish with your shower and prepare a bag of assignments to take with you throughout the day—the breakfast is set out in the Great Hall and students from each of the houses have gathered to enjoy the meal.

“Hey—woah,” Karly starts, stopping immediately as if she can see deep enough into your soul to see the fiery depths of your anger. “What’s up with you? What happened?”

You slide into the seat next to your friend, hair still damp and eyes red from the early morning wake-up call. “Shit,” You reply, leaning forward to rest your forehead into the palm of your hand.

“Really?” Karly inquires sympathetically. “Detention must have been rough?”

“No, literally—shit,” You try again. Eyes still closed, you turn to face her. “I had to clean the bathrooms on the third floor.”

Karly’s momentary look of disgust is all she needs to do. “Oh my god, the ones that were closed after Moaning Myrtle clogged a bunch of them?”

“Yes!” You emphasis with a whine, pulling away from your palms and pouting. How could the world be so cruel to assign you such a labor intensive job as punishment? “All because Yoongi is such a stick up the ass about some dumb misunderstanding we had gotten into.”

Karly narrows your eyes. “Didn’t you lie straight to his face?”

“Who’s side are you on?” You snap.

“You’re not mad because it was a misunderstanding,” Karly corrects, pouring more breakfast onto her plate. “You’re mad because Yoongi has a stick up his ass, period. And he does.”

You sigh, easing up on yourself just enough to put some food on your own plate. “Well, you’re not wrong.” You straighten slightly, gaze shifting up and down the Slytherin table. These first minutes of conversation with Karly has been nice, of course, but has also been unusual. Post-detention torture is usually followed up with a sickening smile from the man who assigned you the detention in the first place, followed by a whole bunch of inquiries about the detention session as if he wasn’t the reason for your misery. Post-detention torture is filled with Min Yoongi, which is exactly what your morning is missing.

“He’s not here,” Karly remarks.

You stare at her. “Well, where is he?”

“Not sure,” She replies with a shrug. “He sort of left out that information while we were braiding each other’s hair and sharing our deepest and darkest secrets with one another.”

“You could just said you weren’t sure and left it at that,” You grumble, sending a pointed glare to her cheesy grin. But just as you fix your gaze on Karly, your gaze immediately gravitates towards the entrance to the Great Hall and you see three familiar figures lingering in the frame. Familiar not because of the friendly feelings that the sight fills you with; but familiar because of the reputations that come along with it.

At the frame leading into the Great Hall stands Min Yoongi, Jeon Jungkook, and Kim Taehyung and it appears that they’re still in the middle of joking about something. Min Yoongi and Kim Taehyung are dressed in a casual Saturday attire of a polo, slacks, and the ties showing off their house colors while Jungkook is sporting a Ravenclaw sweater and is balancing his Firebolt atop shoulder.

“They probably just got back from the Ravenclaw Quidditch practice,” Karly voices your own internal observation. She follows your gaze down the hallway to where the boys are conversing; but the sight is enough to get you to turn back to your own meal. “I think Yoongi saw us, he’s looking this way,” Karly continues to comment, although her attention is still heavily diverted at staring quite openly at the three boys.

“Probably thinking about how he could embarrass me in front of Jeon Jungkook again,” You spit out, despite not being affected by the sight of Jungkook. Your little crush on him is ancient news, but the sight of Yoongi and Jungkook together sometimes just brings back memories that are four years old.

Karly actually laughs at that. “I doubt that. He keeps glancing over here. I wonder if he’s wondering how your detention went. Maybe if he knew you had to clean toilets, he’d feel a little guilty.”

“I don’t even think feeling guilty is in his limited range of emotions,” You note, digging a fork into your eggs. But something about her words stick with you for a moment. Although you doubt that Yoongi would ever think to connect guilt to your punishment, you like to think you could do something to level the playing ground. Or, more simply put maybe getting back at him this once would be enough to ease your desire for revenge. “Hm.” You ponder, placing your bag on your lap and immediately digging through the contents. It’s an old bag, something you’ve had packed since the beginning of the year and has since served as a trash can of sorts that you throw a wide variety of items into. You continue your search, mind wandering to your Diagon Alley visit and a corresponding purchase you remember stuffing into your bag.

Karly takes note of your silence long enough to shift her attention back to you. “What are you doing—?” She cuts herself off mid-sentence, eyes widening slightly when she sees the jar you are producing. She starts to laugh. “Oh my fucking god, dude.”

“What?” You inquire, lips starting to quirk up slightly as the weight of the U-No-Poo jar starts to settle more in your lap.

She continues to laugh, rolling her eyes slightly but the smile is still there. Karly isn’t your best friend, your partner in crime, well-equipped in the behavior that has landed you in detention, for nothing. “Well, alright, hand some over.”

Grinning, you pick out two pills of the U-No-Poo and hand it over to Karly. You watch for a moment as she pulls out her wand in order to break down the original structural integrity of the pills, reducing them into crushed particles.

Initially, you had purchased the jar of U-No-Poo from the Wealseys’ Wizard Wheezes shop in Diagon Alley with little intention of doing anything with it. Just the thought of having it filled you with a sense of power—especially considering what it did.

As you wait for Karly to bring you back to Earth, you turn the jar in your palm to read the labels. Basically, U-No-Poo is a product that brings constipation to the taker—not exactly the most pleasant experience for anyone who had the misfortune of ingesting this pill. That’s why you never had a genuine thought of sharing the product with anyone. But that was before Yoongi gave you detention under the prefix of something as stupid as a lie.

Just as you’re slipping the jar back into your bag, Karly holds up her plate that is now devoid of food with the exception of the crushed U-No-Poo pills. With another smile, you grab one of the glasses of water in front of you and dump the crushed remnants into the liquid. You look into the glass, swirling it once or twice before you look back out down the hall. Yoongi is still there with Jungkook and Taehyung.

“If you get caught, Yoongi will totally drag you to hell,” Karly advises, but she’s still smiling and even twists herself a little in the bench to get the best view. It’s almost amazing how neither of you have been caught or questioned, but the Saturday morning crowds for breakfast are never too crazy so it’s more natural for groups to come together and keep to themselves. It’s the perfect atmosphere for trouble.

“With the way he’s been my entire life, it kind of feels like I’m already there,” You retort, grabbing your bag and detaching yourself from the table as you make your way down the stretch of distance towards the end.

Jungkook and Taehyung are at the beginnings of disembarking from the group just as you’re approaching. Taehyung is making his way towards the Hufflepuff table while Jungkook is turning on his heel to exit the Great Hall—probably to take a shower and put down his Firebolt. This leaves Yoongi wide open to conversation, one he immediately invites you to with a quirked eyebrow and a call of your name.

“Heard you finally got your detention,” Yoongi greets, stuffing his hands into his pockets and the distance between you allows you to take in the stance. There’s something almost irritating and unfair about the veins that decorate down his arms and the traitorous lingering of your gaze makes you want to curse yourself. It also makes you want to punch him in the mouth.

“No thanks to you,” You say, still holding the drink to your chest. You try to think about how you want to play this out. “But luckily for you, it wasn’t that bad. Just cleaning. Anything worse and I would have attempted to drive a brick for your head as soon as you walked in.”

Yoongi quirks an eyebrow at the threat. “If a more challenging punishment lets me see the more feisty side of you, I may have to talk to Filch about changing some things around.”

“Why? Because you like seeing me feisty?” You retort, meaning nothing with that kind of question. Although the way Yoongi looks at you afterwards makes you falter.

“Oh, I think I might like seeing you a little bit more than that.”

Your heart stammers in your chest and you want to plummet it into the ground as a result. Yoongi is giving you a familiar challenging look, the type of expression that is encouraging you (daring you) to continue. Rather, you adjust the strap of your bag on your shoulder and give him a tight-lipped smile. “Are you going to go sit down and eat?”

If he’s disappointed in your abrupt change of topic, he doesn’t give an indication of that. Rather, he jumps on the new pace of discussion. “Naw, I stopped by just to walk with Taehyung. I actually have a meeting with some professors that I have to get to soon.”

“Hm, you should at least have something in your body,” You note, shuffling forward and tilting the glass of water towards him. “You want some?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Since when do you share?”

You snort. “Are you implying that you think I would be okay with you getting your germs on something I’ve already drank? Of course not. This is a new glass—something originally for me but given that I’ve already eaten, I wouldn’t mind letting you have this.” You don’t leave him with another choice as you step forward and practically shove the glass into his hands. This brings you closer to him, almost able to feel the warmth of his presence, but you pull back. “I have to go to the library.”

You make a beeline to get out of sight, looking over your shoulder just in time to see Yoongi take a sip of the water.

The remainder of the day proceeds normally—you spend a majority of your day in the library working on the first Transfiguration essay of the year as well as studying for your upcoming Care of Magical Creatures exam. Saturdays are filled with the books and the sunlight streaming in through the glass windows of the library, company that eventually takes the form of Ronnie and Karly.

In fact, it’s such a normal Saturday afternoon that you completely forget about the repercussions from the morning until you walk into the Slytherin common room and find Min Yoongi lying on the couch and groaning into the pillow.

“Oh my god,” Ronnie observes immediately, coming up to the edge of the couch where Yoongi’s feet are rested. “What’s up with him?” He lowers his voice, despite the fact that you’re the only individuals in the common room at this time of day. “Yoongi, are you okay?”

When Yoongi doesn’t respond, you tilt your head slightly. “Maybe he’s sleeping on a stomachache.”

“Maybe he ate something,” Ronnie supplies.

“Or drank something,” Karly includes with a playful wiggle of her eyebrows.

You scoff to hide a laugh. “Karly, no.”

“Uh, Karly yes,” Ronnie interjects, leaning over so that he can catch a better glimpse of the two of you. “What did you do? Poison him?”

“No!” You hiss.

“You might as well have,” Karly adds with a shrug, before turning to Ronnie. “She slipped U-No-Poo into his water.”

“Detention, Miss. Y/N!” Yoongi crows, sitting straight up on the couch as the sudden movement drags a scream out of the remaining three of you. It seems, however, that the action has prompted too much movement for a sickening Yoongi, because he falls back against the couch with a groan. “It was you! I knew that water had to be spiked with something—I’ve been feeling like shit ever since then.”

“Oh my god, keep it in Min Yoongi,” You retort, lips edging into a smile as you round the couch in order to hover near his head. “Not that you have a choice, anyway.”

Without a warning, Yoongi reaches out to grab the collar of your shirt and pulls you down. On instinct, your hands come up to land right on his chest. The arms distance away from him is more than enough to provide a separation between the two of you, and yet you can still feel the warmth of his body through his shirt and you can see the glint in his eyes.

Even though he’s upside down in your field of vision, it’s hard to miss the glint and the weight of his finger pulling at your collar. “Detention for a week, Miss. Y/N,” He grumbles and you almost forget to feel angry over the tripping of your heart.

.

Following a week’s worth of different detentions that consist of a wide range of different activities like polishing the silverware to sweeping the entire school grounds last into the night with the only company taking the form of airy ghosts, to cleaning the glass windows and venturing into the Forbidden Forest for unicorn blood. All these things have contributed higher and higher to your exhaustion and your increasing desire to keep counteracting Yoongi’s detention punishments with your own form of payback.

This mostly takes the form of Karly meeting up with you in the Slytherin common room on a Tuesday morning to begin descending towards the ground floor for your morning classes. “Are you good?” Karly inquires after a moment, shouldering her bag and directing you with a stare. “Like sanity-wise? You good? A week’s worth of detention seems like more than enough to drive anyone crazy.”

“I’m okay,” You answer, although the distant soreness in your legs and arms tells another story. “Sore, though. And filled with a desire to kill Min Yoongi.”

Karly nods. “The usual response.”

“I mean, what’s up with him?” You grumble as the pair of you enter your Charms class. Given that you and Karly do not sit together, you continue to linger near the doorframe in order to keep the conversation going. “I always figured that slipping U-No-Poo into water would have earned like a day’s worth of detention, not a week. Who gives people a week’s detention, anyways?”

“Like I said,” Karly supplies with a shrug of her shoulders. “He’s got his eye on you. Like, really has his eyes on you.”

“Shut up,” You snap back, flashing back to the conversation the pair of you had in the Leaky Cauldron all that time ago and suddenly feeling nauseous.

Karly’s laugh leaves little hope that she’s just fucking around to make you nervous. Instead, you choose to ignore her as you turn away and enter deeper into the classroom. The space between you and Karly is mainly emphasised by another desk and a row—a desk taken by Hufflepuff Jung Hoseok, someone whose connection with Min Yoongi is something you don’t really bat an eye to. At least, in comparison to the other boys and their relationship with Yoongi. More often than not, when it came to Jung Hoseok, he wasn’t really one to rat someone out.

Apparently, the day is counting on that because as soon as you settle in your seat and take in topic of the upcoming lecture, Hoseok is sliding a paper onto your desk. He gives you a head tilt towards Karly’s direction when you give him a pair of inquiring eyes, allowing you to lean forward just enough to catch aforementioned friends eye. She quirks an eyebrow, turning back to face the front.

You do the same, flickering towards the blackboard and mountain of books that Professor Flitwick stands atop of. He’s providing an introduction of a Gripping Charm, which is always about as interesting as one would think when learning about a spell but being unable to start practical application. The slow-moving pace of the day allows you to take the time and unfold the paper from Karly.

Look up, guess who’s watching you again

Eyebrows furrowing, you look at Karly again. She’s must feel the weight of your gaze because she quirks her head just enough to give you a look. You return it, holding the note a little higher to inquire about it without actually inquiring about it. She smiles a little, tilting her head a little towards the front of the room. Clueless, your eyes follow her line of sight and you’re not entirely sure why you feel your heart trip slightly when your gaze meets one Min Yoongi, who has turned slightly in his chair a few rows ahead of you just to watch you in your seat.

After a moment of this stare-down, Yoongi shift his gaze down to your desk before moving back up to your face. He knows you’re passing notes—well, not that you and Karly ever tried to be extremely subtle about your actions.

You press your lips together. Maintaining eye-contact, you take the parchment Karly had given to you and your quill and begin writing something down.

Min Yoongi is a poop head

Looking back up, you find Yoongi is still staring at you. His eyes have hardened slightly, challenging you to follow through on something that will most definitely get you in trouble. You don’t care. You turn to Hoseok, to which he takes the note and mindlessly hands it to Karly before—!

Yoongi straightens up out of his seat, darting towards the row separating you and Karly in order to snatch the note out of Hoseok’s hands. Yoongi gives Hoseok a look, one that Hoseok returns with amusement to showcase how little fucks Hoseok has in contributing to less-than-perfect behavior, for it’s in his nature and part of his charm. But of course, Yoongi overlooks Hoseok in the long run to feed you a look.

You tilt your head down slightly in a nod, lifting your palm up towards him in an inviting gesture. It’s a gesture to read the note you have so graciously written with the knowledge that he would see it and read it.

“Mr. Min, is something wrong?” Professor Flitwick inquires from the front of the classroom.

Yoongi doesn’t answer him at first, instead taking the time to open the note. His gaze takes in the note written across the parchment, silent for a moment before he lowers his arm and slips the note into the back pocket of his slacks. “Nothing, Professor,” Yoongi says after a moment. “I just want Miss. Y/N to know publicly that she just earned herself another detention.”

The statement is followed with a sound quieter than silence, one that envelops the entire room and leaves everyone shocked. Not over the fact that you have just garnered another detention under your belt, but because Yoongi had to announce it in front of everyone.

You, however, are not included in this pool of surprise. Rather, you raise your eyebrows and wear a more amused expression. “Never expected anything less from you, Mr. Min.” And really, you hadn’t. Judging from the slight tint across Yoongi’s cheeks, it seems obvious to believe that he had read the entirety of the note—including Karly’s observation about who had been watching you. His hesitancy to give you detention at the expense of his wandering eyes seems like a slight crack in his otherwise uptight facade and you think you might run with that.

.

The library during the first wave of exam season is always a wild mix of exhaustion—filled with all different types of students just collectively coming together to conquer a singularity goal: pass. With the looming mountain of tests and assignments and essays hovering over everyone, it’s normal to walk through the halls of the library and see students either laughing over the tipping of their sanity, beady eyed trying to get their fifth essay done, or students who have just given up entirely and spend time whispering amongst their friends.

You find yourself drawn between the second and third option, given that you are trying to write your third essay on Magical Creatures while also joking around with Ronnie and Karly.

“Ah, shit,” You grumble, looking over the requirements for your next essay for Transfiguration and realizing you don’t have any of that information in any of the notes (or lack thereof) you’ve taken throughout the lectures. You straighten slightly, tucking your quill, ink, and parchment under your arm. “Alright, I’m gonna go find that Transfiguration textbook. I’ll be right back.”

Karly and Ronnie wave you away as their own form of goodbye, too distracted with their own little game of Wizard’s Chest to process the whole reason for your departure. But you ignore that, slipping into the main hall of the library. You’re too busy overlooking the requirements of the essay and what you’ll have to look for when you locate the Transfiguration aisle of the library that you don’t notice someone equally as distracted walking towards you until you crash into them and feel something like cold, wet ink spraying everywhere.

“Oh—fuck!”

“Ow!”

You look up from your assignments, taking in the sight of Min Yoongi right in front of you. The blackness biting at his shirt and your own makes you realize that that ‘like cold, wet ink’ actually has been cold, wet ink that is now all over your shirt, all over Yoongi’s shirt, and all over the pile of whatever Yoongi had been holding before the collision.

The sight of Yoongi drenched in ink makes you inwardly groan, wondering what the punishment would be since you figure Yoongi would serve you detention under the pretense that you had purposely tried to sabotage his day. “Sorry Min Yoongi,” You speak first. “What’s the damage for this, since I clearly went out of my way to direct an entire bottle of ink on your chest.”

Yoongi stares at you for a long hard minute, but it’s missing that usual glint of scouting out for trouble. Instead, he’s looking at you like he’s seeing you for the first time.

“Just wash our clothes and we’ll call it even,” He grumbles before he brushes past you and continues down the hall, leaving you with your own ink-splattered shirt and a forgotten Transfiguration essay tucked under your arm.

However, in retrospect, having Yoongi entrust you to wash his uniform hadn’t been the smartest decision on his part. Mainly because you still hate him, and you suppose that getting detention would have been a better bargain for him considering that getting detention would avoid letting you get tangled with any of his personal belongings.

You do not know why he doesn’t hand out the punishment, but you want to make sure that he regrets this. You wash the shirt and robe perfectly, just to give this opportunity a fighting chance. You take his green tie, however, and steady it just as you take your quill between your hands once more. With a bottle of that really serious ink—the kind that is almost oil-based in the sense that it is nearly impossible to remove—you dip the quill in and start writing—!

“POOP HEAD?” Min Yoongi’s voice roars through the nearly empty Slytherin common room, earning a noiseless laugh to spread across your lips as your body lurches with the force of your amusement. You should be able to endure the loud kind of laughter that this kind of oncoming prank deserves, given that you are the only person in the common room at this hour on a Thursday. You’re skipping your Astronomy lecture for this, but it’s worth it.

You stay in silence, however, allowing yourself to hear the grumbling curses from Yoongi—talk of what he’s going to do when he finds you and how he’s going to make you buy him a new tie and all that jazz before—!

“Oh.” Yoongi stops at the sight of you leaning against the back of the chair; you, arms crossed and the highest of amusement dancing in your eyes.

“Something wrong, Min Yoongi?” You inquire, although it’s hard not to notice the giant POOP HEAD wording, followed by an arrow pointing upwards towards his face across his green tie. “Nice tie.”

Yoongi grips the fabric a little tighter in his hands, approaching you. “Look at this shit!” He retorts after a moment. “What kind of fucking ink did you use with this? It doesn’t come off, I swear to god Y/N—look at this! What am I supposed to do, walk into class with this? I’m the Head Boy—!”

“Well, I think,” You start, interrupting him as you start forward. Yoongi goes silent, watching as you make your way towards him. “I think the tie looks great.” Playing around a little, a corner of your lips quirk up at the sight of Yoongi looking increasingly frazzled to see you walking closer and closer to him. “I think the color of it really brings out your eyes.” To take things up to an extreme, you take the tie in between your fingers, tugging him closer to you. “Are you sure there’s really a problem to this?”

“I…” Yoongi starts, trailing off the longer his eyes are trained across the expanse of your face: from your eyes to your mouth. It looks like he wants to say something, like he’s dying to say something, but the words are lodged in his throat. You wonder when the last time Yoongi had been in such close proximity to a girl. With all his responsibilities as Head Boy and confiscating dung bombs from fourth years, you assume it must be hard to fit in simple and mundane things like flirting with girls and taking them out on dates or just having a casual conversation with them generally. Although the rest of his friends (especially Jeon Jungkook) have had their fair share of girlfriends, Yoongi always stayed out of the picture.

You never questioned it, sure that Yoongi spent more time terrorizing away girls rather than dating them, and the way he’s looking at you as if you’re growing spikes on your face makes you think that perhaps he’s just scared of you.

He’s standing so close to you at this point that you can feel the warmth of his body traveling towards you and there’s something almost comforting about it. He smells really good too. You wonder what kind of shampoo and soap they offer in the Prefect bathrooms where he probably goes to every night.

“You know what color I’m really thinking represents you?” You inquire, still playing with his tie. When Yoongi doesn’t say anything, you lean so close that your breath tickets his cheek. His breath hitches. “Brown.”

Yoongi nearly pushes you away, scowling at your color description in relation to the statement on his tie.

You laugh. “What’s wrong, Min Yoongi? Was that too much for you? Are you gonna give me detention now for fucking up your tie?”

He thinks about it for a moment before he untangles the tie from around his neck and bunches it in his hand. “I will just buy a new one at Hogsmeade later,” He reports quietly, mostly to himself before turning around and making his way up the stairs.

You watch him leave.

.

February means snow and chill and lovey dovey emotion that can only be felt in the air—for February also means flowers and chocolate and confessions. But to you, February means the most number of detentions, twelve in a row so far and you still reportedly have three more to go.

When you thought the previous two incidents and encounters with Yoongi might have softened him up, it seems as if fucking up his tie had been the wrong card to pull because if he had been hawkeyed on you before, now he’s just unfair.

Your uniform with just a tie out of place? Detention.

Showing up late by five minutes to a lecture simply because there was a line to the restroom? Detention.

In fact, things you’ve done within the past few weeks that have earned you another detention are as listed: whispering in the library, tapping your quill once on the desk, not walking fast enough in the halls, turning in homework with handwriting a little too sloppy—the list goes on. You would be annoyed if you weren’t so exhausted. Twelve detentions in a row is a lot to ask of someone.

Your exhaustion turns into the loss of sanity, until Professor McGonagall calls you into her office and you walk in to find Min Yoongi seated in front of her desk.

You stop short. “Uh, what’s this?” You inquire, gesturing between Professor McGonagall and Min Yoongi. “Is this because of the comment I made against cats in Yoongi’s write-up? That was just a joke, I promise. Am I getting expelled? Because if that comment against the cats is enough to warrant this kind of punishment then I should let you know that Yoongi has been up my ass—!”

Professor McGonagall interrupts you with a shrill call of your name. “Miss. Y/N, please mind your language—why don’t you put your butt on the seat instead of your foot in your mouth.” As you lower yourself slowly into the other chair opposite of her, she speaks again. “And for the record, Miss. Y/N, I had no idea about the comment you made against cats.”

You grit your teeth slightly, berating yourself for saying such a thing. Yoongi presses his lips together to hide his smile, and you kick him in the shin.

Just as Yoongi parts his lips in a silent ring of pain, you speak. “So, Professor McGonagall,” You start loudly. “What seems to be the issue?”

“Well, it has come to my attention that Mr. Min has been giving you a lot of detentions since the start of the school year,” Professor McGonagall notes. “An excessive amount, for that matter. Not that we have anything in our policy that goes against too much detention. In fact, Miss. Y/N—you are scheduled for another detention on February 14th, is that correct?”

“Uh—I assume so,” You reply, sparing a glance towards Yoongi. It’s not like Yoongi pencils you in for detentions whenever it’s convenient for you. He doesn’t even run the detentions for you himself, it’s always Mr. Flich, who has looked increasingly and increasingly more exasperated especially when you know he’s running out of things around the castle for you to do. “Yoongi doesn’t really… tell me anything after telling me I have detention…”

Yoongi looks like he wants to speak up, but he is quickly shot down by Professor McGonagall. “Mr. Min, I just need to let you know that no one will be able to run the detention for Miss. Y/N on February 14th so I will leave you in charge for that day.”

Both of you straighten up at that.

“What?”

“Wait, no.”

“Why?”

“I would rather bathe myself in any river in the Forbidden Forest past midnight and get eaten by a lion.”

“Okay, Y/N, first of all, there are no lions in the Forbidden Forest.”

“How do you know that? There’s no way not to know that. The Forbidden Forest is forbidden to students. What did you do? Sneak in with your idiot friends one time?”

“Kim Namjoon is not an idiot—!”

Your eyes widen and point a finger at Yoongi. “PROFESSOR.”

“Okay, enough you two,” Professor McGonagall interrupts, rubbing at her temples and you wonder if she’s held off on talking to the two of you for so long for this very  reason only. It’s why your normal interactions with Min Yoongi were so short if you could help it. “This is not up for debate. Mr. Min, you are running Miss. Y/N’s detention. As Head Boy, it’s one of your responsibilities. Own up to it. Both of you are dismissed.”

Yoongi sighs, looks like he wants to argue more, but he detaches himself from the seat and makes his way towards the door frame exiting Professor McGonagall’s office. This leaves you little choice but to do the same.

Yoongi is still outside in the hallway by the time you exit. “You could still cancel my detention if you want,” You supply, hands in the pocket of your skirt. “I’m sure you have plans on February 14th that I would hate to intercept with.”

“It’s fine,” Yoongi grumbles. “Meet me in the detention chamber.”

“Bring some candles, Min Yoongi!” You call teasingly.

.

Min Yoongi is unsuspiciously moody on February 14th when you enter the confines of the detention chamber. He’s facing the blackboard and looks to be deep in thought. That thought, however, is crossed out when he grumbles something as soon as your footsteps sound through the chamber. “You’re late.”

“I got lost,” You lie.

“Shut up.” Yoongi whirls around, sneering. “You’ve been down here plenty of times—in fact, you were here just last week. Got lost, my ass.”

“Oh is that what I said? I meant I didn’t want to come here.”

He groans, running a hand through his hair. “Just sit down.” He gestures to the empty desk right in front of him. You slide into the seat, your bag slipping to the floor as your fold your hands atop each other and gazing up at Yoongi. “You’re gonna write lines today.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Wow, lines. That’s exciting. Just so original, oh wow.”

“When you only have two days to plan two hours worth of detention, there are limited options,” Yoongi supplies, taping his piece of chalk against his chin. “So you’re gonna spend two hours writing this.” He turns back to the blackboard, bringing the chalk up to the surface and—!

I AM AN IDIOT WHO CONSTANTLY NEGLECTS MIN YOONGI’S WORD OF AUTHORITY AND HENCEFORTH, I DESERVE EVERY SINGLE PUNISHMENT THAT HAS EVER BEEN HANDED TO ME EVER.

You sigh, reaching into your bag and producing a parchment and quill. “Charming with words as ever, Min Yoongi.”

He shrugs, leaning against the desk at the front. “I try.”

The full vantage of his profile allows you to scope a good glance over his uniform for the day. Polo shirt and slacks, still no tie—but the sleeves of his shirt have been pulled up to his elbow and his teeny waist showcased in his slacks. It’s not just distracting, it’s unfair entirely.

You get through about half of your first line before you put your quill down. “So, Min Yoongi,” You start.

“Do your lines.”

You ignore him. “If you didn’t have to run my detention for the day, what plans would have awaited the great Head Boy of our beloved school?”

“None of your business,” He grumbles.

“Because I am sure someone as… compelled as you are,” You start, purposely pausing when coming up with an adjective to describe Yoongi and the one you select makes him scowl harder. “Would have no trouble conjuring up an activity on Valentine’s Day.”

“Like I said, it’s none of your business.”

“Well, there’s a lot of things that you shouldn’t stick your nose in either,” You retort. “And yet here I am, probably servicing my one hundredth detention because you read my personal notes.”

“You were passing notes in class!”

“Passing personal notes in class,” You emphasis. “And it’s none of your business and yet I still had my privacy invaded so that excuse does not work on me, Min Yoongi.” You push yourself off the desk despite Yoongi’s noise of protest. “I couldn’t help but notice that you didn’t protest much or if at all to Professor McGonagall assigning you to watch over me for detention.”

“So?”

“So, is that because you don’t have any plans at all for Valentine’s Day?” You’re standing right in front of him now.

“Miss. Y/N, if I were you, I’d shut my mouth and write my lines.”

His defensive nature makes you quirk the corner of your lips. “Oh my god.” You’re grinning now. “Did you not have anyone to celebrate with?”

Yoongi’s gradually stiffening frame as you on the brick of laughter. “Shut up.”

“Not even a crush? No one to spare a confession for? That’s kind of sad.”

“Oh like you’re so high and mighty about this—do you have someone to celebrate with?”

“No,” You reply with a shrug. “And I don’t care too much. You care though, don’t you?”

“I don’t,” He retorts, but it’s a weak argument and you can hear the waver in his tone.

“You do like someone, don’t you?” You inquire, smirking a little. “What is that like? What is the girl like? Why won’t you say anything to her, Min Yoongi? You may be emotionally constipated but you should know how to process constipation by now right? Seven years and no girlfriend; doesn’t that bother you in the slightest? Why waste time with me when you could—!”

The rest seems like such a blur, because you are interrupted when Yoongi darts forward, one hand around your waist and the other curling fingers around the back of your neck, before he is kissing you. Your lower back hits the edge of the desk, a pain that you don’t register anymore as you find yourself completely distracted by the feel of his lips—which are a lot softer than you thought they would have been. Immediately, the sensation feels as if it has springboarded you through the galaxy above, his lips moving against yours and dragging out these whimpers that sound from the back of your throat.

Suddenly, it feels like you can’t get enough of him as your nails dig into his arms, his shoulder blade. His anger seems to subside the longer he kisses you, going from using his teeth to soothing the burn from his tongue, a gesture that sends a shiver up your spine.

The hand at your back finds its way under the material of your polo shirt, his thumb rubbing softly at the skin of your back as the pair of you separate. Your lungs feel like they’re about to burst, so the frantic beating of your heartbeat means you don’t think twice about resting your forehead against Yoongi’s. “Do you do that to all the girls who yell at you?”

Yoongi sighs like he’s waited years for this. “Just the ones whose attention I feel like I would lose unless I granted her with detention every two point five seconds.”

“So you aren’t entirely a stick in the mud,” You observe, almost losing your train of thought with the way Yoongi is tracing patterns into your back again. “You did have plans for Valentine’s Day.”

“Well, it was more along the lines of how I had plans to find you after your detention and get another fight out of you,” Yoongi starts, corner of his lips turning up into a meek smile. “So this is obviously a step up.”

“Aw,” You coo. “You really are emotionally constipated—I’m sure there would have been much better ways of expressing your emotions.”

He shrugs. “Just for the girl who was about to write sixty lines about how much of an idiot she is.”

“For your information, I only got through half of a line. What if I don’t want to write sixty?” You challenge, lifting your chin slightly towards him.

Yoongi hums, readjusting his hold around your waist so his nails are digging into your bare skin. You are too high on possibility to notice the potential bruising. “I’ll convince you,” He whispers, lowering himself closer and closer until he seals his lips with yours. A promise, and a challenge—as it always should be.

[mobius-prime]

209. Sonic the Hedgehog #141

Return to Angel Island (Part 4): Ultimate Hero

Writer: Karl Bollers Pencils: Jon Gray Colors: Jason Jensen

So things are… bad. Hunter is back and has a shiny new weapon to boot, which appears to vaporize anyone in his path. Sonic gives Knuckles a ride back to the echidna refugee camp at high speed, with Knuckles still doubting his ability to even be able to help without his Chaos powers, while the refugees flee Hunter's attacks. Remington tries to insist that he wants to remain behind to protect the Master Emerald at all costs, but Archimedes tries to dissuade him, instead trying to convince everyone to fall back to the emerald's chamber to defend it more directly. Finitevus isn't interested in Archimedes' pleas, but they're interrupted by the approach of Hunter.

No, Remington! I was honestly so upset by this, as Remington is one of my favorite recurring characters of the comic. Finitevus doesn't look too concerned, though… Archimedes meets Lara-Le, Wynmacher, and Saffron in the Master Emerald's chamber, informing them of the fate of the two outside, and they get ready to defend the emerald with their lives - but just as Hunter breaches the door, Sonic and Knuckles show up to help with the defense. Hunter throws some kind of fast-moving mechanical ball towards Sonic to keep him occupied and out of the way, and Knuckles charges in only to be once more overcome with agony from his proximity to the Master Emerald. Outside in the main cavern, the other heroes return from Dingo City only to be horrified at the devastation they see in the camp. Lien-Da becomes enraged, blaming Locke for "foisting the emerald" upon the Dark Legion, but Julie-Su has finally had enough and gets in her half-sister's face, yelling that she willingly chose to accept the emerald because she wanted the power it would bring her. You go, Julie-Su!

And right there we have the true reason behind all her hatred and vitriol. Of course these things always come down to daddy issues. Still, it's the first time we've ever really seen any true emotion from Lien-Da, apart from her usual scheming and power grabs, and it adds a depth to her character that she's been lacking thus far. Back in the Hidden Palace, Lara-Le rushes to Knuckles' side as he slumps to the ground, and Hunter approaches gleefully, raising his weapon for a death blow. However, a sudden pink light engulfs Knuckles, who rises into the air and begins to crackle with energy. He's overjoyed, announcing himself to the room not as Knuckles, but as… Super Knuckles! That's right, his Chaos powers have returned, and he's ready to stop Hunter's rampage, grabbing him and bursting through the roof of the palace.

Oh yeah - Knuckles straight up kills Hunter. It's one of the very few times we actually see one of the heroes of this comic intentionally end someone's life - but I think in this case, considering what kind of person he is and what he's done, killing Hunter is entirely justified for the greater good. As he descends back down to earth, the surviving echidnas all begin chanting "Avatar!" while the remaining dingoes retreat in a blind panic. Lien-Da is furious to see her hold over the refugees slipping, but Knuckles and his friends are clearly excited to see his Chaos powers return, with Archimedes revealing that he was certain that all Knuckles needed to reawaken them was to remain in close proximity to the Master Emerald long enough for it to power him back up. However, I'm actually not so on board with him regaining his powers. I really liked the dynamic of Knuckles losing the very thing that made him so special, and having to start from basics once again, learning how to fight without a superpowered edge. We've seen several different stories where Sonic lost his own super speed, but always got it back in the end - how interesting would it be to see a story where the hero never recovered their powers? And Knuckles, given his backstory, is the perfect candidate for such a plot - he never asked for his abilities, and they clearly brought him great pain and trauma as they developed. This would be an amazing direction to take his character arc, with Knuckles torn between the life he's always known, and the chance to start anew. After all, while he developed his latent Chaos powers without having a say in the matter, and despite the pain they often brought him, he did become accustomed to the effect they had on his life in a way, learning to control them to some degree and finding out more and more about why he had them. But the circumstances of his birth also ensured that he wouldn't have any real say in his own destiny, and this was always clearly troubling to him. Removing his powers for good would have put him in a fascinating position where on the one hand he would obviously be upset at losing such a great source of power, one which he's been told is his birthright, but on the other the loss of this power would leave him much freer to decide his own path from here, rejecting the path others have set out for him and discovering who "Knuckles" could be without others trying to define who he was for him. I don't know, I just think there's a huge missed opportunity here to explore more in depth who Knuckles could ultimately end up being without his Chaos powers being his most defining feature.

But alas, Knuckles has his powers back once more, and he's fulfilled the prophecy of the Ancient Walkers to boot. Eggman contacts the heroes via hologram once more, claiming that now that he knows where the Master Emerald is hidden he'll be there straightaway to steal it, but Sonic merely crushes the communicator and Locke enlists the help of the Legion once more to move the Master Emerald someplace else. Knuckles asks after Remington, but Archimedes sadly informs him that he and Finitevus were both casualties of Hunter's rampage. Lien-Da curtly tells Knuckles there's no time to mourn friends right now… and then quietly, when no one can hear her, adds "…or family." Wait, what? So, this is something that has actually been hinted at here and there for a while now, but so vaguely that one might not pick up on the hints unless they were already in the know. Remington's father is actually Kragok, which would make Lien-Da his aunt! This was never outright confirmed in any canon material until the Sonic Comic Encyclopedia many years from now, but I figured I'd go ahead and explain it right here, since, well, Remington ain't around these parts anymore. But yeah, that's why Lien-Da has always acted slightly weird around Remington. Anyway, Knuckles begins to say goodbye to his father, but Locke sharply asks him what he's intending now, seeming very upset at the idea of Knuckles leaving.

I love this. It's about freaking time we finally saw some serious conflict between Knuckles and Locke. For too long Knuckles has always dutifully followed whatever his father told him to do, but now, with a year away from the island under his belt to give him some real perspective, for the first time he's standing up for what he believes in instead of just doing whatever the Brotherhood wants, and Locke is clearly feeling threatened by this display of independence. To be fair, I can see Locke's point, as the island is clearly still quite devastated by Eggman's occupation and they could use someone like Knuckles to help them clean up, but still, I do think Knuckles has the right idea, as taking down Eggman for good seems like a better idea than just cleaning up after him - pulling up the weed by the roots, you know? Knuckles does seem quite sad as his father stalks away and vanishes through a warp ring, but he merely says his goodbyes to his mother and Wynmacher before joining Sonic and the others to head back to Knothole. For now, the day is saved, and everything seems fine and dandy - but what's this? It seems something quite disturbing is happening in Eggman's main base…

This. Is. Horrific. Say hello to the Egg Grapes, everybody, because this isn't the last time we'll be seeing them! We can see that apparently, these things have three functions: "Energy Drain," "Mind Eraser," and "Toxic Infusion," none of which are explained but all of which sound terrifying. We also get to look at some of the poor unfortunate souls trapped inside the pods. A few are just background characters from previous issues, but others are far more heartwrenching. We can see the three other surviving fire ants, minus Archimedes, meaning Archimedes is likely the last of the council now. We can also see, of course, Remington in front there, which again just makes me sad as I love Remington. However, perhaps the worst one is hidden in the back: Simon. As in, Simon, Julie-Su's adoptive father. Floren-Ca is also in there somewhere, just not shown on panel, which means that without even being aware of it, Julie-Su has now become a true orphan. It's incredibly tragic, as she'd just begun to get to know her own family after being separated from them for so long, but the island was invaded shortly afterward, and a year later, they're just… gone, being tortured to death inside one of Eggman's awful experimental devices without Julie-Su ever getting a chance to say goodbye. This is, I think, the moment where I realized just how truly terrifying comic Eggman is. Anime Eggman is hardly a threat at all, very much the type of villain who's more invested in their fights with their heroic nemesis than in actually taking over the world. And Eggman from the games, while he is genuine about his plans for world domination, has never actually committed mass murder, at least that we've seen. Sure, he's used small innocent animals as living batteries, but never actually mass tortured half the populace of an entire island just for the hell of it. This is where the comic begins to get truly dark, as we realize just what a terrifying megalomaniac we're facing here. No more silly jokes, no more half-assed villainy - Eggman is a monster, and the Freedom Fighters have to take him down for good lest he destroy the entire world.

Mobius 25 Years Later: Scenario

Writer: Ken Penders Pencils: Steven Butler Colors: Jason Jensen

Oh, but, y'know, we could also just jump forward into a boring future where everything is fine apart from reality beginning to tear itself apart. Granted, this issue's story actually has more real plot than the rest of the entries put together, though also granted, that isn't much. We're finally going to address that whole "collapse of spacetime" thing, as Knuckles leads Sonic to Rotor and Cobar's hidden laboratory to discuss the issue. Cobar is shocked that Knuckles knew the location of his lab, and Knuckles casually mentions that he likes keeping tabs on Lien-Da's favorite scientist wait excuse me what?! So all this time, Cobar has been in Lien-Da's employ, and we just never heard about it until now? Why are you so mistrustful of Lien-Da and yet totally trust the word of her favorite scientist when it comes to all this world-ending stuff? Ugh, I feel like I've spent far too much time and energy pointing out the many, many plot holes of this arc, so we're just going to move on like everything is fine. Rotor and Cobar explain the whole shebang to Sonic, while we get a short and useless scene of Julie-Su and Sally being unable to sleep and reiterating once again their worries for their husbands, and when we flip back to Sonic he's shocked to hear that he's the cause behind the acceleration of entropy on Mobius!

He tries to argue that it might have been the Dark Legion or someone else who had done a lot of zone-hopping in the past, but the two scientists insist that their experiments show that it was his fault. I really don't see how arguing over fault is going to help, especially when Sonic had literally no idea that actions he took when he was fifteen were going to someday contribute to the end of the world twenty-five years after the fact, but eh, again, we never claimed this story made any sense. Knuckles and Sonic leave, with Knuckles telling Rotor and Cobar to find a solution and fast, and as soon as they're gone a panel slides open in the wall to reveal who else but Lien-Da, who has listened in on the whole thing and is very curious about why exactly Cobar has been hiding all of this from her. Hmm, suspicious! Do you think we're finally about to get an answer about what treacherous deeds Lien-Da has been planning this whole time? Ah, c'mon, this is a Penders story, of course not!

[y-not-loki]

The Soul Thief | Loki L.

A/N: So apparently the first time I tried to post this fic, it didn’t work, so let’s go lesbians, times two. Sorry, I had to. Anyway, same gif, same shit, so pissed off right now hope you enjoy that I can’t find a gif and can’t write.

Warnings: Bit of swearing? Some violence in the beginning (opens in a battle).

Word Count: 4 554

Blurb: (Y/N) is different. She can feel it in her bones, she can see it everywhere. She can see souls. She can manipulate them. She can make them do whatever she likes. Of course, she doesn’t do it all the time, because her lack of experience makes it difficult to do if she doesn’t have a sugar rush. When she gets caught mid-battle in her hometown between the Avengers and whatever-those-things-with-the-horns-tails-and-scales­-are she ends up revealing her abilities in front of a very impressed God of Mischief and Iron Man. If only she had her phone with her now.

*DISCLAIMER: I DON’T OWN ANYTHING IN THIS BUT THE PLOT* 

(Y/N) wasn’t ashamed to admit that she did get out of the bed on the wrong side, but she was ashamed to admit that everything was going wrong. First, her favourite coffee shop was closed for employee training, then she found out that her favourite bookstore had closed down to move somewhere else, and finally, it started raining on her usual walk to work. She usually didn’t mind rain, but she was wearing her favourite jumper and jeans that day in hopes to counteract the bad luck.

But surely such bad luck wasn’t meant to land her here, was it?

Here pertained to being bodily shielded by an incredibly handsome God of Mischief, who was also incredibly dangerous.

Something about aliens?

She glanced around wildly, and her eyes flashed gold, to most it was a trick of the light, but she knew better. She could see the souls of any living creature (somehow, including plants, which was very unnerving), and holy hell did she regret it.

There were thousands of them.

Loki sneered down at her, she turned her gold eyes on him as they returned back to their normal colour before paling as she realised his attention as on her how. “You’d better hide fast, Midgardian.” He growled, and as a blue-scaled, long-tailed and horned creature galloped (?) towards him. Loki summoned twin knives, whipping his arms around, (Y/N) didn’t even see them leave his hands, but the creature fell with a dagger in its forehead and its chest.

They were vaguely horse-like. But very colourful, some blue, some red, some even golden.

Which is what made (Y/N) more scared than she already was, because in nature, the more colourful something is, the more poisonous or venomous something is (except cane toads, those ugly buggers were as dull as dirt).

Fear coursed through her veins, but she closed her hands into fists and ran for it, covering her head with her arms, but leaving her stomach bared for any one of the horned creatures to lower its head and charge at her unprotected torso.

Which is exactly what a red one did.

She had enough time to feel properly terrified, her knees shaking, and her arms flew down to cover herself, but she knew she wouldn’t be fast enough.

It was less than a metre away when it keeled over and died, its soul disappearing before her golden eyes, the adrenaline and the fight around her making her abilities spike.

“Kid, are you alright?” Iron Man descended from the sky, lowering a hand, which still glowed slightly from shooting the creature down.

If only she had her phone now, but alas, it was left back at her apartment. Another thing to add to her bad luck.

“M-Mostly.” (Y/N) stuttered, unused to being spoken to by two Avengers within twenty-four hours.

“Good, now duck.” Tony ordered, and (Y/N) ducked immediately, and she heard him release two or three mini missiles behind her, and she felt two souls fizzle out, her heart ready to pump out of her chest.

She looked back up to see a two smoking craters with vaguely monster-shaped shadows in them, and turned back to see another one run up behind Iron Man.

No one was looking.

Loki was preoccupied.

Iron Man was busy with the ones behind her.

No one would know.

“Behind you.” She ground out, gritting her teeth, and her arms shot out, her eyes a glaring gold now, bright like headlights and her pupils turned into vertical slits as her blood glowed a beautiful golden colour, and a brightly coloured orb flew into her hands as the monster behind Iron Man stumbled and died as she held its soul in her hands.

“What is that?” Iron Man asked bluntly, and (Y/N) turned pink as she held the soul sheepishly, throwing it into the ground as her blood returned to normal and her knees gave out from the stress.

“Just a little talent.” (Y/N) replied dazedly, giggling as tingles swept over her body and a shiver went up her spine. She always got high on the rush of energy that came with using her abilities, but it wasn’t an energy that was useful, so she refrained from doing it again.

“Do you think you can do it a few other times?” Iron Man asked, landing on the floor with a dull thud as Loki’s face appeared in her vision on the other side.

“Do you really think, that the petty Midgardian in this state, would be able to do something so taxing again, Stark? She’s obviously too weak.” Loki snapped, and (Y/N) swore she saw two of him, one ran off, throwing daggers, and the other placed a cool hand on her forehead.

It felt nice.

But his words did not.

The words made her just a tiny bit mad that Loki would assume that it only would only take one use of her ability to bring her down.

She was not going to let him think that; she wasn’t going to let anyone think that. Jumping up, she glared at Loki, who just raised an eyebrow, before raising her arms in front of her as her eyes turned gold.

“Too weak? Watch me prove you wrong.” This was not going to work. The thought raced across her mind, pulling a few others along. You’re never going to get your paycheque at this rate. You literally just showed superheroes your ability. You’ve only ever done this to one other person. HOW THE HELL ARE YOU MEANT TO DO IT TO MORE THAN A THOUSAND CREATURES?! Well, thankfully about a hundred had been defeated by the Avengers and police alone, and she was pretty happy to admit that hurtful words broke a dam in her, she could feel her power coursing through her blood vessels a thousand times stronger.

This would be easy.

She opened her closed eyes (when did they close?) and everything was dark, she could only see the souls. The monster souls looked different, they flowed through their bodies differently, instead of hovering in the chest and head, they flowed through every part of their body. She quickly pulled each of the monsters’ souls to her, and let them flow around her body.

One by one, she grabbed nearly a thousand souls.

Her vision returned to almost normal, except she could still see the souls swirling around her like a whirlwind.

Thank goodness she was hovering, because the migraine that came with doing that amount of soul manipulating would probably last for days, and although she had a vague idea that she was actually pulling her own soul upwards and using the monster souls to elevate her as well, but she really didn’t care.

Her voice sounded distant, ethereal and dark at the same time. “Who’s the weak one now?” She hissed at Loki, who looked slightly amused, but quite definitely astonished along with a Tony Stark who had taken his helmet off.

She thrust her arms downwards, and the souls flew into the ground as she collapsed, the second last thing she saw was the Avengers running around the corner before the darkness clouded her vision.

The last thing she saw was a worried Loki hovering over her.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. TURN THE INFERNAL BEEPING NOISE OFF YOU IDIOT. (Y/N)’s hand flopped around, trying to find the alarm clock, then the scent hit her.

Hospital room. She bolted up, eyes wide. Oh shit. What did I do this time?

“Calm down, little Midgardian.” The smooth voice of Loki penetrated the cloud of panic that had descended over her mind.

“I’m not little.” (Y/N) retorted, absently but (somehow) still angrily. She was glancing around, slightly queasy and self-conscious. She shouldn’t be in the hospital…. Should she?

Recent memories told her that she should probably be in the hospital after the stupid stunt she decided to pull.

Why did I do that? She flopped back over and closed her eyes.

“Don’t go back to sleep, mortal!” Loki shook her awake, panic clearly in his voice and his eyes were wide and blood-shot.

“What, you want to apologise for getting me into this situation?” (Y/N) told him coldly and he pursed his lips.

“Why should I apologise?”

“Well, for one, there were thousands of those creatures, so you’d probably die of exhaustion if you hadn’t already died of the monsters, and two, you’re the reason I’m still alive, and therefore in this hell. Oh yeah, and your goaded me into doing that stupid move that I have never even attempted before in my life.”

“I am a seasoned warrior of Asgard, I would have long out-lasted those hideous abominations. And it may be true that I am the reason that you are still alive and in this situation, but I was ordered to save the Midgardians. Although I’m starting to doubt you are a Midgardian. But it’s definitely not my fault you have very delicate pride and feel the need to defend it.”

(Y/N) groaned. “This is the worst day ever.”

“Reindeer Games giving you a headache, kiddo?” Tony waltzed into the room, as if he owned the place (which he probably did).

“More like a migraine.” (Y/N) shot him a glare, and he raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

“Well he hasn’t left your side since you fell unconscious, so I wouldn’t be surprised if you were annoyed by his very presence.”

“Ah, that explains the disgusting scent permeating from him. And honestly, why would he stay by my side? I’m just a petty little weak Midgardian.” (Y/N) took the opportunity to jab at Loki’s pride, and he frowned.

“I guess as I have been displayed as unwanted, I shall take my leave now. And maybe clean myself.”

“Good riddance.” (Y/N) glanced up at him and was surprised to see he was slightly hurt, and rolled her eyes, letting her mouth twitch up in a smirk to let him know she was joking. He looked almost openly relieved, but still kept up the façade that he was hurt.

“Wow, you seem to hate Loki quite a lot. Possibly more than Legolas.” Tony sat down where Loki had been previously sitting.

“Not really, I just don’t like the idea of being a useless pet that can’t fight for themselves. Loki happened to be there when I was pretty useless and he pointed it out as well, so I didn’t appreciate that.”

“What is your ability, anyway?” Tony asked, glancing at the monitor that currently showed her heartrate, which had spiked as soon as Loki left.

“Well…” (Y/N) glanced at her hands and her eyes flickered gold again. “I can see souls and manipulate them. It’s not much, but it’s saved my life once, now three times, so I guess it’s a good thing.”

“You can manipulate souls. Without any outside force. And you can see souls. Your eyes changes to gold when you use your ability. You realise that makes absolutely no sense?” Tony said bluntly, and (Y/N) rolled her eyes good-naturedly.

“I didn’t expect a scientist, let alone a mechanic, understand the delicacies of removing souls. Hell, I could swap your soul for Loki’s right this instant. It wouldn’t be as taxing as actually having to hold a soul in one place, because they need to move, they need to flow and control, think and react. They are what makes you, you. Your brain gives you knowledge and your soul gives you personality and morals.”

“In English please.”

(Y/N) sighed. “Your brain is the hard drive that is already built in, and your soul is the USB. You put the USB into the computer so you have something to do, but you already have the basic information you need in your brain, which is the internet. Your soul gives you purpose and it gives you all your unique flaws and perfections, your hard drive, or body and brain, starts out similar to that of everyone else. Is that English enough?”

“Yeah.” Tony sat in quiet contemplation as (Y/N) burrowed underneath the covers, if she was to be stuck in here for a while, she might as well get comfortable. “What do you say to being an Avenger, kid?”

“I’m not a kid.” (Y/N) responded, voice muffled as only her eyes peaked out.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“It depends on what you mean by being an Avenger. Being a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent or a toy for S.H.I.E.L.D. to play with? No. Being my own person, but still helping others with my abilities… sure.” (Y/N) said, flipping over and laying on her stomach, although it took some manoeuvring because of the IV drip in her hand.

Still didn’t know why she needed an IV drip thing attached to her, all that happened was fainting.

“You were out for nearly a week.” Tony said absentmindedly, and (Y/N) panicked quietly on the inside. Maybe it showed on her face too. Maybe. But Tony was quick to assure her, “Don’t worry, you’re in capable hands here, and we’ve taken the liberty of searching you up and cancelling all your plans for the past week and next week for your recovery.” (Y/N) sighed in relief and settled back down into the (surprisingly) soft hospital bed.

“So where exactly am I? A local hospital or a specialised one for the Avengers?”

“Well, right now, you’re at the Avengers base, and this is simply the infirmary, Bruce is next door monitoring your vitals and your current state.”

“Can I get out of here yet? When can I leave?” (Y/N) asked, and Tony shook his head.

He fingered at the edge of the blanket, which was halfway over his lap, “I’m not too sure, you’re going to have to ask Bruce. I’ll tell him to come in here and let you know when you can leave. Also, welcome to the team. Only around three people here answer to S.H.I.E.L.D., and that’s because of either spy-work or patriotism.” Tony rolled his eyes, stood up and held out his hand. (Y/N) took his hand slowly, but gave it a firm shake, causing Tony to smirk down at her, before whirling and leaving the room.

Too much socialising. (Y/N) thought to herself, shaking her head, but only managing to summon a headache from the depths of Tartarus.

A few torturous seconds later of the infernal beeping noise and a painful headache, Bruce stepped into the room. Then Loki stepped in. It gave her a moment to actually take in his size, he stood maybe half a head taller than Bruce, and although Bruce was hunched over a clipboard, and his head was bowed over at a 45-degree angle, he was still obviously taller. Not to mention, he didn’t share the same wider build of Captain America or Thor, instead he was lean with muscle that his leather battle armour didn’t hide at all.

He narrowed his eyes at her assessing overview of his body, but ignored her, instead standing next to the door and crossing his arms like a petulant child.

“Hello Miss (Y/L/N), I’m Dr Banner. As far as I know, you’re nearly healed and you’re allowed to start moving around in about half an hour, when your withdrawal symptoms from the drugs we gave you disappear. Don’t worry, they were simply to make you fall asleep. For a week. Anyway, Loki volunteered to show you around, but you can come by the labs and infirmary any time if you have any questions for me or Tony.” Dr Banner half-stuttered over his clipboard and then glanced up at her, biting at his lip. “Also, I’m sorry if you get caught in the prank war that is currently wreaking havoc over half the Avengers.” With that, he shuffled out of the room, nodding to Loki, who didn’t spare him a glance, as he exited.

“So tell me, how did you, a mere mortal, take down thousands of grindelgrawps?”

“So tell me, how did you, a powerful god, manage to get stuck here on this pathetic excuse of a world, helping civilians and saving the world?” (Y/N) turned the question around on him, stating it as if he were speaking it. He would call himself a powerful god, and he would call Earth – no, Midgard – a pathetic excuse of a world. He was easy enough to read what he might say, but not easy enough read what he might do.

Which is why (Y/N) was surprised when he took two long strides and sat himself down on the chair he had lived in for the past week (according to Tony).

“Tell me.” He demanded, posture stiff and his face carefully wiped blank.

“Not with that attitude.” (Y/N) scolded him. mimicking his posture and his facial expressions, overdoing it on a comical level, and Loki cracked a small smile. Small enough to not be noticeable unless you were really looking. And (Y/N) was really looking. At those perfect lips. Oh gods, what drugs did they pump her up with?

“Fine, will you please tell me what your ability is?”

“Soul manipulation.” (Y/N) replied simply, eyes flashing gold, then her head pounded particularly painfully and she grimaced.

Loki placed a cool hand on her forehead and she sighed as the ache died down to a dull throb that only appeared when she moved around. “Did the Man of Iron talk to you about joining their stupid club?”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes and nodded slightly. “Yeah, I said I’d be happy to join as long as it’s only helping civilians. I don’t want to hurt anyone.” She mumbled, eyes gold as she watched Loki. His soul was colourful. Surprisingly so, most people usually had a base colour lined with a secondary or tertiary colour. Loki was mainly green, pale blue, black, purple, red and a dark, dark blue. Green for creativity, pale blue for loyalty, black for chaos or fear, purple for royalty and pride, red for pain or anger, and dark, dark blue had never appeared for her. Knowing him, it could mean anything.

“What do you see?” He asked softly, almost instantly knowing what she was doing. He didn’t seem offended or scared that she was literally looking at what he was, but rather, a more curious expression hid his emotions.

“Sorry, that was incredibly rude of me.” (Y/N)’s automated response came out. Sometimes her abilities just… activated without her control, and it had happened multiple times. Everyone in her neighbourhood was very understanding, although they were also incredibly wary of her abilities.

“Tell me what you see and you’ll be forgiven.” Loki smirked, and (Y/N) rolled her eyes.

“How about I show you?” (Y/N) looked him in the eyes, and saw a swirl of colour behind them, yellow rose out of nowhere. Hope.

“As long as you don’t kill me.” Loki said nonchalantly. (Y/N) sighed. Thor said he had a habit of dying then returning. It didn’t surprise her that he was trying to reinforce the idea that she couldn’t kill him.

Her closest hand, her right hand, floated up and in front of his eyes. Focussing on the pulses of her soul inside her body, she pushed it into her hand, and Loki’s soul responded accordingly. Loki’s soul came up to her hand, trying to contact her own soul, and Loki gave a quiet gasp.

“Well, that is a dizzying experience.” He muttered. It was. It was as if your mind had just left your body.

“I’m assuming you know what the colours are?”

Loki nodded slightly, there was a miniature version of his soul between (Y/N)’s hand and Loki’s forehead, as she couldn’t remove Loki’s entire soul without his body going unconscious.

“Well, I didn’t expect it to be that dark.” Loki muttered, his hand reached up to try and touch it, and touch it he did, it got absorbed back into his fingertips and the colours raced along his blood vessels, before disappearing halfway up his arm. Loki looked back into (Y/N)’s eyes, and it suddenly felt very awkward. Or at least for (Y/N). “You are an interesting mortal.” He stated, then went to stand up, but (Y/N)’s hand on his forearm stopped him. “Why are you stopping me now, I thought you disliked my presence.”

“Not… no I don’t truly dislike your presence. But please stay.” (Y/N) tried her puppy dog eyes (which always worked on her friends) on him, and he sighed.

Sitting down, he stared at her until she looked away blushing. When she glanced back her heart rate spiked with the smirk that lay on his lips. His eyes glanced towards the heart rate monitor, and leaned down. “Let’s see if we can get your hear to go fast enough for the monster to come in.” Eyes flickering to (Y/N)’s lips, Loki smirked as she watched him warily.

“If you’re up for it, I’m up 100% up for it, I mean, I’ve always wanted to see-” (Y/N)’s ramblings were cut short by Loki’s soft, cold lips touching hers. Just a brief brush. Her heart rate still spiked. Glancing over at the door in sync, (Y/N) and Loki smirked, before exploring just how much (Y/N) could do before Banner came rushing in.

It turns out quite a lot. Loki holding her hand and kissing, thumb making small circles on the back of her hand and callouses fitting together from his many years of knife practice.

It got to the point where it felt like (Y/N)’s heart was in her throat as Loki pressed his lips against hers more insistently, lips moving hers slightly apart. She didn’t expect tongue, but woah, there was tongue. He started exploring her mouth hesitantly, but after (Y/N) seemed to give in, heart racing faster than normal, he got more insistent and-

“WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?” Bruce shouted from the doorway, hair messed up, glasses askew and looking a little green at the base of his neck. “I see that (Y/N)’s heart rate is off the charts and come in to see you guys making out!” He shook his head in a disapproving manner, before coming over and unclipping the little pulse detector from her finger and pulling the IV drip out gently, before placing a little cotton ball with masking tape over the small wound. “I guess this proves that you’re perfectly fine and should probably get out of the infirmary before the other guy decides to make a surprise appearance.”

Loki paled behind him, but said nothing. (Y/N) smirked, and then looked innocently at Bruce. “So, do you know the sleeping arrangements? I’ll have to let my roommate know that I probably won’t be coming back.”

Bruce shook his head, eyes cast downwards as he muttered a response. “I don’t know anything about where you’re staying, you’re going to have to ask Tony.”

“I know where she will be staying. Stark told me when we passed in the hallway earlier.” Loki paused for a second, tilting his head slightly as a mischievous smile came across his face. “Or at least, I picked it out of his mind as we passed.”

Bruce shook his head in an exasperated manner before leaving the room quietly. Swinging her legs over the edge of the bed, (Y/N) looked down to see that she was in a hospital gown with a clean bra and clean underwear. Surprising and unnerving, but overall more comfortable.

“So, shall I escort you to your room?” Loki smirked holding out a hand, and (Y/N) rolled her eyes and bypassed his hand.

“Sure, without any silly shenanigans, not feeling up for mischief today.”

“Today.” Loki echoed and (Y/N) gave him a cheeky grin. Loki led the way to her room, and she found everything she owned there. Which was also surprising and unnerving, but overall more comfortable, because it meant she felt at least a little at home and didn’t have to go through the hassle of moving everything herself. Tony must have anticipated that she was going to choose to stay instead of leave them.

“Will my lady allow me to enter her chambers?” Loki’s eyes glinted with mischief and his face sported a smile that meant no good. She nodded.

Loki rushed at her, picking her up and pressing her against the wall, mouth centimetres away from hers. “Do you have any idea how much I’ve wanted this? Ever since I lay my eyes on you a week ago, saving Stark with your golden eyes and glowing hands. Ever since I had you underneath me, under my protection with your glowing fearful eyes. You were what your kind calls an angel.”

(Y/N) mustered all the snark and sarcasm as she could, hoping to counter Loki’s sweet words. “Well then, why’d you insult me. You hurt my pride, my king.” She smirked at the end mockingly, and his eyes darkened before he quickly dropped his head into the crook of her neck.

“When you know you’re likely to never see such beauty again, you become frustrated and angered at the fact that you know you’ll never see them again.” Loki murmured into her neck. Kissing her neck gently, he held her there for a second as she ran her fingers through his hair. “By the way, you tend to grab and cuddle things in your sleep.” He pulled away, putting her down gently and smirking cheekily.

(Y/N) looked horrified. “I do what in my sleep?”

“Well, you tended to steal my arm when I was resting it on the side of your bed, but I didn’t mind.” Loki laughed (Y/N)’s embarrassed expression. “Don’t worry, nothing funny happened, you just liked holding onto my arm. That was partially the reason why didn’t – couldn’t – leave your side. Banner suggested we simply create a superficial arm, but I liked your little quirk.” (Y/N) blushed and punched him lightly in the arm.

“Well, I guess I owe you for staying by my side, Trickster god.” (Y/N) shook her head at the ridiculousness. “Honestly, you could have left a clone and gone and taken care of yourself.”

Loki shrugged and grinned. “That’s actually what I would have done, except you woke up almost as soon as you let go for the first time.”

“You plan on sticking around and helping me put my stuff away?” She quirked an eyebrow and he mimicked her expression, waving a hand without looking and her stuff disappeared.

She gasped and hurried around the room, checking everywhere to make sure it was all in the right place.

“You bastard, how did you know that?” She growled, amusement glinting in her eyes, but her face serious.

“Eh, pulled it out of your mind when I had you against the wall.” He said nonchalantly, before laying on the bed as if he owned the place.

(Y/N) felt a blush creeping up her neck and sighed, shaking her head. “Cheeky idiot.”

“Your cheeky idiot.” Loki corrected as she lay down beside him on the bed, kissing the top of her head. She buried her face in his chest and said nothing.

The rest of the day was spent checking out the room and exploring everything. Everything = her room and the rest of the Tower thanks to Loki’s teleportation (despite the device attached to his wrists).

With a side of making out and getting to know one another.