#''if you deem that twenty years' banishment is enough''

[enbeemagical]

I really love The Magic Thief because Conn is such an enticing protagonist (all sassy and snarky but 90% of it is his internal narration, not spoken aloud, he observes so much, and he's clever!) and also because Nevery, despite his seeming aloofness and the *gestures* crotchety old wizard vibes of him, he's JUST as chaotic as Conn

[extravaguk]

sex education 2.0

pairing: college!au, jungkook x reader

summary: "Are you calling me boring?" Jungkook gasps dramatically, looking at you dumbfounded and visibly offended. You roll your eyes, taking a napkin and leaning forward to wipe the crumbs of garlic bread on his lips.

"First of all, don't talk with your mouth full, you pig. Second of all," you stop to take a sip of your coke, aware of Jungkook's expectant eyes on you. "A little, yeah." 

wordcount: 9k

genre: smut - angst(? not rlly - fluff, like tons bc im a slut for fluff

rated: m (duh!2.0)

warnings: alcohol and weed consumption, just jk and tae being bros having bro convos, switch!reader, switch!jk, but mostly dom!jk, dirty talk, glimpses of poorly written bdsm, reader being a jealous and ‘insecure little bitch’ (her words, not mine),slapping (dont worry i tried to make it funny), how i met your mother spoilers (sorry im a gemini i spoil shit), spanking, degradation kink, back at it again with the spit kink, slight anal play, beware!of jungkook being a sweetheart, a lil mean at the end but a sweetheart nontheless.

read sex education here!

Three months of being in an actual commitment with Jeon Jungkook, your brother's partner in crime since the young age of five and, therefore, a common denominator throughout your childhood and teenage years, has proven to you a few things you never knew you would discover about the boy himself: Jeon Jungkook is definitely not what you thought him to be. 

You thought growing up with him would've been enough telltale about everything that made Jungkook be, well, Jungkook. He wasn't as immature as you had believed prior to the beginning of your relationship, he was funnier than you remembered -although maybe you found him funnier now that Taehyung wasn't in the picture to interfere with infantile inside jokes that you never were able to grasp-, and smarter than he had ever let you known before. Although you're sure the main reason his grades had started to improve was solely you and the way you rewarded him by opening your legs everytime he passed an exam. 

But above all, if there was something that had truly surprised you about Jeon Jungkook was the fact that he was truly an absolutely and undeniably softie.  

You loved it. Loved the random scribbled love notes he sometimes left in your backpack before kissing you goodbye to leave for his own class, loved the Spotify playlists he made exclusively just for you -with genres that varied between sappy and romantic and wanting to tear your 'wet ass pussy' in two-, loved the late night texts filled with emojis telling you how much he missed you when both of you were too busy doing assignments and studying to see each other -even if it hadn't even been 48 hours since you last saw each other-. You loved how careful and sweet and thoughtful he was. You really did. 

But.

"Are you calling me boring?" Jungkook gasps dramatically, looking at you dumbfounded and visibly offended. You roll your eyes, taking a napkin and leaning forward to wipe the crumbs of garlic bread on his lips.

"First of all, don't talk with your mouth full, you pig. Second of all," you stop to take a sip of your coke, aware of Jungkook's expectant eyes on you. "A little, yeah." His mouth falls open and you supress a laugh. You really shouldn't be enjoying this so much, but there's something about Jungkook's reaction to his ego being bruised and that terribly adorable pout on his face that just makes your insides tingle with joy. 

"What do you mean? I've had plenty of girls in bed before you, like a whole lot, and none of them have ever called me boring! They loved this adventurous and fun dick, alright? Why do you think-" you raise a brow, scrutinizingly. It still amazes you how with just a simple expression and no words needed, you can make all color from Jungkook's face banish and how quick he is to reach for your hand across his bed. "But I only love youuuu, and you're the best thing that has ever happened to me and my dick like, baby, have I mentioned how head over heels I'm for you?"

"Only like five times today." rolling your eyes again, you pull your hand from his to toy with the peperoni piece on your slice of pizza. Jungkook swallows the lump in his throat, he was starting to get truly concerned now. You couldn't possibly...?

"Are you not satisfied? I mean, do I not make you feel good or...?" there's clear worry in his voice and that makes you meet his eyes, shaking your head hurriedly. Now it's you who take his hand in yours.  

"No! No, babe. I love sex with you! I love everything you do to me, I love how you treat me, I love how you make me feel. I'm a hundred percent satisfied, I swear, It's just..." you sigh, dropping your gaze to rub slow and reassuring circles to the ink adorning his skin. "All I'm saying is... I may also want to experience what all those girls have experienced with you, y'know... the not so vanilla stuff. But you always seem to be scared to try new things with me, and I don't know if it's because of m-"

"Baby," Jungkooks soft voice calls out to you, removing the pizza box in between the two of you to slide closer to you on the mattress. He craddles your face with his fingers, tilting your chin up to make eye contact with you. "_____, don't say that. I just don't ever want to cross any boundaries. I don't want to hurt you or do anything you might not like or regret later, you know that, right?" placing a small kiss on your lips, you hum in content nodding your head yes.

"I know that." you pull him for another brief kiss, oddly not caring about the faint taste of garlic and spice on them because that's what love will do to you. "But what if I do want you to hurt me? What if I want you to fuck my mouth with no mercy until I cry and slap my face after you've cum all over it while you call me a slut?" you pause, eyes meeting his through your eyelashes. "Or viceversa."

It's not that Jungkook is afraid. Because Jungkook is afraid of nothing in this world. He will murder any spider in his way, he will throw a punch to anyone who denies mint chocolate ice cream as the superior ice cream flavour -and he knows that means he will have to literally fight like the entire population on planet earth-, and he will Rey Mysterio you if you ever discredit or deny his incredible skills playing Overwatch.

Jeon Jungkook prides himself in being fearless in every aspect of his life. Except when it comes to you. 

So yeah, maybe he was a little afraid. Because hearing you use the words 'choke', 'slap' and 'slut' in the same sentence did things to him that he didn't deem possible considering none of you were newbies anymore to intimicy. You have been together for three months, for God's sake, but you still made his cock twitch like the first day and he's sure in twenty years you'll have the exact same effect on him.

He didn't want his most primal instincts to overpower the respect and love he'd harboured for you since you were kids because at the end of the day, one, you were still his best friend's little sister, two, he appreciated you too much to ever cross any lines, and three, as cliché as it sounded, you were nothing compared to the girls he had been with previously. What he feels towards you cannot be compared to anything he had experienced before. 

And fuck, was he in a predicament. Because you made him weak in his knees for you and you were not even aware of it. You were not aware of how badly he has wanted to explore and take things way further, way out of both his and your comfort zones. But he's terrified. He's terrified because all he wants is to to take care of you and what if he fails at the one thing he's swore to himself? What if he lets the darkest side of him consume him and at the same time consume you? What if he does actually hurt you, not just psichologically but also physically?

He would never be able to forgive himself. And neither could Taehyung.

And that, was also tormenting him.

Taehyung seemed fine with the two of you dating -or at least that blow to Jungkook's face seemed to ease things between them-, but Jungkook is not dumb and has felt his best friend slowly distancing himself. 

Sure, they were still best friends and will ever will. Taehyung is loyal to Jungkook and Jungkook is loyal to Taehyung. Has been that way since they were five and that will not change just because Jungkook's caught feelings for his little sister.

But the phonecalls were not as often and not as long as they used to be; in rare occasions Jungkook could sense a certain type of awkwardness between them that really had never happened in their friendship, and sometimes Taehyung's jokes seemed to hold more truth than lightheartedness. 

And to top it all off, Jungkook's dilemma regarding you was eating him alive and, usually he would turn to Taehyung for girl advice, only to later realize he was also frightened of doing that. 

But a Friday night at 2 a.m, Jungkook decides he can't take it anymore. 

"Sup, man." Taehyung's voice answers Jungkook's phone call on the second ring, like he always does. 

"Hey, bro." Jungkook clears his voice, suddenly feeling self conscious. "Are you busy?"

"I don't know," his friend seems to be chewing on what Jungkook bets is red Skittles -yes, only the red ones- because he just knows him too well. "Are you busy still fucking my little sister?" 

Taehyung chuckles at his own joke, but Jungkook doesn't. He knows there's no malice, but he can't help to think there might be. He settles for a sigh. "Yeah." he can hear some shuffling on the other side and the clicking of a computer mouse. Jungkook would also bet he was playing Among Us and he would lie if he said he wasn’t disappointed he hadn't called him to play with him. "Y'know what, it's not even important, I'll just call y-"

"Come on, man. You haven't even laughed at that and you usually laugh at everything I say even when no one else does." Taehyung swirls in his chair, his attention fully focused on his best friend. "Seriously, what's bothering you." Jungkook takes a deep breath, rubbing the side of his face. 

"It's about _____."

"_____? As in, my little sister? Who you're fucking?"  

"Tae, dude-"

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry. Go on." Taehyung stiffles a laugh and waits patiently for Jungkook to continue.

"She um... Fuck, I hope this isn't weird, dude. I really do. She wants to like... rough it up in the bedroom, I guess? And I just... I don’t know... I'm terrified dude." There's silence filling the gap between Taehyung and Jungkook and Jungkook almost feels like throwing up. 

"You're coming to me for sex advice... about my little sister?"

"I know, dude but... Who else I'm supossed to talk to? Jimin? Hoseok?" Jungkook sits up on his bed, an ugly knot beginning to form in his stomach. "I mean, you're my best friend," Jungkook swallows again, voice cracking. "...right?"

It's Taehyung's turn to sigh after a few seconds before he replies. "Forever and always, bro." His tone settles Jungkook's uneasiness. There's nothing but honesty in it. "Listen, Guk. I really don't know what kind of advice to give you because, literally, ew. But I do know my sister, and if that's what she wants and she's communicated with you about it, it’s because she trusts you. And I trust you more than anyone in my life. So there you go, man."

Relief washes all over Jungkook's body and he lays back on the bed again, heart not beating as hard as it was a few seconds ago. 

"Thanks, dude." Jungkook smiles. "Sorry for calling you so late."

"No problem, bro." Taehyung smiles as well, swirling his chair back to his computer screen. A weight of his own being lifted. "Among Us next time?"

"Yeah, I'll let you know. Good night, bro."  

Taehyung calls Jungkook's name before he can hang up. "Hey, man?"

"Yeah, man?"

There's a pause between them and then Taehyung speaks. "I love you, man."

Jungkook supresses the threat of tears about to spill because he knows Taehyung would try to bruise his other other eyebrow if he ever found out. Or hug him to death. Or both.

"I love you too, bro."

"This reminds me of the first time you gave me a blowjob." Jungkook chuckles, watching you get down on your knees between his spread thighs, make up free and sporting a similar low messy bun as that time he's mentioning, except this time you're wearing one of his hoodies engulfing your smaller frame. Proof that this time around, you're exclusively his and no one else’s.

"You mean the blowjob of your life." you giggle as you reach out to pull down his sweatpants, deligthed to see he decided on not wearing any underwear. Your spit on the back of your hand and immediately wrap it around the base of his rock hard cock while his own darts out to push the strands falling down your face behind your ear, heart eyes emoji looking down at you looking up at him. 

Your tongue swirls around the tip timidly, swallowing the drop of precum oozing as he sighs heavily and lovingly. "Every blowjob you give me is the blowjob of my life." he unties your hair from the band holding it together because he prefers his fingers to be the hair tie, prefers to be the one to guide the bobbing of your head up and down his dick. 

You hum in appreciation against him, cherry balmed lips wrapping fully around the head of his cock and he hums back. "Love seeing you on your knees for me with your pretty mouth stuffed, fuck." You take him deeper, closing your eyes. 

Your hand moving accordingly to your mouth and your panties already wet, clinging to your folds. It's really not your fault Jungkook is the most delicious eye candy on earth and how fast can the mere sight of him make your pussy lips quiver. You slurp around the head obscenely , a moan of yours mixing with a moan of his. "Hands on your back." 

You obligue, removing your hands and growing excited at the dominating low tone his voice exerts. The grip he has on your hair tightens and controls your motions, pushing you further down his dripping shaft until your nose hits his pubic bone. He holds you there, his own eyes closing shut and his dick twitching insde your mouth. A thrust of his hips make you gag and has one of your hands flying to tap his leg two times, letting him know you were in need for air. 

He releases you, pulling you back until his cock is pulsating in front of you. He looks down at you, both breathless but the difference is you look so messy. Eyes watery, chest moving heavily and saliva leaking from your lips. 

Yeah, there was a reason Jungkook hasn't been like this with you before. The sight of you submitting completely and looking so nasty was too much for him to handle. He might never want to see you any other way than this. 

"Isn't this what you wanted, huh?" the free hand that had been supporting his weight on the matress grasps your face harshly, making you lock eyes with him.

 "I thought you wanted me to choke you with my cock like a little whore?" you nod your head eagerly, unable to form words. Your pussy throbs, prompting you to rub your thighs to get some sort of relief as his thumb smears the spit adorning your lips. You're quick to envelop it in the warmth of your mouth, an involuntary moan leaving your throat. "Such a pretty slut," he lets his cock slap against your cheek, removing his thumb to move his hand back to his previous position. "Open again."

You do, his length entering your mouth again -that you gladly accept- and then he's shoving you down by your hair. "Shit, gonna fuck your mouth so good..." 

And he does, not holding back anymore, his hand thrusting your head along his shaft until your throat tightens around him repeteadly, struggling for breath. But you take it, you take the aggresiveness and the degradation because fuck, you've been waiting for so long to know what this feels like. To have Jungkook be mean and have this type of control and power over you and you're enjoying it a bit too much. 

"F-fuck, I'm gonna cum, leave your mouth open." he releases on your tongue, not able to look away from the image of you with tears falling down your eyes and mouth drenched with him and your spit, some of his cum staining down your chin and the corners of your lips that he gathers with his thumb and pushes back into your mouth. He groans, watching you swallow all of it like a good girl, your tongue grazing around his digit for the remainings, gaze not leaving his. "Let me grab my phone real quick, I need to take a picture of this."

You were definitely not the jealous type.  

You prided yourself on being able to recognize when your behaviours were due to your own insecurities and removing all sorts of feelings of uncertainty from your mind. You never liked toxic patterns or the glamorization of them and your relationship with Jungkook was proof. You knew relationships were supossed to be based on blind trust and faith in your partner and yours definitely reciprocated in the same way. 

"So can anybody tell me why Eunha is basically all over my boyfriend right now?" you wish you could blame your state on Hoseok's weed, who's sitting on the left side of the couch right next to you at the frat party. You really wish you could have an explanation for the way your heart tugged in such a weird way and your stomach swirled dangerously until almost making you nauseous. You really tried to blame your overthinking on the joint you had just passed to your friend. 

You knew it was bound to happen someday, especially considering Jungkook had always been a ladies' man and the kind of attraction from both men and women he was able to manifest, willing or unwillingly. You just never thought it would happen so soon and in such way that made you clench your fists so tight and your nails dig into the palm of your hands so painfully. 

"I mean, they did have like a long fling a few years ago, didn't they?" Seulgi, sitting on your right, chimes in. 

That was true. Longer than most flings Jungkook ever had before you.  

"Yeah, before she dumped him." Hoseok adds.

Your eye twitches and your jaw contracts. Because that, was also true, and it was mostly what was bothering you so much. 

Had it been Jungkook the one to move away from his situationship with Eunha like with most girls, you wouldn't have such a problem with the way she's shamelessly leaning towards him from across the room. Or the way she's twirling a strand of her hair between one of her fingers while battling her lashes. Or the way she's hysterically laughing at whatever he was saying, because your boyfriend was funny, but he was not that funny. 

You were not the jealous type, and Jungkook definitely wasn't giving you any reason to be, because as coquettish as the blonde was being or as provocatively as she was pushing her tits into his arm, he politely keeps his distance and tries to also engage with Jimin in conversation, leaving her pouting. But that wasn't enough to not make you start seriously questioning your feminist ethics right now. 

"Wait, you're not jealous, are you?" Seulgi turns to you, offering you the joint -how long had you been focusing your attention on Jungkook and Eunha to not realize it was your turn again to smoke?-. You take it, hesitating between answering right away or taking a hit before doing that. You were never a good liar. You look between your two friends who are looking back at you with their eyebrows raised.

"I-" you close your mouth and run your fingers through your hair. "Maybe? I don't know what I'm feeling and I don't like it one bit." 

"Aw, babe." Seulgi squeezes your knee, eyes showing you sympathy. "Jealousy is a natural response to any relationship."

"I know..." you take the joint in your hand, taking a long drag before letting the smoke out. "I just don't want to sound like an insecure little bitch!" you whine. "I don't want to be like 'Oh, why would Jeon Jungkook, a God of the Olympus, dare give his attention to a peasant as unworthy as me!?' Like no, he's just a man. A little less mediocre than most but a man nontheless. I'm not going to doubt myself or other women just because he's more beautiful than most, and hotter, and funnier and has a massive co-" you notice you're getting carried away by the look of disgust in Hoseok's face and Seulgi trying to hold back a laugh. 

"Anyways, he's lucky to have me. We're both lucky to have each other but sometimes I feel like I might be the luckiest out of the two. And seeing Eunha looking so pretty and throwing herself at him is triggering me because..." you pause to take a deep breath and lounch back on the couch. "What if he realizes one day that I'm luckier than he is and he could be luckier with someone else?"

There's, ironically, a long silence. Ironically because the sound of Travis Scott making the walls tremble is anything but, until Hoseok speaks.

"I think you feel that way because you still haven't seen how that boy looks at you, _____." and then he motions to the spot from across the room you had been observing for too long, the spot where Jungkook is now glancing at you after noticing your detectable distress, with a frown on his features. 

'You okay?' he mouthes, his fist raising in the air in a thumbs up, questioningly.  

Your heart jerks, and not out of bitterness or envy caused by a girl trying to get your boyfriend's attention. Because his attention is always entirely on you, no matter how many feet are separating the two of you. 

'Yes' you mouth back, with a nod of your head and an encouraging smile that has formed itself on your face. He beams as well at you. Mouthes an 'I love you' and puckers his lips in a flying kiss that makes you giggle. You mimic him, your heart tight against your chest. 

Hoseok is right. You have nothing to worry about.

Jungkook is in love with you. Sometimes, he thinks, he's too in love with you.

"Can't believe I'm letting you do this."

"Can't believe you're such a pussy."

Jungkook huffs in annoyance. He would smack your ass right now if his hands weren't restricted by a scarf of yours he had never seen before to your bedpost. He would also send you a mean look if his eyes weren't covered by the only tie he owned and had so generously lent to you. 

When you mentioned you wanted to try this, he expected you to be in this position. Not the other way around.

He's sprawled on your bed, only his boxers covering him as your legs straddle his waist and you tighten the hold of the scarf around his wrists sternly. He winces and manages an 'Hey!' He knows you're only wearing your panties because he can't feel anything else and he's felt one of your naked tits brushing  his face as you tied him up. He also tried to catch one of your nipples in his mouth as a form of punishment, to no use because you swiftly backed away from his attempt. 

"I've never been a bottom before, this is new for me." he says. He really doesn't mind any of this. He's just not used to it. He knows he'd be lying if he said it didn't turn him on a little bit, even if he'd rather be the one to have you completely unmoving and naked beneath him. Especially now that you're skimming your nails up and down his torso.

"Mm, good to know." your lips follow the path your fingers created, from the center of his chest up, moving steadily and tracing soft kisses over his flesh. 

"Don't worry. I'll be gentle." you croon, dragging your tongue from the pulse of his neck to his earlobe, nails scraping lightly over his left nipple. Jungkook shudders, air sucked in through his teeth as his mouth opens on its own. Taking advantage of this, you place a kiss on the corner of his lips before slipping your tongue inside. 

He answers simultaniously, his own tangling with yours, swallowing each other's moans. Your hips set a slow peace, clothed cad core griding over the length poking between your thighs. His hips move unvoluntarily, trying to find some sort of friction to make up for the fact that his hands are unavailable to knead your ass and pull you closer, if that was even possible.

You separate from him, raising on your knees. Jungkook whines in protest, hips buckling up from the mattress to try to meet yours again.

"Jungkook, I'm serious, stay still!" 

"I take it back." his voice shaky and hands straining against the tight hold the scarf you tied around has on them. "I don't like this. Untie me so I can fuck you, babe." he complains. You sit on his tiny waist, your thighs trying to stop his movements. 

You take a moment to assess him. He looks too beautiful for his own good: hair courtaning his forehead, biceps bulging and abs flexing. You can't see his eyes but you know they might be glassy. You bite your lip to supress a whine of delight. You almost consider doing as he says. Almost. 

But you mantain your ground. Your jealousy from the other night had been crawling slowly from within these past few days and since you couldn't take it out on Jungkook any other way because he really wasn't to blame, you figured you'd try something new to punish him and let some of your supressed anger vanish. 

Twisting your body back to pull down his boxers, not all the way, just enough to have his cock springing free from the confines of the fabric and slapping against your asscheeks.

"Has toxic masculinity seriously polluted your brain so much you can't take this seriously?" you fall forward, one of your hands balancing you beside his head as the other wraps around his neck, a tentative hold not yet to constrict his breathing. 

He gulps, his body's tense and his Adam's apple is prominent under your touch. All he can see is black but he'd do anything to watch your pretty tits bouncing in front of his face. "I don't like this conversation either." he pouts.

"Then why are you so hard?" you grin, holding yourself back from laughing as he hesitates for an answer. You lean closer, mouth against his ear as you whisper. "I'm so wet right now, I could take you just like this. No lubrication at all and my pussy would just swallow your dick." Feeling his girth still between your ass flutter, clearly affected by the sultry tone of your voice. You remove your hand from his neck seeing as he has stopped moving obediently. Reaching back, you slide your panties to the side and align your entrance to the head of his leaking cock. 

"Fuck, baby, please~" Jungkook's pleads fills the air, hips desperately back in motion and sliding just a few inches inside your drenched heat. The warmth envoles him instantly, your pussy pulsates around him and neither of you can't help the in synch groans tearing from your throats. 

"Just the tip" you lick your lips, your voice betraying you as you resist the urge to glide the rest of his lenght inside your quivering core.

"Just the tip, my ass." 

Out of sudden, Jungkook is swiftly lifting his hips from the matress, sinking all the way in. You cry as your body jumps forward, face hidden in the juncture of Jungkook's sweaty neck. His thick cock stretches you out as nice and deep and perfectly as he always does. You mewl. This was not supossed to happen at all.  

"See? This is what you really wanted." you can hear the chuckle threatening to spill from his lips, anger starting to boil inside of you again. 

Regaining a little bit of your lost control, you lift yourself on your trembling knees and sit back again, the tip of his dick hitting your cervix. You groan in unision, placing your hands on the hard planes of his chest and steadying yourself to try to reclaim your dominance. Finding it troublesome, because Jungook is set on having it his own way, his thrusts meeting yours in perfect synch.

You really shouldn't feel your climax approaching so soon but somehow battling for control while bickering with Jungkook is about to send you over the edge and that's making you even more annoyed.

"I swear to God, Jungkook. If you don't stop moving and shut the fuck up..." your murmur through gritted teeth, jaw slackened and eyes fluttering shut.  

"What?" he spats, breathing rugged and voice coarse. "If I don't shut up, you'll wha-"

The sound of a sharp smack echoes inside your room and Jungkook's movements freeze on the spot. His head is turned to the side from the impact, and a faint print of your fingers is adorning his  already stinging cheek. None of you mutter anything for a few seconds, until concerned words start to rush out of you.

"Ohmygod, Jungkook, I-"

"Did you just slap me?" Jungkook is unmoving, his mouth agape and you can picture the incredulous expression his eyes might be oozing. "Baby, what the fuck?!" You're mortified. Your hands cover your mouth and your eyes, wide open, stare down at him although he can't stare at you back.

"Babe, I don't know why I did that, you wouldn't stop talking and I know that's not an excuse but it-" 

"It was fucking hot." a breathy laugh in disbelief leaves his chest. Your forehead creases, hands falling down to your chest to try to steady your incessant heartbeat. His tongue darts between his pearly teeth, a smug smirk on his features. An eyebrow of yours raises as you size him up, the realization that his body is completely motionless now hitting you.

Lurging forward, you pinch his jaw between your fingers, your hips carry on their grinding on their own accord. He releases a raspy moan, your walls clenching around him as another hit strikes his cheek, softer this time. 

"You gonna be good to me?" you mutter against his lips. He nods slowly, his mouth salivating as your hips swirl on top of him. He blindly tries to reattach his mouth to yours, but you dodge him, going for the skin of his clavicle instead. "Can I fuck you slow like this until you're filling me with your cum?" He squirms when he feels you sucking a pretty purple bruise on his flesh, your cunt dropping all the way down his cock, leisurly grinding against his pelvic bone, looking yourself to find some relief to your clit. 

"Ah!" his head tilts back, back slighlt arching as you soothe the mark on his neck with your tongue. "That m-might be s-sooner than you think, babe" he admits timorously, swallowing the lump in his throat, the veins on his neck on full display. 

You sigh in content because, thankfully your orgasm is also closer than he thinks it is. "M-me too-" you gasp, your face buried on his shoulder, letting your fingers brush his ebony hair, nails gently scrapping his scalp as you keep the tortuous movements of your hips against his, his girth hitting that spot just right everytime until you feel the knot in your tummy finally snapping. "C-cum, J-Jungkook, I-m-"

Jungkook doesn't need to be told twice because he has been holding back from it for a while now, not really willing to admit he was enjoying this as much as he was. With a thrust of his own fused with the way your pussy is tightening around him it's enough to send him over the edge, an unpredicted cry emanating from his vocal chords harmonizing with your own, his whole body tensing as your walls milk every single drop of his cum. 

For several minutes you stay just like that. Jungkook's hands still tied, blindfold still on, his mouth still agape as his chest rises and falls until his breathing becomes steady again. And you, on top, your fingers tangled in his dark locks, your breath fanning against his neck and his release dripping down your thighs. You stay like that until your body starts shaking with uncontrollable laughter. 

Jungkook tilts his head towards yours, eyebrows furrowing and eyes still covered.

"What was that noise?" you manage through your giggle fit. "'Aaah!'" You've never made a noise like that before, I can't- it was so funn-"

Even while still being strained and blindfolded and with you making fun of him, a loopsided goofy smirk starts making an appearence on Jungkook's features. 

Fancy dinner parties were never your thing. 

Wearing heels that were too high -specifically to try to match Jungkook's height-, a new expensive dress that you were surely going to return as soon as the event was over because you definitely could not afford it and socializing with Jungkook's clique was definitely not the way you envisioned your Saturday night going. 

At least Jungkook had barely been able to keep his hands for himself at the sight of you wrapped in emerald green silk and lace. But even that couldn't make you feel less uncomfortable and out of place. 

Yugyeom, one of Jungkook's friends, had definitely more money than your boyfriend had previously let you know. Apparently, being a 'lil rich' as Jungkook had mentioned meant booking a luxurious restaurant to hold a dinner party with at least fifty people who looked just as 'lil rich' as Yugyeom's Gucci tuxedo.  

'It'll be alright babe. Yugyeom always insists on celebrating his birthday like it's an Oscar after party. We'll just eat some of that disgusting caviar and then head home to watch Netflix, I swear'. 

And yes, caviar was gross, but so was the fact that Jungkook had failed to mention a certain someone would also be making an appearence. 

After introducing you to a few of his friends and realizing that Mingyu's frendliness and amiability helped you feel more relaxed, he had excused himself to the bathroom, leaving you and his friend to entangle in a heated conversation about How I Met Your Mother's finale season. 

You were thankful for Mingyu's humble nature and easygoing talk for a few minutes until you finally spotted your boyfriend making his way back into the room, stopping in his tracks to acknowledge a group of friends from his class. 

Again, you wouldn't have such a problem with a certain blonde if she would just stop looking at Jungkook with stars in her eyes and pressing her cleavage against him while playing with her hair. It was hard to keep track of your conversation with Mingyu while Eunha was standing right next to your boyfriend and seemingly ogling up at him. It was also hard to not let your mind waver to dangerous territory when you took notice of how disgustingly good they looked together. 

Just two attractive people who would look disgustingly good together. 

Mingyu's voice makes you turn back to him. 

"...I don't know, like, Barney was a womanizer until Robin, you know? He changed for her! They were just perfect for each other, but they had to throw it all away by killing the mother and then making Robin marry Ted? And Barney going back to his old ways?" Mingyu sounds exhasperated and you would laugh and find it cute if your stomach wasn't tugging again in a way that made you regret drinking so much wine so fast. Specially after his last statement.  

"That's what I'm saying." you mumble, turning your attention back to your boyfriend in the crowd.

Jungkook wouldn't go back to his old ways. He loves you. There's nothing to worry about.

But as you watch him start to make his way towards you, you also watch the way Eunha grabs the sleeve of his blazer to pull him back. She leans in, whispers something in his ear to which he just shakes his head, says something that it's impossible to decipher from here you're standing and simply walks in your direction. 

Still, as much as you tried to be neutral and objective and not a 'jealous little bitch', it's almost impossible to hide the sour expression on your face. It's impossible to unclench your jaw throughout the entire evening or lose the too tight grip on your glass of wine. Even when Jungkook whispers in your ear if you're okay, you merely nod yes. You avoid eye contact with him and everytime he tries to slip your hand into his, you dodge him it by wrapping your arms around yourself, claiming how cold it is.

Jungkook is not dumb. 

He know something's up but he's also not stupid enough to cause a scene in public or preassure you into talking. So he settles on wating and being patient. Even as he slips his jacket on your stiff shoulders with pouty lips and his eyebrows drawn together, all he does is press a small kiss to the back of your neck. It takes all power within you to not throw yourself in his arms. 

But as midnight approaches and it's time to leave, you notice a change in Jungkook's behaviour as you say your goodbyes. His hand on your back is not just a soft caress, instead, his fingers pull you closer, dig into your skin as he drags the both of you to where his car is parked. Now it's him who avoids your gaze. His tensed jaw and his tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek is a visible indicator that Jungkook is pissed. 

You know his body language as well as he knows yours. And now, as he opens the door of the passanger seat so you can slide in, the guilt and the remorse of acting cold towards him for hours is finally dawning on you. 

"Are you going to tell me now what was that about?" when he closes his own door shut, he doesn't bother to put his seatbelt on. Just grips the steering wheel as he turns to you. 

"I-I don't know what you're t-"

"You don't know what I'm talking about?" he laughs, not a bit of humour in it. "I know scenes like this make you feel uncomfortable but I actually thought everything was going fine. I leave you for five minutes with Mingyu and when I come back, you won't look at me, won't touch me, won't act like I'm your boyfriend. Like I did something wrong. So please, _____, tell me, what's going on?"

You know there's no excuse for the way you acted. You know it's not Jungkook's fault he attracts attention and it most definitely not his fault if an ex of his is still hung up on him. You know it's your own fault and you know you should not try to excuse yourself and fight back. You'd swore to yourself you'd push down any feelings of jealousy deep inside until they disappeared. But something about tonight makes you explode.

"Why was she being all over you?"

Jungkook's face twists in confusion. "What? Who?"

"Eunha! Who the fuck else? She was all over you a few weeks ago at Minghao's party, and she was all over you tonight!" your voice is louder than you would've liked but at this point all you care about is letting it all out.

"This is what all of that was about? Eunha?"

"Yes! I've seen her on campus as well! Always trying to get your attention! I don't care that you have friends in common, but specially tonight, she whispered something to you and she was looking at you like she-"

"Who cares how she looks at me? All you need to care about is how I look at you because the only thing I care about is how you look at me!" Jungkook exclaims, clearly exhausted of this conversation. 

You sink in your seat and look away as the knuckles on his hands turn white from gripping the steering wheel. 

"_____," he calls you gently,  but his voice mantains a stern tone to it. "We don't do jealousy. I thought we were supossed to trust each other blindly. Have I not proved to you how sickenly in love with you I am? Do you not trust me and what I feel?"

"I-... Of course I do. I-just... I don't know. You're right. That was uncalled for." you wrap yourself in the warmth of Junkook's blazer, trying to make his scent wash away any ugly resentment and guilt in your body. 

"Wanna know what she said to me?" a rethorical question, because he was going to tell you anyway. "She asked me if I was going to stay for Yugyeom's after party, way past midnight. Wanna know what I said?" he turns to you. "I said no, I'm spending the night with my girlfriend."

None of you say nothing after that. He just puts his seatbelt on and starts driving. It's not too much of a far drive to his dorm, but the silence and the awkwardness makes it feel so much longer than it should be. You don't remember the last time Jungkook was mad at you. Actually, you don't think Jungkook has ever been mad at you. He loved the banter, loved to tease you, loved being competitive with you. But you had never seen him being avoidant of you. And that feeling tears your heart on the seat of his car.

"Are you mad at me?" you ask, voice barely audible, when the car stops at a red light. His dark eyes meet yours, his face immediately softening as he studies your expression. Then he picks one of your small hands in one of his big ones, brings it to his lips and lightly kisses your knuckles. He communicates with his eyes what he doesn't with words and it's enough to make you feel secure, at least for now.

When you finally arrive at Jungkook's room, he holds the door ope for you and lets you walk in, but he's still unusually quiet. So much so, you start to worry you might have fucked up big time. 

You stand there, not knowing what to do as you watch him sit down on his bed, slipping his shoes and socks off and loosening the tie around his neck. His hair, that was perfectly styled a few hours ago, is now messy by the amount of times his hand has pushed it back. He looks too yummy, and you hate the fact that tension and a little bit of fighting has managed to make him look as delectable. 

You ignore the heat starting to form in your belly because now it's not the time to be horny. Not when you still need to apologize and make things right. He's rolling  the sleeves of his black shirt down his forearms when you decide to speak. 

"Jungkook, I'm very sorry." you start, as you remove his blazer off you and place it on the chair right in front of his desk. "I don't know why I acted the way I did. I dont get easily jealous and I really don't think I am but..." your throat constricts your words for a moment. "The more I love you, the more frightened I get when I think that one day you'll realize I'm better off as your best friend's little sister. I-I dont know what I'd do with myself if that ever happene-"

"Take off your dress." Jungkook's impassive voice and emotionless face startles you and you freeze on your feet. 

"What?"

"Did I stutter?"

His elbows rest on his knees and he's holding your stare with his. His doe eyes lack that free spirited and amusing glint they usually have. He looks bored, scrutinizing you. He's not challenging you. He's commanding you because he knows you will obligue. 

That's why you gulp and slowly slide the straps of your dress down your arms until the fabric pools at your feet. His eyes waver along your naked breasts, nipples perking up like the mere intensity of his gaze is ordering them to. He doesn't make a move and doesn't say anything for a few seconds. He doesn't compliment you like he normally would at the sight of you almost naked in front of him.

His lack of words make you feel insecure, regardless of how turned on you are. You're used to Jungkook being reassuring, you're used to his lighthearted jokes and his playful kisses in the bedroom. But you're not used to Jungkook telling you what to do and keeping his distance while doing so. Your arms move on their own to hide yourself.

"Don't. If you hide from me, I swear to God, _____." he watches you as you let your arms fall back to your sides, your chest moving up and down while you struggle to breathe. You can't deny Jungkook's gruff voice and his eyes studying every bit of skin available to him like he hasn't seen you naked before is not making your underwear stick to your lower lips. 

"JK, I just don't think this is the right moment to-"

"On my lap." your heart skips a bit, a thrill of excitement coursing through your veins.

"Jungkook-"

"I said, get on my lap, face down." he says again, this time slower. One of his eyebrows quirk up. "Or would you rather me drag you myself? Or make you crawl?"

Your eyes widen, and your feet are quick to approach him. Your nipples tingle, your core is throbbing and your cheeks are adorned by a beautiful blush that Jungkook doesn't miss. 

He doesn't move until you're in front of him, just to help you lower yourself on his lap, your cheek and your nipples touching the mattress and your ass up. You close your eyes when Jungkook skims his fingertips over your skin, his carressing relaxing your body until he eases your nerves a bit. He sighs when he notices the way that poor excuse of a thong sticks between your folds as his strong hands massage your buttcheeks. 

He's taking his time, his fingers gliding over your soft skin, his breathing too calm for your liking. Until one palm of his hand collides sharply against your right cheek, sending your body forward. You gasp, the stinging making your body want to pull away. But he's quick to catch both your wrists behind your back, keeping you in place. 

"Jungk-!"

Another smack, this time harder, on the same cheek. 

"Did I give you permission to talk?"  

Smack. This time on the left cheek. Your back arches on its own will, presenting more of your ass to him unwittingly. Your eyes squeezed shut and bite the inside of your cheek as you rub your thighs together. You keep quiet as his hand lands another blow on your ass. 

"That's a good girl. Now," his voice is gentler this time as his hand soothe your reddened cheeks. "do you think what you did tonight was okay?" you say nothing, only a mewl slips past your lips. Another smack. "Answer me."

"No." you lick your lips, anticipating more. 

"Do you think it was funny to pull a stunt like that?" 

Smack.

"N-no!"

"No, it wasn't. Spread your legs for me." you do as you're told and he finally pulls down the drenched piece of lace down your thighs. He leans forward, spreads your cheeks with one hand as he lets a glob of spit fall directly into your lips. He makes you gasp when his fingers start sliding up and down your folds slowly. 

"I've had to put up with this kind of behavour since the day you begged me to fuck this tight, virgin pussy like the little slut you are." you whine, face red as humiliation starts to creep in. Jungkook slips one finger in, pumping it slow and easy. Your hips move to take him deeper.

"I tried to be a gentleman, you know?" he says, adding a second finger. "I've tried to treat you nice and sweet and be the best boyfriend I could be to make you happy and keep you satisfied in every sense of the word." his thumb finds your clit, rubbing tortuous circles. 

"Been compeletely whipped since I kissed you for the first time. Haven't looked at other girls because I just can't when I have everything I want to look at right in front of me." murmuring, he starts to get lost your pussy and how it swallows his fingers and how obscene you look and sound, dripping right on his trousers. He watches his fingers moving in and out, almost hypnotized. "Yet, somehow..." he pulls away. You whimper in protest. 

"Somehow, you still seem to doubt me." His hand smacks your cheek again, wet fingers spreading your essence all over your skin.

"P-please, please." you cry. You miss Jungkook's sadistic smile before he releases the grip on your wrists, still keeping you on his lap. Both his hands spread your cheeks now, and another glob of spit falls right into your asshole. His fingers find your cunt again, easily taking you almost over the edge.

"If you could only look at yourself right now... All spread out for me like a needy whore in heat" his thumb teases your unexplored rim, hesitantly, coating it with his spit and your own arousal. He presses in slowly. You gasp, your body tenses and Jungkook stills his movements immediately. There's silence for a few seconds. 

"Too far? Should I stop?" and there's your Jungkook, concern lacing his voice. His free hand caresses your back, your body relaxing, laying back down obediently. His fingers are still inside you and his thumb is still asking for entrance. He leans forward, placing a small but comforting kiss on the bruised skin of your right asscheek. 

"Go on." you whisper, but he doesn't move right away. This time, it's his own body that tenses momentarely before going back to his tranquil demeanor. He breathes through his noise as his fingers pick up where they left off. 

"Yeah?" you swear you hear him swallow a lump in his throat. "Gonna let me finger this tight little ass like a good slut? Mm?" his thumb slides deeper, slightly stretching you out while his fingers work your pussy in a solid rhythm. "Gonna let me stretch you out little by little until I can open you up with my cock one day?" his movements speed up, fingers sliding out of your cunt to play with your clit and his thumb slowly moving in and out. "You don't wanna talk now? You just want to stay silent while I fuck your ass and-"

And then you're cumming, so unexpected it takes both of you by surprise. Your hands grip onto Jungkook's sheets, your thighs clasp around his hand as you scream his name. He doesn't stop though. He rides you through it, encouraging words mixing with filthy insults that prolong your orgasm until you're squirming beneath him. 

"Shit, baby... My hand is soaked." he mumbles, as he slowly removes his fingers and thumb from you. "You okay?"

You faintly nod your head yes, not able to find words through your dry mouth and your pussy still convulsing. 

"Good. Get on the bed. On your hands and knees." 

You somehow manage to slip from his lap and position yourself as he says. Except your arms and legs are shaking. Although the sound of Jungkook undoing his belt and his hands gripping your hips and bringing you towards him until the head of his dick is at your entrance is enough to make you forget about how tired your body is. You surrender to him, not even bothering to hold yourself up on your arms, your fingers crumbling the sheets and your face buried into the pillow. 

When his cock enters you, a pitiful moan leaves your mouth. His thick lenght slides into your heat, filling you perfectly as he always does. It's a wonder how well he fits inside you. 

"Such a perfect slut for me. Always ready for me to do whatever I want with her, since day one. So tight, so ready. So, so perfect. All mine." he talks as measured as he moves, dragging each word out as his hips find a nice tempo. 

Then he doesn't move for a while with his dick buried between your walls, and you know he's holding himself back. You turn your head slightly to look at him. He catches your eyes instantly. Sees your mascara running down your watery eyes, and your smudged lipstick and your messy hair and then he's giving you that look. That look that lets you know that Jungkook is, indeed, whipped for you. Leaning in, he presses his shirt-covered chest to your sweaty, naked back. His cock dives deeper, not an ounce of space between you as he lovingly kisses your cheek until his mouth finds yours. 

He kisses you hard but soft, tongue meeting yours for the first time since you entered the room. Jungkook is not a man of words. He's silly, and a jokester, and finds it difficult to express how he's feeling. But when he kisses you, or looks at you, when he touches you, or when he makes love to you, even if it's as dirty and filthy as right now, he's always able to transmit exactly what he can't vocally.

He's telling you there's no other place he'd rather be than here, with you. 

When he pulls back, a string of saliva still connecting your lips, his hand moves to the back of your head, fisting your hair in a tight hold that makes you arch your back and desperately moan for him.

"A-and you're mine." you sob.

It's like something snaps inside of him. He growls and suddenly his hips lose control. He nails you against the mattress, his grip on your hair pulling your head back, his lips against your ear as your cunt clenches around his cock. 

"Just yours. All yours." his grunts send shivers down your spine and you're close again, even in the painful and uncomfortable position your body is in. Being at Jungkook's mercy and him being at yours is enough to have you seeing starts.

"This is the only pussy I want wrapped around my cock. Your lips are the only ones I want to kiss. You're the only one I want between my arms." It only takes two flickers of Jungkook's free hand against your nub and his next words to tip you over. "You belong to me, and I belong to you."

You squeal as you come, and Jungkook bites your shoulder to keep himself from doing so as well as he follows shortly. He fills you up with his release,  but he doesn't release you from him. He wraps his arms around your frame, both your bodies becoming soft as he rolls over to one side with your back still pressed to his chest, cock still inside you. His lips find their way to the skin of your shoulder and the back of your neck. His breath fanning your flesh makes you smile.

"That is so not like my sister. I'm telling you, she never gets jealous." Taehyung says over the phone. He's munching on something again and Jungkook would bet all the money in his wallet again he's eating Skittles. Red Skittles. "So, everything cool now?"

"Yeah, man. We just talked it out, you know?" Jungkook's gaze falls on you, laying on your stomach on his bed, laptop iluminating your face, earbuds on and your head moving to whatever music you're listening to. Jungkook would bet all the money in his bank account it's Shape Of My Heart by The Backstreet Boys. Or at least that's what he's been able to guess so far. He was never good at reading lips, specially when trying to guess boybands' lyrics. 

Friday's nights meant late 1990's/early 2000's pop nostalgia for you. It meant shaking his head and spending the following week trying to get Britney and Xtina songs out of his brain for him. Although lately, he hadn't been trying that hard. Jungkook sighs in content, not really trying to cover the fact that he might be looking at you like a starstruck teenager. Which, it was totally fair because that's exactly how he feels about you. "Communication is key, bro."

He keeps watching you until your head perks up and catch him gawking. You smile at him and he smiles back.

"By 'communication is key' you mean you actually fucked my little sister silly right? Bro, I swear, I'll block your numb-"

"Sorry man, gotta go." 

"And now you're gonna fuck her silly again, right? You son of a b-"

Jungkook hangs up just as you take your earbuds off, making his way to you to kiss you silly.

[angelicyoongie]

desolate (7)

— summary: you just wanted a cute little normal cat to keep you company. so, you're not really sure how you ended up with the grumpiest hybrid on earth that seems hellbent on making your life difficult.

— pairing: cat hybrid yoongi x human reader

— genre: angst, fluff, eventual smut

— word count: 4.7k

— tag list: @mrcleanheichou @ladymidnightt @cheese123344 @xanny91 @dinorahrodriguez @best-space-boy @dulcaet @moccahobi @keijaycreates @staytrillswag @xsmilebitesx @serendipityoreuphoria @jiminot7 @beyond-the-swag @nananaum1 @mult1wh0re @ditttiii @faithsummers11 @twomilkmen-gocomedy @theonewholovestoread @karissassirak @veryuniquenamegoeshere @yourlipssoirresistible @ayoo-bangtan @murderyoursoul @btsxdoll @see3milyblog @gukiyi @officialcarly9701 @mtgforall @narcissism-iskey @sp3ak-yours3lf @cesthoney @imluckybitches @hd-junglebook @sugarrimajins @multifandomgirl29 @beach-bitch-bitch-beach @bangtansleftnut @theresa-nam-nam-me @angeltothecore @ghostkat23 @deathkat657 @awixxx @httpmedxsa @veronawrites @bubbletae7 @serious-addiction @chogiyeol-utopia @nomimits7 @lorielulu7 @1am9root6 @sana-b @diamonddia-mond @jiminiessipabo @myhearttteu @rainbowmagicpixecorn @lidda @rosiethefairy​

Part one Part two Part three Part four Part five Part six Part eight Part nine Part ten (M) Part eleven Part twelve Part thirteen Part fourteen (M)

It’s the fifth day in a row you’re waking up to your hand tightly clasped between Yoongi’s. You realized your initial mistake pretty quickly, having given your own rule such a massive loophole. Apparently when you had pointed at Yoongi’s human form and told him he wasn’t allowed in bed when you were there, that didn’t apply to his cat form too. So, you had resigned pretty quickly to the fact that cat Yoongi snuggled up on your bed every night.

You didn’t really mind it too much; you could practically trick yourself into thinking he actually was one. What was harder to ignore however, was the very human man you woke up to every morning. You assume his transformation drops after a certain amount of time if he isn’t awake enough to continue it, and that’s why you find yourself face to face with Yoongi’s pale skin and long lashes every morning.

You’re pretty sure he does wake up during the night to get dressed though, considering the fact that he’s never naked when you wake up – which you’re very thankful for. He could technically transform back when he wakes up, but you also get why he doesn’t. He had been forced to keep up his transformation for such a long time at the shelter, and you don’t want to make him feel any worse. You know he needs a break from it.

The first morning had nearly given you a heart attack, but you found it hard to banish him to the couch when he looked so comfy next to you. And he was technically still on top of the covers, so you’ve let it slide, for now.

You know it before you even open your eyes – the feeling of slender fingers slightly intertwined with yours, the puffs of air hitting the small inches of skin that aren’t covered. Yoongi seems to somehow always manage to bring your intertwined hands close to his face, and you can feel each exhale as he breathes out.

He looks peaceful when he sleeps; cheek pressed into the pillow below him, and pink lips slightly parted. There’s no tension in his face, no frown to pull on his features, and you find that with each morning you wake up to seeing his face like this, the more you wish you could keep it that way.

You sigh softly, slowly trying to worm your hand out of Yoongi’s grasp. His face pinches right away at the moment, annoyed that the warmth in his grasp is moving. He drags your hand even closer, the back of it ending being pressed up against his lips. You feel heat creep into your cheeks as Yoongi lets out an incoherent mumble, his soft lips moving against your skin as he speaks.

He’s inhaling more harshly now that your hand is closer, his fluffy ears twitching slightly with each breath. It would be a lie if you said you hadn’t thought about touching them, the silky fur seeming tantalizingly soft. You haven’t, of course, and there’s no way you’re going to ask Yoongi if you can. You know certain parts are more sensitive for hybrids than they are for humans, and you would never want to put Yoongi into an uncomfortable situation.

You’re so caught up in watching his ears that you hardly even register the wetness on your wrist. Your eyes flicker down to Yoongi’s mouth just as his tongue peeks out from between his lips, giving your wrist another kitten lick.

You suck in a breath, unsure and overwhelmed in the early morning. It becomes obvious to you now that Yoongi is scenting you despite being asleep, and him holding your hand so close every morning makes a little more sense too. He seems to have subconsciously grown attached to your scent, and his instincts probably make him try to get as close to you as possible while still respecting your boundaries.

You bite your lip, wiggling your fingers to test how easy it would be to slip away without waking him up. You don’t know if it’s a good idea to let him know what he’s doing or not. You don’t want to embarrass him now that he’s finally starting to open up, but you don’t know if it’s right to let him go on unknowingly either.

Yoongi suddenly lets up on his grasp around your hand to shift his position, and you use the opportunity to quickly slip out of his hold. He gets an adorable pout on his lips as he loses your touch, but it doesn’t seem to wake him up.

You’re too awake to try to go back to sleep, so you decide that you might as well get up. Sundays are always a little bittersweet. You have the day off, but you also know that you’ll be back at work in less than twenty-four hours.

You shuffle out into the hallway, deciding you might as well do laundry first. Despite your apartment being older, you still consider it a steal since it has its own washing machine in the bathroom. Sure, it makes it pretty cramped, but it beats having to go to a laundromat to get clean clothes.

You rummage through your hamper, pulling out all the dark colours to do the first load. You pause as you pull up your hoodie, a dust bunny still clinging to the fabric. When you first found it under the couch you had just shrugged it off as your cat being weird, but now that he can actually talk? You need an answer to sate your curiosity as to why he would even bring it under there in the first place.

It’s the smell of food that brings Yoongi out into the kitchen, eyes puffy with sleep and black hair sticking up in every direction.

“How do you feel about a haircut?” You ask as you place a plate of eggs, bacon and toast in front of him. He glances up at you suspiciously from his seat at the small table.

“I noticed your hair keeps getting into your eyes, and it can’t be comfortable,” You shrug as you place down your own food, taking your seat on the opposite side.

“How would I get one? I can’t go to a hairdresser,” Yoongi grumbles as he takes a bite of the toast.

“I was thinking that I could do it,” You offer. Yoongi chokes on a mouthful of eggs, sending you a glare as he tries to wash it down with water.

“You?” He scoffs, pale fingers reaching up to tug at his locks.

“Yeah. Why not? If it turns out bad then no one else will see it anyway,” You reason. You have been cutting your own hair for years, and you feel fairly confident you can do a decent job. It’s just hair after all, it shouldn’t be any different whether you did your own, or Yoongi’s.

Yoongi narrows his eyes, gaze sweeping over your hair as if he’s assessing your work. You can’t really figure out what he’s thinking about, his expression so carefully blank that you struggle to read him.

“I guess,” He huffs, blowing a piece of hair out of his eyes before he takes another bite of food.

You dig into your own, pleased that Yoongi trusts you enough to let you try. You don’t think you need to do much, just trim enough that it won’t irritate his eyes. Lost in your thoughts, your gaze briefly slips up from your plate to Yoongi, fork freezing mid-air as you catch the intense glare he’s sending your way.

“Don’t make me regret it.”

“Sit still,” You mumble, tugging the towel tight around Yoongi’s neck. Yoongi watches the scissors with distrust as you study his hair, trying to figure out the best way to go about cutting it. At least your kitchen has good enough lightning so that you can see everything you’re doing.

“Let’s start with your bangs?” You reach out to gently take the first lock between your fingertips. You bite the inside of your cheek in concentration as you start cutting it, nerves at an all time high as Yoongi’s eyes doesn’t leave your face. You slowly work your way around his head; trying your best to just trim the length, and not really change up his hairstyle too much.

The back of his head proves to be more difficult. You huff, running your fingers through the dark strands to figure out the best way to trim it. The texture is wavier in the back, and you’re scared of cutting too much and leaving it looking weird. Yoongi’s head starts tipping back into your hand the more you move your fingers through his locks, a content sigh falling from his lips as your nails accidently scratch against his scalp.

You stifle a laugh as he practically melts in your hands, slowly removing them before he gets so relaxed that he falls asleep. Yoongi lets out an annoyed growl as you tilt his head back to the position you need it to be to cut it. He keeps still as you cut through the rest of his hair, ears twitching every time the scissors slice through another lock of hair.

Once your deem yourself happy with the result, you move back around the chair to see if there’s any spots you missed. You know you haven’t cut the hair that’s directly surrounding his ears, but you’re honestly a little terrified of doing something wrong and hurting him.

“Are you done?” Yoongi looks up at you through narrowed eyes, tail flicking lazily behind him.

“Almost. I think I might have to touch your ears to cut the hair around them. Is .. is that okay?” You hesitate to ask, fingers curling around the scissors nervously.

Yoongi’s mouth draws into a line at your request, his tail stilling behind him.

“Just be quick,” He mutters. You fight off the blush that threatens to colour your cheeks as Yoongi spreads his legs, allowing you to step up between them. You know it’s only to give you easier access, but being so close feels weird. You’re not sure why it makes your stomach flutter.

You gently grasp one of his ears, moving it carefully to the side as you start trimming the hair around it. His ears are even softer than you imagined, the fur gliding under your fingers as Yoongi’s ear moves around. It proves to be more difficult than what you first thought, seeing as the cat ears can’t help but swivel every time the scissors makes a sound.

You instinctively tighten your hold when Yoongi’s ear suddenly moves dangerously close to being cut, the metal just narrowingly missing the muscle. Yoongi’s hands shoot out to grab your legs, fingertips digging into the flesh of your thigh as he lets out a startled hiss.

You freeze, eyes flying down to Yoongi’s face. The cat hybrid is already staring up at you through hooded lids; pupils so blown out that you can hardly see any colour.

“They’re sensitive,” Yoongi growls, the low sound sending a shiver down your spine.

“Oh, I–“ The fingers wrapped around your thighs give you a warning squeeze, making you lose your train of thought.

You’re struck dumb by how handsome Yoongi looks, how flawless his skin seems up close, how warm and big his hands are splayed across your thighs. He tilts his head back slightly, pink lips parting just an inch.

He has a mole on his cheek, you realize. You don’t know why you’ve never noticed it before, but you suddenly find yourself desperate to commit every inch of Yoongi’s face to your memory, not wanting to leave a single detail out.

Yoongi’s tongue peeks out to wet his lips, the action catching your attention. The cat hybrid is watching you watching him, the corner of his lips twitching up into a smirk as he realizes where your focus is.

“Just hurry up and be careful.”

You have to mentally shake yourself out of your stupor as your brain registers Yoongi’s words. The grip on your thigh pulls you even closer, not stopping until your legs knock against his.

You swallow hard, dry throat dry and itchy as you turn your focus back to Yoongi’s hair. You immediately regret tilting his head forward to get better access, when you feel his breath hit your shirt. You practically hold your breath as you work through his hair, the hands on your legs feeling like they might be more dangerous than the scissor near his ears.  

“I’m done,” You step back as quickly as you can after the final snip, Yoongi’s hands lingering on you thighs for a beat too long before he drops them down into his lap.

“You should probably go look and see if it’s okay,” You gesture in direction of the bathroom, busying yourself with sweeping up the hair on the floor with a dustpan to avoid having to meet his gaze. Your heart is hammering so loudly in your chest that there’s not a chance that Yoongi doesn’t hear it.

Yoongi stands up without a word, feet barely even making a sound as he walks out of the room. Once you’re sure he’s out of sight, you smack yourself on the forehead, annoyed by how hot and bothered just standing in front of Yoongi has made you. You don’t understand why you’re suddenly so affected. Yoongi is handsome – but it isn’t like you realized that today. So why is your heart suddenly pounding a mile an hour just from looking at his face?

“It looks fine,” Yoongi’s low voice scares the living daylights out of you. The dustpan clatters to the floor as you whip your head up to look at him. He’s leaning against the doorframe, his dark hair a little wilder than what you left it.

“Shit, you scared me,” You grimace, embarrassed that you were so caught up in thinking about him, that you didn’t even hear the cat hybrid come back into the room.

Yoongi only hums in response, crossing the floor to sweep up the locks that scattered across the ground. A low peep comes from the bathroom as you watch him stand and throw away the hair, alerting you that the second load of clothes is done.

“Hey Yoongi?” You rest your hip against the counter, turning you body slightly to face him as he places the dustbin and the broom back in its place. “Why did my hoodie end up under the couch?” Yoongi freezes, the muscles under his black t-shirt tensing as he faces the wall. “What hoodie?” His voice is nonchalant, barely even interested. But his ears are starting to flatten back against his head, and his tail looks stiff.

“The black one, the one I pulled out in front of you?”

“Oh right, that one,” Yoongi turns then, the light tone in his voice not matching the tightness in his face. He picks at his sweatpants, gaze roaming over the kitchen instead of looking at you.

“It smelled like you. It was comforting. Everything else was so new and you were gone most of the time, so ..” He explains with a shrug. His eyebrows are furrowed, an uneasy expression on his face.

“I’m sorry,” You murmur, stomach dropping at his words.

Yoongi shakes his head, a tight-lipped smile on his face as he finally meets your eyes. He seems uncomfortable to admit it, and the air around you feels awkward. You’re desperate to get rid of it. You catch sight of a bag of kernels on the counter, an idea springing to mind.

“How about we watch a movie?”

The movie helps. The tension in Yoongi’s body slowly slips away as you watch the film play out in front of you, and it’s practically gone when you both laugh at a funny line halfway through it. All the lights in the apartment are off, partly so that you can be more immersed in scenes playing out on your TV, and partly to save some on electricity. Your bills are due to come in soon, and you don’t doubt that everything will be pricier than it was last month. Especially with Yoongi loving to crank the heat up while you’re at work.

You watch the cat hybrid out of the corner of your eye, the blue hue from the screen making his pale skin glow in the darkness. The haircut makes him look more mature, his jawline seeming sharper than before. You’re suddenly struck by the fact that you don’t know just how old he is. You hardly know anything aside from his first name and food preferences.

Somehow, life just carried on as if he was still just your cat. And you never did anything about it.

“Yoongi? How old are you?” His eyes are rapidly following the action scene that’s playing out in front of you, but you see his ear swivel in your direction when you speak.

“Twenty-seven.” He’s older than you, like you thought, but not by much. You’re actually a little surprised he even gave you an answer, considering how reluctant he was to even share the fact that he was human with you, but maybe there’s certain things he’s willing to talk about. His age can’t be very incriminating after all.

A loud sound from the movie snaps your attention back to the screen, and you grab a handful of popcorn from the bowl in between you. You try to time it to when Yoongi isn’t reaching for it, but for some reason you always end up brushing your hand against his as you remove it from the bowl. You tell yourself it has to be a weird coincidence – Yoongi isn’t even looking at you! But the ear closest to you stays turned in your direction despite the noise from the TV. You can almost fool yourself into thinking he’s listening to you move so that he knows when to reach out to make contact with you.

Yoongi suddenly moves the popcorn bowl from the couch to the coffee table in front of you. Holding back an annoyed whine, you’re about to reach for it when a head of black hair plops down into your lap, stopping you in your tracks.

“I’m tired,” Yoongi grumbles, cheek mushed against your thigh. You don’t even have time to become flustered before Yoongi blindly reaches for your hand, pushing your fingers into his hair.

“Pets,” You comply easily, secretly maybe a little ecstatic that you’re allowed to fully run your fingers through his soft hair. It doesn’t take long of you gently scratching along Yoongi’s scalp before you hear a low rumble coming from his chest, the sound ebbing and flowing as he breathes.

He’s purring. You bite down on your lip to stop the coo that desperately wants to escape. Yoongi would probably whoop your ass if he heard it. Despite how cute it is, the sound also makes you a little worried. The purrs sound broken, a little hitching noise that keeps interrupting what should have been a seamless flow. It makes your heart ache, but you don’t ask about it. Instead you only pay more attention to Yoongi’s hair, the movie totally forgotten. You steer clear of his ears, opting to lightly massage the base of his neck.

Something soft brushes against the hand that’s not busy, and looking down, you find that Yoongi’s tail is just ever so slightly curled around your wrist. Yoongi’s breathing is calm and slow, the cat hybrid having fallen asleep in your lap. Your lips tug up in a soft grin, the fluttering feeling in your stomach returning. He might be a bit of a pain in the ass, but it isn’t hard to figure out that Yoongi makes you happy.

“Ah, I swear to god!” Jihyo hisses as she taps furiously against her keyboard. The situation has only been growing worse – new files having been breached every time you get into work. You wince, quickly scanning through your own to see if any files have been accessed recently.

The office is a mess. It’s difficult taking on new cases when it’s such a high risk that it might get hacked into, but the company can’t just stop taking on cases either. It needs funding and clients to function, and the help it offers is invaluable to a lot of hybrid cases.

“Fuck,” Jihyo suddenly whimpers, hiding her face in her hands. You can tell it’s been affecting her too, the dark circles under her eyes still visible under the layer of makeup.

“Breached?�� You ask, dreading the answer.

Jihyo nods, taking a deep breath as she spins her chair around. Everyone that has had their files breached needs to report to the boss, and for some reason, the hacker seems to love accessing hers.

“Good luck,” You whisper, Jihyo sending you a pained glance. You watch her until she rounds the corner, a bad feeling festering in your stomach. It obviously isn’t her fault that the system can’t keep outsiders, well, out – but you don’t think it bodes well that Jihyo has been hit so hard. She does take on a lot of higher profile cases, but not enough to be targeted like this.

You can’t find any breaches in yours, but it doesn’t do much to settle the anxiety you feel from just being in such a tense work place. You still have one active case you have to work on, something about an adoption dispute, and you need some files from the archive downstairs to really prove your point. You reach out for a sticky note, but you hand just grasps air. Again. Turning to look, you find that the pad of pink cat-formed sticky notes Jihyo gave you a few weeks ago is gone, no trace of it left behind. It isn’t unusual for other people in the office to take one here and there, but for the whole thing to be gone over the weekend? That doesn’t make sense.

You frown, settling back in your chair as you stare at your desk. This is the second time in only a short while that something has gone missing. You like all of your co-workers, but the fact that they don’t even have the decency to ask before taking something is irking you.

You huff, ripping a piece of paper instead to write down the file numbers. Even just going down one floor to the archives is a breath of fresh air, the atmosphere less tense than upstairs.

You give the IT workers a quick nod as you pass them by, recognizing a few of them after having worked here for so long. You’re not the most tech savvy, and so you’ve had more run-ins with the IT department than you would like to admit.

You make quick work of finding the files, moving through the boxes of files with practiced ease. It’s not that you’re eager to get back upstairs by any means, but you know Jihyo will probably need some emotional support as soon as she’s done in your boss’ office.

Collecting the papers you came for, you leave the archive room, closing the door behind you. Halfway through the room, your step falters slightly as you see a flash of pink out of the corner of your eye as you pass by a desk. You could have sworn it looked like ..

You shake off the thought, annoyed that the paranoia has started seeping into everything else. Of course other people can have pink sticky notes, it’s not like it’s exclusive to you.

You look up to see someone rushing straight at you. You swiftly move out of the way as the other person hurries through the door, not even sparing you a glance. A weird tremor runs down your spine as you notice that it’s the same lanky man you saw lurking outside your boss’ office.

You huff, pushing the reaction to the back of your mind. As you take the stairs up to your floor, you briefly wonder if you should have waited to see what desk he belongs to.

“Stop being ridiculous,” You scoff, rolling your eyes at your overly strung nerves. There’s no reason to suspect him of anything, it’s not like you actually caught him doing anything wrong.

However, even as the morning grows into the afternoon, you can’t seem to shake the feeling that something is just a little off.

“I’m home,” You call out as you lock the door behind you. You’re dead tired. Overthinking all day has left you with a nasty headache, and Jihyo being so upset about her breached cases has just made you feel even worse.

You let your feet carry you over to the couch, not even bothering to stop by your room and change before you collapse against the cushions. Yoongi watches you with curious eyes as you let your head drop back against the wall.

“Rough day at work?” Yoongi’s smooth voice is a welcome sound compared to the loud noises in the open office. You nod – wincing as the motion makes your head throb even more.

You feel the other side of the couch dip as Yoongi stands up, but you’re too tired to look where he’s going. It doesn’t take long before the soft footsteps return, something cold being thrust into your hand.

“Here,” Yoongi closes your hand around a glass of water, placing a painkiller into your other. You offer him a weak smile as thanks before taking the pill, the cool water making you feel a little better.

“Is something wrong?” Yoongi looks you over as he settles back down on the couch, brows pinched with concern.

“Some case files have been breached. It’s a whole mess,” You grimace, turning on your side to face him properly.

“Case files?” Yoongi looks at you with confusion. Ah, you never told him what you do.

“I work with mistreated hybrids. My company provides support and guidance with lawsuits,” Yoongi visibly stiffens, eyes cautiously darting around the room as if he’s expecting someone to pop out. You watch him as he shifts uneasily on the couch, hand gripping the side rest tightly. You don’t understand why he’s suddenly so worried, but you have a feeling it might have to do with why he was hiding out at the shelter in the first place.

“I see,” He finally murmurs; tail flicking back and forth behind his back. You decide that’s a conversation for another day, your brain is currently too incapable of handing any new information or emotions.

Once you realize Yoongi isn’t going to say anything else, you let your eyes glide shut. The darkness eases some of the throbbing in your head, the painkillers not having had enough time to kick in yet. It doesn’t take long before you feel yourself nodding off, your body craving a well-deserved nap.

You don’t pay the hands on your shoulders much mind, nor do you really care that the room seems to be tilting until you hit something solid, yet soft. The pillow underneath your head shifts, and you mutter something under your breath in irritation as you reach up to hold it still.

The fabric you bunch up in your hand is soft, the feeling oddly familiar despite never having it close to your face before. You burrow your face deeper into it, inhaling the comforting scent. It smells like your detergent and your .. cat?

Your eyes snap open, at least long enough to see that what your resting your head on definitely isn’t a pillow, but rather Yoongi’s lap. You’re facing the TV, mirroring how Yoongi laid only the night before.

The room is too bright, forcing your bleary eyes closed again. Maybe the right thing would be to get up from Yoongi’s lap and go to bed, but you’re tired and surprisingly comfortable, and having to stand up and move sounds terrible. So you don’t.

Cautious fingertips run down the length of your hair, stroking your head gently. It feels nice – safe – something you haven’t felt in a while. You focus on the low purr that has started up in Yoongi’s chest, the sound relaxing your body even further. Your headache is all but forgotten, Yoongi’s tentative touches and low, soothing murmurs lulling you off into a peaceful sleep.

- - - -

Hello! Hope you enjoyed the seventh chapter of desolate! Things are going to be heating up from now on, so I hope you’re ready, hehe.

Hope you’re all well and my inbox is always open if you want to chat about the story or just fics or life in general! See you all soon! <3

[konggodzuko]

Momtara & Dadko

Hello! Back with some more fics, just in time for Zutara month!!! This one is a piece of an old WIP on mine, modified a but and chopped down, but I still think it’s a cute fluffy thing. Ao3 link 

Story:

When the airship had descended to about twenty feet above from the snowy airfield, several crew members rappelled out to the ground, meeting the airfield’s ground crew.

“—and now, the they will work together to use the ropes the aircrew came down on to pull the airship a few more feet and then fasten it down,” Zuko explained.

There was a burble in response, then a small, yet strong hand grabbed his hair and pulled.

Zuko barely reacted, only readjusting the baby in his arms before pulling the hand away from his hair, and muttering, “No, Ursa, don’t grab Daddy’s hair,” before smiling, “Well, you seem to be in a better mood now, Moon Peach. Come on, let’s get back to Mommy and your siblings.”

The father and daughter left the observation deck and made their way through the ship to the royal family’s cabin.

Zuko opened the door and was relieved to see that things had calmed down a bit from earlier. Twelve-year-old Kya was reading a well-worn copy of Love Amongst the Dragons, while seven-year-old Haruki was working on a large drawing of… something he couldn’t see from this angle, and three-year-old Kiviuq was playing with animal toys.

Katara was sitting by the cabin window, and alternated between reading a document — Zuko was fairly certain it was a report on Nationalist movements in the Fire Nation — and staring out the window with a slightly giddy expression.

The entire family was dressed in Water Tribe blues, but the parkas had been foregone as the airship was still warm. Splashes of purple, red and gold accented the blues, to pay homage to the family’s mixed heritage.

The room itself was stately and well-furnished — reflecting the scaled-back royal aesthetic Zuko had come to prefer, with a distinct Water Tribe influence in the decor — but still rather cramped for a family of six used to having a full palace to themselves.

Zuko entered the room and Katara looked over at him, “How is she?”

“She’s fine, we were watching the airmen and ground crew bring the ship in,” he tickled Ursa under her chin, causing her to squeal happily, “And Ursa found Daddy very interesting, right?”

“Mama!” Ursa suddenly called out through her giggles, “Mama!”

Katara put her scroll aside and walked over to the pair. Ursa held out her arms and made grabby hands, so Katara plucked her daughter from Zuko’s hands and began peppering kisses all over the baby’s face.

“It should just be a few minutes before we disembark.”

Katara pulled away from Ursa and said, “I hope so, I want to be out there already,” she smiled at Ursa and started to coo, “isn’t that right, Moon Peach? Mommy is soooo tired of this cabin, and I bet you are too!”

Zuko gave his wife a quick peck on the cheek before leaving the mom and daughter and moving to look over the shoulder of Haruki, “What’re you working on?” The drawing was clearly supposed to be a human, or at least humanoid, but the head looked odd, even for a seven-year-old’s drawing, colored a green-blue with big red eyes. It reminded him of an insect.

“It’s my costume!” Haruki proclaimed, “It’s what I’m gonna wear to fight bad guys!”

Zuko raised an eyebrow, “Oh?”

“Mmhmm!”

“Where’d you get this idea?”

Haruki turned, and looked at his dad with large eyes that sparkled in wonder, “Kya told me about the Blue Spirit and Painted Lady! And how they fought bad guys all over the Fire Nation after you became Firelord!” He gasped, “Did you ever meet them?”

Zuko glanced off to the side, internally cursing his oldest daughter’s obsession with history, then said, “Erm, once or twice.”

“Wow! How cool were they? Are they spirits? Or are they people? Oh! Or are they spirits and people combined? Oh—”

“Sorry, kiddo, but again, I only met them once or twice, and it was very quick. I know what they looked like, but not much else.”

Haruki’s face fell, “Awww…”

Zuko ruffled his son’s hair, then asked, “So why green?”

“‘Cause it’s my second favorite color besides blue! And the Blue Spirit’s already Blue, so I can’t be blue!”

“Ohhh, okay. Well, your drawing’s very, very good.”

“Thanks daddy!” He went back to furiously scribbling with crayons.

“Daddy!” Zuko felt a tug on his pant leg, and he looked down to see Kiviuq staring up at him, holding aloft a wooden dragon. Kiviuq smiled widely when he saw he had hid father’s attention, and then asked quietly, “Dragon breath?”

“Er,” he glanced at Katara who had shot him ‘The Look’, “sorry, Snowball, but dragon breath is an outside thing, remember? Ask me later, okay?”

Kiviuq pouted slightly (and boy could Zuko see Katara in their son’s pout) but said, “Okay…” and wandered back to his corner to continue playing with his toys.

Zuko glanced at Kya and grinned, but didn’t go over to her. She was nose-deep in a book, and he knew that any sort of “unnecessary” distraction would be barely acknowledged. It was how he used to get way back before his banishment, when he just loved to read.

He went back over to Katara, who was bounding Ursa on her knee, much to their daughter’s delight.

“Exited to be back home?” He asked, smiling.

Katara grinned broadly, “I’ve needed this for a while. Everything’s been so—” she waved her hand irritably, “everything in Caldera, I can already feel myself relaxing.”

“You realize that the Council will probably immediately request you to show up at sessions, right?”

She laughed, “That’s fine, I’d still much rather deal with fishery disputes than, well,” she gestured at the scroll she had been reading.

“It’s nothing new, right?” They had had a briefing about the current situation regarding Nationalist violence shortly before their departure. The scroll had arrived via messenger hawk about a day into their flight, along with several other documents that their ministers had deemed important enough to pass on.

She sighed, “Apparently they’re starting to leave the Fire Nation and set up shop in the Republic.”

Zuko pinched the bridge of his nose, “Of course they are,” he shook his head, “Well, nothing can be done about that right now.”

“True,” Katara said.

Their conversation was interrupted by Ursa, who yelled angrily and patted Katara’s knee, which had stopped bouncing at some point.

The parents chuckled, and Katara resumed a gentle bounce.

The family sat in quiet peace for a while as the crews worked to secure the airship so they could depart. Ursa eventually tired out and fell asleep on her mom, but after a few minutes Katara transferred her to Zuko, who had donned a sling to carry the sleeping baby. As the Firelady went back to the report she had b been reading, her husband strode around the room, rocking the baby to keep her asleep.

Eventually, there came a polite knock at the cabin door.

“Come in,” Katara said.

There was a creak as it opened to allow Qibolin, the airship’s captain, to step in. He fell into an immaculate bow and said, “Your Majesties, I am delighted to report that we have officially arrived in the Southern Water Tribe. It also appears that Chief Hakoda has already arrived to greet you.”

“Thank you, Qibolin,” Zuko said, as Katara was already pulling out the parkas and bundling up the children.

It took a few minutes to get everyone properly dressed, but soon the family was moving through the passageways and arrived at the starboard hatch, where a gangway had been extended to the ground. And at the base of the gangway, chatting with a few of the airmen who had rappelled down earlier, was —

“Grandpa!” Kya and Haruki yelled at the same time and shot down the ramp.

Zuko and Katara shouted a simultaneous and useless “Don’t run!” Kiviuq — held by Zuko — shouted and tried to follow his older siblings, but there was no way Zuko was going to let his tiny son toddle down the ramp on his own. Ursa — held by Katara — paid no mind and just snuggled into her mom’s neck.

“Kids!” Hakoda yelled joyfully and leaned at the bottom of the gangway, arms spread wide. Kya and Haruki crashed into him and he wrapped them up in a big hug.

Zuko and Katara gave each other tired looks before continuing down themselves.

[ichorruns]

( golshifteh farahani, cisgender female, she / her ) the city of gods is proud to welcome hel. she appears to be thirty eight years old and is the goddess of death from norse mythology. hel can be found working as the proprietor at a hole in the wall vintage shop and is amused by the death of zeus. (written by saint, twenty, they / them, cst.)

GENERAL INFORMATION . . .

name : hel

alias(es) : helena

title : norse goddess of death

apparent age : thirty-eight

pronouns : she/her

sexuality : bisexual

relationship status : single 

occupation : owner of lost & found, a hole in the wall vintage store

traits : aloof, sarcastic, cynical, genuine, good-hearted, introverted, well-spoken, clever.

BEFORE . . .

downward and northward. hel, for all her stubborn determination, cannot recall exactly what came before niflheim. logically — that is, in her logic —there must have been something! some sort of before bit prior to her responsibility over the dead of the nine worlds. she simply couldn’t fathom a reality in which there was nothing and then there was niflheim. 

and yet . . . niflheim is all she can remember. she can remember — if she focuses ever so carefully — the orders given to her. board and lodging. board and lodging to the old and the sick and the unremarkable sent to her dominion. the orders were the first of her many, many memories, and so she took them to heart. 

hel tried to taking special care of those sent to her; offered them board and lodging and, at first, care and compassion. however, the souls sent to her did not take so kindly to the death which she embodied, mournful and eternally regretting valhalla, which they had not earned. 

hel one day found herself grown cold and detached from the souls which she ruled over — for loving those who could scarcely spare her a passing thought wore down on her spirits. there was one, however, amidst the many, who offered her a bit of solace. baldr — beauty incarnate in the weary eyes of hel. he offered her kindness, a treatment the other souls of niflheim had refused her. she could understand why the living loved him so, and almost — just almost — considered releasing him from the underworld at frigg’s pleas. it was not right to keep someone so beloved from those who loved him! . . . but hel had grown selfish and fond of the man, and would only release him if every single being — alive and dead — wept for the man’s death. when they did not, and baldr was to remain at her side for eternity, she did not feel her deserved happiness . . . she only felt . . . guilt: gnawing and numbing and all encompassing.

 AFTER . . .

hel was less than impressed when knowledge of the city of gods reached her. what was a city compared to nine worlds? she had grown proud in her cynicism, and yet, with each passing day, she found that city — new crete, was it? — making it’s way into her thoughts more and more often.

she cannot remember what spurred the move, only that: one day there was niflheim, and the next there was new crete. in new crete she could start anew. 

lost & found began as merely a way to pass time, a side gig while she discovered what wonders new crete could offer. but her side gig became her main gig, and lost & found has stood proud as a local favorite “hole in the wall” vintage shop. 

still, hel kept to herself as she navigated the ever-growing city. when news of zeus’s death reached her doorstep, the goddess had a hard time hiding her amusement. the pompous bastard deserved it. perhaps, one day, the implications of the god’s death would dawn on the goddess, but for now . . .

POWERS . . . 

hel, despite the rather large domain under her command, is not as powerful as many of the other god’s inhabiting new crete. 

I . her most notable power is that of necromancy. as goddess of the underworld, she has complete control of the souls within her domain. should she will it, she can release a soul from niflheim to return and walk amongst the living once more. this process does, however, take a great toll on hel’s human form — both mentally, and physically. it is not something done often — or for free.

II . it is a grim gift — if one could even call it that — but hel can sense when death is near. she cannot determine the cause or exact time, but she can feel it’s proximity in her bones and who it comes for. furthermore, her touch can ease the pain of passing. since coming to crete, she has made it a point to assist any passing she may come across.

III . hel can also, as her domain resides over the nine worlds, understand and speak any spoken, written, or otherwise communicated language. if utilized for prolonged periods of time, it can leave hel with a nasty, thrumming migraine that only rest ( and laying off the powers ) can solve. 

IV . in a more general sense, hel is not as powerful in new crete as she is in niflheim. many of her powers do not extend to this realm, left behind in the halls of her many mansions. the price of her staying in new crete is that, more often than deemed “normal”, she finds her human form falling victim to illness or fatigue. any extraneous use of her powers only aggravates this.

MISCELLANEOUS FACTS & TID - BITS . . . 

I . my portrayal of hel is not an evil one ! instead of playing into any true evil archetypes, i’d say she’s more of a morally grey character — withdrawn, cold, and sometimes’s self serving, but fiercely loyal to those who have proven themself a friend. once you break through her icy exterior, she’s good company to have around — honest.

II . hel does not remember her family, nor does she remember the brief part of her childhood spent in jötunheimer. she does, however, remember what brief glimpse of odin she got before being exiled beneath the roots of yggdrasil to niflheim. she does not assume him family, but does feel a strange kinship for him. this fact shames her, considering it was his command that banished her to niflheim.

III . hel has an alias — a secret identity, if you will — for when she she interacts with mortals, or simply doesn’t want to be perceived as hel. the name helena struck her fancy — similar enough that it was still her, yet different enough that, when she so desired a break from hel, she could take one. she mainly uses it when interacting with mortals ignorant of the goings-on of new crete, or those outside new crete entirely.

ADMIN NOTE . . . 

as of now, i don’t have anything else to say beyond the contents of this post are subject to change as i portray and get to know hel through interactions! . . . that being said, feel free to hit me up if you want to plot or develop connections! i’m so excited to start getting to know her, and getting to know y’all and you’re lovely muses! 

[melodicnimue]

NIMUE, FEMALE, SHE/HER, PANSEXUAL, 146 is a SIREN in Hollywood. Some say that they resemble ANYA CHALOTRA. This one is known to be ENCHANTING but can be VICIOUS. They work as a MUSICAL ARTIST/SINGER-SONGWRITER. They have TAKEN their Oath with the Society. We hope that you’re prepared to do what you need to for fame. 

Born to a powerful siren in a mighty clan of sirens, Nimue had a lot of expectations trust her from the moment she was born. Her mother had chased her father away, believing he was too soft to co-parent her daughter. Her sole focus being on raising a female strong enough to take over her position in the clan when she deemed her fit. Thus the two had a more forced daughter-mother relationship from the very beginning, her mother always picking Nimue apart, dissecting her appearance, her behavior, her mannerisms, looking at her like a student and project without the love of a parent. This made Nimue both hard headed and at times very angry. In fact her anger often pushed her into situations she should never have been in, or created trouble she hadn’t actually intended for. She hardened her heart the best she could, trying to accept that the only way to gain a fraction of her mothers love, was to be as perfect a siren as she could be. Then again she was an unruly and mischievous child who liked to follow her own rules and had been taught that everyone else was beneath her. Such an attitude would not be reigned in easily. For the first four years of her life, Nimue made mistakes, but none so great that they could not be forgiven. That was until she lost her temper with an older siren and killed her in cold blood. While she soon regretted her actions, she refused to show that when her mother found out and had to be among those to pass the punishment. All her life she had learned that admissions of emotions were equal to showing weakness, and she would not show her mother she was weak. As sirens do not and can not tolerate the killing of their own kind, Nimue was banished from the ocean, forced to land and warned that she would be killed if she returned to the sea. Unknown to Nimue, her mother had struck an agreement with Kanopia Vallas, asking her to raise her daughter as she could no longer do so. 

The sentence made the young siren furious, and as she was escorted out of the sea, she had intended on taking her wrath out on the first human or being she came across. Instead she was faced with an ancient vampire, telling her she was to come with her. At first Nimue was, as all small children tend to be, petulant and untrusting of a stranger. Though as she realized how deadly and strong Kanopia was, she decided to ask her to fulfill the one burning desire of vengeance she held in her heart. She wanted her mother dead, and to her excitement the vampire was happy to oblige. Over time, Nimue better understood what being a ward meant. Being around the ruling vampires, able to become almost as powerful and well taken care of. While Nimue was not in the slightest interested in finding family or friends, she had to admit that the chance of gaining more power, of leaving her mark, of being important, that called to her. And while she’s not loyal by nature, what the Vallas family gave her was invaluable to her. And in return she swore she would look out for them like they had looked out for her. 

Growing up as a ward only solidified her independence and hardened heart, but then again, it was not love she was after. Even in her twenties when she declared she needed to travel and see more of the world on her own, it was not to find love or connection to others. It was simply to gain knowledge and experience she could use to her own advantage. Not to mention to find alliances in others that she might need down the road. Since her late thirties Nimue has thrived as a musical artist, using her siren voice along with her singing voice, to entrance and gather quite the fan base, effectively becoming a star in the US, and as her fame grew, world wide as well. One wouldn’t think it by looking at her, but she writes a lot of her own songs, being quite deft with words and languages. While she finds recording quite dull, she loves performing and has dipped her toes into musicals and acting in order to gain more time on the stage, never tiring of adoring crowds or crazy fans. Although Nimue is mostly focused on herself and her own fame and influence, she is loyal to the Vallas family and betrothed to further their political alliances in the city. She also uses her influence and platform to aid the family whenever they need her to, and she would never turn down a request from them unless it would hurt her own image. What Nimue hungers for the most is power. She lost that when her mother banished her from the sea, and she has not forgotten. And while being a ward of one of the two ruling vampire families has given her both status and power she otherwise could not have gained, she constantly finds herself hungry for more. The more power she feels she has, the happier and satisfied she finds herself being. Despite how she has thrived and how successful she is, she still is someone you do not want to get on the bad side of. Unless you are a Vallas or Charbonneau, you do wisely not to piss her off. Her temper is still something she struggles to fully control and if you get on her nerves, or in her way, she will unleash her wrath upon you until you wish you had never been born. And if you happen to be someone out of her reach or stronger, she will use her influence and her alliances that she has spent the better part of the last 140 years building and nurturing. She is not one to cross, while she is also someone valuable to have on your side. 

[abraxos-is-toothless]

Undercover- Throne of Glass AU (1)

This was meant to go up Friday but my new laptop turned up late, and from now on the schedule should be a Thursday/Friday.

Warnings: Swearing and brief mentions of violence. I’ll update these as the story progresses.

Prologue.

Full Masterlist.

—————

Aelin couldn’t help but grin from as she watched her family bicker amongst themselves. They were in the house they all used for small gatherings including family dinner and movie night or for when they were waiting for new recruits to arrive, such as now.  She was sat at the edge of the room in her window seat where she could see every exit and could have her eyes on every person in the room. Manon and Dorian were sparring in the middle of the room, neither one of them managing to keep the other down for very long before they were at each other’s throats once more.

Aedion and Lysandra were curled up on the loveseat together, the dark haired girl giggling at whatever her cousin had just whispered in her ear, which in turn made Aelin want to smile and gag at the same time. Elide was cleaning her gun as she sat on the floor between Ren’s legs as he braided the girls hair. And last but not least, Chaol was currently fussing over a pregnant Yrene who would bat his hands away and kept threatening to poison him if he didn’t stop.

The last group of muscle they had hired turned out to be undercovers that Aedion convinced her should be left alive, unfortunately, not to mention that they were absolutely fucking useless considering their backgrounds. This time around, Aelin allowed Elide to do the search because the girl was not only capable of killing a man twice her size in under a minute; she was also the biggest nerd and hacker amongst them. Her second in command had pulled through, and when she came to Aelin a few days ago to show her the files, she was told she could have whatever new knives she wanted for such an amazing find. The smaller girl had grinned that awful grin which even terrified Manon sometimes.

Everyone was on alert in a second at the sound of the doorbell and had moved into place by time it had stopped ringing through the house. Aelin was now seated behind her desk with her feet up and hands folded across her stomach.

Celaena Sardothien was present now.

The others were spread about the room, her cousin to her right and Elide to her left, while Lysandra went to greet the new recruits. It would have been Yrene once upon a time, but Celaena refused to let her when she told everyone about the baby. That was their one rule. You do not harm a child. And the gods fucking help you if you do.

Lys came back into the room and wiggled her brows at Celaena before moving to stand beside Ren at the back as five very tall, tanned and muscled men came through just behind her. The first to enter was the man she knew to be one Rowan Whitehorn, sporting an incredibly bored look, much like his second. Lorcan Salvaterre was right on his heels, followed closely by the rest of this little band of misfits. The twins, Fenrys and Connall, she remembered, were the only one with smiles on their faces. Mischievous was a correct description. Vaughan was quiet and looked quite shy on the outside, but she knew he was calculating and planning as he scanned the room and the people inside of it. The last to enter was Gavriel. She hadn’t noticed before, you can’t ever see things in photos, but as he stood before her now in the flesh, there was a familiarity about him that she couldn’t place exactly.

Celaena smirked, making an obvious show of looking them up and down as she spoke, “Gentlemen, welcome. It’s so lovely to finally meet you all.”

They all gave a short bow of their heads with a muttered “Miss Sardothien”.

Manon snorted at that and was promptly glared at when it didn’t go unnoticed by the men before her. The witch rolled her eyes and went back to looking at her nails as if she was entirely uninterested, yet she was the complete opposite.

“Please boys, ignore the formalities. You may call me Celaena,” each of them were clearly about to nod once more but she continued before they could, “if you can survive one little test.”

oOoOo

Rowan was now regretting this whole assignment. Sardothien was an entitled brat that clearly thought this whole thing was a god damned game. She was nineteen years old and had somehow inherited Rhoe Galathynius' empire. It would have made sense to go to Ashryver, being one of the only living relatives Rhoe had left. The whole thing was absurd if you asked him and he couldn’t wait until he and the Cadre had taken everything apart piece by piece.

He wouldn’t let her know how he felt so through gritted teeth he asked, “A test, Miss Sardothien?”

Celaena stood and walked around to the other side of her desk and leaned back against it, still smiling. Rowan didn’t think that he liked that smile which quite clearly said trouble was brewing.

“Yes Whitehorn, a test. Am I not allowed to test people who wish to work for me as I see fit?”

Fucking hell, if this carried on then the mission would be over faster than they expected because he had killed her. “Of course you are. I apologise if I made it sound otherwise.”

He received nothing other than a raised brow and quick once over.

Bitch.

“As I was saying before I was interrupted, if you pass this little test, you’re all hired. If not, well, you won’t be suited here.”

Holding back an eye roll at something as childish as a test, he conceded, “What test ma’am?”

“See how polite this one is Havilliard, why have you never called me ‘ma’am’?” she called out to one Dorian Havilliard, who Rowan knew to be Celaena’s mercy killer. He had the unfortunate job of killing one of their members if any of their injuries were too severe to treat. No matter what business they may be in, he felt for the man and hoped he’d never have to do such a thing for one of his own. He banished the thought when he heard Dorian scoff before her Royal Highness continued.

“If your second here can last at least five minutes in a sparring match against my own second, we have a deal.”

Lorcan, ever one to prove he was better than most, agreed before Rowan could say anything and that time he did roll his eyes.

“Done.” He sneered as he turned to the right of the woman to face Aedion and beckoned for him to come forward. Within seconds of that display the whole room began laughing and more importantly, Blackbeak full on cackled as she noticed their shocked faces. He realised why when a strong feminine voice full of mockery and laughter said;

“I’m over here sweetheart.”

He turned to see Elide Lochan in all her tiny glory, giving his second a smile that even sent shivers down his own spine. There wasn’t much about her in the file they had, just that she was an excellent techy and had disposed of her own Uncle after he tried to sell her off into some underground prostitution ring over in France. No wonder she was second in command when she was so inconspicuous. He should have guessed.

Rowan had barely any time to process the information before she moved faster than he could blink, landing a powerful left hook to Lorcan’s jaw which resulted in his ass meeting the floor.

oOoOo

Having a woman hand him his ass should not have turned Lorcan on, but by the gods it did.

She was a feisty little fireball and Lorcan hadn’t had such a tiring workout since that day six years ago when Whitehorn had nearly killed him and beat him black and blue. He had been an angry, hateful mess after the accident and no one could out last that icy rage for very long. So he had endured it full force until the silver haired had broken down in his arms.

Sardothien did indeed call time after what were a very long five minutes and the two of them were left panting and sweaty in the middle of the room, gazes locked. Lorcan wished it was a different activity that had left them that way.

Enough Salvaterre, you’re here to take them down. No fucking the enemy.

“I’m impressed. Nobody ever lasts even two against Elide, not even the Wolf over there.” The bitch queen jerked her thumb over her shoulder to where Ashryver was standing, who simply flipped her off. Many would have been killed by their bosses for such behaviour, but apparently everything worked differently here.

This was going to be difficult.

“Ren you shit stain, show them to their rooms. You’ll be on the first floor along with Manon, Dorian, Lys and Aedion. They’re very loud lovers so I hope you brought ear plugs with you.” She said it with a smile and wiggled her fingers in goodbye as they were ushered out of the room by a man with a scar on his face. Just before the door closed, Lorcan saw the swagger facade drop as Celaena fussed over her second, worry written on her face as she turned the dark haired woman’s face this way and that way.

Each individual room was pointed out to them by Ren as they passed, he didn’t look too happy to be given the job though. The twins were in the room closest to the stairs, next to them was Vaughan and Gavriel and then himself on his own followed by Rowan’s own closest to the next flight of stairs up. They stopped outside of Rowan’s room before they were allowed to disperse and were given a few ground rules as if they were dogs.

“Boss says you can use the ground floor as you wish; watch a movie, read a book or whatever. You are not to go up to the second floor with permission from Lochan or the Boss herself. Most of us have our own houses so we won’t all be here twenty for hours. The only permanent ones for now will be the Boss, Lochan, the Westfalls and myself. Any questions?”

They all shook their heads which was apparently deemed acceptable.

“Good. Take the day to get yourselves situated; we’re all having dinner at seven, if you can call it that. Don’t be late.”

He nodded before disappearing back down the stairs and Rowan addressed them now that they were alone.

“Get unpacked and sorted.  I want you mingling to your heart’s content tonight, the faster they trust us, the faster their empire falls. Understood?”

They each murmured a “Yes Sir” before walking back to their own respective rooms and Fenrys and Connall went to the stairs to go get their bags from the car. Just before he could turn the handle to his room, he stopped when Rowan spoke again, all seriousness and a stern look.

“Oh and Lorcan? Keep your fucking dick out of tiny, short tempered ladies please. I will not allow us to fail because your hormones led you astray.”

Vaughan chuckled under his breath while Gavriel just shook his head, the twins already out of hearing distance, thank fuck.

A woman had never messed with his morals before and he certainly wasn’t going to let such a thing happen this time.

Not now and not ever.

—————

I hope you like my baby Badass Elide and Horny Lorcan;) If you want to be added/removed from the tags just give me a shout!!

Tags: @bryaxisthefaceofnightmares @fancyclodpaintercookie @empress-sei @acourtofterrasenandvelaris @tswaney17 @queen-of-glass @thesirenwashere @awkward-avocado-s @b00kworm @http-itsrebecca @eatmysandwiches @poisonous00 @flowersinvegas @julemmaes @mu-si-ca-l @spyofthenightcourt @sis-it-dont-add-up

[mk-wizard]

Transformers Identified Factions

Note that the following is mostly fanlore (including mine) and not official in any way possible. I take no credit for anything and this is all good clean fun.

Quintessons – The oldest identified faction of which all other factions can be traced back to in recorded history. The defining trait of all Quintessons is the green insignia, green optics, clear voices that sound organic and how a vast majority of them have the alien type frame although some of them have had doll or data type frames. No Quintesson bears the wrecker or beast frames though. Not much is known about their culture beyond the fact that code has a huge influence on their society and they are governed by a Grand Judge who is both a political and spiritual ruler. They originate from the planet Quintessa which itself is a strange and they have their own language though they also speak Cybertronian fluently enough. As far as everyone knows, Quintessons are sadistic, evil and their government is not above shady dealings or abusing power to the point where the very people they rule are victims. No one including other Transformers dares to have dealings with them for this reason.

Autobot – Their ancestors were once Quintessons, but one day, the twin prophet sisters Prima and Trinity began a new era for Transformers. Prima was given the Autobot matrix making her the first Autobot leader and Trinity was given the Trion program of wisdom. The defining trait of an Autobot are the red weeping face insignia, blue optics, voices which have an echo tone and how the majority of them have the data body type. They were guided to the planet that would become Cybertron and Autobots have prospered for generations. Tradition states that Autobots would be ruled first by a Prime who comes into power through a hierarchy similar to how Earth royalty to (from the parent to the child), and second by a Trion who comes into power after being trained from very young by the previous one and finally having the Trion program installed into them when they are deemed as ready. Overall, Autobots are a kind and well-meaning race, but they are not without their flaws. They can be a little too proud of tradition and most if not all are very set in their ways and resistant to change even when meant for the better. This has caused two tragic events of which a large group wanted change and even got hostile over it. The first was with the Autbots who would later become GoBots who proposed several notions and opinions that got labeled as heresy. While each side tells a different story on how this social battle went on, what is fact is that the heretic Autbots eventually left Cybertron with most of (what was at the time) the young generation following which had a huge impact on Cybertron for years to come. This resulted in GoBots and Autobots remaining cold and unfriendly to each other to this day. The second case is the more current one being their war with the Decepticons who have also challenge the Autobot way except they merely deem the Prime line as weak and the Trion program as unneeded as knowledge should be for everyone. This makes it clear that while Autobots allow freedom and are a culture based on kindness, they can be rigid towards the idea of change and feel easily threatened by power balances. In fact, it is actually deemed as sin in their code to spark bond with another being who is not an Autobot. As of now, the war between Autobots and Decepticons is cold as Autobots have retaken and rebuild Cybertron and all Decepticons have been banished. To this day they make no contact with each other unless it is for trade reasons.

Decepticon – They were once Autobots, but they converted and renamed themselves. The defining trait of all Decepticons are the purple insignia, red optics, mechanical voices, the ability to fly in robot form and how their culture is centered around combat. They are hostile and believe in survival of the fittest. They reject the Prime lineage deeming it as weak due to the history of irresponsible Primes which lead to several bad outcomes such as the GoBot incident in history and class division where Decepticons were once lower class Autobots who were impoverished and starving. They also deem the presence of a Trion as outdated as knowledge should be for everyone not just one individual. They too are ruled by a single leader who by tradition is always named Megatron if a mech or Megara if a femme and the title of leader is passed on from parent to child. However, if a Megatron or Megara passes on and has no heirs or heiresses, leadership is passed on to the second in command. Despite their aggression, Decepticon society is not without redeeming qualities such as how they are not concerned with social class, they believe is alt mode autonomy which means you can choose any alt mode you want regardless of your job, they believe the way one practices code is their own business and they even allow bots to practice Atheism if they wish, and most notably, Decepticons are open to allowing other to live among them civilly without the requirement of identifying as Decepticons themselves. In fact, it is not uncommon for many Decepticons to identify as rogues and for a few Autobots and even GoBots to fight or live among Decepticons. The only requirement is that they obey the leader, respect the law and cause no trouble. The Decepticon way is an attempt to better society for Transformers by abandoning old traditions that are actually hurting it such as deeming interfactional marriage as sin, having the holy texts only available to clergy, class division and at times, the Prime ruling system. However, it has exchanged one hierarchy for another, poverty is still a huge problem and other personal freedoms have been compromised causing social disarray at times. After the great war, the Decepticons failed to take control of Cybertron and went on to find refuge on their own planet known as Megalas and it is currently in disarray as it is still finding its footing.

GoBot – Like Decepticons, their ancestor were once Autobots though their journey towards making their own faction was a gradual process. The definding traits of all GoBots are organic looking eyes that come in various colours save for blue, a blue insignia of different variations in order to designate their job, the ability to fly is robot mode and alt mode if it too is that of a living being, and their frame type only comes in doll type. While most of the history between GoBots and Autobots is shrouded in mystery with no one truly being sure of who was the victim and who was the villain, this much is fact. During the reign of Vector Prime, a group of Autobots began to question some of the traditions and practices that seemed outdated and rather unjust after seeing how life on other planets was like. Most notably how it did not make sense to deem interfactional marriage as a sin, that the one and only connection to Primus is through energon and how an Autobot cannot choose whichever alt mode they want even if it has no impact on their job. Things got more heated when this group began to question the way the clergy was set up so that they had access to the holy texts when knowledge of Primus should be for everyone especially the prayers. They also began to question if the Prime system was truly efficient and that perhaps such a large planet ought to incorporate democratic elements such as voting and that perhaps there should even be more than just two leaders. This group got labeled as heretics and they in turn rebelled for many years until they left and went on to build their own faction on the planet known as GoBototron taking most of the younger generation with them though it is not known if this was part of some scheme or the younger generation left of their own accord. Currently, Gobots are an entirely democratic society ruled by a president, vice president and twenty senators and they delve scientific research, scientific exploration and fine art. They consider the bond Transformers have with Primus as spiritual rather than physical so they have long since given up energon including in their veins for a blue electrocharged substance they call lifeblood which mimics organic blood. They need only to fuel themselves with sunlight, water and a healthy diet of minerals. They have based much of their technological development on plant life and they have even melded the two by perfecting plant based plastic which is made everyone and even makes up their bodies. In fact, the only metal you will ever find on GoBototron is in your plant or on their techno-organic plants. GoBots themselves are made entirely out of plastic alloys. The most obvious one being plasmetal which hence its name imitates metal, but is much more lightweight, has none of the toxic properties and it is biodegradable. The biggest drawback in their society is that they are not warriors and due to abandoning metal and much of the warrior related traditions, the only trained defenses they have are their military and even with their advances technology in barriers and medicine, they are no match for other Transformer factions. In fact, any GoBot who isn’t part of the military doesn’t have armor as part of their wardrobe program. To this day, GoBots and Autbots keep their distance from each other and most of them are unfriendly and cold towards each other.

Other Factions? – The existence of other Transformer factions is one that has been highly debated across all communities. While most of them are skeptical, archeologists have confirmed that at one time, there may have been others in the past at least as some artifacts with unidentified insignias have been found though even then, it was debated that these insignias only designated roles or social standing. It is also possible that like with the Autobots, other Transformers who were once Quintessons went on to make their own factions or that there were and may still be factions that have no ties to the Quintessons. The most radical theory of all is that during the generations long worth of war between Autobots and Decepticons is that some bots from both sides would sneak away and their descendants went on to find their own factions. Of course, all of this is merely theory.

[fortitudinem]

                    ISLE POLITICAL/SOCIAL HIERARCHY

This post is about the social structure of The Isle of the Lost, especially in relation to Maleficent and focusing mainly on the villains instead of the VKs. 

 Maleficent rules the Isle. This was accepted by everyone and came into being at roughly the time of her rebellion. Maleficent was the one responsible for rallying the villains together to try and fight back against Auradon and even when they lost the rebellion, she kept her spark. She is seen as the most powerful being on the Isle who wants control and even without magic, she commands legions of goblins and other minions. Very little happens on the Isle that she doesn't know about. It is considered that her word on a matter is law and her judgement is final, as in the case of Queen Grimhilde and Evie being banished. Maleficent gets final say in whether someone deserves respect. Respect is generally offered on the basis of crimes and magic. The worse your crime, or the more magical you are (usually both) determined the level of respect you can expect to receive.

 Under Maleficent there is, Mal, first and foremost. Not exactly considered her right hand, but as her daughter Mal is offered protections that other Isle residents are not. She gets away with a lot more and it is generally considered that she 'rules' the Isle from the ground, where Maleficent is hardly ever seen. Mal's presence is a very clear threat of Maleficent hearing about something and it is treated as such.

Maleficent also has goblin minions and some troll-like henchmen that accompany her everywhere, as a show of power. no-one has been stupid enough to try and pickpocket her, or worse, but it wouldn't look good if she did get harmed or stolen from and it might show a weakness that she can't afford, so Maleficent surrounds herself with these henchmen and they are also a more visible presence in the streets. People know to steer clear of them.

Maleficent's close company is considered to be Jafar, Cruella and the Evil Queen (now all the birthday party business is dealt with). These villains are considered to be some of the worst, and therefore the best by Isle standards. The actual level of respect they get from the younger generation, however, is limited only by their own physical abilities. Jafar's store is stolen from, and unless he catches the thieves this crime usually goes unpunished and uninvestigated by anyone but him. Cruella is openly mocked by most, kids will dare each other to play pranks on her. Cruella gains respect by being afraid of no-one, though, she shows no mercy for anyone, regardless of their own status or parentage. She's known for doling out harsh punishments. To some, that just makes it more of a challenge. The Evil Queen was a social pariah for many years and most people have long forgotten any status she might once have held. Their affiliation with Maleficent is tangental, they are closer to allies than friends.

Outside of Maleficent's close personal friends there are also other villains who are deemed worthy of respect. The list contains; Maleficent, Mother Gothel, The Evil Queen, Shan-Yu, Claude Frollo, Lady Tremaine, Jarfar, Chernabog, Governor Ratcliffe, Madame Medusa,  Ursula, Gaston, Scar, Stromboli, the Big Bad Wolf, Prince John, Hades, Cruella De Vil, Captain Hook, Aunt Sarah, Amos Slade, Kaa and Shere Khan (mal's spell book). These are people who have allied themselves with Maleficent, most are business owners, or are powerful in some other way, like commanding a large group (the huns, the pirates). Some have simply chosen to bend the knee in exchange for respect.

Outside of this list, there are a number of villains who have deemed themselves worthy of respect and strongly enforce it, but who do not come up on Maleficent's list. A lot of these villains are ones who believe that they should have a larger share of the pie, so to speak. The Queen of Hearts, Bill Sykes, Madam Mim, The Horned King, Prince Hans of the Southern Isles, Rattigan, Yzma and Doctor Facilier are all excluded from Maleficent's list but all command a certain amount of respect regardless. 

Facilier is the headmaster of Dragon Hall and also owns the arcade, which is the only business of its kind on the Isle as fun is not often considered a priority. This encouragement for people to take time off and even feel happy for short periods of time is something considered strange on the Isle, as such he is placed on the outskirts of society, despite being a powerful magic user and an influential figure in the lives of the Isle children. 

Madam Mim is in charge of the 'witch faction', which isn't looking to take over the Isle, but is instead committed to teaching the would-be magic users how their powers will eventually work when the barrier is gone. They mostly keep to themselves and are deemed worthy of respect mostly due to their volatility. They have sectioned off their own area of the Isle, Maleficent pretends like it was her idea all along. Most people who aren't magic users don't enter the witches' quarter. 

The Queen of Hearts, The Horned King, Bill Sykes, Prince Hans and Yzma all consider themselves to be in charge of their own section of the Isle, under their terms. Hans and Yzma do not have gangs, but have merely claimed their own buildings and operate out of them without much desire to intermingle with the rest of the Isle. The others, however, have loftier expectations. 

The Horned King has a handful of Cauldron Born at his beck and call, he owns a shop at the furthest end of the market, as far from Maleficent's tower as he can get. The Cauldron Born are unliving, they patrol around the Isle, especially at night, and are some of the scariest things to meet in a dark alley. They are hard foes to fight. Luckily, they mostly stay inside the cauldron repair shop. Being on the Isle, the magic that holds them won't sustain, so if they are smashed to pieces, they will perish, this has stopped the Horned King from taking over completely. 

Bill Sykes has made a name for himself as something of a businessman on the Isle. He has built a small empire, though he has little desire to control the Isle as a whole, he prefers to manipulate from behind the scenes. His chop shop is the only place on the Isle to go for scrapped metal goods. He melts down scrap. It can be turned into wiring, metalware and most importantly, coins. (currency post here). Sykes is responsible for all metal coins created on the Isle and as such he is in a perfect position to also operate what is essentially a bank of sorts. He has influence all over the Isle and everyone trades with him, but he has not sworn loyalty to Maleficent and therefore is under his own protection. But that protection is usually very good, so he doesn't have much to worry about. His reputation as ruthless and violent precedes him in most instances. He has close ties with the Hearts. 

The Hearts are exiled from Wonderland and the Queen still thinks of herself as such. She strives for the day she can be returned to her seat of power. But while on the Isle she refuses to accept Maleficent's rule and lives in her own corner of the Isle, the only place where plants really grow. The family have set up a lot of different trades, a hair salon, a tea shop and they sell tonics and tinctures. But on top of that, they also have a close deal with Sykes where they create playing card money, which act like bank notes, backed by his currency. (see currency post above). Respect for the Hearts is demanded and taken by force if necessary. (Edgar Balthazar serves as runner between Sykes and The Hearts and also has been taken on as a butler in the Heart Household.) 

Rattigan has a gang that runs the transportation links for the Isle, they're known as the daredevil crew. the transport on the isle is most goblin rickshaws, but there are also humans who attack similar rickshaws to rebuilt and repurposed bicycles as a faster way to get around. They are considered an essential service, but are loyal to no-one in particular. 

These are, of course, just the villains. Amongst the villains, each has their own sidekick, who is afforded only as much protection as they themselves are able to generate, with the added benefit of having the name of a major villain added to their list. A well liked sidekick is more likely to be well taken care of, but one who shuns their villain or distances themselves without joining up with a new or secondary villain is likely to struggle on the Isle unless they can prove themselves. It for this reason people like Horace and Jasper are still following Cruella’s orders, even though they have publicly denounced her previously.  

Below even the sidekicks are the minor criminals, people who have no magical powers, who are attribute to no meaningful story. Murderers, thieves and ruffians of all varieties who were indiscriminately thrown onto the Isle who have little protection but what they can give themselves. These make up the majority of prisoners on the Isle.

As times move on and the children of the major villains (and minor criminals) begin to grow into their own, this creates a new power dynamic. Some of these children want to grab territory and power for themselves, like Uma. After twenty years a lot of the villains have become jaded and a lot of them are using their children as extensions of themselves, those who fall out of favour with or choose to denounce their parents (Uma, Harry etc) are forced to make their own way, but the new blood and a renewed sense of spirit can lend themselves to becoming a force to be reckoned with. Especially when the older generation are old, unhealthy and slowing down (for those who are human).

The gangs of the villain’s children are more likely to clash with each other, creating in-fighting and turf wars that the parents simply aren’t involved with and don’t care about. Ruling over an island of garbage is looking less and less enticing by the day and if the kids want to argue over trash heaps, the consensus is to simply let them. Ultimately, no-one is besting Maleficent or kicking her off her throne. Until, of course, Mal does.

Following the defeat of Maleficent and the disappearance of her cronies, the potential factions quickly fall to fighting, each trying to grab up as much territory as they can. The six months following Maleficent’s defeat is full of battles for land and resources, by the time Mal returns to the Isle, most people have succumbed to one leader or another.

After Uma leaves there is a grab for her territory that is swiftly beaten back by her crew, lead by Harry Hook. The next year is spent fighting small battles for the edges of constantly shifting territory, until the removal of the barrier, whereupon everyone who was fighting for territory leaves the Isle in order to try and return themselves to their former glory. The Isle is left for the taking. ( i subscribe to the uma as queen of the isle after d3, but that’s entirely up to personal preference. )

[catulla-claudia]

Callixta Claudia Catulla

“Callixtus Claudius Valerius, look me in the eye and tell me you’re not going to be as shit of a brother as you are a politician.”

General information

Known as

Callixta Claudia Catulla: Legal name

Catulla: Commonly known as

Cat: Nickname

Callis Maxim: Pseudonym

Lady Catulla: Title

Occupation

Painter

Noblewoman

Favorites

Favorite meal: Saltimbocca

Favorite drink: White wine

Favorite flower: Carnation

Personality traits

Birthday: November 16

Age: 29

Zodiac sign: Scorpio

MBTI: ISFP

Pronouns: She/her

Main(s): Lucio

Patron Arcana: Knight of Swords

Relatives

Callixtus Claudius Valerius: The Consul, her elder brother, known most commonly as Valerius. She dislikes his general connivery, whilst he believes her too soft and still resents her for their mother’s death, but they still share a sense of comradery over their father’s political designs for both of them.

Cato Claudius Maximus: Father, the patriarch of the Claudius family and previous Consul of Vesuvia before his death during the Red Plague, usually simply known as Consul Maximus. Her cognomen was derived from his praenomen of Cato.

Poppaea Valeria Maximii: Mother of Catulla and Valerius, her marriage with her husband was rare amongst nobles as it was for love, and she died giving birth to Catulla, one of the main sources of contention between Cat and her brother and father.

Gens Claudia: Patrician family to which Catulla belonged, descended from her father. Several generations before her birth, her ancestors had changed the laws of Vesuvia that made the title of Consul a hereditary title passed down through the Claudii clan rather than an elected role after generations previous of bribery and political plotting that kept the Claudii clan in power as Consuls.

Gens Valeria: Patrician family to which Catulla’s mother belonged and for whom her elder brother was named after.

Physical description

Gender: Female

Height: 5′2′’

Eye color: Hazel

Hair color: Black with blue-silver ombre

Appearance

Cat is a petite woman who looks to be in her early to mid twenties, with an elegant yet unrestrained air, described as being "all the wild beauty of a garden". Her hair is black, with the ends dyed into a blue-silver ombre, and she has hazel eyes, a shade or two darker than her brother’s. She’s said to resemble her mother greatly, being fine-boned, with large eyes and a straight nose. She has a beauty mark on her left cheek. She loves high-collared lace and silk shirts, as well as floral patterns and puffed and gathered sleeves.

Personality

Unlike her brother, Cat doesn't like the idea of manipulating others or being a chess piece. As a result, she'd also expressed a desire for a simple life, content to live off her family inheritance as a philanthropist and patron of the fine arts as well as expand her own crafts as an artist. While her family exults in power and influence, her motivations lean more towards living life on her own terms. Some part of her resents her family for their insistence in playing at the game of politics, though it’s often overpowered by her internalization of her father’s neglect of her during her childhood. She’s only ever really soft and open when it comes to art-- at the rest of times, her personality is seen as sarcastic or snippy, with a hatred for flattery and strictly no-nonsense, often fidgeting or becoming anxious when there’s nothing for her to do. However, Catulla can be just as manipulative and ruthless, able to read people like they’re open books even without the help of magic or a tarot deck, as she was born and raised as a Claudii after all-- she simply dislikes politics. That doesn't mean she's bad at it.

History

Family background

Catulla was born as Callixta Claudia Catulla, of the Claudius family. Catulla was named after her father, whose name was Cato Claudius Maximus, known vernacularly as Consul Maximus. She had one elder brother, Callixtus Claudius Valerius, known vernacularly as Valerius, three years her senior.

The Claudii were one of the oldest and most noble of Vesuvia’s families, with members frequently holding the highest offices of the state, and had over the course of several generations, seized control of the office of Consul to the point it became a hereditary title passed down through the family rather than an elected one as it was initially intended.

Consul Maximus and his wife, Poppaea Valeria, were arranged to be married, but unlike most nobles, they were deeply in love, and Poppaea was often said to be the power behind Consul Maximus’s hand, and was also quite well-respected by the people of Vesuvia.

Childhood

Catulla was named for her father, whilst her elder brother was named for her mother’s family. Her mother, Poppaea Valeria, died giving birth to her-- as a result, her father and brother had resented her for this, and her father treated her coldly during her childhood, heaping all his aspirations onto her elder brother, with Catulla being forgotten in the shadows.

As a result, Catulla was raised mostly by tutors and servants, keeping mostly to herself during her childhood, the shamed daughter of the Consul hidden away in the Claudius estate. It was during this time she gained an appreciation for the arts-- cooped up in such a large manor with a lush garden and vineyard, she found herself often staying out to sketch the sceneries and making different studies of the servants at work as well.

Adolescence

By the time she was around thirteen or fourteen, she was deemed talented and useful enough by her father to send her away abroad to study the arts-- once again, out of sight and out of mind. She spent the next few years travelling to places like Firent, Zadith, and Prakra, studying the painting, architecture, and sculpture of each of the different cultures, returning back to Vesuvia when they were around nineteen with a wealth of knowledge.

Adulthood

Catulla was introduced at court by her father at the wedding of Count Lucio to Nadia Satrinava, alongside her elder brother-- she was around twenty at that time. Later, she received note from town gossip that the Count was looking to commission an artist for his official portraits.

Determined to win the commission, Catulla had worked in secrecy and submitted her sample work to the palace under the pseudonym of Callis Maxim, unwilling to throw around her family reputation. It was to her pleasure and surprise that she was notified, a month later, of her winning the commission.

Catulla had informed her father of her new occupation and then without waiting for his protest or permission, promptly moved into guest apartments in the Vesuvian Palace, where she would stay for the next year as she worked on a painting of the Count as seen in the Arcana game, standing proudly over the skull of a dead beast, with mountains in the background

Court Painter

He was apparently so pleased with her work that she’d been promoted to the Court Painter, whereupon she had been tasked with painting a myriad of things, mostly for his vanity projects-- paintings of him, paintings of his menagerie of pets.

Over time, Catulla had befriended him, or, as much as anyone could befriend the count, being referred to affectionately as “Cat” by him, and something of a one-sided infatuation had sprung up, with Cat having held a soft spot for him despite his selfish tendencies due to his love and care for his pets, though she made sure he had remained unaware of this, and he was in the meanwhile having an affair with her brother.

When the Red Plague swept the city, she’d been horrified at his inaction, distancing herself from him and calculatedly cutting off any form of their previous friendliness towards each other-- her last commission was the painting of the feast in the dining hall, and the grim and ominous composition was a manifestation of her disappointment and bitter anger towards him. She’d given it to him as a parting gift, alongside a resignation letter.

The Red Plague

Catulla intended to leave court for fear of Lucio’s wrath after reading her resignation letter; however, she had been called back by the Countess, who’d asked her to help her and Doctor Devorak improve the quality of life in Vesuvia through public works projects, something she’d studied as an architectural student in Prakra at one point.

When the Count contracted the plague as well, she’d taken over this public works project as Julian was tasked to find a cure; during her meetings with the courtiers, she’d learned from her brother, acting Interim Consul, that their father had also contracted the plague.

Masquerade

At one point, Catulla had suffered a breakdown from the stress and vanished mysteriously, to the chagrin of her brother, it was this that prevented her from being present at the Masquerade where Lucio was murdered.

It was later revealed that just before the masquerade, she’d decided to run away from Vesuvia, no longer able to withstand the pressures of running the public works project, or the fear for her father and the Count despite her better judgement. She had moved around over the next three years from here to there, working as a painter for tourists and passerby, her pride preventing her from returning to Vesuvia and asking her brother for help.

Aftermath

She was later found to be living in Nevivon by Lucio, newly freed from his Devils’ bargain and banished by Nadia from Vesuvia no less, selling portrait miniatures or scenic paintings to tourists and passerby on the street. She couldn’t recall him, not even able to put a name to his face-- this had prompted him to bring her back to the palace despite Nadia’s threats of punishment to see her own artworks hanging up over the halls, hoping to prompt her memory to return.

It was there she’d run into her brother, shocked to see her alive and well for all those years, and shocked even more to see Lucio of all people with her, who he’d called the guards on, running him out of the palace once again.

Despite her suspicions, he made an effort to reconcile and show that he wasn’t the asshole she’d believed him to be in their earlier years. Over time, as she gradually returned to palace life, the gaps in her memories gradually filled in, and she was welcomed back in helping Nadia and Julian with their aqueduct projects.

However, there was always a missing piece, it felt like, in their mind, and they hadn’t realized what it was till Nadia mentioned offhandedly she didn’t really wish to have Lucio’s portraits hanging around anymore, but she also felt guilty if she were to throw away Catulla’s works, prompting the artist to ask after Lucio...

Trivia

Callixta, Catulla’s unused personal name, means chalice, and is shared with her brother. Her cognomen that’s most commonly used, Catulla, means wise or good judgement. As with Roman naming conventions, her family name is in the feminine form.

Calixta can speak at least six different languages as part of her formal education.

She suffers from selective memory loss and can’t remember any of the time she spent at Court, though she recalls her education, early years, and family quite well.

Her story plays out in a continuation of Nadia’s route rather than in Lucio’s own route.

She’s not a magician, nor are any of her known family members, but doesn’t have quite as much a dislike for magic as Valerius does, and her instinct and intuition is unusually sharp for someone without magic.

She has a smooth voice that “sounds like a Disney princess”.

[ambersky0319]

Corrupted

Chapters : Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine | Chapter Ten | Chapter Eleven | Chapter Twelve | Chapter Thirteen | Chapter Fourteen | Chapter Fifteen | Chapter Sixteen | Chapter Seventeen | Chapter Eighteen | Chapter Nineteen | Chapter Twenty

Overall Story Warnings : Sympathetic Deceit and Remus, Unsympathetic/Abusive/Villain Patton, Abuse, Manipulation

Pairings : Dukeceit

Chapter Specific Warnings : Mentions of past mental abuse

Masterpost

———————————

Silence drenched the mind palace as Thomas slept off his headache. Res kept his eyes on Patton, telling the other two they could sleep. Res knew they were tired. It'd been only one day, and so much had happened so quickly. But both remained awake.

"Both of you are so stubborn," Res muttered. "I won't hurt him."

"You've literally beaten the shit out of him twice, like hell I'm leaving you alone with him."

"Strong words coming from you, when you so clearly want to beat his ass right here and now while you have the chance."

Virgil made some sort of strangled noise, huffed, then looked away. The orange both Res and Patton wore were so similar it made Virgil uneasy. Logan only glanced between the two sides, no longer trying to figure out their feelings for the other. It boiled down to mistrust, and Logan was far too tired to deal with it at the moment.

Res suddenly sat upright. "Peremptory!"

Logan looked up at the small side. "What?"

Res pointed to Patton. "That was his name!"

"His name was Patton, Res. Not Pere-whatever."

Res shook his head. "No- well, yes, technically. Morality was named Patton. But this, this is obviously not Morality. I thought we established that. But I remember now, Deceit and Duke called him Peremptory." Res pointed to Patton, who stirred only slightly where he lay on the floor. His face was scrunched up, and Res scrunched his nose in return, feeling a wave of feeling rush over him.

"How much has he been keeping to himself?" Res wondered aloud, the feelings practically radiating off Peremptory.

"Patton had a nasty habit of repressing his own depressing feelings," Logan noted, "and whenever we pointed them out, he would refuse to open up."

"So he did what you've always done? Good to know."

Logan scowled slightly. "You mentioned others earlier, both of you, that I don't know about and neither does Thomas. Who are they?"

Res looked away from Peremptory. "I'm honestly shocked, Logic, that you never knew of them."

"How would I? They've always been hidden."

"Res, stop. We swore we wouldn't-"

"I didn't swear shit, because if I remember correctly, I had already been banished to the Subconscious. So Anxiety, keep quiet for a bit while I enlighten our dear Logic."

Virgil was unable to protest. Because Res was right, Res hadn't sworn to keep silent. And he didn't want to fight Res, not again.

He sighed, slumping against the couch and closing his eyes.

Res smiled triumphantly. "Good. Now, Logic-"

"We have names-"

"Not in my book. Now, the others.

"There has always been sides hidden away from our host. Much like when Deceit was still Veracity, or when the twins first split. Except they never had the chance to reveal themselves to Thomas.

"Their functions were Wrath, Guilt, Pride, Lust, and Jealousy. Big ol' happy family, the others, including myself, Anxiety, Deceit, and the Duke. We protected each other, and made sure none of you core sides ever found out about us."

"Why?" Virgil flinched at Logan's simple question, and Res barked out a harsh laugh.

"Because! Even from the time Thomas was just a small boy, we were outcasts. Deemed the bad traits of Thomas that no one should ever see. Did it really never occur to you why Morality was the strongest side of everyone here?

"It's because he made the decisions of who were good, and who were bad. He's the reason Thomas has two creativities. Why Veracity changed to Deceit. And why a side 'fading' is a thing in the first place."

Res leaned back again, half-heartily waving his hand. "But that's not the point. Only one of us had enough power to rival Morality's."

"You?" Logan asked hesitantly. Res beamed behind his scarf.

"Precisely! Though I was deemed the outcast of the outcasts, as my behavior was... Harsh." Virgil's eyes widened slightly, an anger bubbling in his heart.

"You mentally abused Guilt!" Virgil snapped, glaring up at Res. "And you tried to repress the memories of Deceit and Remus getting together, because you had a thing for him! Harsh is nowhere near good enough to describe how you treated us."

Res dismissed Virgil's outburst. "Anyway, Jealousy was the first of us to go. Everyone thought it was my doing, him fading. But even my powers cannot make a side disappear like that.

"I always had a feeling it was because of Morality, but I could never prove it. And I'm not going to lie and say I'm a good side to have around. I'm toxic and hurt the one's I love," he shrugs, "so my powers spread a bit to everyone, repressed memories, made Guilt feel more regret than ever. That sort of thing."

From his place on the floor, Virgil was gripping the carpet, trying not to get to his feet and tackle Res right then and there. Because he remembered this time. It was around the beginning of junior high. Res was at his strongest, as was Virgil. And Virgil hated remembering Thomas's middle school years.

"So, they banished me."

"How did who banish you now?"

"Logan... Why are you curious..." Virgil groaned.

"No, no. Let him wonder Anxiety." Res crossed his legs, looking at Peremptory instead of Patton. He noted silently that the orange was starting to dull.

"The others. They repressed me, to put it simply Logic. Using all their strength they locked me in the darkest corners of Thomas's mind. To be forgotten. They repressed Repression."

"We had asked Patton to help too..." Virgil mumbled, face buried in his knees. "That must be how he knew sides could fade. Because we didn't tell anyone else."

Res nodded solemnly. "I do remember him being there. So young and naive and had so much promise to change for the better... During my imprisonment, I was able to watch what occurred up here. I was hoping Morality wouldn't turn out like me.

"So there you have it, Logic. Since my fading, I believe the order was Wrath, Guilt, Pride, then Lust. Though they faded by choice. They all sensed a change in Morality, and none of them wanted to stay to find out what it was. None of them faded as far as I did, though."

A silence slipped over them once again. And Peremptory stirred some more on the floor, a soft groan cracking through the air. Virgil jumped at the sound, and Res slipped closer to the unconscious side. Logan moved so he was between Thomas and Peremptory.

"Is- wh- what's happening to him?" Virgil asked, watching the color drain faster and faster from the figment.

Res tilted his head, standing over the body and watching the color slip further away. "Truthfully, I have no idea."

[verbalvittles]

Lost

I think I want to tell you about a time that I got lost. We've all been lost at one time or another, from eyeing down every aisle in the grocery store to having no clue what road you're even on to wondering just how you got talked into this particular social function. But I want to tell you what I think it really means to be lost. The kind of lost that has nothing to do with north and south or people you have never met trying to tell you how to get somewhere you've never heard of. The kind of lost that you find when that one thing that you've been looking forward to for years turns out not to be anything like what you thought it'd be. Imagine for me, if you will, going to jail. You may or may not have some idea what it's actually like to go to a county jail or a state prison, but unless you've been on the side of the door without a handle I can tell you that you may never grasp the shittiness of that particular experience. But I'm not here to tell you about prison, I want to tell you about being lost. See in prison you aren't any sort of lost, you and everyone that cares enough to find out know exactly where you are twenty four hours a day. They may never know what you're going through, but they definitely know where you are, as do you. You know that you've been set aside by society, shelved until deemed worthy of a second attempt at living. Or a third, or a fourth. Whatever, you're not lost yet. You feel lost, for sure, but you're not. The being lost doesn't start till after your return to civiliation. When you realize that everybody has absolutely continued on just fine without you there, and they're happier for your presence now of course yes but behind all of your smiles is an expression of mild bewilderment at the fact that these people that you love and that love you have absolutely no idea what you went through. That you can explain it to them time and again and they will never ever fully grasp the profundity of your aversion to anything that resembles anything about that place you were banished to. That's when you start to get lost. The first wrong turn. Realizing that you're expected to just jump back in as if nothing has changed is another, realizing that you're not expected to just jump back in as if nothing has changed is yet another still. All you know is that things are expected of you and there are a whole lot of things on the list. But you have that list, so it's okay, you can contort your life through whatever hoops you need to in order to stay out of that godawful place you almost didn't make it back from. Right? Can't you?  But now you're even more lost because you're supposed to be normalizing but all these normal people are doing things that you can't do, either because you never learned how or you're barred from it now for one reason or another. Mighty fine carrot you got there, be a shame if someone made you watch them eat it over and over and over  while you gnaw on the invisible bars that you either impose on yourself or get manifested into actual bars because you didn't impose them on yourself well enough. At this point, you're pretty deep in the woods, but you still have a general idea of which way the nearest town is, metaphorically, it's just a matter of putting one foot in front of the other till you get there. Until, that is, the sky clouds over and you find yourself at the bottom of yet another gorge. You self-medicated your way right to the bottom because down is so much easier than up, but now you're all turned about and the sun is masked and you just try to go up in any direction at all. But the higher you climb in any direction only solidifies your cancerously growing certainty that whichever hill you started to climb that first time, well, it wasn't the right one. And all these hilltop vistas show you the same damn thing; how very far you have to fall. Now you're good and lost. Up that one creek and nary a paddle in miles. So you just let it flow, let the waters of one hoop after another carry you all the way down to where they empty into the ocean, and now you're in the ocean. This is not a good thing.

[phantomwarrior12]

A Lonely World

Prompt: Broken by lovelytheband

Word Count: 2,394

Warnings: Mild swearing, Gabriel trying to be an innocent little shit, fluff

Summary: The Winchesters tend to get laid, you somehow end up with something more exciting.

A/N: Hi folks!

This fic has been in the works for the better part of year, but, at last, I emerge victorious and I finished it!

Please leave a like/comment and let me know your thoughts!

~ Phantom

A Timely Rescue

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

I like that you're broken, broken like me

Maybe that makes me a fool

I like that you're lonely, lonely like me

I could be lonely with you

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

Fingers drumming aimlessly against cool brown glass, y/e/c locked on the couple swaying to and fro in the back corner.

Another bar, another night of the Winchesters trying to persuade you to let them play wingman. Another night of you declining their offer and electing to drink alone after they leave.

Different town, same story. That is, until he appears in the chair beside you.

You hadn't heard him approach, let alone noticed the shift of people around you. There's a Hunter's instinct kicking in somewhere in the back of your mind, but no alarms. Whatever it is, it won't hurt you.

You feel his finger tips along the small of your back before you see him. There's subtle buzz entwined in a tenderness you've never known within the depths of his touch, every inch of skin tingling from a single brush, a warmth flourishing beneath flannel.

When your eyes find themselves facing warm honey and you could swear you felt your heart skip a beat.

"Come here often, sugar?"

It takes a moment, but you grasp the fleeting sense of reality and steady yourself, turning towards the charismatic stranger, fully aware of the arm now slung across the back of your chair.

"That line work on all the ladies?" You query with a delicate arch of an eyebrow.

"Depends. It work on you?" The corner of his lips tug upwards into a mischievous smirk.

"No."

He allows a quiet chuckle, settling a little closer to you, "Really? I think we both know that that's not true."

You let out a quiet snort, readjusting your body to face the bar more so than him, hand already curled around the beer bottle as you study its contents, "I wouldn't be so sure if I were you."

He arches an eyebrow but pulls away and leans on the bar, "Alright, I'll play along," cocky shift of the shoulders, "let's start over."

He outstretches his hand, smiling at you with such an expectant look, you decide to indulge him, if for no other reason than to entertain yourself for the remainder of the evening.

"Y/N." You accept his hand, soft meeting calloused, gentle meeting firm. There's almost a current running through his veins, a subtle jolt when palms meet and fingers lock.

And there's a twinkle in his eyes when his thumb brushes across yours as he shakes your hand, "They call me Gabriel."

"Pleasure," you can't help the warmth that crawls into the smile you offer.

"So, and forgive the how cliche this line is, what's a girl like you doing in a dump like this...alone?"

"Just passing through," it slips out easily, a forewarning before things go too far, "how about you?"

He shrugs and finally relinquishes his hold on your hand, leaving it empty and nearly forlorn at the loss of his touch.

"Same as you, quick stop in a little town," he glances around the bar before settling back on you.

You nod slowly, noting the intentional break in eye contact to study their surroundings, "Running , huh?"

He seems as surprised by your boldness as you are, gauging the expectant look etched into your features.

"I'm that easy to read, huh?"

"Like a book." You set the empty bottle off to the side and direct your full attention to Gabriel.

"Takes one to know one."

"Except I'm not running," you correct him, "got nothing to run from."

He leans a little closer and his expression grows solemn, "Everyone's running from something."

"I don't run, tough guy." You counter, leaning a little closer, studying every inch of his features. "Something pushes you down, gets in your way, you stand up and make it move."

Gabriel scoffs, "You make it sound easy."

"Task's only impossible if you deem it so," you return proudly, y/e/c drifting from his eyes to his lips and back again.

He flashes another cocky grin, "Mind if I buy you a drink?"

You gesture towards the empty bottle beside you and a slight smile tugs at the corner of his mouth as he orders another round. He waits until the bottles rest between the two of you before he speaks.

"So, if you're not running, what're you doing out here?"

"Road trip with my brothers." You nod to the Winchesters huddled in the corner, two women fawning over them. There may not be any blood relation, but they're the closest thing to family you have.

"And they left you to drink on your own?" He arches an eyebrow, disapproval evident in golden hues.

"I get some peace and quiet, they get laid, we all win." You chuckle lightly, taking a sip of your beer.

"Weird, but whatever works, I guess." Gabriel shrugs, turning his full attention back to you.

"And what are you running from?" You level an expectant look on the man beside you.

"Family drama," he shrugs, avoiding your gaze.

"You really aren't good at this lying thing, are you?"

"Oh, but I'm telling the truth. I got brothers, too, they're just a lot bigger and meaner." He offers an amused smile, "It's good to get away from family now and again."

"I can understand that." You nod, taking another sip of your beer.

"Enough about that, care to dance?"

"I don't dance."

"Really? Who shoved the stick up your ass?"

You snort indelicately, "Apathy."

"Well, let's see if we can't have it removed." He takes your hand, pulling you to your feet and out onto the dance floor.

"Gabriel--"

"Have some fun, Y/N." He twirls you to arms length and then back against his chest.

Your shoulders sag but there's a smile etched into your features, allowing him to guide you across the hardwood. You can feel ths Winchesters' gaze, but soon, he's the only thing you can see, the only thing you can feel as the two of you glide across the floor.

His hands are everywhere, molding with every curve as you move in sync. His presence floods your senses like a rush of ecstasy that you never thought possible, a feather-light embrace that you can't see, but every nerve can feel. You brush off the nagging hunter's alarm, attributing the paranoia and distrust to the alcohol coursing through your veins and the traumatic memories that haunt your thoughts--memories that often banish any hopes of genuine happiness.

Just once, you want those thoughts to be wrong. Just once, you want the mysterious  man whose arms are wound around you, to be real and not a danger when you turn your back. Just once, you pray he feels the same way. 

So, when the Winchesters leave with their catches for the night, when the bar's inhabitants dwindle and it's only the two of you swaying to a slow song, you allow your defenses to fall, if only for a moment.

You lay your head on his shoulder, your eyes sliding shut as you commit every touch, every detail to memory--something to cling to when hell grips hold and you need a safe haven.

You're lost in the newfound sensations, the alcohol singing through your system, a perfect concoction of endorphins and ecstasy until that cool wisp flickers along your spine. It  dances over marred ridges and, for a moment, you're convinced you're imagining it; the chill as nothing more than an unfortunate result of beer and sleep-deprivation.

That is, until you meet his gaze, your breath catching in your throat when you notice the faint glint of blue flaring against whiskey, "Gabriel, your eyes--"

"What about them?" He questions innocently.

"Either I'm much drunker than I thought, or they're glowing."

"How many rounds have you had, sugar?"

"All night? Five or six?"

"You're drunk, sweetcheeks. My eyes aren't glowing," he assures you smile.

"You sure?  Because I'm pretty sure there's something trailing along my spine, too."

"Drunk. How about we get you back to your motel? You should probably try to sleep this off," he teases gently.

"You're probably right," you relent as the wisp disappears and the alarms in your mind silence themselves.

You're positive you blacked out, convincing yourself the whoosh of air you'd felt was the wind during a brief moment of consciousness on the way to the motel. It couldn't be the ruffle of feathers you hear when Castiel flies you somewhere. The next time you open your eyes, something that felt as if it had only been a moment,  you're both standing in the middle of your motel room, "How long was I out--?"

"Twenty minutes, give or take," Gabriel shrugs, helping you over to the bed.

"I probably snored--"

"Not at all," he waves you off, tucking the blankets around you.

"Thanks for the ride," you murmur, settling in to sleep.

"No problem, sugar. Sweet dreams."

The snap of his fingers is the last thing your exhausted mind can register before you drift off, a content smile spread across your lips.

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

"Rise and shine, Y/N!" Dean knocks on your door and you groan against the light filtering through the curtains, burying your face in the pillow.

"Go away!"

You hear Dean swipe his spare card and step inside, "Up and at 'em."

"You tell me to get up one more time and I'm coming at you." You bite back, reluctantly kicking the blankets off, swinging your feet onto the floor.

"You sleep okay?" He props himself against the doorframe after he closes the door.

"Like a baby," you stand, moving to grab a change of clothes from your bag.

"So, spotty and you cried a lot?"

"Fuck off, Winchester."

"Must be one hell of a hangover if you're this cranky. How'd it go with thar guy last night?"

"What guy?" you deflect, stifling a yawn as you shuffle towards the bathroom to change.

"The one you spent most of the night drinking with?"

"Didn't go anywhere, good dancer though." You call through the door.

"That sucks," he glances around the room, "Maybe next time."

You step out of the bathroom, "Not holding my breath."

"Oh, come on--" Dean's cut short by a knock at the door, "There's Sam," he pulls the door open, "and Cas?" He arches an eyebrow, glancing back at you.

"Don't be a dork, let them inside." You don't look up as you throw your clothes into the duffel.

"Hello, Dean. Y/N." Castiel greets, stepping inside the room.

"What brings you by, feathers?" You glance up from your bag with a smile.

"Sam called about a case, I thought I'd--" he looks over at you for the first time, cutting himself short.

"Cas?" Dean glances between you and the angel.

Castiel strides across the room, brows knit together in confusion,  his eyes beginning to glow a brilliant blue as he reaches for you.

"Whoa, easy," Dean steps between you and Castiel.

"Something wrong?" You frown, y/e/c darting between his outstretched hand and his eyes.

"You have residual grace."

"I have what now?"

Dean steps aside, allowing Castiel to step closer, offering his hand to you, "May I?"

Confusion emerges victorious in the whirlwind of emotion and you tentatively hold your hand out. You hold your breath as Castiel's fingers ghost over your forearm, a cool whisper beneath his touch as small wisps of blue trail along your skin.

"I've felt that before--" you murmur, eyes trained on the swirling light.

"When?" His gaze darts to your face, concern evident.

"Last night. This drifter sat and talked to me, I thought it was just the beer, but, it felt like this. My hunter alarm was going nuts at first, but he was fine by the end of the night."

Castiel nods slightly before he turns his attention back to your arm, squinting slightly at the Enochian letters glowing bright against your wrist.

"What the hell?!" You jerk your arm back, staring at the lettering as it fades, "What was that?"

Castiel takes your hand again, waving his hand over your wrist to reveal the letters, "It's Enochian and it's a warning."

"A warning for what?" Dean steps closer, concern glinting in apple green orbs.

"Y/N's been placed under the protection of," he hesitates, staring at the letters for a long moment in wonder.

"Of who?" You press, the anxiety building in your chest.

He meets your gaze solemnly, "The archangel, Gabriel."

You open your mouth to speak, but clamp it shut as you sink onto the bed, holding your wrist.

"So, you don't get laid, but you somehow draw the attention of an archangel and get yourself on his no-smite list." Dean shakes his head, scrubbing at his face, "Must be Tuesday."

"He's not just any archangel. He's the only one of the archangels to flee heaven. He's been missing for thousands of years."

"He said he was running from family drama,"  you interject, brushing your thumb over your wrist absently.

"Y/N, did he say where he was going?" Castiel kneels beside you, searching your features desperately.

"No. We talked, drank and I somehow ended up here. Looking back, I guess it felt like when you fly us places, Cas." You look up at him slowly.

Castiel's features fall but he nods, standing back to his full height, "Then he's moved on."

"But why place me under his protection?"

"What did you talk about?" Dean asks.

"How annoying brothers are."

Sam snorts lightly, "Maybe be thought of you as a kindred spirit, fed up with your brothers?"

"That's entirely possible." Castiel glances towards Sam, "Mankind has done much less to earn the protection of God himself, perhaps something Y/N said resonated with Gabriel." 

"In any case, you've now got an archangel in your corner, Y/N. Not a lot of people can say that." Dean pats your shoulder before he moves towards the door, "Let's head home, I promised Bobby we'd pick up some supplies on the way home."

"Right," you find your way to your feet, "I'll meet you outside, just need to grab a few more things."

Dean nods, corralling Sam and Castiel out the door to finish packing up Baby. Within twenty minutes, you're on the road, following Baby down the street. You cast one final glance in your rearview mirror, a slight smile tugging at the corner of your lips when you see the archangel's watchful form in the distance.

"See you around, Gabriel."

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

A Timely Rescue (Ch. 2)

Taglists are open!

Gabriel Squad: @thewhiterabbit42 @erisunderthemoon @stuckoutsideofthebox @nuvoleincielo @lyselkatz @high-church-of-the-holy-dick @fand0maniac @lovelyhexbag Forevers: @heaven-hell-imagines @a-mess-of-many-fandoms @currentlyfangirling99 @bofa-deans-nuts @emiwrites3reads

[archangel0lucifer-a03]

Needing a wee break from actual story telling I have decided to share little fact sheets about a few of my characters (existing as well as OC). I have put all under a read more for possible spoilers for things to come. There are spoilers if you haven’t read fics from my What’s This? A Ghost Series collection. My take on Papa 2:

(mentions of abuse. not detailed.)

Full name: Dante Emeritus

Species: Half-breed demon (⅜ Human, ⅜ Andras demon lineage, ¼ unknown demon origin) While his demon heritage does not make him immortal, he has slower age progression and a life expectancy of approx 600 years

Date of Birth: 21 December 1739

Place of Birth: Rome, Italy

Height: 6 foot

Sexuality: Pansexual

Relationship status: Long-term committed relationship with Syver Andersson 

Notable features: When you see Dante, you notice a man who clearly had a privileged upbringing. He is elegant and classic, well put together. He is a distinguished man, a wealthy man. He lost most of his hair at an early age, keeping his head shaved since his mid twenties. He looks older than middle aged, but upon seeing him you'd never know he was well over 200 years old.

In his demonic form, Dante stands an impressive 9 feet tall, if he stands upright. Large, heavy wings stretch out from his back, causing him to stand almost hunched over. His skin is solid black in color and a thick leathery texture. Sharp angles and bone give him a terrifying look, though he remains slightly humanoid. His legs bend back, like a goat, his feet are large and he has clawed toes. His arms are long, ending with massive claws. His face shares features of a large beakless owl, most notable are his large, yellow eyes. His mouth never fully closes, filled with 2 rows of sharp, jagged teeth. If his enormous size and horrific features were not enough, he smells of fire and brimstone, same as the very landscape that his demon relations call home.

His two forms are interchangeable - not one masked over the other. He endures full transformations. It's excruciatingly painful and leaves him drained for days. He will not take his demon form, unless it is entirely unavoidable.

Eye color: One green, one white (right & left respectively). They're both yellow in his demon form.

Hair color: n/a

Piercings: 5 frenum piercing- laddered barbells in increasing gauges

Tattoos: 2, both are on his chest. His first, a bold-line Satanic cross (brimstone). It’s thick black lines, outlined in a vibrant green. It is located on the right side of his chest. The other, an ornate grucifix done in grey-scale sits on his left pectoral.

Typical style: Dante will almost always dress in a manner that touches formal. His tastes are classy and expensive, always cut and tailored to him; he will not buy right off a rack. The closest he comes to casual is forgoing a jacket. He is always in dress pants, button shirts. He isn’t always in a waistcoat or jacket but often can be seen in wearing both. He does not own a pair of jeans nor a pair of shorts.

Personality traits: On first impression, Dante comes across cold, serious and a little bitter. On some level, these things hold true. However, once he is comfortable with someone enough to drop the exterior, he's actually warm, fun and sweet. He is very emotional but internalizes most of his emotions unless he deems it necessary to share them. He likes to be alone but with the right people, he enjoys company. He is not shy, but won't waste his time speaking to someone he doesn't find worth his time.

Family is important to him and he is very protective of them. Several poorly managed romantic relationships left him less likely to seek more than strictly physical, short lived relationships, most of which have been one night sexual encounters. With the right person, he will open up, spoil them, treat them well and love them more than anything. Growing up in his father's church, he has deep connections to faith and worship of Satan. Religion is important to him, guides him but he does not let it control him. He is not a selfish man, but believes that the central part of life is to put oneself first and foremost. He is slow to trust and doesn't cope well with loss of control. He is not a demanding person, feels that everyone should have the free will to choose, but he doesn't do well in situations where he can't be in some control. His desire to be that way stems from abuses in his past, specifically abuse from his demonic mother. (Demons aren't all evil, she was). There was a point in his life where he struggled with drug and alcohol addiction. It did shape some of his mannerisms but eventually he overcame the hardships, coming out victorious and as he believed, a better man. Dante has the ability to strike fear into men, make women swoon and babies laugh. He has extensive patience with people, unless it's stupid people. He is much more than first meets the eye.

Parents: Enzo Emeritus (Papa Nihil) is his father. His mother is an Andras-line heiress named Aurrah. He has a close relationship to his father and a burning hatred for his mother, who was banished back to Hell when Dante was in his late teens.

Siblings: a younger brother, Alessandro (Papa 3)

Other noted relatives: a close cousin Celso (Papa 1)

Pets: A python named Cassandra

Occupation: Retired. He was the former Papa (Emeritus the Second) at his father's church.

Hobbies: reading, writing (texts and music), collects vintage wines, scotches and bourbons, he enjoys hiking (mostly on his own), he loves to cook (for himself or others), he likes listening to music and watching old films, he enjoys playing games (card & board), he likes to travel, he likes to gamble.

Favorite color: Green

Favorite food: Italian cheesecake

Favorite movie: The Devils

Favorite song: Seven Lives - In Strict Confidence

3 likes: peace & quiet, the smell of old books, kinky sex

3 dislikes: being lied to, having his time wasted, willful ignorance

6 Random facts:

- Dante is very close to his cousin Celso, as they grew up together.

- He helped with raising his brother, when Alessandro's mother left.

- He is deeply afraid of the dark. Like he cannot be left alone in total darkness.

- He learned to drive as a teenager, just to go against his father's wishes.

- Laughs at his own jokes.

- His top three places to visit are Florence Italy, Paris France, and Las Vegas Nevada USA.

[atruththatyoudeny]

Monthly Reads | June 2019

Happy 28th! Like last month @kingsofeverything is posting your self-recs, so, authors and artists alike hop on over and let her know about your work! As always my eternal thanks go to all you lovely authors who share their work with us ♥ Here are all the fics I read and loved this month:

Tired Tired Sea || MediaWhore || famous/not famous - past alcoholism - recovery - slow burn - strangers to lovers - hurt/comfort - mutual pining - 113k As a B&B owner on the most remote of all the British Isles, Louis Tomlinson is used to spending the coldest half of the year in complete isolation, with his dog and the sea as sole companions. Until, one day, a mysterious stranger on a quest to rebuild himself rents a room for the winter.

The Cyber Sphere || jacaranda_bloom || Louis/Dermot O'Leary - strangers to lovers - twitter - fluff - 17k The one where Liam likes to think he’s Batman, Dermot has terrible taste in sporting teams, and Louis should really get a cat.

Breaking Through The Atmosphere || dinosaursmate || Space AU - friends to lovers - angst - mild homophobia - 40k Working in recruitment wasn't exactly Louis' lifelong dream, but his job takes him to a far away planet to help build a new civilisation, and a brand new life for himself.

Sisterwives || jaerie || a/b/o - dubious consent - polygamy - religion - implied brainwashing - self-discovery - mpreg - cults - emotional manipulation - 32k This was it, the moment Louis had been waiting for his entire life. Giddy excitement bubbled up as he held hands and stared up at his soon-to-be alpha and husband and grinned. The ceremony was small and simple, but Louis didn’t mind. Fresh flowers pinned into his hair and a brand new outfit was all he needed to feel special in front of their few witnesses. It was just some members of his family and a few of the church elders in attendance as was customary for any marriage beyond the first wife within the faith. First wives were the ones to have elaborate weddings with the whole community involved. An alpha’s first wedding was a celebration of an their coming of age, his first steps into fulfilling God’s prophecy. There were many glories for an omega that came with being a first wife but also many responsibilities. Louis had never aspired to be a first wife or even a second. He wasn’t experienced enough to be the leader of an alpha’s many wives and children and he didn’t think he’d be up to the task. Louis was just fine in the position he was stepping into as the seventh. Or Louis thinks he's getting everything he's ever dreamed of. Harry helps him find what makes him truly happy.

Becoming Us || sweariwouldnt || tv series AU - amrried at first sight - miscommuniaction - 59k Married at First Sight is a television show in which hopefuls looking for The One are matched by experts deeming them to be the perfect match. The twist? They meet each other for the first time at the altar. When they exchange their 'I do's'. And get married for real. One Harry and Louis find each other at the altar. They have five weeks to make or break the set-up marriage.

Si Pudiera Volar || messofgorgeouschaos || historical - a/b/o - fake/pretend relationship - arranged marriage - strangers to lovers - miscommunication - emotional hurt/comfort - 68k When Harry’s fiancé leaves him for his cousin, he looks the other way for the sake of his happiness. He’ll do anything to forget about him, including joining a monastery. It isn’t until his cousin’s former lover, a pirate, appears that he realizes everything is not as it appears, and an honest pirate might be the only person worthy of his heart. Or, a fic loosely based on Corazon Salvaje.

Orion's Belt || LadyLondonderry || Stylinshaw - a/b/o - soulmates - hurt/comfort - 24k Louis and Nick have been in a happy committed relationship for two years, their matching soulmarks on display for the world to see. It’s been them against the world, the alpha/beta singer and radio DJ power duo. All that changes on February 1st, when they wake up to a third matching soulmark. As they say, the course of true love never did run smooth.

Forgive Me This Lie Bigger Than Us || evelynemesis || magic - witch curses - miscommunication - angst - 25k The magic!AU where Louis is cursed to live a life of pain and solitude and Harry just happens to fall in love.

Still Deep In Us || graceling_in_a_suit || fantasy - post-apocalypse - mermaid - mentions of death - mentions of grief - magic - angst - 41k AU. The village Harry has called home his entire life sits on six shaky legs, held aloft from the ocean which claimed the entire world twenty years ago. Harry's just a grieving tinkerer trying to do his best, and Louis is a mermaid that ruins The Village's delicate balance of power (and perhaps, just maybe, wins the heart of a boy).

Hard for me to know i might see you around || Anonymous || Tinder AU - airport - 4k A TINDER AU where Harry swipes left on Louis' joke of a profile, then ends up stuck next to him on a trans-Atlantic flight.

A Long Way From The Top || jaerie || vampires - death - mountaineering - 11k Harry needed to find a purpose in life. Mount Everest wasn't the place he'd expected to find it, but he'd take what he could get. He also hadn't expected to come home with extra baggage.

That Mouth of Yours || Awriterwrites || PWP - 3k “Did I–” Louis panted around the sexiest moan Harry thought he had ever heard (at least since the last time Louis moaned–which was about 5 minutes ago). “Did I ever tell you about that guy that I let rim me at one of Liam’s parties in college?” Something dark and furious unfurled inside Harry, making him pull away from the sweet oblivion that was Louis’ arse. “Wh–” He wiped his mouth off on the back of his hand. “What?” Louis shot a smirk over his shoulder. His hair was a mess and his face was flushed and his eyes were glazed over but he was still himself–still teasing. Still a menace beneath angelic blue eyes and a soft voice. “Just some guy. Never got his name.” He turned his head back toward the pillows, giving a slight shake of his arse in Harry’s face. Not that that wasn’t distracting or anything. A little drool slipped out of Harry’s mouth.

Hello My Name Is Harry || abrighteryellow || famous/ not famous - school reunion - 3k Louis’s 20-year high school reunion takes a turn when a celebrity classmate – who also happens to be Louis’s long unrequited crush – unexpectedly shows up. A famous/not-famous AU inspired by Chris Evans.

Challenging Nature: A Look Into Male Lactation || jaerie || lactation kink - male lactation - 11k Even taking into account all the bizarre things Harry has subjected himself to in the past for the sake of an article, Harry has received his strangest assignment yet. It comes up as a random misunderstanding in a meeting and builds into a conversation — can men breastfeed? Internet searches reveal documented cases of male lactation popping up at different times throughout history, but are any of them true? Can a man will himself into lactating? Harry has two months to make it happen.

Freaks from the internet || jaerie || lactation kink - male lactation - a/b/o - exes to lovers - smut - milking - 3k Harry sells his breast milk to freaks on the internet. Louis turns out to be one of those freaks. He also happens to be Harry's ex.

Tied to Fate || littlelouishiccups || ghosts - angst - magic - 52k After his estranged father’s death, Harry inherits a castle in England that has belonged to his family for generations and he knows nothing about. When he breaks up with his boyfriend, Harry decides England is the perfect place for a small vacation. He isn’t prepared to meet Louis Tomlinson, a ghost who once lived in the castle and has haunted it for over five hundred years. He’s even more unprepared to fall in love with him.

I Want You S'more || 2tiedships2 || a/b/o - strangers to lovers - humor - fluff - 17k The one where the least alpha-y alpha and the least omega-y omega show that secondary genders aren’t set in stone and sometimes it works when you kinda share that.

His and Mine || glitteredcurls || soulmate-identifying marks - dystopia - mentions of surgery - religious imagery Á symbolism - 66k Harry legally isn't supposed to meet his soulmate-- he's rendered physically unable to recognize him even if he did-- but yet, of course, he does.

Salvation Let's Their Wings Unfold || twoshipstiedup || fantasy - angels - demons - fluff - humor - 14k Harry is an ex demon who gets banished back to Earth. Louis is an angel who gets sent down there for work. Naturally, they end up together.

Found My Hallelujah || Anonymous || cruise ship - hurt/comfort - pining - 34k As an engagement gift from his parents, Harry and his fiance receive an all expenses paid cruise trip for two. But one week before they're set to sail, Harry walks in on his fiance cheating on him. Newly single, with the cruise tickets in hand, and his bags already packed, Harry brings along his sister instead. And maybe the cute bartender on the ship might just be the person Harry needs to help him put back together all of his broken pieces.

Under the Moonlight || Anonymous || friends to lovers - fluff - fake/pretend relationship - mutual pining - 15k Harry and Louis have been friends online for years. They've never met despite living only a few hours from one another. One fateful summer a silly little lie, a family vacation and an accidental meet up lead to a week of fake dating on Mallorca. All in all, a holiday Louis won't easily forget.

[weaver-of-fantasies-and-fables]

TGOA Worldbuilding: Fashion and Culture in the Major Cities

Okay so I said I would be back and here I am. In these past few weeks I’ve been drowned in exams, working on stuff for Rome Pride Parade, another couple of demonstrations and marches, a two-day-long dance recital. I am DEAD. But as writers often do, I am back to haunt y’all with a little worldbuilding based on some sketches I did for my instagram page. Which I will pick back up soon I SWEAR.

So let’s begin! This post is going to be kind of long so make sure you have time! I’ll throw in a Read More after the first city.

Malnova, the Ancient

The town was unkept and brimming with criminality and death and illness.

But its past was glorious and, if one paid attention and knew enough to look for it, it emerged from the shroud of ignorance and wilful denial that was its shield and its prison. Scio had learned all about it as a child walking about with her beloved master, and now she did her best to transmit that wonder to her companion, wanting her to see Malnova as it once stood, wise and uncorrupted.

Scio had always been fascinated by the views hidden within the serpentine alleys of the centre. Ancient, almost-forgotten ruins of the world that once had been rested under a layer of dust in-between the villas of the rich. White marble spilled into the streets, reflecting the faces of the present and the past alike.

Malnova is the heart of the Knights’ rule, and even though the land can be counted more or less as being a confederacy of different cities, it’s in Malnova that the majority of political functions are held and decisions taken. As it serves the practical function of a Capital city, it’s constantly suffering a barrage of trends and input from the rest of the nation, which makes it difficult for it to maintain its specificity. Malnova’s ways are set in stone: it’s easily the most conservative city of all, both in practices and in fashion; religious imagery is woven in every aspect of its citizens’ lives. Sun’s colors are everywhere, and so are her statues, often depicting her as a merciless warrior seeking vengeance and punishing sinners with the righteous fury of her fire. The ruins of Malnova’s past (before the Knights) are left to rot in their squalid, paling splendour, and their meanings and purpose have been forgotten and buried; the people wander among their marble skeletons that have become voiceless and forget themselves as well.  Guilt and a very accented sense of duty are Malnova’s key words - interspersed with the promise of blessings to those who behave in accordance to the Law. Probably because of this, it’s precisely in Malnova that most of the rebels of the land are born and gather: an immense web of revolutionaries mingles inextricably with its underworld of delinquency and poverty, but it has expanded to reach even the upper class, mostly thanks to privileged university students who embrace the cause of liberation from the Knights’ near-dictatorship.

Scio, Milda and Koro grew up in Malnova.

Kristina, the Crystalline

Kristina was resplendent in the bright colours of the midday sun when they passed underneath its solar glass walls, watching its iridescent reflexes from afar, from the lowest section of the cliff it was perched upon; they stood where the evergreen trees gave way to a softer vegetation that morphed slowly into a collection of colourful pebbles, sleeping by the ocean.

It had been universally agreed in the past twenty years or so that there was no city finer than Kristina, nor more religious – only within its walls stood more than three hundred Shrines, not including the small, private ones, each unique and beautiful, reflecting the many facets of a faith that had known so many changes in the course of the centuries. Most of them had been abandoned, left to ruin in solitude like forgotten museums that had no more voice because no one understood their treasures anymore.

Kristina houses the most important temple of the land, the Shrine of Sun Conqueror; relatively new, it was built to celebrate Sun’s victory over Moon, and light prevailing over darkness, justice over cruelty. People from all the land gather there to celebrate four days of fast and prayer each new year: the new year start when the Spring Equinox begins, which is when the mortals place the start of Sun’s rule. The city itself is a work of art: it stands above the cliff where legend says Moon was born, and it has not entirely forgotten its roots of silver moonlight. Crisp veils and watery colours prevail even in this time when Moon is banished, and Kristina retains its mystical appeal and its role as Muse and Inspiration. Even if Moon, the protector of poetry and music has been turned into a monster, a ghost to chase away, the city still fascinates poets and writers, who gravitate into its orbit almost naturally.  Kristina is also the only city to boast a measure of autonomy from the Knights’ laws: because of this, it has been allowed to keep its public library open, if censored, and its alphabetisation levels are far higher than those of its sister cities.

Klara, probably the greatest poet to ever exist, was born there, and so was Skalo, the youngest and most reasonable of the Knights.

Nevenkita, the Unconquered

There were no imposing palaces in Nevenkita: all the buildings were small, huddled together in a rainbow of coarse bricks and sloping rooftops upon which shone proudly artful mosaics made out of solar glass; most houses were connected by suspended bridges that had become home to tangles of poison ivy and brambles, and on the highest floors sometimes balconies touched while thin strings collected lanterns that hung into the void.

Everywhere were visible the signs of war – it was the stone itself that bore its scars, faithful and supportive of the people that had given blood and soul and tears to defend it. The night spilled velvet into the air, and never had Scio felt it more welcoming or more alive: every shadow, every star, every cloud seemed to ring with it, with the pulsing energy of the mortals, the songs and voices and dances and noises that crowded the quiet, made it sentient and ripe with meaning.

Nevenkita is the only city never to have fallen under the Knights’ rule. Protected by the enchanted forest where the God of Darkness and Dreams used to dwell, by the ocean that Moon commanded and the mountains the Crawlers hide within, the Unconquered receives help and resources from people of the foreign nations, who deem it a point of honor to aid the city in its resistance.  During the course of the decades, Nevenkita has suffered and survived many sieges at the hands of the Knights’ army of Shorina, and has managed to keep its independence. The people of Nevenkita are very well cultured, know the history of the land and have high schooling rates. As opposed to the rest of the cities, Nevenkita’s healthcare system is not only extremely efficient, but entirely free - and Nevenkita’s doctors are known for smuggling medicines and sometimes equipment into the land, and for visiting people illegally (see: Koro). The city is almost single-handedly responsible for keeping the Resistance alive and safe, and receives a constant flux of immigrants escaping the Knights (though most of them later cross the border seeking asylum). The most important figure of the Resistance is Beno, Defìo’s wife; three times the leader of Nevenkita, she has fought nail and tooth ever since she was fifteen in a time where all hope seemed lost, and has attracted a fair number of followers inside the land, too. Her brutal execution has shaken the public to the point of reawakening movements of dissent all across the cities, and she is now considered a war hero. 

Defìo, though exiled, has picked up her legacy.

BONUS: SCIO AND SUNON AS SHORIN AND RI’SAL

Okay this is IT I’m sorry if it’s too long but I needed to sort it all out and why not have you suffer through it as well? That’s what writeblogs are for, right?

Tag list (which I might need to update? I don’t know): @toboldlywrite

@concerningwolves @rosesonneptune @kriss-the-writing-nerd @dreamywritingdragon @lady-redshield-writes @idreamtofreality @toomuchplot @queerloveandspaceships