#i would have loved to include “flowers/ i remember fields of flowers/ soft beneath my heels” :( | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hoodoo12 · 4 years ago

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Festival (26/30)

@beejiesbitch @turtlepated @clairjohnson @memedemonhours @monsterlovinghours @yankyo @edosunshine @go-commander-kim @saucymangos @beetlebitchywitch

Jessie glared at the imp that tried to garner pity from her, turning and hugging BJ's thumb in a possessive little show that ultimately made no difference. Glancing downward, she took note of the imps that continued to try to sneak close enough to taste him.

Given that he had attempted to ward them off, she decided to lay her claim. With a bit of focus, she vanished from his hand, reappearing over the top of his cock. Her arms and legs wrapped around his shaft, and she reached with one palm to cover his tip, cupping the precome that beaded in his slit as though guarding it.

"You all have had quite enough, go find someone else to lick clean--I'm sure there's more than enough jizz in that field to keep you busy!" she barked at them as they came closer.

She didn't hold any true animosity toward them, and in fact rather liked their appearance. She did not appreciate their opportunistic persistence, though, and held tight to her lover's cock. Attached as she was to him, she did press a few kisses along the ridge of his cockhead, trying to distract herself from her eagerness to take him inside her again.

Recalling that soon the night would end and her body would return to it's original size, Jessie perked her head up to glance around for Ollie, feeling a little pang of worry that she couldn't help. After all, he'd been sent off alone and there was at least one person who would snatch him up, given half the chance.

BJ let Jessie stake her claim, privately relishing the heat of her tiny body along his shaft. Christ, to jerk off and splatter her with come again-- --his balls tightened and he dropped a hand to give them a tug to keep himself from following that path and coming onto the ground, although maybe licking his spend from the ground would occupy those little flying pests.

He should just get his pants back on; that’d take care of them hovering around. Just as he put a hand down to his cock to support Jessie as he turned towards the treeline, a small voice spewing Gaelic in unmistakeable fury caught their attention. Ollie was back, hurrying over the crushed grasses, with a brownie in tow as his pack mule carrying two jelly cakes with no effort. By the reactions of startle then petulance by the imps, his words were directed solely at them. They whined and pretended to sob; one flitted close and made a very obvious pleading case for itself, even if the language it spoke was untranslatable. Ollie held firm and ordered them off and away. Reluctantly, the winged fey obeyed, including the ones hovering near Carmen and Beej. All of them looked dejected, but their attention span was short and soon they found other people’s groins to try and lap at the wet on them.

⁂

The slow lap of Kadus' tongue between Pink's cool folds as she calmed down once more was mesmerizing to her. Her clit throbbed dully, and when the sensation of touch became too much, she pulled away with a start and a soft giggle. Staying close to his chest and stomach, Pink floated a bit lower to bring herself back to eye level with him, arms draping around his shoulders.

"You do that often?" she asked with a grin, leaning in to kiss him, tasting herself on his lips and tongue with a shiver. "Really know your way around a pussy, don't ya?"

Her tone was light and bubbly as she teased him just a bit. Her hair and eyes gleamed with the intensity of their color, though when she realized that the sun was rising her mood dampened a little.

"You wanna come meet 'em?" she asked timidly, blushing as she wondered what he would think of Beej and Carmen . . . what they would think of him. "If we had more time, I'd be more 'n willing to take you again, but . . . I understand, you'll have to go home soon . . ." She glanced downward and leaned her head forward against his shoulder. "This has been really nice, though."

Kadus smiled as she drifted back down to press torso to torso with him. Her praise made him blush; he was young for a centaur and didn’t have much experience, but had snuck away from some proper lessons on occasion to ogle more risque art and read the more erotic stories found in the libraries. He couldn’t help carefully pushing his fingers through her hair, still marveling at the vines and flowers that decorated Pink. She’d created this beauty, and allowed him to pleasure her. The fey were remiss not accepting her fully.

Arousal still coursed through him, especially at her mention of being willing to go again--he wished she could visit his home with him, there were sunlit fields he would love to fuck her in--but he knew time was short now.

Instead, he replied, “I would be honored to meet anyone you would introduce me to.”

⁂

Beej chuckled low in his throat at the comparison of the imps to gnats, though the moment she touched her pussy and groaned he choked on that chuckle to stifle a moan. She had admitted that she'd been fucked out, and though he would have enjoyed rocking his cock further into her he didn't want to make her uncomfortable.

"Mmm . . . you sure, babes?" he asked just below her ear, stroking along her belly with gentle touches, only distracted when the sudden burst of Gaelic ran the pesky imps off.

The leprechaun had returned with a curious little creature that made his eyebrows raise. He wanted a better look . . . but the desire to keep Carmen comfortably seated and stuffed full took precedence. One hand dipped lower, fingertips brushing over her swollen clit just to hear her moan and feel her tense in response.

"Seems like at least a part of ya wants more," he teased, nuzzling beneath her ear.

At the sound of Ollie's voice, Jessie looked in his direction and grinned widely. Once the imps had finally gone, she kissed along the ridge of BJ's cockhead, only to vanish and reappear beside him, wrapping her arms around the leprechaun and kissing his cheek.

"Thank you, sweetie. I appreciate you going to get these," she nodded toward the brownie carrying the cakes, "and making those guys fuck off. They're cool looking, but damn are they clingy."

As she held him, her eyes wandered over to Beej and Carmen, relieved to see that the imps pestering them had also seen fit to fuck off. What also caught her eye was the way his fingertips brushed over Carmen's clit, which looked swollen and sensitive from where she was standing. Her mouth watered a bit, and she bit at her lips a little as she tried to decide whether or not it'd be appropriate at the tail end of the revelry to offer herself.

Still, she supposed if these two had entertained her lover, they must be decent enough people. Focusing on the distance between herself and them, she created an illusion of her voice just at their ears.

"Gods you two look delicious together . . . If it's not too late, and you're still needy, I'd be more than happy to use my mouth to suck you off, gorgeous . . . still plugged full of cock, coming all over him . . . haven't touched a single pussy all night, but yours looks like a work of art--"

She glanced over to BJ, hoping he didn't mind her being so forward. Beej, in response, raised his brows and chuckled softly, parting his fingers to rub either side of Carmen's pussy.

"She's not wrong, babes. Ya wanna give 'er one last go, baby? 's an orgy after all . . . 'd be sexy ta watch."

Still held securely, the soft touch of Beej’s cool fingers on her clit made her wiggle and push a little into him. She couldn’t deny his observation even as her cunt ached from the rutting he’d given her so well. It was hard to pull her attention away to something else, but the lilting cadence of Gaelic--as obviously angry as it was--made her turn to see what caused the ruckus. A small naked fey, bristled with red hair, was making it clear he wasn’t happy with something. The little imps that had congregated were offended but flitted off. The woman--Jessie? She though she remembered--appeared at his side to hug and kiss him, and thank the other ugly little creature holding more jelly cakes. Carmen’s mouth automatically watered at the sight of them, but she wasn’t sure she could take much more.

Out of nowhere, Jessie’s voice addressed her and Beej.

An offer to have one final fling. She’d decided against the minotaur and the other ghost, and this was just as tempting--part of her brain’s reasoning to decline the other’s offers was because of its demand to be bred and she wanted nothing but Beej’s come inside her, but another woman . . . that was a different twist.

Beej told her again that it’d be sexy to watch, just like he had with the suggestion of the minotaur. He’d even deliberately put her pussy on display, sending more ripples of pleasure through her, making her rock again as if to showcase how desirable she was. She knew he was telling the truth, he liked to see her blissed out. And wasn’t a top male fantasy two women together? Two things gave her pause, however, even as she admitted she was aroused by the thought. “That might be fun, but . . . you’re so small--no offense!--I don’t think I would hurt you, but it isn’t fair if I don’t do something for you,” Carmen replied, and glanced back at her lover for the second concern, “and my pussy’s a little sore. I don’t think I could take having you do anything with a cock still in me, but I’ve been filled with so much come I think it’d be like a flood and maybe not very pleasant for you . . .”

⁂

Pink placed her own hand over the back of Kadus' as his fingers parted her hair. The expression he wore as he took her in, admiring her flowers and vines, made her blush. Her lips curled into a smile so wide it ached, and although he'd agreed to come with her, to meet Carmen and Beej, she couldn't resist the urge to cup his cheeks and kiss him again, sucking gently at his lips to hold them to her own.

When she pulled back with a soft whine of desire, she closed her eyes and took a deep, slow breath. Opening them once more, she took his hands in hers and floated toward the other side of the clearing, where she'd left her lover and the rest of herself. The grip of her hands was firm yet gentle as she attempted to guide him forward, though she glanced around at the surrounding witches, curious to see if any of them desired to attempt to stop her from leading him away.

Kadus sighed into the sweet kiss Pink graced him with. Her eyes searched his as if expecting to see something--he wasn’t sure what--there, then she kept hold of both his hands to give him a tug of guidance. Sections of his flank shivered, as if flies had alit on him, and he took a half step forward. The audience of witches that had remained put up a little fuss, especially the youngest of the group who had taken soft hold of his cock and had stroked it as it became erect again. He stamped a hind hoof in a mild warning and she was pulled away by another from her coven. “He was kind enough to stand for us,” he overheard the older witch advise. “It isn’t recommended to be demanding of a centaur.”

At least someone had wise advice.

Although some beings more sensitive to sunlight were starting to leave the clearing, there were still a multitude of people finishing their couplings. Although Pink’s feet didn’t touch the ground, Kadus was cautious where he stepped. That meant it took a little longer to get to where she was leading him, but he didn’t mind, because that meant a little longer with her. He kept his fingers laced through hers and stayed close enough behind her that he could still feel the chill of her skin against his chest. It was the easiest thing in the world to press a kiss to her shoulder, and slip a hand under her arm to cup her breast as they made their way across the clearing.

⁂

Jessie grinned at Carmen's admission that the offer sounded enjoyable. She considered her words, and nodded a little, as she understood well how difficult it could be, entertaining the idea of such a tiny lover. As Ollie had shown her, though, being small didn't necessarily mean that you couldn't give your partner pleasure, as long as you know where to touch.

She'd rocked back against Beej when he rubbed her clit, and the swollen nub caught Jessie's eye again as she swallowed, her mouth having begun to water at the positive response. Looking up to Beej, she noticed that he didn't seem upset in the slightest, and any possessiveness he aspired to, it appeared he was comfortable with her offer as well as his lover's seeming openness to the idea.

"Can you help me come a bit closer?" she asked him, hoping he was as helpful as he seemed easy-going.

She giggled softly when one of the tendrils he had been using to swat away imps lowered and extended to her, and she found it all too familiar and comfortable to be wrapped around and pulled upward toward them.

"I understand how awkward it might seem, given my size. Usually Ollie is the same for me, but . . . he has shown me a thing or two about what a dedicated mouth can do, even if it's small. Mind if I get a little closer?"

Jessie addressed Carmen's concerns with compassion, even as she hoped to convince her to allow her the interaction she craved. Beej seemed pleased with her response. It took him only a moment to consider her words before he nodded and lowered her down toward his cock and Carmen's pussy, still held together with her cunt filled to the brim with his seed, plugged by his thick cock, held in place by its sheer girth despite no longer being fully erect.

Jessie looked more closely at their joining, licking her lips and groaning quietly. She seemed entirely undeterred by their size difference as she looked back up to Carmen with pleading eyes.

"I-I can fit your clit in my mouth . . . and I would really get off on sucking you off, if you like . . . don't have to do a thing, 'long as your man can hold me in place. Might be surprised how good it feels coming from such a small mouth."

She spoke again with a tone that started nearly timid, but ended thick and sultry as the thought of how her sensitive flesh would taste made her tongue thick with desire.

Beej chuckled softly and held Jessie in place, not quite close enough to touch Carmen, at least unless his lover granted her permission.

"Mmh . . . wouldn't have to pull out just yet, 'less you want babes," he murmured to her, fingers once again rubbing either side of her pussy. "Bet you'd squeeze the tip of my cock like a vice. It's yer call, Car . . . if ya wanna give it a go, gotta admit watchin' you writhe and pant with 'er mouth on ya sounds like a wet dream come true. Don'cha think?"

He glanced up to BJ as he finished speaking, as though to inquire about his feelings regarding the offer made, intent to stop things if dissent was expressed by any of them.

Being informed on how it all might go, hearing the naked hunger in the other woman’s voice, her lover’s encouragement and the tremble in him that could only be from desire, Carmen couldn’t deny how provocative it all sounded. Her worry about the size different and possibly inadvertently injuring Jessie would be negated if Beej still held her; he could easily prevent her from closing her thighs. And his gentle reassurance that it was still her call made her feel more empowered too.

BJ watched the three of them with half closed eyes, still taking drags from the hookah. He was fully aware of his lover’s indomitable sex drive, and it was no surprise to him that she still burned with arousal. Having the opportunity to be with another woman was too much for her to pass up.

At the question Beej delivered to him, he nodded in agreement. For the other ghost’s ears only, he recommended, “Let Jessie straddle your cock while she’s sucking Carmen’s clit. Don’t hesitate to wrap her up in those little tentacles you’ve got there. Trust me. You won’t regret it.”

He winked as his words were absorbed, and although he promised Jessie he wouldn’t get himself off, he dropped his hand back to his cock and gave himself a stroke. Edging had to be okay. It’d make the release that much more powerful when he finally allowed himself to come. Of course, it’d be easier to hold back with a cock ring, but he’d make the best of it with just his hand. Ollie had no restrictions about any of that, however. He sat importantly on his shoulder and stroked his own erection, just taking in the sight of Jessie between the other two’s legs.

Taking a breath and holding it, Carmen gave Jessie a nod. She saw the small woman scoot closer and settle in. She felt Beej’s fingers still massaging the stretched lips of her pussy. She watched the tendrils he had conjured winding around Jessie like vines, but she dropped her head back to her lover’s shoulder and moaned at the first touch.

tbc . . .

#writing #fanfiction #Beetlejuice #Musical Beetlejuice #Movie Beetlejuice #Beetlejuice x OC #OC x OC #festival #rp #long fic

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mostlycompetentwriter · 5 years ago

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Sunshine

F/M Pairing: Y/N x Han Jisung (Stray Kids)

Word Count: 12K

Genre: Married Life AU

Warnings: Smut and Language

Summary: Y/N has loved Jisung for her entire life and she would never dream of marrying anyone else. Of course, their life together isn’t always perfect, but they’ve always managed to overcome every obstacle standing in their way.

Note: Feeling soft for Jisung these days...

I was only 8-years-old when my parents divorced.

My mother, thinking herself circumspect, blamed it on my father’s long hours at work. But she wasn’t there the night I decided to wait for my father, watching him come home in the dead of night to quietly clean the lipstick painting the side of his cheek. I remember catching his eyes from the bottom of the staircase and the guilt in his eyes was impossible to dismiss.

Those kinds of unfortunate secrets are difficult to hide because they demand to be seen.

Thereafter, I can recall memories of sitting in different offices, listening to my parents bicker while their lawyers did their best to satisfy bitter clients, especially when it came to their daughter. I was a particularly harsh point of contention, but full childhood custody was granted to my mother who did everything in her power to push my father out of our lives, even packing up our belongings to move to the opposite side of the country. And New York City was just as intimidating as my childish imagination had perceived it to be. My first impression was unforgettable, a city that was large and confusing, constantly streaked with traffic and heavy with the low-set of smog in the mornings when the sun could barely filter through the landscape of skyscrapers.

My mother and I moved to the suburbs and started renting a modest home with the idyllic front yard and friendly neighbors who greeted us with dishes containing different foods upon our arrival. I had always been shy and introverted, choosing the comfort of my mother’s legs whenever a stranger would knock on our door, occasionally offering my mother a flirtatious smile. Like the older man who lived across the street who often made a habit of coming over to talk to my mother in the living room while I hid away upstairs, listening to the sound of their laughter.

Eventually, I could no longer pretend that something strange wasn’t happening, especially when my mother’s new friend brought over his two sons. They were both around my age, sporting thick accents that reminded me of the man on television who liked to wrestle with crocodiles. My mother’s friend introduced them as Chan and Felix, encouraging the three of us to get along because we would be spending a lot of time with each other. My childish innocence didn’t quite understand what that meant, but I wanted to do the very best for my mother.

Even so, I was still hesitant at first because Felix seemed to dislike the idea, ignoring me in exchange for his video games when I would come over to their house. Thankfully, Chan was more willing to comply, sharing his books with me since we both liked to read and the couch in his bedroom was extremely comfortable. He had a wide variety of mysteries and thrillers and my impressionable mind would latch onto those exotic stories and themes, picturing myself in the place of the heroine who somehow managed to always know exactly what to do in the most formidable of situations.

Eventually, Chan invited me to accompany him and Felix to the park to meet their other friends since I was having trouble making them on my own. Felix, of course, remained opposed, very nearly throwing a fit had it not been for his father who scolded his son for being so inconsiderate. Not that I was necessarily excited at the idea of meeting their friends since I would have preferred staying inside to read. Nevertheless, my mother was insistent that we get along, so I reluctantly followed Chan and Felix who were talking about some sort of new comic book that they were both reading. It was all very decidedly boyish things and I had no interest in superheroes who ran around in capes when the real heroes were the common female protagonists of my books.

“Everyone, meet Y/N,” Chan had introduced me, pushing me forward to greet the seven other boys who were all looking at me like I was some sort of extraterrestrial specimen.

One of their older friends, with a messy head of black hair, immediately crossed his arms. “No way, Chan,” he protested, glaring at me with intimidating dark eyes.

“Girls aren’t allowed,” another boy agreed, nodding his head with enough force to send his bangs flying into his eyes.

I retreated into myself with each subsequent insult and dismissal thrown my way. It was enough to ostracise even the most outgoing of individuals, but I was quite frustrated because I had tried to resist coming along from the moment Chan first proposed the idea. “I didn’t want to come anyway,” I snapped at the boys, surprising each and every one of them as I stormed away to plant myself down on one of the park benches.

I could hear Chan calling my name but I had decidedly had enough of those boys, including Chan despite the inherent kindness he had previously shown me. In fact, they could have fun without me doing whatever it is that nasty little boys liked to do in the park. I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have enjoyed it anyway, even if they had opened their arms and begged me to play along. Of course, I was still deeply hurt that they had dismissed me so quickly, but I had always been a prideful child, which is why my first instinct was to lash out when I noticed a shadow had fallen over my wilted form. “You don’t have to be nice anymore, Chan,” I said, turning away from the approaching boy.

“I’m really sorry.”

I glanced up in surprise when I realized that the voice was much brighter than Chan’s gravelly tone. Instead, I met a pair of unfamiliar brown eyes from beneath a fringe of blonde-colored hair. The boy held out a flower, a wilted dandelion that had nearly lost its pappus, as if in a gesture of appeasement.

I accepted it from him hesitantly. “Thank you.”

“They shouldn’t be so mean,” the boy continued, waving at his friends who were busy arguing over a silly football. “You’re really tall so you might be able to catch Minho’s long passes.”

I paused at his comment. “Do you want me to play?”

“Of course,” the boy grinned, smiling as brilliantly as the sun bearing down on the two of us. “My name’s Jisung.”

I returned his smile. “It’s nice to meet you Jisung.” He offered me his hand which I gratefully accepted, holding on to him with an unrelenting grip because I had a feeling that I would never want to let go.

This might explain why, years later, I was still waking up next to him in bed with an expensive ring on my finger courtesy of dozens of saved paychecks back when Jisung worked overtime in college. On this morning, in particular, the sound of my alarm might have been enough to wake me up, but the unexpected presence of my husband’s hand groping my chest provided the necessary catalyst to blindly reach out for my cell phone. I silenced the unwelcome disturbance, allowing a low groan when I reached down for his hand because leave it to Han Jisung to feel me up even when we were both sleeping. “What are you doing?” Jisung asked when I tightened my fingers around his wrist, loudly protesting when he squeezed my breast in return.

“It’s too early for that,” I whined, especially when he started to rub his hard cock against my ass.

“Just let me put it inside for five minutes,” Jisung pleaded, his other hand roaming down to tug on my panties.

“What good will that do?” I asked him, slowly wriggling away from his arms despite the show of childish outrage from my immature husband who still sometimes forgot that he was an adult.

“You’re gonna make me show up to work like this?” Jisung pouted, expression painted with his betrayal as he watched me walk around our bedroom.

“Take a cold shower,” I said, tossing a towel in his direction.

“Y/N,” Jisung said. “Let’s think about the practicalities of the situation. We haven’t had sex in a week and my dick feels like it might fall off at any moment.”

“And if we look at this situation scientifically,” I added. “I doubt your dick will fall off because that’s assuredly impossible.”

“Why are you doing this to me?” Jisung asked in an exaggerated fashion, burying his face into our nicest set of pillows.

“Because I’m meeting Seungmin and Jeongin for lunch and you have a field trip to chaperone. Plus, I don’t want to listen to Changbin complain to me on the phone tonight when you show up to work late again.”

“Seungmin and Jeongin are more important than me?”

“Lunch is more important than you,” I corrected him with a smirk, reaching for my bag. “Have a nice day at work, babe.”

“No kiss goodbye?” Jisung questioned even as the door to our bedroom shut soundly behind me.

Being amongst the youngest, me, Seungmin, and Jeongin frequently made a habit of eating lunch together on Saturday afternoons. It was a traditional affair, primarily allowing the three of us to gossip about the others without fear of reprimand. And ever since our Freshman year writing lecture, we’ve enjoyed greasy fast food while commenting on everything from Chan and Changbin’s sudden obsession with the gym to our theories that Minho was secretly married to a rich aristocrat who supplied him with the endless amount of money he spent on his cats.

“Hey!” Jeongin protested when I reached over to steal a piece of his steak.

“It looks better than mine,” I attempted to justify, speaking over a mouthful of food which my mother would normally offer criticism.

“Felix has been acting weird lately,” Seungmin randomly commented, a frown confusing his features as he scrolled through his phone.

I chewed the stolen beef before asking, “What do you mean?”

“I mean, he only ever gets like this when she’s back in town.”

I let out a heavy exhale, understanding exactly why Seungmin was concerned. “How long?”

“A week or so,” Seungmin said. “He never comes out with us anymore.”

“Does Changbin know?” I asked, sliding my plate aside in exchange for this piece of juicy gossip.

Changbin’s sister, better known as the object of Felix’s most intimate desires, has managed to whole-heartedly capture Felix in some sort of deadly trance. My step-brother, notoriously known for being a playboy in college, became whipped around Changbin’s sister, following her around like a lost puppy begging for attention. “Of course he does,” Seungmin replied. “But he says that Kara hasn’t tried to contact Felix at all.”

“Obviously,” I snorted. “Changbin thinks Kara is the epitome of perfection. His little sister can’t possibly do wrong in his eyes.”

“I think Felix shares his opinion,” Jeongin commented, trying to sound perfectly serious while he sipped on his chocolate milk.

“We’re having a family dinner tomorrow night,” I said with a sigh. “It’s a good opportunity to interrogate my step-brother.”

“Please, Y/N,” Seungmin said, eyes round and soft. “Felix always tells you everything.”

“And you can immediately tell us in the group chat,” Jeongin chirped happily.

“Of course!” I agreed, reaching over to ruffle Jeongin’s hair until my phone abruptly started ringing. “Yes, Hyunjin?” I sighed into the other end.

“Y/N! We have an emergency!”

I rolled my eyes at his theatrics. “It can’t be that bad.”

“We don’t have straws! I repeat, the cafe has no straws and people are asking for straws, Y/N.”

“Jesus, Hyunjin,” I groaned. “Just go next door and buy some straws.”

“Y/N,” Hyujin huffed impatiently. “There is a bigger problem here and you don’t even realize! That kid you hired last week? I think he’s out to sabotage the cafe. I put him in charge of ordering supplies and guess what isn’t supplied?”

“The damn straws,” I muttered, suddenly having a million regrets for agreeing to open the cafe with Hyunjin in the first place.

“Now you finally understand.”

I carefully lowered the phone from my ear, cupping the receiver to look at Seungmin. “Do you mind coming with me to the cafe? I’m supposed to have the day off but Hyunjin’s losing his shit over straws.”

“Sounds like Hyunjin,” Seungmin smirked. “I don’t have anything better to do.”

“Hyujin,” I repeated into the phone. “Please don’t scream at that poor kid, I’ll be there in five minutes.”

The cafe was originally supposed to be an independent endeavor until Hwang Hyunjin found out about my plans and demanded some sort of involvement. Despite our friendship, I was still hesitant to consider Hyunjin as a business partner, especially considering his performances in the lectures we shared in college. Hyunjin was the type of student to arrive to class five minutes before the professor, desperation clinging to him persistently while he begged me to explain the homework assignment. Nevertheless, Hyunjin somehow graduated from the business school at the same time as I did, albeit without the honor’s recognition, proving himself despite the doubts of nearly everyone in our friend circle with the exception of Jisung who always managed to see the good in everyone.

Shortly after graduation, Hyunjin and I took out a small loan from the bank to open our cafe in a very strategic location close to a nearby university. From the beginning, I had primarily handled the more elaborate side of our business ranging from accounting and point of sales to ordering supplies and handling employees. Hyunjin, on the other hand, took care of the creative aspects including designing what he deemed an “elegant” menu while also trying out new recipes that our mostly college-aged clientele greatly enjoyed in the form of free samples.

“Y/N!” Hyujin gasped as soon as I walked in the door with Seungmin and Jeongin. “Well?”

I held up a grocery bag full of the straws I had just purchased. “It’s fine, Hyunjin.”

“It’s not fine,” Hyunjin protested, walking over to yank the bag free from my grasp. “I’ll have you know that one of our usual customers left us 4 instead of 5 stars for satisfaction.”

“What will we do?” I deadpanned. “Where’s the new kid? Did you scold him thoroughly?”

“Of course I did,” Hyunjin said, pointing to the kitchen. “I sent him to wash dishes.”

“He’s a cashier.”

“It’s punishment, Y/N,” Hyunjin said. “We can’t have him thinking he can get away with potentially damaging our public image.”

“These kids will still get their morning coffee,” I said. “They don’t care if we’re out of straws as long as they have somewhere to loiter around all day to finish their essays.”

“That’s another thing,” Hyunjin said. “I think we definitely need a bigger place and I know the owner next door said something about moving out.”

“Renovations are expensive,” I said. “And you don’t know if the landlord would be okay with us tearing out the wall to expand.”

“What if I found out?”

“Talk to Seungmin instead,” I suggested, tugging the younger boy forward. “I’ll see about this new guy you’ve decided to torture.”

“Punishment, Y/N!”

I rolled my eyes because I was still frustrated that I had to come into the cafe because of the worst excuse for an emergency in the history of mankind. But what else did I expect from Hyunjin? “Remember to breathe, Y/N,” I whispered to myself.

Back in the kitchen, our newest employee, donned in his decorative jacket courtesy of Hyunjin’s obsession with bright uniforms, was currently bent over the sink with thick gloves pulled up to his elbows. I felt bad for the guy because it was obvious that he wasn’t used to doing something like this. “Hey, kid,” I said, surprising the younger boy who immediately dropped one of the cups back into the sudsy water. “You don’t have to do that anymore.”

“I-I don’t mind,” he stuttered, eyes wide as he held tightly to a sponge.

“It’s not your job,” I insisted, carefully taking the sponge from him like he was a deer that might dart away at any sudden movement. “I’m sorry Hyunjin told you to come back here. To be honest, he was probably trying to avoid this work himself.”

“But I messed up the order,” he said, hanging his head. “It’s my fault.”

“Not it’s not and don’t let Hyunjin tell you otherwise,” I said. “Next time, call me if you’re having trouble with the order.”

I reached into my bag to pull out my business card, holding it out for his reluctant hand which was still slightly damp from his unexpected dish duty. “You’re not mad?” he asked reluctantly.

“No way,” I reassured him. “I used to work during college too, you know. I kinda get it, kid, so don’t worry about anything.”

His smile was sincere, looking at my card like it was the key to the world. “Thank you, ma’am.”

“Get back on register,” I encouraged him. “That’s what I hired you for, and next time Hyunjin gives you any shit, you just let me know.”

He nodded enthusiastically, vacating the kitchen as if he was actually thrilled by the idea of returning to the register. I knew all was well when I could hear Hyunjin’s shrill voice from the other room: “Y/N!”

Jisung managed to beat me home and I walked inside to find my husband laid out on the couch with a glass of orange juice in one hand. “Headache,” Jisung pouted at me.

“Take some Advil,” I said with a smirk, ignoring the way his hands reached out for me in exchange for the possibility of a snack from the kitchen.

“Y/N!” I heard him groan my name.

“Sungie,” I returned his call. “I hope this isn’t some sort of elaborate set-up because we have dinner with my mother tomorrow night.”

Jisung was silent in the next room and I shook my head while dumping a sample of chips into one of our plastic bowls. I came back out into the living room to find Jisung rolled over onto his stomach, face buried into the cushions of our sectional. “Baby,” I cooed, trying to lure him out from his hiding place.

“I forgot about the dinner,” Jisung said, voice muffled against the furniture.

“I figured that,” I said, somewhat sympathetic to his plight. For as long as I could remember, Jisung had always feared our family dinners mainly because my mother had a personal vendetta against him. Ever since he first stepped foot on the porch wearing a rented suit for Junior year prom, my mother had deemed him unworthy of my time. Her feelings only worsened when she found out that Jisung was majoring in elementary education. “A teacher, Y/N! That boy isn’t going to be able to support the two of you!”

Subsequently, every visit to my mother’s house meant that Jisung had to listen to my mother read statistics on how poor and destitute teachers were in the city. Meanwhile, Felix also received the same treatment from his father who was absolutely horrified when he found out that his youngest son wanted to open a dance studio with Minho. It didn’t help that my step-father loathed Minho because he found him and Felix in the back of Minho’s corvette smoking enough weed to satisfy the entirety of our high school.

It was a complete contradiction because while Jisung and Felix were constantly reprimanded, Chan and I were bathed in compliments and adoration. “Channie,” my mother would smile. “How are your cases?” Chan was some kind of small claims lawyer in the upper Bronx which meant he made enough money to buy a Rolex for every day of the week while driving an expensive Tesla.

“And Y/N,” my mother would address me. “How’s the cafe?”

“We always do well around Finals season,” I told her.

“That’s wonderful darling!” she would always say while glaring in Jisung’s direction who would visibly falter under my mother’s judgemental stare. “How are your...kids, Jisung?”

“They’re great,” Jisung would laugh nervously. “I had to stop one of them from eating a bottle of glue the other day.”

I would laugh and affectionately run my fingers through Jisung’s hair while my mother remained statuesque-still. “How amusing.”

The pattern persisted to this day and I knew Jisung tolerated the dinners for my sake, but he always protested in different ways. For example, last month Jisung agreed to babysit our neighbor’s Pomeranian because he thought I might allow him to stay at home. And I almost let him get away with his impromptu plans when I remembered that Jisung would have to make dinner on his own and I was horrified by the idea of Han Jisung anywhere near my kitchen.

“Tell your mother I’m dying,” Jisung said, pulling me from my thoughts. “That should make her happy.”

“Han Jisung,” I scolded him, reaching down to gently massage his leg. “I’m not leaving you home alone. You’re prone to more kitchen fires than anyone else I’ve ever seen.”

“I’ll order takeout,” Jisung said, kicking his foot out against my thigh.

“If you’re gonna act like a child, then I’ll have to treat you like one,” I said, giving his ass a firm smack before rising from the sectional.

Jisung jolted at the unexpected contact, raising his head to briefly consider me. “What was that?”

“Do you not want to play?” I returned, grinning when Jisung immediately sat upright from his position on the sofa, leaning forward in expectation. “Does this mean what I think it does?”

“Perhaps if you decide to stop being so stubborn about the dinner,” I said, dropping to my knees in front of him.

Jisung’s eyes grew wide with lust, hands reaching out to pull my head closer to his crotch. “I’ll go to as many dinners as you want, babe.”

“That’s better,” I smirked, efficiently undoing his belt. “It’s only for a few hours.”

Jisung was ecstatic, pulling down his jeans and underwear. “I’ll just sit with Felix in the dining room alone.”

“Is that so?” I asked, curling my fingers around his hardening cock.

Jisung nodded, hair falling into his eyes as he watched me with rapt attention. “I haven’t had a chance to talk to him recently.”

“What a good sport,” I teased, jerking his cock a few times because I liked the way Jisung’s eyelids would flutter with his pleasure. But he was being remarkably good, so I decided he had earned an end to his apparent sexual frustrations. I took in the tip of his cock, running my tongue along the slit dripping with milky white pre-cum.

“Please,” Jisung begged, grip unrelenting on my hair as he encouraged me to swallow more of his cock, slowly taking him in until I could feel him at the back of my throat. “Can I do it?” Jisung asked with desperate eyes and I nodded once, giving him the permission he desired to move my head up and down the length of his erection, warm and rigid against my tongue. I made sure to moan around him because I knew the resulting vibrations felt really good, enjoying the sounds of Jisung’s grunts as he fucked my mouth.

While Jisung did a majority of the work, I tried to amplify his pleasure when I could like running my tongue along the prominent vein on his cock or using my teeth to drag against the fleshy part of him. My fingernails dug into his thighs, leaving behind marks that would probably vanish after a warm shower. Tears were steadily streaking down my cheeks courtesy of an instinctual reaction to Jisung’s cock repeatedly sliding in and out, hollowing my cheeks to accommodate him. “It feels so good,” Jisung said, palms clammy as one hand came to fan against my cheek, wiping away the smeared streaks of my mascara.

Throughout our years together, I had learned a lot about Jisung including his apparent oral fixation when it came to sex. Jisung loved when I gave him a blowjob as I discovered for the very first time locked away in the Janitor’s closet, tasting Jisung on my tongue for a few seconds before he was cumming down my throat, apologizing incessantly for not being able to last longer. As if I really cared because I was quite proud of myself for breaking him down so quickly. But as much as Jisung liked to receive, he also loved to give and feeling his tongue on my pussy was a guilty pleasure, watching Jisung eat me out like he belonged between my thighs.

“Cumming,” Jisung warned me, grip tightening as his hips stuttered, pubic hair brushing against my nose while the bitter taste of his cum was swallowed down with effort because my throat was now incredibly sore.

Jisung fell back against the couch, fingers pushing my hair back from where it had fallen messily into my face. I shakily climbed into his lap, kissing him greedily because there was no better sight than Jisung completely spent after a good orgasm, especially when it was because of me. “Is that better, baby?” I asked, pecking him on the nose.

“I love you,” post-orgasm Jisung told me entreatingly, eyes swimming with tears as he proceeded to plant dozens of soft kisses against the exposed skin of my collarbones.

Jisung pulled into the driveway of my mother’s house with a morbid expression. “It’s not too late to cancel, right?”

I ignored his comment, opening the door to step out into the bitterly cold evening. “Babe, I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.”

“No need to pretend,” Jisung grumbled, reluctantly following me to the porch where I hit the doorbell, smoothing down my skirt because my mother always liked it when we dressed up for these dinners.

But the last thing I expected to see on the other side of the door was Kara, especially a version of Kara dressed in an appropriately sized skirt. “Y/N!”

I’m sure my expression of shock matched the one present on my husband’s face as we both took in the sight of Changbin’s little sister. “Kara?” I questioned stupidly, holding tighter to Jisung’s sweater because I needed something to ground me in the reality of this unanticipated situation.

“You guys look great!” she declared. “Come inside!”

“Of course,” I said softly, pulling Jisung behind me as I stepped into the foyer, shrugging off my coat which Kara took from me to hang in the closet like she had been doing it for years.

“Y/N!” my mother squealed, interrupting the unanswered “why are you here?” hanging between the three of us.

“Mom,” I said, accepting her hug with a wince because my mother was never gentle in her affections.

“And Jisung,” my mother frowned, eyeing my husband up and down. “What the hell are you wearing.”

Jisung looked down at his corduroy pants which I had warned him repeatedly to destroy. “What’s wrong with it?”

“Oh nevermind with you,” my mother said dismissively, reaching out for Kara. “Look, Y/N, Felix brought home a very nice friend. Are the two of you acquainted?”

“She’s Changbin’s sister,” I told my mother. “Why would I not know her?”

“Oh don’t give me that attitude,” my mother said. “Kara was just telling me about the marketing firm she works for! Isn’t that impressive?”

“My brother’s jealous,” Kara said. “He’s stuck working with kids all day, isn’t that the worst?”

My mother giggled at Kara’s comment while I reached behind me to give Jisung’s hand a reassuring squeeze. I didn’t even need to see my husband’s face to know that he would be fuming over Kara’s words. “I think you can do Felix some good too,” my mother said, now leading Kara towards the kitchen. “That boy is an absolute mess sometimes.”

I found Chan in the living room, eating his way through most of my mother’s groceries. “Channie,” I said, hurrying Jisung along despite the way his feet drug against the carpet. “Can I talk to you for a moment?”

Chan barely glanced up from his food. “What is it?”

“In private?”

Chan offered me a blank look to which I grabbed his hand, forcing him to the opposite side of the room and away from any potential eavesdroppers. “Why the hell is Kara here?”

“Beats me,” Chan shrugged. “Felix said they’re just friends.”

“Just friends my ass!” I hissed at him. “Chan, you know how stupid Felix gets around her! Since when has Felix brought any of his ‘friends’ to one of these dinners?”

“I don’t want to get involved, Y/N,” Chan said. “It’s really none of our business.”

“But does Changbin know she’s here?”

Chan shrugged helplessly. “How should I know? I don’t see Changbin much these days.”

“Ah, you’re useless,” I declared. “There’s a potentially catastrophic disaster unfolding right in front of your eyes and yet food is more concerning to you.”

“Of course it is,” Chan nodded solemnly. “Why do you think I sacrifice a Sunday night at home to drive an hour over here?”

“What a good son you are,” I said, pinching one of his cheeks. “I’m sure your father would be pleased to hear that.”

“Y/N, I seriously don’t know anything about Felix and Kara,” Chan said, smacking my hand away.

“Listen to me, Chan-”

I broke off when my mother suddenly entered the room with Kara on her heels, holding out a tray of cheese and crackers. “Appetizers!” my mother exclaimed, immediately chastising Jisung when he accidentally dropped one on my mother’s coffee table.

“Leave it alone,” Chan warned me, sparing me no further attention as he joined the others in the living room. I followed him to the couch where I planted myself between my step-brother and Jisung, eyeing Kara suspiciously as she sat herself directly on Felix’s lap, arms wrapped around his neck.

“I think your mother likes me the least tonight,” Jisung whispered anxiously into my ear.

“That’s because Felix has something shiny and new for her to mess with,” I said, patting his thigh soothingly.

“Everyone, help yourselves!” my mother announced, ushering my step-father into the room with a glass of wine in hand.

I handed Jisung a plate. “Do me a favor and keep the food where it belongs.”

Jisung pouted at me. “You act like I’m clumsy on purpose.”

“I don’t need to feed you, do I?” I asked him, ignoring the way he reached down to pinch my waist in warning.

The remainder of our dinner progressed slowly, more so than usual because my mother seemed to have hundreds of questions for Kara. In fact, as opposed to Jisung and Felix being the objects of my mother’s contempt, that title seemed to belong to everyone excluding Kara. Chan and I were rarely spoken to, and Jisung was only addressed when my mother complained that he was chewing too loudly. “Do you see my son-in-law?” she complained to Kara like they were old friends. “He’s never had good table manners.”

I held tightly to Jisung’s hand when I felt him tense next to me. “Jisung’s always been that way,” Kara replied with far too much affection for my liking.

Her comment forced me to recall the very first time I ever met Kara back during my third year of high school. She was a year younger than Jeongin, so she came into our high school as a shy Freshman with only Changbin as an ally. And Changbin loved to brag about how smart his sister was, claiming that she didn’t even need to study because she could memorize everything the teacher said in class. But Changbin hadn’t been exaggerating and I had been slightly jealous of Kara’s easygoing nature, seamlessly inserting herself into our lives as if she had always belonged there. The truth of the matter was that Kara had been attending a private school for most of her life because of her higher intelligence. The school was located hours away from where we lived so we never saw Kara except in brief passing when she came home on the weekends. However, Kara insisted that she wanted a normal high school life, so she enrolled at our local public institution with the goal of making new friends and getting a taste of what her brother always talked about in their long phone conversations.

At first, Kara stuck tightly to Changbin’s side, but it didn’t take long for her to open up to the rest of our group, including Felix whose crush started the moment Kara first walked through the doors. My poor step-brother was enamored, jealous when Kara would start dating some of the older Seniors. Of course, it didn’t help that Changbin remained adamant that Kara never dated any of his friends because they were, in his words, completely unworthy. So, with the exception of the unfortunate incident of Junior prom, Kara obeyed her brother and only showed the other guys affection in the form of a pat on the head or a gentle shove when they said something funny.

By the time I graduated with Hyunjin, Seungmin, Felix, and Jisung, Kara had become another pillar in our dynamic, even appealing to the older ones like Chan and Minho. Yet, when Jeongin finally entered university with the rest of us, something changed with Kara and she no longer hung out with us as much as she had before. Then, there was the matter of her attending college in an entirely different state, only coming to visit sporadically when Felix would bend over backward to make sure she attended one of his fraternity parties. By the time I graduated from college, Kara was more or less nothing but a distant memory, only coming into fruition on rare occasions. Thus, seeing her here today was definitely disorienting, especially since it was only because of Felix that she was here in the first place.

“Kara, you’re such a wonderful girl,” my mother said. “I can’t believe we haven’t met before.”

I rolled my eyes because my mother seemed to forget my Junior year of high school almost as much as I did. “You’ve been such a gracious host,” Kara said to my mother.

“It’s getting late,” my mother sighed, glancing at my step-father who was moments away from passing out on the couch. “We should get to bed, but the rest of you are more than welcome to stay and chat. I know I took up a lot of the conversation.”

“That’s an understatement,” Jisung muttered.

“Anyways, I’ll call you later on this week, Y/N,” my mother said, offering me a lazy wave before collecting Kara into one of the tightest embraces I had ever seen.

Once my mother and step-father had wandered up the steps, Kara came back into the room with mischievous eyes. “Let’s play a game,” Kara suggested, urging us all around the coffee table. I groaned when Jisung pulled me back into his arms, burying his face into the side of my neck like he was prone to do when he was the slightest bit tipsy.

“No more alcohol for you,” I said, swiping the bottle away from my husband who protested half-heartedly.

“What do you suggest?” Felix asked, looking at Kara with starstruck eyes.

“Maybe truth or dare?” Kara said, squealing like she had forgotten that everyone around the table now had a full-time job.

“Why not,” Felix said, reaching for his discarded bottle of Corona. “Would you like to go first?”

Kara giggled when Felix leaned in closer, lips teasing her exposed collarbones. “Keep it PG,” I requested, glaring at Felix.

“Okay,” Kara said, taking the bottle and placing it onto the table.

“If someone can dare me to get laid, that would be nice,” Jisung said and I reached around to elbow my husband in the side for his smart comment.

I watched as the bottle spun around in its defined circumference before landing on Chan who groaned loudly. “Truth or Dare, Chan!”

“Truth,” Chan said, picking up his bottle of beer. “Knowing you’d guys, I’d be forced to drink the rest of this on a dare and I have to be at the office at six.”

“Are you seeing anyone, Chan?” Kara asked, leaning in close like she was about to hear a juicy secret. Of course, I knew better than anyone because I was often the recipient of Chan’s late-night phone calls when my step-brother would complain to me about his sadly lacking love life.

“No,” Chan huffed, reaching out to give the bottle a powerful spin. “I’m always single.”

I reached across to pat him tenderly on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, Channie, there’s a girl out there waiting for you!”

Felix let out a drunken squeak, turning to look at Kara with a smile. “Truth or dare, Felix?”

“Dare,” Felix said, bouncing up and down from his spot on the floor like a loose spring.

“I dare you to...

“...call Changbin,” I spoke over Kara, enjoying the identical looks of matching horror on their countenances.

“What?” Felix questioned, intoxicated brain undoubtedly having trouble keeping up with the flow of our conversation.

“Call. Changbin.” I repeated, much slower this time to leave no room for a potential misunderstanding. Unsurprisingly, Kara hesitantly shook her head at Felix as if asking him to ignore my request. “Those are the rules,” I informed her smugly, watching Felix as he took out his phone with a shaky hand. He dialed Changbin’s number and we all sat forward in profound expectation of what was about to happen.

That is until Changbin’s voicemail picked up.

Kara snatched Felix’s phone and quickly hung up the call. “He’s not answering, so let’s move on to something else.”

I frowned as I sat back against Jisung’s chest, frustrated because Changbin had probably chosen an early night’s sleep in exchange for answering a friend’s important phone call. “Truth or Dare, Y/N.”

“Truth,” I muttered, folding my arms across my chest even as Jisung started to rub gentle circles into my hips as if picking up on my irritation.

Kara’s eyes narrowed. “Were you jealous when I kissed Jisung at prom?”

The room was dead silent following her vengeful question. My cheeks flushed at the reminder, feeling Jisung squirm uncomfortably behind me. It was a horrible thing to ask me, especially considering the circumstances surrounding the unholy night that Minho had silently termed “the worst day of Y/N’s life.” But I suppose that Kara felt warranted to ask me considering the fact that I had just tried to expose her to Changbin. “Of course I was,” I snapped at her, twisting the bottle while maintaining a penetrative staring contest with Felix’s love interest.

My shoulders relaxed when the bottle landed on Kara, and I quickly intervened before Felix could give Kara an easy way out of what was rapidly becoming a terrible mistake. “Are you dating Felix again?” I asked, watching as her eyes narrowed from my choice of words.

“It’s truth or dare, Y/N.”

“Are you afraid to answer the question?” I asked her. “Or are you just using Felix like always?”

Another long silence enveloped our gathered group.

“I guess I don’t get a turn?” Jisung whispered into the tense silence of the room.

“Holy shit!” Hyunjin exhaled when I finally finished explaining everything that had happened at my mother’s house the previous evening.

“She’s a total bitch,” I said. “Everyone knows that we don’t talk about that night.”

Hyunjin nodded in agreement. “Do you remember the ugly suit I wore?”

I glared at my friend. “You’re not helping and we have customers.”

Hyunjin offered me a salute, returning to the register to accept another order while I aggressively wiped down our counters. One of our waitresses watched me with a gaping mouth until I turned to glare at her. She quickly picked up her tray to retreat back into the crowd of college students.

Now, let me start by saying that Junior year prom was never something I was looking forward to attending. The only reason I even went was because Han Jisung asked me to go and my attraction for him had skyrocketed by this time, to the point where I found myself staring at his ass whenever we had gym together and he decided to demonstrate the correct technique for a pull-up. Our friends deemed our relationship inevitable, the romanticized soulmates who met as kids and grew up together with agreeable personalities. Of course, it also helped when puberty hit and suddenly Han Jisung looked less like the little boy I played with on the playground and more like a man whose dick I really wanted to taste.

For a lot of my classmates, Prom meant an unsanctioned night away from the school where they could lose their inhibitions when someone inevitably spiked the punch bowl. There were no school officials present at the event, only volunteers, and since it didn’t take place on school grounds (but inside of a nearby YMCA) everyone could basically do whatever they wanted without consequence. Thus, the next day’s rumor mill was spinning with tales of romance and deceptions, break-ups and hook-ups, and even the occasional wild story of someone stealing from the radio store next door.

“Do you want anything to drink?” Jisung asked me nervously the moment we first walked inside.

“Sure,” I told him, affectionately adjusting the cute bowtie he had chosen for the occasion, cheeks rosy red as he hurried away.

“Y/N!” Hyunjin said, taking Jisung’s place in front of me. “You look great!”

“So do you,” I told him honestly, appraising his suit which likely cost a thousand dollars just to rent for this one occasion. “Where’s your girl?”

“Who knows, she was just meant to be arm candy,” Hyunjin said dismissively and I snorted at his explanation. “I only came here for the drama and the alcohol.”

“Anything interesting so far?” I asked, grinning when I saw Jisung accidentally knock the punch ladle into the floor.

“Changbin came with a Freshman,” Hyunjin said. “I talked to them earlier and he’s definitely only interested in her ass.”

“How crude,” I remarked. “What about the others?”

“I guess Seungmin and Jeongin came with each other,” Hyunjin snickered. “And I haven’t seen Felix yet.”

I paused. “Felix is coming?”

“It was a last-minute thing,” Hyunjin explained. “Apparently, Felix is bringing someone he really likes.”

“I didn’t know Felix was interested in anyone,” I said, with the exception of Changbin’s little sister, of course.

“It’s getting late,” Hyunjin remarked. “He might have been lying.”

“He wasn’t dressed when I left the house,” I said, remembering the sight of my step-brother teasing Jisung and I from behind our parents while they took an endless amount of pictures while relentlessly questioning Jisung about his appearance.

Speaking of which, I graciously accepted the punch Jisung offered me, taking a sip before wincing. “I think someone added way too much.”

Hyunjin reached for my drink, sniffing the rim before downing the rest. “Not too bad.”

Jisung watched him with wide eyes. “Isn’t that strong?”

“Not strong enough,” Hyunjin complained. “I’m going to find something better. Have fun you two, make sure you use a condom if you’re gonna fuck.”

I glared at Hyunjin’s back as he disappeared into the crowd.

Yes, Prom might not have been high on my list of priorities, but the way Jisung was currently kissing me definitely made it more appealing. After ingesting an appropriate amount of alcohol, a tipsy Jisung had latched himself to my side, whispering rather inappropriate things into my ear before I inevitably found a place where we could be alone, safely tucked away inside the locker room. I drug Jisung to a bench where I immediately straddled his thighs, kissing him with enough force to throw him off balance, hand splayed across my hip as he forced his tongue inside my mouth tasting strongly of alcohol. I struggled to pull in enough oxygen to counter the dizziness threatening to send me falling into the floor. Jisung certainly wasn’t helping matters, squeezing my breasts spilling over the neckline of my dress while pressing sloppy kisses to my throat, erection hard through his dress pants and I had never felt hornier in my entire life. And that includes the time Minho bought me a vibrator for my birthday as a joke but I still tried to use it and ended up masturbating to the thought of Jisung fucking me on my mattress.

“You feel so good,” Jisung whispered to me now, rolling his hips into mine as he sought additional friction. I held tightly to the lapels of his jacket because it felt really nice through the thin fabric of my dress when he would move just right, pressing against my clit with a wonderful pressure that nearly made me cum before he could even put it inside.

“Sungie,” I panted into his ear, tasting every inch of his beautiful honey-golden skin. “Please fuck me.”

“Can I?” Jisung asked, thrusts growing erratic as if affected by just the thought of his cock hot and heavy between my thighs. “Yes, of course, baby. I’ll do that for you.”

“Condom?” I managed, reconnecting our lips because I was quickly coming to the realization that Jisung was a wonderful kisser.

“Shit,” he cursed against my mouth. “I left them in the car.”

“I’ll get them,” I said, reaching deep into the pocket of his suit pants for the key, inadvertently brushing against his cock.

Jisung moaned loudly. “Hurry back, baby.”

“And this!” I said, standing up from his lap to reach into my cleavage to pull out a piece of fabric.

“That was in there the whole time?”

“Not important,” I said, shoving the fabric at him. “Put this on?”

“What is it?” Jisung asked, unraveling the cloth.

“A blindfold,” I said and he looked up at me with evident surprise.

“Why do you want me to wear a blindfold?”

“Just put it on, please,” I begged him.

“Why?” Jisung whined, a complete contradiction to the mess he looked with an erection still prominent in his pants.

“I don’t want you to see me,” I said, blushing at the thought of Han Jisung seeing me naked because I was certainly nothing like those busty girls in the porn magazines I found under his mattress.

“Okay,” Jisung grumbled, probably because he was just as aroused as I was even if that meant doing something that might seem utterly ridiculous to anybody else.

“Don’t take it off,” I warned him, glancing over my shoulder to see Jisung tying the blindfold in place.

Satisfied, I silently rushed back into the gym, making my way to the exit despite the obscene displays taking place all around me courtesy of several pairings of passionate couples. I did my best to ignore them, even though I was pretty sure I saw Hwang Hyunjin in the center of the dance floor, shirt unbuttoned and chest exposed for everyone to see. But Hyunjin loved to be at the center of attention, so I left him to entertain the majority of the women flanking to him like a magnet while I jerked open the door to Jisung’s Sudan, finding the condoms across the dirty backseat of his car.

I grew even more excited just by looking at them, hiding them carefully in my hand as I rushed through the parking lot in my haste to find Jisung again. At this point, the party was in full swing, music loud and pounding, testing the acoustics of the YMCA which probably never hosted anything else this insane and chaotic before. But I was on cloud nine, ready to finally have sex with someone I had been crushing on ever since Jisung had shown off his abs to a doubtful Changbin. However, when I re-opened the doors to the locker room, I stumbled in my heels as I was greeted with an unfortunate visual. An unforgettable image of Kara on top of Jisung, kissing him passionately while she practically forced him to grope her chest. “Y/N,” Jisung moaned, apparently completely unaware of who was actually grinding on his dick.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing,” I finally shrieked, completely horrified at the display that would forever engrain itself into my subconscious.

Jisung immediately pulled off his blindfold, eyes widening in shock when he unceremoniously dumped Kara into the floor who loudly protested. “Y/N?”

“Jisung,” I said, looking back between him and Kara with panicked eyes and a broken heart. I had never felt so betrayed before in my entire life, and there had been moments when I felt downright disgusted with my poor choice in men. But Jisung was more important to me than the casual flings from my past, which probably explains my sudden desire to escape the situation that was forcing messy tears through the mascara clumping my eyelashes together. I left Jisung behind in that nasty locker room before losing myself to the crowd of my classmates.

There was only one person I wanted to see, and I found Hyunjin now re-clothed, talking to some other girls when he first saw me approach. He greeted me cheerfully, only realizing my condition once he stopped to notice the tears falling freely from my tired eyes. “Y/N,” Hyunjin said, expression falling as he pulled me into his arms tightly. “Why are you crying?”

“I saw her with Jisung,” was all I managed to get out before Hyunjin’s eyes were practically blazing with fury.

“That little shit,” Hyunjin cursed, grabbing my hand and leading me through the partygoers who were too busy drunkenly grinding on one another to notice the two of us. “Changbin,” Hyunjin said, interrupting the older boy who was currently fingering the edges of a freshman girl’s panties, practically dry humping through their clothes.

“What is it?” Changbin snapped at Hyunjin, eyes narrowed until they landed on me. “Y/N,” Changbin said, tone much softer as he abruptly dismissed his date who whined about their loss of contact. “What happened?”

“Jisung needs his ass kicked,” Hyunjin said and Changbin needed no further encouragement.

“Where the hell is he?”

It was frigidly cold in the parking lot and there was way too much going on around me. I could barely handle the yelling between Changbin and Felix, my step-brother having found us outside with Jisung trailing behind him, but Hyunjin was arguing with Seungmin and Jeongin, refusing to let Jisung close to me. This night was rapidly becoming one of the worst of my entire life and that says a lot because I had once watched my own father walk out of the house without so much as a goodbye.

“Get out of the way, Felix,” Changbin suddenly growled, fists balled at his sides.

“It’s not his fault,” Felix tried to explain.

“Why is Y/N upset, then?” Changbin demanded, shouldering his way through Seungmin and Jeongin who were certainly no match for a physically stronger Changbin.

“He didn’t do anything wrong,” Felix said. “It’s Kara’s fault! She didn’t need to take things that far-”

“Kara!” Changbin interrupted, now even more furious than he was before. “Did you do something to my sister?”

“Not him,” Seungmin suddenly interfered. “Kara and Felix got into a fight and Kara snuck into the locker room to get back at him.”

Changbin took a step back, suspicion bright in his dark eyes. “What did you say?”

“I thought it was Y/N,” Jisung finally spoke up, eyes wet with tears. “She didn’t say anything to me. She just came over and I was waiting for Y/N!”

“What happened to my sister!” Changbin growled.

“She kissed me,” Jisung said, flinching a little when Changbin tried to charge at him, intercepted by Seungmin and Jeongin who held him back by his with as much force as they could manage together. Jisung turned to look at me, gaze entreating as he reached out a hand. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I thought it was you.”

I shook my head, refusing to even look at Han Jisung because my heart was hurting in my chest and the night just continued to grow more and more confusing. “I’ll take care of Y/N,” Hyunjin finally said, sending Jisung a nasty glare before guiding me further and further away from the source of my pain.

But don’t ever let anyone tell you that Seo Changbin didn’t have a soft spot for Han Jisung because, at the drop of a hat, the older boy would immediately be at my husband’s side. And I thoroughly took advantage of this when I asked Jisung to invite Changbin over to our house for dinner one night, the two of them arriving together with Changbin clutching tightly to his sleeping bag. “I guess you’re spending the night,” I remarked.

“Why wouldn’t I? We work at the same place,” came Changbin’s usual response, tossing his bag onto the couch while he followed Jisung into our bedroom, complaining about something to do with the air conditioning. “Your apartment is so much nicer than mine!”

I finished cooking in relative peace, making sure to keep Changbin’s wine glass constantly full because a tipsy Changbin was much easier to deal with than the serious version who would likely explode when he heard my story. “So nice of you Y/N,” Changbin said as he slurped his spaghetti. He and Jisung were always messy when it came to pasta so I tried to ignore their nasty habits.

“Changbin,” I said, studying the older carefully. “I heard Kara was visiting.”

Changbin shrugged, shoving more food into his impossibly small mouth. “She’s been staying at my place.”

“Really?” I asked. “Why haven’t we had a chance to meet her again.”

Changbin glanced up at me. “You don’t even like, Kara, so why would I bother?”

I rolled my eyes at him. “She’s your sister, of course, I would be interested.”

“She stays busy a lot,” Changbin said.

“With who?”

“With work,” Changbin said, taking another long drink of the expensive wine I bought just for this occasion.

“She could have come tonight,” I said carefully, but I had been apparently pushing too far because now Changbin was suspicious.

“What are you getting at, Y/N?”

I took a deep breath, sensing Jisung watching the two of us over a mouthful of noodles. “I saw Kara the other day at my mother’s dinner.”

Changbin paused, considering me with a scowl. “What?”

“She came to our dinner,” I repeated. “With Felix.”

And with the exception of Jisung’s chewing, the room had grown relatively silent. “Why am I just now hearing about this?”

Changbin turned an accusatory gaze at Jisung who just rapidly shook his head and drank more wine. “Probably because she didn’t want anyone to know,” I said. “I think your sister might be trying to start something with Felix again and we both know how badly that turned out last time.”

Changbin dropped his fork, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “So nice of everyone to keep me informed.”

I relaxed a little because Changbin wasn’t reacting as violently as I thought he might. “I wanted to be sure and I got the information I needed today.”

Changbin sighed. “What information?”

“Minho looked through Felix’s phone at their dance practice,” I said. “He saw some messages with Kara. Apparently, they’re going to dinner tomorrow night. Isn’t that nice?”

Changbin’s jaw clenched as he took in this news. “And I’m assuming you have something planned?”

“Maybe,” I said with an innocent shrug. “It could be that Minho, Hyunjin, and I happened to make a reservation at the same place.”

“You’re gonna spy on them?”

“Would you rather us not?”

Changbin scoffed, dark hair falling into his eyes. “Are you asking me to come?”

“Only if you want to.”

“Well of course I do,” Changbin grunted impatiently, reaching down for another forkful of spaghetti while I sat back in my chair with satisfaction.

“This is surprisingly classy of Felix,” Hyunjin remarked, rolling down the window of Minho’s SUV to perch a pair of binoculars on the end of his nose.

“Aren’t you taking this too far?” Minho asked his friend.

“These?” Hyunjin asked, adjusting the lenses. “How else am I supposed to see what’s going on?”

“This is my sister we’re talking about,” Changbin spoke up, tugging at the frayed sleeves of his borrowed jacket.

“And Y/N’s stepbrother,” Minho added.

“I don’t claim him by blood,” I said, reaching over to slap Changbin’s hands. “Stop messing with that, you’re gonna ruin it, and this is Jisung’s nicest coat!”

My husband in question had opted to stay at home since he was probably the smartest out of all of us when it came to potential confrontations. “You’re rich enough to buy him another,” Changbin grumbled.

“He doesn’t wear them,” I said. “I buy him all sorts of clothes, but they always sit in his closet.”

“Who’s he trying to impress at an Elementary school?” Hyunjin snorted.

“Can’t we just go inside already?” I asked, slowly massaging my throbbing temples.

“Yeah, but can you shimmy the lock on your door?” Minho requested. “I’m pretty sure it’s broken.”

I accommodated his request before the four of us walked into the restaurant with an air of nonchalance. Nothing but four friends since childhood deciding to eat out together for a gourmet meal. It reminded me of college when the four of us shared the same lecture, a one-time occurrence because Minho forgot a general education course, and we always ate together because it ended in the early evening.

Of course, there was always the matter of the other three using me to find the answers to our homework assignment because they didn’t feel like completing the calculations.

The hostess inside the restaurant greeted us, checking Hyunjin’s reservation before leading us to our table. “Do you see them?” Hyunjin asked, deciding not to be so discreet in the distracting way he moved his head around, surveying the restaurant landscape with a sharp eye.

“This is so stupid,” Changbin grimaced.

“Are you too cool to eat with us?” Minho joked, gasping when he noticed the free wine samples menu.

“I’ll look around,” I said. “Give me five minutes.”

“And then what?” Hyunjin asked even as I was already moving away, sticking to the outskirts of the finely decorated tables. According to Minho, Felix and Kara should have already been at the restaurant for half an hour, probably weighing the consequences of keeping their new affair a secret from the rest of us. But I had no intention of letting them sneak away with anything, determined to get to the bottom of whatever relationship Felix was attempting with Changbin’s little sister, the same person who had openly scorned and rejected Felix in the past. This really demonstrates just how powerful a crush can be when it involves someone as determined as Felix.

“Aha!” I murmured quietly, discovering the couple together near the private dining room at the back. Reaching for my cell phone, I sent Minho a quick text message, waiting for a moment or so before I could see the three boys carefully making their way to my hiding spot.

“Ridiculous,” Changbin muttered, but he let out a disappointed sigh when he saw his sister and Felix together. “I guess you were right.”

Changbin was squatting down in front of the display of plants, peeling back the branches to find a better view. “Damn, Changbin,” I said, reaching down to give his ass an appreciative slap. “Who are you trying to impress?”

“Keep your hands to yourself,” Changbin snapped at me. “It’s not my fault that Han’s flatter than his vocal pitch.”

“Burn,” Hyunjin remarked while I scoffed in response.

“Jisung is a great singer.”

“Yeah, the kids are so impressed,” Minho giggled, ignoring the glare I sent him over my shoulder.

“They can’t be dating,” Changbin said. “I would have known about this. Kara would have told me!”

“That definitely looks like a date to me,” Minho teased Changbin.

“Unless friends share five-star meals now,” Hyunjin commented, glancing at me. “Interested in eating out again tomorrow, Y/N?”

“Only if you pay,” I replied dryly, watching Felix and Kara with intent.

“I can’t stand this,” Changbin declared, attempting to blow our cover by rising to his full height.

I desperately tugged on his shirt. “They’ll see us!”

“I don’t care,” Changbin grunted, pulling away from me only to march down the staircase to where Felix and Kara were laughing together over a meal of what appeared to be filet mignon and cabernet.

“Should we watch or get involved?” I asked, grinning when Felix finally realized that Changbin had spotted them. The all-consuming look of existential dread passing across his features was well worth the price of admission, including an outrageous gratuity fee.

“Definitely watch,” Minho nodded, tossing an arm around my shoulders. “You did good, Y/N.”

“Unless Changbin causes a scene,” Hyunjin remarked.

“I hope he does because I can record it for Jisung later,” I said, letting out a satisfied grin when Changbin stopped at their table.

Minho was one step ahead of me, pressing the record button at the top of his phone. “Maybe we’ll become YouTube famous!”

“I can’t believe you told him,” Felix snapped at me later. The six of us were outside the restaurant, having decided to pull Changbin and Kara away from the reproachful eyes of the upper elite who wanted to dine in peace.

“Why wouldn’t I? I’m looking out for you.”

“By outing me to Changbin?”

“Of course,” I nodded, watching as Kara received a stern lecture from her older brother. “You can’t honestly be considering a relationship with Kara?”

“Is there something wrong with that?” Felix asked.

“You must have a selective memory,” I said. “Or did you forget what happened in high school?”

“That was a long time ago!”

“She also used you during college. Don’t tell me you think she came around campus just for your company?”

Hyunjin, from somewhere to my right, let out a low whistle. Minho stood next to him, taking in the drama unfolding around him with eager eyes. “I don’t care about any of that!” Felix protested. “Why can’t you just leave me alone?”

“Felix,” I said, lowering my tone. “I just want you to be happy.”

“Well you’re doing a really bad job with that,” Felix snapped.

“It’s not because I don’t want things to work out,” I said. “I just know who she is and what she’s capable of.”

“Is that so?”

“You were too, Felix! Everything she ever did to you was always in an effort to hurt you. That’s why I have to interfere, to make sure that she doesn’t do anything like that!”

“Yeah? Well, I don’t care. You aren’t my real sister, so stop trying to act like it!”

His words were crushing and I suddenly felt equivalent to the world’s smallest person as I watched Felix walk away into the haze of city lights.

Jisung was sunshine and he once told me that he would do everything in his power to make me happy, even getting down on one knee to propose at our college graduation ceremony, nervous hands sliding a beautiful ring onto my finger. Jisung always knew when I was feeling sad or angry, dropping everything that he had been working on to make me feel better. Like in instances such as this, when my step-brother publicly disowns me, walking away without looking back once to assess the damage he had made of my fragile heart. “I deserved it,” I told Jisung, closing my eyes against his chest as I enjoyed the soothing water of the bath he prepared for me.

“No, you didn’t,” Jisung countered, wrapping his arms tightly around my middle. “You thought you were helping him.”

“I guess I have no right to interfere,” I said. “Even if I’m worried that Kara will only hurt him again.”

“And she might,” Jisung agreed. “But I think Felix can handle it. Sometimes, you forget that he’s all grown up.”

“I ruined our relationship,” I said. “Felix won’t ever talk to me again and Kara is probably mad at Changbin.”

“Felix can’t avoid you,” Jisung said. “You have the same friends.”

“Ha,” I snorted. “You don’t know Felix very well. If he sets his mind to something, then there’s nothing that can stop him.”

“Actually, I do know Felix, and that’s why I’m pretty sure he’ll call you any day now and ask to talk.”

I turned around in his arms, trying to see any hint of teasing in Jisung’s brown eyes. “Why do you think that?”

“Because Felix respects you, even if you make him mad,” Jisung said, surprising me with a gentle kiss. “He told me all the time when we were younger that he thinks you’re one of the coolest people he’s ever met.”

“Felix said that?”

“Yeah,” Jisung nodded. “And I completely agree.”

“You’re obligated to say that,” I said. “Marriage and shit.”

“But I’ve always meant it, Y/N,” Jisung insisted. “You have a really good heart and you always have our best intentions in mind, even if that means you feel the need to spy on your step-brother.”

“Now it sounds creepy,” I complained.

“I can’t imagine you dragging around Changbin, Minho, and Hyunjin, hiding behind tables in the middle of an expensive restaurant.”

“That’s funny because I can’t imagine you in an expensive restaurant at all.”

“Really?” Jisung grinned, digging his fingers into my sides. “Try saying that again.”

I squealed in his arms, pleading for mercy. “I thought you wanted to relax?”

“This was all for you,” Jisung said, pulling me onto his lap. “I think we should go to bed early.”

“I am tired,” I smirked.

His cock was hard against my lower back. “What if I let you ride my face?”

“Then you’ll be the best husband in the world.”

The following Saturday, Jisung’s prediction came true when Felix’s name flashed across my phone screen while I enjoyed lunch with Seungmin and Jeongin. “It’s Felix,” I hissed at them before taking the call. “Hello?”

“Y/N,” Felix’s deep voice greeted me on the other end. “I hope you’re not busy.”

“I’m just having lunch,” I said, waving my hand at Seungmin who was attempting to mouth imperceptible words at me from across the table.

“I want to apologize for the other night with Kara,” Felix said. “At dad’s house and at the restaurant.”

“I’m sorry too, Felix,” I said. “I shouldn’t have told Changbin about his sister.”

“No,” Felix sighed. “But Changbin deserves to know the truth. He called me the other day and told me that Kara had left the next morning. She didn’t even bother telling him where she was going.”

I felt my heartbreak for my step-brother. “I didn’t think she would do that.”

“You don’t have to be nice, Y/N,” Felix said. “Everything you said about Kara was true and I should’ve listened.”

“I never did any of that to teach you a lesson, Felix.”

“Yeah,” Felix murmured into the phone. “It doesn't matter anymore. Kara’s gone and I’ll have to move on.”

“But I still feel really bad,” I said. “Maybe we could all hang out tonight? Like we did before we had adult things to worry about.”

Felix chuckled. “I think that sounds nice.”

“Keep your hands away from the food,” I scolded Jisung, giving his ass a firm slap before directing him out of the kitchen. “This is for the party tonight!”

“But it smells good,” Jisung complained.

“You can have as much as you want later,” I said, frowning at Changbin from across the room. “Are you trying to break my mother’s vase?”

The older boy scowled at me. “I can’t reach, alright? You were the one who asked me to decorate.”

“Please help him,” I said, sending Jisung rushing to hang up the streamers before Changbin could possibly sabotage our apartment. The others were due to arrive at any moment and I was already unprepared, food still cooking and my husband and his friend proving to be completely inept at decorating. I wanted everything to be nice for Felix, but honestly? He shouldn’t expect much from this crew.

Graciously, the arrival of Hyunjin brought about an extra few inches of height, allowing the streamers to hang gracefully from the mantlepiece. “What would you do without me, Y/N?” he inquired innocently, handing me the cake he had brought from our cafe.

“I’d need to buy a step ladder,” I teased him, rushing back into the safety of the kitchen to avoid his retaliation. In the meantime, Jisung happily answered the door for our other guests, ushering them inside to crowd our living room. Sadly, our apartment was never meant to be large enough to accommodate this many guests, but it was strangely cozy with all of us together.

“It’s been a while,” Chan remarked to Changbin. “Why don’t we do this sort of thing anymore?”

“Beats me,” Changbin replied. “But Y/N has a nice selection of wine.”

“I’m glad that’s the reason you come around,” I remarked, bringing out the final tray of food to fill out the rest of the table. “Whenever Felix gets here we can eat.”

“He shouldn’t be so late,” Minho said, trying his best to sneak a cube of cheese from the corner.

“Patience my friend,” I said. “It will make everything taste so much better.”

“Not with your cooking,” Minho teased, protesting when I threw my oven mitt at him over the counter separating the kitchen from the dining room.

“You’ll never change,” I remarked.

“Why would you want me to?” Minho asked, ignoring my glare when he grabbed a handful of popcorn.

“Do you want to be suspended from my house?”

“Jisung would never allow it,” he said, whining at my husband. “Right, Sungie?”

Jisung looked back and forth between the two of us. “You two are sometimes worse than my kids at school.”

Before I could offer a compelling comeback, the ringing of our doorbell paused our conversation. The sound indicated Felix’s arrival and Seungmin was the first to greet him, holding him close as they entered the dining room. “Nice of you to join us,” I said, handing my step-brother a plate. “This is all for you.”

“I’m honored,” Felix said, accent thick as he abruptly pulled me into a vice-like grip that nearly knocked me off my feet.

“Too much,” I choked out.

“Don’t kill my wife,” Jisung joked, intervening before Felix could possibly squeeze any more oxygen from my lungs.

The remainder of the evening passed by with a nostalgic tone, the nine of us gathered together in the living room to watch anime on TV while Hyunjin complained about our newest hiree again. “Hey,” he said, snapping his fingers in my direction. “He already had two strikes. One more mess-up and he’s gone.”

“He’s just a kid, Hyunjin,” I said. “Remember when you used to work at Starbucks? I’m surprised you even managed to stay on for an entire year!”

Hyunjin protested loudly over the laughter of 8 other people who clearly remembered sitting in Starbucks on Campus just to watch Hyunjin mess-up orders while whining at the customers to slow down when he was in charge of the register. “He gave me a macchiato when I asked for an Americano,” Minho said.

“One time, Hyunjin closed the store an hour early because he forgot about our project,” Seungmin interjected much to Hyunjin’s chagrin who was now very much embarrassed.

Jisung pulled me closer to him on the chair next to the fireplace, watching our friends talk with obvious affection. “I think Felix is happy.”

I nodded my agreement, observing him from afar. “We did a good job.”

“You did a good job,” Jisung corrected, leaning in closer to whisper directly into my ear. “I love you, Y/N.”

“Love you more,” I said, gripping tightly to Jisung’s hand with no intention of ever letting go because our hold on another had never lessened from the very first day we met as kids, unaware that we would be sharing the rest of our forever together.

#stray kids #stray kids fanfic #stray kids smut #han jisung #han jisung fanfic #han jisung smut #stray kids han #han fanfic #han smut

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detectivecutiepantsandhisbabyfox · 5 years ago

Note

How about the prompt “you can do anything you want to me” with Sledge and Snafu. Smut galore, please 😉

I received this fic prompt from my lovely friend @ramimedley and then only a few days later the wonderful @lis-alis posted the most beautiful Sledgefu artwork I have ever seen, and my brain immediately exploded. This prompt and the art belong together.

I have permission from @lis-alis to re-post her art work here with the fic that was inspired by it. All credit to them and their simply brilliant work. The details in the art are gorgeous and I’ve tried to include them in the fic; and have hopefully done it justice.

This is a little different to how I write normally, but the art required a more gentle form of writing. I would greatly appreciate feedback on this as it’s new for me.

It’s under a cut because it got a little longer than intended (surprise, surprise) and will be posted on ao3 later.

I’d walk through fire for you (just let me adore you)

The blades of grass tickled Eugene’s shoulder blades as he lay down upon the lush green carpet. He paid it no mind; the sensation was blissful in comparison to grains of sand sticking to his sweaty back.

The sun prickled his skin, warming his face as he closed his eyes and turned towards it; like a sunflower, chasing its rays.

He arched his back, rolling his hips; sighing, and listening for the hitch of breath he knew he’d receive in return.

“I know watcha doin’ boo” Merriell drawled, grinning at Eugene’s own quick huff of breath at sound of his voice.

He blew out a plume of smoke, thick fingers tapping ash into the long grass, his eyes never leaving Eugene’s expanse of pale skin.

“Well ain’t that what we came here for?” Eugene asked, eyes still closed against the early evening sun.

“Teasin’ me Gene.”

“Get over here then.....won’t be teasin’.......we’ll be doin’.”

Merriell huffed out a laugh, watching transfixed as Gene’s long fingers trailed over his chest, stopping for a beat at his nipple before hitching his thumb in his dog tags.

Eugene heard Merriell’s bare feet moving in the long grass; neither of them bothered about any unknown wildlife living amongst the flowers and plants. He sat beside Eugene’s shoulder; his warm palm resting on Eugene’s pink skin, blunt thumb tracing circles around his erect nipple, smirk growing at Eugene’s stifled moan. He poked his bare toe into Eugene’s side; sliding it into the waistband of his dungarees.

Legs drawn to his chest, Merriell stared over the endless meadow as he finished his cigarette.

After only a few days here, his mind was still in the mud drenched fields of Okinawa, he found it hard to believe that now, here in China, he and Gene could finally, finally do the things the mud, shit, death and close proximity of others had prevented them from doing for so long.

Eugene stretched his arms above his head, rolling his head to the side to look at Merriell. He wished he could draw more than birds. Merriell’s profile was stunning against the golden pink sky behind him, Eugene wanted to immortalise him in a sketch book with charcoal and smudges of his thumb.

“Mer” he breathed, his own hot breath fanning over his tricep as he stretched from his fingers to his long toes. A small white butterfly emerged from the grass by his feet, his wiggling toes disturbing its peace.

Merriell turned to look at his boy, eyes raking over Eugene’s lean torso, taking in every inch of pale, unmarred skin. He licked his lips, mouth suddenly dry; Eugene letting slip a small whimper under Merriell’s stare.

He shuffled around, laying beside Eugene, settling on his stomach and propping his chin on his chest; his legs bent at the knee, the dirty soles of his feet heated by the sun as he swung his legs back and forth. Eyes zeroed in on Eugene’s lips, drawn in a small smile as Eugene’s own eyes flicked to Merriell’s plush smirk.

“What do you want?” he pressed a gentle kiss to Eugene’s nipple; flicking out his tongue, snake-like, running it round the hardened nub.

Eugene shivered at Merriell’s ministrations; what do you want? His question echoing in Eugene’s head.

Everything, anything; he just wanted, wanted whatever Merriell would give him.

“You can do whatever you like to me” his back arched up off the blades of grass; now flattened beneath him, a groan pulled from his throat, Merriell happily biting against his prominent collarbone.

“Yeah?” Merriell waited for Eugene’s eyes to open and meet his own before he raised his brows; heart hammering in his chest as his boy nodded gently, biting his lower lip. His chest heaved beneath his palms, pale skin pulled tight over his ribs.

Eugene’s cock pressed up against Merriell’s ass, heat seeping through two layers of worn dungarees. He shifted, Eugene’s eyes rolling back in his head.

“Jesus Christ” Eugene’s toes flexed, his breath quickening as Merriell took hold of his wrists. He gently laid them into the still, undisturbed grass at Eugene’s head; small insects taking into the humid air around them.

“Merriell” he gasped as Merriell rocked against him, his answering moan louder than Eugene dared to be.

“I wanna feel dat in me” he spoke to the air above Eugene’s face, staring off into the distance as Eugene chased his gaze.

“Gonna......hafta wait though.”

“Wha...at?” Eugene bucked his hips, whining. The thought of finally being inside Merriell like a fire burning inside his belly, his head woozy at the thought.

“Why?”

Merriell smiled at Eugene, eyes never leaving his as he whispered “cos........I brought you here for somethin’ else.......”

“You gonna murder me or somthin’ Mer?”

Merriell’s answering chuckle sent shivers up Eugene’s spine. His fingers flexed; hands still pinned to the cool grass.

“Can’t do what I have in mind at the barracks....”

Another “why?” Fell from Eugene’s lips, brow furrowing.

“Because.....boo.....” Merriell’s tongue licked against Eugene’s lips, a deep groan from Eugene’s chest swallowed by Merriell’s insistent mouth.

“......I’m gonna make you moan so loud......they’d hear you in downtown Peking.”

His mouth continued to press against Eugene’s own, inhaling the whines Eugene knew he had absolutely no control over.

Merriell pulled up watching the blush rise over Eugene’s cheeks to the tips of his ears, his cock twitched in his dungarees, the coarse material not unpleasant against the swollen head.

He knew that Eugene was loud, couldn’t contain his breathy moans and whines when all he’d done was bring him off with his hand in a dirty foxhole. Merriell needed to hear more of Eugene’s noise; was like a song to him, a song he needed stuck in his head like an over played record.

Eugene’s dungarees lay thrown amongst the flowers as Merriell rifled through the pockets of his own; his fingers finally landing on a small tin of Vaseline. Turning it over in his hands, he remembered the times he had felt it in his pack and wanted to rip it out, lather his fingers in it and push them inside Eugene.

Fingers shaking at the prospect of that now happening, he removed his own dungarees; throwing them over Eugene’s, their clothes mirroring them as he lay between Eugene’s spread thighs.

“Gene” Merriell murmured against Eugene’s belly button, drowning in the scent of his boy; standard issue soap, his sweat and unbridled lust.

His tongue trailed down the sparse hair towards his cock; “You tell me to stop.....if you don’t like it boo...”

“Never.” Gene’s hands were still next to his head; fingers twitching, pulling at the long blades of grass. Merriell hadn’t asked him to keep them there, but Eugene knew Merriell well enough to know how his mind worked.

Every muscle in Eugene’s body locked tight, Merriell’s lips dragging down his glistening cock. He’d wanted that mouth on him for a year, more maybe, and now it felt bittersweet. That first touch of Merriell’s lips to his cock was over. He mourned for it.

“Merriell.......please...” Eugene begged. His foot came up to rest against Merriell’s calf, flexing his toes against the soft hair, warm skin.

“I ain’t stopping here...” was all that fell from Merriell’s mouth before he sucked gently on one of Eugene’s balls.

“Fuuuck” Eugene wailed, Merriell’s grip around the base of his cock the only thing stopping him from the insane feeling he was gonna float away.

Merriell pushed on his thighs; pressing them outwards as he nosed at his balls and licked further down to where Eugene had never been touched.

“Please don’t feel you have to....” he muttered as he threw his head back; cheeks flaming red at where Merriell’s mouth was heading.

“Oh Cher....I’ve wanted to do this since the day I saw your bare ass on the beach.......I do hafta’” he grinned against Eugene’s soft thigh, fingers scooping the Vaseline from the small tin.

Merriell’s mouth watered as he pressed small kisses around Eugene’s taint, finally licking against him, his broad tongue lapping against his overheated skin.

“Merriell” Eugene sighed, his fingers now tangled in his own hair, feet against Merriell’s hot back as he held Eugene’s thighs open with his big hands.

Eugene was soothed by the sounds of nature surrounding him; chirrup of crickets, tweets of birds interspersed with the the obscene moans falling from Merriell’s mouth. The sound vibrating against the one place Eugene never imagined anyone would put their mouth. But god, it felt good; like nothing else.

And soon the cacophony of sound surrounding him had a new musician. His incessant whines and pleas filled the air alongside the birdsong.

“Mer” he pleaded as Merriell’s mouth sucked hard on his rim, sharp tongue poking at his hole. He could feel the tight ring of muscle giving way as he relaxed, as he felt his grassy bed might open up and swallow him whole.

Merriell came up for air, peering over his boy’s hard, red cock; laying flush against his belly.

“You good cher?” He wiped his chin against Eugene’s milky white thigh, startling as Eugene’s hand dropped into his curls; pushing him back down, down to where he needed him.

“Please......please Mer...don’t stop” Eugene’s whole body trembled, hand shaking in Merriell’s nest of curls. The smirk that took over Merriell’s face was only seen by Eugene’s ass, but Merriell had never felt so wanted in his life.

Running his hands along Eugene’s thighs, gently pushing them out, he listened to his boy plead above him; the sound like music to his ears.

“Mer.....so good....please please please...I wanna.......please Merriell.”

Placing his mouth back against Eugene, inhaling his scent, tasting him, confident he was making him feel good; Merriell was certain in that moment that Eugene would always be his.

Eugene shuddered as Merriell pushed a finger inside him, his ears rang with static and his whole being zeroed in on this new feeling. He’d had Merriell’s hand, mouth on his cock, his tongue in his mouth, lips on his skin; but now. Now a part of Merriell was inside of him and his body welcomed him with open arms.

“Fuck........oh my god yes.........” Eugene ignored the slight pain. He’d been through enough to know that this wasn’t real pain, this was excruciating pleasure. He pulled at his own hair again: soft auburn strands running through his restless fingers.

“Merriell...” he moaned as a wide finger searched inside him.

“You doin’ so good Gene.......” Merriell kissed around Eugene’s taint, watching his finger disappear inside his boy.

“Wanna hear you.........it feel good?”

“Yes......god yes...”

“You taste so good boy.......” Merriell pumped his finger faster now, curling inside velvety walls, lips sucking around Eugene’s loosening rim.

Eugene felt himself flush deeply at Merriell’s words. That anyone could say that about that part of his body was inexplicable to him, but his traitorous body thought different, his back arching and mouth opening wide on a moan that he had no control over.

“Oh I love you” Merriell gasped as his finger curled in just the right spot and Eugene sobbed, as his cock jumped.

“Kiss me.......please Mer...” Eugene pleaded, his whole body a mess of shaking limbs and flushed, sweaty skin.

Merriell dragged his body up Eugene’s slippery sweat soaked chest, cocks sliding together as Eugene grabbed the back of Merriell’s neck, pulling him to his mouth, tasting himself on Merriell’s tongue. Once again his body reacted before his brain could register just where his tongue had been and he cried out under Merriell’s lips.

“I..........love.......fuck I love you” he sobbed,

“Can......can I....come like that?”

Merriell pulled his mouth from Eugene’s neck, meeting his watery eyes.

“Sure....boo......” Merriell smiled softly, not his usual smirk; Eugene’s heart seeming to grow ten sizes in his chest, like one of those cartoon characters in the paper.

“Just you enjoy it baby” he murmured as he slithered back down Eugene’s body, finger immediately tracing his hole before pushing gently inside.

Eugene stared up at the soft white clouds; they, like him, were tinged pink from the early evening sun. He gasped as Merriell added a second finger, his pink tinge now deepening from the person as important to him as the sun was to the earth.

Merriell pushed his hips into the grass below him, grunting at the friction; his cock was hard and heavy. He felt strung tight at just watching three of his fingers enter Eugene, he held his breath, waiting. Any sound of pain and he’d stop.

“Fuck....oh god...yes...” Eugene rolled his hips, pushing down on Merriell’s fingers, chasing the feeling.

“So good.........don’t stop.....please don’t stop..” his pleading filled the air around him, ringing in Merriell’s ears, that warm tightness coiling in his belly and winding its way round the base of his spine. The sun still warm on his back was nothing compared to the heat coursing through him at watching his boy come apart.

He was even more beautiful than Merriell had ever imagined. He’d watched him as his cock had released over the hand jammed down his dungarees in a shitty foxhole. Watched as his smart mouth had gone slack, eyes screwed shut; cheeks flushed. But watching him now, Merriell had never believed he could witness

such a sight.

He took a deep breath, moving onto his knees between Eugene’s spread thighs. Groaning softly as he took his own cock in hand he stroked himself slowly, languidly, much like the air and wildlife around them; everything moved with syrup-like speed. Like they had all the time in the world.

Eugene stared at Merriell; his fingers curling over and over inside him, bringing him closer and closer to blissful release. His large hand moved over his cock, Eugene almost reaching out to grab his own but fisting the grass by his sides instead.

“Mer...” Eugene’s voice was hoarse, the pollen- sticky air and wonton moaning making his throat itchy.

“Close......I’m......just please....” Eugene fidgeted his hips, planting his feet in the flower laden grass and pushing himself down hard onto Merriell’s fingers, once, twice, again and again as he threw his head back groaning.

“Gene.........” Merriell breathed, taking his hand off his cock and caressing Eugene’s shaking thigh.

“So beautiful........my beautiful boy....let go baby...”

“Merriell.......” Eugene cried, tears dripping down his cheeks; rolling into the grass, quenching their thirst as Merriell’s fingers curled over and over inside him.

“Yes.......yes......” Eugene wailed, grateful for the open space to allow his body to just feel, react.

His body locked, rigid, as he he felt himself falling into the endless grass below him, weightless as his body cried out in sheer pleasure, Merriell’s fingers still caressing him from the inside out. Never faltering; even as his own pleasure climaxed, painting his own hand and Eugene’s rim in white ribbons.

“Gene......” Merriell panted, eyes still closed in bliss, “Gene....”

His fingers still inside his boy, he opened his eyes, watching curiously as come dripped onto the grass below.

“Gonna clean you up” his whisper seemed loud, the insects and birds the only sounds around them once more.

The warm air and soothing sounds, wrapped around Eugene as he attempted to rouse himself and sit up on his elbows. Arms like jelly, he decided against it and fell back against the nest-like grass.

He let out a pleased hum, his mouth stretching wide as he felt Merriell’s curls against the side of his thigh, soft and warm.

“Oh........” he swallowed, his dry throat clicking as Merriell’s tongue lapped around his rim as he gently pulled his fingers from inside Eugene.

“Mer......” his whine was pitiful to his own ears as he felt his rim clench.

“I know boo......ain’t the nicest....” Merriell would have kept his fingers in there forever if he could. Just to watch what he had witnessed, on repeat again and again.

Merriell wiped his fingers on the grass, as he moved up to Eugene’s cock, licking the head and lapping up the white stripes that contrasted with Eugene’s pink skin.

“You need sunblock boo.... burning up” Merriell rested his chin just below Eugene’s ribs; peering up at his angular jaw dusted with auburn stubble. He was so goddamn beautiful and he didn’t even know it.

“C’mere” he rasped.

Eugene turned them on their sides as Merriell moved up his body, Merriell pillowing his head on Eugene’s bicep.

His fingers traced Merriell’s face, lightly scratching at the curls by his ear and smiling at Merriell’s shiver.

“Thank you.......I.....It’s never felt that good” he felt himself blush, Merriell watching wide eyed.

He waggled his fingers in Eugene’s face, as he sniggered, Eugene pushing them away as he grimaced.

“I wanna make you feel good” Eugene softy dragged his lips across Merriell’s.

“You did Gene......so good.....just watching you...” letting out a sigh he drew Eugene in by the back of the neck; pulling at his short hair.

“I wanna....you know....next time” his words ghosted over Merriell’s swollen lips.

“Well I ain’t gonna say no to that” he rolled his hips against Eugene’s, groaning.

“But how ‘bout we make it this time?”

He grinned as Eugene pushed him onto his back, falling between his legs.

The music of the meadow continued on, soon filled with their newest musicians once again.

#sledgefu #snafu shelton #Eugene sledge #my fic #fic prompt #sledgefu art #@ ramimedley #@lis-alis

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writing-the-end · 4 years ago

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WS Chapter 52- Dragon’s Nest

Previous Chapter

Masterpost

Yinz better be seeing this around 2015 wednesday, lets hope this whole scheduling thing, cause I aint pullin out my laptop in the middle of an AJR concert we’re already planning weird ass shit for our car.One more cute chapter before endgame! I’m so excited for you all to finally see what we’ve been hinting at for months!

Also can you tell that i really like thunderstorms and associate dragons with lightning?

Red belongs to @theguardiansofredland

Ecto belongs to @cooler-cactus-block

“Avon, Jessie caught a silverfish again.” Ecto holds the dragonet up, limbs dangling in the air as she snaps her ivory dagger teeth into the bug. They’ve set up a small camp, more permanent than any of their other night encampments. A little home sheltering them from the elements, mostly built by Red. He’s a good builder, the home including a small flower garden and layered roofing. He had limited materials, but it’s still rustic and cute.

“I thought she grew out of chasing those when I showed her how to swim?” Red questions, trying to pull the spiky bug out of the baby’s mouth. But before he can grab it, Jessie swallows.

“Once she gets big enough, she’ll stop chasing them.” Avon waves it off, plucking Jessie free. She clambers onto Avon’s shoulder, small claws gripping into the leather pauldron to hold on. “Jessie, wouldn’t you rather have some rabbit?”

The baby chirps and flaps her wings, but never truly attempts to take off. She wiggles her tail, ears pricking up and listening to the forest around her. Listening for food. Ecto tugs on Jessie’s wing, the thin black membrane still soft and new. “When will she learn to fly? I thought she’d learn by now.”

“We should teach her!” Red picks a flower, offering the poppy to Jessie. The dragonet snaps at the flower, before lightly pawing the petals. She takes a delicate hold of the gift from Red, curling up on Avon’s shoulder and watching the flower between her paws. “How...how do you teach a dragon to fly?”

“For me, it was years of trial and error. And jumping off roofs.” Avon shivers as she remembers her tumbles.

“Isn’t being underwater just like flying?” Ecto questions.

“That’s space, and no.” Avon picks up sticks, crafting a campfire to make their lunch. They’ve been working hard on setting up defenses, figuring out a plan. First, they’ll prepare the grounds for the upcoming final fight. Mapping out bottlenecks, traps, and places where the wanderer’s affinities can shine through. After, they’ll gather their army. “Maybe I can take her flying with me on patrol one day.”

“Or I can stack up a cactus pillar, and she can jump and learn to glide!” Ecto’s eyes glimmer at the chance to build another monolith.

“We can focus on teaching her after we survive this. We need to get back to work- it’s going to storm later.” Avon tosses cooked porkchops to her friends. “How’re the sand traps going, Ecto?”

“It feels good to have grains stuck under my nails again.” She grins, pulling off her boot and dumping half the desert out of her shoe.

“Couldn’t you just use a shovel?” Red questions, tilting his head. Wouldn’t it take longer for Ecto to use her hands, even with the time spent making shovels.

“Why would I waste time on a shovel when my hands work just as well?” Ecto laughs, biting into her meal. Red and Avon chuckle, shaking their heads. Of course, what an Ecto response. Ecto’s logic is sound, if a bit strange. But they love her weird, wacky, wonderful ideas. “I’ve been collecting cacti to put at the bottom of the pitfalls. If the hellspawns survive the drop, the cactus will definitely take care of them.”

Avon nods, giving a bite of the cooked meat to the snappy mouth at her neck, feeling Jessie’s wings flutter in her hair. But Red is less excited about the news. She knows that the hellspawns won’t hesitate to kill them. That they’d show no mercy. But Red just isn’t the killing type. She’s not a fighter like Ecto and Avon. They tried talking to them, and their kindness was only met with violence.

But maybe actions speak louder than words? “Do we have to kill them? Can’t we just...I dunno, stop them?”

Avon grimaces, setting Jessie on the ground. “We talked about this before, Red…”

“I know,” Red turns his head away, watching the rolling storm clouds build over the ocean in the distance. “I just want everyone to be happy. You don’t think there’s any way we can show them that being open and accepting would change their mind?”

“I don’t think they can be shown that. They're too far gone.” Ecto sets her hand on Red’s shoulder, trying to comfort the crestfallen kipling. “They’re our enemies.”

“You and Avon were enemies. You two always tussled when we first met. What changed that?” Avon and Ecto look at each other, jaws slack. “You two got to know each other. Opened up, and were kind. Can’t we at least try to show them that? Maybe not with words, but maybe...if we don’t kill them, just defeat them and show them how great difference is, we can make things better for everyone.”

Red watches both their faces. Avon bites her lip, the twinge of revenge still in her eyes. She wants to get justice for Jeane’s death. But Red’s point was compelling. Ecto was stern in her gaze, but she spoke up first. “Why don’t we compromise… we’ll try to defeat them, try to show them kindness. I won’t make the traps deadly- if they choose not to fight, if they see sense and find kindness like you hope, we can help them. But… some may be beyond talking to. They won’t agree no matter what.”

“That… I think that’s a good idea.” Red nods. He’s taking the unusual path this time, that Ecto usually takes. But he’s too empathetic. Maybe scaring the hellspawns, beating them and then opening up to them like Ecto and Avon did will lead to decreased tensions. He saw doubt in Nova’s eyes, pause in Endo’s voice. There is a chance to redeem them. But he knows that an endless cycle of battle, like the tides berating the shore, will only follow all out war.

The wanderers go back to work, despite the angry storm clouds creeping up on them. Pools of water appear across the landscape, small chests full of food, potions, and armor hidden among the grass, and simple traps are set up by Ecto and Red. Avon hovers above, taking notes on a map between her work digging trenches and barriers.

Each wanderer takes turns caring for Jessie. If there’s one thing the three have discovered, it’s that Jessie inherited her mother’s proclivity towards blankets. Stealing sheets from their beds, Avon’s cloak while it’s tossed aside, or even Ecto’s scarves from right off her neck, Jessie will drag the massive fabric between her legs, hobbling into a little nest built in the corner of the cabin and burying herself until it’s just chitters and chirps and a peek of glowing purple eyes to find the infant. Her wings flap and flutter, never truly taking her off the ground. But sometimes she gets close, especially when Ecto tosses her in the air, only to catch her on the way down, or while mimicking Avon’s wings.

Jessie may not have Jeane, but she does have the wanderers. Red, and all his cooking and babysitting skills. Ecto, wild one that is intent on seeing Jessie fly and teach her survival. And Avon, the closest thing to another dragon she has. Sometimes, her chitters almost sound like draconic words. But it’s still baby talk. She busies herself playing with just about anything, whether it’s hunting rabbits and silverfish, or swimming in the pools that Red has constructed.

The work, preparing the field and babysitting the rambunctious dragonet, is only interrupted by the storm. A heavy downpour of rain sends the wanderers and baby dragon under the safety of the awning before the cabin. Red sits, quite proud of his work keeping them dry. Jessie curls up beside Avon, watching her first rainshower with pricked ears and curious eyes. Her wings flutter, spreading out as a few drops fall on her wings.

Lightning streaks across the sky, tendrils of energy reaching out, before sky connects to ground and a flashing channel of light careens from the roiling clouds to the field below. Before the lightning has dissipated, the thunder sweeps across the terrain. A loud snapping crash, of air suddenly expanding and contracting at the heat of the lightning. Colliding and crushing, sweeping into the empty air with the scent of fresh ozone.

Even for the wanderers, who enjoy nature's light show, the thunder rocks their bodies. But it’s Jessie’s first storm, her first thunder clap. Her ears flatten against her head, eyes wide and staring in the direction of the bolt. She scrabbles back, hiding beneath the safety of Avon's wing.

She's shaking. Red presses his lips together, before scooting to Avon’s side. Ecto offers a hand, luring Jessie from her hiding spot. Jessie settles into Ecto’s lap, shaking like a leaf as Red attempts to calm her down. "I know, storms can be scary. They're so strong, so wild. I used to be afraid of storms too. I hated how loud they were.

"But when I met Selene, she told me how incredible lightning really is." Red leans close to Jessie, and all of them settle in for another story woven by him. "She showed me how to see the beauty in the danger, respect the strength. Nature's own fireworks. We'd sit and watch the storms together, and I learned to love the sound of thunder. Bringing energy to the world."

Avon smiles, leaning back. Watching another forking stretch claw along the sky. It doesn't find ground, and fades to a soft rumble. "There was a book I read once, from the stronghold. Alchemists and sorcerers believe that lightning is the key to life. The spark that started all this. A catalyst to every living thing, ever villager and dragon, cactus and guardian."

"So lightning is like our mother." Ecto breathes, eyes following the flash channel. "Everything started with one lightning bolt."

Thunder crashes, rumbling against their bones and shaking the trees. But Jessie isn't scared this time. She crawls out of Ecto's lap, away from the pets and comfort. Grey wings stay tucked close, far from being caught by the wild wind. Her tail drags against the grass, looping around her as she sits. With a tilt of the head, Jessie gazes at the lightning storm. Watches with curious, nervous eyes as lightning ignites a tree. The rain extinguished it.

And when the thunder rolls along, Jessie feels the excitement of life that the wanderers share.

#wandering stars #ecto #avon #red #minecraft #mineblr #minesona #mcsona #minecraft persona #writing #baby dragons

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loveafterthefact · 4 years ago

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Love After the Fact Chapter 68: Let’s Take a Walk

Lance and Keith spend a day together, enjoying Keith's birth quintant.

First Previous Next

Keith wakes up alone, which he doesn’t like because he’s been spoiled. Ears swiveling, he can hear Lance puttering about in the main room. Sighing, the Galra snuggles back into the blankets, not quite willing to surrender his current comfort.

A weight settles next to him. “Hey, beloved. Good morning.”

Keith’s eyes flutter back open, eyeing his spouse and the small pile in his lap. “Good morning. What’s all that?”

“Well, your mother told me that today is the quintant of your birth.”

“Oh. I kind of... forgot?”

“She said you might have. But rest assured, I will never forget. Get used to getting presents.”

“Are those the things you bought from Vrek and Ilun? Not much of a present if I know what it is.” It’s a tease, but judging by the quirk of a starlit eyebrow, it’s taken as a challenge.

“Oh, I think you’ll be delighted.” Smirking a little, Lance sits on the edge of the hanging bed, pushing it back and forth with his leg in a slow, swinging motion. “You are frustratingly indifferent to superficial things, so if you show interest in anything, I'm going to notice.”

Lance sets the pelts and the boxes in front of Keith, smiling. He runs a gentle hand through the young Galra’s hair. The Galra gazes up at his mate, endeared by his efforts. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. Now open your presents! I never get to give you presents!”

“I don’t know that you’ve ever tried to give me presents,” Keith murmurs, lifting the smaller box.

“Yes, because you never take an interest.”

“Not in anything you can get on Altea. It’s harder for me to get things from my own planet- Oh.” Keith’s eyes light up at the loose stones, amber, already polished. “Lance, these are beautiful.”

“I know you probably wanted finished pieces, but I figured we could give them to Vetroneius. Have them make something special for you. There’s plenty there.”

“You didn’t give the hunters enough for this while they were in town. How did you-” Keith’s amethyst eyes narrow, watching Lance squirm with guilt. “Did you trade all of your jewelry?”

“Everything I brought with me, except my belly button piece and my crown. But you’re right. You have so little from home, and I should have done something about that a long time ago.”

“I could have done something about it, too.” Keith smiles. “But thank you. I wonder if Vetroneius could make me some clothes in indigo. It would look nice with these, and be more like what nobility wears here.”

“I think that sounds wonderful. You’re a Prince of Altea, but you’re also Galra, and we shouldn’t ignore that. We should celebrate it. Now.” Lance claps his hands together, sets them on the other box. “This is the special present. For your birth quintant, which you didn’t tell me about. Because you’re the worst. But you’re also mine, and I love you, so I hope you like it.”

Keith chuckles, always charmed by Lance’s cheerful sense of humor. He opens the box. It’s a gold hair comb, an elegant, arcing spray of gold leaves, flowers, and tendrils adorned with small pieces of amber. “Oh, Lance. This is for me?”

“Yes, of course. You asked for it, remember? Well not this specifically, but when Ilun showed it to me… I thought you’d like it. And I wanted you to have something nice from home.”

“It’s beautiful. Thank you.” Keith brushes a loose lock of hair over his shoulder, trying not to show how moved he is, even as his throat tightens a bit. “I don’t even know what to say.”

He’s never had something like this. Everything he was given after Shiro brought him into the city were necessities: clothes, tools, weapons, armor- all the things a Galra needs to live on Daibazaal. Everything Vetroneius and their team make for him always feel impersonal. But this comb… Lance chose this from among many items because he thought Keith would like it.

And he does. It’s gorgeous, it’s something from home, and Lance chose it for him.

“You really like it?” the Altean asks, licking his lips nervously.

Keith pulls him into an embrace, touched. “I love it. Thank you.”

“You are so welcome, beloved.” Lance squeezes him tight, but then draws away. Far too soon, which Lance picks up on. He settles in a bit more, letting Keith climb into his lap.

“You should get me presents from home more often,” Keith murmurs. “I’m going to have Thace send some more vakalt pelts if any come in with a party. For our kit,” he explains. “Vakalt pelts are so soft and hold warmth very well. And they’re oddly good at holding scents, so we can make them smell like us. It’ll make our kit feel safer when they’re first born, especially if you and I have to work separately.”

“Of course. We’ll have to figure out a way to send currency of some kind.”

“He’ll just get them for us, and we’ll owe him a favor or two. Reciprocity is what keeps our society moving. I’m sure you’re charmed by the rural atmosphere, but the truth is so many of our resources, including medicine, electric heat, comms devices, and stuff like that, are given to the military. We’re left with nothing more than what you’ve seen.”

“Your resources are spread quite thin, huh?”

“Not thin. Uneven. It frustrates Lotor to no end. He hasn’t mentioned it to you I don’t think, but his relationship with his father is strained because of it.” Keith rests his head on Lance’s shoulder, admiring his gifts, running the soft fur of the pelts beneath his fingers. Lance does the same, mimicking Keith’s motions, working his scent into the fur.

“Hm, a progressive young adult not getting along with their father? I never would have thought- Come here.”

The Altean wraps an arm around Keith’s still slender waist, kisses him soundly. Keith purrs, wraps his tail around Lance’s ankle as Lance licks into his mouth.

“Lance, we-” Keith lets Lance kiss past his words. “We have stuff to do.”

“We actually don't- Hm. I just have the most beautiful spouse ever, and I love him an awful lot. I just can’t help myself.” Lance’s blue and pink eyes look him up and down, Keith suddenly anxious beneath his gaze.

“What?”

“Nothing. Just- You’re different. I see it quite suddenly now.” Lance reaches up, brushes hair out of Keith’s eyes. “Taller, broader shoulders, like you said. Still quiet… But a more confident kind of quiet.”

“Do you like it?” Keith murmurs, pressing their brows together, letting his eyes flutter closed.

“You’re perfect. You’ve always been perfect. You'll always be perfect.” Lance brushes a thumb over Keith’s cheek. “Now come on. Get moving, before I keep you here all day.”

“I have concerns about your impulse control.”

“Oh, Ancients, me too. Go take your bath while I cook breakfast.” Lance kisses his cheek, flits outside.

Keith smiles, resting his head on his knees, tail thumping against the bed. He spies BleepBloop running after Lance, no doubt hoping for an offering. A buzzing sound fills Keith’s ears. His datapad. A glance reveals it’s his mother, probably calling to congratulate him on his birth quintant. Keith licks his lips, glances after Lance, declines the call. He doesn’t want to speak to his mother right now. The words he needs to say to her are ugly, and will be unpleasant for them both. Now isn’t the time.

“I want to go foraging,” Keith declares later, pushing away his bowl. “Will you come with me?”

“Of course!” Lance leaps up, heading outside to clean the bowls with sand the way Keith showed him last night. “Will you show me some things?”

“Sure. come on.”

Lance is not difficult to entertain. It’s one of the things Keith loves most about him. The Altean prince finds pleasure in the simplest things. Hence, they spend the morning wandering about the forest, Lance exploring, Keith enjoying being back on his home turf.

“What’s this?”

“A lichen.”

“What’s it do?”

“Grow?”

“Worst field trip ever, beloved.” Lance giggles, nose wrinkling with the playful quip.

“Uh… I used to put it around my garden to keep bugs away?”

“Amazing!” Lance squeals, gazing delighted at a clump of bright blue lichen clinging to a branch. Keith shakes his head, biting his lip against a smile of his own as he bends down to harvest some herbs from a log.

They spend most of the quintant in the forest. Keith shows him the trees and the shrubs, what plants he used to make medicine when he felt sick, or when his bones hurt, or when he was injured and got an infection. Keith shows Lance how to dig for yaro root at the lake's edge, and harvest nuts and fruits from the trees. He shows him how to find insects to roast on a fire, and how to eat them. He shows him how to make fire.

“I never expected to see my Altean mate sitting on the bare ground, eating a ten-legged terror.”

Lance rips off another crunchy leg, leaving only three attached to a lumpy bug body. “It tastes good. I’ve never eaten a bug before.”

“Tourist.” Keith munches on his own terrors. He’s trying to store up some extra nutrients before his season, in the hopes it might increase his chances of a successful pregnancy. He doesn’t trust his body in the slightest. It demands more than it should already.

“You okay?” Lance asks as they finish up, nibbling on the last of his fruit.

“I’m just thinking?”

“About?”

“Lots of things.” Keith glances up, watching BleepBloop leap through the trees. “My kittenhood.”

“Any good memories?”

“TreeTrunks teaching me how to hunt bugs. That was good.”

“TreeTrunks?”

“BleepBloop’s mom. She died when my dad did, but she helped raise me, in a weird way.” Keith slips his hand into Lance’s. “I learned to hear what she heard, see what she saw. Watching her, I learned what sounds to be afraid of and what sounds meant food. I owe my life to her.”

“Maybe BleepBloop can teach our kids some skills too, huh? We should bring them back here. You can teach them about where they come from.”

“Yeah. Yeah, we should. I think they'd love it out here.”

Later in the day, Keith takes Lance out of the forest, back onto the tundra. They make a campfire under the stars, cook fish and vegetables on sticks. As the typical cold of sunset begins to bite, Lance bundles up in their cloaks with BleepBloop in his lap, watching Keith kick dirt on the fire. Once Keith determines that he's not going to burn down the tundra, he snuggles into Lance's cloak bundle, purring softly. It seems Lance is never going to get over that; he loves hearing that sound, knowing it means Keith is happy.

They sit in the black night, and Keith turns his eyes to the sky.

“I was born on this quintant two centaphoebs ago. I would have remembered it now.”

“How?”

“Look up.”

Lance looks up, expecting to see stars, and instead seeing a huge expanse of pitch black blocking them out. “Mom says that on the day I was born, the moons were new at the same time. That only happens once every centaphoeb. Down here, planetside, quintants all tend to bleed together. Birth quintants tend to be forgotten. But once every cetaphoeb, I know exactly how old I am.”

Lance stares up at the vast blackness. It’s frightening, almost, gazing at nothing where there should be stars. He hadn’t noticed the increasing darkness. He’s spent most nights huddled in their bed, fighting off the biting cold of Daibazaani nights. "Ancients."

“It was scary… Last time it happened. I was all alone, and it was so dark. When the moons are both new, none of the lizards glow, and the gleam blossoms close, so there was literally no light. I couldn’t even see. My eyes are stronger now, because I’m older, but back then… It was like I was blind.”

“That must have been awful.” Lance finds Keith’s cold-bitten hand, squeezes it tight.

“Yeah. I was still really small. Way smaller than I am now, even. I was the perfect snack for a lot of forest predators. Gintars in particular were always coming around trying to sniff me out.”

“And what’s a gintar?”

“A gintar is an eight-legged serpent with weirdly soft, wrinkly skin. Like they should have hair, but don’t.”

“That sounds… so gross.”

“Creepy and gross. All the legs are like, just behind their weird triangle heads and then they’re just tail.”

“Nasty! Ew! Why does that exist?”

“I have no idea. I wish they didn’t.” Keith sighs, staring up at the distinct blackness that commemorates his birth. “Twenty decaphoebs. Two centaphoebs. I can’t believe it.”

“You’re so old,” Lance teases. “I’m married to an old man.”

“Shut up!” Keith jabs an elbow into his mate, laughing. “I’m not that much older!”

“About thirteen phoebs. So no, not that much older. Old enough for me to tease you.” Lance shivers. “It’s freezing out here.”

“Is that your way of saying you’re ready to go in?”

“Kind of? Yes. The sky is creepy. Awesome, but a little disturbing.”

“Agreed. You should make a light for us so we can get back,” Keith whispers, just a touch closer to Lance’s ear than necessary.

“O-Okay.” Lance makes a werelight in record time, a pale light in the black of the hovering abyss. The Altean beams, scales glowing in the dark, Keith’s amber-gleaming eyes shining back. “There you are.”

“Here we are,” Keith murmurs, smiling, tipping their foreheads together. “Thank you for today. It’s been… forever since my birth was celebrated. I’m glad I got to share it with you.”

“Me too, beloved.” Lance’s smile is one of the sweetest Keith’s ever beheld. The Altean lays a hand against his cheek, and Keith leans into it with a sigh, purring with affection.

Walking back, arms around each other, cloaks over their shoulders, the two laugh and carry on, tripping over each other’s feet before tumbling into bed. Lance makes a playful quip, kissing Keith’s cheek. Keith teases back. They laugh, fingers in hair, in fur, tracing over skin and scales. Lips on lips. For Keith, it’s the beginning of another decaphoeb. For them both, it’s the beginning of everything.

#LoveAftertheFact #LAtF #klance #galtean au #altean lance #galra keith #adashi #altean adam #galra shiro #voltron legendary defender #vld

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shanastoryteller · 7 years ago

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Hey so I've loved your Retold Fairytales for some time but I just binged your entire Gods and Monsters and I??? love Styx. A lot. And I'm curious about Hephaestus and Styx growing up as best friends in the Underworld. If you could work your magic when you have the time, I'd love to see a story about them!

Styx does not have a homein the underworld, not really. She has a room in Hades’s palace, of course, anda nook in Hecate’s house. Charon has acottage by her river, a humble thing for a being of such great power, and she’sshoved her way onto his narrow bed and curled into the warmth of his chest morethan once. She darts through the horrors of Tartarus, and plays in the ElysiumFields.

All of the underworld is open to her, and she’s lived herethe entirety of her existence. But she’s yet to find a piece of it that feelsas if it belongs to her, that doesn’tfeel borrowed.

Hecate brings home a baby with no legs beneath the knee andwide, curious eyes.

Styx adores him instantly.

Hecate is a busy woman – her duties in the underworld keepher constantly moving, and she spends much of her time shrouded in her secrets.She is the goddess of magic, and there are things that only she can do, thingsthat other people can’t even know about. She is not a person with much time tospare, and babies take a lot of time.

Hades watches him often, directing the traffic of souls andoverseeing construction with the child held to his chest. Charon fashions asling, and the baby sleeps against his back while Charon ferries souls acrossher river.

Time passes. The baby is not like her.

The baby grows.

Hephaestus is a child, and he lives in a dangerous place.His aunt raises him, and she is a busy woman who does important things, and itseems to him like nothing in their home is safe to touch, that it is all cursedor corrosive or even, at time, sentient.

The palace is not much better. Hades always welcomes him,has a warm smile for him, but is too busy to linger. He walks on wobbly legs ofglass that Aunt Hecate fashioned for him, and they allow him to walk, but theypain him too. He cannot run or jump, he cannot explore the edges of the underworldlike he so desperately wants to because his legs are delicate, clumsy things.They are glass, and they shatter too easily.

“Don’t be sad,” a voice says in his ear, and he’s grinningbefore he even turns around. Lady Styx is there, smiling at him. She looks tobe his age, although she is much older, and she has black skin and grey hairand eyes. Her skin is the color of her river’s water, and her hair and eyes thecolor of the foam when it rushes too fast. For as long as he can remember, shehas always had kindness to spare.

“I’m not sad,” he says stubbornly. “Aren’t you busy?” She isa goddess, one as powerful and important as his aunt or Hades. He wants to growup to be just like her.

She shrugs, “My river knows what to do. Do you want to go onan adventure?”

“Yes,” he says instantly. The only time he’s allowed toexplore is when Styx is with him. If his glass legs break, she can carry him,and if anything tries to attack or hurt them, she can stop it.

She grabs his hand, smiling. It’s cold. She’s always cold,the same icy temperature as her river. “There are volcanos in Tartarus. Have Itaken you there before?”

He shakes his head, and in the next instant they’re gone.

Styx and Hephaestus manage to get in all manner of trouble,including, but not limited to: accidentally giving Cerberus two extra heads,devising and implementing a manner of torture for Tantalus that is so brilliantHades can’t even get mad at them for it, and figuring out it is possible to surf of Styx’s roughwaters with glass legs, but only if you’re very, very stupid and have thegoddess in question by your side and laughing so hard she forgets that herprimary job here is to prevent you from dying.

When he’d found them, Hades had given them the worstadmonishment he knew how to give: a disappointed frown. Hecate had laughed andtold them to be careful of his legs.

Hephaestus’s childhood had its bright spots. Almost all ofthose bright spots included Styx.

Hephaestus looks older than her now, a young man when sheis, as always, a child. He’s gotten quieter as he ages, his dark eyespermanently thoughtful.

“You shouldn’t come here without me,” she scolds, sittingdown beside him. He doesn’t respond, swinging his hammer down on glowing metalwith a boom loud enough that the volcano shakes with it. “You know Hecatedoesn’t like you going into Tartarus alone.”

“You were busy,” he says, not accusatory, just a statementof fact. “Here, cool this for me.”

She sighs, but cool water rushes from her hands and onto thesuperheated metal. It hisses and steams, but when the air clears Hephaestusholds it up and appears to be satisfied. “Must it be in a volcano? We can makeyou a forge in safer part of the underworld.”

“Volcanos are useful,” he says, the same answer he alwaysgives her. “I have more of these to do if you want to stick around.”

Helping him build whatever he’s currently working on ispretty boring. But he’s her friend, and it must be important if he’s riskinghis life by going into Tartarus on his glass legs to do it. “Sure,” she sighsslumping down to sit crosslegged next to him. He pats her on the head, whichshe’s all prepared to be insulted by - she’s a kid, but she’s not a kid – when she sees his lips curled up aroundthe corners of his mouth. He’s making fun of her on purpose, which is stillannoying, but is less hurtful than him treating her like a kid just because helooks older.

The first set of legs that Hephaestus makes for himself aremade of iron. They’re not as pretty as he’d like them to be, but that’s allright. He can run in these legs, jump in them, fight in them. He is no longer abeing made of glass, no longer someone who can be easily broken.

Styx is the first person he shows them to. He leaps andsomersaults in them, something he could never do before. She’s delighted atfirst, smiling and clapping, but by the time he finishes, arms out-thrown andbeaming, she’s wilted. She sits hunched and tries to keep her smile in place,but it’s trembling.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, kneeling in front of her. “Ithought you would be happy for me.”

“I am!” she hiccups, and now she’s crying, big fat tearsthat he wants to wipe away but can’t. She cries the water of her river. If hetouches them, he’ll burn. “I am happy!’

He risks it, tugging the end of his sleeve down to quicklywipe her left cheek, then ripping it and throwing the cloth away as it burns.“You don’t look happy.”

“You’re going to leave,” she says, and he goes cold. “Youhave legs, and now you’re going to leave, and I’m not. I am the Goddess of theRiver Styx, I must stay with my river. But you’re going to leave.”

His heart breaks seeing Styx cry. He loves Hecate, lovesCharon, loves Hades. But if there is one person in this realm he can truly callfamily, it is her. They share no blood, but she’s the only sister he’s everknown. “I’ll visit! You can visit me too. I wasn’t born here, Styx. Hecateisn’t my mom. I was born on Olympus, and I can’t hide in the underworld fromHera forever. I don’t want toeither.”

“I know!” she says, her breath coming in stuttering gasps asshe tries and fails to stop crying. “You’re so smart, and all the things youmake are amazing. You need to go out there, so other gods can see you, so thatpeople can see you. I just – I’m going to miss you.”

He’s a god – a little river water won’t kill him. He pullsStyx into his arms, ignoring the pain in his shoulder as her tears burn throughhis skin. She resists for a moment, then goes slack, throwing her arms aroundhis neck. He says, “I’m going to miss you too.”

Hephaestus does not want to cause an uproar. He’s hadfantasies of storming Mount Olympus, of confronting Hera, of doing any numberof foolish, stupid things. But he is not a foolish, stupid man.

Hecate has picked out a volcano for him already, one shetells fits all his requirements and is not in the domain of any other god, eventhe lesser ones. He will go slow. He will build, and improve the lives of themortals. Temples will be erected in his honor, tributes placed at his feet, hisname on all their lips. He’ll build his power the hard way, until they canignore him no longer, until Hera and Zeus have no choice but to offer him aplace at their table on Olympus.

But not yet.

For now, he builds something else, something even moreimportant.

“Can I open my eyes yet?” Styx asks, pouting.

Hephaestus’s hands are on her shoulders, pushing herforward. “No.”

She scowls. She can tell they’re by her river, in a bendwhere no one travels through, but that’s it. Her knowledge of the geography ofthe underworld is always in relation to her river. “What about now?”

“Yes,” he says.

She wasn’t expecting it, so it takes her a moment to blinkher eyes open. “Did you make this?”

“Hecate helped,” he admits, “I wasn’t sure what to do forthings like curtains and windchimes. Do you like it?”

It’s a house. A small one, not much bigger than Charon’s.It’s made of obsidian, but not several pieces put together. It looks like thewhole things was carved out of one massive piece of obsidian. The walls are blackand smooth and shining. There’s a large, round bed in the center that’s a paleblue, the chairs in a deep purple, and her curtains are a soft yellow. Thehouse is black, but Hephaestus has filled it with color, given her a rainbowtucked in every space. Copper pots hang in the kitchen, and there are signs ofhis forging everywhere – in the cabinets, the door knobs in the shape of flowers,the singular windchime hanging in her open window, even though there is no windhere.

“Do you like it?” he repeats. “I know you tend to just – endup wherever, but I thought you should have a place that was just yours. If youwant something different I can change it–”

“No.” She swallows and touches her wall, the silver designin her walls that he must have inlaid himself. “It – it’s perfect.” Quieterthen, “You gave me a home.”

No place in the whole of the underworld has ever felt likeit belonged to her. This one does. It doesn’t feel borrowed.

Hephaestus ruffles her hair, “It seems only fair, since youdid the same for me. This realm wouldn’t have been my home without you.”

They’re smiling at each other, and the tension she’d beencarrying ever since she realized Hephaestus would be leaving drains out of her.

He’s older now, almost an adult, and he’s leaving theunderworld. But he’s not leaving her.

“You’re my best friend,” she tells him, in case he’sforgotten.

“Good,” he tells her, “because you’re my best friend too.”

gods and monsters series, part xxiii

read more of the gods and monsters series here

#gods and monsters series #styx #river styx #hepheastus #greek mytholofgy #greek myth #hades #hecate #i hope you like it!! :) <3 #pitviperofdoom #asks #this is so .. unexpectedly wholesome #i wasn't trying for that it just happened

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lcttlelion-blog · 7 years ago

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MOTTLED BEAUTY | SELF

Location: Casterly Rock Time: 302 AC Notes: This was my sample. I wanted to include it on my blog, but it does reference/include other characters. Therefore, not all events here are factual, due to me not wanting to godmod, but I wanted to show my precious flower.

Fingers ghosted across the contour of tan stone, noticing the way age and harsh winds had washed away the definition, adding new ridges to an already rocky landscape. Streaked with damp, the lingering remnants of a summer rain pressed against the pads of her bare fingertips, hands missing the many ornaments which ladies of her station grew accustomed to Pink tinted her cheeks, giving a youthful glow to already young features, the honeyed milk tones of her features suddenly looking more rosey. In the distance, sun began to break over the hills, casting a brilliant ray of golden light upon the castle.

Shifting her body away from the grand infrastructure, she delicately settled onto the solitary blanket, blush tones darkened in patches where the morning dew, which clung to the blades of grass, permeated the soft fabric. Birds chirped around her, breaking their fast early in the same way that she had done, rushing from her chambers in hopes of escaping before her sisters could even catch sight of her. It was not that she detested them, merely that their actions often caused her to feel deep misery. It had always felt selfish to grumble, for others grew up in squalor, whilst her body was swathed in riches.

Taking one of the soft tipped brushes, bristles dipped into the golden toned paint before she struck it elegantly across the canvas, giving life to the fields of barley which had looked dreary on the painting before. Time had been spent carefully selecting the tones for the gown that the figure in the painting wore, and the exact shades of brown for the young pup which ran through the fields. It was simplistic in it’s design, and she’d poured her desire for freedom and happiness into it. A gentle hum vibrated against her lips, a unsolicited tune tumbling melodically, then lifting in the air to fill silence with a sweet song.

Fingers plucked a honeycake from the basket, before allowing her teeth to sink into the sweetness and devour. She’d hurried into the kitchens, noticing that the kitchen-maid had already prepared a basket of hard cheese, bread and honeycakes. Sweetness coated her chin, which she scrambled to wipe away with the sound of laughter synchronising, Kyra’s head whipped around, noticing the two golden haired lions stalking towards her, as they she were their prey.

“Good morning,” she greeted politely, even if her fingers tightened into fists. It was such a terrible thing, to both love and loathe one’s sisters, yet she could not staunch the feeling which had taken root many years before. What started with pigs and mud, had developed into something far darker, which often snuffed the light out of her light even in such gilded surroundings.

“What are you doing sneaking off this early in the morning, Kyra?” The voice was taunting, but Kyra stood her ground. Whilst her words would never turn to poison, she longer crumbled beneath the harsh gazes. But one of the twin’s pushed past her, gazing at the painted canvas with a darkened glint in her eyes.

“What a pretty painting. It’s almost as pretty as our dresses were, do you remember, Shiera?” The sharpness of Joanna’s tone cut through the tension, slicing any hope that the youngest Lannister would escape unscathed. Without the protection of her parents, she was at the mercy of spite and cruelty, horrid words twisting, bringing down her defences and making her feel small.

“Yes, all those pretty silks mottled and ruined by mud.”

“Must you bring that up, again? Many years have past. Can we not see my moment of selfishness for just that, a moment!” Sentences fell hastily from her mouth, and she regretted hearing her own irritation. Her sisters only brought out the worst in her, the worst in each other. Darkness tarnished their insides, making them appear rotten and sour, yet it remained masked by their fair visage; Kyra did not know where they had learned it from.

Days were counted down, each turn of the sun drawing closer an eventuality, when her sisters would leave for court. It was horrible thought, but she felt almost joyous that they would leave her in peace, going to advance their own stations in the pit of dragons.

Joanna flicked the end of her nose, grinning as she oinked at her. “You’re still a little piggy now.”

Tears welled up in her eyes, a swelling of emotions which she desperately tried to staunch. Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw a hand grasp the murky pot of water, lifting it from the grassy plains. It tipped, streaking paint, distroying hours of her leisure, staining the blanket beneath. They cackled like mad-frogs, Sheira wiping her wet hand against the front of her pale pink gown, Kyra flinching from the contact. A stray tear rolled down her cheek, her gaze locked on the ruined painting.

When her knees sunk to the ground, a pup arrived to whine for attention, her favourite spaniel named Dash. At first she felt certain that a river of tears would flow, but as her chest heave, Kyra felt only anger at her sisters. “They will see that their cruelty has repercussions,” she promised, collecting the dog into her arms, pressing a kiss to the atop his head.

#( self para. )#l: casterly rock #did charlotte take the idea of dash from itv's victoria...maybe

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melissahappyplace · 6 years ago

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HAPPY PLACE: A Teen Space

I got my girl! These were the first words out of my mouth when the doctor delivered my daughter, Kate. I had been told I was having a girl months earlier, but I didn't truly believe it until the doctor announced it in the delivery room. Katelyn Benefiel! The daughter I had dreamed of for as far back as I can remember.

I won't lie and say my early days as a mom were the things dreams are made of because they were messy. I did not adjust to motherhood like they showed on the old TLC show 'A Baby Story.' For months prior to Kate's birth, I watched this show and bought their portrayal of motherhood hook line and sinker. Mom is pregnant; mom gives birth with minimal mess; mom and baby walk off into the sunset; mom knows exactly what to do and enjoys every minute of it. Nope! That's not what happened for me and I was understandably upset with this show and myself for believing it so wholeheartedly.

Post-partum depression hit me soon after delivering my daughter. Fortunately, it didn't last but the feeling that I did not know what I was doing did remain. I felt like there was this yet unknown mistake I could make that would lead to Kate's death. Literally, I was constantly worried about her mortality and I wondered if she would be better off with a different mom who was enjoying every minute of it. It didn't help that she was on a heart and breathing monitor after failing the sleeping test at the hospital. But, I think I would have felt the way I did with or without that constant reminder of the risk of loving someone so much.

I have always been a slow beginner. My Earth Space science teacher in high school told my parents, "Melissa is what I call a slow starter, but now she's doing great!" Give me a minute and I can kick ass and take names at almost anything, but early on ... I'm pensive, hesitant and proceed cautiously. It was this way with motherhood in the beginning too.

I lacked the wisdom and foresight to realize those early years as a mom are difficult for everyone, but also precious and over in the blink of an eye. I look back on the young mom I was and wish she could have relaxed and enjoyed that precious moment in time especially since Katelyn turned out to be my only child. With four short years at home left, I am preparing myself for the long goodbye. I allow myself to have sympathy for the woman I was when I had a newborn, but I still wish she'd known better and trusted herself more. I wish she had known how good being a mom would get as that baby became a fun little girl.

I have thrived as a mom since Kate was old enough to have a real conversation. At around 4, I hit my groove as a mom and have enjoyed the ride since. Katelyn is my dream child. She is my favorite topic of conversation. I always thought that your husband is supposed to be the love of your life and my love for my husband is indeed beyond what I knew existed before him, but your child...my daughter... she's the love of my life! Every love before her was selfish and self-serving. I only thought I loved well before her.

That's not to say my daughter is perfect. I get my fair share of eye rolls.... the look that says, 'mom, you are sooo not cool.' And her early middle school years broke my heart again and again. It was the first time I couldn't fix her hurts. It was the first time I saw her experience real, deep down sadness and feared what would be for her. While she is doing beyond well now, I know there will be many long nights in my future knowing that moms can't fix everything. In fact, it’s better if we let our kids fix them or let them learn to accept the hard times as part of what helps them become who they are made to be.

Kate is bold. She is what my husband has always called me, 'a fighter of injustice.' She gets as angry as I do knowing something is happening that should NOT. Kate is beautiful. When she was little, she looked just like me. Everyone called her my 'mini-me.' Now she looks more like my husband and is becoming more of a blend of the two of us. Kate is an old soul. I have conversations with her that make me forget she's 14, not 21 or 41. Yet... she's still a kid. I know this when she tries to get by with fibbing about chores and won't look me in the eye. I know it when I wake her up in the morning and she wants me to get in bed with her and cuddle. There's still a little girl inside that growing teenager.

What's it like to be a teenager in 2019? There are definitive ways its more difficult. They didn't do shooting drills when I was in school and our teenagers have been doing them since elementary school. Our politics are much like the tumultuous 1960s and they are bombarded with information and images on their phones. Social media extends the social politics after hours. But, some things never change about being a teen like the need to have a space to call your own, close the door, dance it out or to just ... be ... still.

In some ways, our teenagers need a Happy Place more than we do. They face a lot of stress and anxiety in both their academic work and the social mind field that is middle and high school. Mean girls have cell phones now! We all went through those challenging years and there was nothing better than coming home and closing the door to the outside world at least for a little while.

Kate is Boho to my Classic design sense. She's warm yellows and soft pinks to my love of green, blue or even better...teal! Her room is a reflection of her free spirit and everything she loves, including Timothee Chalamet, Kurt Cobain, and To Kill A Mockingbird. One of her most prized possessions is a picture of the actress who played Scout, Mary Badham, laying on the lap of Gregory Peck who played the epic role of Atticus Finch. She still tells me all the time that if she has a son, there is no doubt she will name him Atticus. A poster above her bureau came out of an album my sister gave her; it’s a black and white of John Lennon at a white piano. Like I said, she’s an old soul.

Kate has a TV in her room, but it’s rarely on except during the holidays when she has Christmas movies on 24/7. She has an X-box too, but most of the time she is all cozied up reading in her little window cubby. She started reading at 4, but there was a period of time in late elementary school when she stopped reading much for pleasure. A couple of years ago, she started reading all the time and I'm so grateful she knows and loves the escape and pleasure of reading.

Kate’s love of California, anything retro, and family are abundant in her Happy Place. Her California postcards from our vacation last year to the bay area are on a corkboard with a printed out image of ‘Hyde’ from That 70s Show, along with a picture of my mom on her wedding day and a handwritten note she got from my father. Why shouldn’t Kurt Cobain, Gregory Peck, and her grandpa be together? She combines these people as they are in her heart … all together making her happy.

Kate loves earthy things like lavender, dried flowers, succulents, colorful crystals, rocks and a yellow butterfly in a little glass bottle. Much like her mom, she loves a badass that’s not afraid to stand out so Stevie Nicks appearing on the cover of the Rumours album is displayed on a shelf. An antique camera and her new polaroid are laid out with pride as well. You can see the old soul Kate is throughout. I can almost picture her first apartment!

In a rather large room, Kate actually spends most of her time in the little window cubby listening to music and reading. It’s the kind of space I would love to have had when I was her age. Her window looks out above the neighborhood, her world still small, while she dreams of a bigger life somewhere else. And at the same time, a ceramic moon is hung above her window that once hung above her crib. That’s the thing with being a teenager. You long to grow up, but you’re constantly reminded of the child you still are.

The days of knowing Katelyn is upstairs in her room are growing shorter each day. The Saturdays of running over to Target and spending $75 on nothing we need won’t last forever. The drives in the car when she opens up in ways she never does any other time are numbered. The moments I spend looking at Kate and wondering how she got so incredibly beautiful and uniquely poised…will go on as long as I am breathing.

I can’t wait to watch this young woman go out into the world and do so many of the things I was afraid to do and more. I long to see Kate live bigger than her dad and I dreamed possible. But, for now, I’ll enjoy knowing she’s upstairs in her room, reading a book, talking to her boyfriend, or looking out the window dreaming about her future . . . beneath the ceramic moon I picked out when she was a twinkle in my eye.

#happyplace #teendesign #homedecor #homedesign #howyouhome #hyggehome #homeandliving #lovewhereyoulive #lovewhereyoudwell #nestandflourish

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essayofthoughts · 8 years ago

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Fic prompt: Avengers Penny Dreadful AU- possible characters to include: Wanda as the medium/possessed woman, haunted by and/or possibly possessed by her dead twin; Bruce as Dr. J/Mr. H, naturally; Steve the lonely immortal, unable to move on from the ones he lost in another life; Tony the tinkerer playing god; Thor as a werewolf (berserker parallels you know); Natasha as femme fatale- possibly vampire; anyone else you can include and draw parallels to victorian/romantic lit and pop culture.

Send me fic prompts!

AO3 Mirror.

For the way I have the roles mapping see the fic on AO3.

i. Justice.My brother was my shield, Wanda thinks, laying out her cards. Her brother isn’t there any more. Sometimes she can convince herself he is there, the ghostly presence at her shoulder, but he isn’t. He was taken. He is gone. She can hope to find him, seek him out, but it may not be her brother there when she finds him.

She shares a bond with Pietro even now. She knows there are others like her, other mediums who are afeared of human contact, who dare not share even friendship with others lest it taint their bond with their gifts. Those who go half mad, taunted by spirits when they give into that need for human contact.

Wanda has never had this problem before. She has always had Pietro to rely on, to embrace and trust and love.

Now he is not here, now he is not at her side, it is now she feels the pull to madness.

Wanda steels herself. Wanda turns the first card.

ii. Queen of CupsHe wakes and he does not know where he is. He does not know what he is. He barely knows that he is.

Something touches him. He knows this because he feels it and he twitches back.

“Hey.” It is a sound. “Hey.” There is something soothing in it. “Look at me. Do you understand me?”

More sounds. He turns and tries to see.

“Hey.” The sounds come again. There is something in front of him now, a pattern. When the slit opens the noises are made. “Hey,” it noises. “Lets give you a name.”

iii. Four of PentaclesHe does not know where he is. He does not know what he is. He knows what he needs, though, and it is not the blood offered to him, or the protection from sunlight the others seek. It is something that has been blocked out of his mind, even as he seeks it.

He hungers though. He hungers so much, for blood, for darkness, for his sister something whispers in the recesses of his mind.

He licks his lips, his new-sharp teeth. Maybe her blood would sate him.

iv. Six of Pentacles“You made another? Now?”

He has a name, now, Vision, and he watches the man that made him and his friend debate before him.

“Of course! Ultron was a mistake, there was no way he could ever be right, the fumbling attempts of an apprentice’s hands. Vision is perfect.”

His maker, he knows now, is Tony Stark, genius young doctor and engineer, the man who built him out of flesh and metal. His friend is Bruce - Doctor Banner - a skilled as Doctor as his friend but more of flesh and the science of the mysteries of air and aether than his maker.

He curls and uncurls his hand, feels the metal joints roll and curve beneath reddened skin - It will fade, Vision, it’s just to keep it strong at first for the mechanics - he can almost feel the cogs of his heart.

“Sir,” he says softly. “I do not know this Ultron. I do not know why he was a mistake. I also do not know you, and please, do not threaten my father.”

He does not quite understand that slip, that made maker into father but it fits and it works and it makes a smile spread across Doctor Banner’s face even as Tony Stark’s is marked with shock.

Then the doorbell rings.

v. HermitThere are strangers gathered at the door and Natasha watches them all, where she hovers invisible, nothing but a ghost. There is a woman, and a man with a cane that she is certain hides a crossbow, and a man with a hammer and wild hair for all his neat form. Stepping out of the light of the streets and to the light of the door is another - a man she recognises from when she died.

“Hello,” says the man with the crossbow. “I am Mr. Barton. This is my niece, Miss Wanda Maximoff, and my friends, Mr. Thor Odinson and Mr. Steve Rogers. We’d appreciate your help.”

Natasha almost laughs at the looks on Banner and Stark’s faces but then, she supposes, they are physical with physical consequences while she is not.

Wanda Maximoff lifts a gloved hand from her own cane, palm towards the spot where Natasha watches.

“Uncle,” she says, voice soft and raw with grief. “There is a third here.” Fingers clench in, stretch out. “Reveal yourself,” she says, and Natasha is pulled into the open.

She tastes air on her tongue and realises that she is almost alive.

vi. Page of Swords“We need your help,” he says to those gathered around. There’s a sound from upstairs, and by the ways Doctors’ Stark and Banner’s eyes flick upwards it is something which concerns them. “Since my niece and her brother were orphaned they have stayed with my wife and I. Wanda is, as you may have noticed, gifted. Someone, gifted in their own way, has stolen her brother from us.”

“My twin,” Wanda says. “Pietro.” She and Clint share a glance. The one who anchors her magic. “We would seek your help, your skills. Mr. Rogers is… older than he looks and with some experience in this field. Mr. Odinson too has experience in this field and has extraordinary fighting abilities. What we would seek of you two, Doctors, is your medical knowledge. We wish to know if what was done to my brother can be reversed.”

It is Natasha - new formed, still almost intangible - who speaks. “Reversed from what?”

vii. Page of SwordsWanda’s voice is cool and cold as she speaks of what they believe was done to her brother. His own voice is steady but worried.

“Vampires,” Natasha says. “One is what put me into my current state.”

“Phantasma,” Wanda says. “Leeching life from life.”

“Whatever this one is,” Mr. Rogers says, “It is not yet as powerful as the one I put down.”

Something like recognition flickers across Natasha’s face.

“Undead!” Doctor Stark laughs. “There is no such thing.”

“Tony,” his companion says. “We should-”

Natasha smiles, as vicious as a cat, “Tell them about the boy in the attic?”

viii. HermitShe leads them upstairs. It is odd to be in a body again, but this doesn’t feel quite real, is still somewhat intangible. If she doesn’t focus her hand goes straight through the banister.

“He is in here,” she says. “Doctor Stark’s Vision.”

The door opens to a scene of chaos.

ix. Six of Pentacles“Vision!” calls Tony to where his new creation is struggling against the elder.

“Tony!” calls Bruce. his skin is rippling, greening, hulking out into the vast form of it.

Behind them the visitors are raising weapons - Rogers and Odinson both have their fists, but Barton has some concealed crossbow in his cane and Miss Maximoff is lifting hands daubed in a red like blood. Natasha is reaching for something hidden behind her back.

Then it ploughs into Ultron. Tony’s elder creation tries to fight back but he is nothing against the other man that hides within Bruce’s skin. Bruce’s strength is in intelligence, but this, this side of him is pure rage and physicality and for all Ultron’s undead might even he struggles against it.

“Vision!” calls Tony and his newest creation pulls himself up, runs in stumbles over to his father.

The thing that had been Bruce snarls and yells, the mechanics in Ultron’s shoulder complain, as they hear cloth tearing. Ultron’s fist lands a perfect blow on its face, and it spits out a broken tooth.

“Remember me?” it asks Ultron.

“Monster,” Ultron snarls.

It laughs, and throws Ultron from the window.

x. Four of PentaclesHe is close he knows it. He can smell her, smell her blood and feel her pulse and the pulses of those around her. But hers is sweetest and loudest and he crawls along the roof as something is thrown from the window.

A person. It’s blood smells dead, it’s heart ticks like a clock.

He climbs down to the window, smells her blood like wine and flowers, and looks in.

xi. Queen of Cups“Father,” Vision says, pointing to the window. It is shrinking back to Bruce, trembling and shaking as his bones warp back down to size.

“What was that?” Rogers asks.

“What are you?” asks Odinson.

“Father,” Vision says.

The strangled scream Wanda gives tells them all they need to know.

xii. JusticePietro. It is Pietro but bent and warped and pale, head twisting like an owls as he clambers down from the window. for a moment he had looked decapitated, his head upside-down, hanging like that but she can see now that there is no such hope of peace for her brother, he is walking towards them like some jerking puppet.

He hisses, “Sister,” his eyes fixed on her and Wanda reaches for her magic.

Wanda reaches for her magic and it isn’t there. The bond has weakened without her brother but it has still been there and now, now he is so close to returned to them it has left her entirely.

“Pietro,” she says. “Do you remember me?”

His head tilts in a jerk. “Sister,” he says and she might almost smile and reach for him.

“Give me your blood.”

xiii. Ace of SwordsRogers ploughs into Pietro, tries to pin him to the wall. Hands claw at him, drawing blood like claws but he does not flinch, does not flinch even once. “Natasha!” he calls. “Please!”

She rushes forwards, passing through objects like the ghost she is, passing him something almost tangible, a stake of wood.

Pietro screeches as the wood drives through his wrist and into the brick behind him.

“What is he?!” Stark calls.

“A vampire,” Barton says, levelling his crossbow. “Wanda, you know-”

“Do it,” she says.

The thing that was Pietro screeches again as his other wrist is pinned by a crossbow quarrel.

He strains against them, pushing himself from the wall by his feet and Wanda draws nearer. Scarlet sparks and sputters around her hands but none of the strength it once held, even as she nears her brother. “Pietro,” she whispers. “Please.”

Behind them, Banner pulls himself to his feet. “You said he was given bad blood to turn him, didn’t you,” he says, soft and quiet and audible even over Pietro’s screeches, barely a question. “So we give him clean. Vision?”

The new-made person steps forward from his father’s side.

“You’re as strong as your brother, aren’t you?”

Tony’s hand is gentle on his creation’s shoulder. “Stronger.”

Bruce nods, looks to Natasha and Rogers, tow with so clear a history of fighting these beasts. “We drain him of tainted blood and give him clean.”

xiv. Ace of SwordsWanda sits by her brother’s side. Vision sat firmly atop him, hands pinning ankles while a fresh stake and quarrel pin his wrists. Blood drips from one wrist into a bucket, pulses down one tube to a wrist.

“We don’t know that this will work,” Rogers says. “This was never attempted when I fought them.”

“Mine tried it,” Natasha says. “It did not always work.”

“It can kill sometimes,” Bruce admits. “Even in humans.”

Wanda looks to them, faint sparks of scarlet in her gaze. “Better this than nothing,” she whispers.

They watch her brother fade away on the table, and hope he will return.

#Wanda Maximoff #Pietro Maximoff #MCU fic #penny dreadful fic #nanyoky #my fic #ask

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nathyfaith · 8 years ago

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How It All Changed

Prompt: “From underneath the thin layer of snow, the first bloom of springtime emerged. He resisted the temptation to crush it under his heel.” Summary: An important member of the flock passes and it’s hard on each and every one of them. Warning: Minor character death. Funeral. Word Count: 1.939 Rated: Teen

A huge thank you to @theriverscribe who allowed me to ran and play with her By the Grace of God universe and is the most adorable beta ever!

My first time participating on @gabriel-monthly-challenge hope you guys enjoy it! @deannawinchesterdontdoskirts @patient-number-zero @lacqueluster @archangel-with-a-shotgun, @ashiewesker @revwinchester

Gabriel watched solemnly as Mary’s body was tenderly laid on the pyre by Nuriel, one of the many angels the old woman had kept underneath her ‘wings’ so to speak. He cast his eyes up to the sky only to see it was as rebellious as he, big dark clouds covered the sun darkening their day with a quiet rumble of thunder. The sky was as mournful as the old messenger felt.

The archangel’s eyes fell on the grass underneath his shoes and a confused eyebrow was lifted, for from underneath the thin layer of snow, the first bloom of springtime emerged. He resisted the temptation to crush it beneath his heel.

How inconsiderate of nature to blossom even on the gloomiest days.

It was vile and heartbreaking. Gabriel didn’t see reason in making their youngest fledgling suffer. True, Sam would be able to visit his mother whenever it urged him, but that didn’t make this any easier. This loss was extremely significant. Not just for the boy, but their entire flock.

Mother Mary had been an entire revelation to him, he was known for seeing the best in every creation his father made and his owns as well - hello platypus - and Gabriel loved as freely and easily as only God’s favorite could, but still this small human had been his biggest surprise.

She had somehow adopted him and his siblings without much thought, making room in her heart for each and every one of them.

So yes, Gabriel would very much like to crush that stupid overly charming flower with his heel. How dare something so exquisite to mock their pain on such a cold, dark day?

Sam sighed loudly at his side and Gabriel’s fingers tightened on the boy’s shoulder, offering him reassurance and grounding the young fledgling to the present. Sam’s hand found his and he felt tiny fingers curl against his palm.

A moment later, the archangel lost his hold on the boy as Sam ran out into the field. Looking forward he saw the boy kneeling in front of the single brave flower – the same one Gabriel had found to be incredibly cocky for his liking. Sam touched it with extra care, his fingers gracing each petal.

Suddenly, he felt Raphael in his mind. The Healer’s tone was still curious and questioning after all these years, What is the child doing now, Gabriel?

I am not entirely sure, Raph. Retorted Gabriel, his head tilted in observation, very much like his younger brother Castiel.

Let Samuel be, both of you. Chimed in Castiel’s voice, gentle but firm.

“Cas!” Sam called with a strange happiness in his voice, startling all humans and angels gathered in place for his mother’s funeral.

“It’s a marigold–mom’s favorite flower! Do you think God, I mean Chuck, will be angry if I pick it to give to mom one last time before we burn her body?”

“I can assure you, Samuel, Father won’t mind,” Raphael told him, his grace reaching to envelop the boy in a quick warm hug.

Sam smiled at him before his curious hazel eyes shifted to Dean’s. His older brother was standing in front of the pyre, his arms resting at each side of him, his posture somehow respectful and relaxed at the same time.

The not-so-young fledgling smiled despite the circumstances. He might have lost his mother, but his brother would be forever with him, suspended in his thirty-five-years-old body. All thanks to Cas.

When Dean was severely wounded in a hunting and nothing but sharing grace would heal him, Castiel hadn’t thought twice before bonding himself to the human. Gabriel beamed as his mind drifted to the fond memory. Cas, with his serene exterior, had calmly explained to the screaming and enraged hunter that it was plain and simple–they already shared a profound bond. What was so bad that about them sharing a deeper, more meaningful, one?

It took time before Dean understood (with Sam’s help) that grace sharing was a lot like marriage, and that this new bond allowed Cas to feel his emotions and thoughts. No one was surprised when the hunter admitted he was dating the angel a couple of weeks later. Sam had giggled like only a fledgling could, scaring his mother and brother, but delighting the angels. He was happy. Deliriously so, for his brother and his best friend.

But now, as he picked the flower ever so gently, Gabriel could feel this mix of sadness and happiness within Sam. The boy seemed relieved to know he would be able to see his mom but still sad he had to watch her endure death. Sam flew easily towards the pyre, finding a spot to sit on the carefully arranged planks of woods.

“Hi, Mom,” he whispered, his voice smooth and child-like. In one of his small hands, he held the flower, a white marigold. It was very fitting to the occasion. Sam found his mother’s cold fingers and slipped the flower inside of them, resting both of her hands over her womb. Mary’s face was serene with her short white hair and smiling lips. She had died in peace, surrounded by love and family. The family she had adopted throughout the years had been little and broken, but still good.

Gabriel watched as Sam kissed his mother’s forehead and flew down again, inserting himself between Cas and Dean. He reached for them and Cas enveloped his right hand with his larger one while Dean did the same on Sam’s left. They both cast glances at the boy, smiling kindly at him.

The archangel exhaled, remembering a particular day he had shared with Mary; Sam had finally, finally slept after a tiring training only to wake up in middle sleep by a particularly bad dream of Lucifer, who had been trying to approach the family to ask for forgiveness being more than a bit aware that he did not deserve it. The fledgling had cried for his mother, pushed his brother and only calmed down after not only his entire flock was in the room with him including his giant puppy. The fur ball had shifted down to his tiny form to fit inside the boy’s arms it took all their combined graces and his mother’s words to relax the boy and bring him back to a restful sleep.

But that wasn’t Gabriel’s favorite moment. His favorite moment was when Mary entered the kitchen two hours later to check on him because differently from Castiel, Raphael, and Michael, he had been incapable of rest. Cas had gone back to the room he shared with Dean, Raph and Mike talked among themselves, the angel radio keeping the bunker as quiet as ever.

Mary had found him sitting in one of the many chairs in the empty kitchen. He’d heard her soft footsteps approach him, but didn’t move. His grace and mind were just too tired.

“Hey, Gabe, why are you here alone? Sam and Morpheus could use your company. You know Sam loves to have you around.” she told him, in a cheerful tone, always grateful for the supernatural dog he had gifted Sam some years ago.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, wishing for a hot cocoa, but way too exhausted to even summon one.

“Why don’t I make some comfort drink and food for you, hmm, little man?” she suggested warmly.

Gabriel wanted to protest, he really did, but truth was that besides Sam, he was the smallest of the boys. “Just for the record, I’m average size.” He replied, pouting as she waltzed around the kitchen.

“It’s an endearment, Gabe,” Mary vowed, standing near him. Her fingers ran through his honeyed locks before dropping to caress his shoulders. She rested her hand there, adding, “I thought by now you could recognize one miles away.”

Gabriel glanced at her, his hand covering hers, accepting her motherly comfort. He sighed and explained, “Sometimes, Sam’s past affects me more than I allow others to see. If I had been less than a jerk and more of an archangel, he might have been saved from oh, so much pain. But he forgave me so fast like he does with Cas and Dean and I’m not sure I deserved that.”

“Oh, Gabriel. I used to pray for you when Sam was a baby. I always told the boys angels were watching over them, I just never realized it would be so quite literal.” Gabriel nodded, letting go of Mary’s delicate hand. “Why me? Why pray to me for Sammich?” The archangel asked, unsure of himself.

“Well, I imagined since you are the God’s messenger and protector, Sam would be safe from the demons I knew were just waiting for me to let my guard down. I wished to believe you were real. I mean, if demons were real, I figured angels were too, you know?” Mary told him, smiling, as she shrugged her left shoulder and picked some ingredients from inside the cabinet.

“Humans are such an intriguing race. You have faith in things you don’t even know are real, afraid even, hopeful–” Gabriel said, as a matter of fact, his whiskey eyes following Mary’s every move. “I wish I had been in heaven. Maybe I would have listened to your prayers and could have watched him earlier.”

Mary put the pan on the stove with a mix of milk, sugar, dark chocolate and vanilla inside and turn the flames on. It took just a second for the smell to hit him full force, he closed his eyes in pleasure. When he opened them again, he found Mary busying herself with toasts and filling two cups of the finished beverage.

“Oh, Mary! You are Father sent!” Gabriel exclaimed, sipping the drink with gusto.

She smiled, distracting him with the tale of when Dean learned he was going to be a big brother. The archangel had laughed because little Dean had vowed to be the ‘bestest brother ever’ and Gabriel had to agree the boy had kept his word, Sam had turned to be one of the best humans he had ever meet, the most complex and the most forgiving. Mary had kissed his hair and wished him a goodnight before disappearing inside her room.

Tears shined in Gabriel’s eyes, oh father, he was gonna miss her dearly.

Sariel picked a torch and with a snap Gabriel light the flames. Dean murmured another goodbye while Sam clutched his and Castiel’s fingers. The flames engulfed Mary’s body and they watched until her entire frame was completely gone. Sam relaxed his fingers and walked towards Gabriel, extending his arms above his head in a gesture Gabriel had grown to recognize as a plea for comfort. And he knew the comfort was more for himself than to Sam.

“Thank you, kiddo.” he murmured, resting his nose on Sam’s neck, while the boy’s legs hugged his torso like a monkey would do.

“It’s ‘kay, Gabe. We have each other and we can visit mom very soon,” Sam reminded him.

“Yeah, kiddo. We can. Love ya.” Gabriel told him, hugging him tighter to his chest.

“Love you too,” Sam answered, setting his head on Gabriel’s shoulder, suddenly tired and sleepy.

Nuriel, Zadkiel, and Sariel flew above them, Cas and Dean opting for riding on the impala and Gabriel snapping himself to the bunker with Sam fast asleep in his arms. He tucked Sam in his bed and called for Morpheus who jumped in and curled up beside the boy.

And that night Gabriel did what he had become his routine for a long time now. He sat down and guarded Sam’s dreams.

#sam winchester #dean winchester #castiel #gabriel #mary winchester #spn #supernatural #fanfic #the archangel network #thearchangelnetwork #funeral #minor character death #fanfic mine

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witsyo · 4 years ago

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Flower Crown 4

Blue had been a child, when the magic showed itself in her. She’d been playing, just kids on a field of grass, chasing each other in circles. She hadn’t quite been fast enough, couldn’t quite catch the others, and she'd fallen, hard, burst into tears at the pain in her knees. Her father had run to her side, kissed her scrapes and smoothed her hair, and she remembered being confused by the tears in his eyes.

“Why are you sad?” she’d asked.

“You’re blessed,” he’d replied. “Blessed by the gods.”

She'd realized, suddenly, that her knees no longer hurt. When she'd looked down, the scrapes and cuts had entirely disappeared.

Those with magic were those that ruled the kingdoms. The kings, the queens, the generals and ladies. The gods chose who was right, and sent them where they were meant to go, and where they were meant to go was almost never with the families they had been born to.

Blue had always been meant to be a queen. Her powers weren’t for fighting, not for diplomacy or finances. She had always been a comforter.

She could make light, dancing along her fingers. There was the soft warmth she could summon, and she could alter hers and other's appearances. Most of all, though, she was a healer.

That had been the power of most use to a queen in her position.

The servants used to come to her with their sick children, beg her to heal them. Often, she couldn’t fix them entirely, but she could soothe their aches and pains, make them a little less scared. She would usually just heal herself, smooth down scars and take away the stinging pain of the king’s brands. There wasn’t often he’d let her get rid of them all, but she would do what she could. Sometimes, trapped beneath his hands, she would try desperately to heal him of whatever horrible spirit had invaded his soul to make him the way he was.

She hadn’t been able to save her only friend, something that haunted her to this day. Her handmaiden, a woman named Charity whose soul echoed the name. She’d been the one that had gotten Blue out, a woman brave enough to steal a queen, strong enough to not even cry out as an arrow pierced her back.

Blue had reached for her, magic already sparking in her fingertips but knowing, just already… there was nothing she could have done. She’d known that. Charity had known that.

So she had sat back a little further, let the arrow pierce her heart and left Blue with nothing to do but run. It was still hard to believe that she’d made it. Stealing a boat, crossing the river, stumbling up onto dry land and falling to her knees. She’d barely known what to do, and all she could think of was that she couldn’t be recognized.

Her eyes had found a flower, half-buried under the grass, whose petals were the color of the ocean, and everything went Blue.

Days of walking, not having anything to eat, and knowing there was no one to help her for at least another week. Ljosvollr was famously empty, all the people gathered at the center of the land, and she was so close to the edge.

She had been pretty sure she was going to die. She’d even been okay with that, accepted it right up until the sound of hoofbeats and--

“Are you okay?”

Jumping, Blue looked back to see Razz standing behind her. There was concern in his eyes, and he took her hand softly. She nodded, laughing dryly and gesturing at a hollowed-out stump by the side of the road, much more decrepit than she remembered it being so many years ago.

“I think I slept there, one of the nights that I--” She cut herself off, shaking her head and turning back to face him. “I thought you were all so imposing, up there on your horses. Now I know that all soldiers are fools.”

“Including you?” he asked, the humor in his eyes not doing much to hide the pity that he knew she hated.

“Especially me.” she said with passion, forcing a laugh. Then she turned, gesturing to where her men were setting up for the night. “They haven’t been fed yet, and here I am, staring at a tree.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment, and she gave him a look, knowing he had better things to be doing with his time than caring for her.

“Will you ever…” he stopped, shook himself and smiled. “Will you join me tonight?”

The question he’d stopped was one he’d asked before. He already knew the answer, but she murmured it anyway. “My past is my own. I don’t want to remember it, and I don’t want you to see me differently. But yes.” Blue shot him a grin. “I will join you tonight.”

Razz laughed, leaning forward to kiss her cheek, then turning as someone called for him from across the field. She assumed he had left, jumped again as he cupped her face. He opened his mouth, then hesitated.

“You’ll be in my thoughts, then,” he finally said, and she laughed, leaning down to pick one of the blue flowers that dotted the entire landscape of this beautiful country. She tucked it behind his ear, grinning widely at the picture he made.

“Token of my favor. Until tonight.”

~~~

Blue ducked through the flap of Razz’s tent, setting down her bags in the corner his didn’t fill. He wasn’t here yet, but the women posted at his door (a pair from Halle’s command, she thought) hadn’t blinked an eye as she stepped past. Word must have traveled quickly of their marriage the past few days, many of the soldiers under her charge clasping her hands as she walked by to murmur a congratulations. This was the first night she had stayed the night with him, though, her duties keeping her up late enough she had just crashed on the ground with her soldiers.

Grinning to herself as she sat on the pile of furs and feathers that made up his bed, she started to unlace her boots. Being a first lieutenant wasn’t without its perks, the semi-privacy and protection from the elements that a shared tent provided being invaluable after being a foot soldier for so long. But Razz was a captain. He was afforded privileges she had only been able to dream of, not the least of which was the tradition of many soldiers carrying an extra blanket for their captain.

The people of Ljosvollr called it good luck, but up until this moment, she’d always thought it was foolish.

She placed her shoes next to her bags, then reached inside for her bow, polishing the smooth wood and checking the draw of the string. Relaxing, she unstrung the weapon, laying it carefully over the bags and starting to unclasp her armor before the flap lifted again.

Razz smiled tiredly as he saw her, letting the tent fall closed behind him as he leaned in for a kiss. Quickly, she returned it, watching him with soft happiness as he sat beside her and began to unbutton his shirt. When he had it loosened, he tugged it over his head, leaning forward and tucking it carefully into his bags, glancing over his shoulder at her explosion of breath.

“What?”

Without a word, she came up onto her knees, smoothing her hands over his spine and following the lines of his back. He sighed as she pressed softly with her thumbs, soothing the knots that had formed in his shoulders. “We’re almost there,” she murmured, pressing a kiss just below his ear.

“One more day of travel,” he sighed. “Then two weeks of patrols.”

“The patrols are always easier, my love. At least, easier to command.” She kissed him again, guided him back to sit beside her in the nest of blankets.

“Not for you,” he remarked dryly, turning against her hands and twining their fingers together. “You must be tired, all the riding back and forth you had to do today.”

“Abel will be the death of me,” she laughed, naming the second that gave her the most trouble.

“He is a good man,” Razz said.

“A very good man.” Blue kissed him, then pulled away, finishing removing her armor and laying it in front of her as she reached into her bags for the oil she always rubbed into the leather. A soldier should know to care first for their horse, then for their weapon and armor, and only then for themselves. Razz’s rank afforded him armor of chainmail, and she knew from her years serving in his company that it was hung from a pole of his tent. It had to be cared for much less frequently than the leather, but she never would have sacrificed the freedom of movement. Razz thought she was crazy, but Razz didn’t know that there were few injuries she couldn’t heal on her own body.

Beginning her routine, she could feel his eyes on her. “You’ve come a long way, haven’t you?” he remarked, and she laughed, turning the brace in her hands to get the back.

“A long way from battered and weak-willed?”

“You’ve certainly never been either,” he said, and she felt his fingers working softly under the hem at her back, tracing the skin under her shirt. “I meant as a soldier. I remember the day you told me you wanted to learn.”

“You laughed at me,” she said dryly, looking back as he hugged her from behind.

“Can you blame me?”

She thought back, remembered the shivering woman who had stood in front of him in the training yard. A cleaning maid, far fallen from anything she’d been but with so much more hope. He’d been the one to employ her, a lieutenant at the time, having her clean up after his soldiers until the moment she’d gotten brave enough to ask if she might become one of them. “No. But I’ve worked hard.”

Drawing her into his bare chest, he held her tightly. “You have. You always do.”

“I thought you were soft,” she commented, concentrating on her armor. “That you let your soldiers walk all over you.”

“I am soft,” he hummed, and he felt his grin against her skin as he kissed a place on her neck that she knew was sweaty and disgusting from the day’s riding. “That doesn’t mean I’m weak.”

“I know the respect you have, now.” She laughed as he kissed the same place again, looking over her shoulder at him. “You don’t have to kiss me, love, I know that I need a bath.”

“If a little dirt could dissuade me from any part of you, we should never have married,” he murmured, already kissing another piece of her skin. She sighed, feeling him lay back and lift her shirt to mark a trail with his lips. Going back to work on her armor, she was soothed by their comfortable rhythm. Eventually, he ceased the kisses, letting go of her shirt and burying his face against her waist. Just as she set aside the last piece, one of the door guards smacked the flap of the tent.

“Messenger for you, Captain.”

“Come in,” Razz said with a groan, sitting up as the tent’s flap was pushed aside.

“Three of the lieutenants report their men settled, sir, but I cannot find--” the man seemed to notice Blue for the first time, and he blinked. “Lieutenant.”

“My men are settled, as well,” Blue said, and Razz laughed under his breath.

“Thank you, Jacob. Is there any more news?”

The man flushed brightly at Blue’s smile and glanced between them. “No, Captain. Are you…”

“Can you please relay to the lieutenant’s men that if they wish to contact her, to direct themselves to…” he looked at her, and she spoke directly to the man.

“Still to me. Tell them to send a messenger if they cannot come themselves.” The man nodded, excusing himself from the tent, and Razz gave her a questioning glance.

“I had hoped we could spend the night without interruptions.”

“My soldiers know where I am,” she said with a soft smile. “And my Seconds are more than capable. If an issue arises they need my assistance with, it will be something only I can do. This company needs to keep turning, no matter my time spent with you.”

He huffed, but nodded, returning to his task and placing kisses to her hip. Smiling, Blue turned to him, drawing him up for a real kiss and running her hands over his bare skin. “There is still no privacy, Razz.”

“And yet my self-control wanes with each day away from you,” he breathed, then laughed. “I’m not a fool. I just wish very much to hold you. Perhaps receive a kiss or two, if you’re willing.”

She smiled, thumbed carefully at his cheek. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Grinning, he wrapped his arms around her, stole a kiss, then another. “Will you lay with me?”

“I will. Let me finish getting ready for bed.”

Razz nodded, kicking off his shoes and crawling into the nest. Blue smiled after him, fixated just for a moment. He was a beautiful man, well-muscled and with hair in the sort of waves bards wrote ballads about, wonderful to look at and even better to speak with. There was so much kindness in him, impossibly much with a world so cruel. He smiled as she watched him, and she found herself entranced. “Blue, as much as I enjoy admiring you from afar, I’d much rather find you beside me.”

She smiled at the not-so-subtle push to hurry up, leaned over to kiss him deeply. “Falling asleep in your arms? What else could a woman dream of?"

#writingyo #flower crown #this corny ending i s2g

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networkingdefinition · 5 years ago

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Full Moon Quotes

Official Website: Full Moon Quotes

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• A full moon is a flashlight so everyone can see your drama! – Eric Jerome Dickey • A full moon is poison to some; they shut it out at every crevice, and do not suffer a ray to cross them; it has a chemical or magical effect; it sickens them. But I am never more free and royal than when the subtile celerity of its magic combinations, whatever they are, is at work. – Harriet Elizabeth Prescott Spofford • A kiss on the beach when there is a full moon is the closest thing to heaven. – H. Jackson Brown, Jr. • According to the oral tradition of Witches, we were once the priests and priestesses of a peasant Pagan religion. Members of this secret sect met at night beneath the full moon, for these were the “misfits” and “outcasts” who did not fit into mainstream society. Little has changed over the centuries and the Witchcraft community still embraces individuals frequently rejected in mainstream society. These include gays, lesbians, transgendered individuals, and other people with the courage to live their lives authentically in accord with who they are inside their hearts, minds, and spirits. – Raven Grimassi • Admit something.

Everyone you see, you say to them “Love me.”

Of course you do not do this out loud: Otherwise, Someone would call the cops.

Still, though, think about this, This great pull in us to connect.

Why not become the one Who lives with a full moon in each eye That is always saying,

With that sweet moon Language

What every other eye in this world Is dying to Hear? – Hafez • All good writing is built one good line at a time. You build a novel the same way you do a pyramid. One word, one stone at a time, underneath a full moon while the fingers bleed. – Kate Braverman • All of the full moons for the entire year are special in that they have particular names. – Neil deGrasse Tyson • As hard as I try to live with some degree of faith in my life, I just can’t believe that the full moon can turn dude into a wolf. – Dana Gould • As the body rolled to the ground Tarzan of the Apes placed his foot upon the neck of his lifelong enemy and, raising his eyes to the full moon, threw back his fierce young head and voiced the wild and terrible cry of his people. – Edgar Rice Burroughs

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'Moon', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '68', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_moon').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_moon img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); ); • Beauty is Nature in perfection; circularity is its chief attribute. Behold the full moon, the enchanting golf ball, the domes of splendid temples, the huckleberry pie, the wedding ring, the circus ring, the ring for the waiter, and the “round” of drinks. – O. Henry • Because we don’t know when we will die, we get to think of life as an inexhaustible well. Yet everything happens only a certain number of times, and a very small number really. How many more times will you remember a certain afternoon of your childhood, an afternoon that is so deeply a part of your being that you can’t even conceive of your life without it? Perhaps four or five times more, perhaps not even that. How many more times will you watch the full moon rise? Perhaps 20. And yet it all seems limitless. – Paul Bowles • Briefly, the nymphaeum glowed with a softer light, like a full moon. Piper smelled exotic spices and blooming roses. She heard distant music and happy voices talking and laughing. She guessed she was hearing hundreds of years of parties and celebrations that had been held at this shrine in ancient times, as if the memories had been freed along with the spirits. ‘What is that?’ Jason asked nervously. Piper slipped her hand into his. ‘The ghosts are dancing. – Rick Riordan • by night only crazy things like the full moon and the whippoorwill and us, are busy. – Charles Olson

[clickbank-storefront-bestselling] • Clear mind is like the full moon in the sky. Sometimes clouds come and cover it, but the moon is always behind them. Clouds go away, then the moon shines brightly. So don’t worry about clear mind: it is always there. When thinking comes, behind it is clear mind. When thinking goes, there is only clear mind. Thinking comes and goes, comes and goes, You must not be attached to the coming or the going. – Seungsahn • Cuba seems to have the same effect on US administrations as the full moon has on werewolves. – Wayne Smith • Dancing up the full moon Round some fair new altar Trample the soft blossoms of fine grass. – Sappho • Do you understand now why books are hated and feared? Because they reveal the pores on the face of life. The comfortable people want only the faces of the full moon, wax, faces without pores, hairless, expressionless. – Ray Bradbury • Does the full moon affect people’s behavior, you ask? Yup. It makes people think the full moon affects people’s behavior. – Neil deGrasse Tyson • Early on May 23, 1997, from 28,500 feet on Everest, I witnessed the incredible shadow of the mountain, the penumbra, forming to the west as the sun rose behind me. The full moon from the night before was still visible. The bluish cast of the atmosphere can also be seen. – Ed Viesturs • Easter occurs on different dates each year because, like the Jewish Passover, it is based upon the vernal equinox, that dramatic moment when the hours of the day-light and the hours of darkness at last draw parallel and then the light finally and triumphantly wins out. Thus Easter is always fixed as the first Sunday after the first full moon following the spring equinox. It’s a cosmic, solar, and lunar event as deeply rooted in religious traditions originating from sun-god worship as one could conceivably imagine. – Tom Harpur • Escape from the black cloud that surrounds you. Then you will see your own light as radiant as the full moon. – Rumi • Everything that is bad, the falling sickness – God save the mark – or the like, should be at its worst at the full moon. I suppose because it is the leader of the stars. – Lady Gregory • For most people, we often marvel at the beauty of a sunrise or the magnificence of a full moon, but it is impossible to fathom the magnitude of the universe that surrounds us. – Richard Baker • From the distance of the moon, Earth was four times the size of a full moon seen from Earth. It was a brilliant jewel in the black velvet sky. • Full moons, skunk weed all up in the room; You got the munchies, baby? Ice cold milk and Lorna Doones. – Ghostface Killah • I have seen the glories of art and architecture, and mountain and river; I have seen the sunset on the Jungfrau, and the full moon rise over Mont Blanc; but the fairest vision on which these eyes ever looked was the flag of my country in a foreign land. Beautiful as a flower to those who hate it, terrible as a meteor to those who hate it, it is the symbol of the power and glory, and the honor, of fifty million Americans. – George Frisbie Hoar • I suppose there were moonless nights and dark ones with but a silver shaving and pale stars in the sky, but I remember them all as flooded with the rich indolence of a full moon. – Willa Cather • I want to know if you can live with failure, yours and mine, and still stand on the edge of the lake and shout to the silver of the full moon, “Yes!” – Oriah Dreamer • I wish I could tell you about the South Pacific. The way it actually was. The endless ocean. The infinite specks of coral we called islands. Coconut palms nodding gracefully toward the ocean. Reefs upon which waves broke into spray, and inner lagoons, lovely beyond description. I wish I could tell you about the sweating jungle, the full moon rising behind the volcanoes, and the waiting. The waiting. The timeless, repetitive waiting. – James A. Michener • If I know a song of Africa, of the giraffe and the African new moon lying on her back, of the plows in the fields and the sweaty faces of the coffee pickers, does Africa know a song of me? Will the air over the plain quiver with a color that I have had on, or the children invent a game in which my name is, or the full moon throw a shadow over the gravel of the drive that was like me, or will the eagles of the Ngong Hills look out for me? – Isak Dinesen • I’m a werewolf trapped in a human body.” “Well, yeah, that’s kind of the definition.” “No, really. I’m trapped.” “Oh? When was the last time you shape-shifted?” “That’s just it – I’ve never shape-shifted.” “So you’re not really a werewolf.” “Not yet. But I was meant to be one, I just know it. How do I get a werewolf to attack me?” Stand in the middle of a forest under a full moon with a raw steak tied to your face, holding a sign that says, ‘Eat me; I’m stupid’? – Carrie Vaughn • Imagine a glorious full moon coming over the tops of the spruce, big and yellow, shedding a mysterious light on everything… the moonlight had colour, you could see to paint and be able to appreciate the colour of things. – Arthur Lismer • In the broad light of day mathematicians check their equations and their proofs, leaving no stone unturned in their search for rigour. But, at night, under the full moon, they dream, they float among the stars and wonder at the miracle of the heavens. They are inspired. Without dreams there is no art, no mathematics, no life. – Michael Atiyah • It is a totally different creativity I am talking about. A Taj Mahal… just watching it on a full moon night, and great meditation is bound to arise in you. Or the temples of Khajuraho, Konarak, Puri – just meditating on them and you will be surprised that all your sexuality is transformed into love. They are miracles of creativity. They were not created by pathological people, they were created by those who had attained. – Rajneesh • It was a full moon and, shining on all the snow, it made everything almost as bright as day — only the shadows were rather confusing. – C. S. Lewis • It’s a full moon here tonight, which makes me think of you. Because, I know that no matter what I am doing or where I am, this moon will always be the same size as yours, half a world away. – Nicholas Sparks • Lady Maccon.” “By George, Boots! How the deuce can you possibly tell that there is Lady Maccon?” queried the other top-hated gentleman. “Who else would be standing in the middle of a street on full-moon night with a raging ruddy fire behind her, waving a parasol about?” “Good point, good point. – Gail Carriger • Look around at the azaleas making fuchsia star bursts in spring; look at a full moon hanging silver in a black sky on a cold night. And realize that life is glorious, and that you have no business taking it for granted. – Anna Quindlen • Mary awoke from her nightmare with a pounding heart, convinced that she had only imagined Elizabeth’s cruel plot. A full moon was shining into her chamber, illuminating everything around her in silvery light. That was when she noticed for the first time that there were bars on her window. – Margaret George • May this marriage be blessed.May this marriage be as sweet as milk and honey.May this marriage be as intoxicating as old wine.May this marriage be fruitful like a date tree.May this marriage be full of laughter and everyday a paradise.May this marriage be a seal of compassion for here and hereafter.May this marriage be as welcome as the full moon in the night sky.Listen lovers, now you go on, as I become silent and kiss this blessed night.- Rumi • Mooooon!” said the Ogre. “Tranquility …” Then he pointed at the full moon. “Neil Armstrong walked in a sea of Tranquility.” Then he added, “It’s made of cheese. But you have to take off the plastic before you put it on a burger.” Mickey sighed. “What’s his story?” the wraith asked. “He’s chocolate,” Mikey said. – Neal Shusterman • Never say [to younger people] “that was before your time,” because the last full moon was before their time! – Bill Cosby • Night of Sleepless Love The night above. We two. Full moon. I started to weep, you laughed. Your scorn was a god, my laments moments and doves in a chain. The night below. We two. Crystal of pain. You wept over great distances. My ache was a clutch of agonies over your sickly heart of sand. Dawn married us on the bed, our mouths to the frozen spout of unstaunched blood. The sun came through the shuttered balcony and the coral of life opened its branches over my shrouded heart. – Federico Garcia Lorca • Nothing beats a haunted moonlit night on All Hallows Eve…. And on this fatal night, at this witching time, the starless sky laments black and unmoving. The somber hues of an ominous, dark forest are suddenly illuminated under the emerging face of the full moon. – Elizabeth Kim • Now that I think about it, maybe he is a werewolf. I can picture him lunging over the moors in hot pursuit of his prey, and I’m certain that he wouldn’t think twice about eating an innocent bystander. I’ll watch him closely at the next full moon. He’s asked me to go dancing tomorrow–perhaps I should wear a high collar. Oh, that’s vampires, isn’t it? I think I am a little giddy. (After meeting Mr. Markham V. Reynolds, Jr.) – Mary Ann Shaffer • On every full moon, rituals … take place on hilltops, beaches, in open fields and in ordinary houses. Writers, teachers, nurses, computer programmers, artists, lawyers, poets, plumbers, and auto mechanics — women and men from many backgrounds come together to celebrate the mysteries of the Triple Goddess of the Dance of Life. The religion they practice is called Witchcraft. – Starhawk • On the horizon, he saw the full moon. God dropped it there, he was sure, as a reminder of our small place in the world. A reminder that what is beautiful is fleeting. – Ben Sherwood • Perhaps all women are part faerie, for what woman can deny her faerie blood when the portals to her own land are open; when the full moon sings its insistent song; when sorrow and passion and rage pulse through her body at moon times. This is why women are the chosen ones of Faerie, pat of the vibrant, fluid, emotional soul of the world. – Brian Froud • Should at that moment the full moon Step forth upon the hill, And memories hard to bear at noon, By moonlight harder still, Form in the shadows of the trees, – Things that you could not spare And live, or so you thought, yet these All gone, and you still there, A man no longer what he was, Not yet the thing he planned. – Edna St. Vincent Millay • Smile O voluptuous coolbreathed earth! Earth of the slumbering and liquid trees! Earth of departed sunset! Earth of the mountains misty-topt! Earth of the vitreous pour of the full moon just tinged with blue! Earth of shine and dark mottling the tide of the river! Earth of the limpid gray of clouds brighter and clearer for my sake! Far-swooping elbowed earth! Rich apple-blossomed earth! Smile, for your lover comes! – Walt Whitman • So you used to know everything?” She wrinkled her nose. “Everybody did. I told you. It’s nothing special, knowing how things work. And you really do have to give it all up if you want to play.” “To play what?” “This,” she said. She waved at the house and the sky and the impossible full moon and the skeins and the shawls and clusters of bright stars. – Neil Gaiman • Some people will tell you werewolves can only shapechange under a full moon, but people also say there’s no such things as ghosts. – Patricia Briggs • Sometimes two people stay together for the sake of the kids – two kids who sat under a full moon and pledged to be forever true. – Robert Breault • Summer ends, and Autumn comes, and he who would have it otherwise would have high tide always and a full moon every night. – Hal Borland • Sybil tells me your little festival is an annual occurrence,” she said, the cadence of her voice swooning like a lullaby. “Yes,” Kai said, lifting a shrimp wonton between his chopsticks. “It falls on the ninth full moon if each year.” “Ah, how lovely for you to base your holidays on the cycles of my planet.” Kai wanted to scoff at the word planet but sucked it back down his throat. – Marissa Meyer • Tell me what you feel in your room when the full moon is shining in upon you and your lamp is dying out, and I will tell you how old you are, and I shall know if you are happy. – Henri Frederic Amiel • The clue to one’s next step toward the door of initiation may be revealed at the Full Moon during the sign of Taurus. – Alice Bailey • The full moon – the mandala of the sky. – Tom Robbins • The full moon rises. The fog clings to the lowest branches of the spruce trees. The man steps out of the darkest corner of the forest and finds himself transformed into… A monkey? I think not. – Garth Stein • The shapes of letters do not derive their beauty from any sensual or sentimental reminiscences. No one can say that the O’s roundness appeals to us only because it is like that of an apple or of a girl’s breast or of the full moon. Letters are things, not pictures of things. – Eric Gill • The sky lay over the city like a map showing the strata of things and the big full moon toppled over in a furrow like the abandoned wheel of a gun carriage on a sunset field of battle and the shadows walked like cats and I looked into the white and ghostly interior of things and thought of you and I looked on their structural outsides and thought of you and was lonesome. – Zelda Fitzgerald • The white saucer like some full moon descends / At last from the clouds of the table above. – Harold Monro • The Witch can gaze clearly into the dark hidden corners of the human psyche just as the full moon can light up the darkness of night. – Raven Grimassi • There are a thousand flowers blossoming in spring, The magical light of the full moon in autumn; There is a breeze in summer, And snow in winter; And if vanities don’t hang in my mind, I shall rejoice at any time and place. – Wumen Huikai • These fourteen phases from full moon to new also have their result, and for the Egyptian consciousness this result was achieved through Isis. These fourteen phases are ruled by Isis. – Rudolf Steiner • Today, I feel stronger, learning to live within the natural cycles of a day and to not expect too much of myself. As women, we hold the moon in our bellies. It is too much to ask to operate on full-moon energy three hundred and sixty-five days a year. I am in a crescent phase. – Terry Tempest Williams • Tom Walls and his cohort are wolves in sheep’s clothing who will besmirch the memory of some genuine historic figures by the next full moon. – Dionne Warwick • Well. We’ll just have to hope that this wasn’t a loup-garou, I guess.” “If it was a louper, you’d know,” Bob said wisely. “In the middle of this town, you’d have a dozen people dead every time the full moon came around. What’s going on?” “A dozen people are dying every time the full moon comes around. – Jim Butcher • What if I arrange to be around Lord Akeldama during the full moon?” The earl looked daggers. “I am certain he would be extremely helpful in a fight. He could ruthlessly flatter all your attackers into abject submission. – Gail Carriger • What thoughts I have of you tonight, Walt Whit- man, for I walked down the sidestreets under the trees with a headache self-conscious looking at the full moon. In my hungry fatigue, and shopping for images, I went into the neon fruit supermarket, dreaming of your enumerations! – Allen Ginsberg • What was supposed to be so special about a full moon? It was only a big circle of light. And the dark of the moon was only darkness. But halfway between the two, when the moon was between the worlds of light and dark, when even the moon lived on the edge…maybe then a witch could believe in the moon. – Terry Pratchett • When my band MU landed on Maui in 1973 we were greeted by a wonderful group of peace loving brothers & sisters who we immediately formed a bond with. We had two instant roadies, Spider & Richard, who helped with every move of our musical equipment. We settled into our house on the edge of the rainforest that eventually became a portable studio. We started rehearsing and booked the Lahaina Civic Auditorium for a full moon concert starring MU and a local band The Space Patrol. – Merrell Fankhauser • When the sky is clear, when the sea is calm and the full moon is rising, whatever you are doing, leave it; go to the seaside; sit and watch it! You will then reach the land where there is no thinking; the land of pure wisdom! – Mehmet Murat Ildan • When we will all see our role in society as servants, we will all light up the sky together like countless stars on a dark night. Don’t think of society as the sky on a full moon night. The moon’s harsh light blinds us to the true and humble work of the stars. But on a moonless night, the true servants shine forth, as though they are connected invisibly in this vast and infinite cosmos. – Vinoba Bhave • When When it’s over, it’s over, and we don’t know any of us, what happens then. So I try not to miss anything. I think, in my whole life, I have never missed The full moon or the slipper of its coming back. Or, a kiss. Well, yes, especially a kiss. – Mary Oliver • When you fall in love with a work of art, you’d die to meet the artist. I am a student of the galleries of Pacific sunsets, full moon rises on the ocean, the clouds from an airplane, autumn forests in Raleigh, first fallen snows. And I’m dying to meet the artist. – Yasmin Mogahed • With passions stilled and one’s nature firm, all destinies are in harmony; When the full moon of contemplation is reached you will be pure. – Wu Cheng’en • You have some severe mental problem I need to be aware of, don’t you? (Shahara) Just because I eat babies for breakfast and pick my teeth with their bones doesn’t mean I’m nuts. (Syn) Any other weird habits I should be aware of? (Shahara) Just my need to dance naked in the streets under the light of a full moon. (Syn) – Sherrilyn Kenyon • You have to be able to appreciate these things. How many people can say it was a full moon last night and appreciate it? – Sandy Miller • You were overwhelmed by my desire? What planet are you from? (Geary to Arik) Moronia. Every full moon they teleport the Morons to earth and let them loose. Consider this your first encounter. (Solin) – Sherrilyn Kenyon

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equitiesstocks · 5 years ago

Text

Full Moon Quotes

Official Website: Full Moon Quotes

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Everyone you see, you say to them “Love me.”

Of course you do not do this out loud: Otherwise, Someone would call the cops.

Still, though, think about this, This great pull in us to connect.

Why not become the one Who lives with a full moon in each eye That is always saying,

With that sweet moon Language

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