#the wonder book of myths and legends

[uwmspeccoll]

Mythical Wonders

This 1928 edition of The Wonder Book of Myths and Legends was compiled by editor and writer William Byron Forbush (1868-1927). It was published in Philadelphia by the John C. Winston Company, where Forbush served as a consulting editor. The edition is adorned with illustrations by Frederick Richardson (1862-1937), an American illustrator most well-known for his vivid and imaginative illustrations in the works of L. Frank Baum.

The book is a treasure trove of enchanting stories of magic and wonder that captivated the ancient world. It explores myths and legends from various cultures, interweaving tales of gods, heroes, and fantastical creatures. The illustrations are a testament to the Art Nouveau movement. His use of striking colors and creative depictions brings the stories to life in a way that genuinely charms the reader.

-Melissa, Special Collections Classics Intern

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View our other posts on children's books.

[rrcraft-and-lore]

The migration of folktales, fables, myths, and The Doors of Midnight. I've talked about his following piece of work before - Panchatantra

Pronounced (cuz romanizing Sanskrit adds weird ass fake A's to things) Panch (or pah-nch, meaning FIVE) Tantr (thun-trr) Treatises. 

It is a collection of folk tales (and I talked about this in my true origin of "fairy tales" and even what inspired the Grimm Brothers thread) fables, particularly focusing on talking animal fables from India. The written text is about 200 BCE (before common era) but the stories themselves are agreed upon by folklorists and experts to be far older given Sanskrit's long oral traditional history and the fact India has a history of oral performers by caste passing down these tales these tales are as old as we can possibly imagine. It is arguably one of, if not the most, translated piece of work out of India, with copies of it having reached Europe by the 11th century CE - yes, that old. Old enough to influence many European stories - particularly folk/fairy tales, and we'll get into that, because believe it or not, some famous fabulist writers even credited the collection of tales/author as their direct inspiration. Wild, right?

Continuing. 

Panchatantra has been translated in nearly every major language with nearly 200 versions in 50 languages over the world. Before even the 1600s it had been translated into: Czech, Old Slavonic, Spanish, Italian, German, English, Greek, Latin, and more. 

The earliest known translation was 550 CE into Middle Persian (and we'll get into why this is important in Tales of Tremaine as it's a commentary/meta referential and analysis, and love letter about migration of stories as well as storytelling) -- by the 12th century it was really spreading through Europe based off the Hebrew translation by Rabbi Joel, which then went on to be translated in German by Anton von Pforr in 1480 -- nearly 40 years before the 1812 publication of The Grimm brothers tales. Yep. 

Now, to 1001 Nights - a collection of tales compiled by Alf Laylah wa-Laylah, which yes, includes stories from India that were translated as discussed above, and Syria and other parts of the Middle East as well obviously.

Panchatantra has been influential in both 1001 Nights as well in Sinbad. The particular inspirations were the usage of frame narrative, first recorded in India, and also the inclusion of specific styles of talking animal fables within the collection, and most specifically the motif of the wise young woman who delays and finally removes an impending danger by telling stories - if you've read The Doors of Midnight, you'll get now where I'm going with this.

Since the series is a mix of many things, including addressing/commentary on fantasy/myth-storytelling tropes, motifs, themes, history, origins, replying/referencing them in meta ways, as well as a discussion about western fantasy novels because there's a history in/with them also using tropes for exoticization and kind of fetishy exoticization at times without nodding to, offering, showcasing a lens to/of the cultures those techniques, stories, tropes come from, I wanted ot be able to talk about that in the context of the work (which does happen), critique, reference all of it. Book two is no different.

In where if you've read it, you'll see a genderbent take on the particular motif above, and if you're only understanding of stories is 1001 Nights, you might get it confused for ONLY referencing one story. Not true. While there are many overt and subtle references to that because this is a love letter and commentary on the migration of stories (which that is literally mentioned in the story itself), so it tries to include and nod to all the wonderful stories from all the cultures I can include along the Golden Road in this world.

The take in here not only references both Indian and Middle Eastern culture, but also dismantles and in fact comments on a toxic trope that has had previous positive iterations as well - namely: meeting the goddess/the temptress (two pieces of storytelling that often get lumped into one of a dude character bumps into smoking hot goddess who can't resist him, they boink (A LOT a lot a lot) he leaves or threatens to and she's upset, boink continues, then he gets a gift from her. This goes backs to the oldest epics, it's not western or even fairytale original, but it did become UBER popular in the west. Young bardic boy meets fae, they boink a lot. He leaves. Usually tragedy, not always. The end. Some magical gifts. 

But the idea behind the trope was never supposed to be this reductionist. It was supposed to (go back to this word I've used about) evoke SENSE OF WONDER. Meeting a powerful character in possession of knowledge (see power), and magic (also power but sense of wonder), and to learn from her, gain some wisdom for your own betterment and evolving into a better kind of hero, and then use your gifts she gives you to that end. See, Frodo meeting Galadriel, no hanky panky, much wisdom, both were offered different temptations (not of the body) and in the end helpful gifts for the quest. :)

So, if you like or want to learn more about comparative mythology, storytelling, seeing the origins of such and dismantling your ideas of: structures, plot, tropes, motifs, beats, so on - check out The First Binding and The Doors of Midnight (recently released by @torbooks and @gollancz (US/UK).

Anyways yeah. 

Back to more about this. I've shared before the assertions of Max Muller and others on the influence that 30-50 percent of western fairy tales/ballads/nursery rhymes owe their origins/inspiration to Indian tales -- but Jean de La Fontaine, a french fabulist and poet - one of the most read poet of that time, directly credits Indian stories and the Indian sage Pilpay for his source of inspiration in his works -- 

"This is a second book of fables that I present to the public... I have to acknowledge that the greatest part is inspired from Pilpay, an Indian Sage" - Jean de La Fontaine.

He's also not the only post medieval era author to specifically credit Indian stories and the sage Pilpay and others who contributed to the many other epics, collection of tales, individual tales, and more.

Now, IMPORTANT NOTE - inspiration here does not mean a direct 1-1. 

Yes, many are complete rewrites, translations which is obvy a translations, and others are using the motif and overall theme but converted to and through their cultural lens and time of place. That's how storytelling traveleled, evolved, and become coopted, adopted, and accessible to local masses in w.e. country/empire.

And that's obviously a massive theme in my work but using a central heroic figure or villainous to be a focal point for that to see how that happens around one figure as it's an easier way to do that in fiction rather than a freak ton of povs which would make it harder for readers to continue to track and grok all those changes within the frame narrative aspect.

[coffeeandcalligraphy]

never forget how when I was 13 and in grade 8 I had just started writing the Fostered series & that entire year I was so excited about it that I would talk and talk and talk about it in class, bring the manuscript with me to edit on field trips, and write when I finished my work early—and all of this culminated at the end of the year when I was talking to these girls and one of them was like “yeah you talk about your books a lot” and I was like “omg do I??? okay name a character” and they all went “HARRISON???”

[porcelainseashore]

Heavenly Creatures

Pairing: Altar Boy! Leon Kennedy x Catholic School Girl! Reader

Summary: Growing up in a conservative, Catholic community, you and Leon were kept apart as kids for your own good. However, a fateful encounter at church many years later causes you to question those boundaries.

Content & Warnings: 18+ Smut, porn with plot, unprotected p in v, oral (m & f receiving), rimming (f receiving), semi-public sex (church), Catholicism, religious imagery & symbolism, temptation, guilt, shaming, name-calling, growing up, smoking, swearing, romance, fluff, secret relationship.

Author's Note: Leon and Reader are in senior high and 18 when smut happens. No guarantee that you won’t burn in hell after reading this 🔥😂

Special thanks to AliBelleRosetta for being my sounding board + shadesoflsk & Cameron for your helpful feedback.

Title from Heavenly Creatures by Wolf Alice.

AO3 Link

Snake. Devil. Satan’s spawn.

Those were the names you had grown accustomed to as a child. You didn’t know why you were called them, instead of the one your parents had given you. You were too little to understand. All you knew was that you were made to feel different. Maybe you were really an anomaly from the rest after all.

Instead of being quiet and shy, you were loud and boisterous. It was natural for you, seeing as you were going through your tomboy phase, which was the exact reason your parents had stuck to when they received complaints about your behavior. They laughed it off, while others reined their daughters in, forcing them into perfect Sunday dresses, braided hair adorned with pastel ribbons and clean, black Mary Jane shoes. Good enough to fit into a pretty gift box with wrapping paper. But you would tear it all down, before anyone could lay a finger on you.

Growing up in a place where other children were told to shun you was difficult at first. But then, you learnt to play by yourself and relish in the power of make believe. You climbed trees, rolled in the mud and ran through the forest fending off imaginary monsters. Sometimes, when you bumped into other groups of boys who threw stones and made fun of you, you fought back, further earning the title of crazy witch! Who needed these idiots anyway? You were your own best company.

One day, you sat in your disheveled, cream cotton dress, swinging your legs from a tree in your front lawn as usual. It overlooked the suburban neighborhood street, giving you a bird’s eye view of your surroundings. You noticed a family of three strolling along the sidewalk, though the couple gave you a disapproving look as they walked past, and whispered to their little, adolescent boy. They thought they were being so discreet, but you could hear every single word they were saying.

“Don’t pay attention to her. She’s bad news.”

Regardless of this remark, the boy gave in to his curiosity and as he peered up, you held his wide-eyed gaze. His irises were azure in color, glowing as it caught the early dusk light from different angles, shifting across a stunning spectrum of bluish, iridescent hues. You were captivated by them, and as you continued staring, his cheeks turned rosy red, though it seemed like he could not break away from you either. That moment was abruptly cut short, as his father smacked the back of his head, chiding his son for disobeying him.

“Come along now, Leon.” The older man wrapped an arm around the boy’s shoulders, turning him away from your direction.

Leon. So, that was his name. As you watched them turn the corner at the end of the street and head off, you wondered if and when you’d see him again.

━━━━━━━━━━━

Leon had heard the stories passed around about you. His parents had often commented about your family as being one of those ‘weird, hippy types’. Frankly, this didn’t scare him, but rather, it fascinated him. They made you appear like something he had read in a book about myths and legends, and he wanted to see if it was real.

The next time he went out to play in the field, he walked by your place again on purpose, even though it would have been the longer route. As he had predicted, you were up in the tree again, lounging across its branches with your eyes closed, like a slithery snake basking in the sun. Your dress was stained with grass and dirt, and your feet were soiled and filthy. Twigs poked out haphazardly from your knotted, messy hair. 

You looked like a creature of sorts, alright, he thought.

He inched towards the base of the tree trunk gingerly, trying not to stir the sleeping beast. But as he got closer, he accidentally stepped into a pile of dead leaves, which crunched underfoot. 

You roused from your slumber then, rubbing your eyes as you stretched your arms out with a lazy yawn. He flinched when you looked downwards at him, as if you might strike out, but you just smiled and said, “Hi.”

He was confused then. From the descriptions of you, he had expected you to breathe fire and gnash your teeth at him fiercely, but you were just a normal girl. He gave you a puzzled look, nodding as he greeted you with a stutter, “Hi… I-I’m, uh, Leon.”

“I know.” You grinned.

“You do?” He looked astounded, as if you’d conducted some dark ritual to find out.

You picked up on this and teased him, wiggling your fingers as you mouthed, “Magic…”

He laughed, relaxing his stiff shoulders and asking you for your name. He’d only known you until now as that girl, or one of those nicknames people gave you out of spite.

You introduced yourself and offered him a half-eaten apple you had munched on before napping on the tree. He hesitated at first, regarding it as if it were a forbidden fruit, but eventually he reached out for it. Gratefully, he bit in, savoring the flavorful burst of its juicy flesh.

“Do you go to church?” He asked suddenly, out of the blue.

Shielding your eyes from the afternoon sun with your hand, you squinted at him. “Yeah, why?”

“Oh.” He paused, considering his next words, though he blurted out with unfiltered honesty, “Well, my dad said that demons can’t enter hallowed ground.”

“I’m not a demon,” you huffed indignantly.

“No, you aren’t,” he agreed, waving his hands in the air apologetically, trying to salvage the situation. “I think you’re nice, actually.” His face was warm and pink again.

“I think you’re nice too.”

And it continued on like this. Some days, he’d pop over to visit and speak with you from below the tree, when he was sure no one was watching. Until a day came where he wasn’t as careful, and was spotted by a concerned neighbor, who ratted him out to his parents. 

You were sad that he wasn’t allowed to see you again, but you’d grown used to being alone for most of your childhood, so you tried to put it behind you and move on, unaware that he’d often look out for you at each week’s Sunday Mass.

━━━━━━━━━━━

A number of years passed, and you filled out into your own body. You were in your senior year of an all-girls Catholic high school, and had recently turned 18. Reaching womanhood also meant that you became acutely aware of the changes in the way society treated you now, as compared to the opposite sex. Heads turned as you stalked around with one of the more unruly cliques in your school. Instead of being name-called after otherworldly creatures, you were reduced to bitch, slut, or whore. 

People hated what they couldn’t understand or control. You’d been giving the nuns a hard time by asking controversial questions about the biblical text you were meant to study and recite blindly. Detention was nothing new to you and your friends, whom you’d been caught smoking cigarettes together with on school grounds. You were a rebel at heart, and the rest of the law-abiding community wanted to crush that and make you conform.

Leon, on the other hand, had been going to the all-boys school next door, which shared a brother school relationship with yours. He was in the same year and age as you, though being a man meant he had the privilege of getting away with certain things you couldn’t. Even there, your name wasn’t safe from being circulated around the rumor mill. You were the subject of boys’ locker room talk. They associated you with the ‘bad girl’ crowd, highlighting your love for reading banned books and boasting about supposed sexual escapades with you. 

“She’ll do favors,” they said, making vulgar gestures by moving their fist back and forth in front of their mouth, while poking their tongue against their cheek.

Leon slammed his locker door shut and stormed off. It made him uncomfortable that they gossiped about you that way, but he was even more ashamed of the fact that he made no effort to stand up for you. He hardly knew you, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out that what they were doing was finding a scapegoat to blame. That, unfortunately, time and time again, happened to be you.

Most of the students there were sexually active anyway, but no one had complained about them. As long as one kept things on the down-low and upheld a certain moralistic façade, they were considered as ‘innocent’, ‘pure’, or ‘normal’ even. For one, he was pretty sure that his father was having an affair with the church choir mistress, but that seemed to go overlooked. 

Everyone’s such hypocrites, he pondered, frowning in distaste. Including himself. Although he liked to think that he was brave and courageous, in actuality, he was afraid of rocking the boat. Fitting in was more important, just as his parents had taught him from a young age. It was the side of him that he hated the most, but could not get rid of.

Gathering his belongings, he left school and hurried off. He’d been requested last-minute to serve at Mass that evening, as one of the other altar boys had fallen ill. At church, he exchanged his school uniform for the standard black cassock and white surplice, before starting with the Introductory Rites.

You, on the other hand, had been singled out along with a bunch of other troublesome girls to attend Evening Mass with the Mother Superior that day. It was just your luck that you had to devote an hour of your time to a set of outdated rituals and prayers, with the aim of reflecting upon your sins. The most frustrating part of this exercise was that all of you were placed in the front row pews, so there was no chance of daydreaming or dozing off in front of the priest. You’d never been much of a believer, but sometimes you did speculate if God was watching your every move from above.

As you stood up for the entrance procession, which signaled the start of Mass, a familiar mop of dirty blonde hair and dazzling blue eyes passed by. You’d recognize that anywhere, but it was a wonder how you hadn’t realized that he was serving as an altar boy all this while. Maybe your Mass timings hadn’t aligned? Or maybe you just never paid much attention in church. You’d only seen him here and there when he attended Mass with his family as part of the congregation, but you ignored him back then, because you didn’t want to remember the feeling of losing the closest thing you had to a friend in your pre-teen days.

When Leon turned around to face the congregation for the greeting, he gulped as he saw you, standing almost directly in front of him as both of you made the Sign of the Cross. Speak of the devil, he muttered internally, before chastising himself for unintentionally insulting you and shook that thought away.

You gave him a coy smile as he scampered off to where he was meant to be stationed. For the first time in a while, you took the chance to admire his chiseled features and how much he had grown. He had always been attractive, but he was no longer the little boy you used to know, and instead now a fine, young man, in an even finer religious attire. Puberty did him good, you mused.

All at once, a mischievous plan flashed across your mind as you plotted how to win his attention. It would be an entertaining way to pass the time in this mundane institution. Viewing the school uniform as yet another means for the authorities to curb people’s freedom and creative expression, you had a habit of violating the dress code by making minor adjustments to it. Whether it was shortening the hem of your skirt or wearing below the ankle socks, you went for it. And today was no exception.

You waited until it was time to be seated before attempting to catch his gaze. Within a few minutes, he sneaked a peek your way and you stifled a laugh. Bingo. As you continued looking straight at him, you stretched your legs out cautiously, so as not to alert the Mother Superior, who sat beside you, to your antics. His eyes widened and flickered, as you showed off their length, rotating your ankles in small circles languidly. The other altar boys started to take note and whispered in hushed tones amongst themselves. But you only had eyes for Leon, scrutinizing him like a hawk, as you bared your teeth with a sly grin plastered across your face.

It was only a matter of time before the Mother Superior rapped you on the legs with a thin, wooden cane she carried around for doling out such punishments. The other girls in your row giggled as you returned your legs to a respectable position, disregarding the smarting pain that had accompanied the blow. 

It was worth it, you reasoned, spotting Leon’s lopsided smile, as he turned away to hide his blush.

This soon carried on like an unspoken game between you and Leon. You’d attend Mass whenever he was serving as an altar boy, and he’d look out for you, exchanging glances like a secret code shared between the two of you. A sense of thrill arose within him each time, as to what you’d try next. If only he knew what you were capable of.

At some point, you grew bolder. During the Holy Communion, where Leon had been helping the priest to hold the patina under the chins of those who received the Sacred host, you made sure once again to make eye contact with him the whole way through. Your mouth was slightly agape, as you extended your tongue, clasping your hands together in a pious prayer position. When the priest placed the host in your mouth, you swallowed it suggestively, licking your upper lip for a finishing touch. Leon nearly stumbled over backwards as his face turned bright red like a tomato. The last thing he heard was your silvery laughter, and you returned to your seat as if nothing had happened. You had ensnared him now.

When Mass ended, you slipped him a note, asking him to meet you at the confessional when everyone else had been ushered out. You knelt in the penitent compartment, waiting for him to arrive, confident that he would show up. A few minutes later, you heard someone enter the booth where the priest usually sat.

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned,” you began. Through the latticed screen, you could just about make out Leon’s face as he chuckled.

“What are you playing at?”

“You tell me,” you challenged, testing the waters. “I haven’t received any complaints.”

“Well, I have a question,” he mentioned quietly. “Do you still remember when we hung out back then? At the tree.”

There was pang in your heart, as you recalled your childhood memories. “Of course, you were the only one who bothered to speak to me.”

You pursed your lips before taking the plunge. “I really appreciated that.”

There was a momentary pause, as he took your words in. “I wish they didn’t separate us.”

“It isn’t too late to start over.” It was humiliating how eager you sounded. No matter how much you tried to repress it, you yearned to rekindle that connection you had with him once.

“Listen, I like you,” he admitted, sighing heavily. “But, I can’t go public with this. My parents-”

“Who says it has to be public?” You retorted defensively. 

His heartfelt confession emboldened you, yet a part of you felt dejected that this was the best option he could offer. However, you didn’t want to concede without giving it a shot.

He made a noise which sounded like he was in disbelief. “You mean-”

“Shall I come over and show you?” You interrupted, already getting up before he could answer.

“Y-yeah,” he stammered. “I-I’d like that, I guess.”

Exiting your compartment, you stepped out and swiftly went over to where he was, closing the door behind you. It was crammed and stuffy in this tiny box with two people, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. Giving him a once-over, it struck you that he was still in his altar boy attire and perhaps what you were about to do was wrong on so many levels, but you brushed those thoughts aside.

“Um-”

Before he could speak any further, you ran your hands up along his chest and planted your lips onto his, soft and pillowy in texture. He let out a low moan, easing into your embrace as he kissed back, holding onto the back of your head for better leverage. His tongue grazed across your lips and you parted them in response, allowing it to slip inside as you tasted each other. Grabbing the collar of his cassock, you pressed your bodies together heatedly. You sucked on his tongue, eliciting another moan from his throat, as you shuffled him around, pushing his back against the wooden wall with a loud thud. Both of you had lost yourselves in a whirlwind of kisses, oblivious to the outside world and the ruckus you were making.

However, it was hard to ignore the hymn that was being sung when the next Mass started. Leon froze, before pulling away hastily. His mouth was red and swollen, and a pearly string of saliva connected it with yours.

“Shit, we lost track of time,” he panted. 

If you didn’t want to be seen, you’d need to remain where you were until the Mass ended. In other words, both of you were trapped here for at least another hour. 

Not being one to let such matters ruin the vibe, you responded, “That’s not a problem for me.” Trailing a lone finger down Leon’s body seductively, you let it come to rest above the growing bulge in his cassock.

“Are you serious?” He breathed, as you cupped your hand around it, palming him through his clothes.

“You got a better idea?” You murmured in his ear, squeezing his erection a little as you continued rubbing against it.

“Don’t get me wrong, it feels amazing.” His voice was strained as he spoke. “But, it’s just…”

“Catholic guilt?” You teased.

“Yeah, probably.” He nodded sheepishly.

“Well, maybe if we get you out of this thing.” You gestured to his attire. “You might relax into it more.”

“Makes sense,” he agreed, tugging the surplice over his head and discarding it to the ground. “Though it never really goes away, does it?”

You shrugged, shaking your head. “I still get it, but it’s less of an issue now.” It made you follow up with a question of your own. “Does that mean I’m a bad person?”

His eyes crinkled as he grinned. “You're doing it again.”

“Hm?”

“Guilt,” he indicated. “But to answer your question, no, I don’t think you’re a bad person.”

“Doesn’t matter anyway.” You tried to deflect the topic, knowing the rumors that people spread about you. Leon had probably heard it all. “At least there’s still hope for you.”

“Thanks?”

“Don’t thank me yet.” You winked, removing the sash from his cassock as he unbuttoned the rest of it, revealing a plain white shirt and a pair of shorts underneath.

He snickered as you clucked your tongue at the sight. “What did you expect me to do? Go Commando?”

“Would’ve been hot,” you pointed out.

Leon had always been perceptive. From your interactions, he began to suspect that sometimes you relied on lighthearted banter as a way to mask your nervousness and other underlying emotions.

Nestling his fingers under your chin, he turned you towards him. “You sure about this?”

“Mm hm.” It was sweet of him to check in. Most guys never offered you the same courtesy. “Been thinking about it since Communion,” you added brazenly.

He snorted as you gave him a quick peck on the lips. Working your way down, you kissed his clothed body, pulling the waistband of his underwear and shorts to his ankles. Kneeling before him, you reached for his cock, smearing beads of his precum carelessly along his velvety skin, while you pumped his hot shaft slowly.

He inhaled sharply, snapping his eyes shut, as he tilted his head back in pleasure. In the background, you could hear the priest’s sermon droning on.

With a smug smile, you warned, “Do me a favor and try to keep it down, will you?”

Before he had a chance to react, you filled your mouth with his cock, sliding all the way down its hardened length.

“Jesus,” he groaned.

Instantly, you released it with a pop and tutted in mock disappointment, “Taking the Lord’s name in vain?”

“We’re so going to hell for this,” he laughed faintly, tangling his hands in your hair.

“Ah-” He gasped again, as you held onto the base of his cock, lifting it to flatten your tongue on its underside. Slathering it with saliva, you took his balls into your wet mouth, one at a time, sucking on them delectably. “Fuck!”

“Don’t you ever shut up?” You joked.

“Not if you keep doing what you’re doing, angel.”

Angel. That was a new one. You’d never been called that before, but you liked the sound of it.

Wrapping your lips around his cock, you started a steady rhythm, bobbing your head up and down his shaft. Each time you came up, you flicked your tongue at the tip, licking it as you stared up at him. His eyes flew open, gazing at you with lust and arousal while you sucked him off more vigorously.

Sliding his cock in deeper, you allowed it to hit the back of your throat, causing you to make a guttural noise. Clenching his fist, he bit down hard on his knuckles to stop himself from crying out. If this was hell, he’d stay right here with you. He couldn’t think straight anymore, as he bucked his hips forward in response.

Grabbing his ass, your fingernails left crescent shaped indents on his skin, as you let him fuck your mouth to chase his high. Tears lined your eyelashes and sweat poured down your brow. It had gotten incredibly hot and humid in this enclosed space. But his muted moans only served to turn you on even more. You wondered how perverse and trashy you looked in this position, though Leon could only mumble the opposite in his feverish state.

Soon, he tensed and quivered while hissing through gritted teeth, “God, I’m gonna cum.”

Lady Luck appeared to be on your side, as the congregation were in the middle of singing another hymn, which inadvertently muffled whatever sounds were coming from the confessional. He struggled to hold in his groans as you felt a thick, salty load of his cum wash up against your throat. You choked a bit before swallowing it whole.

Collapsing backwards, you leaned against the cool surface of the seat behind you, wiping the edges of your mouth. Tucking his spent dick back under his clothes, he sank down beside you, kissing you gently and tasting himself on your lips. 

“You ok?” He brushed his thumb along your cheek.

You nodded silently and smiled, contemplating if there would be a future to what you had with him now.

“I ruined you,” he jested, showering you with kisses along your jawline.

“As if.” You rolled your eyes, but deep down, you knew it was the truth.

And, just like he had read your mind, he uttered the magic words, “So, when will I see you again?”

━━━━━━━━━━━

Since the encounter at the confessional, you continued your clandestine meetings with Leon, just like back in the old days, except both of you were now wiser in covering your tracks. In public, you pretended not to know each other, yet shared furtive, longing glances when you were in the same vicinity. Sometimes, he would make an excuse to brush past you, his touch ghosting across the curve of your spine, your shoulders, the back of your hand to the tip of your pinkie finger. Away from prying eyes, you hooked up passionately, damning each other further to hell. How many levels were there again? You’d lost count.

You enjoyed the moments spent with him. The aftercare and cuddling. The long talks into the night. You understood each other somehow, it wasn’t like this with other people. So, if the Day of Judgment arrived, why would God not sympathize with you both?

Despite that, neither of you had put a label on where you stood with each other. How did this secret relationship work? If you were found out, would he ditch you like before? Would you be thrown under the bus, so that he could be purified again? It wasn’t long until insecurity reared its ugly head, gnawing at you from within.

Leon sensed something was off as you lay in his arms, naked while he spooned you in the back seat of his car, parked along a desolate dirt path near the forest. You had that pensive look on your face, like you were in a world of your own, one where he couldn’t enter.

Pulling you close to him, he kissed the top of your shoulder, coaxing you out of your reverie. “Wanna talk about it?”

You hummed noncommittally. After a long pause, you asked, “Are you embarrassed by me?”

He was caught off-guard by the question and his breathing stilled. “No,” he argued. “Why would you think that?”

“I’m just tired of hiding,” you sighed. “It’s like I’m making you do something bad.”

There was a brief ache in his chest, as guilt swelled up like a wave. Coward, an inner voice spat.

Carding his fingers through your hair, he pressed his lips against the temple of your head. “You make me feel like the best version of myself.”

“Hm.” You pinched your lips together, wanting to believe him, but you weren’t convinced.

He observed this, but decided not to press the issue any further, knowing that you needed action, not words.

She’ll be your downfall. A surly voice piped up within him, like fire and brimstone. He shook it off, ignoring the moral tug-of-war that had occurred once he made that statement, as he vowed to prove himself to you in the coming days.

━━━━━━━━━━━

The next time you’d agreed to meet was in church, after the very last Mass of the day. He was serving as an altar boy again, and you were intrigued as to whether he had planned to reenact the entire confessional scene or switch it up with something new, like making you go through the Stations of the Cross while fucking you. You giggled at the idea, only to be shushed by a fellow parishioner, whom you had disturbed in meditative prayer.

When Mass ended and everyone except yourself had left the nave, you waited patiently for him in the pews. After a while, you felt a tap on your shoulder and turned around to face Leon, who had changed into his casual clothes. As you got to your feet, he cupped the sides of your face in his hands, closing the distance, and bringing your lips to meet his in a fervent kiss. You were slightly taken aback by his initiation, since he was usually the shyer one out of the two of you.

Claiming your hand in his, he led you to the front, where the altar stood before the austere crucifix that hung from the wall. He smirked, noticing the look of shock and incredulity on your face, as it gradually began to dawn on you what he had in mind. However, he was anxious too, you could tell from the way his hand was trembling. He was sealing his fate, and you were both going down together. Nothing could bring you back after this ultimate act of blasphemy.

At the foot of the altar, he caressed his lips against yours. “I guess God is our witness now.”

Leaning in, you found yourselves consumed in a lip lock, which deepened with each passing second as you helped each other out of your clothes, kicking them off unceremoniously to the side. He spun you around, bending you forward against the smooth, marble top of the altar. The cold surface caused your nipples to harden and goosebumps to form on your skin. You shivered as he spread your legs wider apart and knelt down, holding your thighs as he licked a firm stripe along your silken folds. 

As he continued to lap at the sensitive flesh, he brought a hand towards your clit, stroking it softly with his middle finger. You jerked from the sensation, whimpering as he alternated between thrusting his tongue into your heat and suckling it with his lips. There was a slight pressure as you felt one of his fingers sliding into your pussy, already soaked with arousal. At the same time, his tongue trailed up towards your rim, teasing it with long, flat licks.

“Oh my god!” You gasped, gripping the edge of the altar, as an electrifying tingle coursed through your veins.

There was a playful smack on your ass. “Forgotten the Third Commandment already?” Leon scolded.

“Huh?”

“Taking the Lord’s name in vain,” he mimicked your tone from when you had teased him at the confessional.

“Ugh,” you whined. “I’m sure this is the least of our concerns.”

You felt his hot breath against your asshole before he dipped his tongue in lightly. Simultaneously, he pumped your pussy, pushing in another finger and stretching you out, before his tongue went back to circling around your rim, inciting a string of moans from your mouth.

“Feeling good?”

“Mm, yes,” you replied hoarsely. “But when are you going to fuck me?”

He coughed out a laugh at your bluntness, before imparting a piece of unsolicited advice. “Patience is a virtue.”

You groaned at his quip. “Really, Leon? Are you-”

He interrupted rudely, pressing his hand on your back as he entered you, burying his cock deep into your cunt. You nearly screamed in ecstasy as he pounded his hips against your ass repeatedly, already setting a brutal pace from the beginning. Maybe you should’ve been careful of what you wished for.

“What was that again?” He taunted.

You growled, clenching your jaw as you felt his dick dragging against your sensitive walls. The lewd sound of skin slapping against skin echoed across the space. Your mind fogged up in an insatiable haze as you pushed back rhythmically against his thrusting, allowing him to penetrate you further, and taking pleasure in how his head brushed against your cervix with each stroke.

“So close,” you rasped, your core tightening as if it was about to burst.

At this, he pulled away briefly, flipping you over as he lifted you onto the altar top. He had a bruising grip around your thighs, which you wrapped around his waist instinctively, interlocking your ankles behind his back to draw him closer. Bewitched, he took a moment to drink in the divine sight of your flushed, moist body, supple and wanting in his arms, before kissing you sloppily on the mouth. Pressing his forehead against yours, he asserted, “You don’t know what you do to me, angel.”

With that, he rutted into you relentlessly, your breasts bouncing as you clung to the back of his neck, crying out in rapture. When you finally snapped, a glimmer from the gold cross necklace he wore daily flashed before your eyes. You looped your index finger around it, tugging at it as you peered up at the bleeding face of Christ looking down at you ominously from the crucifix. The last remains of the day’s light filtered through the stained glass behind him, casting a kaleidoscope of mottled colors across your bodies, the altar and the stone floor, like a disease.

You realized you had tempted Leon beyond salvation. But in spite of it, he had followed you willingly. This was the proof he had wanted to show you. You were the angel he would desecrate everything for. He’d cut your wings off so you’d be his and stay.

His cock throbbed with desire as he rode you through your orgasm. As he neared the edge, he pulled out, finishing himself off. Nuzzling his face into your neck, he murmured a mixture of curses and professions against your skin, while spurting hot white cum over the mound of your pussy. Holding onto the marbled structure for support, he bent over you, placing tender kisses on your eyes and your lips.

It seemed as if he had turned his back on God and worshiped you now. But instead of a guilty conscience, you felt nothing but love. Silently, both of you cleaned up and got dressed. He delicately reattached the butterfly clip that had come loose in your hair, while you wiped away the lipstick that had smudged onto his face. There would be no signs of what had transpired, except he had another surprise lined up for you. 

Upon exiting the church doors, Leon took your hand, lacing his fingers through yours, as you walked out onto the street together. You were his - he’d show you off to the whole damn world without shame.

[lunarforager]

Little Ways to Worship

In our current day and age, it can be hard to find time and/or energy to devote to the deities you worship or look upon for guidance. So here are some small ways to worship in your day-to-day that don't take too much effort!

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1.) Carry around crystals, stones, or other objects you think your deity would like --> An example from my pracitce is carrying around rose quartz (a crystal known for its love related properties, such as increasing one's self confidence, attracting love and compassion, and healing relationships) for Aphrodite, a goddess associated with love, both from other people and towards yourself

2.) Incorporate worship into day-to-day activties --> An example from my practice is one again tied to rose quartz and Aphrodite. I love placing rose quartz crystals in my shower while I bathe to infuse the shower and steam with self-love while showing myself care and compassion as I bathe. (NOTE: Be careful with putting crystals or stones into water! Some cannot touch water as they will either dissolve or leech harmful chemicals or elements into the water they touch. Make sure to do your research and make sure your crystals are water safe!)

3.) Research your deities! Read their stories! Research the religions and peoples that originally worshipped them! --> This might be easier for some (for example I read a lot of Greek myths and legends as I'm a classics major and that's like, more than half of my degree) but it can still be as simple as purchasing a book of myths or watching YouTube videos about them! (If you want a good channel for hellenic deities and their myths, check out OverlySarcasticProductions! They do a wonderful job speaking about and animating the stories and both creators are LGBTQ+ and have a very inclusive community!)

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Well, there's my list of simple ways to worship your deities in day-to-day life! I hope something from this post was helpful or interesting and if you want more informaiton, more ideas, or just want to chat, feel free to message me! I always love making new online friends!

Valete, friends! <3

[samuel-de-champagne-problems]

Grad school Spencer in his little white coat and glasses getting his chem PhD and he just spills everything and goes 🫠 because he sees English lit major reader walking by from the lap window.

because I will die on the hill that this actually happened.

hiiiii 💕

like 23 year old phd candidate spencer in his white lab coat is everything to me and i took some liberties so bear with me :)

spencer reid x female reader

So he’s working in his lab doing something sciencey and smart

He’s already a phd in math and engineering which makes him something a myth in his departments

Part of his program makes him work as a TA for a chemistry course which is how he meets you

You’re a Literature major and Sociology minor and in his Chemistry class. It’s filled with many students, but Spencer wouldn’t need an eidetic memory to remember you

He never found the courage to talk to you, thinking that you’ve probably already have a boyfriend on a count for how pretty and smart you are.

Every Tuesday and Thursday he sees you walk by his lab. He forces himself to not recognize the pattern, but it’s impossible when you’re so magnetic to look at and think about and patterns are so recognizable to his brain. And out of risk of you thinking he’s a stalker, he decides it’s safer if he ignores you walk by

What Spencer doesn’t realize is that you’ve also noticed his pattern of being in the lab the same days you’re in the Sociology wing.

One day he’s busy his lab, and he can see you through the big picture window. He feels his hands grip the beaker and his grateful that the chemical liquids he’s working with today are something as simple as water

As he gazes through the big window he watches you walk with a big stack books in you arms

He walks to the sink, needing an extra 30mLs of water in his beaker, but as his does he accidentally trips over a stool and crashes to the floor

He jumps up, and sees you look at him in horror. Which wasn’t the way he planned on you looking at him (he forced the thoughts of the various ways you could look at him from his mind)

Suddenly you rush into the lab and just as Spencer tries to stammer about maintaining proper hygiene protocols in the lab, your hands are gripping his wrist

“You’re bleeding” you say, and Spencer watches as you maintain steady, tight pressure on his open wound to stop the bleeding

“I didn’t realize” Spencer says with a stained smile. He’s planned on how he’d approach you over and over again in his mind ever since he saw you in the Chemistry class he TA’ed last semester “I was preoccupied”

“It’s alright, Doctor Reid. You’re not going to need stitches or anything. But let me put some bandaging on it.”

Spencer gulps, as he tries to remember how to breathe. All he can focus on is how your hair frames your face perfectly and how your perfume smells like earl grey tea and honey and apples

“You can call me Spencer, Y/N” He whispers, listening to as you practically drag him by the wrist to the first aid kit

“You know my name?” You ask, a look or wonder and amusement washes over your face

Spencer jerks his head back not in pain nor in discomfort, but rather in confusion. “Of course I do, why wouldn’t I know your name. You’re Y/N.”

You lick your bottom lip as a small smile plays on the corner of your mouth. “there were a lot of students in your class last semester. I’m not very good at chemistry. Nor do I have a particularly memorable face.”

Spencer raised his eyebrows in disbelief. You gently placed a bandage on his cut. “You did very well in the class. And as for your face, it’s very memorable. More than memorable, honestly. It’s gorgeous—oh, no I didn’t—I don’t intend to be forward…”

“I think you got a memorable face too, Doc” You say, smiling as you sit knee to knee on the lab stools

“It’s Spencer,” He says, blushing as he nudged his hand forward to just barely touch yours

You stand, smiling as you do so, “Doc suits you. You’re kinda a legend and you’re really cute when you flush like that when I call you Doc”

[tzuberry]

me, you, and the red bracelet

pairing gunwook + gn reader details red string of fate but not rlly (?) cw blood (not graphic), trip/fall wc 1192 read time 5 mins

note i hate this bruh i cba to fix it or anything i think the entire plot of this is what’s wrong with it it just doesn’t feel right.. unfortunately

masterlist navigation

You never thought anything much of the red string bracelet your mother gave you on the day of your middle school graduation—just that it looked kind of stupid. Upon receiving it, at the unripe age of fourteen, you contemplated its purpose and why your mom couldn’t give you a shiny new Pandora charm bracelet as your friends’ parents did for them.

Nevertheless, as a relic of representation of your grandmother’s beliefs (as your dad had told you), it became difficult to take off… metaphorically. You couldn’t just disrespect a family member like that; especially one that had essentially raised you. So, the sort of odd-looking, entirely useless red string wrapped around your wrist had to stay just the way it was.

Over time, its significance, and the meaning of it, diminished in your point of view. No one in your family had taken the time to enlighten you on its real purpose, so in the end… what—who were you wearing it for?

“I think it’s cute,” your friend Eunah said one day. She had a stripe of frothed milk above her upper lip from drinking the cafe mocha she ordered, so it was hard to take her seriously. Still, it was clear what she was talking about; she slid the tip of her finger under the red string across your wrist, tugging on it slightly.

In the mid-afternoon of another unremarkable Saturday, you’d found yourselves at the nearest coffee shop to your building on campus. You had a lot of work to catch up on, and Eunah graciously offered to accompany you… but she ended up not much of a help. Additionally, she only got you wondering if you had a milk mustache identical to hers, seeing as you’d gotten the same drink.

“It’s alright,” you replied, letting out a deep breath as you continued writing with your free hand. “I’m thinking of taking it off one of these days.”

“Oh, come on,” your friend groaned. “It means something, you know,” she stated, tone almost defensive. Your best friend was big on myths, theories, and any kind of legend—she was probably about to regale you on another one, this time concerning the bracelet you wore daily. “Like, when you find your soulmate, the string will break—I’ve heard of it.”

You scoffed. “Yeah, okay.” You were never one to believe any of this, which is why you never did any of your own research regarding your red string. It’s stupid, and it looks stupid too.

“Fine. Don’t believe me then,” she said, amused and rolling her eyes. “Just… when it happens, at least tell me I was right. And that I told you so.” Eunah began to pack her things into her blue Herschel backpack, and with all your textbooks and notepads laid out on the table, you didn’t have the chance to notice that she…

She stood up, wearing her bag over both shoulders. “I’ll see you on Monday, [Name]. Text me when you leave later.”

“Mhm,” you passively hummed. “Text me when you get home.”

She nodded. “I will.” Then, she went out the door.

It’d been only a few minutes post-Eunah exit when you came to find that your advanced chem textbook was gone—just— poof. As if it hadn’t had a spot on the table earlier, as if someone had… oh. (As if someone had taken it.)

You dashed out of the cafe as quickly as you could, not minding the passers-by and their brief judgmental glances. You needed that book—your exam was on Monday. You couldn’t even begin to think about what you would do without it. And, sure, it wouldn’t have been the end of the world if you weren’t able to catch up to Eunah, but it was more convenient to chase after her now than to commute to her house or assign a delivery service to bring you your textbook.

It had just so happened when your friend came into view, you… tripped. Shit. At least your arms broke the fall.

You were so certain the palms of your hands were grazed and (a very tiny bit) bloodied—so much so that you concluded it would hurt to prop yourself up to stand. Luckily, although you didn’t know it at the time…

“You alright?” a stranger asked, extending help in the form of his hand reaching for yours.

Despite your better judgment, the first thing that came to your mind had unfortunately been: he’s really, really cute. And tall. He flashed you an awkward smile, which prompted you to wonder why until he shook his empty hand in front of you—a subtle reminder that you had yet to get up from the floor.

“Oh, oh—!” you gasped, taking his offer into grasp. (Not too tightly though. Your palm was still… bleeding.) Your eyes locked onto his wrist as he helped you back up, and it’s just then that you realized it: your red string bracelet is gone.

The boy laughed. “That was a hard fall,” he said, nearly giggling in… amusement at your misfortune. He had taken his hand back before you could even hope that your blood didn’t rub off on him. His smile dropped. “You’re bleeding.”

Your red string bracelet was gone.

Your red string bracelet was gone.

Your red string bracelet was... who even is this guy?

“Hello? Are you good?” He waved his hand ahead of your face.

“[Name],” he called out. How did he know your name? (Newsflash: it was on your ID.) “Are you good?”

With half your consciousness gone due to the sole premise of your bracelet disappearing, you’d lost the ability to lead any train of thought clearly. “What’s your name?” you semi-breathlessly inquired, tilting your head and raising a brow.

He pointed to himself and asked for clarification. With this gesture, you noticed that he wore the same ID lanyard as yours. “Me?”

“Yes.”

“Gunwook.” He smiled softly.

Could Eunah really have been right? You’d just met this guy, when—

“Gunwook, can I have your number?” ... Impulse took over the rationality in you.

He broke into the widest grin you’d ever seen. He let go of your hand, which you hadn’t remotely noticed he took ahold of again, and stared at you intently as he waited for you to open your phone. You didn’t have your phone on you.

With a shake of your head, he immediately understood and pulled a pen out of his pocket. “Got paper?”

That you did. Gunwook ripped it into two, gave you one, wrote his number down first, and then lent you his pen. He wanted your number too…

“Uh, here it is.” Passing the piece of paper back to him, you pursed your lips, and the corners of your mouth came up ever-so-slightly. “Thanks. I’ll, um, go now.”

You rushed away (briskly walking) from the echo of Gunwook’s voice, ringing out with the question: “Wait! How’s your hand?”

“Good!” you yelled back.

Fortunately, when you reached the cafe again, your belongings and coffee were left untouched. There, you fished out your phone from somewhere in your backpack and called Eunah right away, planning to open with the line: “You were right, and you told me so.”

[lixiesfreckless]

No Translation Needed | h. h.

➸ synopsis: when the language barrier between you and a stranger becomes too wide, your shared interests bridge the gap for you.

➸ starring: hwang hyunjin x female reader

➸ word count: 2.7k

➸ general content: artist!hyunjin, there is somewhat of a language barrier, both people are complete art nerds and it's way too endearing, takes place in south korea, flufffff(I'm so fond of this man)

➸ warnings: microscopic mention of alcohol

➸ rating: teen+

➸ author’s note: an older fic but I'm still so attached to it. two kinds of people: the type who hear hyunjin speak english and move on, and then me

♫ this fic has a soundtrack! you don’t need to listen to it while reading, but rêverie by the man, the myth, the legend, claude debussy goes SO HARD ON THIS FIC LIKE-

You were never the type to dabble in realism.

A pair of headphones, a wide brush, a blank canvas, and a bucket of red paint; that was your activity of choice on friday nights. Nothing that came from that ever resembled anything in particular, but it was never supposed to. Just looking at it, one could tell what emotions fueled the creative process those nights.

The feelings behind them were real enough, you'd hear people say.

But of course, there's always some people that detest abstract art. They say it takes no talent, no thought, that you're just slathering paint on a canvas and expecting to get recognition for it. Sometimes you think they're right.

Other times you buy a plane ticket out of the country, you know, for fun. If you were a starving artist, maybe you'd think about letting their words get to you.

And while some would argue that booking a spontaneous vacation to Seoul could classify as a form of escapism, the painting in front of you has you wondering whether you could mark this trip in your tax forms as a business expense.

All of your years in art school and not once had you ever learned so much from one piece of canvas.

Art museums are designed to look boring. They are supposed to draw your eye from one acrylic-covered canvas to another, making you forget about your surroundings and immerse you into the various artworks. This one was no different, hues of beige and black and white littering the geometric space.

That being said, you are certain that this painting would have caught your eye even if it was posted in Times Square.

You had made your way across the room, ears picking up on the few Korean phrases you knew as strangers shifted around you. A graphite cityscape. A gouache vase of flowers. A portrait made of ink prints on wood. The exhibit you randomly picked over tonkatsu and soju last night in your hotel room was definitely a good one, no doubt.

And to think you almost walked past this piece.

Bold strokes of blue, tiny specks of white, all on a frame that was wider than your wingspan. 

The girl was depicted just off center, in some billowy white dress.

Floating? Drowning? 

You settle on suspended as your footsteps slow down, turning to approach the watery scene.

Staring at it feels like staring at a glass of water. You can't definitively say whether it’s half-empty or half-full, whether she’s reaching for the surface or letting herself sink. Her face is covered by wispy brown hair, obstructing her true emotions from view. Somehow you know this was a conscious decision the artist made, to let the viewer come to their own conclusion on the piece.

Even though you know about the negative effects that human oils have on artworks, you still find yourself fighting the urge to reach out and touch it. To feel the ripples of the oil paint and somehow find your own hand soaked, as if you reached through the canvas barrier and felt the cold loneliness yourself.

Impressionist paintings did always have this charm about them, at least to you. They felt abstract upon inspection, just a mess of strange brushstrokes and controversial colors. And yet when viewed from a distance, it feels like a completely different experience. Up close, a dizzying mix of the shades of the sky. A step back, and it's an unspoken thesis on the solitude of limbo, or whatever you've decided to name this piece.

You glance at the info card at the bottom right corner.

Buoyancy- Hwang Hyunjin

You make a mental note to research him later before your eyes get pulled to the subject once again.

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧

You have been staring at his painting for eight minutes.

He had walked around, chatted with other featured artists, talked with a few strangers, but when he came back, you had acted as though you were one of the items on display; still locked in the same position as before. Eyebrows furrowed, one hand resting on your canvas tote bag, the other in the pocket of your trousers. 

In the nicest way possible, you looked like a tourist.

But tourists don't have long attention spans, and you could have been roleplaying a statue with how long you'd been standing there.

A strange mix of anxiety and excitement rushed through Hyunjin when he found you still standing there. 

No one had ever observed his art for that long before.

At least, not in one sitting. Definitely not like this. Why haven't you moved on? Can you see something that he can't? Are you thinking of buying a print?

He wants to approach you. To leave you alone. To watch you scrutinize his painting. To run screaming to the event coordinator.

Casually, he sticks both hands in his jeans and stands a few feet from your right side, as if he's one of the visitors.

He takes a moment, gaining whatever’s left of his composure before speaking.

“I'm so glad I know how to swim.”

You snap out of your daze, surprised to hear English in the Korean white noise you've been immersed in. You look over and see the gorgeous young man standing near you, looking at the painting you've been so engrossed in.

“Yeah,” you exhale, “I totally get the fear of open water.”

Hyunjin chuckles, strangely drawn in by the sound of your voice.

“Although, she doesn't seem all that scared to me,” you add, shifting your focus back to the canvas.

“You don't think so?”

“I mean, you could argue that she doesn't want to be there, that she's drowning,” you begin, pointing to the girl. “But…the longer I stare at it, the more I feel like she's just hanging there, not reaching for the surface on purpose.” Your finger trails down to the bottom right corner. “I think that's why it was named Buoyancy, at least that's what I got out of it…”

You trail off, realizing that you're rambling to a total stranger about a random piece of artwork. Looking back at him however, you find your face heating up at the amazed expression on his, as if you had just told him his middle name.

“I wish I had thought of that,” he lies. It was almost scary how quickly you had found the meaning he'd tried to convey after months of fighting with the paint.

“Well that's the fun thing about art,” you say, smiling to yourself. “It's all subjective. What were you thinking?”

Hyunjin opens his mouth to speak, then closes it again in mild frustration.

“I'm not…very good with English,” he says, defeated.

He would argue that he's not very good with any language, even his mother tongue.

Art was the only language he felt he could speak easily without hesitation. It was easy to throw himself into that with reckless abandon, because it was the only place where he truly felt understood.

“But I can still understand you,” he quickly amends, glad to see that spark behind your eyes again. He walks past you, stopping at the painting on your left. “What about this one?”

“This one has some really dramatic lighting, which makes me believe…”

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧

Evening sunlight filters in through the exhibit windows as you and Hyunjin examine an organically-shaped vase, admiring its handiwork.

“I’ve always wanted to try pottery but…I don’t really like the feeling of cold clay on my hands,” you chuckle, looking at the tall man next to you. He grins, scrutinizing his hands as he contemplates his answer. 

“People tell me I have good fingers- for clay,” he adds quickly, even though the meaning wasn't lost on you, and you fight back a smirk to appear unphased. “But I haven't found a good studio? Is that how you call it?”

“I wouldn't know, I've never been,” you say, walking to the next painting. Which happens to be where you both started.

“Wait, have we been through this whole gallery?” You quickly check your watch, confirming that you have been there for much longer than you had intended. Looking back at the stranger you have spent the evening with, you feel heat start to scatter across your face.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to take up so much of your ti-”

“I liked it,” he blurts, and you feel reassured as his face lights up with panic. “Talking. With you, I mean.” He looks just past you to the art on the wall, ears turning the slightest shade of red. “No one has ever said anything so beautiful about my art before.”

He watches as your face circles through several emotions, before settling on embarrassment. 

“You're…you're one of the artists? Which one is yours?” You say, trying to recall what you said about every art piece.

He nods toward the painting that had first caught your attention, the one that practically jumped out at you an hour ago.

“Hyunjin,” he says quietly, extending a hand toward you in a humble introduction, as if that same hand didn't produce the masterpiece in front of you. 

“Y/n,” you whisper, trying not to let your mouth hang open in awe. “And to think I was going to Google you later.”

“You were?” The light in his eyes was unmistakable.

“I always research artists that inspire me,” you admit, bashfully dropping his hand.

“I inspired you?”

You meet his eyes and you know then, the weight that your words carry.

To create is a desire that all artists cannot shake; it is what keeps the painter keep coming back to the blank canvas, the sculptor to the slab of clay. But when the process is finished, all they can hope is that someone will see it, and feel a fraction of what they felt whilst creating it. 

Moving someone to the point of giving them the desire to create, through their artwork, is a dream many artists never get to see come into fruition.

And maybe that's why Hyunjin stares at you now, wondering which lucky star is shining down on him now.

“Can I…” he pauses, hoping he's saying the line like how they do in the movies, “can I buy you a drink?”

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧

When people say studio apartment, this is what you wish they mean.

Floor-to-ceiling window walls on one side, where several canvases sit propped up against the city skyline, and an apartment on the other, with a cute kitchenette and loft bedroom that doesn't feel cramped. It's perfect for someone who needs enough space to think, without sacrificing their space to live.

You hear Hyunjin click the door shut behind you as you set your bag down on a chair, surveying the studio side of his residence.

Several canvases catch your eye.

You can't even blame him for attempting to paint it because with the view he has, you'd paint it every day. 

Different versions of the Seoul skyline are scattered across the room, each depicting a different time of day. Sunrise is leaning against the window. Midday is sitting on a canvas. Twilight is hanging up on the wall, and something akin to golden hour lays unfinished, perhaps even abandoned on the floor. You crouch in front of it to get a better look.

“That one is…not finished,” Hyunjin says from the kitchen, pouring two glasses of soju. You can feel his nervous gaze on you even with your back turned to him.

“It's beautiful,” you whisper, looking at the palette he used to mix the colors. An array of browns and yellows are smeared on the glass, which were no doubt used to put the buildings into the scene.

He doesn't say thank you; his face does that for him when he crouches next to you, cheekbones pink as he sets the soju glasses on the floor. 

“I can't get the colors right,” he sighs, staring at the painting in discontent. “It looks…dull.”

“Maybe you should try adding red instead of brown,” you suggest, picking up a palette knife. “May I?”

Hyunjin stares at you in bewilderment, before opening a tube of vermillion and squeezing a bit onto the palette. 

“I studied color theory for what felt like forever,” you chuckle, taking the knife and adding red to a few of his previous colors.

“I never went to art school,” he says, as if that makes him a lesser artist. You feel a twinge of jealousy at that statement, knowing that the man next to you was this skilled without coaching, before adding, “You didn't miss much. It killed my creativity.”

Hyunjin goes pale at that as you pass him a clean paintbrush and toss the palette knife aside.

“Did you get it back?” He asks, and when you tilt your head, he adds, “Your creativity?”

“It comes and goes.” Sometimes you wish you didn't stake your livelihood on your ability to create. Inspiration is always a welcome guest but it never stays for long, at least on your side of the ocean.

Watching him add your hues to the painting is like having inspiration fed right into your bloodstream. Immediately the painting comes to life, the reds of the sunset becoming visible at the whim of his paintbrush.

He stops for a minute to admire the changes, and turns to you for feedback, eyes twinkling with joy. Or maybe that's just the soju.

“It was beautiful before,” you say, tracing your finger along the side of the canvas, “but now it looks alive.”

“I love the way you talk,” Hyunjin says quietly after a moment of silence, and the bluntness of the compliment nearly has you choking on your soju. But he just looks at you, no hint of humor in his eyes, sitting entirely too close to your tipsy self, and you feel your body buzz with warmth.

“And I love the way you smile,” you whisper back, unable to look away as he sets down his paintbrush, trying to hide his contagious grin.

He turns back to you, and you wish for several things. You wish you didn't have a plane ticket taking you away from this place in a week. You wish that you had finished your glass of soju. You wish you could poke the mole under his eye, or the dimple in his cheek.

You wish that you were drunk enough to close the gap between you two without a second thought.

But when your foreheads touch, your phone buzzes, so you grin and chuckle to yourself.

“I…I think we've had too much to drink.”

He looks at you through hooded eyes and smiles again.

“Or not enough.” He counters.

You nod in agreement at that and pull back, mentally kicking yourself for losing the only chance at finding out what his smile tastes like. But it's probably better this way. You don't want to be remembered as the girl who sweet talked her way into his bed.

You're halfway to the sink with your glasses when he speaks up suddenly.

“I want to see you again.”

You set the dishes down before turning to face him, and you wish you had brought a change of clothes. And maybe an extra toothbrush.

“I don't want to finish it without you,” he says, nodding to the painting that he had moved to the easel.

“I can come back tomorrow morning,” you promise, trying not to sound too hopeful.

“I can make crepes.”

“I love crepes.”

He picks up your bag from the chair and brings it to you, hating how much it feels like he's rushing you out the door. 

“See you tomorrow, y/n.”

“Goodnight, Hyunjin.”

You leave the apartment and close the door behind you, but your feet don't advance down the hallway. Hyunjin's hand hovers over the locking mechanism, unable to click the deadbolt into place as he considers running after you.

Before you can talk yourself out of it, you spin around to knock on his door, only to find him throwing the door open and grinning in delight at the sight of you.

“It's past midnight, isn't it?”

His smile tastes like mint and chamomile tea.

[fl3shm4id3n]

ₜₕₑ Cₑₙₜₐᵤᵣ

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐬 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐮𝐫𝐬. 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐭, 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐬.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ᴄᴇɴᴛᴀᴜʀ! ᴊᴀᴋᴇ ꜱᴜʟʟʏ x ꜰᴇᴍ! ʜᴜᴍᴀɴ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

Tw: Smut, Monster fucking, size difference, sexual tension, nudity, skinny dipping, reader is describe to have wide hips and perky ass, masturbation, outdoor set, titty sucking, oral (f receiving), stomach bulge, kissing.

A/N: I'd like to hear some feed back on this, all feed back is appreciated

Masterlist

ʙᴇꜰᴏʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ɢᴏ ᴀɴʏ ꜰᴜʀᴛʜᴇʀ, ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴꜱꜰᴡ/ꜱᴍᴜᴛ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ, ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡɪꜱʜ ᴛᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʀᴇᴀᴅ, ꜱᴋᴇᴅᴀᴅᴅʟᴇ, ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡɪꜱʜ ᴛᴏ ᴘʀᴏᴄᴇᴇᴅ, ᴛʜᴇɴ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ʀɪꜱᴋ.

Mythology had always caught your interest, specially the being mentioned in the many stories and studies you've done. But a particular one has caught your eye. The Centaur. This mythical creature has fascinated you. The lore to it had you hooked. You always wondered how it was possible for a man and horse to be fused together. Who knows, it's only legends and myths that wouldn't be possible to scientifically prove. It was still fun to learn and read about them.

In your free time you'd be reading your book over and over, you never got tired of reading your book about myths and legends from around the world. That's what you were doing at the moment, reading the same myth again. You were in love with it, specially the pictures of the centaur. You couldn't help but wonder how handsome he was, probably to get you hooked on the story or just because who ever illustrated the book thought it would be a good idea.

Your reading was cut short when you had to go out into the forest to collect samples for the scientists. You put your book away, you got ready to go. You were a biologist, who studied all kinds of life human, animal, plants and the environment that they lived in. They needed you so that the others could get the proper samples they needed. When you done getting ready, you were sent off.

The woods seemed calm, and here you were. Collecting samples on your own. You were used to doing things alone. It made you focus and work faster, when you'd be with a group of colleagues it took much longer. You also felt a bit relaxed, listening to the forest as you did your work. You were too caught up in cutting plants and digging roots from the dirt, you got dirt under your nails for sure. You'd clean them later. You went a bit further into the woods, wanting to get more than enough samples for your team of scientists. They needed as much as possible so that each individual could study there fair share.

You were too busy on your work that you didn't even notice a thanator creeping by. Searching for something to eat. You had your back turned to it, you were on your knees, digging with your hands to get a root. Then you stopped, hearing a bush rattle, you stopped and got up quickly. Looking around, studying your surroundings. You saw nothing at first, but then you turned around slowly. You saw the black panther like creature, staring back at you. The creature liked its fangs, you gripped tightly onto your knife in hand. You weren't going to die without a fight.

Slowly, you began to walk backwards, looking at the creature in the eyes, this was something you were told when out in the woods, to never turn your back on a giant wild cat. So you walked slowly, trying to get the beast to leave you alone. But then you fell backwards, losing your balance due to a huge root sticking out of the ground. This gave the Thanator a sign that it'll eat you, without thinking twice. You got up and started running for your life. The Thanator hot on your tail.

You ran, as fast as you could. Thanks to your small body, you were able to slip though small spaces, giving you time to run as the creature struggled to get to you. While you ran, you did not turn back to look at the creature still after you. You didn't want to grow any more fear then what you were already feeling, so you ran and did not look back. You then spotted a clit, and heard a waterfall bellow, assuming there was a river or a pond bellow. So you jumped, the thanator had tried to get you with its claws, it scratched you right on the arm. But you fell down to the water.

The river was strong, taking you down with it with all it's force, you tried to hold onto something, but the water was too much. You was dragged down the river. You popped your head up to try and breath, but the water was pushing you further down. It took about almost fifteen minutes until you were dragged down a shallow end. You manage to crawl out into the wet dirt. You were breathing, as if you have never breath in your life. You were weak, wet and tired. You already felt the soreness hit you. You laid on your side, trying to catch your breath. Then you felt a sharp pain on your left bicep, seen the huge ugly scratch on it. That'll scar, hopefully it doesn't go infected. You just sighed, laying your head on the wet dirt that got on your face. Slowly closing your eyes in exhaustion. As your eyes began to heavy, you couldn't help but spot a figure walking towards you from the woods. You weren't able to have a proper look at it, you only saw a what seemed to be a man, but his lover body, was much bigger. You had closed your eyes completely passing out.

You had began to wake up some time later, who knows how long you've been out cold. It must have been a while since you saw how it was dark already. You were lying on your back, your clothes were still wet, but the ground was dried. You slowly sat up, groaning in pain, looking at your arm, you saw that there was a huge leaf wrapped around were your wound was. Moving your arm, you felt some sticking substance on your wound, you touched the leaf, gently lifting it so see what it was. It was thick green like paste, and the leaf kept the past from falling off your wound. "Don't touch it or else it won't heal properly." You heard a very masculine voice in front of you say.

Looking over to see who it was, you saw a man, he was no ordinary man, but a na'vi man. You've heard of the native's, how they're very tall and muscular, he was both. You also couldn't help how handsome he was. His eyes were a yellow color, similar to a tiger's. His nose was on of a cats, his cheeks bones were very visible and his hair was long, both sides of his head were shaved, but his hair was the longest with braids, feathers and beads on it. He was very handsome, you only got to see his chest and neck. He was wearing a beaded choker and some kind of band on his chest with a knife quiver. He was sitting across a fire he had build between you both.

"You're far from home kid." He said, going back to doing what he was doing. He was using his knife to cut something, that something sounded like as if he was cutting fruits. "You helped me... why?" you asked. Wondering why a native helped you? Normally they'd leave you to die or kill you themselves. "Because you needed it. I had the same experience as you. I was also chased by a thanator, except I didn't get wounded." He explained, interesting. You wanted to get a better view of him. So you began to sit up, slightly groaning by soreness on your body. You stretched your upper body, making your tense muscles relax. You were now sitting properly. "Well... Thank you, for helping me." You said to the man, who was still cutting a fruit. He simply nodded.

There was an awkward silence. You didn't know what to say or do, so you just kept quiet. You trialed down at him, seen how strong he looked. From his arms, chest and his abs. Man, he seemed as if he had put in the work into having that kind of body. The more you look, that was when you saw his lower body. Your eyes went wide, seen that he did not have a pair logs like a man. They where instead of a dire horse. His hooves looked strong, as if he could kick the life out of you. Looking over, slightly moving to see more, he had more than just four legs. He had a total of six legs. "What? Never seen a creature like me?" Jake asked, seen the look on your face, you looked like a fish gasping for water. "Not in person no.." you admitted.

This caught Jake's attention. "In person? So you've heard of my kind?" he asked, then he handed you a cut up fruit. It was a huge, it took up all of your hand. You took it from his hand, slightly touching his palms. "Thank you. I mean yeah. I've read myths and legends of the centaur. I just thought they were only myths..." you admitted, the man only chuckled. "Myths? That's a new one." He said, biting a piece of the sliced yovo fruit. "New one?" you asked him, wondering what he meant by that. "People that I've come across, often think that were were breed like this. That a horse and a na'vi had intimacy and that's why we are how we are." He explained. "Hm, I've read much word weirder things. But this takes the whole cake." You commented, making the man laugh. It made you blush a bit, you had made a very handsome horse man laugh.

"Well, It's only proper for me to introduce myself, my name is Jake Sully." He said, you tilted your head a bit. "Jake Sully? That's a very human name." You commented, eating a slice from the fruit, biting the squishy texture from the peal. Jake watched as you ate your fruit, you couldn't help but look at your mouth. Gently sucking on the peal, trying to drink it's nectar. He watched a little droplet of juice running down your chin, his eyes slightly dilated. He liked what he was seen, but he shook his head. "Hurry up and eat your fruit then go sleep. We have a long day tomorrow." He said, finishing his last slide of fruit, before lying on his side, getting comfortable. You only hummed, going back to laying down on the grass, getting comfortable as possible to go back to sleep. You can softly hear him snoring, he was fast asleep. You tried going back to sleep, closing your eyes, only listening to the small fire crackling and his soft snoring.

The next morning, you were woken up by Jake. He said that you needed to get going before the day ended. He was planning on taking you back to the lab. You got up from the ground and up on your feet, stretching your body, hearing few joints pop and your body was sore. From yesterday and because you were laying on the hard ground. You yawned softly, tears welled up in your eyes. You wiped them away, along with any kind of grim on your eyes. "Come on kid, let go." Jake said, as he turned off the fire with some water he carried in a bottle. You nodded. "Alright alright." You yawned again. Going over to him.

You were now walking with the centaur in the woods, side to side. He was quiet the whole time. You'd look up at him every now and then, seen how big he was compared to you. You knew that na'vi and dire horse were big. But not as big as he was. He was almost a giant. You just noticed that you had lost your small bag which held the samples that you needed, you sighed in annoyance, so you nearly got killed by a thanator for nothing. Well, you were helped by a very handsome horse man, you'd do it again just to see him.

The whole walk you'd stumble and fall sometimes, getting slightly hurt. It must be because you weren't very familiar with the woods. Jake could only watch you, struggling. He thought it was funny seen such a tiny human like you, falling. It was obvious that humans like you weren't experts in wondering around the forest. It was like watching a baby take it's first steps. He knew he needed to help you or else you'd be stuck here all day and night, so he had an idea.

"Take off your shoes." Jake said, making you turn to him as you dusted from leaves off your hair. "Hm? What?" you asked him. "Take off your shoes kid, I don't like repeating myself." He said to you. "Okay okay." You said, sitting on the floor, unlacing your shoes off. "Socks too." He said, watching you removing your shoes. You looked up at him confused, but you did anyway. Now you were barefooted. "Now what?" you asked him. You watched how he got down on six of his hooves. "Get on." He said, making your eyes widen by his sudden request. "You want me to get on you?" You asked, confused. "Yeah, if you continue to walk, we'll be stuck in the forest for days, now hop on." He said. You walked over to him, trying to find a way to get on him. He simply watched you, seen what you were doing.

Until finally, you finally got a hold of him, slightly jumping on him. Your right went up first, then you pulled yourself up to him. Now you were sitting on him, you got comfortable. Jake then got back up on his feet. "See, that wasn't hard now was it?" he asked with a little smirk on his face, making your face heat up. He then grabbed your small hands, placing them around his lower waist, so that you could hold onto him. You felt both his soft flat stomach under his belly bottom, touching were his abdomen should be and your arms brushed against his leathers corset like band. Your chest lightly pressed against his strong back. Your breasts softly touching his muscles, your nipples softly going erect in arousal. Once you were holding onto him, he began to walk again.

The whole ride, you couldn't help but feel all sorts of things. You were literally riding a centaur. The same creature that you have been fascinated by for years. Were you dreaming? Did you hit your head or something? You had so many thoughts in your head. You had been quiet the whole ride, and so was he. There wasn't anything you could talk about, you doubted that he wanted to learn about humans or what you did for a living. You laid your head on his back, avoiding his hair, sighing out of boredom. "What's on your mind kid?" he broke the silence. Making you lift your head from his back. "Oh, nothing. Just thinking." You responded, still holding onto him by the waist. He just hummed, walking on the path of dirt, leaving behind his hoof prints.

After a couple more hours of walking, you came to stop, near a river. He got down, allowing you to get off him. "I need to check your wound." He said, going over to the river with you on his side. He got down on legs, sitting down. Gesturing you to get close. Once close, he sat you down on your knees. He began to remove the leaf off your arm, the paste was dried. He reached over to the water, grabbing some on his hand and putting it on the paste, making it wet. Easily removing it. You watched as he worked, your eyes were focused on your wound at first then you turned to look at him, seen him focused on getting the paste off you. Now that the paste was fully gone, your wound showed. Three red huge scratch marks were on your skin. It looked a lot better. It might scar, but it could've been worst.

"It needs to breath." Jake commented, looking back at you in the eyes. Seen how you were staring back at him. You only nodded. "Right, yeah." You responded immediately. Jake slightly chuckled. He then got up from the floor, beginning to take off his chest band and his waist corset. "What are you doing?" you asked him. He placed his things on the floor. "I'm going for a dip, you can join if you want." He said. Once his stuff was off, he walked into the water, you watched how the bottom of his horse body began to disappear into the water, only up his waist showed. He turned around to look at you, still sitting on the dirt. Watching him with your mouth slightly open. He chuckled by the look on your face. He then turned back, going a bit deeper into the water, to get his whole body wet.

You just watched him, going more into the water, seen his blue skin disappearing in the clear water. Looking down at yourself, you saw the dirt on your skin and clothes. Maybe you did need a bath. So you got up from the ground, beginning to take off your brown shorts. Pulling them down to the floor, followed by your panties. Then came your shirt, you pulled it over your head, exposing your soft flesh to the air, your nipples quickly went erect. You touched the water with your foot first, feeling how cold it was, but once you were in the water, it'll feel warm. So you slowly began to walk into the water, covering your chest with your arms as you went further in. The cold water made you squeak, it was slowly consuming you. Finally you were in the water, reaching up to your neck, you shivered under water. "Changed your mind?" Jake asked, looking over at you. He had come out from the deeper end. His torso was on full display, water dripping from his toned blue body.

You only nodded. "Yeah, I figured a should get cleaned up a bit." You said to him, he couldn't help but grin, seen how flushed your face looked. "Alright." He said, turning back to cleaning himself. You only nodded and processed to do the same. You brushed off the dirt attached to your skin, making the water around you slightly brown because of the dirt. Your skin was much cleaner now. You then dipped your head into the water to get your hair and face wet. You didn't have a brush, so your fingers will do. You then began to step out of the water walking towards the river and back into the shore.

Jake had heard the water moving around him, he turned to see what it was. He watched you stepping out of the water, his eyes widen, seen your wet skin glowing in the sun light. As you had your back turned, busy squeezing the access water from your hair, he got a good view of your figure. He had a nice view, he watched how the droplets of water rolling down your back and behind the back of your thighs. He couldn't help but stare at your wide hips and perky ass. He knew that it was real, the way it jiggled and how your thighs were also as big. He also got a view your hip dips. You were like some kind of goddess in his eyes. God, he couldn't keep himself together. He felt his body beginning to heat up in the cold water, he felt his cock twitching under water.

He couldn't help but lick his bottom thin lip. He had wanted you the moment you had sat on him, and rode him him around. He could smell your arousal through your shorts, it was pretty strong. He took this as a sign that you wanted him as well. He wanted you, and he was going to have you.

You both decided to stay near the river for the night. It would take another day to get you back to the lab. You were a couple meters away, back in the forest. Jake had made another fire so that you and him could stay warm. You were still naked, you had washed your clothes, in attempt to get the mud and dirt off. Now it was sitting on a rock drying. At the moment you were eating some fish that were around the river, Jake had caught them easily with his hands. You both ate in silence, Jake had finished his fish while you kept on eating yours. It was bit to big to finish in a moment.

You had finally finished eating the huge thing. You felt a bit full, you saw the small food baby in your belly. You only licked the bones of the fish and your lips, getting any little rest of the fish. You sighed, placing the bones on the leaf used a plate. Then laid down, good thing you weren't wearing your shorts. "I see that you enjoyed it?" He asked you, watching you as you were lied down on the grass. Looking at your naked body, glowing by the light of the fire. Your skin looked very smooth. He looked at how your nipples stood up. He couldn't help but lick his bottom lip again. "Yeah, that was good. How did you learn to cook like that?" you asked him, sitting up, holding your weight on your elbows. Oblivious to the fact you are literally naked in front of the horse man.

"We're taught to survive in the woods, that means, hunting, fishing, cooking and you know." He listed, still looking at your body. Seen how your little blotted belly began to grow small. "Hm, Interesting." You said, laying back down on the soft ground. Eating that big fish had you feeling sleeping. You let out a soft yawn. "You should sleep now." Jake said towards you, who was already yawning and closing your eyes. Already falling asleep. Jake just chuckled, watching you slowly drifting into slumber.

A couple hours had passed, you slowly began to wake up. You hummed, stretching your body on the ground, then you felt your bladder about to explode. You had to use the bathroom. So you got up and went behind him bushes to do your business. A couple minutes after, you went back to the river to clean yourself between your legs. When done, you went back to where you were sleeping in, touching your clothes that hanged on branches, it was still damp. You weren't going to put damp clothes on. So you left them, looking over, you saw how Jake was gone.

You looked around, trying to see if you could find him, but he was nowhere near the small fire. "Jake?" you called out to him, nothing. "Jake!" you slightly shouted this time, still nothing. Looking down on his sleeping spot, you saw the footprints of his hooves, you decided to follow them. As you followed the prints, you could hear something. You stopped and listened closely. It sounded like breathing, harsh breathing and groaning. You listened closely, it sounded like Jake was making those noises.

The closer you got, the louder it got. You could here him cursing under his breath and you could hear some smacking happening. What was he doing? You thought to yourself. The closer you got, the more you heard. Jake let out a moan and a grunt. "Fuck!" he hissed. Was he okay? Was he hurt? You wondered, so you got closer. You moved some leaves away, then that was when you froze on the spot. Your eyes slightly widening, by the sight.

There was Jake. He was bucking his hips against the giant soft looking mushroom. His cock fully out and erect, his veins were pulsing around his shaft. Rubbing against the soft flat top on the giant fungi. He was relieving himself. This is something horses did. They'd either smack their cocks onto their stomachs or rub them on an object. He was clearly masturbating. Maybe it was to release stress? Or just because it was what horses did, but he wasn't just a horse, he was also a man.

Jake groaned, biting his bottom lip hard and his eyes were screwed shut. Sweat was building up on his forehead, droplets rolling down the side of his face to his neck. "Oh god kid!" he groaned, bucking his hips against the soft fungi. He had thought of you as he tried to relieve himself. He couldn't get you out of his head, he really wished that you'd be laying on this fungi allowing him to fuck you. He really wanted you. So bad, it almost hurt. Then he heard some noises, turning around, he saw you. Standing there with your eyes wide, looking at him trying to relieve himself.

"Please... help me.." he whined, still bucking his hips. "I need your help.." He hissed, gripping tightly onto the mushroom. You looked at him. "My help?" you asked, looking down back at his cock, still rubbing against the flat mushroom head. "Yes, please help me.. I need your help." He whined. You weren't sure whether to help him or not, you didn't know how you could help him. "Please, I beg you!" He groaned. You hated seen him in such pain, so you you decided to help him. It was the least you could do since he helped you. Slowly you walked forward. Now you stood in front of him, in a quick motion. He grabbed your small body and placed it on the mushroom.

Now you were laying on the fungi. Just like how he imagined. You laying here, naked underneath him. He got down on his legs, in a siting position. His body was above yours. Caging you with his huge arms around your head. "I've waited for this moment" he growled softly, before you could say anything, his lips crashed into your. His whole mouth, he was kissing you. It was a hard kiss, you felt his teeth and tongue trying devour you. It felt arousing in a way. You threw your arms over his head, trying to also kiss him back, but his kiss was hungry and needy. He really did want this.

When he pulled away, he went down to kiss your neck, gently kissing and licking every bit of skin he could. "Oh fuck!" he growled. Kissing and licking some more. "When we were at the river." He stopped, looking at your breasts, face to face with the soft flesh. "I just wanted to take you on the spot!" he then pushed his face onto your chest, kissing around your plush breasts, he then took one of his nipples into your mouth. Making you moan loudly, his right hand then came, taking your neglected breasts into his huge hand squeezing it as he sucked onto your nipple. "Mm! God this tits! I couldn't stop thinking what it was like to taste them!" you mentioned, pulling away, seen the small bit of spit covered nipple. He continued to admire your breasts, seen that you were breathing for air. Your face was flushed and your mouth was slightly open.

He then lowed down, he was now between your legs. He grabbed them and spread them wide. You couldn't help but whimper a bit, seen that your glistening folds were on full display. "You think I wouldn't notice how you looked at me? I smell you when you sat on me and rode me." He brought up, making you look at him, holding yourself up with your elbows. Seen the hungry look on his eyes, he was busy staring at your pink folds. Without a warning he buried his face between your legs. "Ahh!" you moaned loudly, throwing your back onto the soft fungi. You felt how his tongue licked your entire pussy. He began to suck onto your as his tongue thrusted into you. You brought the back of your hand up to your lip, gently biting it, as a form to hide your moans. He continued to suck and lick as if he had been starving for days. He was hitting every spot, causing you to jolt every now and then.

After a couple minutes, he had pulled away. His lips had your juices stuck to them. You laying on your back, your body shaking like crazy. You were close, but Jake had pulled away just. You felt energy draining from your body. "We're not done yet kid." He said, you saw the grin on his face, you knew that he was being serious. He let your legs go, but kept them spread, then he got up from the ground, moving up. His horse like body was now above you, his cock was as hard as a rock and his tip was leaking precum. Jake positioned his four upper legs right next either side of your small torso. His hind legs were carrying his whole body, but with the help of the flat fungi, he had enough support.

You held onto the upper body, softly digging your fingers onto his skin. Jake took this as a sign and pushed right in slowly. You gasped, digging your nails onto the flesh, feeling his huge tip began to thrust inside your tight hole. "Oh! You're tight!" he commented, holding onto a thick branch as he thrusted into you. Looking down, you saw the massive bulge in your belly. The stretching of your pussy slightly burned, but it felt so good, you were already clenching around him. Jake groaned, feeling your tight squishy walls gripping onto him. After you got slightly adjusted to his size, he slowly began to thrust into you, he didn't want to hurt you, so he went slowly.

Your body was on fire, just like before, he was hitting all your good spots, making your body shiver like crazy. The stretching of your legs also burned a bit, but you weren't focused on that. You were enjoying getting stretched by his massive tip. "You're enjoying this aren't you? I can feel you trying to milk me!" he growled, gripping tightly onto the branch as he continued to thrust into you. "I just want to keep you! For myself!" He moaned at each thrust. "Imagine!" he groaned as he thrusted a bit much faster, going further in. "You! As my little wife!" He growled. "You'll only be mine! And mine alone!" he bit onto his lip hard, he felt himself getting closer.

And so were you, you were close to reaching your climax. His tip was hitting your g-spot. You felt your body getting weaker and weaker by the minute. All that was heard was the sound of skin slapping and your moans of pleasure. Your nails were dogged in his skin and your legs were about to give out. You almost couldn't take it, you were so close to passing out too. "I'm! I'm!" Jake tried to say, but he couldn't, he just keep thrusting as if his life depended on it. He was hammering down your poor pussy. Without a warning, he had bucked his hips one final time and he came deep inside you.

You had let out a scream, as he came so did you. He stayed still, all six legs were shaking. He hadn't pulled out yet, he made sure that you took most of his seed. You were completely filled to the brim. You felt as if you were going to explode. After a few seconds, he slowly pulled away from you, making you whimper. His seed slowly poured out of you. Jake got down from you, he was now facing you down. Seen your sweat covered body and your body shivering like crazy. "How do you feel?" he asked you, wiping the sweat off his forehead. "..G-Good.." you whispered to him, with a small grin on your lips. Jake got down, kissing your lips softly. "That's good" he purred softly against his lips.

You both headed back to your so called little camp. You had gone to take care of business, as much as pain you were in, you still manage to walk over to the river. Jake was back, laying on his side waiting for you to come back. When you were back, you were slightly limping, which made Jake smirk by the sight. You manage to walk over to where was laying. He then pulled you close to him, nuzzling to you close. You wrapped your arms around his neck, cuddling close to him. It didn't take long for the two of you to go to sleep.

The next morning, you were sore like a bitch. Your whole body ached, specially your legs. Jake had to help you up. As much pain you were in, it was worth it. As you got your dried clothes from the branches, Jake put out the small fire. You stopped from putting your panties on, and looked over at him. "Did you mean what you said last night?" you asked. Then Jake turned to you, he had a bit of a shy look on his face. "I mean, yeah. I know I only met you in a day, but, I wish to start a life with you." He confessed, his cheeks turning a purple color. You couldn't help but smile. "I was wishing you'd say that" You said with a smile. You saw that happy look on his face. "Really?" He asked, you nodded. He was happy, you saw how his hoof tapped onto the ground.

You decided not to put on your clothes, you felt as if you weren't going to need them, so you just left them were they were. You walked over to Jake, he then leaned down, so that you could hop onto his horse back. Once on his back, he got up back on his hooves, going on his way back to his village with you as his now wife.

[7-wonders]

Literally, if Calliope held my face and gave the affection that’s described in World We Dream About, I would fucking die. All I can think about is how the reader could only wonder how Morpheus would ever separate himself from someone as tender, gentle, and utterly radiant as her-

(Read more of my Calliope/Morpheus/Reader stuff here!)

"Can I ask you something?"

You're sitting in the gardens of the palace of the Dreaming with the Lord of Dreams himself, who slowly looks up at you over the top of his book (some report on a nightmare doing who knows what) like you're a nuisance. You know that's not the case though, since he's the one that sought you out and invited you to join him.

After your...memorable first meeting with Morpheus, followed by a tearful goodbye with the woman goddess who had been your roommate for the past few months, you had never been expecting to see either again. They were important beings of myth and legend, after all—you were just a regular human. Practically nothing compared to them! That's why it was so surprising when you went to sleep barely a week later and found yourself face-to-face with the Sandman once more.

"I owe you a boon, whether you believe yourself worthy or not," he said. "And I imagine that you have many questions relating to the information you received that fateful night. Therefore, you may ask me your questions, and I shall do my best to answer them."

He was right, of course. You did have questions. So many of them that it almost made your head spin when you tried to think of the first one that you wanted to ask. But ask you did, and he dutifully answered each and every one of them.

It was definitely appreciated, and you felt that the conversation gave you a lot of answers and closure to this chapter of your life. In your mind, it was the end of a chapter. Calliope was gone, off to Greece and Mount Olympus and her sisters with no sign that you would ever see her again. Morpheus had deigned to meet with you once more, and now that his perceived obligation was fulfilled, you expected that to be the end of any sort of magic in your life.

But then you saw him again.

And again.

And again.

Now, you see him at least once a week. Each time, he comes to you in your dreams, and each time, he acts as though he's simply being charitable by offering Calliope's human friend some company. You know that's not the case, though. No, Morpheus will never admit it, but you think he's lonely. And now that you both have a shared person, that gives him a connection with someone...even if that someone is the mortal that his ex-wife found herself accidentally belonging to in what you can say in retrospect was a true comedy of errors.

"You just did," he points out cheekily.

You remain unamused and roll your eyes. "C'mon, you know what I mean."

He nods. "I do. Continue."

"Please don't answer if it makes you uncomfortable, but I'm curious. Why...why did you and Calliope break up?" How did you manage to so severely fumble the bag? is what you really want to ask. "I mean, she's Calliope."

What you mean by, "she's Calliope," is, of course, that she's Calliope. Beautiful and kind, wise and strong, charming and witty, and a whole dictionary's worth of other characteristics that can only hope to capture who she is. You had never met a person like her before, and you doubt you'll ever meet somebody like her again.

Most mortals wouldn't dare to speak to an Endless like you just did. Unfortunately, prior experience has made you bold, and you know now that Morpheus is begrudgingly fond of you and therefore won't smite you if you overstep. Somewhere along the way, you stopped feeling so wary of the Dreamlord. Now, you like to think that your relationship is something close to a sort of friendship.

(If you're being honest with yourself, lately your feelings for Morpheus are complicated, as are your feelings for Calliope. That's a conversation for another day, and it definitely does not factor into your current conversation, thank you very much.)

A small, small smile plays on his lips, Morpheus understanding exactly what you mean. "Yes, she is. We were both much younger in the days of our marriage, if one as young as yourself can believe such a thing."

You appreciate that he's trying to find a bit of humor in what is assuredly a heavy moment, so you smile encouragingly at him.

"Mistakes were made by both of us throughout the course of our relationship, myself more. Ultimately, it was..." Morpheus pauses, and when he speaks again, it's much quieter. "In the end, the loss of our son proved too much for us to overcome together."

Well, now you feel bad. Calliope had only talked to you about Orpheus a handful of times, but with what little information you have, you know just how loved he was by his parents, and just how devastated they still remain by what happened. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked."

He shakes his head. "When last we parted, Calliope suggested to me that it would be wise for us to talk about Or—our son together. That remembering him might help to be able to properly grieve." Morpheus says that last word like it's foreign to him. It probably is, actually. "I am starting to find that she is right."

"She's right a lot. It's kind of annoying," you commiserate.

This helps to break the heaviness that talking about death (not Death) and loss brings, and Morpheus lets out a breath in his version of a laugh. "She does tend to be right fairly often."

Now that your question is answered and you know that you didn't just ruin his day, you gesture towards his book. "Okay, I won't bother you anymore, promise."

"You are not nearly as bothersome as you believe yourself to be." He gets a look in his starry eyes when he says this, one that conveys there is much more being left unsaid within this single sentence.

His confession makes your chest feel warm, and you try not to act as pleased as you are. "I'll endeavor not to change that, then."

[hanafubukki]

Fairy Tales, History, and The Great Seven (+Chernabog)

An interesting bit that hasn’t left my mind is Lilia’s wording of fairy tales in book 7.

He spoke to Malleus’ egg, telling him that he wants him to hatch soon. How he didn’t want Malleus to become a hero to a dying or begone race essentially.

Especially since the Faes were being left behind as the humans advanced.

And we have seen how Faes have become history and then a fairy tale in some places in twisted wonderland, haven’t we?

And you know who else we were told was a fairy tale?

The Great Seven and Chernabog, which I find very interesting as they are using this specific wording on them. We know twisted wonderland history has been manipulated and this just adds onto that mystery.

Additionally, we also have the Disney 100 museum now too. Which, while yes, it’s celebrating 100 years. It can also be a clue and we know Yana and how she entwines her stories with tiny details.

So what if, they weren’t a fairy tale. What if they were much more than that?

What if, in time, they too became a part of history? And eventually, a fairy tale.

If you read Kallisto’s ( @prince-kallisto) theory about pocket dimensions and imaginations, it also adds onto this suspicion, doesn’t it.

We have been told repeatedly about history being warped, about the power of imagination, and now fairy tales.

It also is interesting that Chernabog has been brought up again, especially in such a context.

And then you look at this theory about the hand possibly being Maleficient’s

And I want to add, that before book 7, none of the Great Seven has ever been mentioned by name before in MC’s dreams.

It’s pretty interesting how out of everyone, it was Maleficent, one of the strongest and the one who is forgotten, whose name is mentioned.

A fae of exceptional power and abilities.

And you can’t help but wonder, are these great figures that are so greatly revered at NRC and the feared Chernabog, just a story? A fairy tale?

Or is there so much more? And they have simply been forgotten to time and labeled a myth?

But hasn’t it always been said?

There’s always some truth to myths and legends.

And if the fae who had almost become a fairy tale before can come back, can it not be said about these figures as well?

(Also, isn’t it interesting how Malleus mentions fairy tales and heroes before putting everyone to sleep?)

[amorgansgal]

Healing Touch - Part Two

It's taken me long enough, but here's part two of healing touch and let's just say things are getting a little steamy! Tagging these folks again @halsinsgate, @thepickledmermaid, @thoughts-of-bear and @embrulee just in case they would like to read. And for anyone new you can find part 1 here

Halsin x Female Single Mum Reader

The days and nights passed in a blur of sweaty exhaustion. Your very bones and marrow ached and your skin prickled with dull, irritating pain when your usually soft blanket touched it. But every time you awoke, Halsin was immediately at your side, helping you drink from a cup, washing away the sweat from your forehead or spooning broth into your mouth. 

Seth was doing his best to help too, but you struggled to stay awake when he read to you or mopped your brow - usually that meant having a wet cloth slapped rather haphazardly against your face! But you were glad he was happy to tell you what a nice time he was having playing out in the snow or helping Halsin prepare supper. 

During your brief moments of consciousness, you would watch them in the kitchen, Seth chatting away while Halsin smiled and chopped vegetables or both of them curled up by the fire, Seth by Halsin’s side as the druid read to your son from a large book of myths and legends. It warmed your heart to see them like that, but when Halsin felt your gaze on him he always got up and went over to you to see if there was anything you needed. But gods, the only thing you truly wanted was for that little moment of domestic happiness to be the true state of things. For a moment you could pretend that Halsin was your husband, that Seth was both your son, that this pretty little scene always happened each night and soon Halsin would come to your bed, hold you, bury his face in your hair and then press a gentle kiss to the back of your neck.

Finally the day came when you could sit up in bed and keep your eyes open. You smiled when Halsin came into the bedroom, after gently knocking on the door. ‘You’re looking better,’ he said. ‘Though I still think bed rest is in order.’ He lay his hand on your brow, testing your temperature once more.

‘I feel a little better, but I’m not sure if I have enough strength to manage even the short walk to the kitchen and back. My legs would probably tremble as much as a newborn fawn. Thank you for looking after us both.’ 

‘I am glad I could help,’ he said, he gently pushed the hair back from your face and his fingers lingered against your cheek. You wondered if this was something he usually did with his patients, but given you were enjoying the soft, warm caress, you decided not to question it further.

You glanced over to the open doorway, surprised to find that your son was not around, eagerly running into your bedroom to see how you were doing. Seth had been a very enthusiastic, if noisy, healer assistant to Halsin and it was sweet to see him carefully making his way from the kitchen to your room with a hot cup of tea sweetened with honey and Halsin watching his steady progress. 

‘Where’s-?’

‘Oh yes, Seth has gone to play with Johan.’ It was hardly a shocking matter, but Halsin looked rather bashful and quickly removed his hand from your face. The very small groan you let slip seemed to be noticed by him, if the way he rapidly raised his gaze back to your face was anything to go by, but he did not comment on it and you were grateful that he did not. How far gone were you, if just a small touch sent you mad with longing?

Halsin shook his head, rolled his shoulders back and coughed to clear his throat. ‘In any case, I was going to ask if you would perhaps care for a bath, given Seth would be away and I could help warming the water, carrying you to the tub and so forth.’

‘Yes, that would be good, I probably look rather horrific and sweaty and messy!’ you said with a quiet chuckle. Halsin smiled softly and shook his head. 

‘You could never look horrific or a mess.’

‘Ha! You never saw me trying to get my house in order with a wilful two year old who decided baths were not for him and who had got into the flour while I was distracted for all of a minute!’ 

He was looking at you so intently and with such a surprising amount of heartfelt gentleness that it almost made you look away, but you managed to keep your gaze on him. ‘I wish I had seen that, I wish I had been there for you both when Seth was younger.’

You managed a strange, wheezy choking sound and instantly felt mortified. ‘I… uh… well that would’ve been nice, but you weren’t, so… we were fine though and you were busy, very busy given the mindflyer stuff and tadpoles and the druid grove and stuff.’ Gods, was there any way you could get the ground to swallow you up? You sounded so ineloquent and foolish. Halsin must think you had lost all your wits along with your hygiene with that mangled sentence! But Halsin simply laughed.

‘I suppose that’s true, but I would’ve liked to have been by your side,’ he smiled softly, then suddenly got to his feet, the bed groaning a little in protest now his weight was gone from it. ‘But I have teased you enough with promises of a bath, so I will prepare it and let you know when it is done. Do you think you have enough strength in your legs to manage the walk or would you prefer I carry you to it?’

Really, honestly, you probably could’ve managed it. Maybe with some heavy leaning on the bedposts and doorways, you could reach the bathroom, but given your time with Halsin was likely coming to an end why not make the most of his company?

‘Would you mind carrying me? I’m afraid my legs are still a little shaky,’ you said, glancing up at him and then quickly looking away. You tried to make out you were more embarrassed by asking, but Halsin’s quiet ‘Hmm’ made you wonder if he doubted your story.

‘Of course,’ he said though, and you let out a sigh of relief. It was not as if he was injured or too tired to do so, and he surely wouldn’t have offered if he hadn’t meant it. He got up from the bed and headed out of the room.

You were surprised at how quickly Halsin returned, but then you remembered he wielded druidic magic and doubtless that had helped matters. He smiled and you pulled back the covers, so he could lift his work. A dizzying, overwhelming excitement buzzed through you as his right hand slipped under your legs and his left supported your back. Instinctively you wrapped your arms around his shoulders as he lifted you up easily. You really should have thought about this more as you now felt rather flustered by being so close to him. He was so warm and smelled… gods, what was wrong with you, you shouldn’t be trying to inhale his scent, but Halsin smelled good, a delicious earthy, herbal smell that put you in mind of pine trees or dried juniper berries with honey and musk.  

You shivered with delight on seeing the curling tendrils of steam that rose from the tub. Halsin placed the tub near the fireplace so you would stay warm, but you were already quite cosy in his arms as he carried you over. You bit your lip hard to stop any sound of disappointment being let slip once he put you down.

‘I’ll remake your bed and tidy up a little while you bathe, just give me a shout when you want me to take you to bed,’ Halsin said. Evidently the connotation of being ‘taken to bed’ was for a brief moment unapparent to Halsin and you let slip a foolish, nonsensical wheeze of laughter. He frowned and then it seemed to dawn on him what he had said. 

‘Sorry, that was childish of me-’ you muttered, half expecting Halsin to roll his eyes and leave you entirely. Gods, what was wrong with you? It had to be the flu still addling your mind. Though to your surprise Halsin smiled, with an almost devilish twinkle in his gaze.

‘Like I said, you call and I will return to your side and take you to bed,’ he said again, his eyes fixed on you, then briefly scanned down your form, before returning to your face. He looked pleased and the faintest hint of swirling gold appeared at the edges of his hazel eyes. It was all you could do to stop your mouth from falling open and gawking at him. Halsin chuckled softly and then walked back to the bedroom, leaving you with burning cheeks, your mouth a little dry and a strange whirling sensation in your stomach.

You quickly undressed, feeling acutely aware of Halsin’s presence just a few feet away in the bedroom, stripping your bed and tidying the room. When you were down to just your undergarments, a silly notion bubbled up that you could call him now, you could call him back and he could gaze upon you, could touch your bare skin, but you dismissed it quickly. What were you thinking? But then… he had outright encouraged the way you had interpreted his wording, so why shouldn’t you…? 

You caught sight of yourself in the glimmering reflection of the bathwater and that all but confirmed to you why you shouldn’t. Your plump belly and thighs were covered with the silvery weave of stretch marks, your hips set wider than you would’ve liked, your breasts hung low. Gods, what kind of dreamy, deluded fool were you? Why would Halsin find you remotely desirable? It had been a long time since anyone had courted you or suggested any amount of romantic interest in you.

You stepped into the bath and sunk down into the warm water. You washed your face and scrubbed every inch of your skin with a bar of soap Halsin had left on a nearby stool. It smelled of rosemary and it was certainly not your usual unperfumed plain bar of yellowish waxy soap that you would use. You relished the brief moment you got to truly relax and rest, the days’ smell of sickness and sweat cleaned away from your skin. 

Once you were done, you got up and grabbed a towel, quickly drying yourself off so you wouldn’t leave Halsin waiting in your room for long. You looked around for a new nightgown to wear and realised all too late that neither you nor Halsin had thought to bring a clean one for you to wear. Gods dammit! The linen towel was a little too short to comfortably wrap around you and if Halsin scooped you up again you would have a tough time holding onto it!

You hobbled over to the bedroom door, pressing your behind against the nearest wall so you would not accidentally let Halsin see anything! ‘Uh… Halsin?’ you called out, but before you could say anything else you heard his quick, lumbering stride and the door was yanked open. 

Evidently he was somewhat baffled that you were not anywhere near the bath as he looked around the room this way and that for you, but at last he spotted you. ‘I thought you needed my help?’ he asked gently.

‘I… well… it’s just… we didn’t bring a clean nightgown and… I…’

‘Oh, gods, my apologies. I’ll get one for you now-’

‘No, it’s alright, I can just go into the room and-’

As you both tried to squeeze in through the cottage’s small doorway, your towel became caught on both the door frame and Halsin’s leather jerkin! You tried to grab it quickly, but it had already slipped down your chest and Halsin had easily caught a glimpse of your heavy breasts, the nipples dark and hardening from the cold winter that slipped through the small crevices under the windows and doorway. 

You were both staring at one another, unmoving from the doorway and Halsin’s jaw looked like it was tightly clenched. Your cheeks were burning and you felt utterly horrified that he had seen what you looked like underneath. 

‘Sorry-’ you began, but he let out a soft growl and pulled you into the room, closing the door behind you both. He rested a large fist against it and for a brief, awful moment you thought he was angry with you. ‘Halsin-’

He whipped around and gazed at you with such unabashed, wanton longing that it made you outright tremble. ‘I cannot hide how I feel about you. I have always been fond of you and Seth, but this winter… the more I look at you, the more I burn for you. The more I wish to taste your skin, kiss you until you can scarcely breathe and love you in every way I can.’ He inhaled, a terrible, shaky breath that told you he was just barely holding onto the last slither of control. ‘Will you let me?’

‘Yes,’ you murmured and he did not let you speak another one, he pulled you close, almost making you lose the towel once more and then he kissed you, his hands easily cupping your face and the back of your head, fingers gripping your damp locks, and it proved almost impossible to not whimper at the warm pleasure coursing through you, making your skin tingle. He groaned your name against your lips.

[h2llish]

for your event: gn!reader x idia

prompt: black calla lily + "i honestly don’t even know who you could possibly be referring to.”

sorry if it's a bit vague and let me know if i forgot anything. i like this event, though! remember to take breaks '^'

✉ ─── 200 follower event ♡ idia shroud

prompt ─── black calla lily: reincarnation ─ to live again and again, to go through the motions of wanting and needing from the very beginning, it was exhausting. but it was easier when you had them in your life every new breath. it's unfortunate you're only the one who remembers the before. + "i honestly don't even know who you could possibly be referring to."

warnings ─ angst, romantic, pining, gender neutral, lowercase intended, open ending

reincarnation has always been seen as nothing more than myth. the idea of living life after life was quite ridiculous. there are people who choose to believe, the idea of living again comforting in it's own way. but then there were those who truly thought it nothing more than a story told in books and legends. ─ and you'd agree with them, if you hadn't experienced a new breath every moment you took your last.

you no longer remember a number to put down for the centuries you've lived ─ for the many times you've been reborn to a new family. you have experiened death a thousand times and you'd experience it a thousand more. you have fought wars not in history books and witnessed the birth of people who would go on to change the lives of many. you have bled out on the roots of a thriving tree, and suffered from plagues that broke your skin. you have lived and you have died for so long that you no longer had much to experience. you have lived through it all, and you will live through it again.

you once thought it to be a blessing ─ to try again at another life and remember it all. but after so many lives, the excitement of it wore off, and you wondered if it was perhaps a curse. if you had angered the universe in one of your lives ─ perhaps your first ─ and it cursed you to have to live all over again, to remember things that often tore you apart from the inside.

many would think such an experience ─ to be born again and again ─ would be exhausting. and it was, the moment you could remember the memories from old lives in every new birth, you would find yourself with the same feeling ─ the feeling of anguish to have to live through it all again.

but although you often loathed to be born anew ─ to have to relieve moments in which you'd find yourself at the receiving end of hard feelings ─ you also had fond memories of your past lives. memories that filled you with warmth even after so many years. memories you always hoped, and intended, to relive again and again.

the universe worked in odd ways ─ and the universe did not leave you to suffer its gift (blessing or curse) alone.

you don't quite remember your first lives, you've lived too many after all, but you know you've never been alone. your dear lover has always been there, you have searched for him again and again, in every life. you have been drawn to him since the moment you took your first breath as every new person. you have loved him in every life, and in every in between.

but you've always thought the universe cursed you ─ despite gifting you the only person who has lived as many lives as you ─ it has forced you to live through the same heartbreak of knowing he will never remember you from the life before.

you don't know why it has only ever been you, you who is the only who remembers every life that has come before the one you live now. you have loved him since your first life, but every new life you can only seek him out, grasp at him and hope he falls in love with you again, as you always have been. ─ he always has, the universe was cruel you deemed, but it did not leave you to pine for your lover for too long. and you hoped it would only continue ─ to live a life where he was not beside you would be the last of your joy in continuing again.

and you can only wish again that the universe will not choose to be cruel come next life, as you grasp the hand of your aging lover, fingers intertwined and holding him close to you. ─ death did not bother you, you have died too many times, but you grieved the loss of your lover, as you have done come every end. you will find him again, you have promised that same promise every life, and you've no intention of breaking it. you will find him, again and again.

"[name]?" you blinked, snapping your head to face the confused eyes of your peer, a clover near his eye and concern on his face.

"you were zoning out again." cater said, phone in his hand and looking at you with the same concern to match the clover beside him.

"sorry." you said, repitive, as you do it much too often ─ apologize for your thoughts running off from you, and taking you away from your present company.

trey smiled at you, that awkward smile he always seemed to have, "you're always zoning out. even in class."

"yeah," cater agreed, "makes you wonder how your grades are still so good."

if only they knew, that everything the college put in front of you, was everything you knew. you lived the history they taught you, and you've mastered the spells and potions they've introduced. you knew it all and more.

you forced a chuckle, "perhaps i'm just lucky."

your new person was fortunate to end up in night raven college, a prestigious maic academy, where you were now a freshman. ─ but lucky was not a word you'd use to describe yourself ─ you didn't much believe in luck, even if you had, it wouldn't be of much help. if luck truly had an effect, you must lack any for it to do anything, unlucky was most fitting.

and unlucky you were ─ after all, you found yourself pining for the reincarnation of your lover all over again. you knew where he was, you knew who he was, and yet, you found yourself unable to grow closer than a screen to look at and the sound of his voice. he was in a new body, but you knew it was him, you'd always know ─ but he did not.

the universe was cruel ─ but you still pleaded with it silently to help you reconnect with your lover all over again. it had been only a year since your new life has brought you to night raven college, since the pull of your soul has led you back to your lover who did not remember you. but you have only found yourself with so many glimpses of him, he was a closed off individual this life. you believe it to be what this reincarnation has done to him ─ you aren't sure what, but you can see it when you catch sight of him in the rare moments he leaves his room. he was withered and hurt, something has scarred him, and you can only wish to be there for him, to compensate for all the time that you were not before.

it was not easy, loving someone ─ it was a pain you had been through for far too many lifetimes. but you made a promise to always find him, and you intended to keep that promise for as many lifetimes as the universe puts you through.

─ even when it seemed as if he wanted nothing to do with you in your current lifetime.

"hi, [name]!"

you smiled at the boy who waited for you on the other side of the mirror to ignihyde's dorm, "hello, ortho." ─ the technomatic humanoid, ortho, you had come to know as idia's brother in his new life, had become a friend. he was quite different from idia ─ other than being made of technology ─ he was a lot more energetic and extroverted. he didn't hide away in his room and avoid people like your reincarnated lover.

"my brother is in his room! come with me!"

you had been paired with idia for a project nearing freshmen year, and you had come over to start and plan. ─ you did agree with idia the day before about it in class. (but you're not all that sure he was actively listening to anything you said.)

as ortho ledyou down ignihyde's halls and towards his brother's room, you followed ─ it had been many lifetimes, yet you always felt the same feelings of nerves that came with seeing your lover again.

"wait here!" ortho said, just before he called out to his brother through the door. "idia! [name] is here!"

you could just manage to hear his muffled response of, "who?" ─ and your chest tightened.

"[name]." ortho repeated, almost pouting now.

you should be used to it, after so many lives where he has forgotten, where you are the only one who remembers your past lives where you two would reunite and love again. but it is never easier to listen to him express his confusion about who you are. much like now ─

"i honestly don't even know who you could possibly be referring to."

─ you believe you could very well hear a crack in your never-dying soul, one of many after so many lifetimes of the same response.

you don't quite remember much of ortho's response, other than reminding idia that you were his partner on the end of freshman year project.

it always hurt more; despite so many times you've been through this. it always did, the pain of being forgotten by the only person who you had by your side every life, it was always worse every new beginning. and it was more unbearable the longer you stood at his door, listening to your lover express uninterest and confusion in who you are.

"they're waiting, idia! you agreed to work with them here!"

"ortho," you said, cutting him off before he could further try to push his brother into coming out of his room. you smiled at the robotic boy, "it's alright. i should've checked in beforehand. i don't wish to make him anymore uncomfortable. you have my number, don't you?" ─ a nod from ortho, and you continued, "give it to him and we can figure out another way to work on the project on his terms."

"are you sure?" ortho pouted; you have no doubt the boy could manage to convince idia to come out of his room, or at least send out his tablet, but you weren't sure you could handle that right now after experiencing the familiar feeling of rejection from him.

"of course." you nodded.

it was never easy to reunite with him every life ─ but you always had your promise you made to him many lives ago that kept you going.

idia didn't contact you until the next morning, and you only seen it after breakfast. he told you to meet him in the library after classes, where you'll work on the project together ─ you knew it would just be the tablet he sent everywhere so he didn't have to go in person, but that did nothing to stop your heart from beating quickly. even after so many years of loving him, he still had that effect on you.

you were the first to the library once classes ended, sitting somewhere in a corner near the entrance with your head down as you pulled out the supplies you needed for the project. you eventually stood to wander the aisles of the library, looking for books you think might help the project ─ although it was mostly for idia, who did not remember the topic of the project like you did.

you expected to return to the table to find idia's tablet looking for you ─ only to be caught by surprise as that wasn't the case at all.

with books in your hands, you stopped before you could completely leave the cover of the towering shelves. your body felt heavy as you stared at the entrance of the library with wide eyes. ─ it was not his tablet that waited in the library's doorway, but rather the reincarnation of your lover himself. blue hair flickering and eyes glancing around with such obvious anxiety, you felt terrible for being the reason he stood in a public space where other students loitered about.

you swallowed thickly, pushing the books up in your grip and approached, fighting back whatever nerves you had that came with seeing your lover (or, at least, his reincarnation) so closely. as you approached, he seemed to finally notice you, tensing up in a way that made you frown.

"hello, idia." you greeted upon reaching him, and nodded your head politely. ─ because while he was your lover in many lives before, right now, he was only a reincarnation who did not know such a thing about himself. and you've no intention of ever telling him ─ there was no guarantee he would ever believe you even if you did find yourself holding him as you have done in your past lives, and neither would he remember such a conversation. ─ you'd learn your lesson long ago, there was no point.

"uh, yeah, um, hey." anxious as he was, you found yourself fighting back a fond smile; you'd hate to scare him off the first time you actually managed to exchange conversation with him.

you gestured down at the books in your arms, "i found topics i believe would help us with our project, follow me and we can get started." you turned away, and began toward the table you'd taken in a corner, only sending a glance back at him to make sure he followed you.

perhaps you were getting ahead of yourself, but you surely hoped this gave way to a start of another life where you could have him by your side. ─ but for now, you suppose you should get through this school project.

"so this our tenth reincarnation?"

you hummed, running a hand through his hair that felt smooth against your fingers as you stared up at the stars from where you lay together against an old tree, "that's correct." he shifted in your grip, and you finally turned your attention towards him, meeting his eyes that held obvious confusion. you made an attempt not to get distracted and doze off into your thoughts as you stared at him ─ you had a habit of doing that.

"why can't i remember?"

you paused, "i don't know." you sighed, "it's been this way for all our past lives, including this one. i'd hoped telling you now might do something to help you remember me when we reincarnate again."

"and if it doesn't?" he asked again, and you found yourself at another pause.

if it didn't? well, you suppose you'd just have to keep loving him.

you smiled, "even if you don't remember, i promise i'll always find you."

notes ─── first request done! hope you like it ferris, mwah mwah.

do not repost, translate, copy or run my writing through an ai

[liridi]

Heyy, I'm starting to get interested in reading the Arthurian Legend/Story/Mith (?), and I was just wondering if you have any reccomendations on where to start with what books? I hope you have a nice day, Take care!

Oh thanks for the ask. I can only half answer this? I'm much better with my Greek myths. I've read a fair number of arthuriana texts but there are so many arthuriana blogs on here that faaar outmatch me with regards to the texts they've read.

I would personally start with Gawain and the Green Knight, I think it's a great entry point and one of the strongest texts in arthuriana. If you enjoy that one I think you're pretty much green lit to continue on.

Then it's a bit of a question what you want to do?

If you want an oversight of the "plot" of Arthuriana (ie. the rise and downfall of Camelot, from Arthur's conception to his death) you either want to start with the Vulgate Cycle (long but well written, the translation by Norris Lacy is recommended) or Le Morte D'Arthur by Sir Thomas Malory (based on the Vulgate Cycle, it's shorter but still long, and worse written, but definitely the basis for later/modern arthuriana). These are inaccesible bricks of reading material, I'm still slogging through Le Morte, two years later. But they're pretty much the bedrocks at the bottom of our modern arthuriana "canon" (no such thing but you know what I mean) so :///

If you want more readable later adaptations that cemented our modern arthuriana "canon", you either want Alfred Lord Tennyson's Idylls of the King or The Once and Future King by TH White.

If you want to keep reading short stories set in the Arthuriana world I recommend by personal favorite, the Wedding of Sir Gawain and Dame Ragnelle. I've also been highly recommended The Knight of the Cart by Chretien de Troyes, the introduction of Lancelot and his affair with Guinevere. Courtly love!!!

But here I defer to @queer-ragnelle they can definitely give you a better answer.

Good luck!

[lunarforager]

Who is Apollo?

Hello again, and welcome to another installment of "Introduction to the Hellenic Gods"! Today's deity is *drum roll* Apollo! He was the next alphabetically but Apollo is also another deity I have worked with myself and have a strong connection to.

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Apollo is the name given to the ancient Greek god of oracles, healing, archery, music and the arts, and light. The Roman equivalent of Apollo is also named Apollo (makes things easy).

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Apollo, unlike Aphrodite who we spoke of before, has one main birth myth.

The story actually begins with a Titaness named Asteria. Asteria, in an attempt to escape the god Zeus' advances, threw herself into the ocean. Where she entered the sea, a piece of disconnected land was created.

Later, when the goddess Leto was impregnated by Zeus, she was cursed by Zeus' scornful wife, Hera, to not be able to give birth on any piece of land or island. While searching for a place to give birth, Leto discovered this piece of disconnected land and gave birth to her two twins, Apollo and Artemis. This piece of land was then connected to the earth by Apollo himself and was named Delos. (For anyone wondering, yes I will be covering Artemis in this series very soon!)

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Apollo was also known by many different epithets throughout Greece and Rome. By far, the most common and most used of the epithets is Phoebus Apollo, translated roughly as Bright Apollo. This is most likely why Apollo is so heavily connected to and is seen as the god of light.

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Some interesting facts about Apollo you might not have known:

Apollo is also sometimes represented as the god of disease, and when praying to him, people would not pray for healing but instead would pray to be protected from the disease he was sending their way. This is actually seen in the first book of Homer's Iliad, where Apollo sends down a plague of arrows on the Achaeans for kidnapping the daughter of a priest of his.

Apollo wasn't always the god of the sun. This title actually belonged to Helios but over time the two were combined into one deity and/or Apollo was seen as the sun god while Helios was instead seen as the sun personified.

Apollo is a prime example of LGBTQ+ identities being present far before the start of the modern era as there are many myths and legends about the god being attracted to and being in relationships with people of the same sex such as his relationship with Hyacinthus or his relationship with Cyparissus.

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My favourite pieces of art and literature that depict Apollo!:

Apollo Belvedere by Leochares --> This statue depicts Apollo and is a copy of the original bronze statue. It is currently held in the Vatican

The Iliad by Homer --> In Book 1 of this epic, the god Apollo sends down a plague on the Achaean soldiers for kidnapping the daughter of a priest of his

Kylix of Apollo --> This piece of traditional Greek pottery depicts the god Apollo sitting on a chair pouring out wine and holding the instrument most connected with him, the lyre

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Thank you all so much for the support so far on this blog! I apologize for such a late update but I was super busy today hanging out with some friends I haven't seen in such a long time and spending much needed time with my partner! I thank Aphrodite for giving me such a lovely partner who is willing to spend hundreds of dollars on Florence + the Machine posters for me lol!

[weird-addiction]

Dragon Factory

Pairing: House of the Dragon x Male!Reader, Platonic!Aemond Targaryen x Male!Reader

Genre: Neutral

Warnings: Descriptions of dragon death, mentions of gore, dismembered dragon, mentions of bones poking out of skin, mentions of illegal things and drugs, dragon organs and bones, Manipulation.

A/n: Based off the song Rainbow Factory

Have you ever wondered where or rather what happens to dragons when they die? Well, no one ever has wondered, the Valyrians were just happy enough to even have dragons. Since the beasts have lived longer for hundreds of years, they have never thought about what happened to them in the afterlife.

Well, let’s just say a dragon’s tale is not as nice as one may make it seem. 

Let’s delve deeper into dragon philosophy, far beyond that of Old Valyrian’s mythology. The people of Westeros very easily judged the Targaryens as being gods and lived comfortably within their homeland. There is a dark story to every fairytale after all.

Within the eastern parts of the unknown world, there is a place so well built that it looks like it fell out of the heavens. Fog, mist that surrounds the area looks like clouds that came from the stars. 

It was said that in those very halls, the dragons are built, made and put into their eggs. This is where the first true dragons made their appearances. 

Within the stories and myths that have been lost to time, the myth originated before the doom happened, and so after, the legend has died out with the new generations of House Targaryen, Velayron and Celtigar. 

The legends that were told for years, it is as it says below. 

‘Once a dragon dies,

It’s collected by their creator.

Taken apart,

The same way it was born.

It shall be renewed, remade, reborn.’

Since the reign and conquest of Aegon the Conqueror, when Meraxes and Queen Rhaenys both were shot down in Dorne, the Dornish reported that when they went to collect and tow the body of the dragon. The corpse was not whole, there were many parts already missing.

They suspected some people wanted a part of the dragon as an artifact, that rumor was believable until they realized and saw the entire wing that was missing from its left side. 

The eyes, the left wing, half of its teeth, scales of different parts, bones that were cut out from under its flesh, were all missing. However, one thing was for sure, the flesh that was torn seemed to be cut with precision. The person that did it, knew what they were doing and have been doing it for a long time. The wing that was torn off left no traces except for the bone that was poking as it was snapped off. 

And since then, that is still one of the biggest mysteries of the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros. 

The current princess of the realm, Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen sat in Godswood under the same maple tree, with one of her friends in court next to her. Y/n L/n of the mysterious house L/n, he stood next to her leaning against the tree. 

The princess has just finished reading a story from the book of mythologies, Rhaenyra then turned towards him with a smile on her face. 

“What about you?” She asked, the book was still in her lap.

“Pardon princess?” Y/n spoke back, with confusion in his tone.

“What do you think happens to dragons after they die?” Her smile did not leave her face, features full of curiosity. 

Y/n thought through it for a moment before speaking again. “I am not the one with dragons princess, I do not know what happens to them.” 

“You must at least have thought of it before. I mean, the great Targaryen’s dragons, what happens to such great beasts after they die and rot away.” Rhaenyra’s words imply that she did indeed want an answer. 

“I am just an assassin that works for the council, I do not know of such things.” Y/n responded, his own smile stretching out on his lips.

“Oh please, you are anything but.” Rhaenyra stood up and licked arms with him. “You are anything but ‘just an assassin’.” 

“Rhaenyra we shouldn’t…link arms.”

“Why’s that?”

“I am not your betrothed.”

“But you are my friend.”

Y/n let out a sigh as they began to walk through the halls, Y/n was just an assassin that Viserys hired to take out anything to shut down anything that didn’t need Viserys to have dragons burn anything down.

No one knew of his origins, his house was a mystery to the court and council, but they wanted him regardless as his skills were very valuable. 

That night, Viserys has told Y/n of something going on in the city, so Y/n went to check it out in case it threatened the crown in any way. When Y/n got to Flea Bottom, finding the source of the problem which was just someone selling illegal artifacts and drugs. Realizing it was such a small problem, Y/n let them go, because if he did get that one man arrested, he might as well have the gold cloaks and arrest everyone that lived in Flea Bottom.

By the time he was walking to return to the Red Keep, he stopped by the dragon pit and checked on the dragons. Making sure no dragon was dying, or any of the eggs were not going to hatch. The dragon keepers had already left, going to the room where most of the eggs were kept in incubators. As soon as he stepped foot in there, he sensed something was wrong.

One of the eggs was not going to hatch, opening the incubator and taking out the egg. The egg was covered in silver colored scales, because it was in the incubator it should have been warm. But the egg was cold, not a sense of warmth as he held it in his hands. 

“Don’t worry. You will not be wasted.” Y/n mumbled to himself, his eyes not leaving the egg. Tucking it into his coat, carrying it back with him as he returned to his rooms through the secret passageways.

The next morning, he went to Viserys to ask for leave for a couple of days. The king agreed, it was not the first time that Y/n had done this.

“Again? Alright. Be safe Y/n.” 

“Of course, Your Grace.” He bowed before leaving the king’s rooms.

The dragon egg tucked into his coat as he walked to the gates, a horse that was already there for him. Mounting his steed with ease as the guards opened the gates. He rode east for days until he finally arrived at the ports to the Narrow Sea. 

This will be the last time he will ever step foot in the Crownlands known as the assassin within the king’s council, the next time he sees the Red Keep would be years from now. 

Once he docked on the easter lands, he managed to buy another horse and ride even more east. He arrived at his destination after months of travel. 

His palace was still as good as new. 

Y/n had managed to keep it hidden for all these years, doing what he was put into this world to do, remaking the dragons. When he saw the egg that went cold, Y/n made a decision; to raise the dragon as his own. In the future, it would be easier to collect parts and make transporting so much easier. 

His palace has been here even before Old Valyria had risen to power, Y/n was immortal just like the dragons that he remade and have been reborn again and again. 

Getting right to work as he got inside, the servants taking care of his horse and other needs. Cracking open the egg as saw the baby dragon that has already died, by the looks of it the wings weren’t even formed right.

Replacing the wings was the first part, taking the bones of bigger wings of others that had collected over the years, crafting them into a new pair of baby wings. Using the fire to merge the bones together. The wings were mended into its back rather than the front legs, as the original dragons had them like that instead. Everything else about the dragon was fine, but it did not have a heartbeat. 

Taking a jar off the shelf, the jar contained hearts of dragons that if anyone ever saw it, they would run and never look back. Pulling out a small one and putting it inside the one that just came out of the egg. 

The procedure was over rather quickly, Y/n’s hands were now covered in blood. 

Now he just had to get it into a new egg and put it into another incubator and wait for it to hatch. 

It only took three months before the dragon finally hatched, forming a bond with Y/n as it saw its creator for the first time. 

For the next ten years he raised the dragon on his own, the dragon he named Vallath. And that is when he returned to Westeros to see if he could collect anything else, while the people within the workshop of his palace will continue to make new dragons for years to come. 

When he was flying west, he flew over Pentos and felt like something was off. Y/n told Vallath to fly lower and settle down a good distance away from the source of the problem.

 Y/n snuck into the fortress and followed his instincts of where he felt the dying dragon, it led him into a room where there was a fireplace and a dragon egg leaned against the metal bars in front of the fire. He could tell the dragon within had not yet died, picking it up with urgency, he quickly left the room and snuck back out unnoticed.

Getting back to Vallath as he urged the beast to fly, Y/n realized his dragon had sensed another, or even multiple more dragons in the same area.

“What is it boy?” The dragon growled back, turning his head to point to where he was staring at earlier. 

A big green dragon flying in the distant skies, Y/n’s eyes narrowed as he knew who that dragon was. 

“Vhagar. Queen Visenya’s dragon, now claimed by the Lady Laena of house Velayron. As I have heard of course. “Worry not, ignore her and let’s go.” Patting his dragon’s neck as he got onto Vallath’s back.

Taking off once again, this time fully back to King’s Landing.

Y/n landed further away from the city to hide Vallath from the smallfolk’s eyes, he landed near the dragon pit to check on the dragons. Just for old times sake. 

When he entered the giant dome of a building, he saw some kids getting taught by the keepers while a dragon walked towards them. The dragon was small, barely able to fly or even carry anyone on their back. 

One of the keepers saw him and came over and talked with, fortunately, he knew High Valyrian well. He was around when the language was first created after all.

Y/n told the dragon keeper to tell Viserys he was back, the king would know who he is. The dragon keeper nodded and left to get the guards outside. Y/n stayed in the shadows and watched as the kids trained with the young dragon, soon their lesson concluded and the keeper left them.

He then saw they brought out a pig, three of the kids left and one was left. And by the looks of it, he was going down into the place where the dragon rested. This could mean a death sentence, so he followed quickly to make sure nothing stupid happened. 

Down into the tunnels, he saw fire lighting up the rocky tunnels up ahead, he walked fast to see what was happening. And there he saw it, the dragon Dreamfyre blowing out fire upwards as a threat. The kid he still did not know the name of, fell over in fear and turned to run. Y/n went over and pushed the kid behind him, while holding out a hand as he calmed Dreamfyre. 

Grabbing the smaller figure and getting out from the underground. The child did not struggle against him, but just went along with him.

“What were you thinking?” Y/n whispered yelled to him.

“I just wanted a dragon.” 

He could barely hear the words, but he did, and Y/n looked at him with confusion. 

“You do not have one? Well, that’s odd. But, not every Targaryen was a dragon rider, you know.” Y/n shrugged his shoulders.

“All my siblings have one! Even my nephews do! I am the only Targaryen with no dragon.” The older paused for a second as he let go of the child.

“What’s your name, boy?” 

“Aemond Targaryen.”

“Your parents?” 

“I am the second son of Viserys Targaryen and Alicent Hightower.” 

Y/n had to process what in the seven rings of hell he just heard. “I’m sorry. What?!” 

Aemond was taken back by this strange man, he had never even seen him in court or anywhere in the council before. 

“Alicent married. Viserys. What in the fuck happened while I was gone.” 

Aemond just looked and stood there confused.

—---------

Y/n went to the familiar rooms of the king, last time he was here was ten years ago. The guard yelled out his name, announcing his arrival to whoever was inside.

“Viserys?” The king before him was too different from how he remembered him last. 

“Y/n? Oh, Y/n. How good it is to have you back.”

Y/n was at a loss for words, Viserys was pretty already dying in front of him. His hairs are already falling out and his face has sunken to show his bones almost.

“Are you going to inform me of what happened when I was away?” 

Viserys nodded and began to explain, at the end he paused before asking the younger of where he went for ten years. “You said you had to leave for a few days. Then, next thing you were gone for ten years.”

“Yes…sorry about that..” Y/n’s voice was quiet, Viserys almost didn’t hear him.

The king wanted to know where he had been, but the other only responded with “Don’t worry about it.” With a smile at the end.

That night, the king threw a feast for having Y/n back at court. Everyone was seated at the long table as Y/n walked in, what caught everyone’s attention was the choice of clothing he wore that night. 

His robes were made of dragon scales and skin, they shimmered in the lighting of the hall. The different colors of the skins, the dark ones and bright ones contrasting each other, made him look like an actual dragon; and not just metaphorically. Around his neck, it sat a silver dragon necklace, an actual dragon that curled around him. 

He got to the table and sat down, he sat next to Alicent who was now a lot older, while on his other side were her children. Soon the feast began, Y/n made small conversation with Alicent. It did not take him long to know that Alicent was trying to get on his good side and have him side with Aegon being the future king.

What she did not know was that Y/n could care less about even being here, he did not care about who was king. As long as there were dragon parts for him to collect as they died, he would stay and do his job.

During the dinner, Aemond kept looking over at him, Y/n noticed this and it was quite obvious that the young prince wanted something. 

“My husband told me you have been away from court for ten years. Why is that?” Alicent asked.

“Oh, it is nothing, Your Grace. The matter was originally small, but turned into something bigger that I could not return for years.” Y/n lied right through his teeth, but the queen believed him regardless.

From across the table, he saw Rhaenyra sitting with her own children and husband; Laenor Velayron. When he was still at court, Rhaenyra had a thing for her own uncle he was sure, considering the fact the inbreeding and incest within the Targaryens don’t surprise him anymore. But another thing he had heard was that Laenor was interested in men instead of women, so how he had children with Rhaenyra was a mystery to him.

The feast went well, nothing happened, during it many people came up and asked him where he got the robes he was wearing. Y/n lied again saying it was just collected from the dragons when he was in King’s Landing, then explaining that the dragon skins were fake and made by seamstresses that he requested from his journey east. After a couple of hours, most of the guests have already started to leave. Y/n returned to his own chambers but he did not prepare to go to bed, but instead he put on his assassin clothing that had changed so no one would recognize him.

Sneaking out with the secret passageways, he made his way into the Dragon Pit again to look for parts. Luckily, there was a dragon that seemed to have died a while ago but no one noticed, it was a young dragon that had died to unknown causes. The dragon was alright in size, certainly big enough to collect the parts from and put them to good use.

Setting the bag he had brought with him to the side, he brought out a tool to start cutting away with the dragon’s parts. First came the inspecting to see if they were still worth something. 

“Eyes. Good enough to be reused, take those. Wings, big enough to develop fully if reborn into another. Horns and spikes…already decaying and too small to be of any use, leave those. Legs, strong and have potential to be fully grown with muscle and tissue. Skin and scales can be harvested for other uses. ” Y/n concluded after the inspection of the outside of the dragon, the organs and bones will have to wait until he cuts into it fully.

Taking out his tool, which was just a more powerful dagger, Y/n began to slice away at the different parts.

First it was the wings. Holding the wing still as he cut into the base of the bone, slicing through the bone like a hot knife through butter. At the end of the cutting it managed to get stuck, so Y/n pulled it off with his own strength, some of the skin came off with it. Then he did the same thing with the other wing, the second wing came off easier than the first one. The wings were in the bag so as to not get them dirty or lost.

Second was the legs, they took a bit more time but it was no problem. The legs came off just as easily, but it took a lot more effort to cut them through the bone as the back leg bones are formed to be stronger by default. Third was the eyes, they needed a bit more precision but nothing that Y/n has not done before. He just needed to be careful of some of the nerves, and then cut around and dismember the right ones and get it out with no other damage. 

Lastly, it was the skin and scales, it was basically skinning the dragon itself. The procedure required a bit more precision. He started at the wing area where the skin was already coming off, putting the dagger flatly under the hard skin and slicing through it making it come off easily. Piece by piece, the skin and scales along with it came off. Soon, the once dragon was now just a body of flesh, some of the bones in the body were now almost visible through the skin. The skull no longer held any resemblance to a dragon, other than the horns, the skull was completely stripped of its scales. The eye sockets hollow with nothing to fill it.

As Y/n cleaned up and put the parts he had cut into the bag he had brought with him, around the corner he heard a noise. Turning to see what had made such sounds, the corner of his eyes had caught a glimpse of silver-blonde hair in the dark. Taking the bag with him and swinging it over his shoulder, he turned the corner and saw a young prince. It was none other than the prince Aemond. 

“What. Are you doing here?” His words held slight venom, as his tone was annoyed that someone had found him doing his work.

“...” The prince did not dare speak, the violet eyes avoided the e/c ones that were narrowed and glaring burning holes into him.

“Speak!” This made Aemond flinch, but finally he managed to find his voice and speak out.

“I-I followed you here…and since it was the Dragon Pit I thought….” He trailed off. This only made Y/n even more annoyed. 

“What? What is it? You think I need protection? Is that it?” His glare did not stop but his voice had turned softer. 

Aemond could only stay quiet again, but really, he had nothing he could say anyway. 

“If that is the case then you have been proven wrong, as I am unharmed in front of your eyes. Now prince, let’s get you back to your chambers before someone finds you gone at this hour.” Y/n began to walk away and the young prince followed behind him.

Going through the same passageways that he came from, Y/n managed to sneak back to his rooms and without being noticed. Aemond however did not leave him alone, instead the young prince followed the older to his chambers instead. Y/n of course noticed this, but no matter how much he tried to get Aemond to go back to his room the younger continued to follow him, so he gave up in the end and let him follow him back. 

Once he got back, the bag was set on the ground as he opened it and reviewed what he gathered. That was when the young Targaryen spoke up about something.

“Why do you collect the parts of dragons?” Y/n’s movements stopped as turned around to look at Aemond. 

“Why do you need to know about that, young prince? And even if I told you, how would you take the information?” Y/n tilted his head in a playful way, as if teasing Aemond to speak again.

“I will not tell anyone of what you have done, what you do with the dragons will not be known.” Aemond said simply. 

The words were simple yes, but they also implied that Aemond might attempt to blackmail him if he did not tell him what he wanted to know. But Y/n knew better, behind the violet eyes that claimed to want nothing but to know what he was doing the dragon parts, there was something else there as well. A small glint of desire. Aemond wanted something from him. 

“Oh. I see. You want something from me.” Y/n paused for a second as he smiled. “And considering the fact that you have been eyeing the bag I have carried with me, you are interested in my work, no? Go ahead, tell me what you want. Then maybe I will not kill you for knowing my work.” Half of that was a lie, Y/n was not going to actually kill Aemond, just hurt him enough to make sure he never spilled.

“I..I want a dragon, I am the only one that is without a dragon…” Aemond’s voice became more soft, as if already becoming afraid; which was fair considering what he had seen that night already. 

Y/n let out a laugh as he heard the request, going back to the bag and looking over what he had collected. A smile made its way onto his face, perhaps this was a good thing for him after all. Maybe, he could be of use to him.

“A dragon you say? What do you think I do, young prince?” Playfulness laced within his voice.

Aemond took a breath before speaking. “I..I have heard the legend of what happens to a dragon when they die, they get collected by their creator and get remade…” He looked down, in his head to himself he sounded ridiculous to even believe such a legend.

“That. That legend is from the tales of Old Valyria, or rather, beyond that. Most Valyrians knew it, but it soon faded with time. You truly believe in this legend, Aemond?” He needed to know, not many believed in Y/n when he told them who actually was.

“Would it be weird if I say I did..?” 

Moving a hand to pet the top of Aemond’s hair, ruffling it slightly. His eyes softened, seeing the younger like this reminded him of himself a bit. “No, it’s not.” Getting down to Aemond’s level, his eyes shining through the darkness of the room. 

“Tell me. What do I get if I give you this dragon?”

Aemond’s eyes snapped up, realizing the older had accepted his request. “I will not tell anyone what you have done! A-and I will help you with collecting the parts…” He sounded unsure of that last one, but in the heat of the moment he said it anyway.

“You have a deal, prince. But, I do have my own conditions that you must agree to as well.” 

“Anything. Anything to have a dragon to myself!” Aemond replied eagerly. 

“I want your loyalty. Not only that, but I also want you to follow my orders. When I choose to leave Westeros, you will follow. I tell you to defy someone at court, your mother, your father, even your grandfather, you do it. If you can not agree to those, forget about the dragon.” Y/n listed his conditions clearly. 

“I…” Thinking it over, Aemond was not sure he had it in him to do such things. He stood by his mother throughout these years, his loyalty to his family was what he held onto. Now, can he really throw it all away just because he wants a dragon? 

“I do not have much time for you to think this over, if you truly want this dragon then I have to get to work immediately. The conditions in Westeros are not the same as back at my home, these dragon parts will begin to rot in three days' time. Seeing that these came from a dragon that died quite recently, which is odd but convenient nonetheless. So, do you agree to my terms or not?” Y/n was getting annoyed and somewhat irritated.

“Yes, I do.” 

Y/n held out his hand for Aemond to shake, and when the prince did, the deal was finally sealed. “Welcome to my family, Prince Aemond.” 

Over the next couple of days, other than his duties to the court, he would disappear to his rooms and work on the dragon. The body was completed first and then the skin and scales, the body was newly made with the parts that he collected. He brought parts with him back from his factory just in case. Using a special thread that had been the routine for hundreds of years, stitching the parts together on the new dragon body. Soon, the dragon itself was fully constructed. 

The second part was the egg, well, it really was no problem. The dragon egg that he got from Pentos, that is the egg he will use.

Cracking the egg open and taking out the dead dragon from within, then putting the new dragon inside. Finally, taking the broken pieces of the egg and sewing it back, the thread worked its magic to make it seem like nothing was ever out of place or broken.

The dragon egg along with the beast inside was finally complete, but now to give it to Aemond, which meant Viserys and Alicent needed to know that he finally got a dragon.

Walking to the king’s chambers and knocking on the doors gently, he was let in by Viserys saying ‘enter’ from the other side. 

“Your grace, I have come bearing a gift for your son.” Y/n stated, standing tall.

Viserys looked over from his model of Old Valyria, confusion and curiosity written all over. “For Aegon?” 

“No your grace, for Aemond.” Viserys nodded as he put down his tools that were sculpting a small model.

“What is a gift that you must come to me first and not give it straight to my son?” The king questioned.

“It is a rather important gift. I have heard that Prince Aemond is the only one without a dragon?” Y/n changed his tone as he acted like he did not know. Viserys nodded sadly, knowing this to be true.

Showing him the dragon egg, Viserys’ eyes widened slightly seeing such a present. “Where did you..get this?” 

“On my way back from my journey, I found one in the sands, buried. I picked it up to see if it would hatch when I brought it back to the Dragon Pit. It had been incubating for a few days, and showed good signs of hatching.” He paused for a second to catch his breath.

“So, I wish to give it to prince Aemond.” 

“This is a most wonderful gift! Thank you Y/n, I shall give it to him.” Viserys spoke with a full smile on his lips. The king took the egg with a smile.

Y/n left the room, as he did he heard Viserys tell one of his guards to go get Aemond. 

As night fell upon King’s Landing, Aemond went to look for Y/n in his chambers. He knocked and when heard the permission to come in he opened the doors, seeing Y/n on his bed and he seemed to be reading. 

“What is it that you need from me at this hour, Aemond? Can it not wait till to-morrow?” Y/n’s eyes did not move away from the text he was reading.

“I just came to thank you, my father gave me the dragon egg today. Even though I already knew it was you, I still could not help but be excited.” 

An unexpected smile came to Y/n’s lips. “As long as you do not go back on what you have promised me, you and your dragon will be safe under my protection.”

Aemond smiled in return.

Peace did not last forever. Another six years went by in the blink of an eye, and Aemond grew up and now has matured more than anyone else. He was taller than all of his siblings, and even just slightly over Y/n as well.

His dragon has also grown with him, the dragon whom he named Stormfury. The dragon had a grey colored body and had darker scales at his head, its wings were bigger and more powerful than the others. So big that he could not be kept in the Dragon Pit, instead it lived on the outskirts of the city.

Rhaenyra had returned to court and yet she left on the same night. Y/n could care less, there were less dragons dying so there was little to no work for him. But soon, things went from bad to worse.

Viserys passed away in his sleep, and the only people that knew were his small council and Alicent. The greens got Aegon on the throne, crowning him in front of the masses. Making sure everyone knew he was the new monarch. During the crowning, Aemond stood next to his sister, standing there and bowing slightly when Aegon looked towards him. 

Y/n watched on from the shadows, eyeing Aemond with a dark glint within his e/c eyes. He knew a war was brewing on the horizon, it was a matter of time the Dance of the Dragons started.

That night he had overheard that Aemond would go to Storm’s End and treat with Lord Baratheon, taking Stormfury and flying off. He did not return till the late morning of the next day. And when Aemond returned, the prince had a horrified look on his face. Something was definitely wrong.

Alicent and Otto were both discussing what he had done, Aemond said that he managed to get Lord Baratheon’s trust with a marriage pact. But then, he also explained something else that he had done.

“I..I killed Lucereys…” 

Both Alicent and Otto were taken back, Alicent turned away and had her hands to her face while Otto took the role of scolding him. 

“You have only lost one eye, how can you be so blind?” Otto scolded. Aemond looked down in shame. 

Y/n was listening in from the shadows in the corner, when he heard Aemond had done such a deed he stormed over to the prince enraged by his words. Grabbing the prince by his collar and pulling him in close, it seemed like Y/n just grew a lot taller. 

“You. Did. What.”

“I killed him…” Y/n could not deny that he was somewhat impressed that he still had the nerve to fully admit what he did to his face, knowing that this might not end well for him as seeing the assassin was already very mad.

“I gave you that dragon as I took pity, along with the very small kindness that I had that I did oblige to your request. And this is what you use it for? Killing your nephew? Are you blinded by your obsession with him that you had to kill him?” Y/n just raged at him, grabbing him by the shoulders and staring at his violet eye.

For the first time in Aemond’s life, the prince felt true terror through those eyes, he hated this feeling and yet he can not escape its gaze as he was forced to look through them. “Stormfury refused to listen to me..he just kept going..” His voice turned quiet and almost sounded ashamed. 

Y/n looked at Alicent and Otto for a second before looking back at Aemond and shaking his head. “The thought that the Targaryens control the dragons is an illusion. They are living breathing beings that have thoughts of their own. Not mindless weapons that you can bend to your will.” 

The two older Hightowers looked over the situation in concern but also in fascination, for they had no idea of what had happened between the two. Y/n turned to walk away and gestured for Aemond to follow, Alicent called for her son to stay but what she did not know was that her son was no longer hers.

“Aemond. You promised me, remember? Unless, you want your dragon gone.” The prince took one last look at his mother and grandfather, before turning away and walking out of sight.

Walking down the halls of the keep, Aemond had no idea where they were headed. “Pack your things. We are going to leave by nightfall.” 

This made Aemond stop in his tracks, he was not sure how he felt about that. To leave court, his family, his siblings. Y/n on the other hand could only laugh.

“Remember we made this deal the night you asked for that dragon, and when I listed my conditions you agreed. You can not go back on such a promise.” Leaning into Aemond’s ear he whispered. “Because you know what will happen if you defy me.”

Pulling away Y/n returned to his own rooms to pack up his belongings. Aemond stood still for a couple seconds before walking a different path, he had no choice but to leave with him.

 Y/n did not pack too much as it is like he would be back anytime soon, taking what he had packed which was just some clothes. By the time night fell he walked out of the Red Keep for most likely the last time. Getting into the wheelhouse he had ordered, and soon he arrived at the dragon pit. 

Vallath was landed somewhere hidden so he needed to go outside of the city walls to find him, but first he wanted to check on Aemond. And right on time, Aemond was already there with Stormfury. But then, Alicent was also there, it seemed that she was trying to get Aemond to rethink his decision of leaving.

“Aemond, let's go.” 

“Aemond! Wait!” Alicent cried out. “Please, rethink this. We need you here. Rhaenyra has gone to madness and will come after us. You will not be safe on your own!” 

“He is not on his own. He is going with me, he had already promised me long ago. Let’s go, Aemond.” Y/n stated sternly, not caring about Alicent’s opinions.

Both of them climbing onto Stormfury’s saddles as they soon took off, flying outside of the city walls, Y/n told Aemond to land just outside of a nearby forest. “Wait here. You will know when to follow again.”

Y/n walked into the masses of trees, nothing was heard but then a roar sounded through the forest as a dragon flew overhead. 

“Let’s go!” Y/n shouted from the back of Vallath. 

They both flew east, for days, maybe even a week before they landed. The clouds and mist parted for a grand building to appear, it looked to be a place that fell from the heavens and the stars themselves. Aemond looked at what was presented in front of him in awe, he was speechless, his mouth hanging open but his words melted away as he took in what he saw.

Their dragons landed in front of the gates, lowering their backs slightly letting their riders slide from their wings. With a flick of Y/n’s hand, the gates opened as the masked servants bowed at his arrival. Turning to look at Aemond, he was smiling with glee. 

“Welcome, to my world Aemond.”

Aemond followed the other male as they walked in, Aemond then saw the reality of how the dragons were really born. 

Broken pieces of shells collected into piles to be remade, different wings of all sizes were set up and held up in trays to be delivered to be made into something. Stacks of dragon skin and boxes of scales, the skin was in piles like fabric while the scales were like beads ready to be sewed on. Different dragon bodies that were just flesh at the moment shipping throughout the building, along with horns and spikes that were also being sent.

Y/n led them to his office, where he already had a pile of parchment he needed to get through. Setting down his bag, telling his servant to take it to his chambers. 

The Targaryen had a thousand questions running through his mind, but he just could not bring himself to ask them as if thinking they were inappropriate for the timing. Y/n beat him to it when speaking.

“You will work here, and stay with me. Unless, I ever choose to return back to Westeros then you can go back with me. Is that understood?” His tone was harsh like from years ago. 

Aemond nodded as he stood tall but his head was hung low. “Will I ever see my family again?” He finally got the courage to ask. 

“You will see them when we go back to Westeros, which I could only hope to find the time for as I have this work now that I have returned. Let us hope they will still be around when you go back, I can feel a storm brewing in Westeros. After you pull the stunt of kinslaying, well, it is not going to be pretty.” Y/n’s words came with a laugh from his throat.

A servant came into the room and bowed to their lord, waiting for orders as they have been called for moments prior. Y/n noticed this of course.

“Get him into work attire, train him, teach him to do every station of work.” Y/n gestured to Aemond. “Once he knows what he is doing, he is my assistant and right hand. Now go.” The former prince went with the masked servant to get to work, leaving the lord of the factory to himself as he sorted the parchment. 

“Welcome to my bloodline, Aemond. This is where the Targaryens think they got their power from.”