#unrestrained spring bliss

[3rdmissingsock]

Bookmark experiences interesting weather phenomena

[wordsinhaled]

21 24 !! hugs for dream boy !!

thank you for the prompt and i’m so sorry this is atrociously late, i just got done prepping for an exam that is now over! ❤️

from the soft prompts list — “this is a very long hug now sort of hug” and “just really needed a hug sort of hug.” and i threw in ‘i missed you’ as a bonus

-

Dream has not known himself to be one for hugs, or indeed embraces of any kind.

Of course he understands their appeal, from the slightly removed perspective that is uniquely his as the lord of dreams. He has crafted more than one reverie of nothing more complex than a single, protracted, yearned-for embrace from someone special to the dreamer.

He comprehends—if only academically—that a simple hug can be, under the right circumstances, blissful. Healing. Transformative. So say the psyches of the visitors to his realm.

Still, Dream is not prepared to experience this firsthand. He is not prepared for the unrestrained enthusiasm with which Hob Gadling bounds up from his chair and opens his arms to him, as though this too is part of their familiar ritual.

Nor is he prepared for how much he is pleased by this welcome. For how much he feels immediately eased to be once again in Hob’s presence, even after so short a time.

Dream has surprised him; it is not their usual evening of the week but a Sunday afternoon, and the Inn is mostly empty: only a few patrons sitting at the bar, Hob comfortable at his customary table, sunlight streaming over the papers surrounding him.

It should feel like Dream is trespassing—he is unexpected, and Hob had clearly been busy—yet somehow it does not.

Instead, it feels startlingly ordinary—a tableau of Hob’s day-to-day life; one Dream finds himself pleased to become a part of.

Hob says, “Hello, my friend,” soft and full of fondness, as though a year of weekly meetings has done nothing at all to make a dent in the joy of calling Dream such. He opens his arms wider.

Dream does not normally indulge himself in Hob Gadling’s subconscious, but Hob was daydreaming of just this not a moment ago, loudly enough that Dream could not help but to see flashes of it.

And Hob Gadling’s daydream is thus: Hob would hold Dream’s narrow frame as though each atom of his form manifested in the Waking were cherished, with enough cherishing left over to bleed over into the Dreaming as well. He would squeeze hard enough to lift him slightly from the floor—if Dream would allow such a liberty; for Hob would fain do only what Dream would find pleasing and not a thing more. Hob Gadling daydreams of what Dream would smell like at the crook of his neck, were Hob to bury his nose there; of how Dream’s hair would feel brushing his cheek. He imagines it soft as cornsilk and ephemeral as shadows, which is, impressively, not far from the truth.

And in Hob’s daydream he says “I missed you,” quietly enough that Dream might not hear. But—secret fear, or dearest wish, or both?—there is every chance that Dream could hear, for Dream, Hob knows, does not have the hearing of a mere mortal.

“I missed you too,” Dream says aloud. He cannot help himself. Who is he, if not a bringer of men’s dreams? This one is easy to fulfill. It requires only that Dream offer up a truth he finds suddenly easy to admit, standing here, sharing the same shaft of sunlight that pools in the smile lines around Hob’s eyes.

Dream takes a step towards Hob, until it is only natural that he finds himself within the circle of Hob’s waiting arms.

He drops his forehead onto Hob’s shoulder, and curls his fists into the thick wool of Hob’s sweater. His hair, shadow-soft, brushes Hob’s cheek, and he knows that in this moment he smells of all that Hob likes best.

(Later, when he thinks of falling in love with Hob Gadling, he imagines he began to realize it then.

For it was a single embrace that set his manifested heart to swaying like a boat settling at anchor; a single embrace that made of him a leaf drifting groundward on a warm spring breeze.

A singular moment of bliss.)

[guppygiggles]

Short little ✨thing✨ under the cut, because my brainrot over Avery is absolutely vicious at the moment, and I just had to spin a yarn over it. (Lee!Avery, foot tickling).

How would I tickle Avery? Oh, let me count the ways… 

If I could entreat him to put his large, delicate feet in my lap… Imagine, if you can, the softness of soles that scarcely ever grace the ground, for their light-footed owner’s penchant for hovering… as often as not, the shoes were merely a formality. Cool like porcelain, yet flushed cornflower at the pads and toes, you’d seldom chance even a glimpse at their tender undersides. 

Still, a sincere request would be dear enough to soften the sensitive cloud’s inhibitions; you’d need only ask, and he would stutteringly comply… even allowing you to remove his socks while he sat primly for you, submitting to whatever your designs might be.

I would not make him wait – starting at his heels, I’d drag my fingertips up the smooth length of his silky insteps, prompting a reflexive curl of his toes to accompany a bashful giggle. Dripping with sincerity, he’d be helpless but to titter out a “that tickles!” or “hey, wahahait!”, serving only to spur my hunger for his exquisite laughter.

My fingers would form gentle claws, beginning to scribble randomly along his pillowy skin, his feet wriggling in place with his effort to remain still. Shy giggles would yield to heartier laughter, his head tilting back as he filled the room with gleeful, unrestrained mirth. His knees would bend and twitch as he fought for control, hands curling into fists as they rested, trembling, on his thighs.

“Stay still for me, Avery…” I’d croon as I administered the playful torture, my spidery digits climbing up to his toes, skittering fiendishly into the soft valleys beneath. How he would howl, then… his body doubling forward as his arms moved to wrap around his torso, as if hugging himself would somehow assuage the tickly assault on his soles. With his ankles unfettered and heels resting on my leg, escape an evergreen option, the challenge would be self-imposed; how much could the compliant, shameless lee withstand? 

“You’re not ticklish on your toes, by any chance… are you?” A rhetorical question he’d bristle to hear, his eyes widening as that wonderful blue shade danced across his face.

“C-Casper, now, wahahait, you already know they’re… ah…”

I’d wait out his speechless squirming with infinite patience, watching the question tickle him inside. 

“They’re what…?” 

“T-ticklish…” He’d squeak, punctuating his admission with a tight curl of his pretty round toes.

“Oh, are they… Would it make you laugh, then, if I did something like this?"

My smooth nails would spring to life, scritching the pads of his toes, sending him into renewed, ticklish hysterics. Then, the delicious begging would start. 

“PLEHehehehease!” He’d whine, his feet squirming, shaking, and wiggling, one foot trying to shield the other, only to be doubly attacked with both sets of whirling fingertips. Then they would switch, the hidden foot dutifully taking its turn to endure the onslaught of affectionate torture.

“Please what?” I’d ask, knowing that sentence was one he’d never finish… and we both knew why. 

“CAHAhahahasper!” Desperation would cling to his voice as he’d cry out his response, glistening tears forming in the corners of his half-moon eyes, a warm, resounding belly laugh echoing off the living room walls. 

Heart soundly melted like a popsicle in the summer of his delight, I’d finally show mercy, massaging away the ticklish tingles from Avery’s obedient feet. A deep sigh would roll from him, endorphins mingling with relief as he’d lean into the arm of the couch, slipping into a heady state of bliss. I’d watch him relax, allowing him to enjoy my soothing ministrations for a while… before eventually, softly interrupting:

“Don’t get too comfortable, peach… after all… we haven’t even gotten to your other spots, yet.”

[chogiwow]

anatomy of a smile. | kim seungmin

pairing : gn! reader x seungmin (platonic, hints at some feelings~ )

genre: fluff

wc: 1k+

a/n: aka i rant about seungmin’s smile :] just a blurb since idrk where to take this so yes, I s’pose this is yet another word spill :>

@strayingawayy khaana lag gaya hai , aa jaao :>

seungmin has that shy smile on his lips, a quivering twitch of petals and rosy cheeks that tremble to keep the smile that threatens to burst on his lips any moment. he’s happy, one can tell at a glance. the briefest flash of teeth peeks out as he traps his bottom lip between them, the faint sheen of moisture glittering before it disappears. his worrying teeth let go, bottom lip jutting out in a pout, red from nibbling on it and this is the point you stop and stare because this is when seungmin truly flushes up in embarrassed joy and oh! his open-mouthed giggles tumble out like glittering waterfall, lips finally parting to let the trembling laughter finally escape, eyes scrunching up and slender fingers covering his mouth, body almost curling in itself as he attempts to become one with the couch he’s situated on, hiding his steaming face within the depths of chan’s black hoodie which is all consuming and the only way you can even discern his silent laughter is his quivering body. it takes a while, the giggles merging into whines of protests against this ordeal he’s been put under, a wailing mess subject to compliments.

it's not that he is never complimented, in fact, you think (and quite fervently too) that he should be complimented more because firstly he deserves it. kim seungmin truly deserves the world to fall at his feet and treat him as the king that he is, but also because it’s fun.

it is exceptionally fun to witness seungmin writhing as if in agony under loud proclamations of being the best singer with a voice sweeter than honey echoing through the walls of the room by one han jisung who is relentless and has a shared fare of ‘fun’ in watching seungmin squirm and become smaller by the second. it is no help when hyunjin joins in with his own unrestrained guffaws as he severely agrees to everything jisung has to say under the sun.

when the chaos has calmed down, the man in question finally lifts his head up from his spot of respite, red in the face, cheeks glowing under a rose-tinted luminance, eyes tearing up at the corners and shaking his head as the voices ebb away and he himself settles into a blissful state. you almost wish they would never stop just so you could bask in your friend’s shy giggles and embarrassed groans.

there are times when seungmin is at the other of the teasing and pampering, and you’ve been at the receiving end of it countless times. you’re quite concerned with hiding your aching jaws suppressing a smile that seemingly wants to burst out under a simple off handed compliment from him. but seungmin is eerily good at noticing things, more so at your expense and so when he catches sight of your pursed lips, his own seam open into a toothy grin and if you’re not trying to rid yourself of this menace you call your friend who you know very well is going to start teasing you any second now, you’d actually stop and appreciate the way his eyes crinkle up at you mischievously – and you do. with the briefest of glances at your best friend who has his eyes trained on you to gauge the amount of embarrassment he has caused you, you catch sight of his grin, beaming at the predilection of your flustered state.

and you like it. you like it when seungmin has a reason to smile, to bare his happiness, unrestrained and boundless without ill intents because for a while, for that short-stipulated time, his happiness is your happiness. his laughter is the pleasant ringing of bells on a fine spring day. you’ve never perhaps tried to comprehend what warmth in a person is, but with seungmin it was like a natural setting. almost as if you woke up, took a single glance at the boy and your brain went into an automated state of familiarity of that sentiment.

in your wired brain, you recognized the need to always keep this boy happy, the notable particularity of having him smile – at you, at his friends, at some song that made him happy, at the prospect of having a good meal and enjoying it, at some heartwarming book, at a comedic relief in movies… at everything.

but seungmin’s smile also shone through his pain, heavily masked but poorly concealed under your own uncomfortable perception of it. through the heavy eyes that shone under a curtain of unshed sorrow in a darkened room, with words of assurance wobbling out miserably, his smile would be his own disguise at a placebo to comfort himself despite your repeated rejection of his alleged burdensome state. his lips would quiver still, face scrunched up as he hiccups through his sobs. but it would never be a burden to you, never his sobs, not even your tearstained sleeves which wipe away at his cheeks.

and again it leaves you scrambling to right this wrong, to get it all back together into place, to shake him by the shoulders and get him to stop crying but that’s not how it works. that’s not how seungmin woks. he simply moves on from his dejection and with such unnaturalness, it leaves you queasy at how he simply just moves on. you do not like his smiles that follow this short spell, because you’re never quite sure until much, much later to the extent of his nonchalance. you cannot discern between the fake upturn of his lips or a genuine smile because he always manages to make it reach his eyes; he always manages to pass it off effortlessly and it takes you your all to not remind yourself of how exceptionally cumbersome it must be to be able to do that.

but this is kim seungmin; even if he is not attuned to his own emotions at some times, he is still considerate of others and kind to the extent that he would assure you that with time he’ll be okay. and like a cat on hot bricks, you’ll understand and wait.

and seungmin will smile again, cheeks full, lips rosy and you will know for sure then, because he will catch your eyes from one end of the room and maybe it will always be your imagination, but his smile would widen ever so slightly at your sight and you will feel yourself mirroring it and you will know that it is okay.

[aladaylessecondblog]

Fallen Star, pt. 5 "That Ain't Spring Water"

Author's Note: No sex this chapter, but our dear Nerevarine is certainly remembering some.

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

They were cocooned in pure and unrestrained bliss for a solid two weeks.

Certainly, Voryn kept slipping by calling her Nerevar, rather than her own name. And seemed rather overfond of being called a god, specifically for her to do so in the throes of passion. And he kept practically throwing symbols of House Dagoth at her...and there was the looming mammoth in the room that was his entire plan for Morrowind...

This was already an impossible decision and now it was even worse.

But other than that, Sadara thought somewhat darkly, things were perfect.

When a lack of color had bothered her she'd taken some of the dried golden kanet flowers in her bag and woven them into a braid one morning. The next day there was a basket waiting with even more of a variety of colored blooms. She'd seen him smile when she did the same with them, and then tell her that it was wonderful to see more than cold metal and the glow of lava against the barren walls he was accustomed to.

When she'd mentioned her rations were running low and she planned to make a trip to Ald'ruhn for more the next day--a hefty bag of rations and assorted foods simply turned up in the morning. Voryn had admitted with a wry little smile to forgetting that she hadn't yet learned to like corprusmeat. Perhaps she never would. He would not let it be said, though, that he neglected the needs of his Nerevar.

It stung just a little...but his arms slipping around her and pulling her close absolutely did not. That was one of the things that comforted her when she began to doubt - his seeking or giving touch.

Voryn was there. He was there, she saw it every day, and she COULD reach him.

And I would have you at my side as I elevate them.

And yet his darker self was there too, the half she preferred not to name, that had plans for Morrowind that had not yielded in an era. Who spoke with such conviction that her mind whispered back that surely it made sense to listen and really, he had a better plan for the future than Vivec's "wait and see" approach.

The half that had Morrowind in terror of him, that could send someone running in the other direction for fear of falling under his influence.

The half that embraced her as though she might vanish if he didn't hold tightly enough, that kissed as though he were trying to devour her, that made love as though he were going to war.

You can help him, a part of her would whisper when she was held close against him, as her body still sang with the afterglow of satisfaction. He isn't lost. He isn't beyond hope.

She would just have to keep trying.

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

Along with the supplies of food at the beginning of the third week came the expected accompaniment of water. Though when Sadara looked at the bottles, one stood out. It wasn't made of glass, but silver...perhaps it was Voryn's?

But he didn't seem to need food or water...that she knew of, anyway.

Perhaps it was wine?

She picked the bottle up and opened it. There was no scent like wine, or sujamma, or flin or...anything else intoxicating, really. So what was it?

Sadara decided to risk it and take a sip.

It was water. Just water, that was all. But why in so fancy a bottle if that was the case?

As she sat and drank another bit of it she found herself thinking back. Leyawiin...that last day she'd been there. Not doing well, had enough to eat, but the ability to pay for another week's stay under an actual roof had become a pressing concern. And then had come the emperor's...

...huh.

The details were fuzzy. The details that had been so starkly lined in her mind that they felt etched into her very bones were suddenly fraying at the edges. Faces she remembered precisely were mysteriously unclear, the bumps and cracks of the carriage ride, the--when had that happened? She thought back further. Skingrad she used to be able to remember too, if slightly hazily. But now? Her mother saying their cousin had taken liberties with the dead and it was a good idea to leave was all that remained.

Suddenly, she was afraid. She put down the water, and wondered what had caused this sudden lapse in memory.

"I see you've found the delivery."

Sadara stiffened slightly, and turned in Voryn's direction.

"I was just working on getting it into my room and got a bit thirsty."

"I can have others do that," he gestured briefly, "Really? Such work is beneath you now, you know."

Then Voryn's eyes fell on the bottle in her hands. The mask was on, so she couldn't see his face, but his stance tensed, and he strode over to take it from her.

"Where did you get this?"

"It came with the rest of the water," she said, "Why?"

Voryn growled. "It's not--you shouldn't be drinking this particular--if more comes, simply turn it over to me."

"It's not poisoned, is it? Something only you drink, but that would...hurt me?"

There was a pause as he lifted the bottle.

"In a sense. Don't touch it again..." He trailed off at that, and set the bottle back down with the others, "Perhaps I should be more worried about you than I already am. You picked up the different bottle and took a drink from it without a second thought."

That statement broke the tension that Sadara had been feeling, and she managed a little laugh. "Guilty as charged. I suppose that was something Nerevar did?"

"On any number of occasions." Now Voryn gave a laugh, too. "It really is astonishing how alike you are. I have heard little of the prior, failed incarnates, so perhaps they had these little things about them too. But you...you! I practically see him bursting out of you, Nerevar."

"Sadara. Please." She looked away, feeling bad for correcting him. "It's not that I don't value this, it's not that I'm trying to deny who I am. It's..."

"It's what?"

"It's that I don't...I feel it would be almost...disrespectful?" she looked up at him, tried to make eye contact. With the mask it was impossible--there were no eyes, only the empty, impassive stare of that golden mask of his. "I am him, and yet I'm not him, because if I was, I wouldn't be...me. But I want to honor him somehow. I don't remember what house I'm from, but I don't want to use Indoril, because--look what the Tribunal have turned THAT name into!"

Silence.

"Do you understand what I mean?"

"I understand perfectly." There was a slight amusement about Voryn's tone. "And I have an easy solution."

"I'd love to hear it."

"Take it as your house name, and it works beautifully. Nerevar Sadara."

"That...you're right." Sadara thought for a moment longer, and shrugged off the lingering doubt. Why should it not go like that, after all?

[instruth]

THAT DAY IN SPRING

‘Twas a sunny April day in spring

Strolling, I heard a soft wind go zing

Stirringly, awakes my quiet happiness

Shaking loose my hoarded emptiness

Unsure whether ‘twas a blessed bliss

Or something hideous that I’d missed

I’d been used to a life framed in my mind

Well contented with all its treasured find

I felt the shackles chiseled off my feet

Free at last to wave to everyone I meet

Yet I couldn’t say ‘twas all joyously fine

Not with a chill creeping down my spine

Only ‘twas the first time I rested my head

To the slain feelings, iced numb and dead

All I did was look down the misty waterfall

Took that leap of faith by my spirit’s call

Letting go of hesitation, I let my spirit fall

Screamed out my fear in full, unrestrained

I thawed out as water flushed out my pain

Blimey! My life was never the same again

©Johnny J P Lee

23 March 2023

A Gogyoshiren Poem (20)

Photo Credit J. P. Lee

[asuccessfulbusinessman]

Remilia's a dumbass, all she had to do was change the vampire canon and she could experience unrestrained spring bliss, watch-

[3rdmissingsock]

Bookmark has finally returned from hibernation! Just in time to see the flowers before tonight's freeze kills them

[christylove94]

Just Like Those Autumn Leaves

Although I’m not writing for the Nnt Zine this year, I still felt compelled to write yet another Seasons themed fic. This one represents Autumn. If you haven’t checked out Winter, you can check it out here(NSFW). Thank you @jacklynnfrost for looking this over for me! She’s one of the Zine writers and her work is pretty stellar, so go check her out. Without further ado, please enjoy!

Elizabeth offers her hand and he takes it without question, this touch between them now ingrained into his being. It causes a funny rise in sensation across his skin. Pleasant like a spring breeze or maybe something more like the sound of her tinkling laughter on the wind. 

He's loitering at the peak of the feeling when she tugs him into the throng of dancing bodies. He's stiff and uncertain, limbs wooden and jerky as she urges him into a sudden dance. 

“This’ll be fun! I've always wanted to join one of these but since I don't know how to dance and never had a friend like you... Well, I couldn't,” she explains hands clasping his as she leans in close enough to remind him of how bright her blue eyes are, like fractured gems in sunlight, and the way her silver hair flows like rivers of sheeny silk. 

He tries to follow as best as he can when she begins to move, the thought of denying her this not once crossing his mind. They fall into a bumbling dance, horribly mimicking those around them with bent arms and curved palms coming together as a fiddle hums out an even pace. It's awkward and she gives a laugh as breathtaking as she before transitioning into something more flowing with her hands twining back with his.  

He finds his mind drifting from trying to succeed in this dance to the way she moves around him. Pure radiance, putting the sprinkling of stardust across the inky velvet of the night sky to shame. Rosy cheeked and head tilted to the sky as she twirls with arms spread wide and her hair forming a billowing arc which reflects the amber of firelight in a warm glow, he stands rooted to the spot overcome with blooming emotion. His heart is a prominent beat pulsating from his head to his fingertips and toes. There are feathery soft flutters in his gut, his cheeks feeling warm in the autumn breeze. So used to the cold, this brewing of warmth cracking his icy innards is overwhelming.  

His breathing escalates, his hands begin to shake. She stops her spin, stumbling into his arms with a delighted giggle. His hands fall to her back over the rumpled sheet of her hair, his head landing on her shoulder where jasmine and sweet nectar perfume in the air. He doesn't calm, experiencing another burst of sensation exploding in his gut as she wraps him close in their impromptu embrace.  

“Hugging you has to be one of the best things I've experienced in this world,” she sighs, voice easily resonant to his senses even swallowed in the crowd. 

He quivers, nerves becoming overloaded in a different kind of numb, and all he can think is, ‘What is this human doing to me?’ 

Like a bow pulled taut, she suddenly goes rigid, his head jerking back to observe her features in response. Her eyes are fixed on a presence behind him. He throws his senses out in a shadowed blanket over the festival to find out exactly what. “We have to leave,” her eyes fall to his, desperate and shaking. 

His maelstrom of confusing emotions is exchanged for the familiar ice of calculated precision. He snags her waist in the bend of his arm, leading her from the crowd at a smooth pace. Out of the mass of unremarkable humans, he feels two keen points as bright as stars mixed in; one lingering in the crowd and one weaving in their direction. Goddesses. He doesn't question it, guiding her shivering frame towards a darkened alleyway between two cozy homes. He could effortlessly sweep her up and take to the skies with his shadow infused wings, but that would draw the eye and reveal his origins as well. Even the use of blind speed regardless of how miniscule, the sharp surge in power would be detected. So he doesn't risk it, tugging her past a couple into the hardened shadows where he eventually pulls them to a stop. 

She resists, trying to keep their momentum going, her skin ashen like a snow white corpse having given all her blood to the dress framing her curves. “We have to keep going. Please!” her plea rushes forth all in one breath. 

He shakes his head once. “If they're going by sense they'll easily notice us fleeing. We stay put.” he asserts coolly. 

Her grip on his hand blanches the color from it, though he hardly notices, watching the way liquid swims across the pink rims of her eyes. As he deduced, he feels a goddess approaching their alleyway. His pulse ticks up several notches oddly, his eyes beginning to scan their surroundings for something to make them appear less conspicuous. No doorways to dip into leap into sight, just a lopsided table and the twined couple at the entrance of the alley.  

An idea unfurls as strange as his urgent feeling and he guides her rigid body into sitting on the rotting wood. Her eyes round impossibly further as her breathing moves into being audible to humans. A tear streaks down her cheek, cracking through him in a different sort of pain than he's used to, one that doesn't blend with the rest as it digs in deep like a trunk sized splinter. 

He thumbs the tear away carefully and whispers, “You trust me?” 

“Yes,” she hiccups with no hesitance. 

Moving his arm to the gritty wall behind her so he can hide as much of her face as possible, he holds her rounded point of a chin between his thumb and forefinger. They had promised to discover why others pressed their mouths together. Now will be the time to find out.

He presses his lips to hers.

They both jerk back at the spark of crackling warmth. His mind does a wobbly spin, his breath caught somewhere in his lungs and he sees her eyes are focused, expectant, eager even. He leans into her again, lips aligning with hers where he holds steady, letting the crackling warmth burst into flames and melt his thoughts into mush. Her lips are smooth silk, plump and warm delicacies that stir up sensation all over again. Their lips separate and connect without rhyme or reason, their noses bumping and breaths hitching as they create their own addicting kind of magic. He wants more of it, the tingles rushing in his gut and palms, the wild and frantic thumps of his heart, and the feeling of something greater taking the reins, driving him towards the light of awakening.

She delves her hands beneath his coat, the heat of her touch through the cloth of his tunic nearly scolding to his overly sensitive flesh. He leans into the burn, dizzy and lightheaded, their kiss becoming harder frenetic presses. Their lips slip and slide together as she digs her nails into his back, tugging him between her legs as the lapels of his coat swallow her. The movement throws him off balance and he winds up sucking her bottom lip between his own. So close he feels the violent shiver that rocks through her. She’s not quiet in the least with the honey smooth sound that follows like a line of fire shooting south.

He parts their mouths fully with the willingness of taking a sword to his own limbs, their lips brushing as her breath becomes his own heady sustenance. Her eyes are unfocused and dark beneath lead gray lashes. He lifts his thumb to her lower lip, sweeping over its damp, swollen swell, and her eyes flutter shut as she makes another unrestrained response, this time a heavy sigh. He shivers, and all at once he notices what’s become of the volatile node of emotions she's brought to life, feeling its rigid presence nudged against her belly.

He pulls away from her, gasping and spine ramrod straight, recalling vividly feeling like this in adolescence so long ago and how he had jerked the feeling away. He assumed this would never happen again with his curse.

She sits where he left her, leaning towards him, head tilted and lips parted like an irresistible invitation. “So that's a kiss…?” she says under her breath and slowly pulls back before he can lose his sense again.

Her words stir him back into awareness and he mentally hones in on the goddesses, finding them both on the other side of the festival, the couple at the entrance of the alley having vanished as well. His eyes connect with hers as clarity begins to dawn in her trembling gaze. “We can slip away now. They shouldn’t suspect us,” he tells her, out of breath.

She nods in jerky motions before rising to her feet. He’s swift to grab her waist when she wobbles on her feet. They freeze with a bundle of tension sizzling the air between their lips which snaps deliciously when she leans down to peck his mouth. His eyes flutter shut as he struggles to grasp what he’s feeling.

And then she whispers, “Thank you,” and he feels something tenderly stitching together the yawning wound which had allowed the blustering ice in.

Something in him resists with violent thrashes, not wanting to be without what he’s endured for years and years. But instead of giving in, of pulling away and creating distance, he takes a shaky breath and peers into her eyes, “No. Thank you, Elizabeth. You make me feel alive. For the first time ever, I feel like I can breathe.”

She blinks at him in that innocent way of hers that makes him flush with happiness. It’s exhilarating. 

It’s devastating.

That moment over a century ago in a forest full of amber, ruby, and golden leaves, he remembers that girl’s smile as she thanked him and how he’s ached and yearned to find her again; how Elizabeth has an identical pull; how Elizabeth is breathtakingly, enchantingly mortal. It’s going to happen again. Elizabeth is going to disappear from his life within the bony, cold claws of death and the fullness he’s been gifted with will drain away. He’ll be left empty and hollow. 

He nearly caves into cowardice, the biting pain of nothingness looking like bliss in comparison, when she finally settles on her response. “I’m so happy to have you in my life, Meliodas,” she clings to him in a sudden tight embrace he returns with equal fervor. “Never leave me. Please.”

And just like that his fate is decided. But then again—

He nuzzles against her bosom, hearing her fragile, human heartbeat with a thick knot forming in his throat.

—he wonders if there ever really was a choice.

[jancmalandra]

On first encounters with adult Moomins

Part I: Snork Maiden

The first day of Spring in Moominvalley after Moomintroll went South for the Winter for the first time with Snufkin saw a seemingly endless string of unprecedented sights. The first of these was Snork Maiden pacing anxiously back and forth on the footbridge over the stream that passed by Moominhouse instead of Moomintroll. Her hibernation had been filled with wonderful, but also uncomfortably revealing dreams of her long courtship of Moomintroll. She had relived all the time that they had spent snuggling up to each other in fields, in the woods, in hammocks and on the porch and in the parlor love seat of Moominhouse, exchanging sweet, blissful romantic talk for hours. She had remembered all of his loving gifts to her, both large and small, and all the times he had gleefully joined in her romantic playacting. Then she had recalled all the times Moomintroll had risked his safety, and even his life without hesitation to save her from danger.

Inevitably these happy memories had been interrupted by her recollection of all the times she had tried to keep Moomintroll entirely for herself in the deeply mistaken idea that he couldn't love her unless he kept his love for her alone. She shed tears into the stream below her over all the time and energy she had wasted being jealous of him for showing love for anyone else. The thought of all the pointless pain she had caused both Moomintroll and Snufkin made her even more determined to kill off every last trace of her old tendency to jealousy. Moominmama's wisdom on real love had sunk deep into her heart and soul through her hibernation dreams, so she knew all she had to do was apologize to Moomintroll and Snufkin to start over again, but still her heart trembled within her just a little.

She immediately perked up when she heard the familiar sound of Snufkin's harmonica playing drifting up the stream towards her. She had heard Snufkin's Spring Tunes every year since he and Moomintroll first met, but this one had an entirely different feel to it; for the first time, it was more joyful than than sad, as if Snufkin had begun to leave the pain of his past behind him. It could only be because of Moomintroll.

She forced herself to remain on the footbridge so that she could really drink the two of them in as they approached her. Her heart raced even faster as she began to see Moomintroll and Snufkin clearly, walking together, holding each other's paws lovingly, moving in synch with Snufkin's harmonica playing. She couldn't stand the wait any longer, so she raced over to them, flung herself into their arms, and embraced them both at once, planting a kiss on each of their cheeks in turn!

"I've missed the both of you SO VERY MUCH!", Snork Maiden said, tears flowing down her cheeks. She very quickly put one of her paws over each of their lips. "Please; you have to let me go first, or I'm afraid that I might lose the nerve to say the things that I NEED to say to you! I hope you both can forgive me for all the terrible things I've said and done to keep the two of you apart despite the fact that I've always known that you were meant to be together! I just want the three of us to be able to start over and find our way forward as a family, all three of us, just as we were always meant to! Please say that we can!"

To say that Moomintroll and Snufkin were surprised by this turn of events would be understatement of the century. Moomintroll, in particular, had carefully rehearsed everything that he had intended on saying to her, but now he was going to have to cut straight to the point as Snork Maiden had already said all the difficult things that needed to be said before he had had a chance to.

"Of COURSE, we forgive you, my beloved Snork Maiden!", said Moomintroll, crying tears of joy! "Nothing would make Snufkin and I happier than having you by our side forever! And, just to prove that all is forgiven and that we really are all starting over again, here's a gift that I've been saving just for you!"

Snork Maiden noticed for the very first time that Moomintroll was wearing a badly wrinkled long white coat of some kind around himself that was open at the front. Moomintroll reached into the front pocket of the coat and pulled out a gold ring. He then carefully took Snork Maiden's tail in his left front paw and threaded the tuft of fur at the end of her tail through the ring and brought the ring down her tail until it became permanently stuck just a few inches from the tuft of fur. Snork Maiden's eyes lit up with inexpressible joy! Moomintroll then swept her into his arms and kissed her so passionately that the fringe of blonde fur on her head stood on end! He then put Snufkin's paw together with hers.

"The two of you are long overdue for a conversation about all of this, just like I'm already massively late for a conversation with my parents!", said Moomintroll, removing the coat with a flourish and flinging it dramatically into the nearby stream, where it quickly flowed downstream, well past any hope of being recovered. Moomintroll then sped off towards Moominhouse, leaving Snufkin and Snork Maiden behind for the time being.

"Where on Earth did he learn to kiss like that?!", asked Snork Maiden, still stunned by Moomintroll's unrestrained passion.

"Wait.", said Snufkin, "I thought that he had surely kissed you like that countless times before?!"

"Oh, no! Not ever like that!", she said, "That's one thing that I always took for granted with him: he never once pressed his advantage with me or did anything that he knew I wasn't going to like when we were romancing each other. He was always the perfect gentleman that I wanted him to be."

"So, when he kissed me that night after I confessed my love for him, that really was his first real kiss!", said Snufkin, deeply touched by this new insight into Moomintroll's love for him. Snufkin then proceeded to tell Snork Maiden the entire story of how he had taken Moomintroll out on the night of the October supermoon intending to fend his love off for another year, and had instead fallen into an unexpected trap that he had accidentally set for himself.

"That was a really wonderful way to fall in love!", said Snork Maiden, "For the two of us, it was a given from the very first that we were deeply in love with each other. Only I was foolish enough to keep doubting it."

"I know firsthand how hard it is to put a painful past behind you. Perhaps we can help each other to forgive ourselves a little bit more every day?", asked Snufkin.

"I'd like that very much!", said Snork Maiden happily, "At the very least, I can help you to face Moomintroll's family. You DO know how much they've always cared for all three of us, don't you?" Snufkin could only nod yes sheepishly. "Good.", Snork Maiden continued, "I'm sure that Moomintroll doesn't need any moral support, but we should be there for him anyway. There's nothing that the three of us can't face together, not even having our fondest dreams coming true."

"You know that you sound exactly like Moomintroll?", said Snufkin.

"I think that's the nicest thing that you've ever said to me.", said Snork Maiden, "Come on, let's go." She took Snufkin's paw and they walked towards Moominhouse together.

To Be Continued

[blackphoenixalchemylab]

Zounds! It’s A Fragrant Spring Mini-Release

Sometimes a bunch of little projects come to fruition at once! Here’s a smattering of socks, scent lockets, a new perfume category called Duets, and (belatedly, thanks to DragCon) a little Lunacy. 

++ A LITTLE LUNACY

FLOWER MOON Perfume Oil

The apex of the year’s fertility, the reawakening of the sexuality of the Earth and her inhabitants. This full moon celebrates both the fecundity of the creatures and flora of this world and the vibrancy, rejuvenation and life-affirming energy of Spring. Flower Moon embodies the unrestrained bliss, energy and color of the season: wisteria, frangipani, tuberose, ylang ylang, double sugar narcissus, white sage, and a mix of California wildflowers – all gleaming gold with a thick sheen of honey.

FLOWER MOON Tee Shirt

Art by the brilliant Caldecott-winner Dan Santat!

++ DUETS

Introducing Duets: simple two-note perfumes. I had been looking for ways to unwind this past winter, so I created these two-note combinations as part of my relaxation process. It felt in many ways like humming a tuneless lullaby to myself, and much like a scented meditation. The result is a small series of gently entwined scents, an olfactory pas de deux.

These perfumes are ideal for layering, or can be worn alone. Duets will be appearing and disappearing here and there with the Lunacies throughout 2019.

Illustrations by Harry Clarke.

👯 BLACK PEPPER AND SANDALWOOD

👯 PALO SANTO AND FRANKINCENSE

👯 PATCHOULI AND VETIVER

👯 PINK AMBER AND PEONY

++ ZODIAC SOCKS

Created in the USA by the wonderful people at Sock Dreams, these socks are exclusive to Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab!

They’re made from 80% cotton, 15% nylon and 5% elastic!

GEMINI Socks

The perfect sign to emblazon on socks, because there are TWO of them, get it? Black accented with the airiest pale gray, advertising your Castor/Pollux complexities with undeniable panache. Modeled by Lab rat Galen, the product of a brilliant Gemini mother.

TAURUS Socks

Next time you want to dig in your heels, make sure they’re robustly clad in in these no-nonsense hoof-covers, patterned in an earthy combo of black and forest green — perfect for propping up while everyone else learns the hard way about everything you already warned them about. Modeled by Tom , who has Taurus in the eleventh house and isn’t sure what that means.

++ LOCKETS

These are heavy lockets, thick with silver, and are perfect for use as a perfume oil conduit. Dab your favorite Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab concoction onto muslin, velvet or cotton, and place the swatch inside the locket. Your body will warm the silver, and the locket will exude pure, unadulterated scent.

Each locket’s bale sports one of the BPAL logos: the alchemical symbol for brimstone. Portions of the face of the lockets have been deliberately tarnished. They measure approximately 1.25″ in diameter. These lockets are heavy. They are not fragile, filigreed pieces; they are durable, extremely weighty with silver, and are suitable for your most adventurous airship excursions.

These lockets are exclusive to Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab, and were created by and for Black Phoenix. They cannot be found anywhere else in all of Heaven and Earth.

Each piece is hand cast. The Zodiac lockets were designed by Alicia Dabney of Elements and Artifacts.

GOLDFISH Locket (pictured above)

GEMINI Locket

TAURUS Locket

[bottled-bliss]

did i heard someone asking for prompts? "He sometimes really hated he couldn’t properly court her" - kastle please

Coming out of left field here, this prompt didn’t take me where I thought it would. But I thought this was cute, so I wrote it anyway. I hope you like it!

The newgirl had been brought in on a wheelchair. The first thing Frank had noticedabout her was how pale she was. He could track the path of every single bluevein under her skin. The other thing was her laughter, vibrant and unrestrainedand full of life, the sound of it hitting him like thunderbolt. Gathering thecourage to talk to her had taken him a week. Pretty good time, given thecircumstances.

“Goodevening, ma’am,” he greeted respectfully. “Enjoying the garden view?”

“Yes, it’sreally lovely,” she smiled, drawing her gaze from the setting sun. “I don’tbelieve we’ve met. I’m Karen.” She extended her hand to him and he shook it. “KarenPage.”

“FrankCastle.”

“What areyou in here for, Frank?”

He pattedhis chest. “Cardiac rehab. You?”

“Orthopedicrehab,” she said, gesturing to the wheelchair. “It might take a while.”

“Usuallydoes. Don’t worry, I’ll keep you company,” he chuckled. “Won’t let you getbored.”

“Do peopleour age even have the privilege of getting bored?” she laughed. He made herlaugh. His heart gave a little kick.

“What areyou talking about? What age? You look as fresh as the first rose of spring,” hesaid and blushed a bit.

“Ah, you’rea sweet talker, aren’t you?” Her cheeks flushed too. “I thought that weddingring around your neck meant you were taken.”

“A longtime ago. A long long time ago,” he told her. “How about you?” But he alreadyknew the answer to that, because nobody had come to visit her so far.

She shookher head in jovial denial. “Nope. I was always too busy to bother with romance.The serious kind at least.”

“Busy with?”

“Being aprivate investigator.” Her eyes sparkled. “A damn good one too.”

“Toughlady, huh?” Frank grinned, his infatuation growing stronger. She must have beena beauty queen, back in the day, because she was goddamn gorgeous now, wrinklesand all.

“I may notlook like it, but I was. And you?” she flashed him a soft smile. “By that noseof yours, I’d say you were a boxer or something.”

“Orsomething,” he smiled back. “A Marine.”

“You’re atough guy too, then.”

“I don’tknow, ma’am. My knees are feeling awfully weak right now.”

Karenregarded him through narrowed eyes, her lashes fluttering playfully; a lookthat made him sweat but, more importantly, made him feel young again. “You’reoff to a good start, Marine.”

And thus begana long flirtation, during which they never let each other get bored, tradingstories from their past and laughing until the other nursing home residentscomplained about the noise. Frank sometimes really hated that he couldn’tproperly court her, couldn’t do the whole wine and dine thing, followed bywalking her home and kissing her goodnight, calling her the very next day andasking her out again. But sitting in the garden and talking until there wasnothing left but a comfortable silence was just as fun, and escaping bingonight together was probably as much excitement as his heart could stand. As forwalking her places, accompanying her to physical therapy would have to meet therequirements and Karen herself had no problem with that. She had soon taken topulling him down by the collar of his shirt and giving him a quick peck on thelips as he dropped her off for her treatment, before going to get his own.Frank thought those kisses might reverse whatever progress he had made in hishealth, considering how fast his heart was beating afterwards.

By the timeshe took her first unassisted, shaky steps a few months later, he was alreadyconsidering putting a ring around her finger. Maybe he was rushing, but timewas a luxury they couldn’t afford. Had he met her when he was younger, he mighthave been more patient, delayed a bit. But the outcome would have been thesame, he was sure of that.

“Look atyou, standing on your feet,” he cheered as she stumbled forward into his arms. “Willyou let me sweep you off them now?”

“Like youhaven’t already,” Karen laughed that blissful laugh of hers.

And withthat sound rolled in the bloom of youth.

[sunshinewhale]

an oxeye daisy

he loves me, he loves me not.

pairing: minhyuk x reader  pov: unnamed reader, second person, mostly past tense

genre: angst  word vomit: ~2800

warnings: i’m just writing the same stuff in different words and different situations. lol.

notes: not proofread. i was trying to do something small and short and quick but it turned into a monster. this was only supposed to be ~500 words.

Autumn wind caresses your skin with soft chills, but it pales in comparison to the frozen wasteland in your empty chest. It’s numb. The playground before you is flowing with youth and joyful screams of delight. It’s not as contagious as you thought it would be.

A child comes up to you. She clutches a tangled garden of flowers in her chubby hands, and specks of dirt glitter on her dress coat. Shyly, she offers one out to you. Your numbness thaws a little at the way her small baby fingers are clumsy and unpracticed.

You smile and thank her, taking the flower by the stem. You twirl it in your fingers and tell her it’s pretty and that she’s even prettier. The child beams with unrestrained glee and runs back towards the playground with a bounce in her steps.

Your sight focuses on the flower again, and it’s anything but pretty.

It’s withering. The stem is crumpled and bent horribly out of shape. The petals are carelessly smushed, discoloured and ruined at the tips. It was well on the way to death’s door before it was unearthed from its roots in the name of childish innocence.

A wild wave of nostalgia overcomes you. You wish you could to return to the honeyed fairy tales of childhood, when you didn’t understand how something as good and pure as love could ruthlessly maim beating hearts.

You run your finger over the wispy petals, and gingerly pluck one off.

He loves me.

And another.

He loves me not.

Another.

He loves me.

Minhyuk burst into your life on a somber spring day. He had carried the sun on his shoulders like he was meant to illuminate your starless sky.

You were strangers, then. At best, friends of friends, though you weren’t really sure what Kihyun considered Minhyuk to be.

That didn’t stop him.

He was so alight with life. He glowed with the watercolours of sunrise and the universe seemed to bloom into existence under his fingertips. He chattered on about anything and everything, weaving a unique melody of thrill and mischief that tickled your ears. The world excited him, the ordinary amazed him, and he wanted to share his exhilaration with you. It was annoying, but it was so annoyingly endearing.

“You don’t understand! Listen to me,” he said breathlessly, wonderstruck and awe thrumming in his voice. “We’re in such a boundless galaxy with years and years of history and look! We’ve meet here, in the same time and at the same place! That’s a miracle in itself! Wouldn’t it be such a shame if we don’t become friends?”

You remember feeling something in your wary heart stir, for the first time. Minhyuk had made a mere crack at the edge of your steel fortress, but it was enough for a trickle of his warmth to seep through and reach the slumbering eros beneath.

He loves me not.

Sworn to secrecy under the velvet moon, he confided that you weren’t exactly his type. Not that he really had a type, he hurried to explain, because types are such an inflexible concept and everyone is worth loving anyway, but he was furiously drawn to people who painted their souls vividly with emotion and wore vulnerability like golden armour.

You wore it like weakness.

He had thought you were solid diamond. Almost too unapproachable, too stiff, too aloof, too alike Kihyun. The lover in him ached, throbbing at the far distance you had withdrawn into yourself. He wanted to show you the magic the world hid in plain sight, but he had only meant to become your friend. He had a difficult time with guarded hearts that refused to flower in the sincerity of spring.

He loves me.

But then, he confessed, he saw how he made you smile for the first time, so silently sweet because you thought he wasn’t watching, and he fell just a little bit in love. He coaxed you to laugh for the first time and he fell a little bit harder. His heart swelled to the heavens and it couldn’t decide between skipping beats or beating faster when he began to realize how effortless your smiles and your laughter came for him, and only for him. Like the North star dazzling amongst billions of other identical stars, he felt so, so special.

One day, he watched you as your eyes hooked onto him in a sea of strangers. He watched as your face lit up in an indescribable, iridescent glow and the way your lips smoothly curled upwards in unrestrained beauty, and he fell completely, utterly, hopelessly.

“It was so enchanting, I couldn’t control it at all,” he breathed love against your lips, “I thought, we were definitely meant to be more than friends. I yearned to become yours.”

You placed your fingers over the heat of his heart, and you traced your name on his moonlit skin, as if you were searing it into memory.

“Is this mine, then?”

“Only yours,” he took your hand into his, and kissed his declaration into your soul as the night and all its stars bore witness, “and don’t you dare give it back.”

He loves me not.

You had hardened the outer layers of your heart into stone because you wanted to protect yourself against the dangers of unbridled passion, of loving and being loved in return. Minhyuk had given himself to you in sweet surrender, but you were reluctant to throw yourself in wholly. Just the very idea of loving entirely, emotionally, unconditionally, had always been difficult for you.

But Minhyuk made it so ridiculously easy.

He settled into your daily life as naturally as the sun rose at dawn and set at dusk. Whale-shaped cushions made themselves home on your couch, another coffee mug in the kitchen, an extra toothbrush in the bathroom. You fell into silken bedsheets with him each night, and you woke up to his handsomeness each morning. You were budding, bountiful and bright, allowing your roots to tangle with his as you bloomed thornless red roses and white ivy without poison.

You had stars in your eyes, and you were drowning in everything about Minhyuk.

His adorable uneven blink. The husky pitch of his voice. The precious crinkles of his eyes. The puppy-like curve of his smile. His large, warm hands.

His laughter was pure sunshine after the rain. He kissed like fresh dewdrops sparkling on the grass during sunrise, and embraced you securely like the way the summer sea hugged the horizon. His silly antics brightened even the bleakest of your days, and you’ve never felt so saturated with colour.

Minhyuk almost had you entirely. Almost. You were barely able to hold a small part of yourself back, but your sanity demanded you to do it. It was your last line of defence, your last hope before the ground underneath you gave way to raw vulnerability. It was small enough that it would’ve been inconsequential, but like everything else about you, he had noticed.

“You’re so enduringly careful, so cautious,” he asked into the dim light of the rising morning, “have you been hurt before?”

You tensed. Your shoulders curled into yourself out of defense, and unconsciously, you turned away from him slightly.

“No, but I’m afraid of being hurt. My heart is weak, and if I hurt I will shatter and I won’t know how to pick up the pieces and put myself back together,” your half-whispers had barely sounded in the soft silence, “that makes me afraid of you, too.”

He pulled you into his arms to unravel you, to undo the insecure knots you had wound yourself into. Minhyuk touched his forehead against yours, patiently coaxing you to look at him, and with little resistance, you locked onto his unwavering gaze.

You had nearly forgotten how to breathe.

His pupils were crystal clear and unbearably sincere. You saw endless love reflected in them, and then, you saw yourself.

“You don’t have to be afraid,” he sweared, and his voice promised you eternity, “I’ll be careful, too. I won’t hurt you.”

He paused, body stilling. His eyes widened round, like he suddenly had a life-changing revelation.

“Oh my god, I would even eat a cucumber for you.”

Minhyuk had made a face, his nose scrunched in disgust as if the very thought of eating the cursed vegetable brought him pain. You remember your fear washing away into the unknowns of the ocean, genuine fondness bubbling in its place as you promised you would never subject him to such cruelty.

He loves me.

Without even trying, he left his traces on your forever.

He was the love you dreamed about in childish fantasies, the one that lived in every fairytale and every myth, every legend. The love that made mere mortals defy gods, destroyed kings and brought great empires to war and to fall into ruin. He was the love that made miracles that you could never even imagine, happen.

And miracle, he did. Minhyuk made quick work and smoothly demolished down every last barrier that shielded your heart from the world. He didn’t leave a single brick behind in his wake. Your heart was beating naked on your sleeve, bearing his name in bolded love letters.

Your heart was so in bliss you could barely contain yourself.

“I was so reserved, Minhyuk, wasn’t it hard? I think I was hard to love.”

He chuckled at your query, a mischievous glint in his laughter as he teased, “I’m not going to lie, you’re still a little hard to love. I’m amazing, I know.”

You pouted, and amusement shook his shoulders. Adoration oozed from his entire being as he patted your cheek like he was consoling a spoiled child, but the slight scrunch of his brow told you he was giving it some serious thought.

“It was a little hard, but the hardest thing was convincing you to let me love you. Compared to that, loving you came so, so easily.”

He cradled your face as if he was holding the most precious treasure in his hands. His eyes lowered as his voice grew tender, “but you know, when I saw the beginnings of love in your eyes, I knew it was worth everything. “

“You’re worth everything,” he repeated, and his lips found yours.

He loves me not.

Spring came to an end. Spring always came to an end.

On the water’s surface, there wasn’t a single flaw. Stars never stopped twinkling in your eyes whenever you caught his gaze, and you were constantly a crisp reflection in his. Kihyun had begun to joke about being invited to your summer wedding. Minhyuk was beyond delighted that someone else saw you so clearly in his future, and you took the idea as naturally as the changing season. Love firmly rooted you two together, and in unending selflessness, both of you would do anything for each other.

Maybe, there were warning signs hanging in the air all along, like small ripples that sailors paid no mind. Maybe, the hazy promises of love had made you two both willfully blind.

Minhyuk was the perfect child of fate and destiny, and you were the other side of the coin, ingrained in choice and chances. His heart was big and his love limitless, he gave too much and at times, it felt too intense. There was too much to bear. On your worst days, you wanted him to give less, to meet your needs halfway and give you a chance to breathe. You didn’t mind suffocating in his soul, but you were new in your steps and you had just learned to trust yourself in the hands of another. For you, this territory was unfamiliar, still strangely foreign. He mistook that for doubt because you didn’t feel secure enough in his embrace, so he gave you even more.

Maybe, that was your downfall.

He loves me.

You knew Minhyuk would never leave you because he had promised you forever, and that was simply an absolute truth. Every last cell in his body was willing to follow you in eternal vow, everything else be damned.

You are worth everything, his words had echoed in your mind.

No matter what Minhyuk thought, you weren’t everything. 

You couldn’t be everything. 

So beneath, the current was turbulent. In a book of relationships, there was a page you two just couldn’t agree on. He continued to pour his love onto you until his veins were dry and his pulse was weak with exhaustion, and he still insisted it wasn’t enough. Because you understood Minhyuk and his good intentions, you let his love fill you until it ached raw and wounded. You readily endured it even though the fullness bruised you, the blood underneath your skin silently screaming too much.

Like a sluggish toxin, love’s name gradually became weary and loving put a heavy strain on both of you. However much you and Minhyuk were willing, you knew it wasn’t right. The flowers of your roses began to wilt, but the vines thrived, growing sharp thorns. Your ivy buds shrivelled, feeding sickeningly sweet poison instead of honey nectar.

You knew, then.

When the sun dipped below the skyline and it began raining on the last day of spring, you murdered his beating heart.

“We’ve been trying too hard, Minhyuk, maybe we’re meant to just be friends.”

Your eyes had already been wet before the words even left you. Fear settled into the lines of his face as he reached out for you, to console you, to hold you and deny you of what he knew you intended to do. He tucked your head into the curve of his neck, and his fingers curled into you desperately like you would disappear if he let you go.

The comfort of his warmth broke you, and in a shuddering breath, you grieved in his arms. Your tears burned stains into his skin, and in an instant, you felt new wetness that didn’t belong to you.

“No, no, no, don’t cry,” his voice cracked, and his hands shook as they cradled your face, “you can’t cry because of me.”

Then Minhyuk had cried too, until his eyes turned bloodshot and his throat was hoarse with heartbreak.

“I love you,” he sobbed, “I’m sorry I ended up hurting you, I’m sorry I wasn’t careful enough, I’m so sorry—”

“You were careful. You didn’t hurt me. Maybe, it just hurts to love, but I chose to love you regardless,” you kissed his watery eyelids and ignored the sting of fresh tears at the back of your eyes, “I know you’ve been hurting too. We did our best.”

The sound of his weeping heart rang in your ears. It didn’t want to let go, and in all the truths of the universe, neither did you. 

One of the truths deafened you to his pain, gripped your hand and forced you to go.

What you want isn’t always what you need, the truth had said, what he wants isn’t always what he needs.

Minhyuk had promised he would never hurt you, and it was you that made him a liar.

He loves me not.

You had blinked, and autumn arrived at your doorstep.

Your life seems even bleaker than when you first met him. Your vision is colourless and your eyes cannot adjust to the vibrancy of the warm tones of harvest. All you can think of are of wilted leaves, barren trees, and dying flowers that have been robbed of too much time.

The skies are thick with cloudy misery, and the mornings are starting to darken into longer nights. You hardly see sunlight on the sidewalk, nowadays.

Even if it’s somewhere else, you hope the sun is still shining.

He loves me.

You hope he’s alright. 

You hope the gaping wound you left him as a parting gift has healed.

He loves me not.

You hope he has his head held high and he’s found light and life in autumn.

He loves me.

(He deserves to be happy, more than anyone else.)

He loves me not—

Your fingers tremble.

There’s a single petal remaining, limply hanging on the flower in your hands.

He loves me.

Bitterness claws up your throat and you can’t help but smile dryly at the cruelness of the universe. Familiar wetness stings your eyes and you breathe away the urge to cry.

You’ve should’ve known better than to think just loving would be enough.

The petals scattered at your feet look like fragmented pieces of memories from your spring. You watch as the autumn breeze picks up and carries them away.

You crouch down and carelessly cover the flower and the lone petal with loose earth. You bury Minhyuk and his starry kisses and sunlit smiles. You bury the what ifs and the maybes and the it could have beens.

It doesn’t matter, anymore.

His shattered heart is already six feet under.

[el-borealis]

Whatever Floats Your Boat

Here is my Mileven Secret Santa for the lovely @midnightmillie! 

The prompt: “Whatever Floats Your Boat. Really, it’s okay.” Something taking place in summer. 

Stef, I hope you enjoy this summery, lake-side, word-nerdy fluff-fest! 

Read on AO3 

The chattering of Mike's friends filled the air around him. Their voices mixed with the sounds of lapping water and the birdsong that echoed from above. It all blended together in an oddly calming way, lulling Mike's mind into a state of rare and blissful quiet. Mike allowed his eyes to slip shut. He leaned his head back, took a deep breath, and stretched out his bare legs. The warm sunlight bathed his face with a hint of relief and a whisper of hope.

It was finally here. The first sensations of summer.

The tiny beach-like outcropping at the far end of Lover's Lake was the perfect place for such a day. Mrs. Byers said that the location had once been a popular spot for teens back in the 60s. Over the years, though, the makeshift trail had become overgrown, and thus it had been lost to the current generation of Hawkins High students. What remained was an almost impossible to detect inlet with a just-big-enough patch of sand, hidden from the rest of the lake by a crop of huge weeping willows. Lily pads and reeds crept from the water, creating an idyllic setting almost too perfect for the boring confines of Hawkins, Indiana.

The whole outing had been orchestrated by Mrs. Byers. Mike had heard her whispering persuasions to Hopper all throughout the spring. It had taken her weeks to convince Hopper to loosen the reins enough for just this single outing. And truly? It couldn't have come soon enough.

El had become increasingly lonely as the months had progressed. As the air had warmed and the world around them had awoken into spring, the rules of her seclusion had begun to break her spirit. It broke Mike's heart more than he cared to admit. For, there was only so much that a fourteen-year-old boy could do. Of course, he called her every single night. He smuggled her sweets and books and little hair accessories that he'd swiped from Nancy. He made sure to shoot Hopper snide looks whenever he drummed up the courage. More than anything, though, Mike worked as hard as he could to remind her (and himself) that this was all going to pass with time.

Mrs. Byers, though? She had been able to do more. And she had.

Mike made a mental note to thank her later, because on this day, surrounded by her friends and dappled in sunlight, El looked happy. Maybe that was why his brain was so blissfully quiet. Maybe it was the way the sun fell onto her, showcasing the golden flecks in her honey eyes in a way he had never seen before. Or, maybe it was the way her fingers lazily threaded through his in the sand, pumping his hand whenever she laughed at something that Max or Lucas said. Maybe it was her own words, spinning faster than Mike had ever heard her speak before, complete with a hint of confidence that was so incredibly hard earned.

Mike bit his teeth into his growing smile.

God, he was so proud of her.

He wished he could have recorded their very first talks, if only to play them back for her now. Sure, Mike still yammered for about 80% of their nightly talks, but increasingly, El had begun to add her own thoughts to the mix. Questions and answers, with opinions and jokes and ideas tossed in-between. El's unique sense of humor had materialized slowly throughout it all. She had a surprisingly dry and deadpan humor, one that always seemed to catch Mike off guard in the most delightful way. She had also shown herself to be highly opinionated, a trait only made more apparent as her vocabulary and confidence had grown. More than anything though, El was ceaselessly curious about the world. It was a trait they shared, and it made Mike's heart skip with hope for the potential of what could be.

Mike felt like he was unlocking El's personality piece by glorious piece, and he couldn't deny the effect it had on him. The tumbling feel that made him slip deeper and deeper into… a word even he didn't know how to say.

But that was a thought for another time...

Mike opened his eyes and shifted his gaze toward El once again. Her wavy hair was frizzy from the humidity. She had tied it half-up with a pink band that he had swiped for her from Nancy's room. She brushed some stray strands roughly from her face as she listened to Dustin drone on about a family of ducks on the other side of the shore.

After a moment, Dustin stood up and wiped his hands on his pants. He held his hand out to El.

"I'm going to go take a look at them," Dustin said. "Wanna come?"

"Um…" El stuttered, looking back at Mike for the first time in a few minutes. "I'll stay here. Is that… okay?"

Dustin shrugged, "Whatever floats your boat."

"Wh -"

Dustin waved his hand casually as he began to walk away, "Really, it's okay!"

Mike watched El curiously as El watched Dustin leave. That was when he saw it. The now familiar pattern. It played out like clockwork through her expressions. First, the sharp line appeared between her eyebrows. Then, she blinked three times in quick succession. Finally, her lips moved with no sound; the hints of fragmented words driving upon them.

Mike leaned close, "What is it?"

El twitched in surprise. She bit her lip and watched Dustin's retreating figure for another couple of seconds. She then turned slowly toward Mike. Her eyes were serious. Her voice, a low and worried whisper.

"M-mike," she stuttered. "I… I didn't bring a boat."

"...What?"

"He said I should… float my boat but…" her eyes snapped wide. "Was I supposed to bring a boat? I- I don't have a boat!"

"Oh!"

Mike worked fast to successfully bite back the laugh that shot to his lips so as to not embarrass her. "No, El. You don't need a boat. He um… That's just a phrase. Dustin said an idiom."

El stared at him blankly. "He's an idiot?"

Mike snorted, "Oh, he's definitely an idiot. But no. He said an idiom. It's like… a saying. They're phrases that don't really mean what the actual words mean. Like 'whatever floats your boat' means 'do whatever you want.'

El's eyes twinkled with instant annoyance. "He told me to float a boat. But... I'm not supposed to float a boat."

"Nope. You're just supposed to 'do what you want'."

"That is…" Her shoulders quickly dropped and she huffed. "That is stupid! He could say 'yes'. No more. Just 'yes'. But he told me to 'float a boat'?! That's… that's stupid! Words are so stupid, Mike."

It finally slipped. Mike could no longer contain his laughter. "You just said a whole lot of words about how dumb words are."

El's tense look softened in an instant. She ducked her head as the slightest pink rose into her cheeks. "I'm getting better, yeah?"

"Yeah!" Mike replied. He playfully bumped her shoulder. "Way better! That was almost a whole rant!"

El chuckled. Her dimples caught the sunlight as she looked at him with her perfect closed-lipped smile.

"Don't feel bad that you don't know these phrases, though," Mike added as he reached out for her hand. "You're right. They are stupid. It's just something you learn."

"It's just something you learn." El repeated back to him with a mocking tone.

"Hey!"

El giggled and shifted closer to Mike. "Tell me some other idiots."

"Idioms."

"Right. Idioms."

"Well…" Mike played with her fingers for a silent moment as he thought. "There's 'hold your horses'. That means to 'slow down' or 'don't get carried away'."

"Get carried away?"

Mike grimaced. "Shit, that's another idiom, isn't it? Yeah, I guess they both mean to slow down."

El rolled her eyes, "People could just say, 'slow down'."

"Oh! There's 'kick the bucket'! That means to die."

"WHAT?!" El yelped, her eyes blowing wide.

"Yeah... that one is really weird now that I think about it."

El burst into laughter. Free flowing, loud, unrestrained laughter. She latched onto his hand as she tried and failed to catch her breath. "That is… that is SO stupid!"

"It is…" Mike replied, giggles beginning to fill the space between his own words in a contagious manner. "That one is really stupid!"

El's laughter was joyous. Over the course of the next few seconds it took over her entire body. Her nose was scrunched and pink lips were turned upward. Her eyes were screwed tightly shut. Her fingers gripped tightly on his as she leaned over on herself and tried to catch her breath. She seemed so happy, so incredibly beautiful and perfectly at peace...

Mike's own laughter subsided. For, in that moment, an emotion so much stronger than amusement flooded through his body like an earthquake.

"Ooh, are you teaching El phrases?"

Mike jumped at the intruding voice. He looked up to find Max standing over them, a chip bag that had been by El's feet now in her hands.

El finally caught her breath and looked up toward their friend. "Idioms?" she said tentatively, trying the word on for size.

"I see…"

Max took a quick look at Mike. Her expression turned to one of devilish glee. Max bent down to eye-level and leaned in toward El. "I've got one for you, Ellie," Max said, her eyes flicking back on Mike before she said, "Head over heels."

"What's that?"

"I bet Wheeler would love to explain that one to you," she replied with a smirk. "Since he is. Completely. It's written all over his face right now. Have fun, Mike!"

Max patted Mike patronizingly on the knee and bounded instantly away.

"What does that mean?" El asked.

"Uh…"

"What?" El asked, her laughter gone, her gaze intent.

Mike made a mental note to kill Max later. For, El was staring at him with that look. That piercing gaze that Mike knew meant that El was expecting a full explanation. His tongue felt instantly dry.

"It's… It's when you really like someone," he stuttered, "Like... really like them? You like them so much you can't stop thinking about them and you could do like, flips? and stuff?"

"Flips?"

Mike's hand flamed so hot within El's grasp that he was sure it was going to burn her.

"Well, no. Not actually flips. But you feel like you could do flips when you look at them? Does that... does that make sense?"

"No."

Mike bit back a groan. "I guess… I'm uh… Okay..." he took a deep breath and tried to steady himself, "It's when your stomach feels all squirmy and your skin feels too tight and you can't stop thinking about them no matter how hard you try. Did I already say that part? Yeah, I did… I think… Uh…"

Mike's words died in an agonizing swallow.

El bit her lip. Yet, after a short moment, something seemed to dawn in her eyes. She broke into a timid smile.

"Like… like love?" she asked.

"Uh..."

"Yes?" She asked with firm nod.

"uh...yes." Mike confirmed, his breath short. "L-love. Yes."

El's hand then tightened on his. She smiled and ducked her eyes away.

"I'm…" El's stuttered. "I'm head over heels."

"You ARE?" Mike blurted so loudly the birds above them took flight.

El gazed up toward him slowly. The golden flecks in her eyes shined through her lashes. She nodded.

It was the last thing that Mike saw before he kissed her.

It was the only thing that Mike could think to do! Because words? Words were failing him here. Big time. The words were so real and so right and far too big for his young mouth to handle. How could he ever find the words to explain how he felt? How could he explain the fluttering in his chest or the sweat on his palms? How could he explain the constant barrage of goosebumps that ran up his neck when she touched his arm and said his name? Or the involuntary somersaults his stomach performed when she joked and laughed? How could he ever even begin to explain how his heart had expanded so much that it threatened to topple him over and throw him -

"- Head over heels," Mike gasped like a breath of fresh air against her lips. "Me too. Absolutely."

He braved to open his eyes then, shocked by his own outburst. Yet he needn't have been worried. For, the surge of warmth in El's eyes told him everything he needed to know.

El was quiet for a moment. She just looked at him. Her eyes wide, deep, floating. Her smile soft.

"Can I kiss you again?" Mike whispered.

She shrugged and said, with the lightest lilt, "Whatever floats your boat."

The laugh that cut through Mike's body was a sudden and glorious surprise.

"Did I use it right?" she asked excitedly, her eyes lighting up at his response.

"Yeah. Perfect!" Mike replied joyously, "Just… just.. per-"

His final word became lost between his smile, her giggle, and their firmly pressed lips.

Mike did not care about the fact that Hopper's eyes were definitely on them. He did not care that his friends were probably laughing under their breath just a few feet away. He did not care about the birdsong, or the lapping waves, or the summer sun. He only cared about the girl who's air he was sharing in that very moment.

Because Mike? Mike was truly… undeniably… irreversibly... head over heels for her.

[catherinerichardsonart]

Ozu: Film Maker, Tokyo Story

Tokyo Story isn't tragic, at least not in the desperate, almost melodramatic terms of Tokyo Twilight, yet it mostly lacks the sense of joy or quiet bliss that other Ozus employ to temper the weary wisdom. Indeed, at times it does border on bitterness or at least a kind of depressive despair. Perhaps for this reason, it is not really one of my favorite Ozus, so I often wonder how it achieved the status it did (I find Late Spring his most engaging and moving picture). It could just be some issue of timing, but I think there are some fundamental reasons: for one, the film's theme is more universal than other Ozus - because it's about neglecting parents rather than arranging marriage (something which hardly pertained in the West by mid-century).​ ​ Furthermore, Tokyo Story has a kind of starkness which makes it stand out in Ozu's body of work - a bleak focus on the situation that marks it out from the other movies with their mixtures of quiet and conviviality, tradition and modernity, cheerfulness and sorrow. The old couple (Chishu Ryu and Chieko Higashiyama) seem lost and withdrawn throughout, their situation worsening but not fundamentally different from their arrival at their son's house in the beginning. Their only moments of true happiness come with Noriko (Hara), who isn't even related to them by blood - she's the widow of their son, who died in the war. Yet both the couple and Noriko are marked as outsiders so even their enjoyment seems shadowed

It's as if the old couple, and perhaps Noriko as well, are trapped in the wrong movie. They believe in the values Ozu usually espouses, of acceptance and restraint and stoicism, while their children rush about restlessly, getting things done, and bluntly indulging their irritations and impulses. The oldest son, a doctor, has a no-nonsense bedside manner; he is never rude, but he is somewhat indifferent. The older daughter, a vain beautician, is rude - "frank" might be the term she would prefer; chatty and opinionated, she does not seem to have any inhibitions. The younger son is casually flaky, with a few good instincts which he overthrows at the first opportunity. The youngest daughter, the one who still lives at home has a good heart and is the only child who seems to really care about her parents but she is also naive and, in her own way, just as unrestrained as her siblings - as her bitter exchange with Noriko reveals.

Finally, the title of the film is notable in setting the tone and defining the mood: Tokyo Story - in other words a story not about the old values and traditions of the main characters, but the fast-paced, rather indifferent, modernizing and Westernizing world of the children. So even though we are with Shukishi and Tomi throughout (occasionally cutting away for elliptical revelations), we are as overwhelmed and frustrated as they are by the environment. This is one of the least harmonious Ozus I've seen, which is why it certainly is not archetypal (and perhaps why I find myself less attracted to it than others) but also why it is so interesting, why it stands out.

[muselin]

Behind Closed Doors - Chapter 4

If you’re an innocent cinnamon roll, avert your eyes ;)

* * *

I couldn’t believe this…. I was confused, furious. How dare he? How dare that bastard make a move on Dui… And Dui, he never acted so direct with me. The guilt threatened to swallow me whole. Dui never confided in me the way he had in Krioff just now, he’d never been so bold with me. The cruel voice inside me retorted that it was because I never let him. I took advantage of Dui, I never let him have a choice. I was supposed to help him but instead I suffocated him and took away his control until I broke him and Shadow Dui took retribution, while the real Dui ran away to someone else who actually did have his back and respected his right to a choice…

I couldn’t bear to watch the scene in front of me anymore. Dui was giving himself to someone other than me and it was the most painful thing I could ever imagine. It only made it worse that I had no right to confront him over it. I had no hold over him, we were nothing. Only memories of my failure to control my own lust when Dui sought me out because he needed a friend.

As quietly as I could, I walked away from Krioff’s door. My mind was in a haze, I was seeing red and at the same time being torn apart by grief. As I stumbled back along the halls towards the door back to the Heavens, it hit me. That’s why I couldn’t bear this. That’s why it hurt so much…

I was in love with Dui.

* * *

Krioff’s lips were insistent on Dui’s. Dui parted them and Krioff didn’t hesitate to let his tongue inside, twining with Dui’s.

“Mmf…”

The brown-haired god was being backed up towards Krioff’s sofa bed and he didn’t resist at all.

“Dui…,” Krioff’s voice came in a hoarse whisper as he broke the kiss to push Dui onto the bed. Their bodies hardly separated as the god of Aries covered Dui’s form with his, laying kisses down his neck, nipping occasionally.

Dui pulled Krioff back up and kissed him. He teased the silver-haired god’s tongue gently with his, nipping his lips and suckling on his bottom one. Krioff nearly growled.

“Shit, Dui…”

Dui’s kisses seemed to have lit a fire inside him and his ungloved right hand was starting to heat up as it reached for Dui’s uniform. The tie was loosened and thrown aside hastily, soon followed by two Punishments uniform jackets.

Krioff’s breaths were ragged as he sat up on his knees to undo the buttons on Dui’s shirt. As he got halfway, a pair of hands clasped his own, stopping him.

Krioff looked at Dui with confusion but the god of Gemini turned his face, unable to meet Krioff’s silver gaze. He let go of his hands. Puzzled, Krioff unbuttoned the last buttons and slowly spread the white shirt open. His eyes widened and his breath hitched.

His fingers traced along Dui’s collarbones, the base of his neck, his shoulders. Suddenly, the temperature in the room became freezing.

Bruises. Bite marks. The shapeless marks marred Dui’s skin, contrasting sharply with their angry purplish colour.

“Scorpio… What have you been doing to him…,” Krioff ground out in anger. The temperature of the room instantly shot up and the windows steamed up from the sweltering heat.

“Krioff, please,” Dui whispered.

The god of Aries ripped the shirt off Dui’s shoulders just as it caught fire in his right hand. The flames quickly turned the fabric black, disintegrating it before Dui’s wide eyes.

“He hurt you. I’ll beat the shit out of him,” Krioff growled in his rage.

<Krioff, it was my own decision. I let him do this, I can’t take it back.>

Krioff heard Dui in his mind.

“But I can’t just do nothing! You don’t deserve…,” his voice faltered in anger, “Dui, you don’t deserve to be used like this!”

Flames seemed to rage in his silver eyes.

<I’m not innocent and neither is my other self. Please, take a breath, get a hold of your power.>

Without another word, Krioff closed his eyes and tried to obey Dui’s telepathically delivered plea. He sat back on his heels and clasped his hands together, taking a deep breath. The god of Aries looked as if he was praying.

He felt a pair of cool hands over his clasped ones again and felt Dui’s soft lips ghosting over his eyelids.

“Please don’t lose yourself because of me,” Dui whispered, gently nudging Krioff backwards with his weight until the other god was forced to lay down on his back. Dui snapped his fingers and Krioff’s shirt slid out from under him.

Long, elegant fingers traced over Krioff’s broad, muscled torso and quieted the emotions raging within him. He unclasped his hands and pulled Dui down into a kiss, groaning at the feel of skin against his own.

Dui was deftly undoing his own belt and Krioff’s, his lips trailing down to leave warm kisses down Krioff’s neck. Quickly, Dui shoved Krioff’s uniform trousers down his muscular thighs. The god of Aries stopped caressing Dui’s back just long enough to snap his fingers and make his and Dui’s boots unlace and slip off.

Dui smiled in the crook of Krioff’s neck.

“So you’re impatient with absolutely everything,” he teased.

“Especially if it involves you naked,” Krioff rasped playfully and flipped their bodies around, pinning Dui beneath him once again. Silver eyes captivated soft brown ones, lust clouding both their gazes as Krioff slipped out of his trousers and slid Dui’s down and off his legs.

The rustle of fabric and skin against the material of the sofa was the only sound in the room until a surprised gasp escaped Dui’s lips.

Krioff’s lips were on his hipbones and his hands were caressing Dui’s chest.

“I waited for this for a long time, I could barely keep it together,” Krioff’s voice trailed off in a heated whisper.

“Mmm… Ah… Well… mmn… Now you don’t need to,” Dui managed between gasps. He couldn’t manage much more as he sucked in a sharp breath, feeling Krioff’s warm tongue slide over his cock.

Krioff licked him from base to tip, and within seconds the god of Gemini was completely hard and starting to become flushed. He buried his hands in Krioff’s hair, unsure whether he was pulling him in or wanting him to slow down.

Krioff looked up as he swirled his tongue around Dui’s tip, watching him writhe under his teasing.

The silver-haired god didn’t wait to be prompted and took Dui’s hard dick as far into his mouth as he could. A long, unrestrained moan rang in his ears and Krioff began to bob his head along Dui’s manhood, bringing his right hand down to stimulate him.

Dui’s features were contorted in pleasure as he relaxed into Krioff’s ministrations. Maybe it was because of all the stress he’d endured in the recent days or because his emotions had been running wild but this felt almost too good. He was already feeling the sweet tension in his hips and his muscles tensed.

“Mm… Krioff… That feels so good… Ahhh…”

Spurred on by Dui’s reactions, Krioff gripped his cock a bit harder and increased the pace of his hand and mouth, dragging his tongue along the base every time he came down on him. The temperature in the room was slowly rising again, making Dui’s heated skin feel the same as the air around him.

The god of Gemini watched his friend engulf his cock over and over. The sight aroused him almost too much, he didn’t want to cum yet so he closed his eyes, trying to drag out the blissful feeling a little longer.

Krioff brought down his other hand to play with Dui’s entrance while he switched to slower, deeper strokes. He massaged the tight ring of muscles slowly as he applied pressure and the effect was heard instantly in Dui’s loud moans. The brown-haired god was struggling for breath, writhing in pleasure under Krioff’s larger body.

Krioff swiped a bit of pre-cum off Dui’s tip and brought it to his entrance, spreading it around and he slowly started to push a finger inside him. He held his cock in his mouth, sucking on it all the while.

“Ohh… Aaahnn… Krioff…,” Dui was an incoherent mess, seeming to have entirely forgotten the late hour as he was moaning without restraint.

“You like that,” Krioff’s asked, his gruff voice even deeper than usual with the weight of the lust coursing in his mind.

“Mmm… yes… don’t stop..,” Dui pleaded breathlessly.

The god of Aries didn’t need to be told twice and he quickened the pace again, thrusting his finger in and out of Dui’s tight hole as he sucked and stroked his throbbing cock.

“Oh Heavens… you’re gonna make… I’m going to…,” Dui couldn’t get the words out, the pressure in his hips building and building, making him feel like he was almost going to explode.

“Just let go, cum in my mouth if you wanna,” Krioff whispered as he briefly let go of Dui’s erection.

“Nnng…,”

Dui was biting his lips, something in his body coiling and tightening like a spring. Krioff kept on sucking him and started gently hooking his finger against the spot inside Dui that he reckoned Dui might like.

“Fuck…,” Dui threw his head back, the pleasure building to a peak. He bucked his hips, feeling his cock hit the back of Krioff’s throat over and over along with the intense sensation of being stroked inside. Dui’s mind was clouded and he found he could think of nothing but the sweet pleasure assaulting his body.

Krioff’s movements became rougher, almost as if he was forcing the orgasm out of Dui, and as he gave him a few last hard strokes, the god of Gemini moaned his pleasure loudly. Dui’s impossibly hard cock twitched and throbbed, sending hot spurts down Krioff’s throat. Krioff’s gulped down Dui’s essence greedily, slowing down his movements as Dui’s body convulsed with the force of his orgasm.

“Hnn… Aaaahh… Yesss,” Dui hissed, his eyes shut tightly as he emptied himself in Krioff’s mouth. After a few moments the tension finally subsided and he breathed in deeply, over and over, trying to calm his racing heart.

In the same beat, Dui pulled Krioff over him roughly and claimed his lips in a passionate kiss. The feeling was foreign, but he wasn’t sure why.

His body felt so drained that he was struggling not to immediately fall asleep.

“I feel so heavy…,” Dui said, his light voice slightly hoarse.

“You don’t have to move if you don’t wanna,” Krioff said with a playful smile.

“Mmm… But we didn’t take care of you.”

“It’s okay. Later. Do you want to sleep?”

“Yeah… I’m sorry but it’s your fault. I don’t know why I feel so… safe…,” Dui mumbled as his eyes were closing.

Krioff looked at him with a tender expression. That’s all he’d wanted. To make Dui feel safe. He pressed a kiss to his shoulder and lay down next to him. He tried his best and ignored his own raging erection. There would be time for that.

As Dui was drifting off to sleep, a faint thought crossed his mind. Scorpio never kissed him after…

Dui’s consciousness gave way to sleep as he vaguely wondered why. Why?

***

<Why…>

I bolted upright.

It was faint but I knew I’d heard it. Dui’s voice in my mind. Why what??

I couldn’t think of Dui without remembering the image of him kissing Krioff. It was burned into my mind.

“Aaaargghhh!!”

I screamed in anger as I grabbed the chair I was sitting on and flung it across the room.

The harsh sound of glass shattering brought me to my senses as the chair flew clear out of the window and I heard it smash when it hit the ground outside.

I walked over to the broken window as I tried to calm myself in vain. Everything was coloured red by the first rays of the sun. I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the window. My eyes weren’t their usual black, they glowed menacingly red back at me. The sweat on my brow almost looked like blood.

The cool morning breeze was blowing into my room, cooling my skin. I breathed deeply and I felt the rage recede. Now it was only pain.

Pain… I picked up a shard of broken glass and drew it across my palm. I felt a faint sting and red blood seeped out. It was nothing. Nothing compared to what I felt inside. For once, it didn’t feel so empty. I so desperately wanted it to.