#; autumn leaves && apple blossom dreams || - {GENESIS} — s. giftofthegodess

[cultivatxr]

@giftofthegodess​ whispered: “This is true love, you think this happens every day?”

                                     ⚔ the princess bride sentence starters ⚔

❝Oh for sure. I know I’m blessed that I’ve managed to get you on a video call without a solid half hour of you checking you looked spectacular first. ❞ She can’t help the tease as it rolls from her lips, the warm tickle of laughter following suit as she stretched out atop a patchwork quilt and gazed all too fondly at the small screen before her. Their calls as of late have been few and far between, partly due to the demands of his vocation, and partly due to the inhospitable time difference - but they’ve found a way to make it work, at least in so much that Aerith is at least awake this time. 

Sprawled upon her stomach a work weary hand propped up her head, the soft and all too smitten extent of her affection carved into every curve and angle of her face. ❝ Credit where credit’s due though, — you’re not looking too shabby there Mr.Rhapsodos. ❞ It’s the smile that follows that gives her life, that flash of teeth and trademark wink forever breathing life into the butterflies that lay otherwise dormant in the pit of her stomach. She’s missed this. Missed him. 

❝It’s my natural disposition. That half hour is dedicated to toning down my look, so mere mortals don’t feel bad.❞The copper crowed SOLDIER retorts from the depths of his solitude, wry mirth warming his cheeks as he observed the object of his affections even from afar. Home. That’s what she represented and what warrants his undivided attention. Besides, if they’re doling out compliments, he can’t say it’s a particular hardship to be greeted by those undeniably kind eyes and ever tormenting lips. The worst part is almost certainly the inability to reach out and taste them. 

It’s definitely harder than Aerith thought it would be. Being this far apart. She’d only just started to know him; to memorise the intricacies of his likes and dislikes, forever tentatively exploring the very edges of his soul. She’s lucky she suspects, that she has this much at least. That even at opposing sides of the world she can still see his smile and hear his voice. It might not be quite the same as falling asleep on his shoulder, or smelling coffee on his breath first thing in the morning - but she’ll take it. So long as it’s not forever. 

❝I finished the book you sent me.❞ Idly her hand reached sideways for the tome in question, the dogeared pages well loved and well read as she waved it in front of her precariously balanced lifeline. ❝I particularly liked the fact you saw fit to stick four separate page markers into page 212’s vivid description of adventures in a bubble bath. Nice to know you’ve not lost your subtlety there,  ❞ Although she could hardly blame him. Considering all Genesis was having to put up with, the man had definitely earned himself a long soak, amongst other things. 

❝I promise when you get back there’ll be a bath bomb with your name on it.❞ A really nice one too. Maybe something strawberry? A little sweet, a little tart, something to turn the water a milky pink and drown out the aches and sorrows of those bones wrought of war. Or better yet, maybe it’s not the water but her he craves, the tenderness of hands that know how to massage out each and every knot; the enveloping warmth of welcoming arms that would offer neither chastisement nor judgement - just simple, unassuming comfort. 

❝ I miss you.❞ Free from subtlety and pretence; she’s earnest in her admission, her fingers grazing her mouth before pressing themselves to the glowing remnants the screen. She doesn’t know what else to say to him. She just wants to exist, right there and then, in the same space and breathing the same air, the same quiet intimacy of a shared future. A shared life. 

❝ I know, blossom. I miss you too. ❞

[cultivatxr]

@giftofthegodess​ whispered: ❛ You cannot change the world on an empty stomach. ❜ - He slips the apple seemingly out of thin air before tossing her the fruit.

She ought to be grateful that he cares so much. That the voice of reason will forever be motherhenning her into taking better care of herself while she stands alone as the bastion for planetary change. But it’s hard to pay too much attention to the sentiment when she’s more interested in learning precisely when the SOLDIER in question had perfected the art of materialising fruit out of thin air. Or how, in the past six months, she hadn’t once noticed that he was, in fact - something akin to a walking fruit bowl.

“I bet you’re a real hoot at border control.” Catching the apple before it had a chance to acquaint itself with the floor, the brunette teased with a wry crinkle of her nose. “ ‘Anything to declare? Why yes, just this complimentary fruit basket I happen to have stashed about my person. ‘ ” Amusement wove it’s way up ivory cheeks as Aerith grinned, a faint smattering of pink blossoming across her features as she took a bite of the fruit in question, grateful for its long overdue sustenance. Maybe he had a point. She had been burning the candle at both ends as of late.

“I’m going to have to start frisking you any time I need a snack.” Blasély the ancient teased again, sticky Banoran sweetness lingering on her tongue as she took another bite. It’s a thankyou in it’s own roundabout way, verdant eyes conveying both affection and earnest appreciation alike under the balmy glow of an artificial sun. She doesn’t protest when he invades her space. Nor does she shy away from the quiet press of poetic lips to the creamy skin of her temple as the Genesis she knows all too well, reaffirms his pride with enough confidence she can’t help but giggle. 

“ Blossom, I am the snack.” 

[cultivatxr]

@giftofthegodess​ whispered: ❛❛ You have come here, for one purpose & one alone. ❜❜

The Phantom Of The Opera — Broadway {Sentence Starters} || -  [  Accepting! ]

“Am I that transparent?” From a cross legged recline, Aerith couldn’t hide the grin that crossed her face, the lopsided curve of contented amusement all too easy in the presence of her new companion. He made it sound so mercenary in the end, as if she didn’t also enjoy his company just a little more than either of them would willingly admit. “I’ll admit it. I came for the library.”  The lure of books had been unmistakable. The promise of so many unexplored pages waiting to steal her away to lands untold, tugging at her mind from the first moment he’d even uttered it in passing. 

“But I stayed for the snacks.” Her nose crinkled ruefully, half truth and half tease wrought in the levity of her words. In all honesty, she was there for the conversation. For the company of someone that seemed to speak directly to her very soul with a level of shared kinship and investment in the overly poetic romanticism of art. Give her theatre any day, give her sonnets and opera, romantic tragedies carved from deeper rooted philosophy, pages upon pages of thought and sentiment, interwoven together until all that was left was art in its purest form. It was the closest thing to culture she was ever going to taste, the most benevolent and precious of gifts exchanged whether he realised it or not. 

Chin propped lazily against her hand, emerald eyes watched Genesis with increasing candour, all too introspective in her gentle consumption of this new and foreign life. To be granted sanctuary within someone’s home would always be a personal thing, the access to unfamiliar walls a simple but implicit sign of trust. The ancient was honoured, for lack of a better term, too content to lose herself to this small slice of prolonged joy. “And maybe, just a little for the company.” Aerith hummed, the inadvertent stoke to the redhead’s ego sufficiently vague as she made herself a little more comfy atop her carpeted vantage point. 

The floor had simply seemed the comfiest place to settle, the beckoning warmth and luxury of space addictively welcoming. “So c’mon Freckle, enlighten me.” Her hand pat the space beside her, a wordless invitation to park his tush and talk to her a little more freely. She wanted to know everything. Wanted to know his innermost secrets and most beloved stories, to find a new kind of truth in the sound of his voice and lose herself in it. “What have you been reading?” 

[cultivatxr]

@giftofthegodess​ whispered: Flop. The ginger entraps her under his body. He doesn't crush her, but he knows she'll be stuck under his weight. "This is comfortable." - well, for him at least with his face in the crook of her neck just relaxing. But for Aerith? Perhaps not quite so much. At least he allowed her to wriggle and make herself cosier in his embrace.

Despite lamenting his absence all week; this wasn’t exactly what she’d meant when she said she’d missed his presence. Like a stealthy cat, he’d managed to appear from nowhere, half wished into existence and invading her space. The book in hand soon lay forgotten, the soothing reminder of companionable weight half squishing Aerith where she sat, sofa cushion tucked beneath her head, with very little room for manoeuvrability. “Speak for yourself.” It’s both derisive and amused, a light hearted protest issued amidst gentle teasing as petite limbs squirmed, shuffling and wriggling, trying to find herself a new cozy spot in her Genesis shaped entrapment.

Aside from the potential for a dead arm; it was admittedly nice to curl up with him again. To feel the persistent nudge of his face against her neck; and the pull of strong arms as they snaked around her middle. It’s not really a grand hardship to be honest, and even if he had crushed her, there were definitely worse ways to go. ‘Death by an affectionate Freckle’ even had quite the poetic ring to it. The thought alone was worth the unmistakable flicker of a smile.

Wiggling a solitary limb loose, gently her fingertips traced the line of the redhead’s arm, soothingly complacent as they strummed back and forth, content in the security of his hold. “It’s always reassuring to know that if the floristry doesn’t pan out, I have a budding career as your own personal pillow waiting for me. ” Tilting her head as much as their position would allow, faintly her lips grazed the edge of his jaw, a humbling surrender to this little slice of domestic bliss. “I hear the perks are quite lucrative - even if the boss is awfully demanding.”

[cultivatxr]

@giftofthegodess​ whispered: silence. 

nsfw prompt list || our muses having to keep down during sex.

Laughter lingered in the balmy evening air, the melody of young love flourishing in the wake of earlier frivolity. She could’ve just said goodnight and been on her way; but there had been so much promise in the sway of hips and the deviancy of a smile, it would be rude to just abandon him. And so the impulse had been born, a beckoning finger having  lured him in and led him, like a piper from the bright lights of a dancefloor and out into the streets of Midgar. It wasn’t something she made a habit of, but there was a time for spontaneity and this was apparently it.

Fingers intertwined against the warm sanctuary of a palm, Aerith had led him home; barely checked carnality residing in the slew of open mouthed kisses upon her doorstep, hands knotting in strands of copper while she’d tried so hard to stifle the breathless amusement that had ensued. Gaia, she was happy. Intoxicated and high on his heady mix of love and distraction. “Shhhh.” She warned with a finger to her lips, hoping to avoid waking her mother and explaining this irritatingly handsome house guest as she led him inside and stumbled into her own umbrella stand in the process.

“You’re the one making the noise, love.” It’s a purr against her neck and she can’t even argue, teeth biting down into her lip to stop the giggle that wants to ripple forth. Her hand tugged his own, footsteps measured and well practiced to avoid creaking floorboards as she leads her beloved Freckle up the staircase, with an expression that is far more mischievous than it ought to be. She’s almost sorry he’s not getting the full house tour, although perhaps a little glad too that the blanketing shroud of darkness has masked a multitude of cluttered sins.

It isn’t a long journey and yet it feels like an age, seconds stretching into what feels like days until the door of her bedroom can safely click closed behind them and usher the redhead into her own little piece of the world. It’s all down hill from there; restraint forgotten in a flurry of hands and lips, clothes shirked off beneath wandering digits and scattering themselves across a darkened floor. As frantic as it is frenetic, her mouth claimed his throat, nipping at tender flesh, marking out all the promises she’d made earlier in the evening, until he returned the favour.

It’s carnality plain and simple; when Genesis snaked his arms beneath her thighs and hoisted her up, legs encircling his waist with a hitch of breath that was unexpectedly sinful. The feel of him was dizzyingly addictive; the warmth of his skin, the sturdiness of his chest, the insistent hardness pressing just shy of where she’d very much like him to be. It was maddening - and he knew it.  

Their eyes locked briefly, even beneath the inky shroud of her unlit room; vibrant green drowning in storm flecked blue to affirm consent before everything becomes a sordid blur. There was never really any doubt, but there’s an understanding there, a mutual respect and consideration underpinning the more provocative of actions. The act warranted a kiss, something drawn out and sensual, tongue probing, exploring the intricate caverns of an overly dramatic mouth until her backside met with the cold grain of a paper strewn desk.

Aerith had barely realised they were moving until she was there; rolled her eyes too at the complete disregard for her bed some six feet away, but there was excitement in the spontaneity, something distinctly Freckle about it too, although she didn’t have much time to tell him. Groping sideways for her bedside lamp, soon the room was awash with a muted yellow, light casting streaks of shadow across his toned musculature and her own corresponding curves. Yet it was a magazine that had served to distract, smug amusement stretching far and wide across the First’s face at the image of himself daubed on the cover of Firaga, the resident gossip rag, just shy of their position.

“Think about me a lot in your bedroom, do you?” The tease was inevitable, the barest hint of a whisper against her skin accompanied by an intrepid hand sliding between her legs. “About these hands…” His mouth found her neck. “…and this mouth…”   It earned him a smack. Or rather a stuffed panda to the head, as it’s all she can reach, but there’s no denial in it, just the subtle arch into his touch and half stifled laughter against his shoulder. It’s all it takes in the end, flirtation paving the way to action as hands had seized her hips, drawing her down onto his throbbing length in a single fluid motion.

Lips part in a satisfying ‘oh’, nails clamouring at his shoulders as the flower girl leant back, tugging him with her in a tangle of warm limbs and lust strewn debauchery. It takes more effort than she’d like to bite back the sounds he conjures, his body playing her own like a harp with every well timed thrust. Aerith’s breath falls in delicate pants, chest rising and falling, until the beginnings of a moan part her lips and she has to bite down to stop it, red blooming across her own flesh in a sanguine smear.

The salve to her own self inflicted injury came in the form of a kiss, a soft and tender thing amidst such lubricity; but it was also a mouth to muffle her moans as he continues to conjure them, the rhythmic rock of his hips remarkably soundless, all too well practiced in the art of covert affection. The thought made the ancient blush, pelvis rising to meet him, to deepen that connection and edge closer to a release. Knotting her fingers in strands of vivid copper absentmindedly, there’s no hiding the moment it hits, her tug suddenly involuntarily sharp as her back arched and she clenched around him, wordless prayers sung against his lips in a connection forged of tongue and teeth.

In the throes of an orgasmic haze, her arms slackened against him, fingers splayed across his back, holding him there, so intimately connected as Genesis sought his own release. Ever obliging, the brunette rolled her hips, rising to meet him as much as their position would allow, coaxing out a hard won degree of mutual satisfaction until at last she could feel the tension ebb and the warm glow of post coital contentment danced across freckle strewn cheeks. Aerith exhaled as he withdrew, trailing sticky life down her thigh as a lofty sigh ensued. She shouldn’t pout at his absence, but it was inevitable, an unconscious act, forged from the sudden loss of contact in a way that was so intimately vulnerable it held a meaning that transcended mere carnality.

The pout warranted another kiss; a blessing of lips far more sedate than all that had come before. Maybe it was a come down, but it was still enjoyable, still cherished and pivotal even in the wake of such an improvised high. Coiling his arms around the brunette’s form, the redhead stepped back, tugging her with him towards the softer promise of a mattress, plushies unceremoniously knocked to the floor to make room for them both beneath a patchwork shroud. There was only one thing left for it; fingertips dancing up and down a bare arm, heralding sleep in a sweat slicked tangle of limbs as he became a defacto pillow.

He’d definitely slept in worse places and with worse company; and while the occasional mouthful of curls nearly strangling him had proven to be a small health hazard, there was something sweet about the tranquility of falling asleep with someone in his arms. Particularly when that someone had stolen his heart from his chest the very first moment they’d met and was now a welcome dose of sunlight in a sea of clouds. For a good five hours he’d managed to stay like that, nose pressed to the slope of a creamy neck, his own eyes closed and content in this, the most innocuous of pastimes. Yet like any good thing, it couldn’t last forever.

As the sun began to creep across the horizon and birds began their incessant cheep, Genesis stirred, a quiet kiss blessing a sleepy temple, as he pried himself from their contortion worthy sleeping arrangement. “Blossom, where’s the bathroom?”  Without cracking open an eye, Aerith gestured vaguely sideways, her face buried in the pillow as she mumbled her own response. “Second door on the left.”

Resisting the urge to chuckle, the auburn soldier rose to his feet, eyes scanning the room for something to lessen the likelihood of streaking through the unfamiliar house. While he certainly had no problem with displays of nudity; there was still an element of good manners to be had while occupying someone else’s space. Besides, there was an awfully tempting looking bath robe just begging to be modelled for his sleepy-headed paramour.

And so it went, the famed and revered Genesis Rhapsodos, clad in a fuzzy lilac robe that didn’t strictly cover all that much, had emerged from the recesses of a flower girl’s bedroom, after a night of being magnanimously and dare he say it, diligently discreet only to come face to face with the stern and unyielding face of her mother. A lesser man might’ve panicked. Might’ve dropped everything and simply run; but where was the sense in that? He may as well own it. Sheepishly the first grinned, hand rubbing at the back of his neck as he ignored the glaring daggers being burned into his soul.

“Good Morning; where’s your coffee maker?”

[cultivatxr]

@giftofthegodess​ whispered: “It was almost like a dream. ‘Oh. I’m not waking up. Why aren’t I waking up?’ I thought. That feeling never ended. It still hasn’t ended.” How could it when the abomination of feathers lingered behind him, sprouting in a double arch from his own back...

She knows they’d promised to tell each other everything. That even if it took a lifetime, they’d keep no more secrets and tell no fettered lies. But it still takes her aback when he says it all the same; when bravado lay forgotten and Genesis himself is suddenly raw and painfully vulnerable. Aerith doesn’t judge him for it, nor does she push before he’s ready, instead she simply sits, cross legged at the foot of the bed, listening and waiting, allowing him the freedom to formulate his thoughts and give rise to whatever words can best convey the dark spectre of a cloud that continues to haunt him. 

The ancient can’t imagine what it’s like; not truly. She understands being different and feeling outcast; understands being poked and prodded, the very essence of yourself slowly stripped away piece by piece - but she’s never had wings. Never had something so profound nor unusual burst forth from her skin in a mess of blood, feather and bone. The fear must’ve been indescribable, the confusion too at the waking embodiment of a nightmare from which there was no escape - but he was still here now wasn’t he? He was still living, still surviving, he just happened to have a very unusual new biological quirk. 

Waiting for the redhead to finish his lament, Aerith tilted her head, quiet words of comfort toppling forth from her lips as she did her best to bestow comfort upon her paramour. “You know, some of the best things in the world have wings. And definitely all my favourite ones. Birds, bees, butterflies, dragons. You’re in good company.” Maybe it isn’t quite what he needs to hear, but she’s trying. An earnest smile dripped with conviction as she reached for his hand, the subtle curl of her digits around warm flesh grounding and soothing as she gave them a tentative squeeze. 

“I know I don’t know what it’s like, Gen. And I know I can’t pretend that I do - but I do know you. And if it’s a part of you, whether you want it or not, it’s as precious to me as this hand that I’m holding.” Another squeeze and she’s scooting closer, the soothing weight of her palm upon his shoulder, sliding back and forth along his bicep in as placating a gesture as she can muster. It takes more willpower than she’d admit, not to reach out and touch it. To trail her fingertips over that unfamiliar black plumage and acknowledge, in the most tangible way, that it was merely an extension of himself. “You don’t have to like it. It’s okay if you don’t. But I’ll be sure to love it extra hard until you do, regardless.” Her mouth grazed his shoulder, the faintest of caresses blessing bare flesh as she sought out the SOLDIER’s sky hued gaze and leafed a languid touch through those vibrant copper strands. 

“Wing or no wing; you’ll still always be you.” 

[cultivatxr]

This is a small but obligatory dose of seasonal sappiness for @giftofthegodess​ to mark our ridiculous post milestone tradition. The original prompt was: Pumpkin spice, soup, bonfires and snuggling. ♥

It’s the happiest she’d ever seen him; bathed in the dancing light of a roaring bonfire, fire materia in hand to cleave trails of animated radiance through the inky pitch of night. He was in his element,  swathes of children clustered around him, wide eyed with wonder over such a spectacular and magical thing. From her blanketed vantage point, Aerith couldn’t hide her smile, her knees drawn up to her chest as she watched, equally mesmerised at the weight that had been lifted from once overburdened shoulders. He looked so much more like himself again, more Freckle than General - so suddenly free and once again thriving. The sight alone, warmed her soul.

It was ironic really, (but not at all surprising) that they’d come all the way out to Banora to see his family and watch the fireworks, and yet there she was, spending more time gazing doe eyed at her auburn paramour than paying the least bit of attention to the scattered showers of sparks overhead. He just naturally drew the eye, especially when accompanied by so many squeals of laughter and delight. It had to be said, it wasn’t long before the brunette was joining them, the occasional cheer parting her lips as she applauded his fiery artistry, encouraging as much as it was appreciating, the effort and skill of his work.

The spectacle continued for a good half hour, before those tiny fans had scuttled back to their parents, babbling away excitedly about the famous Genesis Rhapsodos and his magical fire wielding ways. As much as she loved their enthusiasm, she was grateful for his return and for the soothing presence that had sauntered so casually back into her midst. Raising the edge of her blanket invitingly, the copper crowned first had needed no further prompting to drop down beside her and burrow in accordingly, the warmth of his arms ensnaring her smaller frame as he sought to preserve their dwindling heat.

She could still smell the pumpkin spice on him, the seasonal sweetness lingering in the shared proximity as a familiar chin settled upon her shoulder, nose nudging fondly at a neck that was all too warm. It’s strangely soothing, so blissfully normal given the lives they usually lead. “Having fun?” Aerith mused, her gaze trailing skywards to where colour now dotted the night sky, a kaleidoscope of dazzling jewel tones painting stories across such a darkened canvas. You wouldn’t get this in Midgar, at least not below the plate. You were lucky enough to see the stars let alone something quite so visually stunning.

“Always.” Came the quiet reply, the ghost of a kiss pressed to a creamy temple as icy blues drifted upwards towards the heavens. He’d forgotten how nostalgic this place could be in the right company, memories of misspent youth curling at the corners of his lips as he smiled into a cascade of curls. Arms tightened, the cozy cocoon of protective intimacy enshrined in the shuffle of a blanket and the soft but wistful sigh that came from rosy, but wind chapped lips.

They were happy. They were healthy. They were home.

[cultivatxr]

@giftofthegodess​ whispered: “Hey, wake up. You keep talking in your sleep.”

She hadn’t meant to fall asleep on his shoulder; lured into a dreamy sanctuary by an ever addictive voice, but he’d been so comfy and delightfully warm. How could she resist the relaxing comfort of something so unmistakably calm? He really ought to have woken her hours ago, instead of letting her utilise his arm as a makeshift pillow, a splay of curls cascading across his bicep in her utterly contented slumber. Aerith looked happy at least, ( or perhaps merely less mischievous than usual), the gentle rise and fall of her chest slow and controlled, a hypnotic weight so perfectly slotted against the sanctuary of his torso. They were merely friends, yet it felt like she belonged there. A home from home so easily found in the company of someone so new and yet unmistakably familiar. 

The mumbled speech had been unplanned too; a testament to the level of slumber the ancient had found herself in. It wasn’t completely damning, as she’d talked about gardens and some floral paradise that existed only in her mind, but she could’ve perhaps done without the running monologue about how cute her new freckled friend was and indeed, how it pained her to have to go home to the land of so few books. All in all, it was actually rather wholesome, but still entirely private and closely guarded, like tiny innocuous secrets toppling unbidden from her mouth. 

At Genesis’ behest, the brunette had stirred, a subconscious shuffle seeing her slide down his shoulder as one eye cracked open, followed in turn by another. From her leisurely recline, those emerald eyes had peered on upwards, half lidden as her back arched in a small but overdue stretch. “…hmm? what was I even saying? Hopefully nothing incriminating.” 

[cultivatxr]

She thought he was still asleep, with the blankets tossled and the sheet only half covering his chest as he lay strewn on the bed. His breathing matched that of his slumber and he gave no sign that he was otherwise awake... Even when she got curious.

He looked dormant enough when she’d emerged from the bathroom, borrowed dress shirt barely skimming the back of her thighs. It was a strangely contented sight, like something from a postcard, all scattered light and shadows thrown across the sharp angle of lean muscle. Her footfalls were careful with no intent to wake, mattress dipping ever so slightly beneath the weight of her knees as she clambered in beside him, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest as if it were the answer to all the world’s ills. “He sleeps.” Aerith mused aloud in a restrained whisper, torso shifting forwards to allow her the proximity to brush auburn locks from an entirely tranquil face. How did she ever get so lucky?

The thought lingered as she smiled despite herself, her body leaning in to graze her mouth over his temple, soft and ethereal much like the girl that offered it. Another touch followed, this time to his cheek, before hesitation set in, a momentary pause in her own self indulgence as she attempted to resist the impulse, but the lure was too great. Lips met lips in a tender exchange, something meant to be fleeting and wholesome - a goodnight kiss in which she could see herself off safely to sleep. But the first had been playing possum with her; icy blue eyes snapping open mid kiss to leave her retreating with a sheepish look of embarrassment.

The ancient balked as Genesis pushed himself upright, colour bleeding into her cheeks as he watched with an unreadable expression. “I—” She was ready to explain, to justify her misdemeanour, but his mouth cut her off, hands snaking into her voluminous curls and drawing her in; shared breath and carnality replacing all sedate sweetness she had been trying to gift. If kisses could talk, they’d sing a song of desire, a melody of lust and wanton need - played out in notes of tongue and teeth. She doesn’t fight it, doesn’t resist that heated impulse prickling behind her navel, arms winding around his shoulders to usher him closer, to indulge in the poetry he so often quoted and guide them both to the beginnings of bliss.

For once, Aerith was the one to instigate; to sling a silken thigh over the cradle of his hips and sit there as if it were a throne. She’s emboldened by his company, a brazen seductress hidden amidst tentative movements and saccharine kisses. Breaking from his mouth her own ventured to his throat, open mouthed and heady, fingers carding in handfuls of auburn, tugging, insistent and urgent. He didn’t need the encouragement, thumbs digging into the flesh of her hips as sheets and clothes were cast asunder, tumescent length pressed against welcoming warmth, beckoning like a siren song.

Lips parted in an audible gasp when at last she slid down on him slowly; stretched and filled in the most intimate of ways. Thereafter it’s a tangle of limbs and rhythmic hips, palms splayed across broad shoulders, nails scratching involuntarily, as subtle moans muffled themselves into the skin of his neck, his jaw - a half purred mantra stifled against the welcoming cavern of a sinfully poetic mouth. More, more, more. It’s not her first rodeo, but it’s arguably the best ride, breath falling in staccato notes, heart beat more erratic with every sordid roll of her pelvis, creeping closer to that delectable precipice.

The redhead skews the game before she can get there; body rolling to pin her to the mattress and resume his role as dominant participant, mischief alight in pale azure eyes. Aerith was ready to protest, but the words died on suitably flushed lips when she realised the ploy. When she could feel him reaching deeper, harder. The angle change was everything. Quiet moans grew steadily louder; back arching in order to meet him, sweat slicked and breathless, urging him on with the bounce of a heel against his back and a face that was so painstakingly dishevelled, it was practically lewd.

She didn’t last much longer after that; head thrown back and toes curling as inner walls clenched in euphoric bliss, his true name a hallowed prayer toppling from her mouth. Mercifully not freckle, she would remind herself later, but… “Gen!” Fingertips sought out his hair once more, to tug him down to greet her mouth and seal it with a grateful and affectionate kiss; carnality subdued but not diminished as she raised her hips again to meet his own, to usher in his own finale in a few more self indulgent thrusts. She’s blessed by the goddess twice more before he joins her, body milking out the last of his release with a dizzying and body tingling degree of sated contentment.

It’s only in the calm after, that she thinks to thank him; when the lustful interlude has long since passed, and it’s nothing more than lazy intimacy heightened by skin to skin. Aerith’s digits ghost along the arm that entwines her, still bathing in the glorious afterglow of dreamy, unpredictable sex. She knows better than to say what she’s really thinking. Lets the silent I love you, stay where it belongs, tucked away in the deepest depths of an overly romantic heart. But she can gift him with something more wry, something more lighthearted and fitting for who and what they are. “…so….” She begins, head turning to press a kiss to his pectoral. “…same time tomorrow?”  

[cultivatxr]

His ungloved hand brushed down her face starting from her forehead. Fingers trailed light across tender peach-soft skin, temple and down behind her parted fringe, seeking the edge of her jaw. He followed its line until his hand rested under her chin. Leaning in, he pressed their foreheads together, half-lidded icy blue eyes seeking permission in hers. His lips lingered as they shared breath before seeking hers. It was pleasant, chaste and innocent, but heartfelt. Home. “My most beloved orchard.”

She didn’t even ask the how and the why anymore; when he arrived so unexpectedly to bestow unbidden affection. It’s like he just somehow knows what she needs and how she needs it; a sort of sixth sense as to when to deliver such a spontaneous and heartfelt surprise. The day had been too long and her muscles ached, but the kindest balm came in the form of a familiar touch, ghosting like a Summer breeze down the side of her face and drawing them together. Forehead to forehead would’ve been enough; just the comfort of proximity to take away the edge of isolation - but he gifted her with far more indulgent an offering - a blessing from the goddess herself in the form of a sedate, but no less romantic kiss.

My most beloved orchard.

“Lover only to the sun; forever awed and content to bask in his hazy warm glow.” The saccharine words were those of a girl so clearly smitten; poetic to nobody save themselves. It was enough to make her smile, to let the warm touch of contentment weave it’s way up creamy cheeks as her arms entombed the redhead’s taller form and held him there, unmoving like a force of nature. Aerith could feel his heartbeat against her own, that steady soothing drum a calming anchor until at last she laughed; light and melodic at the tooth achingly cliché display of adoration. “We’re going soft.” She mused, head tilting upwards to kiss the underside of her paramour’s chin.

And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

[cultivatxr]

  @giftofthegodess​​ whispered: “You deserve more than I could ever give you.”                                   [ misc prompts for your feels - accepting !! ]

Rejection. That’s what this is. It’s not the first time; nor will it be the last - but she’d be lying if she said it didn’t hurt. It’s her own fault for falling too hard; for foolishly placing her hope and trust in someone that just like everyone else, had only served to disappoint. Was it love? Did it even matter anymore? It’s not as if he was offering a solution. He was just keeping her at arm’s length, pushing her away despite weeks of behaviour to the contrary. Was she just a game? Some idle plaything to have passed the time until he got bored? The doubt sits like bile in her mouth, discomfort wrought from spurned affection as it festers within her bones. He said she deserved more, and she wanted to punch him. Wanted to wring that damnably pale neck and shake the sense right back into him.

“I never asked for more.” Aerith sounded out quietly, eyes trained on her own boots, scuffing them into the dirt as her jaw tensed and her lip trembled. He wasn’t worth her tears, wasn’t worth the stabbing ache somewhere beneath her ribs. “I never even wanted it.” Bright eyes squeezed shut, fingers furling inwards, carving tiny crescent shaped indentations into the softness of her palm. It’s an act of defiance if nothing else, some attempt at maintaining control of what he’s capable of making her feel - but it does little to stop the trickle of liquid misery from her eyes, slow and solitary as it meanders down her cheek. “You were enough.”

It’s all too vulnerable an admission, a wounded heart laid bare and pledged in wordless offering, only for it to have been cast aside, discarded and forgotten with some misguided notion of chivalry. Why did so many people seem compelled to keep telling her what she did and didn’t deserve? Why was it anyone else’s business the choices she made so long as she was happy? Something within the flower girl steeled, eyes opening, still wet with emotion as she finally deigned to look at him with a frustrated exhale. “But you’re right, Freckle. I do deserve more. I deserve someone that for one second thought to actually ask me what I wanted without dictating what I do and don’t deserve. This is my life. My choice.”

Her hands found his coat, grip tight against once familiar fabric as she tugged him down to eye level, pools of liquid emerald glistening with overwrought emotion. Why did he have to make this so difficult? Why did he have to bring doubt and decay into something that had been so brimming with hope? In conflicted proximity the brunette lingered, simultaneously hesitant but determined, until at last the impulse gave way and she kissed the damnable bastard as if it were her last.

“So for Gaia’s sake, let me choose you.”

[cultivatxr]

@giftofthegodess​ whispered: 💋 - Sof

                  Send 💋 if your muse wants a kiss from mine || - [ Always accepting! ]

It’s the third time in as many months, that Aerith had been stood on that dingy train platform, nails nervously poised beneath her teeth as she gnawed at them out of a misguided habit. She always hated the waiting. Hated the uncertainty that came with any return from some far flung conflict; ever aware that there was always the faint possibility that one day, Genesis might simply not come back. It was a nonsensical thought, at least today - he’d been sending her photos for the past week of him engaging in prank warfare with Angeal, and so, barring any fatality inflicted upon him by his so called friend, there was no real cause to worry. But still she squirmed, uncomfortably on edge, waiting for the familiar screech of steel upon steel, to herald his return.

It feels like an age stood in isolation; the bustle of people around her fading into the background, conversations ebbing and flowing like the rise and fall of an ever changing tide. But before long, that rapid clickety clack was rattling in her head and shuddering to a halt; crowds of people emerging from metallic walls in wave upon wave, of animated reconciliation. For the briefest of moments, Aerith could feel her heart sink at the lack of the redhead’s presence, the hollow feeling of dread knotting in her stomach as her eyes scanned the doorways, skittering through the crowd for a sign of that freckled heart throb she’d come to know so very well.

Panic tightened in her chest, emerald gaze wounded, frantic, until at last that sea of strangers parted and she could settle her gaze on a body draped in familiar red leather. There was barely a beat before her feet set in motion, footfalls urgent as calculated steps shifted at breakneck speed from a walk and into a run. It’s not the most dignified of greetings, but it’s heartfelt and raw when her arms throw themselves around broad shoulders, toes straining as she teetered on tiptoes to bless long absent lips with a kiss that said far more than it needed to.

The relief is palpable; but so too is the affection, the soft caress of rosy pink against weather chapped mauve, slow and deep and unmistakably enduring. It’s a kiss that lingers until she can no longer breathe, the taste of home so rife on her lips as Aerith came back up for air, misty eyed, but unmistakably happy. Her hold doesn’t relent, even in the calm that follows, the steady peppering of kisses across neck and cheek alike encompassing all of her worries and assuaging each in turn.

“Welcome home, Freckle.”

[cultivatxr]

@giftofthegodess​ whispered: “I see you. I know you feel so invisible all the time. But you’re not. Not to me.” 

She was out of her depth in a room swimming with people; the faint ripple of excitement bubbling amidst so many suits and gowns. It was a far cry from what she expected a SOLDIER’s duties to entail; but she supposed it made sense. There was a public image to maintain, a kind of theatrical need to foster support and funds through the medium of charismatic charm. It was something she knew for a fact that Genesis excelled at - but she was there for moral support all the same. They had only briefly touched upon the war in passing, but there was no mistaking the way it had haunted him, lingering like a shadow seldom acknowledged. Aerith had hoped her presence would offer some balm for what ailed him, even if only to see a friendly face amidst the crowd that had so eagerly awaited the returning victors. Someone that had seen his truth, even when wrapped up in a company mandated lie.

When he took to the stage alongside his comrades, she was one of the first to stop and listen, her fingers outstretched in a tentative wave - reluctant but earnest, lips mouthing out a solitary ‘hi.’ For all it’s nervousness, there was no mistaking the reciprocating reaction, the warmth of the redhead’s smile reaching right up into Mako tinged eyes. Comfort. Solidarity. Affection. All were sentiments etched into the space between them, wordless but undeniable, a testament to the fledgling beginnings of whatever connection had taken root in the few short months she’d known him. She wanted to hear him speak; to fall in love with that familiar Banoran lilt all over again - but so too did half of the room.

At first it was just a jostle here and there, the push of eager fans trying to catch a glimpse of their beloved heroes. But before she knew it, it was like courting savagery. The shove of elbows, the trampling of feet, the brutal tug of hair in one case - and without ever meaning to, Aerith had been lost from view, a leaf caught on the wind, blown so far from the place she had started, painfully distant. It aggrieved her more than it should, guilt and familiar inferiority rearing it’s head as she abandoned the rich ballroom for the sanctuary of the balcony, the cold bite of Autumn air numbing her cheeks as she exhaled a long and lonely sigh.

It was a good ten minutes of being alone with her thoughts, before the elusive Freckle had appeared, stolen away from the scrutinising gaze of his menacing entourage, his obligation temporarily fulfilled before Shinra had need of him again. “They didn’t eat you alive then.” The brunette joked halfheartedly, taking a melancholic kind of comfort in the way he came to lean beside her, elbows poised against wrought iron railings.

“Not yet. But the night is young.” Genesis teased, fondness lingering in the warmth of his tone, even despite the circumstance. He’d seen what had transpired; unable to deviate from the well rehearsed machinations of his prior obligation and intervene, but it didn’t mean it didn’t bother him. Didn’t mean that he didn’t care. The curse of celebrity was just one of many unavoidable sins he’d learnt to bear. Glancing sideways, the first paused briefly, a slow exhale parting his lips before the usual breezy charisma resumed. “I’m glad you came.”

“I promised I would.” It earned him a muted smile, a small lopsided thing, as she raised her gaze to meet him, emerald eyes half obscured by heavy lashes as she stepped back and away.  “But you should get back before they miss you.” It was the last thing that she wanted, and yet it fell from her mouth all the same. She was seeking distance. Absence. The slow retreat back into herself instead of standing proud and worthy at his side.

“Aerith—” His hand caught her wrist, digits curling gently but insistently around slender bone, drawing her back into waiting arms so that he could remedy this misguided notion before it could sit and fester. “I see you.” His hands found her face, gloved palms cupping ivory cheeks as he drowned himself in those saddened doe eyes. “I know you feel so invisible all the time. But you’re not.” A bow of his head followed, nose nudging the side of her own, pleading, placating, a soundless kind of reassurance wrought in docile intimacy.  “Not to me.”

His words were sealed with the most wholesome of kisses; chaste and romantic, tinged with enough restraint to make sure the point was hammered home. It was never about lust. Never about another conquest to appear on his arm, a flavour of the week soon to be discarded. She was a person. His person. And whether she realised it or not, she mattered. Implicitly and without question.

[cultivatxr]

Carnation Red, Lilly-Of-The-Valley, Camellia White, Rose Red, Tulip Red, Viscaria

❀ Floral Expressions ❀

It was the first time anyone had ever gifted her with flowers, if you could believe it. In all of her 22 years of dalliances with fine florals and all things blossom, never once had she been the recipient of something so vibrantly poignant. It’s stunning for lack a better word; a kindness that conjures an emotion so raw and visceral it had brought tears to otherwise sparkling eyes. “Do you really mean it?” Aerith asked, as if it were a lie. As if she were somehow unworthy of such a powerful and visceral sentiment, especially from someone as unashamedly perfect as the off duty First.

It was a declaration of love, a passionate and lyrical symphony composed of multiple floral notes ; each eliciting a different emotion as they plucked at her heart strings one by one. Doubt gave way to joy when at last she smiled, teary but content at her finely cultivated treasure. There was only one response fitting for such an admission; a response that takes little effort and next to no hesitation on her part as she shortened the space between them, fingers hooking into criss crossed belts to draw him down and close for a singular, life affirming kiss.

It’s hardly chaste, but not carnal either - just something warm and sincere, laced with longing and gratitude in a way that sits comfortably on her tongue. It’s a return of the sentiment, a silent admission all of her own, weighted only by a breath shared and the promise of a bright and blinding future. “Thankyou.”  I love you too.

[cultivatxr]

[ read ]

❥      NON - SEXUAL   ACTS   OF   DOMINANCE  ||   your muse reading something to mine .

For once it’s not loveless, when the SOLDIER deigns himself to read; a quiet tangle of limbs tucked beneath a shady canopy of blossom, on a hazy and bright Summer afternoon. The shade is just a respite, fair skin an unwilling participant in the sun’s clear and unyielding reverie. His coat lays forgotten, tucked somewhere beneath a flower girl’s feet as she uses him as a pillow, still and tranquil - yet hanging on every word.

“Why then, O brawling love! O loving hate! O any thing, of nothing first create! O heavy lightness, serious vanity, Misshapen chaos of well-seeming forms, Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire, sick health, Still-waking sleep, that is not what it is! This love feel I, that feel no love in this.”

It should come as no shock that he had a penchant for the dramatic; voice rising and falling in time with the lilt and sway of the words, weaving a merry plot and bringing startling tragedy to life. It’s not the first time Aerith has heard it, but it is arguably the best. Nobody had ever taken as much time, nor as much care to encapsulate the characters properly - to throw his voice in a way that was as charismatic as it was relaxing. Admittedly, he could’ve read the phone book to her and she wouldn’t have complained, but this was something else. Something that appealed to all manner of closely guarded vulnerabilities and shades of romance - that was personal and specific and more than a little endearing.

The cessation of his words has her stirring, fingertips twitching to life as Aerith plays with his own, idle but awake. Her head tilts back in a gentle recline, emerald gaze peering up at the proud purveyor of literary art. “Don’t stop.” It’s borderline indecent, the way that she says it, face a litany of need as she craves the continuation, for the cathartic and artisanal culmination of a tale she knows so well. “I want to hear how it ends.”

“You know how it ends.”  He reminds with a chuckle, mouth grazing those restless fingertips with a blessing even the goddess herself would be proud of. There were few if any, that hadn’t already established quite how this tragic romance would end, but perhaps he could indulge the whim, given the fact that the company was hospitable and the scenery distinctly improved.

“Maybe this time it’ll be different.”  Were they still talking about Shakespeare now, or something else? Something far more nuanced and raw that sat like a ripple on an otherwise still tide. She doesn’t question anymore, sinking back into her blissful silence, wrapped up in the arms of someone that she loves so dearly and that cares for her right back.

“Maybe it will.”

[cultivatxr]

@giftofthegodess​ whispered: ❝If they do it again, you tell me.❞

                               CARING SENTENCE STARTERS || - [Accepting!]

It’s a request not an order, yet it feels like anything but. She can feel the conviction in it, radiating out of him, the unmistakable bite of protective concern so scarcely veiled by an instruction that irks her as much as it soothes. As far as the Turks are concerned, it’s not an if, but a when, - and while their interference in her life is something Aerith had become more than accustomed to, she could appreciate how it might look from a distance, particularly when her cooperation was less than forthcoming. 

That aspect of her world, was a conversation she and Genesis were yet to have; their shadowy role in her life, left painfully ambiguous in such an early stage of courtship. She’d tell him everything, if given enough time, although the forcing of her hand was doing little to quell the gnawing bite of apprehension it brought with it. To tell him meant admitting she wasn’t strictly human; that her entire life was a fabrication built up from the ruins of forced experimentation and constant exploitation. 

It didn’t exactly scream casual relationship, in any sense of the word - but nor did it sit particularly well with her, to let him believe that it was his status that had led to her ever intrusive surveillance. “And have you do what exactly? Get yourself arrested? ” The brunette lamented quietly, her hand resting like a soothing weight against his bicep as she burrowed her nose against the sanctuary of the redhead’s collarbone. “You don’t need to worry, Freckle. I promise I’m tougher than I look.”