#bush hogging

[gaaaaaaaayypr]

Gay yallternative country girl's bio

"You can find me listening to music while bush hogging"

Me: "Well I happen to be a bit of a bush hog myself ;)"

[lazer-t]

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[shabbytigers]

[olberic]

forgot how funny hot boy summer is im listening to the blazing babe eps and fully crying laughing less than 15 minutes in

[1o1percentmilk]

forgot how much i loved the conquest of toichiro suzuki

[batylandandforestrymanagement]

Baty Land and Forestry Management | Forestry Mulching Services | Bush Hogging Services in Sequatchie TN

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[butch-something]

bush hog

[wtf-tfw]

not quite my pace...

these two will now destroy. geee thanks.

[botanyshitposts]

bees do stuff with their little feet on flowers like it’s the most important thing they’ve ever done like they’re on a mission zoned in on the teeniest flower you’ve ever seen like by god there’s No time to waste we have to pollinate this luscious urban meadow with sparse weedy outer reaches mowed by a guy on a bush hog by 6 pm sharp

[karlachismylife]

[redacted] || The Queen of the Clan pt.3,5

CW: brief description of animal genitalia, brief description of animal sex (basically it's boys being hyenas, greetings and fucking, nothing too explicit). Still, this is NSFW and I WILL block every ageless blog (as well as minors) interacting with it, so please, put your age in your bio/pinned post. I feel sad when I have to block people :(

No one dares to stop him as his huge shadow stalks through the darkness of the night savanna. Even alone, Ghost is a formiddable presence, forced down the ranks by cruel laws of nature, but persevering and thriving against the odds - a lioness on her hunt strays away from him, preferring not to pick up a fight that might end with her jumped by a clan - a small, doomed without a female leader, but tight clan.

It still feels like the ground, cooled off by the night, burns under his soft paws, as he flies through the tall grass and bush, whipped by the shame of being caught, a dark missile set on a clear target - as he approaches the den they use during their out in the wild missions, he whoops, warning his clan of his arrival.

When he gets no immediate response, he slows down, raising his voice - a uniquely his, haunting, rumbling at the lower notes sound cutting through the air over the ochestra of cicadas. Finally, two voices respond - Captain somewhere on patrol, leaving two fluffy muppets to welcome his Lieutenant back. A softer, melodic call coming from Kyle gets overridden with quickly approaching whooping that even in the animal form sounds heavily accented - just one Scot's tongue seemingly built differently (specifically to get on Ghost's nerves).

Johnny almost rams Ghost's side, barely braking himself like a cartoon animal, dust clouds up in the air and deep traces where his hind paws dragged along before finally stopping. He lines up against his Lieutenant, lifting a paw impatiently - his thick member proudly erect, and Ghost would never be able to answer the question if Soap is just that eager to demonstrate submission to him or he's just getting horny from the sight of the dark-furred mountain with a blong mane alone. Earning a nip meant to keep him in line, Johnny shoves his muzzle into Ghost's crotch nonetheless, deliberately ignoring that the dominant hyena didn't even move his legs to accomodate such greeting - and then suddenly pauses.

Lifts his wide head, fluttering his big round ears, whines quietly, then, when Ghost stays silent, repeats in a more demanding tone - and by the time Gaz finally jumps out of the bushes gracefully, Ghost is already being full-on harassed by Johnny, who pays no mind to the bites and paw slaps he recieves from his bigger mate and keeps sniffing at his mane, going as far as to chomp on Ghost's nape and chew on on his light-coloured fur.

If they weren't out in the middle of savanna, Simon would've already shaken his animal form off and pinned Johnny down, but instead he has to fight off his Sergeant, who uses his height to his advantage as he escapes Ghost's grip and avoids being held like a guilty pup in the terrifyingly massive jaws capable of biting through a giraffe's thigh bone.

Of course, Kyle comes to his support, distracting Ghost by a quick greeting and using that same hind leg he lifted for him to push Ghost's snout away. He smells it too: the sweetness, the tanginess, the womanhood that lingers on the dark fur, something their Lieutenant clearly wants to hog for himself, as Soap tells Gaz in short, sulky whoops, getting smacked with Ghost's long tail in the face for the slander. He ain't hogging nothing, he just doesn't want to be their chewing toy for the night, even if he brought the smell that all of them already memorized from short encounters with the soft, plump, so perfect for cuddling in a pile and laying big heads on her lap, girl...

No matter how strong Simon is, being jumped by two muscle-packed hyenas isn't an easy fight to win, and after several more minutes of wrestling he finds himself pinned down on the ground by Soap's weight, as the chonky hyena plops on top of his superior officer and nuzzles into his mane with pathetic, needy whines, already grinding into Ghost's back, humping his poor tailbone like it's just a pillow for him to satisfy the need caused by a female's scent etched into his lover's hide.

Gaz keeps himself together just about as poorly, stuffing his wide nose between Ghost's ribs and inhaling with low wheezing howls. He's not rutting into Simon directly, but he's one hot-running furnace pressed up to the big hyena's side, leaking onto his fur and licking at the scented mane and Ghost's ears - well knowing that is makes his Lieutenant softer and more pliant.

It's no wonder that by the morning Price finds them in their den in a messy, sticky pile, paws entangled and traces of seed and saliva smeared on their sides, as if they were too exhausted to clean up even as they fell asleep. But even in the thick, musky mix of his subordinates' smells, he picks on the faint, delicate, sweet note - and immediately pinpoints it as the reason two Sergeants couldn't keep their paws off Simon.

Surely, after such an action-packed night Ghost won't mind being woken up by long, wet tongue of his Captain licking him clean thoroughly.

Part 3 | Part 4

Series masterlist | Main masterlist

Tagging: @elaineiswithyou-blog @creepingeva @my-halo-is-a-little-broken @sillymanjaro @ihatethinkingofnames10 @ravensfeatheruniverse @yaminax @ljh861 @darkangel4121 @ginger-n-coco @grey-shadow6475

So yeah, I guess these [redacted] parts (I just can't come up with as much spots-related puns and names as I'd like) will be a reoccuring thing, because writing fluffy hyena boiz is fun. Hope you enjoy these just as much as the main parts! Also I am accepting requests for this au, they might even get into the main storyline, so feel free to send in ideas!

you can ask to be added to the taglist under series masterlist post

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[pngblog]

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[sreegs]

when you see a bee going nuts in a flower: haha nice :)

when you realize the whole bush is just full of bees going hog wild on the flowers: oh yeah baby that's the stuff!!

[headspace-hotel]

My Oenothera biennis at home is covered in caterpillars of white-lined sphinx moth. I've never seen one before! I think the caterpillars hibernate underground over the winter and emerge in spring as their adult moth form?

O. biennis is common evening-primrose. It has such a special place in my heart. It was, I believe, the first rescued plant that bloomed for me—I pulled one from a crack in the pavement on the roadside, not knowing what it was, and carefully took care of it until it had grown too big for its pot, at which point I planted it in the front flower bed.

I remember how amazing it was to watch the plant develop pointed buds that opened into large, bright, delicate flowers that were the most gorgeous shade of glowing pale yellow. It was so unlike the rich, heavy, buttery yellows of dandelions and sunflowers and other yellow flowers I was familiar with—this plant had its own yellow, so gentle yet so luminous, almost fluorescent. Each day, a new set of buds formed and opened, beginning late July and continuing into the final days of September.

At last, the plant reached the end of its bright, showy riot of blossoms, and slowly dried up entirely, leaving an array of partially split open seed pods along the stem. O. biennis is biennial, as the name suggests. It germinates the first year, forms a rosette of leaves close to the ground, then the second year, it bolts—rapidly growing its stem upward—and produces tons and tons of flowers until it is utterly spent. As the plant dries out in death, the seed pods slowly curl open, releasing loads of tiny seeds.

The next spring, a strange miracle occurred: Many O. biennis sprouts came up where the seeds had fallen, but instead of creating a neat little rosette of leaves on the ground, they began bolting immediately.

One particularly enthusiastic sprout was already a foot tall by May, and kept growing and growing, to my perplexment. "You're supposed to be biennial! What are you doing?"

But it couldn't be denied—the plants were all preparing to bloom the same year they'd first sprouted. And bloom they did!

The flower bed by the front door was blazing with color.

I saw how people designated O. biennis as a weed—it wasn't compact like the usual garden plants, it grew tall and sprawling like an expansive candelabra of blossoms. It was strong and enthusiastic in spite of poor conditions. But it was so beautiful, I was in love.

I learned that occasionally, O. biennis growing in harsh conditions with low competition, could evolve to have an annual life cycle. Apparently, all the seeds produced by the founding plant inherited this trait.

Yesterday, I visited home and collected seed pods from the one extraordinarily enthusiastic plant that had captured my attention, the one that bolted in spring and began blooming before all the others. I intend to spread those seeds in the goldenrod fields and whatever neglected place a tough plant might thrive.

I feel that the progeny of my one extraordinary plant might be more competitive in areas that are periodically subjected to mowing and bush-hogging. The plants these seeds give rise to could be better adapted to the novel stresses placed upon them in these disturbed environments.

The weakness of O. biennis is that it spreads its seeds simply by gravity and the action of water washing seeds away. Its genetics, however exceptional, cannot travel far. So I am helping it out a little bit, by identifying a plant that has evolved exceptionally well for the stresses of a roadside environment and spreading its seeds as much as I can.

[baldursgat3]

so like a week ago I saw a post I can't find again about the idea of like an elf Tav who had grown up with Astarion before Cazador

so here's 4.5k words of that

lightly nsfw but the pants stay on (except in my half finished drafts that I gave up on)

A hog ran out of the bushes and you felt a blade against your neck as the man bodied you to the ground. He hovered over you, dagger pressed to your throat as he leaned in close with a soft smile. "Not another sound. Not if you want to keep that darling neck of yours." This was the first time you really managed to get a good look at him. Still, it took you a moment to recognize him. He looked so much older than you remembered and his eyes were blood red. "Astarion?" He was clearly not expecting that. His eyes widened in confusion and panic before he pressed the dagger firmer against your neck, the tip drawing a prick of blood. "How in the hells do you know that?" He hissed. "Who are you?

You stumbled along the beach away from the illithid ship. Your head was pounding and you just wanted to lay down but this was not nearly the time or place. You had to get away from the crash site and, preferably, find a few other survivors to watch your back. The cleric you picked up was fine and all, but you didn't entirely trust her. You were certain you'd need more help than that anyway.

Corpses littered the surrounding area, of humans and mind flayers alike. Not much survived the falling, flaming debris. It wasn't hard to make out a voice over the crackling fires.

You jogged towards the voice, quickly spotting it's owner. A slender elf with white curls that were surprisingly neat for surviving the nautiloid wreck. "Quick! I've got one of those brain things cornered."

That voice was… familiar? Still, you couldn't quite place it and it didn't really matter. If you helped him kill the thing, perhaps you could convince him to join you.

You followed where he was pointing, sword in hand. Really, you should've known better. Or perhaps Shadowheart could've been quicker to alert you?

A hog ran out of the bushes and you felt a blade against your neck as the man bodied you to the ground. He hovered over you, dagger pressed to your throat as he leaned in close with a soft smile. "Not another sound. Not if you want to keep that darling neck of yours."

This was the first time you really managed to get a good look at him. Still, it took you a moment to recognize him. He looked so much older than you remembered and his eyes were blood red. "Astarion?"

He was clearly not expecting that. His eyes widened in confusion and panic before he pressed the dagger firmer against your neck, the tip drawing a prick of blood. "How in the hells do you know that?" He hissed. "Who are you?

"You- you died…?" It didn't make sense. You saw them bury his body and everything.

His eyes flicked back and forth, studying your face. You wouldn't be upset if he didn't recognize you, but you weren't exactly sure how you would talk your way out of this in that case.

Fortunately, you wouldn't have to find out. You saw the moment it hit him as he jerked his dagger away from your neck, scrambling to get off of you. "It… can't be. Of all the people… you." He laughed bitterly, stowing the dagger.

Honestly, you weren't exactly sure how to respond to this situation. You couldn't even tell if he was happy to see you or not. So you decided to press on the most concerning issue still. "You died. I went to your funeral, Astarion. What… happened to you?"

You were nearly the same age, you'd grown up together in his family's estate. Your parents were hired hands and you served as a live-in friend for their reclusive son. He was only a few months older than you, so why did he look so much older? So much paler, more exhausted than someone your age ought to be.

On top of it he still looked fucking fantastic. Gods you hated how effortlessly beautiful he was.

His gaze darted between you and Shadowheart, anxiously weighing his options. "Ah, yes, well. You know how it goes, surrounded by adoration and opulence. It all gets to be too much, you fake your death, you flee the country. Standard business really."

That definitely wasn't the truth but clearly he wasn't about to share it in front of Shadowheart. It hurt, finding him like this, though. You were so close as children. It had gotten a little harder as you grew up but you always kept in contact. But he let you think he was dead for 200 years anyway? "Right. Of course. Well. Care to join us?"

~*~*~

It's not like you were still in mourning or anything. He had been a good friend for so long, at times even your best friend, but two hundred years was enough time for you to move on.

You had thought about him from time to time. Fondly remembering stories from your past that would turn into a quiet sadness for the life that was taken from him.

They never had an answer for what had happened to him. He had been murdered, you knew that much. No one ever said how or why, though. Magistrate's weren't exactly beloved and his family held a high enough title there was always the vague threat of assassinations but Astarion seemed like such a strange target.

It was compounded by the fact that nothing ever came of it. No one was ever caught, no political move was made on his grieving family. You would think maybe he'd been jumped, but nothing had been taken from him. Honestly, you never expected to get an answer. Certainly not from the dead man himself.

The two of you were sat in his tent, it had been a few days but what a wild few days they were. Tomorrow you would set out to level the goblin camp but tonight you were going to talk.

"I'm sorry." He started. It kind of surprised you, really. You had been learning over the past few days that the man you had once known was all but gone. The Astarion in front of you now was always bitter and irritated with half the things you did.

"Astarion I swear to Kelemvor, it is not naïve to rescue a twelve year old from a crazy lady with a snake for 'no reason.' The reason is rescuing the twelve year old from a snake."

"Where did you go? What happened to you?" The apology was nice but really, you just wanted answers. "Why didn't you tell me?"

He sighed, leaning forward to rest his arms on his knees. His eyes were fixed on the ground between the two of you and he looked so… sad. "I thought about it, about finding you. At first and, only for a moment."

Well that didn't really clear anything up, all right. You kept quiet though, you were smart enough to know when not to push.

"You want the truth? I was captured. Kidnapped by an evil man who turned me into a monster and forced me to do his bidding. I couldn't have told you. I- I didn't want to get anywhere near you. Not like this." 

A picture was beginning to come into focus. Honestly, there had been enough pieces that you had already begun to wonder. "You're a vampire."

"A spawn, yes." He practically spat the word out, scowling at the ground. "He turned me into his little pet. I was to go out and catch him the most beautiful souls I could find for him to feast on. All the while I was starved and tortured just for his amusement."

"Astarion…"

"I don't want your pity. I mean - I do, sort of but- ugh…" He rolled his eyes, leaning back. "You've made this all extremely complicated."

"Why didn't you ever try to find me? I would've helped, I could've tried to get you out of there."

"I… well I couldn't." He glanced up at you, a sad smile crossing his lips. "You would've tried, certainly. And I would've watched him kill you as punishment I'm sure. No, it's quite all right." He waved a hand dismissively, as a perfect, easy grin spread across his face.

You couldn't exactly argue. It's not like you had any idea what you would've been up against. Still, your blood boiled at the very idea of what he must've gone through in your centuries apart. "Well, you're safe right now, anyway."

His face softened at your words, seeming to relax into the very idea of your protection. "I am, aren't I? How strange." His head cocked to the side, an almost calculating look crossing his face. "Would you… care to stay the night?"

~*~*~

You had always had a sort of off and on crush on Astarion, growing up. When you were very small he had told your parents that the two of you were already married, obviously.

As you got older, you had been sidelined pretty hard as the best friend and you took it with grace. You had plenty of other people who caught your eye and it was nice to always have someone you trusted to be there.

There was that one time that he had drunkenly wept into your arms about being the only person he would ever truly love. It would've meant more had he not just gotten his heart broken hours prior, but it did rekindle an old spark in your heart for a solid year.

The two of you had drifted apart as your social circles moved in opposite directions. You never connected with the upper class, he wouldn't be seen with the rabble. You always kept in touch but, by the time he was murdered captured, you were struggling to keep up with your monthly nights out at the Elfsong.

Right now, though, in this moment? You felt as though you couldn't possibly be closer to another person if you'd wished for it.

Astarion had practically crawled on top of you in his effort to kiss you. One of his hands was tangled in your hair while the other rested firmly against the small of your back. He was colder than you were used to but that wasn't unwelcome. Instead it just sent shivers through your entire body with every touch.

You slowly lowered yourself down to your elbows as he leaned further into you, chasing this kiss like he needed it to survive. The hand in your hair held you firmly against him, not that you had any intention of going anywhere.

His tongue slipped into your mouth, pulling a pitiful little noise out of your throat. He let out a small breath of a laugh as his fingers began to slowly tug your shirt out of your pants. Every move was so delicate and effortless on his part. Gods he was flawless.

He freed your shirt from the prison that was your waistband, pulling back just far enough to whisper a soft "May I?" against your lips.

You couldn't help the grin that spread across your face as you blinked up at him. "Only if you return the favor."

"Gladly." A devilish smile crossed his lips as he pulled back, taking your top with him. A moment later, he had his own pulled over his head and both were recklessly discarded.

One of his hands found it's way to your back again. You couldn't help the way you jumped as his icy fingers made contact with your bare skin. His other hand came up to cup your jaw, ever so gently applying just a bit of pressure. Just enough to encourage you to lay back underneath him as he pressed your lips together again.

You went so easily, he was so gentle and sweet and he tasted like vanilla and ever so slightly like copper. He was intoxicating.

Once he had you on your back, his hands began to wander. They trailed ever so delicately over your chest, lighting a fire inside of you as they went. Your own hands were so much more inexperienced. One helplessly pressed flat against his back, the other unwilling to pull away from his curls for even a moment.

He didn't seem to be bothered by how little you were really helping. His hands continued tenderly mapping your body as his kisses began to trail away from your mouth, along your jawline.

You let out a small gasp as his kiss trailed down to your neck and you felt him pull back, just a bit, just enough to look at you. "Now… it is just a thought… it's just that, well, some people are into biting."

"Are you asking if you can drink my blood?"

"Well, only if the answer is yes."

You gently brushed your hand through his mess of curls as you pondered this. "What would it… do?"

"To you? Not much. A bit of dizziness perhaps, nothing out of the ordinary for some good old fashioned blood loss. But for me? I've been living off rats and wild boar for decades. Just a sip from someone as decadent as yourself could probably give me the power of the sun."

You couldn't help but laugh at the blatant flirting, but damn if it wasn't working. "Maybe a bit exaggerated," he continued "But it would make me feel stronger. I could fight better, think clearer. You don't have to-"

"Go for it."

"Oh. Shit really? I still had a whole monologue about not feeling pressured."

"Getting less sexy by the second, Ancunín."

"Gods, shut up." He rolled his eyes, pressing his lips back to yours as you giggled.

You could feel his anticipation now, though. He kissed you just long enough to push you back into the right headspace before his attention turned back to your neck.

He lingered there longer than you expected, tenderly covering you with his kisses. Then, without warning, he pulled back and his gentle lips were replaced by an acute sting as his fangs sunk into one of your veins.

It was a unique feeling, you could say that. You'd been stabbed before but this was different. It was cold. Like the first snow of winter, dark and freezing but glittering like crystals in the moonlight. You heard yourself gasp and felt your body arch up into him as your head tipped back for him.

You could've easily lost yourself in the feeling, just basking in this closeness you had with someone who was so dear to you. You had just enough awareness to feel the dizzy, light headed bliss start to tip towards darkness.

Your grip on his hair tightened, gently trying to tug him back before he got carried away. "Astarion…"

He only let out a gentle moan before seeming to catch himself, quickly pulling away with a small gasp. "Gods…" he wiped away the small trickle of your blood that had escaped his lips, licking it from his fingers as you stared up at him, slack jawed.

"I couldn't have wished for a finer vintage." He crooned as he ducked his head back down to clean the blood from your neck.

Gods, he had your heart about bursting out of your chest. His hands started to wander again as his mouth continued it's assault on your neck. Every touch was so careful and perfect, each one sending sparks flying through you.

He cupped one hand around your neck, gently applying a bit of pressure to stop the bleeding as his mouth moved back to yours. "You're gorgeous, you know? I've always thought so."

You were obsessed already. He was intoxicating, the way his touch felt against your skin, the way his honey sweet words pierced your heart. There was an old version of you that had dreamed of just having him like this.

Here you were, pampered and loved by a man you had adored for so long. Gods, you really never thought you would ever see him again, let alone have his hand down your pants like this. In this moment, the world was nearly perfect. The only thing that mattered to you now was making this boy yours.

~*~*~

You woke up in the morning, a bit sore, a bit disoriented, and very alone. It took a moment to remember why you were in a strange tent. Another moment for you to realize Astarion was gone. You couldn't help the disappointment that bloomed in your chest at that thought. You couldn't blame him, exactly. It's not like the two of you were a thing. Still, it would've been nice to wake up beside him.

You sighed softly, quietly getting dressed in the still morning chill. It felt like early morning, the golden light filtering into the tent and lack of noise from your companions clued you in. Maybe Astarion had run off to feed before the rest of the camp woke up. Maybe he'd hoped to be back before you had gotten up?

No such luck. You pushed open the tent flap to find your vampire quietly staring at the dim embers of your campfire. You had to bite back another sigh as you stepped forward, apparently making enough noise to draw his attention.

His neck whipped around, though he relaxed instantly once he located the source of the sound he'd heard. "You're up early." He said, quietly, turning back to the fire.

"I could say the same."

"I'm always the first one awake." You could hear the eye roll in his voice.

You stepped forward, moving to sit beside him with a small, awkward smile. "And you just had to get away from me?" Don't freak him out, play it cool. You weren't disappointed at all.

He didn't seem to find it funny, though. He just drew his knees up closer to his chest. "I told you. You made things… complicated."

That was weird. Honestly, you had no idea what he meant. "I'm sorry?"

"Not your fault." His voice was flat and unreadable. He'd really changed so much since you last saw him. It made sense but that didn't stop it from hurting.

You missed the man you used to know. Snarky and a bit full of himself. But also shy and awkward and comforting. You recognized many of his old mannerisms but they'd changed. He was bitter, focused on how to protect himself above all else. It made him violent and trigger happy in a way you weren't used to. Quite frankly, it was a little scary sometimes, the amount of joy he took in violence.

"Can I help?" It was all you had really. You couldn't change what had happened to him. All you could do now was try to help.

"Can you help? Sure. If you could just… go back in time, stop yourself from finding me after the nautiloid and let me carry on my merry way, presumably to be murdered by the first person I annoy too much."

"Okay, well, I'm not sure I can do that." You couldn't read him, no matter how hard you tried. "Did I… do something wrong?"

"No, gods, no." He curled up tighter. He looked so… vulnerable. He never did vulnerable. Especially not now. "You're perfect. That's the problem. You made it complicated."

"Astarion, I don't understand."

He sighed, finally turning his head to throw you a small, tired look. "I know. Hells…" You could see the confliction writing itself across his face. "I want to tell you something but you have to swear that you won't hate me for it, I mean it. It's not good, but you cannot hate me."

"I've never hated you, Star." Maybe the nickname was a bad idea. You practically saw it stab him directly through the chest, forcing him to turn away for a moment to collect himself.

He couldn't look you in the eye again, he just stared off to the distance in any other direction. "I know. I mean it though, promise me, please."

"All right." What could he possibly tell you that was worse than 'I spent two hundred years forced to kidnap people to be killed by my master.' "I promise. I won't hate you, no matter what."

You saw him relax a bit, his shoulders loosening. He turned back, just enough to glance at you out of the corner of his eye. "I… Last night, that- it…" It was so rare that he struggled to find his words.

He took another breath, trying to collect himself before turning back to the fire. "I was just… using you. I wish I could say I didn't mean to but- gods, I did. I pushed it that way on purpose. Its all… part of the plan, you know? Seduce you, sleep with you, secure my safety and position in the group with you. It was… easy."

Oh. Well that wasn't exactly great to hear. He was still trying to collect himself, find the right words. You didn't want to interrupt and, honestly, you didn't really know what to say.

"I didn't think about it, I just… did it. Like I had to. I needed to. And by the time my head caught up it was too late. You were already into it, I couldn't just stop."

"What?"

"I mean," He continued quickly, seemingly trying to get ahead of your presumed anger. "It's not like it wasn't good, it's not like I don't… care about you. It's just, it was an instinct. I think."

"Astarion-"

"Please, you have to understand-"

"No, no, stop. Hold on." You saw the panic in his eyes as you interrupted. "Astarion did you not… want to do that?"

The look he gave you was, honestly, almost a little pitiful. "Like I said, you've made this complicated. I don't know. I don't know what I want."

You turned your attention away from him, towards the dying fire in front of you, pausing for a moment to collect your thoughts. "I wish you hadn't done that to yourself." He was right. This was complicated.

He wasn't the same person you had grown up with. Whatever had been done to him had clearly changed him fundamentally as a person.

But, still, you couldn't look at him without seeing your old friend. It was still the same laugh you had known. Still the same smile. You saw it, when you agreed to help the tieflings, the way he cocked his hip out and rolled his eyes. His little mannerisms that still lingered after all this time. He might not be the same man you had known, but you loved him anyway.

"I don't know what happened to you," you continued before he could get defensive. "I don't know what made you feel like you had to go to such extremes just to win affections you've had since we were children."

You saw some kind of spark in his eyes. It was so difficult to read him now, you wanted to get better at that. "I'm… sorry." He sounded so unsure. Honestly, you didn't care for it, he was always so confident. Now, though, he just looked… sad, maybe?

"You don't have to apologize. Astarion," You carefully reached a hand out to cover one of his. "The first thing you did when you saw me was put a dagger to my throat, and I still would've tossed Shadowheart into the ocean if you'd asked me to."

That pulled a startled laugh out of him that you briefly worried might've woken up your companions. Gods you really would do just about anything to see him smile. "You would not have. You're too much of a goody two shoes."

"Maybe." You grinned, giving his hand the smallest squeeze. "Still. I'm just sorry you felt like you had to go that far for my affection."

"I'm not the man you used to know, I'm not blind. I don't know who he was anymore. Up till now, I think I'd forgotten my own parents' faces. But you look at me like you expect me to be him and I don't know how. I can't be what you expect, at least if I could keep your bed warm you'd have reason to keep me around."

"Astarion…" Your hand tightened around his as you scooted just a bit closer. "I was sitting in the Elfsong, a long time ago. At 'our' table, you know? I was waiting for you to meet me and I grabbed a day old copy of the Gazette to read while I waited.

"I didn't even notice at first. There was a headline for one of the articles, 'Magistrate Murdered', but I didn't notice until I got closer to it. I saw your name and it was like the roof caved in over me. I was sitting there, waiting for you to show up, and a shitty, ale stained piece of parchment told me you never would."

You looked up at him with a sad smile before continuing quickly, trying to stay ahead of the guilt you were sure was creeping up in him. "I cried for months over you. And for years after when something reminded me too much of you. Star, neither of us are the same person we left behind, it's been two hundred years. I've been through plenty, and you've been through hell. That's not what matters though."

He looked so small right now. He was nervous and upset and vulnerable. You hated it, you didn't want him to be so anxious with you, gods you wanted him to trust you. "What matters is right now. We're here together. That's so much more than I ever could've dreamed just a month ago. You don't have to earn my trust and love again. And you certain don't have to force yourself to have sex with me to do it. I never stopped loving you, Astarion."

He was still for a moment, his eyes flicking over your face, scanning you for ill intent. You watched him cycle through a dozen emotions as he processed what you were saying. Then, almost like a switch flipped, he just melted.

With a choked out sob, he collapsed into you. You wrapped your arms around him as he curled into a ball, practically in your lap. His whole body shook as he quietly cried into your chest. You really did hate seeing him cry but you could feel the tension lifting from his shoulders as you held him tight.

You let a silent prayer fly to whichever god was keeping your friends asleep through this, asking them to keep up the good work. The last thing he needed right now was everyone else seeing him like this, you knew how much he wanted to keep up appearances.

Ever so gently, you lifted a hand to card your fingers through his curls. He curled up just a bit tighter, leaned into you just a bit more. It had been so, so long since the two of you had been this close. You really, truly never wanted it to end.

Eventually, though, he pulled back with an awkward laugh and a hasty scrub of his face. He didn't go far, just enough to sit back and look at you. "Gods… well. That was sexy."

You rolled your eyes, throwing him a soft grin. "You're ridiculous, Star. Come on, everyone'll be up soon. Big day, you know? Let's go kill some fucking goblins."

[monicahar]

not what it seams...

wanderer x gn! reader, oneshot, comfort/hurt, fluff, he's referred as kuni bc wanderer is just blarhghgg, mentions of cheating and affairs, kuni being insecure, mouchie bday special ! !

anyone with two braincells could obviously tell you were up to something.

the rushed less-than gratifying kisses, cautious and hurried steps in nearly everything you do, nervous glances thrown his way when you think he isn't looking—he'd be as dumb as a rock if he couldn't at least pick up on your strange behaviour.

with how you were leaving your shared inn during the dead of the night, thinking you're being slick without his knowledge—he's growing suspicions now.

just what is it?

perhaps, you're doing errands? but why is it at night and why aren't you bringing him along with you like the usual?

are you in any danger and is unable to tell him? he's worried.

is it an affair? he's scared.

he's tempted to follow you whenever he hears rustling of bed sheets next to him during ungodly hours of the moon's turn, but he's afraid of what he'd come to reveal once he tries to pry it himself.

this is awfully out of character for him—considering he never beats around the bush and just always does what is necessary and whatever he feels obliged to.

as much as he doesn't want to admit it, it's highly likely due to the fact that your relationship is on the line—he could lose you, and he does not want that at all.

if you were truly in danger, you would've long asked him for help or at least told him in a more roundabout way should there be some type of factor preventing you from directly saying it to him. you both have multiple ways of letting the other person know one is in danger, so that's simply checked out.

but abandoning that sentiment would leave with you having an affair.

if he's right about you hogging another partner behind his back, then pathetically enough for him and his pride, he wouldn't know what to do.

just by simply imagining you enjoying life with someone else already has him stumped. he shakes his head to remove the disturbing image in his head whilst an uncomfortable feeling lurks inside his chest.

he can't stop pondering about what is really wrong with you, and it's effectively stopping him from getting a single wink of sleep—aside from the factor that you aren't beside him right now trying to warm him up with your bear hugs.

heck, he should just get this over with. like what you've always said—communication is key. he'll just confront you head on. 

if you turn out to be a filthy cheater, then he should be able to drop you easily. he has no use for a partner that doesn't carry respect for him.

...

—right?

"are you cheating on me?"

he finally drops the dreaded question one day during an unsuspecting lunch with you—saying it as if he was plainly discussing the weather as some mere small talk to share.

when you choke on your food as a response—he does not budge, refusing to look at you in the eye as he stares at the untouched meal before him.

is this cowardice? he holds in a small huff at the thought. is he that attached that he still doesn't wish to part with you even under the heavy suspicion that you're hiding someone else behind your back?

he could feel your intense gaze on him when you calm down from your fit of coughs with a haste chug of water, non-verbally asking for an explanation through your questioning stare as to why he uttered such an accusation.

unfortunately for you, his silence merely grew thicker in return.

seeing as he wasn't making move nor had any intention to speak up any more after the initial vocalising of a cheating allegation, you heave a deep sigh.

“...and what makes you say that, kuni?”

your voice came out more calm and collected than the wanderer...anticipated. a pleasant tone coated in saccharine as to somehow relay that you genuinely want to talk this out with him.

he honestly expected a much more violent response—jabbing a finger at him for even thinking of saying such a repulsive claim, slamming a hand on the table as to being defensive when pressed on a matter of being basically called a liar or being extremely defensive—he's expected a much worse reply.

you asked for what made him say that as a response, a much better retort than he expected, but not the one he really wanted.

“just answer the question. i'm not mad at all.”

not mad he says, but why is he clenching his fists underneath the table, almost trembling in the process?

he feels like he could puke. like a boiling pot of water threatening to spill its contents at how much it seethes in flames.

please answer. he begs in the depths of his tempestuous mind.

he's struggling to hold in his erratic emotions right now because he just wants an answer. a proper one that would decide whether he'd leave this table at this instant or not.

something is violently hammering against his chest nonstop as his exasperation grows.

being too preoccupied with trying to keep his composure and not break down right in front of you, he doesn't notice you circling around his seat until you gently wrap your arms around his shoulder, pulling his back to meet your embrace as you place a soothing kiss atop his head.

“no.” one word, and his tense shoulders refuse to move a single inch under your hold.

you euphoniously whisper all of it, only for him to solely hear and no one else. “i'm not cheating on you.”

the wanderer leisurely cranes his neck to look at your face, scouring your expression in bated breaths as he desperately searches for an ounce of a false truth: a lie.

after a nearly dehumanizing moment, relief washes over him like he'd just went under a spring waterfall—cleansing him of all his pessimistic and obstructive thoughts in one instant.

he finds nothing, but sincerity in your pools.

quickly shifting in his seat to face you fully, he gingerly wraps his arms around your waist as he buries his face onto your clothes, his hands gripping the cloth like it's his last lifeline.

you don't bother to hide your shock as you lightly squeal when he tightens his grip on you, feeling his lips quivering against the soft frabric of your shirt.

suddenly feeling a cold wetness form in your shirt, you raise your hand to delicately caress the tresses of his hair and massage his scalp with your fingers as you coo at him quietly.

listening to his soft cries with his face still hidden away from the world against your body, you frown as you try to think of what possibly made him think this way in the first place. your usually snarky and cynical lover crying like this wasn't a minor matter in any way.

wait a moment, is this because of that...?

“were you awake each time i was leaving in the middle of the night?” you ask straightforwardly, without hesitation as if you couldn't believe it if it revealed to be the truth behind all of this.

he sniffles as he somehow buries himself deeper onto your chest, his voice coming out strained from all his crying—“you weren't being particularly discreet, you know? you idiot...”

“ahaha...” you rub the nape of your neck in slight embarrassment. he never moved nor breathed when asleep so there was absolutely no way you could even figure out if he was asleep or not. a huge misstep on your part. “forgive me, it wasn't supposed to look that way.”

“what was it supposed to look like then?” even in this vulnerable window he's warily let you in, he's still being the sarcastic bastard he is, it seems.

you tut as if it wasn't your fault from the start. “you weren't supposed to look in the first place, kuni.”

you immediately yelp in pain when he pinches a small part of your skin through your clothes, earning him a light demeaning pat to his shoulder for his unnecessary engagement of a teasing action.

“what were you even doing...in the middle of the night at that.” he grumbles.

you hum in content when he finally raises his head to meet your eyes, tears still brimming on the ends of his lashes as his inevitably gaze softens at the sight of you looking down at him with a small smile. “i was visiting a tailor. she's helping me make a gift, discreetly as i asked to.”

cradling his face in your palms, you start to rubs circles on his cheeks, feeling the dried streak of the tears he let out for you. you hold in the urge to pinch his puffy cheeks.

“a gift? for wh—” and suddenly, for split moment—the wanderer felt dumb.

“looks like our special birthday boy forgot something, hm?” you couldn't help the smirk that crept up on your face as realization dawns upon him like a brick.

“i've finished the gift just last night, but it doesn't look the best so i was still hesitating whether or not i'd give it to you because you might not like it—”

“give it to me.”

looking down at him, you realize he's since long pulled away from your hold, staring at you with his indigo hues like a child waiting for his toy to be brought to him.

“... don't laugh, okay?”

he immediately raises a brow at that as he rubs his eyes out of its puffiness. “uh, sure. if it's that bad.”

reaching for your bag at your end of the table, you slowly bring out the gift from its confinements, shoving the gift into his arms as the embarrassment slowly eats up all of your confidence from earlier.

a doll, you gave.

a handsewn doll that looks like you to match the little one hidden in his navy kimono sleeves.

“it's...” he starts, thumbing the small details you added in to make it more convincing that it was supposed to look like you.

[e/c] beads as your eyes, some small chipped material of sorts to accommodate your hairstyle, clothes are spot on save for the small tear on its back... it's so...

panic overcomes your senses when a tear starts running down his face yet again, his eyes widened in surprise and fascination as he stared at the mini you sat on his palm.

“w-wait a moment, why are you crying?! my gift wasn't supposed to make you do that!”

“shut up! i'm just crying because it's so ugly!”

whatever the boy filled with derisiveness says, yet he holds the newly gifted doll so closely and snug to his chest, a smile so miniscule gracing upon his lips that he probably doesn't even notice it himself.

but you do.

—and it's more than enough for you to fully discard the blunt insult he threw at your gift just now.

(not what it seams cause get it? reader sewed a gift for him while it's all just a big misunderstanding? hehehehe hahahahaha😐)

once again HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO OUR BABY SCARAMOUCHIEEE pop a fart rn if you want to kiss him virtually