#moon is being serious :3

[crystalflygeo]

Surrogate eggs ft Zhongli + fem!reader

cw/tags: Egg-laying/Oviposition, semi-plublic sex, multiple orgasms, slight fingering, overstimulation, dirty talk, breeding kink, Zhongli has a dragon tongue, praise kink, sex toys??, improper use of geo (can you tell I love that tag?), pet names, some pain??, aftercare.

notes: I disappear for a week and come back with this absolute FILTH omg. It really is just almost 2k of egg-laying made sexy because I am a degenerate and want nothing more than Zhongli filling me up with eggs <3 sorry not sorry.

Having a 6000 years old dragon ex-god as a lover sure meant you were already more or less used to a certain… spice in your life.

But this, this was certainly new.

“Ah- Zhong- Hnnhg!”

Your legs tremble as a newborn fawn as you stray off the main path and lean against one of the golden ginkgo trees by the side, panting and whining softly.

“Are you alright dear? You look quite flustered.” Zhongli curiously trails after you, hands behind his back, perfectly poised. As if he wasn’t the one making the cor lapis eggs in your pussy vibrate and tease your insides. “Do you need to rest? We’ve barely reached the base of Qingyun peak.” He asks, an amused smile on his lips.

“B-bastard.” You huff out with a pout and immediately feel the vibrations intensify. “O-Oh… fuck-”

Three. Three small polished cor lapis pieces in the shape of eggs, warm and snug and deep inside you. They shift and rub against your sweet spots, pulsing at his will ever since you stepped foot in Jueyun Karst, at first it was an odd sensation but soon enough your panties were soaked, juices running down your legs as you struggled to keep standing, sweet noises coming out of your mouth that only made Zhongli’s gaze darken.

“Zhongli…” You cry out.

“Yes, darling?”

“S-stop… mmh”

“Oh? But you seem to be enjoying yourself so much.”

“Stop… playing dumb.” You grit your teeth, clinging to the tree for dear life. The vibrations calming down to a soft hum, a gentle fucking not unlike his cock. “Please I’m-” You whine again.

You feel his finger softly raise your chin and your hazy half-lidded eyes were met with glittering gold, his diamond pupils mesmerizing and his stare soft and affectionate but also domineering, commanding, and full of lust.

“What do you need, my dear? Tell me.”

You choke a moan at his authoritarian presence, shifting and rubbing your legs together as the pleasure robs you of your strength. “P-please… Zhongli, make me come, please I n-need- It’s not… enough.”  

His eyes shift to the side as he seems to consider it for a moment and you almost mewl for his attention, eyebrows knitting together trying to steel yourself.

“Alright.” He concedes, and leans forward to kiss you softly.

Well, at first.

The geo eggs inside you start to shake and vibrate more intensely and you gasp at the sudden rush of stimulation, Zhongli holds you and pulls you closer, taking the chance to snake his long dragon tongue into your mouth, quickly deepening the kiss and set on devouring you.  

“Hmpnnng-” He swallows your moan as you kiss back the best way you can but it’s suddenly so much- too much- you’ve been teased and edged all the way and he’s- he’s just-

Your body shudders in his arms and you let out a high-pitched noise as you climax. Your insides squeezing and milking the toys inside you, dragging on the pleasure for longer and you cling onto him as your legs threaten to give up. Bliss, pure bliss. And he hasn’t even touched you proper yet.

“There we go…” His rough voice mumbles as he breaks apart the filthy kiss, his hands rub at your hips and you vaguely realize the geo eggs have stopped again. He carefully maneuvers your pliant body until you’re both sitting on the yellowed Liyue grass, his back resting against the tree while you sit between his legs, your back pressed to his chest.

He spreads your legs and holds them open with his own, you blush heavily as you realize his intentions, hiking up your skirt to reveal soft thighs and wet panties to the world. The flimsy fabric is soaked and clings uncomfortably against your pussy, more so as you feel the soft breeze.

“W-wait… right here?”

It is true that barely anyone ever enters Jueyun Karst but it was still risky. A lost adventurer, a lone merchant… you weren’t that far from the main dirt path, anyone could walk in and see you… exposed like this.

Your insides clenched, throbbing around nothing but the eggs inside of you.

Archons you really were depraved.

Zhongli rubs your inner thighs comfortingly before pulling your panties aside, his long gloved fingers skim your heated pussy lips and rub at your hole as it twitches wildly in response.

“Zhongli…” You moan weakly. “I’m so full.”

“I know, you look so pretty with my eggs inside you. Breathtaking.” His other hand rubs circles on your navel. The warmth within the geo energy sent through him spreading heat in a sensual way. “How about you push them out for me and we can be done. I’ll take you home so you can rest, my precious mate.” He nuzzles you.

“W-wha…” You mumble dumbly, but instinctively lean to his touch.

“They’ve been inside you long enough, and… we’ve had our fun.” He explains, kissing at your jaw. Two of his fingers easily sliding inside you, making you jump. “Don’t you think it’s time to let them out? I want to see you lay them.”

Pressure builds in your gut and you nod, biting your lip. Her works those sinful fingers in and out of your pussy slowly, scissoring them to stretch you a little and you moan. Not that you needed that much preparation with the recent orgasm and your… activities early that morning.

After all, those eggs had gotten in somehow, hadn’t they?

Only a few moments later and you feel ready, panting rapidly as if you truly were going into labor yet at the brink of another orgasm, you weakly pulled his hand away “H-Hold me…” You mutter heatedly. Zhongli kisses you softly and you take a deep breath.

And push.

The first egg slides down freely inside you, rapidly moving until it catches at your entrance, it burns a little but feels so good, lightning up pleasured nerves in a way that had you mewling before the stretch disappears, coming out alongside your spilling juices and onto the grass.   

Zhongli doesn’t hesitate to slip his fingers back into your heated core to soothe the sore muscles and play with your pussy a bit more, rubbing over your raw clit to make your hips stutter and your legs shake trying to close.

“That’s the first one, two more.” He says softly, his chin resting on your shoulder as he obviously stares between your legs entranced. You flush at his actions. “You can do it.” He encourages you, elegant fingers spreading your folds lewdly and soaking in your essences.

The whole experience is making you dizzy.

“I-I just… I just need a moment.” You pant, groaning and shifting your position a little so you’re less sitting and more lying against him, lifting your hips slightly and offering him an even better view from above.

“Just imagine the real thing. There will be more of them, slightly bigger and thrumming with elemental energy.” He growled softly against your ear. “Our children. Our clutch.”

It’s just dirty talk. It’s just dirty talk and it sets your blood on fire to hear it. You know his base draconic instincts are going haywire with the idea and archons you want that. You want that so badly.

Another egg stretches your hole and you can only imagine what it looks like as it slips and spreads you open. “Ah- Ah!” You toss your head back, let out a long moan and strain the muscles of your stomach before finally it slips out.

“Good girl.” Comes his smooth baritone in the form of a praise. You sigh in relief, rutting against his fingers as reward. You see slick threads of your juices all over on his gloves, the shiny eggs and your pussy, connecting everything together in a mess of a shiny cobweb. It’s obscene.

It’s so hot.

“Just one more, darling.” The ex-archon soothes you, possessively rubbing at your navel once again although you feel something’s different, like something shifts a little inside you. “Though, I feel this one is just a little bigger… closer to the real thing.”

Your eyes widen.

“No, no, no, you did it on purpose… just now… m-make it smaller again, please!” You shake your head frantically, digging your nails against his arms and squirming against the feeling of his fingertips dancing around your folds.

“Shhh, shhh” He cooed, kissing at your neck. “You can do it, I know you can. Consider it… practice.” You can practically feel the smirk Zhongli presses against your skin.

“I already came so much…” You whisper, tears in your eyes. “Zhongliiii…”

“You got this.” He kisses your temple. “Just one more. I want to see that sweet pussy stretch around my egg, please?”

You groan at his filthy words, hips snapping against phantom stimulation as your pussy quivers. You brace yourself and breathe in deeply before squeezing your eyes shut and doing your best to push against the overstimulation. Your hole stretches impossibly wide, widening against the grit of the egg and pressing against your clit making you keen. It rests there a few seconds, heavy, solid, before finally popping out with a wet squelch, dropping right by the other two, and you scream at the excruciating mix of pain and pleasure.

For a moment you can’t even breathe, much less speak as you rest a little. Black spots dance in your vision and your ears are ringing. When you come to again Zhongli is desperately peppering you with kisses, caresses and praise. Hugging you close and growling dark promises into your skin.

“-did so well. My little mate. My perfect mate. Want to breed you for real. Fill you up. You’d give me wonderful little half adepti. So good for me. Truly worthy to be a dragon’s mate. Should keep you in my nest. Love you so much-”      

Sluggish, you close your legs and pull down your skirt clumsily, ignoring the soreness and sticky feeling as your body sags against him in exhaustion.    

The dragon is practically purring, having mellowed down a little yet obviously pleased after having you bear his eggs, albeit fake ones. The intention is there… as well as the possibility for the future.

“We should go to the abode, you deserve a good rest. I’ll clean you up and get you something to eat and drink, hm?”

“Just a little more, Li.” You mumble tired. “It’s warm and cozy here…”

He chuckles and pets your hair. “Alright.”

[beingofthestars]

honestly? whatever youd like to do with me, hun. i do mean that honestly. i have no specific ideas. j- just take the wheels-

my dear? I heard you had been… fox-ified as well?

@ask-harry-fitzgerald

huh? OH! yeah! i have-

SPEAKING OF FOXIFIED! xis tail is wagging.

[ghost-proofbaby]

“I am not jealous,” she snaps, spinning around to face him. His hands fall away from her easily, his grip never having been very strong to begin with.  “Oh, but you are.”  “Fuck off, Astarion.” 

summary: some tough conversations are had, some armor is discarded, and aruna gets jealous.

wc: 6.2k+

warnings: descriptions of pain due to a stab wound, miscommunication if we squint, description of blood (specifically staining clothing)

a/n: shout out to my beloved @hellfire--cult for helping me figure out some of the end dialogue. thank you for always listening to me ramble on and on about this fic even tho you're a gale girlie. i love you.

ao3 | masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter

Aruna’s determination proves to not be for naught. She makes it back to camp, although a bit slowly, only tripping twice. 

By the time they’re strolling back into what has now become their temporary home, the sun has set and everyone is exhausted. Shadowheart no longer looks to be on the verge of passing out, but Aruna knows she needs time to recover just as much as the wound in her side still does. As she watches Wyll guide their cleric back to her tent, all that guilt returns, gnawing viciously at her insides. 

She almost misses the pain of being stabbed with the branch – that was less painful than this culpability.

“Take a seat,” Gale insists when he catches the way she’s merely standing and staring, putting a soft hand on Aruna’s shoulder that earns a warning sneer from Astarion, “She’ll be back soon with the healing potion, and then you need to rest.” 

The last thing she really wants to do is rest, even if she knows she needs to. The persistent need to rest only makes her feel as though she’s failed them somehow. 

“We should make a fire,” she says stiffly, eyes still locked on Shadowheart’s tent that she’s disappeared into, Wyll slowly making his way back over. 

Gale nods, immediately getting to work once he waves a hand towards the makeshift bench once more, signaling for Aruna to sit. This time she listens against her better judgment, still flooded with the need to do something useful. 

She should be the one making the fire to warm and dry them off. She was the one who had fallen foolishly into the river, who had gotten them into this mess. 

It’s no surprise when Astarion quickly takes a seat beside her. 

All that guilt continues to bubble up, and it’s the only reason that Aruna finds herself speaking to him, the overflow of it finally spilling out of her, “I’m sorry for worrying you. I didn’t mean to initiate the connection again.” 

He only hums in response as he pulls one of his daggers out, flipping it absent-mindedly between his palms. 

“We had it handled,” she continues on when he doesn’t offer a proper response, voice only shaking a little bit. She could pass it off as the cold getting to her, if anyone were to ask, “In all fairness. I’m sure that the current would have subsided eventually, or-”

The movement of his blade ceases, “You would call getting stabbed through your chest having it handled?”

The guilt pours out now, gushing faster than her wound had even when they’d first pulled the branch out of it, “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again – I assure you I’ve learned my lesson when it comes to running water.” 

Astarion tilts his head back, a sour bark of laughter leaving him, “Yes, I’m sure you have.”

She assumes that’s all he has to say, but he surprises her, continuing on as he glares at the trees in the distance before them. 

“Would you like to know the most startling part?” He’s angry. Absolutely livid. And yet, he still has yet to spark any fear in her, “It’s not the fact that you nearly got yourself killed again. No, that I can expect from you now. It was days of silence suddenly cut off by your voice in my head, prattling on about saving me,” Aruna freezes entirely, and not due to the temperature. He had heard her; he had heard all her vulnerable thoughts regarding the letter. “But even that I can disregard. I can handle playing the seeming role of a damsel in distress if the timing is right. What I cannot handle is to suddenly feel your lungs filling with water as though they were my own. What I couldn’t fathom was to feel as though I was the one stabbed, yet knowing it was you, and knowing I could do absolutely nothing about it.” 

She’s dizzy again, and not from blood loss. 

“You have seemingly made it your mission to make me... Make me…” he trails off, his hand gripping the hilt of his dagger so tightly that his impossibly pale skin has turned nearly translucent, “Make me care for your safety. You’ve managed to inexplicably tie your survival to mine. Do you truly think that if you died, any of them would hesitate to stake me for the first moment I opened my mouth?'' She opens her own mouth to answer, but he isn’t done, “Especially if any of them found out what I truly was. They would feed me to the wolves. I don’t understand why you haven’t, I don’t understand why you insist on trying to help me in some sick, twisted way,” he finally looks at her, and his gaze pierces right through her. She recalls the memory returned from her latest almost-death – the view of him bathed in golden sunlight, the brewing fondness that had resided in her chest at the mere sight of him. She recalls all his teasing and all his hidden softness, even when he was wearing a disguise for an unaware audience, “It’s become abundantly clear that if you die, I die. I’ve spent the last several days ruminating if it might be smarter for me to simply make a run for it now, to take my chances out there on my own, considering the way you number your days so effortlessly.” 

She swallows hard, unsure of how exactly to respond to all of that. His words fuel the flames of guilt, taking their time as they sink into her psyche, leaving their mark with the utmost significance. He’s being honest – dreadfully, painfully honest. 

And he’s right.

She recalls the way Gale had refused to hear her request to keep Astarion alive should she have fallen victim to her injuries. The way Shadowheart was so quick to snark back at Astarion with such hidden hatred. Even Wyll, the singing hero of their group, didn’t seem to care much for the pale elf. 

The only one in their camp who seemed to have any vested interest in Astarion was Aruna. 

Was it still due to the letter? Was it still due to some silly, ominous mission to save him?

“You saved me,” she whispers out, locking eyes with him, “With Nettie. You saved me before I ever knew of your… condition.” 

He tilts his head, as though he’s speaking to a child, “And just how well do you think it would have bode for me if I were to return to camp without you? Just how do you believe they would have reacted if I returned only to inform them that our fearless leader had been poisoned, and I had done nothing about it?” 

“It was more than that,” she snaps, growing a bit desperate, “Shadowheart told me how you acted while I was incapacitated. Bringing me back was enough to keep away their anger, Astarion. But you still insisted on protecting me, even once I was back here safely. Why are you so Hell-bent on protecting me?” 

“Why are you so Hell-bent on saving me?” 

Eight- no, nine words, and they effectively shut Aruna up. Her mouth snaps close, her heart all but stops. 

Is she willing to lay it all out on the line for him? Is she truly willing to part with that letter in her pack, the one she isn’t even sure has survived the river? 

“It’s… complicated,” she croaks out, realizing the answer was already there. 

No. She’s not willing to. Her shoulders still aren’t strong enough to carry all the consequences that would come with showing Astarion the letter. He could be angry, he could be overly curious, he could have a magical answer that makes it all make sense – his reaction is entirely unpredictable at the end of the day, but would be more for Aruna to bear regardless. 

When his head tilts ever so slightly this time, he’s no longer being condescending, but rather curious. As if lost in his own mind as he studies her in the silence before whispering, “I’m sure it is.” 

It’s not patronizing, it’s not crude – it’s something sincere. As though he understands her. As if he gets it. 

All at once, she’s nearly taking back her gut reaction. She’s nearly pouring it all out, letting the truth spill over the edges of her cup as she floods him with all that has been happening with her since the moment she woke up on that beach. It’s not just the shared memories from when he fed on her; she wants him to know about the letter, to know about the daggers with their peculiar symbols and of the time in which his voice had commanded her how to wield them. She wants to show him the stone she hadn’t paid much attention to as of recently, and she wants to know if the ring in her pouch is recognizable to him in any way. It’s the briefest flash of spontaneity, and she almost does it, because she almost sees the version of him from all those visions. 

But she can’t. She knows she can’t, even without the thrashing of the thing inside of her that has determined this must all stay her dirty little secret.

“I should clean up,” she finally says to try and weasel her way out of the awkwardness at hand. The last thing she wants to do is attempt to peel her armor from the wound, but it has to be done at some point. Better to do it in water, where it might be easier.

Better to do that than let a slip of tongue ruin it all. 

But when she rises off the log slowly, Astarion is following. “Allow me to help you-”

“No,” she doesn’t mean for the decline to come out so biting, but it stabs the air between them regardless. She clears her throat before she tries to continue in a softer tone, “Sorry, I just- I’ll be fine. I’m just going down to the river at the edge of camp, washing away the blood from the armor and all. I’m sure I can make it on my own.” 

His eyes trail over her, almost amused, “Can you even remove your own armor right now?” 

“Of course I can.” 

“Reach your arms over your head for me, then.” 

Damn him. 

He knows she won’t be able to – the stretch would cause her too much pain, and it would prove she couldn’t handle the twisting of removing the leather that weighs her down without his help. 

“Look, my dear,” he drawls, finally seeming more and more himself. His vulnerable confession feels like a distant memory already, and her head spins from the whiplash, “If you won’t allow me to help, at least allow me to keep an eye on you. It’s a bit soon for us to be trusting you around running water alone.” 

She’s not winning this argument. She’d already lost it the moment he’d stood up with her. 

“I don’t need a babysitter,” she grumbles, but she doesn’t put up any further protest. 

He bites his tongue, corners of his mouth twitching with a smile, “Of course you don’t. Consider me a guard, then,  rather than a babysitter.” 

A guard. A shadow. 

“I’d put up more of a fight,” she murmurs, catching the way the light of the fire dances across his skin. It reminds her of the recent memory – the fire’s reflection almost mimics the way the golden hour had encapsulated him in the mountains, but it’s the wrong shade. Too many shadows, too much darkness. Not enough light for the likes of him, she softly realizes, “But I’m sure even if I still decline, you’ll be lurking in the shadows, won’t you?”

His grin says it all. 

“Allow me to gather up supplies, then,” he says, tone smug as he turns towards his tent. 

Aruna nods for a moment, a bit lost in her thoughts, before she suddenly processes what he’s just said. 

“Wait, what?” 

—

Astarion is a hoarder. It’s the only explanation. 

Supplies, as it turns out, was referring to his secret stash of soaps he had managed to snag from the Grove. Aruna tries to convince herself that he paid for them all, but she knows better. 

Even if he’d sold every single useless item their entire group had gathered up thus far and sold it to the poor trader, he never would have accumulated enough gold for his collection. 

“What scent is this one?” Aruna asks as she plucks yet another bar of soap from the bag he’d been keeping them all in. She could see an herb laced throughout it, peeking out through the cloudy white of the soap’s base. 

Astarion glances over from the bag he’d picked up from Shadowheart before joining her on the beach, rummaging through the bandage supplies and healing potion the cleric had provided, “How am I to know? You could – oh, I don’t know – simply smell it yourself.” 

They’re teasing each other again. They’re almost whoever they are in her memories.

Almost, almost, almost. Always a near perfect replica, but something is always just off with it all. Something is always missing.  

She makes a show of doing exactly what he’d sarcastically suggested, bringing the soap close enough to catch the swirling undertones of eucalyptus and peppermint. Makes sense, given the conglomeration of small and sharp leaves mingling with longer, softer green ones. 

“Who did you even nab these off of?” she questions as she tosses the fresh soap back into the cloth bag, digging around until she finds another one to examine. The new one is freckled with purple specks, and the waft of lavender hits her before she even holds it up in front of her face, “Nettie?” 

“No,” Astarion laughs, finally pushing himself up out of the sand they’d dropped into, “Well, some of them. Ethel also had quite the collection. That woman is positively demented, by the way.” 

“You told her everything about our affliction, didn’t you?” 

“Of course I did.” 

Aruna can’t help but let out a small laugh at that. She’s settled on using the lavender soap, deciding that it’s better than the stench of blood and mud that she currently reeks of. 

It’s nice, being this way with Astarion. The night is almost as calm as it is whenever they escape to her hidden sanctuary in the forest overlooking the camp, the notes of the water gently lapping at the pebbles mere feet away only adding to the atmosphere. And although she can’t see the camp as clearly as she does from her boulder, she can certainly hear it better. She can hear the crackling of the fire, hear the occasional chatter amongst the other companions, hear the frequent barks of laughter that must belong to Karlach. 

It’s nice. To exist not far from that world, only a wall of stone and shrubbery away, but still be alone with Astarion. 

“Did she offer any cure to these damned tadpoles?” Aruna asks, clearly putting off the inevitable. 

She’s dreading taking off the armor. She’s convinced herself that it’ll hurt even more than the initial stab did. 

Astarion sees right through her distractions, holding a hand out as an offering to help her up. She wonders if he would have offered the same manners to anyone else back in camp, “Perhaps. And if she did, I’ll be more than all too eager to tell you all about it – after you’re no longer soaked in your own blood.” 

“What?” She takes his hand, wincing despite her best efforts as he hauls her up beside him, “I thought if anyone would enjoy the smell of my bloody perfume, the resident vampire would.” 

She’s already discarded her own leather pack to the sand, her boots placed neatly mere feet from it. But her armor, her garments – that’s what she’s avoiding taking off. Not even out of shyness, but out of fear. 

Apparently, she can face bloodthirsty hordes of goblins and sleep soundly with a vicious vampire in the camp, but draws the line at the quick pain awaiting her. 

“Even blood turns sour,” he says as he scrunches his nose up a bit for emphasis, “Besides, you reek of only Gods-know-what was in that river's depths.” 

“Dead goblins,” she quickly replies, mind whirling with quick responses so that the conversation can continue rather than beginning the dreaded process, “It was definitely dead goblins.” 

“Oh?” It’s not working. He can multitask, it seems. He lifts a finger and motions it for her to twirl in the air between them, “And did those ghastly things die by your fearsome sword?” 

He’s teasing her mercilessly, and she’s grinning like a fool about it. She should be more upset with him after the days of radio silence, but it’s hard to do so when they’ve created this inexplicable bubble of safety. 

She doesn’t turn, almost daring him as she snarks back, “My daring daggers, actually. You know me. An unstoppable force to be reckoned with.” 

He realizes what she’s doing. His face is entirely unimpressed as he crosses his arms, not even offering her the ghost of a smile she’d been vying for. 

“Aruna.” 

“Astarion.”

“Turn around so we can get this damn armor off of you.” 

“Have you always been so eager to see me nude? You know, maybe if you asked nicely-”

His cold hands come down on her shoulders with impeccable speed, a bit rough as he forces her to do as he had been asking the entire time, “Under any other circumstances, I might entertain you and your scandalous assumption.” 

It should leave her uncomfortable, being put in such a vulnerable position. Her back is turned to him, her body following wherever his palms may guide her. She’s completely at his mercy, far too tired to fight back at this point, and she should be more worried to turn her back on a vampire. 

She isn’t. It almost feels natural – there’s not a trace of fear as she feels his breath brush the back of her neck, his hands slowly lifting themselves away from her armored shoulders. 

“You know,” she starts, swallowing the lump growing in her throat, a conglomeration of nerves and confusion. Her wound has gone to even throb preemptively for the pain she’s about to endure, “It feels an awful lot like our roles are reversed right now.” 

“Are they?” 

He sounds far away as his fingertips brush her back, toying with the lacing of her armor. A shiver runs up her spine, and it takes impeccable self-constraint to fight from letting it physically show to him. 

“They are,” her voice is just as soft, nothing more than a whisper carried with the wind, “Usually you’re the one full of scandalous assumptions.” 

“I’d hardly consider my assumptions scandalous,” his fingers have finally reached her lower back, where the lacing ends (or technically begins). He hesitates, halting all movements to the point of his fingers almost completely removing from her before he asks, “May I?” 

She can’t answer him vocally. There’s no real, logical reason as to why she’s so fearful of facing this brief moment of pain. After all she’s gone through in their journeys, peeling armor off a wound is hardly something worth making her cower in indecision. 

And maybe that’s exactly why she is. 

For the first time in what must be a long time, Aruna is being presented with the illusion of a choice. She can choose to let him unlace her armor, to help her out of the layers clinging mercilessly to her wounded self, or she could choose to simply say no. And although she’s well aware if she gave a convincing absolutely not as her answer that Astarion would remove himself from her entirely, she’s also aware of just how inevitable it is. 

The armor has to come off at some point. It’s going to hurt no matter what. But she’s tired, and she’s gone through so much pain already, and she’s brimming with childish petulance. She doesn’t want anymore pain. She doesn’t want any more confusion. 

She doesn’t want any more adventure. Not with these tired bones, not with this sore skin. 

“It’s going to hurt, isn’t it?” she finally whispers. 

He doesn’t have to answer, they both know it’s rhetorical, but he does anyway, “Yes. But only for a moment, I’d assume.” 

She lets out a dry scoff. He’d assume. “Moments add up, Astarion.” 

Camp has gone quieter in the distance, and most of that teasing airiness from earlier has evaporated. Insects chirp in the distance as even the water begins to still. As though Nature herself had begun to listen in to their almost vulnerable moment. 

It’s about more than the wound. 

He finally sighs heavily, “Do you want me to be brutally honest, or would you rather be coddled?” 

“If I wanted coddling, I would have requested Gale’s assistance.” 

Now it’s him scoffing as his hands lift back to her shoulder, encouraging her to turn back around to face him, far more gentle than they had been when turning her away. 

“It’s going to hurt regardless, Aruna. Whether you take off the armor now or in a tenday – it’s going to hurt. The little moments will still add up, regardless of if you give yourself the false hope of a break. It is simply unavoidable,” his earnest ruby eyes pour into hers as she stares into them, scanning for any trace of sincerity. Any trace of humanity, “If you leave it be for a few days, however, I guarantee the wound will end up infected. You could always take the healing potion from Shadowheart before you attempt this all, but the healing hurts just as badly, does it not?” 

“Say it plainly,” she demands, still feeling a resistant trace of youth she can’t remember earning tugging at her heart, “Just call me a fool. Tell me to be a big girl and rip off the bandage.” 

It’s about far more than the wound. 

He hesitates at the worst possible moment. Humanity flashes in his eyes with the most terrible of timing, his facial expression softening with every passing second. For a moment, she almost thinks he won’t do it.

He comes through, though, just as she needs him to. 

“Stop being a fool,” he says the words, almost mechanically, “Rip the bandage off.” 

This time, she turns her back to him of her own volition. 

His hands don’t hesitate to find the lacing once more, catching on quickly to her unspoken permission. He makes quick work of it, beginning with the bottom knot and working his way up the corset of the armor, loosening it up along her spine. Each stretch from his hands makes the leather cling to her body less intensely, allowing her more room to breathe, until she feels the armor begin to unstick from the wound.

It does hurt. Badly enough that her breath catches, but not nearly as badly as the initial stab had. Momentarily.

Once he’s removed the armor, tossing it carelessly into the sand near the rest of her belongings, she assumes his touch will leave her entirely. But it doesn’t. Through her thin undershirt, she feels his hand suddenly find the tight ends up her poorly done braids she’d been donning for a few days now – a feeble attempt to keep her hair out of the way during battles and traveling alike. 

“What are you-” she begins to question, but she’s cut off by his shushing. 

He gives a gentle tug to the left braid, clearly examining the twine she’d use to tie off the style. She can’t see his face, but she can picture the judgemental glance he gives as a tsk whistles from between his teeth just before his fingers also make quick work of that knot. 

“Who has been braiding your hair?” he asks, his voice having returned to its normal pitch of cadence, high and mighty as he slowly begins to undo the braid. His knuckles brush her bare neck, and this time, she can’t hide any shivers that wreck her, “Actually, I’m not even sure if we can consider these braids, they’re so poorly done.”

She’s smiling, softly and timidly, as she responds, “Me.” 

His unraveling pauses, “Excuse me?”

“I’m the one who braided my hair. Who else would it have been?” 

She finally dares to twist and take a look at his face, only to find it contorted with an odd bemusement, “Dear Gods. Are you truly telling me you’re not only inadequate with your daggers, but also your hands when it comes to your own hair?” 

She should probably be offended, and try to defend herself with the honest truth; she’s unfamiliar with this hair, with this body, to the point in which something as mundane as braiding her own hair has proven to be its own challenge. She’s still adjusting to the thickness of it, to figuring out the best way to keep the soft strands entrapped between her fingers as she had attempted to blindly navigate the weaving of three simple sections. It had honestly frustrated her for hours. The reminder of just how hopeless she still feels as she navigates the world feeling like a newborn babe, fragmented memories still not quite enough to let her make a home out of her own skin, her own hair.

And yet, she doesn’t. She only gives a joking shrug, that hurts only a little, as she grins, “It is a lot of hair, in all fairness.”

“It’s a simple braid, Aruna.” 

He’s finished unraveling the first braid, her scalp singing with relief as the heavy locks of her hair fall against her back. She isn’t surprised when he repeats the process with the second braid as well, careful fingers separating three uneven strands until all tension of the make-shift hairdo has been discarded. The thick curtain of hair does little to protect her against the chill of the breeze rolling off the water beside them, but she’s not even focused on that.

All Aruna can think about is cold fingers meeting her skin in skittish motions, the waft of his breath across her ear as he would mindlessly lean in closer throughout the entirely innocent act. 

If he were still living, breathing, radiating warmth, she has no doubt she’d feel it against her back. But his chill that runs off his body in waves only mingles with the night air, the smell of rosemary hardly breaking through the smell of her own dried blood. 

“And just where exactly did you become an expert in braiding hair?” she finds herself blurting out, just barely noticing the way her eyes had fluttered shut at the feeling of his fingers in her hair. Her own curiosity begins to chew through her bones, and she can’t help but add on, “A lover, perhaps?” 

Astarion snorts at that, his breath hitting the shell of her ear once more, “Are you asking me if I have a lover awaiting me back in Baldur’s Gate?” 

“I-” she cuts off, voice choking up in her throat as Astarion catches her off guard – his fingers don’t leave her hair. Instead, now that the braids are undone, he’s meticulously raking them through the strands, gently detangling as he goes. Her entire body nearly shivers in response, “I suppose I am.” 

“And if I say yes?” he drawls, fingers lifting back up to the roots of her hair, repeating the motion of brushing through, “Who’s to say I don’t have some poor soul weeping over my disappearance back in the city? Haunting all our old taverns, wailing about their long lost love?” 

Aruna isn’t sure why, but the image he paints sparks something nasty in her gut. Something rabid and burning, viciously green and snarling as she attempts to tamper it down. 

Is she jealous? She couldn’t possibly be jealous. Absolutely not. 

But she can picture it so quickly – Astarion, backlit with a lively city, curled up in a dark corner of a tavern. A private booth, somewhere himself and his lover would call their own. She can picture it so perfectly. A graceful and poised hand falling on his shoulder, dangerous red lips brushing his jaw, someone’s stubble raking against his exposed throat and shivers causing his spine to shake just as hers has this entire interaction. A beautiful woman, a handsome man – it doesn’t matter which image is flickering in the space beside Astarion, it causes more of the hideous feeling to bubble up more ferociously. 

Someone making Astarion smile that mischievous grin that puts the stars to shame. Someone making Astarion laugh with the melody that makes every possible song to ever be heard after fall flat. Someone, anyone, having Astarion that way. Knowing him that way.

Knowing him in the way she almost swears she might have known him, in all those dusty and unclear visions she’s been so unfortunately gifted with. 

It’s not funny anymore. 

“Then I’d say congratulations are in order,” Aruna finally replies flatly. 

Astarion can sense her shift in mood, and his fingers leave her hair, “By all means, don’t hold back your enthusiasm, dear.” 

She’s not jealous. She cannot possibly be jealous.

She isn’t yearning to see that charismatic smile now. She isn’t trying to formulate a punch line to elicit one of those reckless cackles from him. She isn’t. 

But without his fingers in her hair, she’s suddenly picturing them in someone else’s, and it nearly crumples her. All she can see is green. Terrible, sickening green. 

“Who says I’m not being enthusiastic?” she scowls, ready to pull out of his reach. 

“Oh, I don’t know,” he’s speaking in nearly-slurring words, almost taunting her, and when she does move to take a step forward, his hands delicately fall onto her shoulders. Careful, calculated, gentle. “Perhaps it’s that pitiful tone, or perhaps it’s these very tense shoulders that have come out of nowhere,” He uses his hands on her as leverage, pulling her back microscopically as he steps forward. In an instant, her back is pressed to his chest, his lips brushing the lobe of her ear as he whispers, “Dare I say it seems that our dearest sorcerer is jealous?” 

He’s said it outloud. She hates him, because he’s said it outloud. 

“I am not jealous,” she snaps, spinning around to face him. His hands fall away from her easily, his grip never having been very strong to begin with. 

“Oh, but you are.” 

“Fuck off, Astarion.” 

It’s clearly nothing more than a game to him. She can see it in his eyes, in the way the red glows to life as though she’s presenting him with the challenge of a lifetime. 

“There’s nothing to be ashamed of, my dear,” he says in a lilting tone, head curiously tilting, “It’s a natural reaction to the possibility that someone as charming as myself may no longer be on the market.” 

Aruna nearly grinds her teeth to dust, jaw tense as she narrows her eyes, “I’m not ashamed, because I’m not jealous.” 

Oh, but she is, isn’t she?  She’s terribly, terribly jealous, and it’s beginning to settle into her bones as she stops fighting down the feeling. Amethyst eyes have turned green, and her stomach bile is climbing up her throat at the insinuation Astarion has laid out before her. 

Someone else feeling his fingers run through their hair, someone else feeling those cold lips graze their ears so precisely. 

“Admit it,” he says firmly, eyes still alight with playfulness as he takes a step closer, dipping his face down closer to hers, “Just admit that it pains you to even think of the lovers I may have waiting for me back in the city.” 

Those words stoke burning fires in her stomach, each one making her insides churn. Someone who isn’t her, curling up against his body. Someone who isn’t her, resting their head upon his shoulder. 

“I can feel it, you know? Through those precious little brain fiends of ours,” he pauses, tapping a finger to his temple, a salacious grin spreading slowly across his features, “All those ugly emotions aren’t easily hidden.”

She doesn’t like this game. He may be enjoying himself, but every word is a weapon against her. It’s becoming something more than the image of him with someone else – it’s becoming a trigger to fantasizing about herself in those scenarios with Astarion. 

His fingers running up her spine. His lips grazing along her neck and collar bones. The weight of his body against her through the night, both in images of him hovering over her as his hips meet hers in waves as well as the mundane – the innocent thought of sharing a bed with him, and nothing more. Sharing dark corners of taverns. Sharing snide remarks. Sharing the early mornings and the late afternoons with him. 

She’s past jealousy. She’s yearning. 

The realization slaps her in the face, sends her reeling a few steps backwards. Astarion watches in real time as the devastation crosses her features, all the surprise impossible to mask.

What does she do with that? Where did these thoughts even come from? 

If the jealous feelings had been enough to fan the flames across the connection, the pathetic desires are enough to extinguish it all. Between her physical reaction and surely the way he felt that terrible need twisting inside her chest, Astarion’s playful expression melts away to something more serious. 

When she flinches as he raises his hands back up, with mere intentions of laying them on her shoulders and nothing else, she swears she sees a flash of sorrow. 

“Well,” he starts, appearing more awkward now than he has ever before with a curt clearing of his throat as his hands drop back to his sides, “I suppose my work here is done.”

The removal of her armor had hurt in a terrible sort of way, but nothing compares to the sting that had echoed in her chest at all the thoughts she’d just had of Astarion. Images of him with other strangers, images of him with her – they pierce her all the same and make the tear of leather from skin nothing more than a hollow ache she’s all but forgotten. 

She hadn’t even noticed that some of the scabbing had broken away, and fresh blood was pooling to the surface of her skin. 

He looks away from her quickly, eyes darting across her belongings laid out on the ground rather than her eyes. Anywhere but her.  When she glances down, she can see the deep crimson that’s ruined the shirt entirely, bleeding out far past that just the circumference of the wound. 

“There is no lover,” he finally says after spending so many moments silent that she had begun to wonder if he was even still there, right in front of her, just out of her vision as she focuses on the stain of the shirt.

“Excuse me?”

“I have no lover awaiting me in the city,” he clarifies as he finally stops diverting his glances from her, looking painfully earnest when she dares to glance back up, “I learned various hairstyles on- well, let’s simply say I’m not an only child, shall we?” 

Aruna’s mouth falls agape, face softening at what he was insinuating. 

Astarion, with a sister. Or any siblings. The image of him learning how to plait braids while sitting criss-cross behind a mirror image to himself. A softness he must only reserve to so few souls across Faerun, and most certainly family.

She’s been so caught up in learning of his vampiric past, of all the evil that is Cazador, that she’d never considered he had a life beyond those atrocities. Beyond cruel meals of rats and luring unsuspecting victims back to Cazador.

She hadn’t even considered the topic of a lover might be a sore one, given the entire situation with Cazador. 

“You have siblings?” is all she can formulate in response, seemingly peering right into his soul for just a moment. 

His forced smile is almost painful. More grimace than grin, “It’s complicated.”

Complicated? No, complicated was the inability to even remember a childhood, to even remember if one had siblings. Whatever Astarion was alluding to, he clearly remembers. 

“What does that even mean-”

“Do you need any further assistance?” he motions to that ruined shirt still clinging to her body, changing the topic with a curtness that made Aruna only want to argue further. She wants to fight, she wants to pry her way into his mind if only for a moment. “Or shall I leave you to it?” 

There’s so much she doesn’t know about him. Things the visions won’t reveal to her, nor will the man standing in front of her. He’s somehow toeing the line between tangibility and impalpability, and while it’s impressive, it feels like it’s killing her. She wants to know – she wants to see it all. Every single thing he’s hiding from her, every single thing that the torn shred of her within herself swears it knows. 

She can’t say any of that, though. Instead, she can only pathetically whisper, “Will you stay with me?” 

His nod does very little to lift the weight off her chest, to lessen the need, but it’s certainly a start.

taglist: @emmaisgonnacry @writinginthetwilight @moonmunson @generalstephkenobi @notthisagainpls @chaoticbardlady99 @animated-unicorn

if you'd like to join the taglist, simply let me know <3

[telleroftime]

He's bald! He's bald and he's bullying people that have hair!

AKA, It's 3.20 am and I'm experimenting. At the moment I like his face shape and the marking, but the starfish thingies? Yeah, I'm not set. I have an idea though. I could make clumps of the lionfish thingies so they look relatively star-shaped.

[capricores]

send me a placement (ie: gemini sun, virgo venus, moon in 10th, etc) and i'll list out their green vs red flags!!!! (one placement per ask please!!!)

or send a synastry or composite placement for the green/red flags [or moreso positives/negatives] (ie: moon in 12th house synastry/composite chart) (or pisces sun x gemini sun synastry is fine! two placements like that is ok in this case)

[mossmx]

I keep drawing Javert with blue tintes...

but it's just... his mind is rooted in the sky, he's the higher force and the angel that will fall

Valjean is rooted in earth and dirt but I think they see the other the opposite of what the character's archetypes do, to Valjean Javert is a guard dog, the tiger, the hunter; to Javert Madeleine is the Saint, Valjean (in the end) is the real goodness he tought he was protecting by following the law. The first concepts are symbolically earthly and the second ones are symbolically celestial...

I don't know where I'm going with it, but I think it's interesting that my art latched very strongly with this connection, I really want to explore more "celestial" Valjean colours and a more "earthy" Javert art palettes

[divinecreation]

Ok I'm just now realizing that the moon changed signs when Mello was born so depending on where and what time it was he could either have a Gemini moon or a Cancer moon hmmm much to think about

[yoursjaeyun]

enhypen’s hyung line reaction to their 3-year-old daughter being angry at them ᡣ𐭩

pairings. enhypen x fem!reader | genre. fluff, imagines | wc. 1k+ (?) | warnings. not proofread | an. hai i have returned from my grave :] /gen hope you all like thisbekdnd promise i’ll come back w something better ! just starting off with something small for the time being <3 didn’t expect this to be so long so i apologize :[ love n miss u all.

이희승 (lhs)

it was a typical afternoon in the lee house, but today, a dramatic showdown was in full swing. your 3 year old daughter, with her puffed-up cheeks and a frown that could rival a storm cloud, was clearly upset with her dad. you watched from the kitchen, trying to hold back a laughter, as heeseung crouched down at her eye level, desperately trying to placate her. "sweetheart, what's the matter? did daddy forget something?" he asked, his voice a mix of concern and confusion. she crossed her arms and glared at him. “you didn’t let me use the purple crayon!” she declared, as if this was the most grievous of parental offenses. heeseung, ever the diplomat, knelt down and tried to reason with her. “but princess, the purple crayon is for special drawings, remember? you promised to use it for your masterpiece.” her response was a huffy, “but i wanted to color the sun purple!” heeseung blinked, clearly trying to understand the logic behind a purple sun. he scratched his head and gave you a helpless glance. you only stifled a giggle and watched as he continued to negotiate. “okay, how about this,” heeseung began, putting on his best ‘super serious dad’ face, “i’ll make you a deal. you use the yellow crayon for the sun today, and tomorrow, i’ll let you draw a purple sun, a purple moon, and even a purple spaceship.” her eyes widened at the promise of interstellar coloring adventures. she uncrossed her arms and considered the offer. “deal,” she said, but not without giving him a stern look. as heeseung breathed a sigh of relief and stood up, you could see the sheer relief in his eyes. “you’re the best, daddy,” she said, her pout melting into a smile as she grabbed her yellow crayon. heeseung ruffled her hair and gave me a warm glance, his eyes twinkling with affection. “glad to be of service, princess,” he said, smiling as he watched her eagerly scribble away and winked proudly at you as you leaned against the counter, catching his eye with a loving smile.

( the rest under this line! )

박종성 (pjs)

it was one of those rare, peaceful evenings when the chaos of daily life seemed to take a break. you were curled up on the couch with a book, enjoying a rare moment of tranquility, while your husband was in the kitchen, attempting to cook dinner—a task he was only slightly more adept at than his three-year-old daughter as she created abstract art with spaghetti. the quiet, however, was abruptly shattered by a high-pitched wail. you looked up, immediately recognizing the sound of your daughter’s tantrum. you sighed and set your book aside, heading towards the source of the noise. as you reached the kitchen, you saw jay standing there, looking bewildered, while your daughter sat on the floor, her face scrunched up in a fierce scowl, tears streaming down her cheeks. jay was holding a spatula in one hand and a half-cooked piece of chicken in the other. “what happened?” you asked, trying to suppress a smile as you took in the scene before you. jay looked up, his eyes wide. “i don’t know! i was just trying to make dinner, and she—” he pointed to his daughter, who was now dramatically flailing her arms. “she’s mad at me for some reason. i didn’t even get to ask her how she wanted her chicken cooked!” you knelt beside her, who immediately stopped crying as if she’d just noticed you for the first time. “sweetheart, what’s wrong?” you asked gently. she glared at jay with all the intensity her tiny frame could muster. “daddy’s mean! he put peas in the pasta! i hate peas!” jay’s eyes widened in surprise. “i thought you liked the green bits of happiness!” she shook her head angrily. “no! no peas! only noodles!” you suppressed a chuckle and gave jay a sympathetic glance. “well, jay, it looks like you’ve got a culinary crisis on your hands.” jay groaned and you only smiled, your heart softening as you looked at the chaotic but lovable scene before you. “it’s okay, baby. just talk to her. maybe she’ll understand if you explain why you added the peas.” jay took a deep breath and crouched down to her level. “my sweet angel, i’m really sorry. i thought the peas would make the pasta taste better. can you give daddy another chance?” she stared at him, her little brow furrowed as she considered his plea. “but... no more peas?” jay shook his head earnestly. “no more peas. i promise. just delicious, no-green-thing pasta.” her frown slowly began to waver. “okay... but i want a strawberry smoothie please..” jay looked at you, his face a mix of relief and exhaustion. “do i look like a smoothie-making machine?” you laughed softly and gave him a reassuring kiss on the lips. “you’re doing great. and don’t worry, i’ll handle the smoothie.” jay smiled weakly and reached out to her. “deal?” she nodded, finally letting go of her anger and allowing a small smile to form. she reached up for a hug, which jay gladly accepted, pulling her into his arms. you watched the tender moment between them.

심재윤 (sjy)

jake’s face twisted into a comedic mix of confusion and concern as he tried to navigate his three-year-old daughter’s latest meltdown. you watched from the kitchen, holding back your laughter as jake, ever the doting father, attempted to reason with his little girl, who was currently giving him the coldest of shoulders while clutching a teddy bear like it was her lifeline. “baby girl,” jake said, crouching down to her level with a look of exaggerated seriousness, “i’m really sorry about the ice cream. i didn’t know you wanted bubblegum, okay? i promise i’ll get you the bubblegum next time.” her little brows knitted together, her lips in a small pout that would’ve melted anyone’s heart, except she seemed intent on maintaining her grudge. “no, daddy! you forgot the sprinkles!” jake’s eyes widened as if he’d been struck by a thunderbolt. “oh no, sprinkles! i knew i forgot something!” he straightened up, looking around as if sprinkles might magically appear in the room. “i’ll get you some right now.” as he stumbled off to find the elusive sprinkles, you couldn’t help but interject, your amusement barely concealed. “jake, honey, i think the sprinkles are a lost cause. maybe just a hug will fix this?” jake’s face fell slightly, but he quickly squared his shoulders and marched back over, now armed with a massive, exaggeratedly apologetic grin. “baby, i’m so, so sorry for forgetting the sprinkles. how about a hug and a promise to never forget them again?” her stern face softened just a fraction, but she still shook her head. “no hug! i’m mad!” you watched as jake’s comedic struggle continued, every attempt met with her determined frown. “okay, what if i also give you a big, extra special hug from me?” jake tried, eyes wide with hope. she looked at you, then back at jake, as if weighing the merits of his offer. with a dramatic sigh that would put a soap opera star to shame, she finally relented and held out her arms. “okay… but only if mommy hugs me too.” jake practically beamed with relief, enveloping her in a bear hug, which she returned with all the fierceness a three-year-old could muster. you joined in, laughing softly as you wrapped your arms around them both. “there we go, the family hug fix.” jake looked up at you with a mock-solemn expression, his eyes twinkling with the kind of mischief you knew all too well. “i’m really going to work on those sprinkles. maybe i should just carry them with me at all times.” you raised an eyebrow, smiling. your daughter now placid and cuddled in the middle, looked up at her parents with a satisfied grin. “but daddy has to do better next time.” jake nodded solemnly. “you got it. i’ll be the best sprinkle-and-ice-cream-daddy there ever was.”

박성훈 (psh)

sunghoon’s reaction when his little princess gets mad at him is always a sight to see. one afternoon, as you were trying to tidy up the living room, you heard the telltale stomp of tiny feet approaching. your daughter, with her pouty face and crossed arms, stormed into the room, her small brow furrowed in the most dramatic fashion. "daddy, i’m mad at you!" she announced with the seriousness only a three-year-old can muster. sunghoon, who had been helping you clean the coffee table, immediately straightened up, his eyes wide with concern. he was always so attentive, especially when it came to his little girl. you couldn’t help but chuckle at how seriously he took her tantrums. he knelt down to her level, “why are you mad at me, princess?” he asked, his voice as soft and gentle as it could be. she folded her arms tighter and gave him the classic toddler response: “because you didn’t help me with my puzzle!” she pointed to the half-finished puzzle on the floor, her tiny finger jabbing at the pieces as if they were to blame for her frustration. sunghoon’s face fell into a comically exaggerated look of guilt. “oh no— i’m so sorry! i was just finishing up, but that’s no excuse. let me help you right now.” he scooped her up with a dramatic flourish, and she squealed with both surprise and delight. as he carried her back to the puzzle, you could see the determination in his eyes as if he were about to perform a rescue mission. sunghoon took his job as a dad very seriously, and his efforts to mend the situation were both endearing and slightly over-the-top. “okay,” he said, placing her gently on the floor next to the puzzle. “i promise i’ll make it up to you. daddy’s going to fix this puzzle like a superhero,” with exaggerated movements, he started picking up the puzzle pieces and placing them in the correct spots. he made goofy sound effects with each piece, “whoosh!” and “bam!” as if he were fighting a villain instead of just putting together a puzzle. your daughter watched him with wide eyes, her previous anger melting away into giggles as sunghoon made silly faces and pretended to struggle with the puzzle pieces. as he worked, you could see the loving glances he would cast your way, his silent way of saying, “i’m doing this for us.” despite the chaos of parenting and the little disagreements, his devotion to both you and your daughter was always evident. his playful attitude and willingness to dive headfirst into whatever made his daughter happy were qualities you adored. after a few minutes, the puzzle was complete. sunghoon triumphantly held up the finished product with a loud— “ta-da! daddy’s superhero skills save the day,” he declared, his grin as wide as ever. your daughter clapped her hands and giggled, her earlier irritation forgotten. she threw her tiny arms around him in a hug, her face lighting up with joy. “thank you, daddy!” you walked over and gave sunghoon a quick kiss on the cheek, your way of showing your appreciation for his efforts. “looks like you’ve earned the title of super dad,” you teased. sunghoon beamed at you, his pride evident. “anything for my girls.”

[astrosamara]

Astrology Observations #3

🩵Venus in 8th tend to not date until later in life because love and relationships are serious to them. When they do get into a relationship, it can end up transforming them entirely. Saturn aspecting Venus can cause even further delays in romance.

🩵Mars in Leo rarely show their anger. It's not that they don't get angry, but they feel much too proud to let others know they're angry. I feel like people would assume all fire mars are quick and prone to anger, but I've rarely seen Mars in Leo get angry.

🩵I've met so many Sagittarius risings that have lived incredibly difficult lives with dark pasts. This usually surprises me since they're ruled by Jupiter. I wonder if it has something to do with their Scorpio 12th house?

🩵Sun in 7th are very non-confrontational people. They tend to be people pleasers who prefer being passive in conflict. They can struggle a lot with caring about what others think and because of that, they can struggle with expressing themselves genuinely and without fear of judgement.

🩵Pluto in your chart can show where you'll experience the greatest transformation in your life. I have Pluto in the 9th and higher education, spirituality, and traveling have deeply impacted my life the most. With Pluto energy though, this transformation tends to come through very dark and challenging periods.

🩵Pisces placements can spend so much time alone and not be bothered at all. In fact, their alone time is sacred to them. They're the type to get happy when plans are canceled.

🩵8th house stelliums are prone to heavy depression throughout their life due to how tapped in they are to the darker aspects of life. There's an unavoidable intensity and deepness to them. This familiarity with darkness can build this incredible resilience to get them through anything life throws their way. A lot of people with this stellium are drawn to spirituality as well, due to this interest in what is "hidden" from us.

🩵Capricorn placements are so blunt and their dry humor is my favorite. They have this no bullshit tell it how I see it energy to them that my Scorpio self loves. Capricorn humor is so underrated imo.

🩵Gemini moons and especially suns seem to know so many people and have so many connections. I feel like they're just naturally friendly and sociable. Even if they're introverted, they have this natural talent for communicating with others.

🩵Aquarius women have an otherworldly beauty to them. They look like beautiful mythical creatures. Their appearance is so unique and captivating. They also tend to have a style that stands out from the crowd in some way.

🩵Sagittarius MC/Jupiter in 10th dream of a career that can provide them freedom and opportunity. They're not meant for a traditional career at all and if they do have this type of career, it can really affect them negatively. Traveling can be prominent with this placement.

🩵Jupiter in 2nd/8th can have a lot of success with money in this lifetime. This is the creating generational wealth placement. Ofc with any placement, the sign it's in and aspects to Jupiter can be a stronger indicator of how this money comes in and how challenging the process is.

🩵Scorpio and Aquarius placements hate authority and restriction. They want to live their life their own way without anyone telling them what to do. They're the true rebels of the zodiac.

🩵Jupiter conjunct Ascendant/Jupiter in 1st can feel naturally lucky. They seem to get out of issues easily and have a very abundant and optimistic approach to life, even during times they feel like they've hit rock bottom. They don't linger in pessimism for too long because they see the bigger picture easier than most.

[novy2sirius]

˗ˏˋ astro notes volume 7 ´ˎ˗

trigger warning: unevolved virgos, trauma, abuse ♡

these r solely about isolated placements so take this with a grain of salt since the whole chart matters ♡

some of these r more opinion based ♡

. . . . . . . . . . ╰──╮ ♡ all of my tuts ♡ ╭──╯ . . . . . . . . . .

: ̗̀➛ scorpio moon is one of the most common placements i’ve seen among celebrities who have made it BIG like I’m talking super famous celebrities. examples: beyonce, lady gaga, kylie jenner, miley cyrus, margot robbie, etc

: ̗̀➛ i’m sorry but low vibrational virgos r so hard for me to be around. they rly r dream crushers and too serious. they can be funny at times but a lot of them that i tell my desires in life to they say “that’s unrealistic and will never happen” or when someone makes a joke sometimes they’ll say “that wasn’t even funny” even when i laughed rly hard at that persons joke. i don’t get it

: ̗̀➛ uranus in the 9h/12h ppl can be rly great astrologers. they have a lot of unique takes that nobody would ever even think abt. they can become rly popular online from talking abt it too

: ̗̀➛ due to numerology capricorn’s should marry sagittarius’. sagittarius’ usually do not get along with other sagittarius’ for a long period of time

: ̗̀➛ everyone says the best planets to look at for a job r 2h or 10h ones, but every rich person’s chart u look at, their 11h will align with their career most. the 11h is associated with gains, especially in vedic astrology. if u want to be wealthy go by ur 11h sign/11h lord. the 2h, 6h, and 10h can be helpful too tho as well as venus/jupiter

: ̗̀➛ low vibrational aries placements do not let go of things and will continue to try and seek revenge when they’re hurt by something. when they’re higher vibrational tho they tend to be more focused on goals in life and being productive rather than wasting their anger on others

: ̗̀➛ you’ll notice a lot of musicians or actors have a capricorn mercury or venus. this is bc our capricorn placements can tell abt our job and mercury/venus can be associated with music/acting (the arts in general rly)

: ̗̀➛ the part of fortune rly isn’t talked abt enough. if u utilize it u have the power to become extremely successful regardless of what other placements u have

: ̗̀➛ i see solar return observations about each annual sun sign all the time, but i don’t think those ppl realize the sun sign doesn’t change in solar return. it’s always staying the same as ur natal sun sign bc it’s ur sun returning to the same position it was in when u were born. the house changes tho bc they’re not gonna be the same every year on ur bday

: ̗̀➛ asteroid juno (3) in libra/the 7th house can mean that there will be lots of harmony in ur marriage dynamic and u both will do a lot of romantic gestures for one another

: ̗̀➛ asteroid nessus (7066) in the 8h can indicate someone who has endured a lot of trauma or ab*se in their life. usually these ppl just don’t have easy lives

[lewisvinga]

me n my dumbasses | charles leclerc x fem! driver! reader x pierre gasly

summary; just f1’s fave ‘childhood besties to lovers’ throuple being iconic

fc; various girls on pinterest

warnings; cursing i think

taglist; @namgification @louvrepool @locelscs @thehufflepuffavenger1 @minseok-smaus @goldenmclaren @ollieshifts @lavisenri @graciewrote @xoscar03

note; requested !

masterlist !

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liked by charles_leclerc, pierregasly, and others !

yourusername: average day w the most stupid people in all of france ( and monaco ) (( i unfortunately have dealt with them my whole life and i also unfortunately love them ))

tagged; pierregasly, charles_leclerc

charles_leclerc: but pierre was first in ur last photo dump ☹️

pierregasly: mate you almost killed us …😀

charles_leclerc: NOT MY FAULT YOU’RE BOTH GOOD LOOKING?? also did you just mate zone me?

yourusername: think abt ur actions of almost killing ur bf and gf , charles leclerc.

charles_leclerc: yes ma’am🫡

username: CHAPIEY/N DUMPPP

username: leave it up to y/n to post the most bf pics of them 😫

username: i’d kill to have dealt w them my whole life miss y/n UR LUCKYY😖

username: charles is so real for almost crashing his ferrari bc y/n and pierre looked toooo good 😭

yourusername: yeah well now he’s in the timeout corner ://

charles_leclerc: this is NOT fun

pierregasly: #deserved

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yourusername uploaded to their story !

[caption 1; #inspectingpierresform🤓] [caption 2; complaining that i’m taking pics instead of working out 🙄🙄 #tattletale] [caption 3; wauw hot boys]

landonorris gross

landonorris dumbasses

yourusername hey 😾

yourusername they’re MY dumbasses 😪

pierregasly “pleaseee can i work out with you guys 🥺🥺”

yourusername i didn’t want to break a nail🙁🙁

pierregasly you’re so high maintenance

yourusername u have known me since 2011 WHY are u shocked

yourusername u both made me like this btw

pierregasly and we don’t regret it a bit, cherie 😁

charles_leclerc i see u liked our selfie from when u went to the bathroom to put makeup on before filming tiktoks😁

yourusername wanted to look cute for the camera and for my dumbasses can u blame a girl😖

charles_leclerc DUMBASSES?? i’m smart , pierre maybe but not me !

yourusername oh babe

yourusername u both are ! but it’s ok i love u both💓

charles_leclerc yeah yeah we love u too

username LMAOOOO THEYRE SO😭

username pierre’s ‘mom i threw up’ stance 💀

username never stop these queen

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liked by pierregasly, charles_leclerc, and others !

yourusername: just me n my dumbasses against the world ❤️‍🩹

tagged; charles_leclerc, pierregasly

charles_leclerc: love u too dumbass xx

yourusername: u see i get why I called u a dumbass but why are u calling me a dumbass? do u hate me??☹️☹️

charles_leclerc: cherie no wait pls

pierregasly: im surprised you still fall for her lame sarcasm even if we’ve been dealing w her since 2011🙄

yourusername: hey RUDE ur the ones who wanted ME first 😾😾

yourusername: sorry for worrying u pooks love u xx charles_leclerc

pierregasly: love u dumbass 😪😪

yourusername: ur more of a dumbass than me

carlossainz55: can we confirm that charles is the biggest one out of you three ??

pierregasly: oh 100%😂

charles_leclerc: THATS NOT EVEN FAIR??😀

georgerussell63: idk man, i’ve received 394829 messages from y/n about being scared you’re going to burn the house down from making toast…😬😬

username: i love how they never had a honey moon phase it’s just straight bullying w a side of love 😭😭😭

username: childhood besties to lover core fr

username: THEHRE NEVER SERIOUS IM IN TEARSSSSSS

username: the pure unseriousness from chapiey/n is why i adore them sm😭😂

username: reason 92893 i adore them;

username: when the trio suddenly becomes romantic

username: u guys ever think y/n’s like ‘kissing my homies’ 🤔🤔

charles_leclerc: yes actually …..

yourusername: me n my homies doing romantic stuffs 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨👨‍❤️‍💋‍👨

username: just clocked in y/n dealt w their awkward phases

yourusername: ‘twas hell

pierregasly: like teenage u was any better 🙄

username: ‘my dumbasses’ i love them😖

[martian-astro10]

Astrology observations- Part 1 (use whole signs)

🍃 Venus in 1st house people have THICK hair (I have Venus in 1st and 3 of my friends have it as well, and we all have really voluminous frizzy/curly hair, that's hard to manage)

🍃 Saturn in 3rd can mean that you'll start college later than your peers ( I have it and my student visa got rejected 3 times😭😭 and by the time I started college, all my friends were already in their third year)

🍃 Saturn in 3rd can also mean that you start dating later than your friends or it could mean that you just aren't THAT interested in casual relationships, you probably want something serious.

🍃 Mars in 1st, if in friendly signs, can mean having a really high sex drive, sexual attraction is very important for you in a relationship. (I have it, Mars in 1st in Aries, and it's true for me, I also have rahu there so I play a lot of sports to control this, like I really exhaust myself to the bone, meditating also helps. hypersexuality is not good, so just make sure that you don't go overboard)

🍃 Moon trine Saturn people are really respectful towards women. They were either raised by a single mother or their mother made the important decisions in the family. I have it but I also know a guy who has this and he's just the sweetest and even though his mom is a sahm and his dad earns, his mom is the more powerful one��, like his dad just earns and gives all the money to his mom. It's really cute.

🍃 Venus square midheaven people were often bullied for their appearance when young, from what I've noticed, and that's why they grow up to become people pleasers, because they don't want to be the "outcast" again. A lot of self esteem issues as well. You guys are the type to wake your partner up in the middle of the night and ask them "do you love me" and then they probably reply with "we've been married for 10 years"

🍃 Neptune square ascendant is that "HOW DO I REALLY LOOK" placement, they're the ones who get really frustrated because they look different in the mirror and camera. (I have this 🥲👍) It sucks, also you guys are obsessed with personality tests

🍃 Venus in 1st house people care a lot about a person's appearance in a relationship, it's not wrong but just make sure that it's not the ONLY thing that you focus on. I also think that it sort of stems from your own insecurity, like you guys think that you aren't attractive so being with a conventionally attractive person makes up for it, IN YOUR MIND, so work on increasing your self confidence

🍃 Moon opposite Venus people want to be affectionate but the fear of getting rejected stops them from doing so. ( I have this and sometimes I get this urge to just hug or kiss someone, like on the cheeks, friend, family, romantic partner, but then I assume that the person won't like it, so i give up. Here's the thing, ASK, this is what I started doing, now whenever I feel like that, i just go- can i kiss you on the cheek, if the person says yes, I do it, and back off if they say no) oppositions and squares are not bad aspects okay, you just need to learn how to deal with them, so yeah, ask people, don't be scared, they won't bite, some of them might, but don't hold yourself back because of them 😘🫂

🍃 Sun square Pluto women, are men scared of you?? (If yes, then, AS THEY FUCKING SHOULD). I have this and i think men find me intimidating (I'm the least intimidating person EVER), but also, I feel like, this makes you kind of unable to deal with men, you always wanna be in control, a lot of trust issues, you also think all men are shit (WHICH THEY ARE) but also you guys need to realise that some men are actually......kinda.....good🤢, almost threw up while writing this, ewwww, actually you know what, keep on having trust issues, BE IN CONTROL

[moonstruckme]

hi! i've been stalking your page for literal hours and i love how you write poly marauders so much!! could you write how they would react to the reader coming home from a night out with a black eye or something like that?? <33333

Thank you lovely! And thanks for being so patient while I took literal months to get to this request haha, love you! <3

cw: reader is drunk and has a black eye

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.2k words

“Hey, gorgeous,” Sirius says as you come in the door. Remus shushes him, and he lowers his voice. “How’re the girls?” 

“Good,” you reply, cautiously quiet as you kick off your shoes. 

Rounding the couch, you see James asleep on Remus’ shoulder, a small puddle of drool soaking into the material of the taller boy’s pajama shirt. They’re all in pajamas, actually. Envy strikes you through the heart. They look so unbearably cozy, better than you in your scratchy jeans and too-tight top. 

“I hope you didn’t wait up,” you say as Remus flips his book closed, and Sirius chuckles. You’ll learn later that you’d been slurring your words. 

“We don’t mind,” Remus confirms your suspicions. “You didn’t walk home by yourself, did you?” 

You shake your head, flopping into the spot beside James on the couch. Only you hadn’t quite thought that through, and Remus tuts as he starts to rouse. 

“Sorry,” you whisper. “Um, the girls dropped me off out front.” 

Sirius nods his approval. James hums as he picks his head up off Remus’ shoulder, spotting you. 

“Hey, lovie.” He transfers his affections to you, wrapping his arms around your neck and letting himself weigh heavily against your front. You giggle, your favorite monkey. “Did you just get home?” 

“Uh-huh. Oh, Jamie!” You gasp as a memory makes its way out of the fog of your brain. “I saw something you would have loved.” 

“What’s that?” he asks. 

“We came across a dog park, and I didn’t even know those could be open at night but—” 

“No, angel.” He’s stopped hugging you, an unpleasant development, one of his hands leaving your neck to hold your cheek. “What’s that on your face?” 

“Hm?” You don’t remember anything getting on your face. “I dunno. Jamie, I’m trying to tell you about the puppies.” 

“Just hold on, darling, sorry. Is that a bruise?” 

“What?” Sirius is in front of you before you know what’s happened. Vampire-fast, you think fascinatedly, wondering if he’d have been a streak across your vision had you bothered to look. Though, to be fair, your vision is generally streaky at the moment. He takes your chin in his hand, tilting it up and to the side. “Remus, point your light here.” 

There’s a low creaking as Remus adjusts his reading lamp, and then you’re squeezing your eyes shut. 

“Jesus, what the hell?” 

Remus curses softly, and you squint to see him leaning closer to you. Your boyfriends’ faces crowd your vision like a three-headed monster. 

“Baby,” Sirius says, sounding heartbroken, “what happened?” 

“I don’t—can you move the light away?” 

More creaking, and you can see again. You blink, eyes watery, and Sirius lays a painstakingly gentle thumb over the skin beneath your eye. 

“It must be bad if it’s already bruising,” he says. 

Remus stands. “Then we should put ice on it.” 

You pout as he disappears into the kitchen, but Sirius recaptures your attention by turning your face toward his. 

“I need you to think.” He fixes his stare on yours gravely. His eyes are the color of the moon reflecting off water. You try to tell him so, but his frown doesn’t abate. “Listen,” he says, “what happened to hurt your eye? You have to remember.” 

You purse your lips, shaking your head at him. “I feel like I’d know if something happened,” you say self-assuredly. “It’s probably just makeup. Can you get me a wipe?” 

“Angel.” James’ eyebrows have hooked upwards in the middle. He’s looking uncharacteristically serious, too. Your boyfriends are really not being a ton of fun tonight, you think. “It’s all red and purple. You can’t tell me that doesn’t hurt, babydoll.” 

You shrug. That may be so. But if it doesn’t hurt, who really cares? 

Sirius gets up just as Remus comes back with what looks like a balled-up dish towel. He passes it to you with a tender look on his face. 

“Put this on your eye, honey,” he says. Then, “Sirius, love, where are you going?” 

“To call Evans.” 

You touch the cloth to your eye, but it’s freezing cold, and you opt to let it rest in your lap instead.

“She won’t even be home yet,” Remus argues. “And what do you think you’ll accomplish if you do get ahold of her? She can’t tell us anything now that she won’t still know in the morning.” 

“What if somebody did this to her? If Evans saw, I want to know about it tonight.” 

“Don’t you think,” James says, “that if someone hit her, the girls would’ve come in and told us?” You lean against his side, and he wraps an arm around you automatically, rubbing your shoulder. He smells like strawberries and laundry detergent and something ineffably homey. “They wouldn’t have just dropped her off out front.” 

“What if no one saw?” 

“Then what do you think calling will do, love?” 

“I just…I feel like I have to do something. Don’t you?” 

You lean your head on James’ shoulder and snuggle into the familiar sounds of your boyfriends’ voices, overlapping and intermingling. You don’t realize they’ve gone quiet until Remus’ hand wraps around yours, and you open your eyes. 

“You’ve got to actually hold this on your eye,” he chides lovingly, taking the dish towel from you and pressing it to your face. 

The edge of something hard beneath the cloth digs into a tender spot beneath your eye, and you flinch. “Ow.” 

Remus’ forehead creases sympathetically. “Sorry.” 

But the pain brings another memory out of the fog. You pick your head up as you feel your good eye widen in realization, meeting Sirius’. 

He flicks up an eyebrow. “What’re you smiling about?” 

“I remember what happened,” you admit, a touch of embarrassment to your tone. And if you hadn’t had everyone’s attention before, you do now. 

“What was it?” James rubs your shoulder reassuringly. “You can tell us.” 

“It’s…when we were at the dog park, I got distracted.” 

Remus’ eyes narrow. “Go on.” 

You rub your lips together self-consciously. “I may have walked into a sign. About poop bags.” 

James leans away from you to see you better. “Like, a metal sign?” 

You nod, and he winces. 

“Ouch, lovie.” 

“Fucking hell.” Sirius covers his face with both hands, loosing a big breath through the cracks in his palms. Remus reaches back to pats his leg consolingly. “I was ready to go after whoever did that with a tire iron.” 

You shrink into the couch cushions. “Sorry.” 

“You could still take a tire iron to the sign, I suppose,�� James says. 

Sirius ignores him, crouching in front of you and taking your face in both hands. Remus lets the cloth drop rather than maneuver around him. “Don’t ever scare me like that again, understand?” 

“Yeah,” James agrees, “if you injure yourself in the future, ask for a pen and make a note on your arm or something. Save us the worry.” 

You lean forward, pressing a lingering, heartfelt kiss to Sirius’ cheek. 

“Thanks for worrying,” you say, and where your lips touched him the skin glows pink. 

“You’re taking years of my life, you know,” he says quietly. 

Remus chuckles. “Don’t worry. It looks good on you.” 

[mstase]

— ; ASTROLOGY OBSERVATIONS

mercury-venus people usually possess nicely shaped, plump, and rosy lips. their voices are soothing and pleasant to listen to, and they have a charming and articulate way of expressing themselves. 🤌🗣️

people with moon-neptune aspects feel emotions more intensely and get easily hurt by the slightest things. their emotions are like sponges, soaking up feelings from around them because their emotional boundaries are not as clear. it’s crucial for them to develop healthy ways to handle emotions and set boundaries to navigate their feelings.

i have never met someone with mars-pluto who isn’t deeply committed to their pursuits. these people exhibit a fervent and determined approach to their hobbies, goals, and preferences. very intense when passionate about something. 👺

people with venus in 4th house are so sentimental, which they express by taking photos and collecting things that hold significance to them. these individuals find joy in revisiting cherished memories, often feeling a strong sense of nostalgia and fondness when reminiscing about the past.

aries risings are so easy to spot, imo. their goal-oriented and driven personalities are so noticeable. they always effortlessly carry themselves with a sense of confidence, even if they aren’t feeling that way. also, they have the body goals and can seem to be everyone’s type. 👠

i feel like people with venus in 10th house are more inclined to keep their romantic relationships private and not show off their partners in a flamboyant or public manner. there could be a preference for a more reserved and discreet expression of affection, aligning with the conservative traits associated with capricorn.

also, they value their reputation highly, and as a result, they may be sensitive to criticism. the fear of negative judgment or criticism can affect them emotionally, leading them to be cautious and selective in how much they disclose about their personal life in public settings.

jupiter in 11th house natives are so lucky when it comes to friends. they have a natural ability to gain favor and support from others, especially within their social circles. their optimistic and generous nature can attract friends who are willing to help them in their personal and intellectual growth

natives with saturn-ascendant may naturally have a serious or contemplative facial expression, which can lead others to assume they are upset or mad even when they may not be. 🤷🏻‍♀️

pluto in 7th house people have *major* trust issues, often stemming from deep-seated experiences of being used or witnessing toxic relationships, particularly within their family or home environment. this placement can make them psychologically inclined to analyze and understand someone on a profound level before forming close connections.

mars in taurus individuals tend to exhibit a slower pace in their movements, including walking. these individuals may find comfort in taking their time, preferring a measured and persistent stride over hurried or impulsive actions.

this is really short but i hope you enjoyed reading it <3 @mstase

[naffeclipse]

Charm Brought It Back Pt. 4

Reader x Witches!Sun, Moon, & Eclipse

Commission Info

Once more, I return with @jackofallrabbits and I's Hocus Pocus AU, and I'm so excited to introduce @deliasmilkshake's cover art as well! Thank you so much to Delia for their beautiful work! <3 Now we return to the boys hunting down their darling bride while the reader discovers more of what unfolded in the past.

Content Warning: Suggestive themes, heavy kissing, heavy touching, injury, blood, violence, (temporary) animal death, and (temporary) character death.

———

In the far distance, a thick column of gray smoke chimneys up into the night sky, blotting out the light of stars. You look back again. The road has curved and how bends around homes and the beginning of small-town business. Windows are decorated with stickers of pumpkins and cauldrons with glowing green soups, and scarecrows line the corners. The pavement becomes a sidewalk underneath your feet. In an awkward gait, balancing upon the stint of his one leg and his only good foot, Michael stays close beside you.

A tear drips from your chin onto the bloody, dirty fur of the rabbit in your arms. Vanessa’s body is warm to the touch. You clutch her to your chest.

“It’s okay,” Michael murmurs. He lifts a putrid, rotten hand as if to pat your shoulder, but stops and lowers it again. “She’s not dead.”

“Michael,” you half sob, half snap. “She’s not breathing.”

“She will breathe again.” He holds your gaze. Twin pinpricks of white flame burn in his black, sunken eyes. “It’s part of the curse. She can’t die.”

You stare at him, disbelief squeezing your throat. You gently slot your fingers through the soft white coat of the woman who no longer has her own form. The brothers did this. The witches’ curse clench Michael tightly in a dark fist of unholy power. His body has dissolved into a walking corpse. 

Will the same happen to Vanessa? Will she now return as a rotting rabbit corpse? Your gut twists at such a thought.

Why can’t the witches take it back? Why can’t they stop and make it right? Is this the reason they were hanged by Michael’s ancestor—because they casted harm upon everyone?

You can’t bear to think of this anymore. The rabbit is small in your arms and you want to clean away the blood drying on her pale fur. 

A few cars honks at another. The night is well past the witching hour. The faint pounding echo of music from a party pricks your ears. Hunching over Vanessa, you wonder if she’s ever been outside of the brothers’ home for all the years she was cursed. 

Her long ears fall flat against her skull. You gently pet her and whisper an apology. It’s your fault.

You rest your hand over her and weep again, almost stumbling down the sidewalk before Michael pulls you closer to a brick wall of a building. A soft movement pushes back against your fingers. You stop and look down at the rabbit.

Her little torso expands in the slightest, then deflates. Then again. Her body moves with life.

“Vanessa?” You touch her in the slightest. Have you gone mad or is she breathing?

“Augh.” You hear her voice slip out from the rabbit’s mouth. “How did you escape? Is Michael with you?”

In dumb silence, you watch Vanessa lift her head and blink her green eyes up at you.

“Where are the witches?” she asks, terribly serious.

The gears of your mind spin. You’ve read accounts of sickly and comatose people being buried alive through the 17th and 19th centuries. Premature burials. Sometimes, out of fear of the person not truly being passed, bells would be fastened to their fingers with a string so if there were any movement. The ringing struggle would alert any grave attendant or family members nearby that the deceased was, in fact, alive. A few days would be spared to ensure death is final before they would be buried.

But you held her motionless body in your hands. Her body is caked in blood.

“You were dead,” you say, breathless with horror.

“Now I’m not.” Her pink nose twitches. “We don’t have a lot of time.”

“Are you alright?” Michael’s brow creases in the slightest while looking over her. “That couldn’t have been… pleasant.”

“Dying never is.” She pauses. Her ears prick before falling back against her skull. She presses a paw to your collarbone and pushes herself up in your arms to be face to face with you. A whisker brushes your chin. “Are you crying?”

“No, well, yes, but I was so scared you were gone!” You wipe a hand across your cheek, smearing salty tracks of tears as you try to stop another sniffle. “How did you survive?”

“I didn’t. I died, and the curse brought me back.” Her ears give an annoyed twitch. “Aren’t you listening?”

“I’m sorry.” You bite your bottom lip. You pet her head once. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

She falls silent. The weight of her green eyes falls over you, and for several breaths, she simply stares before the quiet of the street is broken by her small voice.

“When the brothers cursed me, the villagers knew they had done something to cause my disappearance but no one mourned me. I only had Afton…”

Michael shuffles a little closer. You ignore the stench of rotting flesh and hold Vanessa’s gaze. A weariness lays upon her head, a kind of exhaustion that a hundred years of sleep couldn’t cure. More than that, she seems sad and alone. 

You hold her tighter.

“I tried to get his attention.” Her eyes slide to Michael for a heartbeat then away again. “He said he could do nothing for me but give me a clean, painless death. I allowed him. He snapped my neck in his hands.”

You gasp sharply. How could he do that so quickly, without hesitation? A sickness swirls in your stomach.

“That’s horrible,” you utter. “He didn’t try to help you break the curse?”

Her paw falls down from your collarbone and she sinks deeper into your arms. She avoids your gaze.

“When I came back to life, I begged for his help. He told me to never return to him again—there is no hope for me and he would not tolerate the presence of dark magic. I would leave or else he would sic his hound on me.” She stops a moment, the silence thick. “He thought his hound’s teeth would kill me for certain. It did not.”

The unmistakable air of shame clings to her small body. Michael’s fists clench as his eyes widen. You catch the grind of his molars through the threads of flesh stretched over his cheeks and share the same fury over such an injustice. 

She was his right hand.

“Vanessa…” You touch her little head. “I’m so sorry.”

“He should not have abandoned you,” Michael seethes through his teeth. “Why would he toss you aside so heartlessly?”

Vanessa doesn’t look at Michael, the descendant of the man who betrayed her in her hour of need.

“Afton was right.” Her eyes turn upon you like shards of emerald, glinting in shattered pieces. “The curse can’t be undone.”

“No,” you whisper. “There must be a way.”

Your thoughts spill slowly like molasses. The brothers knew she would come back to life—even if throwing her off the roof is cruel and horrifying. Did they care? Did they think they could have you then if they removed every last obstacle between you?

Are they capable of being better?

Michael turns towards the street, his brow furrowed and his teeth set in a furious grimace. His darkly rotten flesh catches on a yellow streetlight, slashing over the angler cavity where his nose once was. The silence twists into you as you gaze at both of your companions.

They need your help. But how do you undo curses in a night when you just discovered witches and their magic?

“We have to keep moving.” Michael straightens like a soldier, his words faraway while his fists continue to hang at his sides. “Come on. Follow me.”

Further along the pavement, you spy a couple of people walking. You stiffen in place, glancing at Michael in alarm but he nods back at the people. He continues walking forward, undaunted. You follow him closely, peering back at the strangers to find them dressed as aliens and cowboys and devils. 

Costumes.

“We can blend in for a while, hide out,” Michael says.

“But…” You look down at yourself, your sweat almost falling off of you due to the tears and holes littering it, and the rabbit in your arms looks no better than a murder victim. Not to mention that Michael is the living dead.

“The witches only have one broomstick left and they’ll have to pick us out like needles in a haystack.” He tugs on your elbow and you follow. Vanessa nestles against your chest, strangely silent after coming back to life. Is that usual for when she resurrects? Is she in pain or does she need to rest after such an ordeal?

Deeper in town, the streets become bustling with people wearing pirate eye patches and waving hooks around, and bad, neon printed 80s costumes. They flow towards a high school, the gym doors held open where you find flashing orange and white lights with a sharp backdrop of music pounding through the air. The threat of a headache scrapes against your temples.

“We just need to hide until dawn. Then they will die.” Michael glances back at you while he drags you further inside, past the doors and into the crowded, stuffy floor of the gymnasium. 

Your shoulders sink. Scratching softly at Vanessa’s back, gently scraping away flakes of drying blood, your mind becomes lost in the thunderous overlap of voices and music. Michael keeps weaving through the crowd in a relentless march.

Death sounds too cruel of a fate for anyone. You gently pet Vanessa while she scans the room with a slight alarm. Has she ever seen a modern celebration of Halloween? She may know it better as All Hallows’ Eve. The brothers will be no better in facing such a commotion of shifted cultures and costumes and technology. 

The brothers were hanged, and Vanessa remained trapped in a rabbit form.

If the brothers die, Michael and Vanessa will remain trapped in their curses. Your heart is heavy and your feet are slow to keep up with Michael. There must be another way. 

The ceremony.

You bump into a person dressed as a firefighter and Michael glances back impatient before he drives you deeper into the gym. He finds a dark space behind the punch bowl table and tucks you both into its shadow. The flare of bright, orange lights dances across your feet before darting away. 

A twist in your chest tightens around your lungs and you become breathless. You don’t know what to do. The ceremony could mean giving up your very life to spare the witches of their untimely demise at the bells tied around their wrists. Maybe you can convince them still to give up the dark hold they have over your friends.

You could marry them. You blush softly at the thought, but your insides are knotted and caught in tangled. Can all three of them share you? Would they love you or use you simply to save themselves? Will they hurt your friends again?

Vanessa’s death and revival leaves you raw and thin-skinned, and the night spins you endlessly on uneven footsteps. You hardly notice the spill of fog beginning to sweep over the dance floor. The people in colorful costumes and makeup hoot and holler as the music changes to a slow, haunting speed.

“No.” Michael curses right beside you. “How did they get here so fast?”

Shooting a look at him then following his glance towards the entrance, your entire being grows hot and cold in a snap.

The brothers stand in the entranceway. Their cloaks and capes fall over them, hiding their unusual attire for the era but little masks the strangeness of their disk-like faces and the array of sun rays and a glittering dark hood upon another. They survey the room with a bewilderment that is both fascinating and disgusted. Eclipse stands between Sun and Moon, his head high while his eyes scan the many people, hunting for you.

The breath in your throat hitches. You could tell them that it’s alright, it’s only a festive celebration. It’s become a holiday to dress up and eat sweets and sugars, and have spooky fun and get scared sometimes. Would they understand that? Would it be less frightening and otherworldly to them if you did?

“Michael,” Vanessa hisses. Her little paws press sharply against your arms as if she means to bound away.

“Stay low,” he instructs firmly. “Stay close beside me.”

“Wait, Michael, please,” you utter but he’s already grasping your arm and striding onwards. The music swallows your voice. The pressure of tears builds until you blink and register how wet your eyelashes have become.

There shouldn’t be any more death tonight.

As you’re pulled along like a lost soul, you look back to the entrance way. For the briefest moment, Eclipse skims over the party. You suck in a sharp breath. 

He snaps his head, as if called, and locks eyes with you. You startle but can’t look away. The molten hues of his gaze holds you in place like chains. His smile expands to show off a mouthful of sharp teeth as he mouths two words.

Found you.

You duck your head, your heart in your throat, and scurry after Michael. Vanessa wriggles out of your grasp. Jumping to the floor, she hops between people’s feet and stays perfectly close to Michael despite the fog filling up the space and causing you to cough. It tastes fake and syrupy. Did they curse a fog machine? Or is this something more supernatural? 

The music begins to murmur and strike strange chords. You twist your head, briefly searching the floor in your confusion for the cause of the thick, velvet smoke. Michael almost knocks into a couple dressed as a bottle of honey and a bee. Vanessa says something, lost to the crowd. The song begins to rise and envelop the room in a haunting echo. Your head begins to swim.

Someone takes your hand. Warm digits wrap claws around the bones of your knuckles and hold tightly. You gasp. In one motion, the dancer slips you out of Michael’s grasp and spins you back into the crowd. 

For a heartbeat, Michael whirls around, his eyes, pinpricks of ghostly white, flash to you. Vanessa cries your name. Smoke and party goers cut you off from your friends as you’re effortlessly lifted over the floor.

Lost in a dizzy haze of pale wisps and swinging footsteps, you twist in the hands of your abductor and find an all too familiar crown of yellow sun rays and a beaming, wicked smirk.

“Sun?” You try to wriggle out of his hold but he’s locked onto your hips.

“Hello again, sunshine.” Sun spins you effortlessly, his cape pillowing behind him and summoning more thick fog to cloak you between dancers, stuck fast in the song as if they were sinking in mud, unable to notice the witch slipping his palms higher to hold off your waist. He pulls you flush against his chest. “I adore meeting you like this, but perhaps we might spare the rest of the night for such events? Perhaps after the ceremony.”

Your heart flutters within you like a bird. The heat of his touch sends goosebumps prickling down your flesh as you rest your hands on his shoulders. You look up into his pale eyes with desperation dripping from your every edge.

“Wait, Sun, I can’t leave Michael and Vanessa.” You try to twist back to search for your lost companions but the fog and party lights cutting over the thickness blind you equally.

He bares his pale bone teeth. Effortlessly, he twirls you over the dance floor as your poor feet attempt to keep up. The witch balances the delicate art of keeping you just on the verge of collapse without leaving you embarrassed and fallen. His arm wraps around your waist and lifts your hands above your hand to spin you like a top before reclaiming you once more.

“Of course, you can! Let’s take you far away from all these dreary people,” Sun whispers into your ear. His lips brush the shell of it. Your breath catches. “I will keep you warm. I will keep you safe. I will dance with you forevermore.”

Your lips are locked, caught between pleas to spare your friends of their curses and a temptation far greater. The promise of never being alone. The hope of kindness throughout your days and love throughout your nights. You never realized how cold you were before the brothers traced your body with their hands—how warm another person is when they hold you with care.

“Please,” you whisper. You cling to his shoulders. “I can’t leave them.”

“You will have your husbands,” Sun lifts his head, haughty but steadfast, “You will have me.”

He lowers himself to you and you are caught under his mouth as it travels slowly down your cheekbone. A heat surges through your core. He dots your nose with a peck before his eyes, sultry and softly glimmering, lower to your lips.

“There’s no need to fear now that I have you.”

Carefully, you hold still, waiting for the snap of teeth or the tenderness of his lips Sun slowly, agonizingly closes the gap between himself to you, and his mouth brushes your own—

Hands hook your hips from behind and lift you into the air, twirling you out of Sun’s stunned grasp and then furious gaze. You squeak in alarm. The world spins with music and lights and smoke.

“Brother,” Sun snarls in the way one lion might at another for stealing its meal.

“Share, brother,” Moon speaks as calm as a lake-surface at midnight. “You’ve squandered enough time with your foolish antics.”

Your hands immediately fly to the arms supporting you above the crowd. For one brief moment, you see above the thick concoction of smoke and party-goers and find Michael on the edge of the dance floor, frantically scanning the gymnasium.

You try to lift your hand to signal for him, but Moon sets you back to your feet before you have a chance to regain his attention.

“Come with me, my little mouse.” Moon shadows your back. “It will soon only be us. Alone.”

His hand slips over your waistline. Driven by pure instinct, your fingers curl around his claws while the sleek, sharp tips slide through a hole in your sweater.

“Moon?” You turn your head back, confirming the dancer holding you hostage now. He glides you forward through the crowd. His scarlet eyes are sharp with focus, but they soften the moment they meet your gaze. Weaving through costumed individuals, Moon takes you into a dark alcove along a wall, where the smoke swirls in lazily wisps and the other dancers remain at bay.

“I have wanted for you far longer than tonight.” He gently turns you back to face him and he clasps your hands between his. His black cloak falls against his back like a shield. An unmistakable understanding washes over you: you are safe. Even if you are separated from your friends.

“Moon, I…” Your tongue fails to locate the words stuck behind your molars.

He gently opens your arms and takes you against him. With one hand wrapping around your waist, his other slips up the nape of your neck. He gently cards through the hair at the bottom of your skull in a lulling, gentle motion.

Your eyelids flutter. In your weakness, you rest your head on his shoulder. Moon hums a low, harmonic sound in his chest—a lullaby for a lover. It rumbles sweetly against your heart.

He steps softly, swaying in a sort of moonlight waltz that would be better suited for a homey kitchen than a busy dance party. Regardless, Moon pays no mind to any other bodies in the room.

“Come with us,” he whispers against your hair. “Leave the witch hunter and rabbit.”

Your fingers curl against the soft fabric of his white, billowy shirt. The urge grows stronger still. It could be a fairytale. A Grimm storybook of a lonely historian and three witches.

But you screw your eyes close, and breathe.

“No.” Your footsteps follow his lead so much better, slowly twirling together. “Moon, Michael and Vanessa have suffered enough.”

Moon’s teeth flash like fangs in the dark. 

“You don’t know what they have done, what they will do,” he growls so dark and low.

A shiver overtakes you, but you gently lift your head. Moon clutches the back of your neck in the manner of a man fearful of losing something and never getting it back, despite your closeness to his body.

“I don’t know what you and your brothers have done,” you speak softly, truthfully. “I don’t know what you will do.”

A gentleness overtakes Moon. His hand slips up your cheek to cup your face.

“We would never harm you,” he whispers. “I will never hurt you.”

You lift your hand to cup his own. The coolness of his palm cradles you sweetly, a longing tipping his claw as he carefully keeps them from your flesh.

“Brother.” A new voice sounds gently beside you. “Allow me.”

Beside you both stands Eclipse. He holds out a hand. Moon gently nods, but scarlet gaze eyes linger on you with longing as he slowly takes your hand and sets it in Eclipse’s. Moon slips into the supernatural smoke and the movement of bodies enchanted by music. A backwards glance, then he’s gone.

You face your new dance partner. His gaze is golden and gleaming in the dark alcove you’re pressed against. He gently holds your hand up in a proper position of a dance—at least you think so. You’ve never danced with someone before. He touches your waist and on instinct, you place your palm on his shoulder. His black cape swishes gently around him. His crown of red rays circle the air like a king above his queen, and you find yourself blushing under such a thought.

“There were festivals in the village when we were alive,” he says in a low, sweet voice, “We could never attend. Sun longed to dance with others to proper music and Moon could have been compelled out of the shadows for just a night, but the people wouldn’t have us.”

You listen carefully as he swings you gently across the small space. Smoke spills at your feet but Eclipse sweeps it away with the sway of his cape, and endlessly, you revolve together.

“No one would have us. No one would give us a moment to speak for fear of curses.” Eclipse’s eyes lower, and a grim smile touches his lips. “They weren’t entirely unfounded. Afton was right to fear us, but he turned the village against my brothers and I. He accused us of stealing their children.”

A sharp, hidden anger, like a blade sheathed, flashes behind Eclipse’s eyes. Your heart grows heavy while you try to not step on his feet, but he always seems to move his black shoes out of the way before you can.

“Did anyone know?” you ask softly.

There is so much lost to history. Tablets and clay figures and marble sculptures cracked and buried. Letters. The truth.

As true witches, they were framed, used as a scapegoat. 

Eclipse softly presses his palm to the small of your back. You step closer. He looks down at you, his golden eyes wide and tittering between dreams and despair.

“No.” He gently steps back to lift your arm above your head and allows you to twirl slowly. An enchanting moment of twisting. Then, you return to him, clasping his hand tightly. 

“I’m sorry.” Your fingers curl over the soft fabric of his cape. “So many have been killed because of false accusations or ulterior motives… but I don’t have to tell you that.”

He chuckles sardonically. “No.”

He looks you gently over. He waltzes and you follow him in a small curve of soft steps.

“I was bone scrying one night.” Eclipse sweeps back a strand of your hair from your face, his touch velvet and light. “The villagers’ hatred was growing and I was afraid for my brothers. I needed… hope.”

You close your eyes briefly as he turns his hand, and using the back of his finger, strokes your cheek.

“Then I saw you.”

Your eyes fly open. Brow crinkling, you think of ancient fortune tellers and seers, those who claimed to see what was to come and to promise those who sought their advice that all would be well.

But that is history. This is magic.

Eclipse holds your gaze unflinching.

“You couldn’t have,” you whisper, despite yourself. “I am no one.”

His hands tighten upon you. He stops dancing. Your heart flits within you until he clutches you close in an embrace that melts your bones and loosens your muscles. 

“You are everything to us. You are our bride. You are the one who lit the starry candle to save my brothers and I. You are the one whom I love so dearly, and have waited centuries for.”

He bows and presses his forehead to yours. You breathe in a soft gentle musk and spice, and it’s as if you were home. Not your empty, cold house, but home.

“I would wait a hundred more to behold you. I would crawl out of my grave to find you. Little comet, you have been the one light in my dark death, and I will vow myself to you as your husband for as long as you will have me.”

A thickness cakes your throat. Emotion, heavy and dripping, spills into your chest. You clutch his hands. 

“Will you say ‘I do’ my bride?” 

Everything within you sings to answer him. Your silence paints your lips with faltering and fear. The sting of sorrow in the corner of your eyes begins to wet them. 

His claws curl tighter around you. His expression burns low and hot, desperate and fierce.

“Are you not lonely?” he asks in a husky tone. “Do you not understand all that my brothers and I can give you? You will know only love and certainty. You will be warm and safe. You will have all our powers at your fingertips.”

“Eclipse.” You lift your head.  A bubbling sorrow overtakes you, and your cheek drips with a tear. “I can’t. Not until Michael and Vanessa are free of their curses.”

The damning of his silence is lethal. Eclipse doesn’t move as smoke wisps by and your heart skips a beat in your rib cage. His eyes are wide and unreadable. They bore into you. You almost squirm but hold fast against his crushing attention.

“Can’t you take away their suffering? Can’t you undo the damage done?” you ask softly, your voice threatening to break. “Please. I will perform the ceremony with you and your brothers before sunrise. All I ask is this.”

A battle unfolds within the witch. His claws twitch and his lips long to curl into a snarl, but he breathes softly instead.

He moves once and presses one soft kiss to your mouth. You close your eyes.

“Very well.” He straightens. He mumbles something low under his breath, overlapping and thick with magic, and you still as he gathers you closer.

You almost can’t comprehend that you’ve agreed to marry the witches.

In the midst of a swell of energy so hot and dark, you wonder if a summer night could be conjured on an October early morning hour, Eclipse lowers his lips to your ear and whispers, “I put a spell on you.”

Your heart thunders. Your fingers twist into the white flowy fabric of his shirt, and the witch takes you into his arms. The fog swirls, beginning to rise and circle you both as if you stand in the heart of a cyclone. Faster and faster still, until you’re forced to close your eyes and hide your head against Eclipse’s chest.

His fingers stroke your spine softly. The air changes, the music ceases, and you breathe in crisp, forest air. You don’t dare open your eyes.

Eclipse hums.

“And now you’re mine.”

[jinwoosbabyboo]

“Will You Marry Me?"

How I imagine LADS Men would propose. This is part 2 of 2. I tried to do the sweet elegant writing, but that ain't me so here you go....

Xavier

Our lover boy Xavier is a literal prince. I feel as though he'd be very traditional with his proposal. The only unfortunate part is he can't ask for your fathers/family blessing because you know .... Anyway :)

He would definitely court you for a week even if you’ve already been together for over a year. The day of his proposal he would take you to a spot only he knows that has zero light pollution. Of course it’s deep in the forest.

MC: If I didn’t know any better I’d say you’re trying to kill me and hide my body Xavier: You have such creative thoughts MC: Seriously where are we going? Xavier: Somewhere special MC: So mysterious even after a year of dating

He’d bring you to a clearing that seemed like it was being lit up by a spotlight. It’s not though he chose to propose on a night with a full moon and clear skies so you could see how beautiful the stars are without all the city lights.

MC: It’s otherworldly Xavier: This was my favorite place to come when I needed clarity MC: Why didn’t you show me sooner? Xavier: I wanted to save it for a special day MC: oh what are you going to propose or something?

You’d be laughing and boom he pulls a ring out of his pocket shutting you right up.

MC: Oh shit! You’re really proposing Xavier: Yes im really proposing

His speech is so sweet it could give you cavities not only would he emphasize how much he loves you he’d let you know just how much he is solely yours. Even if you were to one day forget him and how much he loves you he would still always be yours and would do anything to keep you safe & most of all happy.

Xavier: My lady will you marry me? MC: I want nothing more

He might’ve been sweet and soft spoken during his proposal but that shy boy facade went out the window when you two got back home.

Sylus

It’s canon that Sylus gets nervous when he wants to ask you out. So just imagine how nervous he is getting ready to propose! He already constantly gifts you pretty gems and the gifts just keep increasing over the course of 3 months.

He second guesses himself thinking you may say no so he keeps putting it off but continues to shower you in gifts, quality time, full body massages, shopping sprees, dinner dates, lunch dates, you name it he’s doing it, you want it he got it. He’d be spoiling you so much you’d have to sit him down and ask him what’s going on. He would dismiss your concerns of course.

MC: Are you guys leaving for a while? Kieran: Why do you ask? MC: Sylus has been acting weird I feel like he’s about to disappear again Luke: That was one time and boss only did that because you asked him to leave you alone MC: I know but I’m worried now Luke: Relax miss hunter you’re overthinking

The twins would indeed gaslight you while Sylus worked up the nerve to propose. When he finally has the nerve to do it he goes all out. I’m talking he'd rent out the most exquisite restaurant money can buy. A whole staff at your beck and call. He'd wine and dine you with delicious food and expensive wine. By the time dessert comes you'd want answers.

MC: You're leaving me aren't you Sylus: Jumping to conclusions are we? MC: I'm serious Sylus you haven't been yourself lately you're worrying me Sylus: I guess this is the part where I explain myself

With two snaps of his fingers the twins would rush out; Kieran placing a giant box bouquet of red roses in your arms and Luke placing a crown on your head before rushing out leaving the two of you alone.

MC: What's this? and what am I a Princess? Sylus: You are and I'd love to change your title to Queen MC: Stop are you....

I don't picture Sylus giving a long winded speech. I feel like he would be the type to write it down so you could cherish his words forever.

Sylus: Will you marry me Miss Hunter? You can say no if- MC: Of course I'll marry you

Yet again I'm tackling this man as soon as he slips that ring on. Need to be in his arms immediately. Expeditiously.

Zayne & Rafayel here…