#willow citrus

[theaceofbasil]

TTC VALENTINES CARDS!!

(Feel free to use, but reblog if you do!!)

beri one too

[tanuki-kimono]

Romantic late spring/early summer outfit, featuring a beautiful ombre purple kimono with yanagi (willow) over a woven ground with kawaguruma (ox cart wheel immersed in water), ryuusui (stream), kumo (cloud), and tachibana (stylized citrus).

OP paired it with a silken woven obi with tsubame (swallow) in willow tree.

[edge-oftheworld]

if I designed a village for 5sos to live in

happy 30th ashton I drew you a little piece of paradise in the blue mountains

[here-comes-the-bard]

i feel the senior trip vine ("ok senior trip where do you guys wanna go" "the bahamas!" "idk abt that-" "let's go to hell! :)" ".........no <3") is chucklefuckscore but in a silly goofy incorrect quotes way

[the-case-book-of-fanfiction]

Crawl Home To Her

Ship: Astarion x fem!Tav/reader

Summary: As awful the feeling of blood on the skin is, sometimes it can be helpful, you have to admit. At least, when it comes to Astarion, blood is always helpful. You'll have to take his word for it—and that's oh so easy bathing with him.

Word Count: 5,461 words

Warnings: sexual content (18+) blood, gore, nudity, sexual & non-sexual touching, bathing each other, soft Astarion, established relationship, brief mention of past sexual encounter, dealing with past trauma, teasing from Karlach, mention of dismemberment, fluff & smut mix

18+ Warnings: brief fingering (f receiving), tiny bit of a hair kink, sensual touching, semi-public sex/nudity

Note: Part 2 of Burns Like Rum is coming soon! But here's a little something to tithe you over until the sequel (Sweet Like Rum) is ready!

☟ Continue below the fold ☟

Shafts of pale sunlight fell on your face as you walked through the forest, your arms swinging at your sides, small critters running amok in the bushes around you. Birdsong filled your ears, pleasantly light and summery, reminding you distantly of a childhood memory you couldn't quite reach. The weather was warm enough that you were thinking you might have to change into something lighter. The few weapons you had on you were already starting to make you break out into a sweat.

For a day that had started with murder, the weather was surprisingly nice.

You hummed as you walked—the song pulled from your childhood, the words long forgotten but pieces of the melody clunking around in your head. You strung them together the best you could, tapping out a rhythm against your leg.

You were on your way to the waterfall you'd spotted several days ago while hunting. It was small and nothing too violent. The pool it fell into wasn't deep enough to drown you, nor was the flow of water all that fast. You trusted it—and the rock ledge behind it—would suit your purposes quite nicely.

Coming upon the pool was like stepping into one of the fairytales you had heard in your youth, sitting upon your father's knee in a tavern, listening to a traveller tell a story you weren't sure was entirely true.

It was guarded by willow trees with branches that swayed in a breeze you hadn't felt until you came upon them. Pushing the curtain of branches away revealed an almost perfectly circular clearing, the ground covered in vibrant green moss that squished delightfully beneath your feet and sprung back up when you stepped off of it. Patches of flowers sprouted all around, pink and yellow and purple blooms that grew up to the sun. The pool was as blue as the sky above, clear and shallow, surrounded by a few feet of soft white sand. The water shimmered in the sunlight, rippling over the pebbles that covered its floor. From the pool, the water flowed into a thin river that could hardly be called a river and out into the woods.

You sat by the pool's edge and pulled off your boots. They were just as bloody as the rest of you, the sticky and quickly drying substance staining the black leather. You splashed water over them and scrubbed with a cloth you had designated for this purpose that had once been grey.

Only after your boots were clean did you stand back up and step into the soft sand. You wiggled your toes, smiling at the feeling. You breathed in the crisp, sweet air. It smelled faintly of flowers and citrus, a scent that was familiar, though you couldn't place it.

You stripped slowly, hissing and wincing as you tugged at the places where blood had stuck the fabric to your skin. It acted like glue when dry, staining your skin and leaving a mottled pattern across your flesh. The fabric of your shirt had grown stiff with semi-dried blood.

One by one, you pulled off belts and straps holding weapons, the gloves you protected your hands with, your shirt, your trousers—until you were standing naked at the pool's edge. You gave yourself a cursory inspection, searching for any wounds you had acquired in the fighting this morning that you hadn't noticed; it wouldn't be the first time you'd walked away from a fight and realized you were injured only hours later. But, this time, there was nothing.

Usually it was Astarion who noticed you were injured, catching your smell in the air when it shouldn't have been. But you were drenched in so much blood already that you imagined it would have been very hard to pick out your distinct scent.

You waded into the pool, taking your clothes with you, and sat at it's deepest point. Standing, it reached your knees; sitting, it almost came to your shoulders. You scrubbed the blood from your clothes, using the soap you had brought with you.

You watched the blood and soap swirl together in the water and flow toward the river, a thin stream of red and bubbles slipping away from the crimson cloud surrounding you. You almost felt bad to ruin the clarity of the water, but the others—back at camp—were taking far too long to wash the blood from themselves with your limited store of water. This was better, in the long run.

Astarion would have a field day with this if this wasn't goblin blood, you thought to yourself, staring at the blood drifting just below the surface. He would drink it, from time to time, but never happily.

You scrubbed at your clothes until your fingers were stiff and sore and the blood was no longer coming out of the fabric. You inspected them and deemed them clean enough to put back on the moss, spread out so they would dry faster.

To clean yourself, you headed toward the waterfall. You climbed up onto the stone ledge behind it, reveling in the surprisingly gentle spray of water that reached you and the stillness of the water that it fell into, high enough to reach your knees.

You stepped under the water. It cascaded over you, dousing you in its coolness that reminded you of the first time Astarion had ever touched you—

—gentle hands, cascading down your sides—fingers lifting your chin so you would meet his gaze—a kiss to your forehead—a hand on the small of your back—his lips on your own, warmer than you had anticipated—his fingers in your hair, keeping your head off the ground—his hand slipping between your legs—his little giggle when you shuddered beneath him—the pleasured sigh from his lips as he slid inside of you—

Stepping out from underneath the water, you shook your head, banishing the memory. You had spoken recently about all of this. He'd told you, "I don't think I want you to think of me in terms of sex." He'd said, "I don't want to be just a body for you, darling." And though he'd teased you that you were more than welcome to "sustain yourself" (his words) with your memories of him while he took time away from intimacy, some part of you still felt like you violating his wishes any time it was his body that you thought of, rather than of, well, just him.

You wiped the water from your eyes and knew your tears had mixed in with it; Astarion had been very vulnerable with you, so you knew his reasons for it all. You had two responses: either unbearable sorrow that he had been forced to endure it all (which the current cause of the crushing weight in your chest), or blinding rage that birthed the desire to see Cazador's head on a spear.

You carded your hands through your wet hair, trying to work out the tangles. Your fingers came away covered in watery blood.

"Mind if I join you?"

You jumped, eyes flying open, and looked up. Leaning against the stone wall was the vampire himself, a gentle smile on his face. Gods, how you loved that smile. In this light, you couldn't tell his eyes were red and his fangs were hidden. If you didn't pay attention to how pale he was, you could imagine he was just an elf again—the life he deserved.

Astarion still wore his clothes, which were slowly darkening as they soaked up the spray of water and splattered with as much blood as his handsome face, but his boots were placed neatly next to yours on the moss. He'd cleaned them already; how had you not heard him before?

While he waited for your answer, aware of your admiring gaze on him, he pulled his shirt off over his head, mussing the curls you loved so much. He stripped quickly, nearly falling over when his trouser leg caught on his foot, and left his clothes in a pile on the rock ledge. Perhaps you were imagining things, but his skin looked paler than it had this morning, when you'd been rudely awoken by a horde of goblins invading your camp.

You held your arms open to him. "I'd like that very much."

He stepped into your arms, wrapped his own around your waist, and buried his head in your neck, breathing in deeply. "My love," he whispered, his lips against your skin. He kissed your neck softly and pulled away, cupping your face in his hand, to look into your eyes. "Are you alright?"

You nodded. "I'm okay."

"No injuries this time?" Astarion's eyes slid down your naked body, examining, his gaze concerned when it had once been sensual. You felt yourself relax in his arms, at ease with his concern. It felt real, honest in a way you hadn't had a chance to be yet. It was natural, somehow, to be checking each other for injuries in the time you finally caught together, away from the others.

"Not this time," you said, leaning into him. More watery blood dripped from your hair and across his chest, leaving streaks that made it look like he'd just returned from a rather messy feeding.

He kissed the top of your wet head. "Good." He leaned away to smile at you. "I was worried you'd run off to take care of your injuries by yourself, if only to keep me from smelling the blood."

You shook your head. "If only we'd been attacked by something you could drink from, satisfy your hunger for a few days." He smiled weakly and you knew the thought had been on his mind, too. "What about you? Are you okay?"

He spread his arms and did a little twirl for you. You giggled at his antics, glancing over his skin, pleased he was comfortable enough to even be naked with you. "Yes, darling. Not a scratch on me."

The two of you looked at each other, your hair already damp and clinging to your head, and his curls slowly being matted down by the thick mist of the waterfall. His ears poked out, more noticeable than normal.

Astarion bent and picked up your bar of soap. "May I help you wash off all this grime?"

"Please," you said, your voice soft but as loving as you could make it, your eyes fixed firmly on his.

He lathered his hands with soap and scrubbed gently at your skin. His nails, kept trimmed and neat, were hardly more than a light sensation as he worked at the dried blood until it crumbled away from your skin and ran down your body in red rivulets. His touch was soft, caring where it had once been lustful and groping. You leaned into his touch, enjoying the sensation of his fingers digging into your tired muscles, and held him. You adjusted your hold on him as he moved across your body—an arm draped across his shoulders, a hand on his bicep, your fingers against his chest, your head on his shoulder.

You looked up at Astarion, blinking quickly to keep the water out of your eyes. His gaze remained fixated on your hips as he gently washed off the blood, but he smiled, aware of your stare.

"See something you like?" he asked, tone playful.

"Someone I love," you corrected. He looked up at you, a tender smile growing on his lips. "Someone I love dearly." You leaned close, cupped one side of his face, and kissed the other. "I love you, Astarion."

He kissed your cheek, too. "And I love you." His lips found yours. He kissed you with a sweetness that simultaneously broke your heart and mended it. You wrapped your arms around his waist. He hummed happily into your mouth and cradled the back of your neck.

The pair of you fell into a tight embrace. You felt the adrenaline drain from you and leave you limp in his arms, your hot skin going cold under the water. Despite how suddenly you must have slumped against him, Astarion held you with ease. He gave the crown of your head a quick kiss, then made an unpleasant sound of surprise from the back of his throat.

"Darling, do you mind if I wash your hair? There's an awful lot of goblin blood in it."

You forced yourself to stand up straight on your own, still holding his sides for support. "Oh, yes—that would be from Karlach throwing one she'd just chopped into over my head." Even as you said the words, you felt the blood splattering into your hair again and shuddered.

Astarion grimaced. "Let me help you with it, then." He lathered his hands and put them in your hair. As he fell into a rhythm, you closed your eyes and let him doing the work, your thoughts drifting...

At first, you weren't sure why you had even woken in the first place. The light coming in through a crack in the tent's opening was still the watery and grey color of pre-dawn, much earlier than you usually woke. You frowned and pushed back into Astarion, his arm squeezing you tighter, sleep once again tugging at your eyelids.

And then you heard a shout, vicious and loud. It was close to camp, maybe even in camp. The shout came again and you realized it was Lae'zel's war cry.

All at once, the sounds of a battle filled your ears. You jerked awake in an instant, clambering onto your knees and shaking Astarion awake next to you. Of course the one day Astarion decided to indulge in the very human activity of sleep was the day you and your friends were attacked.

"What's going on?" he mumbled as his eyes flickered open, his words slurred together.

"Come on, grab your knives," you said, pulling your lightest set of armor on over your clothes. You were suddenly very relieved Astarion had decided skin to skin contact was a bit too much for him last night. "I think we're under attack."

He woke just as quickly as you had. He swore, dragged a quick hand through his hair, and grabbed his knives. He waited until you had your own weapon in hand before he opened the curtain flap of his tent.

The camp was a sight to behold. Already it was trashed and overflowing with goblins. Some were already on the ground, their blood oozing everywhere in the dirt and grass. Gashes from Lae'zel's sword seeped blood and gristle, if she hadn't horribly disfigured the corpses and turned them into little more than lumps of flesh. Many of them bore scorch marks that ranged from minor burns to melting flesh. It smelled horrendous and nearly acidic; you bit back the bile in your throat.

A dismembered arm fell at your foot. You kicked it away on instinct, looking up to see Karlach ripping a second goblin limb from limb.

"Now that's just vile," Astarion said, still looking at the arm, a fang poking out over his curled lip.

"Complain about it later," you said, grabbing his chin and giving him a quick and customary 'good morning' kiss. "We've got to help the others."

"If you insist."

Astarion ran to Karlach's side; you headed for Shadowheart and Gale. Wyll was approaching, too, cutting a path through the goblins.

"Morning, you two!" you said cheerily. "How'd this happen?"

"We're not sure," Shadowheart said, kicking a goblin in the face as it ran at her with a scream. "Lae'zel said they came from the north, just over those hills."

"Odd. I wonder if we camped too close to them for their liking, and now they're trying to do something about it. Are goblins territorial creatures?"

Gale grunted, casting another fireball. "Enough chatting. Let's just kill these things and figure out where they came from and why later. Got it?"

"Fair enough," you decided. "Whoever kills the most chooses dinner for a week."

"I'll take you up on that," Wyll said from behind you. "I'm dreaming of a good meal for once."

Astarion's hands sliding out of your hair abruptly brought you back to reality, to his body pressed against yours and the waterfall at your back, shielding the two of you from the world.

"Where'd you go?" he asked, voice soft. You could feel his fingers toying with the ends of your hair, curling it on his fingers.

"Back to the fight," you admitted. "I just keep wondering how they snuck up on us."

"No matter now," he said. "We'll let Lae'zel criticize us all for not anticipating every possible disaster when we get back, but not yet. Not here."

He went back to massaging your scalp, despite the blood being long gone, and your sighed happily. He smiled and kissed your forehead, adding pressure. A content whimper slipped from your lips and you blushed instantly as his eyes lit up; he'd heard far more obscene from you, yet still the slightest sounds you made embarrassed you and delighted him.

"My, my, the noises you make for me, lover," he teased, giggling. He wrapped his hand in your hair and tugged, hard enough to draw a loud moan out of your chest.

Astarion covered your mouth with his hand, his eyes playfully wide. "Shhh, unless you want the others to come looking. We're not that far away from camp."

Heat rushed through your body. "Oh, gods, Astarion, I'm— I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to— And I certainly didn't expect it to be that...that loud—! I..."

He swallowed your frantic apologies with a kiss. Against your lips, he whispered, "If you can keep quiet, though...I can grant you all the pleasure you want. You need only ask, darling."

Your heart skipped several beats in your chest. You put your hand up to his face. "Oh, I don't... Star, I don't need you to, I wouldn't want you to...feel obligated." He pulled his forehead away from yours to see your face. "We agreed not to do anything until you're ready. And that wasn't that long ago, so... I don't want you to be uncomfortable—"

Astarion cupped your chin with his hand, dragging his thumb across your lower lip. The words died in your throat. He met your gaze, his crimson eyes open and honest, and said, "Your pleasure is a gift. Even if I don't want to be touched yet, that's not stopping me from touching you. Only you can stop me from touching you."

"Star..."

He pulled you into a tight hug. You wrapped your arms around him, suddenly too aware of the raised scar you felt against your arms. "I trust you. Wholeheartedly. I trust you to...to respect my boundaries. To check in with me. To see when I'm uncomfortable. You've already done it, again and again, and proved that you're worthy of that trust. And do I look uncomfortable now?"

You studied him. His pupils were blown. His eyes told a story of contentment. The tenseness you had once noticed laying deep and dormant in his muscles was gone. He looked at you with a fondness you realized now was a profound trust and he stood utterly relaxed in your arms.

So you answered him honestly. "No."

"Exactly, darling. I'm not uncomfortable. I want to do this for you, if that's what you also want. I feel...safe with you. I've never felt like this around anyone before," he admitted, a bit of sadness creeping onto his face, "and I don't want to ruin it. I don't know... I don't know what I'm doing, but I'm going to try to do right by you. So if you want me..." He placed his hand low on your abdomen. Your stomach did flips. He put his lips against the shell of your ear. "Tell me, darling, because I certainly want you. All I ask is that you not touch me, not just yet."

You whimpered. "Please, Star. I promise not to touch you, I promise. But please touch me."

"That's my girl," he whispered. "Spread your legs for me, no need to be so nervous."

You readjusted your stance, widening the space between your previously clenched thighs. His hand filled the gap, cupping you gently. You sighed, leaning your head against his chest again, looking down to watch his ministrations.

Astarion pressed his palm to your clit. You watched his wrist move as he slid his fingers along your slit, teasing you and never quite touching you where you needed him. You whimpered as his fingertip lightly ghosted your entrance, just barely dipping inside before he moved his hand back up, his fingers toying with your clit.

"That's it," he whispered in your ear. "Make those quiet, pretty sounds for me. Show me how you feel."

You rocked your hips against his hand. "Astarion, please..."

He kissed your temple. "Feeling good?"

Your broken moan was your answer. He chuckled, sliding his hand up your side, taking your breast in the palm of his hand. He rolled your nipple between his fingers, making you gasp and buck your hips against him. He closed his lips around it and sucked gently.

"More," you whispered. "Please. I need...I need you."

"Alright, darling, alright," he said against your skin. He rubbed your entrance for another moment, then slid his finger inside you. You clenched down on him as you sighed your pleasure. He curled his finger inside you, rubbing away at your walls, and you gasped loudly.

Astarion grinned. "Make those noises. Moan for me. I want you to show me how good this feels, show me you want me." You gripped tightly onto him, one hand on the back of his neck and the other on his hip. Your breaths grew heavy and your whimpers louder. "Yes, that's it! Be loud for me, my sweet, the loudest you've ever—"

A branch cracked in the forest. A voice called out your name, then Astarion's. You jumped a mile and Astarion's finger slipped out of you. You stared at each other with wide eyes.

"D...did you hear that?" you asked. "Or am I hearing things?"

As if an answer, the voice—Gale's—shouted again, "I know you're over here, I can see your boots!"

"Shit," Astarion sighed. He craned his head to peer around the curtain of water. "What the hells do you want?"

"Is she with you?" Gale asked. "Shadowheart sent me to find you both, the rest of us have all finished washing up! There's water left for you."

"That's what we're trying to do, Gale!" you called, reaching an arm through the waterfall and waving at him. "Use the water for something else, we'll make do here."

He harrumphed. "If I had known this was just a few minutes away from camp, I would have come to wash up here ages ago."

You and Astarion exchanged a look. So much for a secret getaway spot.

"Be back soon, or Karlach will start worrying," Gale said, in the tone of a chiding parent. "And no funny business!"

"Oh, shut up!" Astarion shouted, the tips of his ears turning a deep pink. He ducked behind the water again and holding you close. You barely held back your giggles while the two of you listened for Gale to walk away. One slipped out and Astarion hurriedly covered your mouth with his hand. You licked his palm and he pulled it away quickly. "You weirdo!"

You wrapped your arms around him and leaned into his chest. "Yes, but I'm your weirdo. You love me anyway."

Astarion pushed a strand of your wet hair behind your ear. "I love you anyway," he admitted, with a fondness that turned you into mush in his arms. He held you close for several moments, then asked, "Do you want me to continue?"

You thought about it, then shook your head. "Not just now. I suspect Karlach will be on her way to investigate the waterfall I didn't have the decency tell anyone about very soon."

"Very well," he said. "I'll finish you off later in my tent, then. As long as you can keep quiet for me, darling." He gave you that charming smile that made your stomach do flips.

"I thought you liked me loud," you teased.

Astarion rolled his eyes, playful and flirtation in such a comfortable way that it warmed your heart more than any of his touches ever could, delightful as they were. "Only when I have you all to myself, lover." He nipped at your neck, his fangs scratching but not breaking your skin. "Your moans are mine."

You stood together like that for several more moments, his hands on your hips and your arms looped around his neck, your foreheads pressed together. You exchanged dainty kisses, basking in each other in the few minutes left you had alone.

At last, you planted one firm, lingering kiss to his lips. "Let me clean you off," you said. "Though you're going to have to crouch for me to get your hair." Most of the blood and grime had been washed away by the waterfall's spray, but his silver hair was still speckled with it all, and you could taste it on his lips—sour and gritty. No wonder he only drank from goblins as a last resort.

Astarion bent his head down, pressing his forehead into your shoulder and holding you by the waist. You ran your fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp and smiling (but saying nothing) every time your touch managed to pull a soft whimper or moan from him without him realizing it.

You washed his body anyway, wiping away the remaining grime and massaging his muscles. You enjoyed the way he relaxed in your arms, quietly asking for more or less pressure.

"My back," he said, voice quiet and almost timid. "Can you...?"

"Are you sure?" you asked, frowning.

He nodded and turned in your arms, exposing his back to you. You started slowly, massaging his upper back and shoulders before working your way down, giving him plenty of time to tell you to stop if he needed to. But he leaned into your touch and responded with more of those gentle and timid—but happy—sounds.

You kissed the nape of his neck when you were finished, rested your head against his back, and wrapped your arms around his waist. His hands found yours and laced your fingers together.

"Thank you, my love," he said. "I've never... No one has ever done that for me before."

You hugged him tighter. "Any time you need me—I'm here. I will always be here." You stepped away and guided him out of the water with a hand. "Come on, we should head back."

The pair of you helped each other dress, though neither of you were wearing anything that required the help. You suspected Astarion just wanted to keep you close; when he got into his cuddly moods, it lasted for hours at a time. You would sleep wrapped up in your vampire's arms, safe and comfortable, tonight.

You were both pulling on your boots when Karlach found you.

"There you are!" she said. "Why didn't you tell us where you'd run off to?"

You shrugged. "I wanted the peace and quiet," you said honestly. "Besides, you all take forever to clean off."

Astarion snickered. "She's right about that."

Karlach sat on the moss, staring at the waterfall. "Well, you're right about one thing, soldier—this place is peaceful."

You hummed your agreement. "Yes. I'm glad we camped near it, or I never would have found it."

"How did you find this place?" she asked.

"Hunting," you said.

"Really? I assumed it must have been when you and Astarion sneak out so the rest of us can't hear you having sex." You choked on air and she laughed. "What? He found it easily!"

Astarion spluttered. "Because I could smell her!"

You sighed. "Karlach, we stopped sneaking off ages ago. We don't need to, we sleep in the same tent now. Rest assured, if anything is happening, it's happening silently and the rest of you are none the wiser to it."

"That doesn't make me rest assured."

You laughed. Astarion smiled at you, the kind of smile that made his eyes seem a little less dark and made you really remember that he was an elf.

"Well, I don't know about you two, but I'm going back to camp," he said. "I'm sure there's much to discuss about these...impertinent creatures who keep attacking us." He kissed your cheek and whispered into your ear, "I'll see you tonight, darling. What we do is up to you."

Before he could leave, you reached over and held his cheek, kissing him firmly on the lips. He smiled into it.

"Lovebirds," Karlach groaned, rolling her eyes, "will you please get a room?"

"The next time we stop at an inn—yes," Astarion said, winked at you, then disappeared into the woods.

You gulped. "I pity whoever is in the room next to us."

Karlach snorted. "I pity you and your poor cervix!"

"Karlach!" You splashed her with water and she roared with laughter.

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding! Only slightly."

You huffed, scooped up your weapons, and started back to camp. Karlach followed.

"I mean, in all honesty, you two were so loud that first time we all heard you at camp, even though you snuck away. Kept us all awake, but you sounded like you were having a good time. So clearly he's doing something right, but can you take all of that every time? You were walking with a limp the next morning—"

"Okay, let's change the subject," you said loudly, heat racing through your body. Remembrance pulsed through you again, ghostly touches and reminders of just how easily Astarion made you scream.

She giggled. Gods, she was spending too much time with you and Astarion; he was rubbing off on her. "Oh, yes, because what would poor Gale say if he heard?"

You rolled your eyes. "It's not Gale I'm worried about, it's Astarion. If he hears you, he's going to become insufferable."

"Isn't he already?"

You whacked her with the flat end of your sheathed dagger. She laughed, putting her hands up in surrender.

The others were cleaning up camp when you arrived, scrubbing blood from tents and carpets and hauling away corpses and severed limbs.

Gale waved when he saw you, then jerked his thumb toward Astarion. "Didn't he just wash?"

You looked over at your vampire, only to find him feeding on a goblin. He looked up at you and grinned sheepishly, a trickle of blood sliding out of his mouth and down his neck.

"I just washed him, actually," you said dryly. "Astarion, you aren't that messy of an eater. What on earth are you doing?"

"Oh, so now you deign to eat the goblins," Karlach scoffed.

He shrugged. "What? I'm hungry!"

You spluttered. "You could have just asked me!"

Astarion wiped his mouth with a feral grin. "Well, I'll keep that in mind later, darling." He winked at you and then blew you a quick kiss. He shoved the carcass into the woods and went into his tent, closing the flap behind him.

Gale sighed heavily before looking back at you. "That one. Are you sure you want to choose that one?"

"Yes, Gale, I want that one."

He shrugged. "Suit yourself."

~❊~

Night fell. One by one, the others retired to their tents. Only Karlach and Gale remained awake when you left the fire and slipped into Astarion's tent.

He was laying on his side, reading and drinking blood, the picture of leisure. He closed his book immediately when you laid beside him and pulled you flush against his body.

"There you are," he said, snuggling into your shoulder. "I was beginning to wonder if you were coming."

You reached up and dragged your fingers through his perfect curls. "You don't have to wonder about that ever, Star. As long as I live, I'll be coming home to you. Even if I have to crawl."

"Gods, I love you," he said, wrapping himself around you. You kissed the top of his head.

"I love you, too," you whispered. He sighed happily and cuddled into you, sliding one of his legs between your own and settling there. A few minutes later, you felt the pressure of his knee against your clothed crotch. "What are you doing, mister?"

He grinned at you, showing both fangs. "Finishing what I started," he said cheekily. He began undoing the lacing at the front of your pants. "Now, just lay still for me, dear. And please do your best to keep quiet—I'd hate to have to cover that pretty mouth with my hand. Again."

☞ ❊ ☜

[Image Caption: I do not give permission to repost, translate, or publish my work on any other site or app by anyone except myself. I do not give permission for my work to be fed into AI (for audio, art, or writing).]

Baldur's Gate 3 // Astarion Acunin

Taglist: {comment and let me know if you'd like to be added to the Astarion taglist!} @wayward-hel @cheeslyy @ofmyth-andmagicart @neetheslayer @whispering-depths @freesidexjunkie @lightsinmycity @the0ldmann @gobbodoggo @oooof-ifellforyou @beeblisss @fangboner @aquaarietes @fiercest-eigengrau-skies @niqhtfell @call-me-nyxx @lueji-m @ceres-xiv @tricksy-trinity @graynstairs @rosa-rubus @ynisthatyou

[astrolovecosmos]

The Planets & Random or Obscure Associations

~Sun~

Creativity, vitality, head of state, the father, games, yellow and orange clothing, articles of value, jewelry, gold, brass, power, diamonds, citrine, topaz, jasper, amber, rhodochrosite, mistletoe, almonds, citrus, succulents, sunflowers, fevers, heart, back, spine, grapes, walnuts, rice, chamomile, frankincense, juniper, saffron, marigold, rosemary, rue, palaces, towers, luxury.

~Moon~

Eternal, cycles, silver, aluminum, pearls, moonstone, opal, selenite, chest, glands, lymphatic system, nervous system, emotions, mother, ancestors, nurture, rebirth, tides, baths, ocean, brew, boat, sap, willow trees, succulents, pale color plants, white flowers, cucumber, cabbage, lettuce, melons, shellfish, pumpkins, lakes, fountains, ports, fishponds, pools, springs, sewers, dairies, toys, reflection, blankets, objects of comfort.

~Mercury~

Communication, journal, pen/pencil, any writing tools, wings, phosphorous, mercury, agate, tiger's eye, brain, nervous system, eyes, respiration, thyroid, speech, hearing, intellect, vehicles, money, bills, paper, books, pictures, parties or social gatherings, scientific instruments, butterflies, messages, mail, hazel, mulberry, myrtle, seeds, aniseed, dill, fennel, lavender, liquorice, marjoram, parsley, valerian, hazelnuts, beans, mushrooms, pomegranates, carrots, celery, libraries, schools, markets, fairs, public spaces, tennis or badminton court, studies, banks, bowling greens, offices, blue, white, or light colored flowers.

~Venus~

Love, relating, lust, high-quality fabrics, copper, bronze, sodium, malachite, tourmaline, emerald, rose quartz, kunzite, sapphire, pastels, throat, kidneys, lumber region, art, music, aesthetics, social life, fashion, jewelry, wine, pleasure, alder tree, fruit trees, paint, ash tree, birch, pomegranates, early flowering, daisy, mint, marshmallow, meadowsweet, mugwort, plantain, tansy, roses, thyme, vervain, yarrow, potatoes, strawberries, wheat, sugar, nectarines, ballrooms, bedrooms, dining room, gardens, fountains, wardrobes, theaters, looking and feeling good.

~Mars~

Lust, conquest, desire, flaming sword, red things, fights, iron, brass, bloodstone, carnelian, cinnabar, pyrite, magnetite, ruby, garnet, hematite, muscles, reproductive organs, blood, kidneys, immunity, heat, action, arms, pepper, sharp instruments, cutlery, attacks, scissors, weapons, physical intimacy, bites, stings, scalds, burns, accidents, hawthorn, pine, thorns, cactus, aloes, anemone, arnica, belladonna, garlic, ginger, hops, mustard seed, nettles, wormwood, chives, onions, leeks, radish, rhubarb, tobacco, labs, furnaces, distilleries, bakehouses, ovens, smiths, butchers, fields, anger, passion, self-focus.

~Jupiter~

Expansion, optimism, religion, religious sites, tin, seduction, turquoise, chrysocolla, topaz, citrine, jasper, liver, pancreas, pituitary gland, sciatic nerve, excess, abundance, prophecy, philosophy, knowledge, universities, foreign travel, luggage, honey, oil, silk, fruit, distinct clothing, merchandise, horses, domestic birds, gambling, indulgence, entertainment, oak, dandelion, sage, endive, chervil, asparagus, figs, churches, temples, palaces, altars, courts, mansions, woods, orchards, winery, cornucopia, connecting with the soul.

~Saturn~

Limits, boundaries, father time, lord of death, shadows, lead, iron, steel, calcium, asbestos, sulphur, diamond, onyx, calcite, skeleton, spleen, skin, teeth, nails, joints, structure, crystallization, old age, blockage, anything dark, wool, heavy materials, agriculture, wheelbarrows, spades, farm houses and buildings, cold, laws, aspen, blackthorn, buckthorn, cypress, elm, toxic plants, hemlock, henbane, belladonna, hellebore, barley, beetroot, safflower, parsnips, spinach, deserts, woods, valleys, caves, church yards, ruins, coalpits, sinks, wells, mud, institutions.

~Uranus~

Eccentrics, mavericks, invention, genius, revolution, change, trends, disruptive science or tech, uranium, magnesium, lapis lazuli, sapphire, aquamarine, azurite, chalcedony, electricity, neon lights, plaid, nervous and circulatory system, pineal gland, chaos, violence, upheaval, astrology, steam engines, coal, machinery, coins, baths, fishponds, dangerous places, computers, magnets, quantum physics, research, welfare, humanity, hypnotherapy, railways, banks, gas, psychiatric hospitals, offices, hospitals, dispensaries, fortified places, chemicals, mingled/mingling, spirit and matter.

~Neptune~

Illusions, veils, diffuse, deception, water, oceans, mysticism, enlightenment, artistic pursuit and understanding, zinc, potassium, amethyst, fluorite, jade, sugilite, coral, aquamarine, pineal gland, lymphatic and nervous system, spine, mental processes, addiction, psychoses, disease, photography, music, substances, gas, religion, poetry, mimicry, chameleon, anesthetic, telepathy, empathy, dancing, psychic gifts, places near water, hospitals, places of healing, jeweler, painters, brewers, musicians, visionary.

~Pluto~

Power, influence, darkness, new life, what's hidden underneath, seeds, volcanoes, deep earth or ocean, bury, explosions, eruptions, abduction, plutonium, smoky quartz, obsidian, jet, pearl, deep reds, reproductive organs, the unconscious, nuclear, transformation, death, birth, rebirth, underworld, riches, earthquakes, big business, murder, detection, detective, invisibility, sneak, enforced change, hidden places, underground, drains, sewers, radioactive places, the occult, black magic, sacrifice, renew.

[sidthedollface2]

A Crown fit for a God

(Part 2 here)

Pairing: Azriel x Fem Reader

Summary: An enemy threatens Velaris leaving Azriel to choose between his found family and a long lost friend. Can he juggle the two or will he fall for the enemy?

word count: 2.6k

Series warnings: 18+ MDNI, angst, hurt/comfort,light smut, war, including injuries, fighting, sign language, no use of y/n, nicknames, magic, greek mythology, pining, jealousy, azriel with other women (sorry), reader with another man (get it friend ; )

A/n: I'm a daydreamer not a writer so if you see any mistakes that's how I dreamt it. Lol

Azriel sat at his desk, reports and sightings of a hooded being trespassing multiple courts, leaving behind scorched farm lands and destroyed buildings scattered across the table. “Any luck?” Elain questioned, running her gentle hands over Azriel's shoulders, loosening his tense muscles. “I’ve been searching for over 500 years, but I think I'm getting close. Most recent sightings have been by women and children. Day or night it does not matter, they've seen IT and their bodies remain still, unable to move or scream until their work is done.” Azriel stared at the map of Prythian. “I think it’s finally here,” he met Elains worried eyes, “in the Night Court.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Azriel 8 yrs old

Azriel stopped sobbing once he knew no one would come for him. The foul smell of char and burnt flesh still lingered in his cell. His small hands trembled and shook from the intense pain, bubbles full of fluid and blackened skin covered both hands. Fingers locked and unable to move, not even to wipe at his heavy tears. The four walls to his cell provided nothing but cold nights and loneliness. With nothing to soothe the heat from his hands Azriel pressed his blistered palms flat to the cold floors. Hissing through clenched teeth as the coldness relieved some of the ache and heat within. Azriel hummed to a song inside his head, anything to pull his tired mind away from the pain and hopelessness he felt. With his eyes squeezed shut he tried to will the tears away, humming louder and louder to drown out his thoughts. His mind circled to a happier time. 

Small feet padding through fields of tall grass as he raced to his favorite spot; under a weeping willow. Perched against the tall tree the scent of fresh apples and citrus filled his nose as the wind carried the delicious scent towards him. His ears caught the melodious song of birds high above him. His gaze tracked up the tree to spot the feathered songbird but as soon as he craned his neck towards the sky time froze. A beautiful luna moth with large iridescent wings took flight, landing on the soft skin of Azriel’s cheek, tickling the small boy awake.

Azriel quickly opened his eyes, blinking rapidly in the darkness. The scent of citrus still lingered and time was eerily still. His pupils widened, adjusting to focus on what he was seeing. In the corner of his cell a shadowed figure stood still. Scrambling to his feet Azriel backed himself into the wall behind him. The dark figure inched closer, slowly, step by step. The hooded figure reached for Azriel's small hand. He told his mind to pull away, and to resist. But he was frozen against the cold wall, unable to move or cry out for help; not that anyone would help him. He tried to scream but the air left his lungs. Peeking beneath a hood Azriel saw the most stunning and captivating eyes he’d ever seen. Neither of the same color, yet bright and brilliant. One holds the color of the night sky, dark with swirls of violet and starlight. The other is pale and cloudy like the surface of the moon from Prythian. Your long shiny hair framed your youthful face and pouty lips perfectly. You don’t look much older than him yet you have this ancient presence he can't put his finger on.  

You're cool fingertips brush his knuckles, testing for his reaction. A small smile graces your lips as you remember that he’s unable to move. At least unable to move his outer extremities and vocal chords. Yet the windows to his soul tell you he's frightened. His wide hazel eyes are glassy, tears slowly filling his waterline. The rapid rise and fall in his chest is another clue to his distress. You let out a soft sigh as a single tear runs down his dirty cheek. Taking a step back you lay your palm flat against your chest, hoping he’ll understand what you intend to convey. Again, you pat your chest and azriel blinks in response. Bringing your hands in front of you, you tuck your fingers in creating a fist and curl both your forefingers and hook them together, with one wrist facing down and the other up you sign the word ‘Friend.’  

You wait for his breaths to slow before you gather his burned hand within yours. His knuckles are angry and reddened from the lack of healthy skin. Moderate pieces are blackened and multiple blisters are threatening to burst.  Carefully, you examine the extensive damage that was done, and begin to call upon your magic. Azriel's eyes widen to the size of saucers when your fingertips spark with what looks like stardust and your hand turns completely black from your fingertips down to your wrist. You gently run your star glittered forefinger down his. Starting at the base of his knuckle to the tip of his finger, healing all the delicate tissue and epidermis just like it was before. You release the magic holding him still, allowing him to relax his shoulders and curl the finger you healed. “How did-” the words die in his mouth as you continue to work on the next finger. Tracing once again from the base of his knuckle, down his slender finger to his nail. Revealing smooth and supple skin, no longer burned and charred.

The loud sound of a door opening startled both of you apart. Stopping your healing magic at only two fingers, Azriels paniced eyes met yours. You knew what he was asking. But you couldn't grant him more time, at least not yet. Quickly, you pulled your hood up over your head. Closing your hand in a fist you brought it to your chest, moving it in a circular motion; signing the word ‘sorry.’ 

“Wait!” Azriel’s arms dart out grasping onto the sleeve of your cloak only for the garment to fall at a pile to his feet. “Mother!” he gasped, shocked at your sudden disappearance, leaving behind your cloak that still had warmth and your scent. 

He’d kept your cloak all these years, the only cloth in his cell that kept him warm on those freezing nights. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Az, something is breaching the wards, get down here. 

Rhys panicked words pierced through Azriel's mind as he abruptly sat up from the bed, the bed he shared with Elain. He quickly pulled his pants on, followed by his shirt and protective leathers. Placing a kiss to Elain's forehead, he winnowed to the location Rhys mentioned. 

An invisible force separated the three males from the dark figure that threatened Velaris. 

“Is It alone?” Cassian questioned, glancing behind and around the figure, assessing the intruder. His fingers itched at his sides, waiting for the slightest movement to unleash his blade. 

“She’s alone.” Rhys confirmed, gaze narrowed and unwavering at the dark figure. 

“She?” Both Cassian and Azriel said in unison, a look of shock on both their faces. It wasn’t that they doubted a female's ability. They knew the power that simmered beneath the skin. The unending strength, if provoked enough. The females in the inner circle, if combined, could take on males twice their size and fight wars alongside the bravest of warriors, but not alone. You’d have to be extremely powerful or extremely stupid to dare face the night court’s high lord alone.

Her gaze lifted above to the bright blue sky as if the power holding Velaris safe was visible to the eye. Her head swiveled left, noting how large the protection ran. Then to her right, gauging the amount of magic needed to breach the wards. At the moment, no army trailed behind her. No warrior or protector was by her side. She was simply there to send a message. 

“She’s unarmed.” Azriel's shadows slithered back to him, informing him of the lack of weapons and armor. She was defenseless and although a powerful barrier kept her out of Velaris, the two most violent and skilled warriors along with the most powerful highlord stood before her; she remained fearless. Her strong legs planted firm in the soil. It was difficult to determine what was under her dark cloak. His shadows stilled as her gaze met those of the shadowsinger. He knew those eyes. Azriel had searched for those beautiful eyes in every court, in every crowd, in every female. He’d dreamed of the day he’d see them again. His attention was directed to Rhys as he spoke in a firm demanding tone. 

“I will say this once, and only once-” 

Rhys' voice caught in his throat as the female's palms met the protective barrier. Electric current coursed through her veins, the power of lightning flickered from her fingers creating an orb of pure energy. Her foot dug into the soil behind her as she braced herself pushing through the wards, creating a space for her body to pass. All three males rushed towards her, charging at the enemy with bared teeth and blades ready to attack. Their large bulking frames and violence in their eyes was enough to bring grown men to their feet. 

Cassian sent a blast of red power straight towards her, expecting it to hit its target. Although stronger than most fae, his blast passed through her like a strong gust of wind. Whipping her head to its side, causing her long hair to flow out from under her hood. Her feet stayed planted, unwavering.

“Mother above.” Cassian breathed before he held his sword up high, slicing through the air as he brought it down over her head. Rhys' eyes widened for a fraction as Azriel’s truth teller clashed with Cassian, blocking his effort to harm her. Azriel’s shoulder roughly dug into Cassian's chest as he shoved his brother back with force. Betrayal laced in Cassian's eyes as he gaped at his brother. Out of all their arguments and bickering not once has Azriel disagreed with a common enemy. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Cassian sneered, meeting Azriels force with his own. Never one to back down at defending his court or his high lord. 

“You foolish boy!” Amren called from a distance, closing the space between them, “you cannot kill a God.” 

“Took you long enough,” Rhys tisked, plucking an invisible lint from his dark shirt. 

The hooded figure narrowed her eyes at the approaching Amren and scowled at the title that she clearly did not like. Azriel and Cassian ceased their bickering as Rhys' power shook the very ground they stood on, a wave of darkness ready to protect his city.

 “No one has breached these wards in 5,000 years.” Rhys declared with all the confidence of a high lord. Stepping forward, commanding the eyes of the hooded figure in a challenge, “what business does a God have in Velaris, surely you have better things to do.”

“Do not mock her, she can kill you where you stand.” Amren whispered. “As can I.” Rhys challenged. 

Her face remained unseen under the protection of her hood. Slowly her fingers came up beside her face, grasping the edges of the hood, she pushed the dark fabric over her head, revealing herself.

Amrens words ring true when the goddess reveals herself. Her beauty is unique and divine, flawless in the way that makes males fall to their knees. 

All the air from Azriels lungs vanished as he stared into those eyes. Years he’d been searching every court, reading countless books on healers and where they originated. Shamelessly making eye contact with each female he met hoping to one day find the mute girl who gave him purpose.  To hope one day he could thank her for her kindness to a boy who had nothing. 

“I’ve been looking for you.” Azriel exhaled, holding a palm out to Rhys and his brother letting them know ‘he’s got this.’ 

Your brows furrowed, and your eyes trailed down Azriels body. Trying your hardest to put a face or name to the male in front of you. After years of imagining how seeing you again would be, he didn't put into account the possibility of you not recognizing him. While Azriel admired how much you've grown since he first saw you. Your gaze seemed to pass right through him. And his worst fears were confirmed with a tilt of your head. 

You didn’t remember him. 

You couldn't recall any detail or encounter that would cause you to remember the male. Instead you focused your gaze on the High Lord. you were here to deliver a message after all. 

“High Lord of Night, ready your soldiers, a war is among you.” 

Surprise passed through Azriels eyes as he heard you speak. The day he met you your only form of communication was through hand signs. And now your voice is laced with threat, nothing like the gentle girl he met hundreds of years ago. He wonders what had changed.  

“And what do you bring to this war?” Rhys expression hardened. He tried to enter your mind to see for himself the truth of your words. Surprised to see your mind vulnerable for all, yet within the space were no visions or memories of your past, but  rings of blazing fire encircled a black hole with unknown knowledge within. Rhys had read about minds with black holes. It was a mystery as to what one would find within the hole. Some say time freezes for the observer, how long till it resumes has never been answered. Others say that if you fall into the black hole your mind fails the body and a blazing fire consumes you from the inside out, leaving behind ashes to be carried by the wind. 

“I bring Chaos and unrest, Lord of Night it be wise of you to heed my warning because your life will be in my hands.” 

Within seconds the afternoon sky turned dark and gray, the loud crack of thunder boomed in the distance and before either of them could reach you, you summoned a strike of lightning; hitting the ground like a whip. The flash was bright as it hit  and Rhys witnessed the wards he placed on Velaris crumble. A loud roar was heard throughout Velaris, a deadly creature answering your call.  It was then he realized, struggling to push through a small door to get within the protection wards was just for show. And whatever message you needed to deliver, something frightening answered. 

 Between the flashes of lightning and the echoes of thunder, just beyond the way they saw hundreds and hundreds of waiting soldiers. Looking at your retreating form, Azriel, Cassian and Amren rubbed at their eyes.

Once you reached the front line of fighters you looked over your shoulder, meeting Rhys powerful gaze and with a slight smirk you replaced his wards and removed the illusioned warriors. Leaving Velaris protected as it once was but now the threat of death and destruction looms near, not only to Rhys but everything and everyone he holds dear in Velaris. 

Part 2

~ thank you for reading

[anaquariusart]

YOUR FLIPLINE FURRIES ARE EVERYTHING TO ME OMG

I’m so glad everyone likes them!

Here’s James and Willow, I went with @citrus-custrus idea to make James an otter because I heard that they are one of the few animals outside of primates who use tools 🦦

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

TALK TO THE DOVES (IX)

|| COV MASTERLIST || NEXT: CHAPTER X ||

PAIRING: Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick x F!Reader

WORDCOUNT: 4.7k

WARNINGS: Angst, strained familial relationships, crying, mentions of suicide, I can finally I can say we have fluff & hurt/comfort y'all, etc.

A/N: Surprise, the MC finally gets her nickname

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

“Tell me about the,” your mother pauses, looking at you as you sit at the dinner table for supper. She’d made a hearty meal—stacks and food piled high on the long, polished wood. Her throat clears. “The years. How is school? Keeping up with classes?” 

“Yeah,” you mutter, your plate holding all the items it had started with. Alex was drying the dishes, of his own volition, you have to add, across the room while Gaz took a long sip of water from his cup. The Sergeant leans against the island and tries to look like he’s not listening, tapping his foot on the floor in steady intervals. “It’s good. You?”

Your mom frowns, setting down her utensils with a clink. Alex hums a song under his breath and sets a dry pan on the counter. 

Eyes darting to the open patio curtains, you stare out across the estate, your estate, before your mother brings you back in with a strained sigh. She’s watching you—gaze hard on your face but not once do you look into her with anything other than a brief glance.

“I’ve been talking with Mr. Ramsey,” she says like she’s reading the newspaper.

Kyle and you both go rigid at the name. 

It’s only after you get over the slap to your face that you take a shallow breath, blinking quickly. “My…professor?” 

“Mhm.” Clearing her throat, she takes the glass of water from the table and sips slowly. The scent of her perfume—citrus and wool—invades your nostrils even if she’s a good few feet away on the opposite end. Horrible, and evoking memories like no other. It suddenly makes you sick to be in the same room as her. “I asked him to keep up on you while I was away at work.” A pause. “Hector too.” 

A sharp gasp is twisting in your throat. You think you stop breathing entirely.

“Now, before you go and act like you usually do,” hands clench and start to shake. “I really need you to understand—you’re my daughter, and you’ve lost your father; I lost a husband. Without all of,” her hands shrug, “this going on, I still wanted you to be looked after while I…tried to fix myself. I needed my work, but I needed my girl to be safe too.”

Inside of your sockets, your eyes twitch, staring blankly into her neck and the expensive jewelry she wears as if the glimmering will give you an answer as to what had brought this along. Her logic wasn’t what bothered you—caring about your child is natural. 

But yours was a special case. Because by her logic…she knew about…You make a small wheezing noise in your chest involuntarily.

Alex has stopped drying; Gaz widely side-eyes the interaction, fancy glass stalled at his lips. 

“Now,” your mom smiles easily, body burning with pride. “With that out of the way, back to you—let's maybe get some wine from the cellar? We can sit in the library and talk like old times. I remember your father’s bottle of—”

“Cellar’s empty,” you push back from the table and stalk off. “Enjoy your supper.” 

“Erm,” she stares after in shock, face pulling in while her neck’s vein pops. “Sweetheart? Please, let’s not fight. I just want to know what you’ve been up to—I’m worried, you seem exactly the same as when I first left...”

You walk and disappear out the back door, not leaving the estate, no, just…going. Gaz makes a small huff of air from his nose and lightly jogs after you; exiting the house just as the door’s about to slip back closed. 

Walking a short while, you push through the willow trees near the back pond and plop to the long grassy ground. 

Gaz sighs into the dark area, scanning the shadows. He wants to tell you that you both shouldn’t be here, but you’re already reclining back on your hands with your legs popping out ahead of you; the water ripples in the moonlight.

A small silence echoes like mute steel. 

“Should have known,” you end up muttering under your breath. “Figures.” 

Hec had been your mother’s bug, Mr. Rasmey, that ass of a professor, too. Why did it have to be Hector? The one…the one damn person it would hurt to have it be. 

You can’t even find the energy to cry, you just fold your arms and lay back, scalp grinding away plush greenery as it digs into the earth. 

“She seems to only have good intentions, yeah?” Gaz coughs, unable to stay completely silent in this instance. His anger still simmered, but…well…it wouldn’t be fair to keep you isolated if you insisted on pulling away from everyone else. That wasn’t who he was.

He supposed he was the only one able to get any sort of reaction now. “Just because there were extra tasks didn’t make Hector’s feelings any less fake, Ma’am.”

“Back to ‘Ma’am’ now?” You huff, brows loose and sullen. 

Kyle stares before his browns begin to soften on the edges. He looks to the ground before sighing and walking a few steps forward, easily stooping down and sitting beside you—a good few feet away. The Sergeant takes off his hat and places it on the ground beside him, running a hand over his hair and rubbing the back of his head.

“Well, what else would I call you?”

“I don’t know,” you stare at the wisps of the willows. “Idiot?” You say lower, “Mental?” 

The man’s eyes lightly flinch at that. 

“That wasn’t…” he begins, clenching his jaw in guilt. “I said some things I shouldn't have and I—”

“I’m sorry.” 

The world sills and a gentle breeze makes the trees speak for you as the shock lays waste to the sinews of your throats. 

It’s as if the words had taken what little resolve you had and shattered it entirely. The back of your eyes burns. 

“I’m sorry, Kyle.” You say it again and fold your elbow over your mouth as it quivers. “M’sorry.” Again, again, again, until a small break in your voice makes you go quiet again—you shove your flesh over your face, eyes narrowed with tears you refuse to let fall. 

Gaz’s face is open with delicate concern, chest tight and fingers so frozen he could pull the trigger on a rifle and nail a shot with little effort. Did he even have a heartbeat? 

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” you hiccup, not able to stop now that it’s started. “And everything hurts. I-It’s all spinning so fast I don’t know who I am, but I know that you’re right and it burns.” 

He’s taking you by the shoulders and grappling you into his arms. 

His touch has the same feeling as when he’d panicked at seeing your blood in your father’s office, pulled you in, and set you down on the couch. A tight and firm hold of skin and fabric; of a care that goes bone-deep and calls to this man’s nature—a gentle love for the protection of all innocent people. 

Your face finds the dip of his neck, hands wrapping his waist. It had been so long since you’d wanted to hug someone. Your mother didn’t count, no, right now you needed someone you hate to fix this. 

And there was no one better.

You hang off of Gaz’s shirt and he places a hand on the back of your head, lightly keeping you to him as you shake and lean into his chest. He curves over you slightly, as if shielding you as he did at the park—but there were no bullets here, no great boom of guns being fired, or rapid footsteps at your heels. 

There was no deteriorating room with peeling wallpaper; chairs and the scrape of a bag over your head. 

It was just the willows, the pond, and the two enemies. 

“It hurts,” you sob into Kyles's neck, and his lips thin as he pulls you to him tighter. “God, it always hurts, and I’m so tired of it. I can’t sleep, I can’t eat; I don’t feel good anymore. I don’t even remember what it’s like t-to wake up and feel happy that I did.”

“It’s okay,” Gaz mumbles. “Hey, it’s going to be alright, yeah? Just breathe with me.” 

Your words are garbled and wet, you breathe in shuddering gasps. It’s ugly, your crying, it gives you a headache, but not once do those hands leave from around you. 

“I don’t want to keep feeling like this, Gaz.” Fingers digging into his shirt, you have to wonder if he’s repulsed by you—you’d been so rude to him, so uncaring and blunt. 

But how else were you supposed to act? 

The Sergeant may not have pulled the trigger, but he was there. He was there…and he had apologized for his part. 

This was not forgiveness, but it was the only thing you could offer anymore.

You nuzzle your face deeper into Kyle’s neck, limp and still feeling tears being expelled from your eye sockets; lids firmly closed. It’s in a brief second of the still-air between another sob that you hear him speak again. 

Gaz’s eyes stare off at the mansion behind you as he breathes in silent puffs, heart beating quickly and his pulse hammering. This was beyond what he had expected from you, but that didn’t change the fact that what you were saying made his mouth tight and his face crease.

He knew it was bad, but…

“You’re afraid of me.” The thought hadn’t left him since the blow-up in the hallway. It’s said in a whisper, finally bringing to light the fact he already knew. The sarcasm as a defense, the biting comments, sneaking away and not trusting him. He already understood it on the second day you’d officially met.

Your tears wet his clothes, sticking them to his heated skin as your breath creates condensation. You shake so bad that it becomes apparent it’s not only from your mind breaking. 

It’s because you’re close to him. 

Brown eyes widen, and he glances down at your head in pain, yet even so your hands keep him to you like a bear, panting and near hysterical. 

“I just want,” you confess, his fingers heavy across your spine as the willows rustle. “I just want it all to stop.” 

You shouldn’t be here—not like this. Not with him.

But, dammit, being anywhere else is even worse.

“Easy, Sweetheart,” Kyle speaks quickly, accent deep on his smooth tone. “I’m going to get you through this. It’ll end, I promise you. Nothing that’s goin’ on is permanent.” 

He’s hesitant to do more, not wanting to step any boundaries, but you’re still not calming down; three years of heartbreak spilling out like a broken vase. Kyle’s head finds the side of yours, and while you involuntarily flinch, you don’t pull away. 

You sniffle and suck down tiny, quick breaths.

“Listen to my pulse, Love. C’mon, now.” His hand on the back of your skull twitches its fingers into small circles, the other pulling you farther up. “I know you like me being quiet,” he jokes, but still serious. “So I’ll save you the trouble of focusing on my voice. Right there in my neck…you feel it?”

You shiver, face on fire. Silently, you do as he says. 

You listen for it, his pulse, searching as you focus on just that. Not the man and his arms, not the squish of his chest or how you feel so warm by the strength in his biceps, but by the way it calms you. Searching. Being in control of yourself. 

You find those rapid beats after a moment, eyes tight closed and lungs heaving. The grass sways around your forms and Gaz swallows the saliva in his throat to ease himself further. His eyes close, taking a deep breath that you missed in your study of his blood. 

The stubble on his cheeks itches your scalp.

“That’s it,” Kyle whispers, sensing your breath slowing. The tension gradually slipped away. “There we are, you’re doing great.” 

When all is said and done, you’re limp in his grip, forehead on his shoulder, and Kyle’s chin atop your head. The breeze is slow like a sigh and overhead the sounds of kingfishers and the swans that live near the pond gradually return in the silence broken only by far-separated inhales. 

You blaze with a special type of shame for this, but you’re too tired to try and move. So, so, tired. Staying there, you let his grip keep you up, eyes stuck in the dark grip of his compression shirt as you don’t think—don’t fight it. 

It pained you to realize, but your mother’s hug dulled in comparison to this. 

Kyle confines you to his body, his lungs pushing his chest into yours, hands unyielding and steady; with that pulse still in your ear you sense the way he really feels, heart fluttering still rapid. Atop your head the chin, not digging into your scalp but instead turning in such a way as to follow the curve of your skull as if an eagle’s beak pulling at her mate’s form. 

His nose releases a slow sigh. 

“I’ll be here as long as you need me,” Gaz mutters. “Just say the word, yeah?”

The comments bring a bitter bite to your eye—another sting—but you keep it at bay. You have to. The hitch in your breath gives enough away, though.

“You can cry, Spitfire.” You shake once more, a deadly shiver running the length of your spine which the man rubs up and down. “You can cry in front of me. Hell, bloody cry whenever you want.” Kyle hums in his throat. “You’ve earned it. Fuck, you’ve earned it.”

The second round of tears is far more subdued than the first—quiet gasps and weak limbs. It only makes your head pound worse, the onset headache promising to be a big one. This one was reactionary; instinctual. 

It just…had to happen. 

And Gaz is there through all of it. He doesn’t pack up a bag and leave the country, he doesn’t pretend like it’s not happening—he stays. It is both something that makes you grow a new sense of him, and ends up pushing the knife deeper. 

Out of everyone, it just had to be him, didn’t it?

Voice raspy, crackling more than dry bark, you speak as your grip on his shirt lessons.

“Spitfire?” Kyle stills, releasing a tiny breath of relief that you seemed to be calming down for good this time.

“Yeah,” he clears his throat lightly, glancing down at you under him. “Guessed it would fit…Ma’am doesn't have quite the ring to it, eh?” 

Against the current situation, you force out a soft chuff. 

“...You good with it, then?” Your brain is mush, and Gaz seems to pick up on it. “We’ll, uh, we’ll get back to it, Love. Let’s get you inside.”

He makes a motion to pull away but in a display that no one foresaw, your arms constrict like a vice around him. 

Gaz freezes, feeling the hidden strength in your quivering limbs and how your face is hiding itself away even more fervently. You’re too embarrassed to look, to say anything. 

But he was so warm, and his hands felt nice; just like they had room, or even when they had pressed to your mouth in the back alley when this all started. 

Kind.

God, his hands were kind.

Kyle blinks in the darkness, the encompassing willow trees acting as a silent sentinel to this phenomenon. “Okay,” he says, low-like. When your grip doesn’t ease, he reassures, “I’m staying, Spitfire.”

You go limp once more, a shuddering sigh ripping out of your mouth. Gaz has to stay a twitch of his lips, a soft look spreading into his eyes as he huffs. Inside, he grasps for that small string of hope and pulls on it, wondering if this was when he walks back from the knife edge and can truly fix things. 

A relationship can only be mended by the two people involved in it. If you could call this anything more than a dependency, that is.

“I should never have said what I did,” Kyle relays, knowing it was his time to reach out. You listen silently, drained. “A…at least not the way I said it. You didn’t deserve that, and I’m sorry, too. Lost my temper.” He chuckles after a moment. “Didn’t think you’d be able to do that to me, honestly.” 

In a second of contemplation, Gaz moves his head back and brings his hands up to your cheeks, shifting your face back from his shoulder entirely soaked and soggy. 

“I’m sorry.” He says it with no intention of making you look into his eyes, but the action itself makes it seem sincere and honest. Your red-veined eyes stay at his neck, gazing at his bobbing Adam’s apple. “I need you to know that I mean it.” 

Kyle’s thumbs go and swipe the tear tracks, spreading them away with firm attention. He spares a small chuckle. 

“I’ll be honest, I felt like a proper arse after all of that. I don’t like yelling when I don’t have to.” He sighs. “Certainly not at you. Not after everything.”

You let him grab at his shirt sleeve and mutter a small, “Here,” pressing the fabric along your chin to catch the last drops. Silent, you just blink. 

Kyle’s concern peeks back in. 

“...Nothing to say, Spitfire? Makin’ me nervous.” Face only holding blood and no longer tears, you shrug blankly after a moment. 

“Don’t have anything to tell,” you utter weakly, licking your lips as Gaz’s hands fall lightly away—one on the other side of your hip and the other near his. You itch at your neck slowly. “M’tired.” 

“No shame in it,” the Sergeant whispers, eyelids half-tilted. “You want to go in now, Love?” 

Again, you only shrug, looking into Gaz’s chest with eyes far away. Already the internal walls were trying to build themselves back up; capitalize on the silence to spread poison-coated oil in the moat—light an angry fire with flame-coated arrows. 

You feel utterly alone.

Kyle stays silent as you close your eyes and listen to the trees speak to each other, those little birds on the breeze dancing with wingbeats. Your father would take you out here often, not to impart his unending wisdom like some old man, but just to listen. Listen to nature; the simple parts of everyday life removed from the expectations and pressure. 

Water, the ruffling of feathers, and the trees.

My Little Love. 

But he wasn’t a good man.

“I found a USB,” you open your eyes, locking eyes with Gaz and telling yourself not to flinch backward. He blinks at you twice in surprise, body stilling as he looks back. 

Those browns and ambers melt into a concoction of memory—flecks of green tiny and barely noticeable from a large distance; but you two were relatively close at the moment. Your lungs go tight, fingers twitching as you wrap the limbs around your waist loosely. Kyle watches with apprehension, eyes flicking away for a moment at the weight behind this. 

“Say again?” He asks, gaze traveling back slowly only to see you still waiting to meet his eyes. The man holds it this time, clearing his throat against the hitch in his breath. “Are you sure you’re alright—”

“I kept it in my jacket pocket when you took the journal and the laptop.” You interrupt, eyes darting away quickly to look over his shoulder before the panic you feel in your gut spreads to your brain. “I don’t care, I can’t figure out the password—I’ll…I’ll just give it to you when I get back inside.”

There’s a black flash across the pond and as you lock onto the stray cat’s form, those silent paws padding to the water’s edge, Kyle gapes at you; jaw loose as he misses it. Yet the animal doesn't get water, doesn't even stoop down. It watches.

Silent, no hissing. 

Eyes like forests blink, a tail flicks, its head tilted, and then it turns and disappears back into the bushes like it was never there in the first place.

Kyle gets over his shocked confusion at your sudden willingness to confess to him.

“I…I’ll look into that,” he itches at his scarred cheek. “Thank you.” 

You scoff tinily, without venom. If you were a snake, he’d have said you had your fangs cut out. It’s pathetic, you know, how eagerly you want to get this off your chest—all of it. So you don’t stop. 

“Hector was just about the only person who was there for me after Dad…” You lick your lips. “You know. He…he made it better, or, at least, he tried to. I know you think that I’m overreacting to this, but—”

“Negative,” Kyle whispered, body loose and giving you his full attention. “I wouldn’t say that. Wouldn’t even think it.” 

“Then I guess you’d be the only one.” Your hand runs up and down your face, rubbing away the invisible blood. You mumble through flesh. “I shouldn’t be talking to you, Kyle.”

He huffs and tilts his head. “I’m not a bad listener, y’know? Talk all you want, if it bothered me, I’d tell you.” 

“It’s not about it bothering you.” Falling back into the usual bickering, you have to internally reel yourself back in. 

His body heat grounds you—latches on like hands. So starved for affection, all it had taken was one damn hug to entirely break you open like a cardboard castle; tears shed, and whispered words. 

How weak were you? 

Kyle hums, seeing the inner conflict. He could taste it on his tongue. 

“Go on,” he utters, accent lacing the words with patience. You shiver and drop your hands. 

Very.

“He,” your throat closes. “After the first year, I needed something to latch onto—some semblance of normal life. Hector was a constant face, one that was open and kind to me. Hell,” you look to the side, gritting your teeth weakly. “He gave me free food for weeks when he realized I wasn’t even eating anymore. Distracted me from falling back into a hole again. And to find out that after everything, he wasn’t not only doing it because he wanted to….but that my mother knew the entire time and…and,” you strangle down a whimper, the next sentence breathless with utter pain. 

“She didn’t even come back?” 

Kyle’s eyes break, lips pulling tight, before looking down. How many people were going to fail you, he asked himself. Him included.

The soldier thinks back to that small room and your terrified eyes—the blood and the boom of the rifle fired by Row from the corner. No definitive answers, a suicide, and names that led to nowhere. 

Everyone who had ever claimed to love you had stabbed you in the heart over and over again, and in that act, you’d decided to rip those blades out yourself and wield them like a shield. 

“When’s the last time you had a break, Love?” He speaks softly, gazing over your face and strangling down his anger at the people in your life—at the mansion itself; an entire metaphor for everything down to the closed curtains and the dusty corners. 

You blink back to the Brit’s neck, clenching and unclenching your fingers, eyes unfocused. 

“I mean a real one. Took off of Uni, just…forgot about all of it?” 

“If I didn't have college to focus on,” you confess, shaking your head. “I don’t even think I’d be…” 

As you trail, Kyle takes in a sharp breath with his heart jerking to a halt inside of his chest. 

After a moment of his digging eyes, he whispers, strained, “It’s okay. I understand.” 

“Yeah,” your body shifts, pushing past the topic quickly. “Yeah. Good.” 

The silence falls again, but there’s a different air to this one. Kyle doesn’t look away, not for a long, long time. 

“Why did you do it?” The words sneak out of your lips, face twisted up. “Please, Kyle.” You lightly shake your head from side to side, defeated down to your marrow. “All I’m asking you is why.” 

The Brit grits his teeth, glaring at the ground at his side. 

Why? How could he answer that? Nothing he says would bring you comfort—make this make sense. None of this made sense. 

But he can’t not answer you. 

Call him weak for that, not as durable as he thought he was, but you’re suffering—mind a mess of barbed wire and dark phantoms. There’s a weight on your shoulders that he can feel, had been feeling. For all of his opinions on your attitude, you didn’t deserve to live like this—that much was obvious. 

It was not in his nature to be needlessly cruel. 

Kyle stares at your shoulder as he answers, you, in turn, let your eyes slip the tightness of his face; near to one another in a way you’d both never believed you’d experience. 

“I don’t know,” Gaz admits with a single tilt of his chin your way as if to apologize. “Pressure. Duty. That’s all shite, I know, but…but I thought I was going down the only path available. It’s not a bloody excuse.” The man speaks earnestly, without faltering. “He was never supposed to die, Love. Never. That doesn’t make it better, but it’s the truth. You were never supposed to see that, and everything that’s gone on, I share the blame in. And that’s something I’ll take to my damn grave regretting every chance I’m able.” He closes his mouth for a moment, and carefully he shifts to grasp your arm. When you don’t move away, he ends with utter conviction. “None of this is your fault. None.”

You take a large shaky breath, mind a mess of information. But you feel lighter than you had in ages. Glancing quickly down at Kyle’s hand, you blink at it. The Sergeant squeezes once and lets go without a word. His cheeks heat before he clears his throat, going to rub a hand at the base of his neck and spare an awkward chuckle. 

“But, uh,” two pairs of eyes flitter away from each other's bodies. “Regardless, Love, you really do have a habit of making a man regret his actions.”

That gets a thin smirk flicking your lips. “It’s a lifestyle, Garrick.” 

Flexing your still bandaged hand, you lightly flinch at the ripped stitches; the old wrappings at this point entirely soiled. Gaz notices from his side-eye, fully looking down to make a noise in the back of his throat as the willows sway. 

“Let me see, then.” You huff, trying to shimmy away.

“It’s fine.” He deadpans at you, hand by your hip not letting up.

“You think I haven’t noticed you haven’t spoken to me about re-binding it? C’mon, Spitfire, I just thought you were taking care of it.” He smirks. “Then I remembered you’re more stubborn than a damn mule.” 

You glare at his chest and half-heartedly roll your eyes, unwilling to argue. That thought alone is like a strike of lightning. 

“Only one mule?” 

“Hm,” Gaz reaches and lightly grabs your hand, turning it over and picking at the binding. It unravels easily. “You’re right. Make that three, actually. Throw in a nasty habit of being selectively deaf and it’ll be you to a point.”

You slap his shoulder with your free hand and he slightly banks away, chuckling, with his spine hunching in. 

“Easy now, Girl!” You slap him two more times for good measure, a tiny giggle slipping past your lips as he jostles away with a wide smile. 

But it’s natural, surprising, how simply the laugh comes out right after. Maybe it’s the utter exhaustion that finally lets it out from the cages you’d kept it in—a sleeping jailor at the iron door.

You bend carefully forward, as Gaz’s hand holds yours, lungs pushing through the fog of the forest that was once sprouting in them to release little laughs into the air.

“I hate you, Kyle Garrick,” your lips utter as he pulls back the last of the wrappings and looks at the damage you’d caused to yourself, taking the skin and swiping a finger over the old blood to watch it flick away.

He chuckles and smirks, raising a brow. “I know, Spitfire.”

“That nickname staying?”

“Bet your bloody arse it is.” He’s smiling. You’re smiling. Or maybe he’s only doing it because you are. “No one fits it better.”

TAGS:

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[hanlimz]

[hanlimz's 200 event!: sunghoon + 3 (hugs) and 14 (kisses)]

synopsis: forbidden relationship, dangerous consequences, and tender love. / for my love @nyxvrse <3 mwah love u sm ! hope u enjoy~ pairing: knight!y/n x prince!sunghoon genre/warnings: fluff, angst if you squint / some mention of death (no one dies tho), poor historically accurate dialogue ㅠㅠ, maybe ooc sunghoon (?), idk a descriptive kiss? wc: ~1.7k (OOPS LOL) a/n: why is it always Not my biases that i write the longest fic for ? like? my hee fic is staring at me with over 6k words rn n my need to write for sunjaywon is off the CHARTS but my brain won't let me LMAO ㅠㅠ / anyways, this is a part of my 200 followers event! feel free to request!

sunghoon is urging you forward with a solid hand encircling your wrist. his touch tethers you to reality, and the clarity you experience in his presence is addicting; colors are more vibrant, every new rush of adrenaline echoes throughout your entire body, and the crisp, morning air burns as it finds its way down to your lungs. sunghoon's fingers press into your flesh in the same way he has been etched into your heart. as you run, dewdrops bead on the worn leather of your work boots—the remnants of the night's storm having not yet been victim to the summer sun. the loose fitting linen of sunghoon's casual attire ripples in the breeze, and you find yourself mesmerized by it. mesmerized by him.

under the canopy of a large willow tree, sunghoon stops. his breathing is heavy and labored, and he has to lean against the damp bark of the tree to chase after it. still entranced by his natural beauty and hidden away from the rest of the world by the billowing branches, you take a hesitant step closer to sunghoon; he glances up at you and allows a hint of mischief to swim in his gaze. even through his fatigue, his lips manage to quirk up at the corners, and his grin sends a wave of heat flowing over your body. however, his playfulness and your susceptibility are both dangerous. there are rules to follow, and there are consequences for breaking them. fraternizing outside of kingdom-sanctioned duties is strictly forbidden, and a mistake could cost you your life.

a knight is never meant to fall in love with royalty, and you are no exception.

as sunghoon skirts his hand to rest at the taper of your waist, he bunches the fabric of your training blouse betwixt his slender fingers and tugs you into his lean frame. the tip of his nose brushes against the side of yours, and his mouth ghosts over your cupid's bow. prince sunghoon is poised, graceful, and positively hypnotizing. like the pied piper, his song has enchanted your very being; he's taken your heart in his hands and flipped your world of order and rigidity on its head. however, a phantom of doubt haunts your thoughts, forcing you to pull away and leave him wanting.

"your majesty—"

"please, [y/n] ... i've told you how i want you to address me—how much i loathe that ridiculous title escaping your lips," he cuts you off, reaching up to cup your cheek. the warmth of his hand blossoms against your face, and you like to think that the lines of his palms foretell stories of a shared future, a joint destiny. "call me by my name."

"sunghoon ..." you protest in spite of his seemingly magnetic pull, "you know the punishment for this is severe. if we're found out here, together ... it would spell danger for the both of us."

he simpers, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, "well, it's good that i have you to protect me, then. don't you agree?"

"you know that's not what i meant."

"i know," he replies, attempting to hold you infinitely closer. the tantalizing scent of jasmine and citrus mixes with the mint leaf he had been chewing on earlier, and you have to stop yourself from falling even deeper under his allure. "but, tell me then what i should do? what should i do when i'm in love with someone who i'm unable to love freely? tell me, [y/n]—what danger is greater than the threat of a life where i am left without you?"

sunghoon is greeted with an obtrusive silence. in the quiet, you can feel his beautifully deep eyes searching your face for any semblance of fear or reluctance. his calm seas of umber seep through the cracks in your stony facade like the natural stream that had made its way past the castle walls. when you glance up at him, the familiar hint of mischief in his gaze is replaced by two pools of sincerity and assurance. sunghoon's certainty frightens you; his willingness to pour out his heart and allow it to lay bare is enough to leave you dazed.

"you are who i want, [y/n]. you are who i need," he declares, pressing his forehead against yours. "in every life after this one—i know i will love you all the same."

his words are reminiscent of ice water cascading down the plains and valleys of your body. his love is a foreign concept to you, and the raw emotion in his voice is almost too much for you to handle. sunghoon's passion glows through his royal attire; it warms the tips of your fingers that had gone numb with nerves. hot tears welling up behind your eyes appear pearlescent as they catch the emerging sunlight. sunghoon has let you into his soul, and—by doing so—has taught your caged heart the intricacies of pure adoration.

desperate to feel him against you once more, you let your wet eyelashes ghost over the apples of his cheeks. "i'm taken by you, prince sunghoon," you whisper, "you're like nothing i've ever had the pleasure of indulging in before ... soft skin, kind heart, gentle hands. every part of me is rough—jagged and sharp." as you inhale, sunghoon records the bridge of your nose under the pad of his thumb. a fond smile graces his delicately charming features, and you find yourself compelled to tell him the truth.

"i don't want to hurt you, sunghoon," you confess, attempting to ignore the urge to succumb to the methodical swipe of his fingers against your cheekbone. "i want to be able to be tender with you—to cook dinner with you, to hang your laundry next to mine on the line, to call for you when the sun sets so we could watch it side by side. i want to hold you in my arms and keep you in my heart, but i'm afraid of what my love might look like—what it might do to you."

sunghoon is still smiling after you finish; his hands are still mapping the way your body feels beneath them, and the unadulterated devotion in his eyes has yet to waver. "you won't hurt me, [y/n]," he says, a fiery gleam of determination blazing in his gaze. "you could never hurt me."

"how can you be so sure, sunghoon?"

"because, i know you," he says, simply.

"you know me?" you reply, unconvinced.

"i know the way you love, [y/n]," sunghoon urges. "i saw you scrub floorboards and mop the marble when my sister's lady in waiting had fallen ill. i watch when you go into town to play quoits with the children. i know you sneak some of your leftover dinner for mister kwon when he works late nights in the marker. and, i've woken up to see your head resting on your folded arms at the foot of my bed more times than i'm able to count." he chuckles and glances at the grass, "you're already tender and soft and sweet, and i find it absurd that you don't believe so yourself."

blood boils under your cheeks, "well, those were—"

"let me show you," sunghoon proposes, and you're thrown off by the severity of his tone. leaning in, he brings his mouth to brush over yours, "will you let me show you how tender you are?"

air is punched from your lungs with the weight of his question. you know exactly what his words imply, you are all too familiar with the peril that lurks deep beneath them. darkness looms over you; it overtakes your vision for a moment as you consider the conflicting emotions warring within, but sunghoon is patient. each of his movements reflects the slow ascent of the sun in the late morning sky; he coaxes you from your cocoon to bask in his light, bathed in all of the warmth he knows you deserve. it feels good. it feels like silken bedclothes and summer fruit and muffled laughter. it feels right.

"show me," you murmur.

and within seconds, sunghoon is kissing you.

it begins like two feathers tickling your lips; in this manner, his mellow nature is not lost on you. his hands are star-crossed spirits dancing up and down the length of your torso. sunghoon lingers everywhere he can reach, committing the way your body thrums in his palms to memory. though, like a series of symphonic movements, a newfound vigor awakens in him; greed and hunger flow together with all the love he has for you, and sunghoon charges forward. he hums into your mouth as his fingers curl into the stifling cotton of your day clothes. you push back, splaying a fervent hand across the expanse of his neck and pulling the hair at the nape of his neck. stumbling in a wonderfully disordered waltz and swaying like the branches above your heads, the two of you kiss until you run out of breath to share.

when you pull away, sunghoon starts to laugh. the sound is rich and full, a resurgent melody before the conclusion of a piece. inhaling proves to be difficult as the both of you recover from going without oxygen for so long, but you deem it trivial. your heaving chest, your pounding heart, your trembling legs—they make you feel like more than just a cog in the kingdom's machine. they make you feel human. they make you feel alive.

pressing your forehead to sunghoon's, your labored breaths mingle once more. "i'm taken by you, prince sunghoon," you say again.

his amusement turns boyish, and sunghoon cannot contain the bout of giggles that escape from past his lips. in a flash, his grip tightens at your waist; slender fingers dig into your flesh, and you almost yelp until the surprise melts away. in sunghoon's arms, you experience flight for the first time in your life. he turns with you in his hold, various hues and shapes bleed together as the world is likened to a watercolor painting, and you swear a pair of wings sprouts from between your shoulder blades. they seem remain even as your feet touch the ground, manifesting in the form of your heart fluttering with untamed freedom and fierce love.

"and i, you, [y/n]." sunghoon replies, "my knight in cotton armor."

you chuckle at his silly response, and in this moment, the world seems incredibly small. enamored with one another, two dewdrops meet at the conclave of their respective blades of grass. joining together, indulging in the quiet, becoming one beneath the decades old willow tree—they have not yet fallen victim to the summer sun, and it feels good. it feels right.

[sailorgoon13]

Poppy Sweeting

Basics:

Full Name: Poppy Eloise Sweeting

Nickname: Pop

Gender: Female

Date of Birth: 12 September, 1874

Heritage: English

Blood Status: Pure Blood

Wand: Willow, Unicorn Hair, 10 3/4, Slightly Yielding

Appearance:

Hair Color: Short brown hair styled in a playful bob

Eye Color: Warm brown

Skin Tone: Light-colored skin with a healthy glow

Height: 5'5"

Body Type: Fit and agile, slender and athletic

Style: Gentle, cottage-core, favoring pieces of warmth and comfort in hues of sunlit meadows. Soft fabrics and cozy knits, opting for tones of yellows, browns, and oranges. Her wardrobe is a collection of pieces infused with rustic charm, from flowy dresses with delicate floral patterns to oversized sweaters paired with worn-in trousers.

Features: Expressive eyes, hair naturally has auburn undertones, gentle smile, bright aura

Personality:

Traits: Compassionate, Optimistic, Nurturing, Resilient

Likes: Magical Creatures, Exploring, Reading, Tea Time, Art, Quiet moments

Dislikes: Poaching/ exploiting creatures, Animal cruelty, Destruction, Disrespect for nature

Hobbies: Painting, Sketching creatures, Star Gazing, Herbology

Fears: Losing a loved one, Dark Magic, Her parents finding her

Family and Friends:

Father: Angus Sweeting

Poacher

Dark Wizard

Mother: Violet Sweeting

Poacher

Dark Witch

Friends: Samantha Dale, Lenora Everleigh, Adelaide Oakes, Highwing

Magic:

Special Abilities: Highly adaptable, Charms mastery, natural affinity for communicating with magical creatures

Boggart: Her parents

Patronus: Dragonfly

Polyjuice: Would have an earthy hue and subtle swirls of golden and amber tones. Smell like lavender, chamomile, and mint and would intertwine with hints of honey and vanilla. Taste like a warm, herbal tea infused with hints of citrus, honey and spice.

Amortentia: Sweet honey, Vanilla, Oranges, Cedar wood and Cinnamon

Backstory:

Poppy Sweeting's early years were marked by hardship and adversity. Born to Angus and Violet Sweeting, a couple of poachers who illegally hunted and traded magical creatures, Poppy was raised in the harsh environment of poacher camps, constantly on the move and unable to find stability or belonging in her parents' lifestyle. Despite their efforts to instill their values in her, Poppy found herself increasingly at odds with her parents' cruel treatment of magical creatures.

Amidst the chaos of her upbringing, Poppy found solace in the company of her grandmother, a kind and gentle soul who conducted research on magical creatures without causing harm. It was her grandmother who nurtured Poppy's love for magical creatures and taught her the importance of compassion and empathy.

One fateful day, Poppy witnessed a Hippogriff being captured by poachers, prompting her to take a stand and rescue the creature. Fleeing with the Hippogriff, whom she named Highwing, Poppy sought refuge at her grandmother's house, finally finding a sense of belonging with the only family member she truly connected with.

At Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Poppy was sorted into Hufflepuff, finding kinship among fellow students who valued loyalty and kindness. However, she remained reserved and reclusive, preferring the company of magical creatures to that of her classmates.

It wasn't until her fifth year at Hogwarts that things began to change for Poppy. When she met Y/N, a new student with a bright smile and a kind heart, Poppy's world shifted. Y/N's friendship brought light and warmth into Poppy's life, helping her to open up and embrace the joys of friendship and camaraderie.

With Y/N by her side, Poppy's days grew brighter and happier. Together, they explored the grounds of Hogwarts, cared for magical creatures, and stood up against injustice. Through their friendship, Poppy discovered a newfound sense of courage and purpose, realizing that she was never truly alone as long as she had friends who cared for her.

Academics:

Best Subject: Herbology

Favorite Subject: Care for Magical Creatures

Favorite Professor: Garlick

Worst Subject: Ancient Runes

Least Favorite Subject: Divination

Least Favorite Professor: Sharp

Student Life:

As a Hufflepuff, she values hard work, loyalty, and kindness, striving to excel in her classes while also finding time to pursue her passion for magical creatures.

Attentive and diligent, eager to absorb as much as she can about the magical world and its wonders

Excels in subjects like Herbology, Care of Magical Creatures, and Charms

Can often be found in the Hogwarts greenhouse

Enjoys exploring the grounds of Hogwarts

Template: @hazyange1s

[journalofanoldsoul]

Flower Power (Moon Edition)

In connection with my previous post on the language of flowers, I decided to offer you a list of associations between Moon signs and houses with flowers and plants:

Moon in Aries or 1st House: Red roses and cactus - Aries is a sign of courage, energy, and action, and red roses represent passion and courage, while cactus symbolizes resilience and survival. The 1st House is associated with the self and personal identity, and these flowers and plants reflect the strong and independent nature of Aries.

Moon in Taurus or 2nd House: Tulips and apple trees - Taurus is a sign of sensuality, luxury, and stability, and tulips represent abundance and beauty, while apple trees symbolize growth and prosperity. The 2nd House is associated with money, possessions, and values, and these flowers and plants reflect the material and aesthetic pleasures that Taurus enjoys.

Moon in Gemini or 3rd House: Lavender and ferns - Gemini is a sign of communication, curiosity, and versatility, and lavender represents clarity and adaptability, while ferns symbolize flexibility and growth. The 3rd House is associated with communication, learning, and siblings, and these flowers and plants reflect the intellectual and social nature of Gemini.

Moon in Cancer or 4th House: White lilies and willows - Cancer is a sign of emotions, empathy, and nurturing, and white lilies represent purity and motherhood, while willows symbolize sensitivity and intuition. The 4th House is associated with home, family, and roots, and these flowers and plants reflect the emotional and nurturing qualities of Cancer.

Moon in Leo or 5th House: Sunflowers and citrus trees - Leo is a sign of creativity, playfulness, and self-expression, and sunflowers represent vitality and self-confidence, while citrus trees symbolize joy and abundance. The 5th House is associated with creativity, children, and pleasure, and these flowers and plants reflect the fun-loving and expressive nature of Leo.

Moon in Virgo or 6th House: Daisies and herbs - Virgo is a sign of practicality, precision, and service, and daisies represent simplicity and purity, while herbs symbolize healing and nourishment. The 6th House is associated with work, health, and routines, and these flowers and plants reflect the practical and health-oriented nature of Virgo.

Moon in Libra or 7th House: Roses and ivy - Libra is a sign of harmony, beauty, and partnership, and roses represent love and beauty, while ivy symbolizes balance and stability. The 7th House is associated with relationships, balance, and justice, and these flowers and plants reflect the diplomatic and aesthetic nature of Libra.

Moon in Scorpio or 8th House: Black roses and blackthorn - Scorpio is a sign of intensity, passion, and transformation, and black roses represent mystery and hidden emotions, while blackthorn symbolizes protection and defense. The 8th House is associated with death, sex, and other people's money, and these flowers and plants reflect the deep and complex nature of Scorpio.

Moon in Sagittarius or 9th House: Daffodils and oak trees - Sagittarius is a sign of adventure, freedom, and optimism, and daffodils represent new beginnings and inspiration, while oak trees symbolize strength and endurance. The 9th House is associated with travel, education, and beliefs, and these flowers and plants reflect the adventurous and expansive nature of Sagittarius.

Moon in Capricorn or 10th House: Pansies and evergreens - Capricorn is a sign of ambition, discipline, and responsibility, and pansies represent loyalty and determination, while evergreens symbolize perseverance and resilience. The 10th House is associated with career, public image, and authority, and these flowers and plants reflect the disciplined and hard-working nature of Capricorn.

Moon in Aquarius or 11th House: Orchids and bamboo - Aquarius is a sign of innovation, independence, and idealism, and orchids represent uniqueness and individuality, while bamboo symbolizes adaptability and strength. The 11th House is associated with friendships, social networks, and aspirations, and these flowers and plants reflect the unconventional and visionary nature of Aquarius.

Moon in Pisces or 12th House: Lotus flowers and seaweed - Pisces is a sign of compassion, creativity, and spirituality, and lotus flowers represent purity and enlightenment, while seaweed symbolizes intuition and fluidity. The 12th House is associated with the unconscious, dreams, and spirituality, and these flowers and plants reflect the imaginative and intuitive nature of Pisces.

It's important to note that these are just some possible associations and that there are many other flowers and plants that could be associated with each Moon sign and house based on personal preferences and cultural associations. Additionally, some Moon sign and house combinations may resonate more with certain flowers and plants than others, so it's always good to follow your intuition and choose what feels right for you.

Stay tune for more astro posts…

xoxo

J.

[fdelopera]

Moon Knight thoughts for Sukkot...

this week is Sukkot ... and naturally, thoughts have turned to MK System, and their relationship to it.

Sukkot commemorates a time during the Jewish people's wandering, after our escape from Egypt... when we left Egypt, we wandered in the desert, and G-d told the Jewish people to build and live in sukkot, or temporary huts, to shelter from the elements.

(of course, the escape from "Egypt" commemorates the escape from any oppressive system, since the Exodus story isn't literal -- it's more a Jewish cultural memory of the late Bronze Age collapse. it also relates to the Jewish people's experience of enslavement and captivity in the 500s BCE during the Babylonian Exile, right before the Persian empire conquered Babylon and allowed the Jews to return to Jerusalem to build the 2nd Temple... but that's a whole other discussion...)

perhaps Marc would connect to the impermanence of the sukkah. it echoes his rootlessness, his wandering... after all, he escaped his own "Pharaoh" when he ran from his family's abuse... maybe he would draw a parallel to the (nearly) forty years that he has been trying to find a home...

Sukkot is also a harvest festival, and Jews collect four distinct species of vegetation, and put them together.

the species are an etrog (a yellow citrus fruit that looks like a giant lemon), as well as a palm branch, myrtle branches, and willow branches (the branches are all assembled together to create the lulav).

it's traditional to stand in the sukkah and shake the lulav and etrog together, and recite the blessing: Barukh atah Adonai Eloheinu melekh ha’olam asher kid’shanu b’mitzvotav v’tzivanu al netilat lulav.

well ... the etrog, palm, willow and myrtle each have many different meanings. you can learn more about their symbolism here.

but one of their meanings relates to the body.

specifically, the etrog relates to the heart/wisdom. also, the palm is the spine/uprightness. myrtle is the eyes/perception. and willow is the lips/speech.

but back to the etrog. the heart.

a thought came the other day, of Marc and Steven in the Duat, wrapping their hands around their heart as they finally start to communicate... as Marc recognizes their connection as their superpower... except, it's not a stone heart they're holding.

they're holding a yellow etrog.

it probably wasn't intentional ... but their heart even looks like an etrog in the "you're the only real superpower i ever had" scene.

and as they hold the etrog together, they're able to begin their personal Sh'mot -- their exodus from "Egypt" -- escaping the emotional chains of guilt and rage that have bound Marc to Khonshu.

Steven in this way feels similar to Moshe -- the unlikely, emergent leader who shows Marc that "Egypt" is holding him captive. the one who leads them out, away from that servitude.

now we just need Season 2 so that Jake, like Aaron, can let go of the false security of their old ways of protection, and connect with Steven as he leads them to a more unified future...

[mangofresca]

detritus

“I dreamt that you died last night,” he said suddenly, and Romano half-turned, surprised at the admission, at the tonelessness of it, that emotionless void a chasm he almost fell into, tangible in its brusqueness. He’d been strange all day, oddly quiet and unsettlingly depressed, barely speaking to any of them, always one step behind Romano, with hands in clenched fists and a mouth set in a bitter frown, every inch the raging empire in collapse.

Somehow, Romano knew that his fingernails would leave dark crescents in his palms. He wondered if Spain even noticed the pain. He wondered if Spain even counted it as pain at all, considering all else he’d been through. All else he’d caused.

Romano blinked, floundered, mouth opening and closing around a voice he couldn’t seem to find, the air in his lungs leaden enough to stay with him, refusing to leave, heavy and cloying. Not that it matters, his mind supplied. Nothing you can say will change anything. He knows that.

Spain stared into the distance, skin illuminated in tangerine and fire beneath the radiant sky of sunset, eyes locked on a horizon they had walked beneath for decades, centuries, dancing around willowing orange trees and sleeping beneath midday haze. Romano wondered what Spain saw when he looked out at a landscape of memories turned antique with change. Romano wondered what Spain saw when he looked at him.

He didn’t say anything, only watched Spain stare into the rolling fields of a land Romano would never call his own.

“Y’know what the worst part is?” Spain’s voice was soft, feather-light and delicate, only just carried from bloodied lips to Romano’s ears through a breeze scented with citrus and perfidy. “When I woke up, I felt disappointed that it was just a dream.”

The air in Romano’s body felt poisonous, rancid, fetid with betrayal and hurt and a grief so profound it felt tangible, like a mass within his body that he could hold, mold, could wrap his fingers around and see the validation of his sorrow. Like he could hold it out to Spain as proof of his apology, words he could never say lost to the inevitability of the future, a timeline of events to which he could only play spectator.

Romano supposed he should be glad Spain hated him. Maybe at one point it meant he had been loved.

The setting sun lengthened their shadows, and Spain’s silhouette was touching his, melding them together into the way they used to be—one form, one being, a single heart beating between the two of them, held together by dewy tomatoes and freshly-made churros and the echoes of tarantella across the tiles of Spain’s floors.

Romano pushed away, gagging on the sour taste of nostalgia grown cold, of yearning for that which could only bite, could only hurt, made bitter and beautiful in its lack of reprieve, of sentimentalities honeyed with war-ravaged brutality. He heard, after a moment, the rustle of grass and the footfalls of steps behind him, and he stopped in surprise when scarred arms linked around his waist, when a chest pressed against his back, when a voice laced with sorrow and imperial madness danced the shell of his ear.

“I hope you and Venezito do well.”

Romano stared at him—his eyes were always green, so green, he noted distantly, vaguely, green and earnest and too fucking good at burning hot with hatred—before shaking him off, walking away, forcing more distance between them, the too-steep edge of a cliff neither of them were willing to cross.

Spain didn’t run after him this time. Romano couldn’t bring himself to feel disappointed.

[here-comes-the-bard]

tired cancelled full viper guides from my fav ffxiv content creator are out i feel like i'm about to be annoying about the ffxiv au again. shakes. vibrates violently. scuttles onto the ceiling. foams at the mouth. grrrrr

[kingspacebar]

If you ship your characters together who would it be?

I have a lot I love making gay people kiss eachother

My oc x My oc - Space x Gary [Married] - Furry!Space x Starbit [Dating] - Truffle x Yuzu [Friends w benefits] - Royalty x Yuzu x Truffle [Friends w benefits] - Angel x Fondue [Dating] - Miitopia!Truffle x Miitopia!Caramel - Miitopia!Truffle x Miitopia!Yuzu [friends w benefits] - Aster x Liam [friends w benefits] - Nova x Oreo [Dating] - Pastry x Puddle - Alex x James [dating] - King x Bunnie [dating] - Koa x Orion [dating] - Arc x Aki [dating] - Noah x Nathan [dating] - Citra x Phin [dating] - Blaze x Winter x Watt x Fae x Moss x Toxin x Alex x Skyler x Stell x Clay x Finn x Forest x Aura x Shadow x Spirit x Wyvern x Terra x Valor [yes thats an 18 character polycule] - Vortex x unnamed character - Ascii x Chip x Sparky [dating] - Kai x Rhoe [slowburn-- end up dating] - Choki x Chase [dating] - Trixy x unnamed character [dating] - Citrus x Grape x Mango [dating] - Aurora x Horizon [dating] - Joy x Selene - Buoy x Brine - Dew x Fizz [dating] - Sekai x Miracle [Dating] - Storm x Havoc [slowburn-- end up dating] - Solar Spirit x Golden Wing [slowburn-- end up dating] - Solar Saddle x Luna Pegasus [dating] - Lucie x Liane [dating] My oc x others oc - Bear x Starburst [dating] - Flop x Greenspell [dating] - Willow x Dawson [dating] - Stella x Red [dating]

My oc x cannon Space x any of my fictional significant others Lumi x Callie Splatoon [dating] Blaze Glaze x Rainbow Dash x Pinkie Pie [dating]

OK so I got to page 12 on my th and then realized i have like 57 more pages and this is already a lot lmao,, plus its mostly of the characters that I've posted about the most so these are the more main guys anyway.

If you want more details about any of these guys then let me knowww I am happy to provide more info... :3