#like I have this flowering jasmine that dropped all its flowers but is growing a new vine and I’m so stoked because I thought it was going

[megan-renee]

All of our houseplants are growing soooooooo beautifully im legit anxious they’re all gonna DIE this winter :/

[cinnaleaf]

ESSENCE OF US - CH 4: YOU, ME, US*

Please read responsibly. This fic will get hot and heavy as the story progresses, 18+ only MDNI | READ CH 3 HERE | MASTERLIST | READ CH 5 HERE

summary: a fleeting encounter with a mysterious Trent leaves you wondering if fate is playing a bigger match. your paths continue to cross in unexpected places as the fragrances around you mirror the growing tension between you. maybe it's just a coincidence..or maybe its destiny in the making.

warnings: extreme fluff, SMUT, unprotected sex, oral sex (male receiving), language, implied anxiety genre: fluff, angst, slow(ish) burn romance wc: ~6.5k a/n: y/n did a number on this man, he's enamored! i wanted to evoke every emotion with this one. hopefully it worked bc i had to dig deep in my feels for this.

You were already awake when Camille barged in, coffee in hand with a grin plastered across her face. The scent of jasmine filled the room from some flowers Trent sent earlier; the jasmine flower was woven intricately into the stems of a garden rose bouquet, curling through the air like a gentle reminder of him. It made your heart race every time you caught a whiff, butterflies enveloping your body as you tried to think of anything other than match day. “Okay mystery girl,” Camille announced as she plopped onto your couch without hesitation. “How are we feeling about being in WAG territory?” You groaned, throwing your head back against the couch cushion, “Ughhh, you’re not helping Camille. I’m not a WAG!” You took a sip of coffee, biting your lip as the feeling of uncertainty twisted around in your stomach. “I don't know if I'm ready for all of this. It's a lot.” Camille stood up, giving you her full attention, “Real talk, if you can survive running a business then you can survive this. You're the most capable person I know.”

You smiled nervously, “It's just...different. Everything is so intense. It's happening so fast.” Camille raised a brow, her curiosity growing. “Okay..I gotta know. How did this even start? You didn't tell me you knew him already!” You exhaled, setting your coffee aside as you explained the story in full detail, Camille's eyes widened in disbelief. “Your meet-cute with TAA happened on a train?? Why the fuck was he on a train?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “It was completely random..and then it took me so long to realize it was him. He said he just wants to be like everyone else.” Camille's jaw dropped, “So, he could have a private jet and he just... chooses to be on the train? That's kind of hot.” You rolled your eyes, but the nerves still lingered below the surface. “Yeah but..I just—I don't knowww. I feel like I'm getting swept up in it because it feels like a fairytale.”

Camille sat back down, leaning in as her expression softened with her trademark sass. “Y/N, you've bumped into this man three different times in two different countries. Sometimes you just gotta ride the wave. But…” she paused, raising a finger, “keep your head on straight, yeah? From what I know, Trent's great but he's still a baller at the end of the day.. so, no tripping head over heels immediately. Just see where it goes if that’s what you really want.” You smiled, still feeling the weight of the situation clinging to you. “Ugh, but what if it's too good to be true?” Camille shrugged, giving you a no nonsense look. “Maybe, maybe not. You can still see where it goes. Worst case scenario? You have some crazy stories you can use as inspiration for a new line. Best case? Liverpool’s most gorgeous WAG.”

The nerves in your stomach were hard to shake as you settled into your seat with Camille. The weight of Trent's name on your back felt heavier than you anticipated, it felt like there was a spotlight shining down on you. You didn't want Camille to catch on to that though.

“Okay Y/N..how are we feeling now?” Camille teased as she nudged your arm. You rolled your eyes, snorting “I'm not feeling anything right now. Just trying not to have a public meltdown.” 

She gave you a side eye as she laughed, “Stop being dramatic and just enjoy the match girl.”

Camille kept cracking jokes to try and soothe your nerves as the match started, it helped, but only for a moment. You felt a rush of excitement watching Trent on the pitch, it was like he was born to be out there. You tried so hard to focus on him and the game, but every time you caught someone glancing in your direction your nerves spiked again. You leaned toward Camille, keeping your voice low “Do you think anyone’s noticed?”

Camille scanned the crowd, looking around dramatically before turning back to you with a grin. “You're wearing his shirt..in the best section. But nah, you're blending in.” She winked, amused at your discomfort. You placed your focus back on Trent, watching him on the pitch as he sprinted across. Part of you wanted to shout and cheer him on, but the other part of you was still battling the fear of being seen, especially in his shirt. As if the universe decided to dial up the pressure, Trent glanced up into the stands, locking his eyes on yours as his familiar smile spread across his face and blew you a kiss. You tried to keep your cool, but the butterflies in your stomach were having none of it. Camille noticed immediately, nudging you excitedly. “Ooo Y/N, look at him! That's all for you!! We're getting a highlight reel moment right now.” You smiled, feeling a bit more confident as Trent's eyes caught yours before he turned back to the match.

But then the talking started. It was faint at first but grew louder as people stared between you, Camille, and the name on your back. Your heart began racing and you could feel the attention shift as if everyone was putting two and two together. Camille noticed your expression change immediately and swiftly leaned in, her voice low and firm. “Hey hey. Eyes on the pitch, not on them.” You swallowed, taking a deep breath as you tried to shift your focus back to the match, but the stares were hard to ignore. Camille nudged you again, pointing down toward the pitch. “Look at him. Don't let them get to your head. He wants you to be here. Remember that.”

You took another deep breath, trying to calm yourself down. She was right. You weren't here for anyone else, just Trent. You refocused on the pitch, feeling your nerves calm slightly. Camille, who was always the best at calming your anxiety leaned in and whispered “He's been looking at you so much. Just focus on that.” And with that, you found yourself slightly more relaxed as you watched Trent's presence on the field. At the end of the day, none of the cameras or whispers mattered. The only eyes you cared about were already on you.

When the whistle blew for halftime the crowd erupted into chatter and movement. You exhaled deeply, grateful for the break while Camille stretched dramatically next to you. “Okay, I'm getting a bev. Want anything?” Camille asked, already scanning around the crowd. “Just water,” you replied, glancing around nervously as fans moved about. 

“Water?? We’re at Anfield babe. You don’t want anything stronger?” Camille smirked, nudging you playfully. You laughed, shaking your head, “No thanks. I need to stay calm, not get buzzed.” Camille rolled her eyes, “Fine, water it is. Be right back.” As she disappeared into the crowd you leaned back into your seat, trying to focus on the positive energy surrounding you. The tension in your chest started to loosen but then you heard a conversation happening behind you.

“Isn’t that the girl who owns ‘Love Notes’?” a voice asked, which provoked your curiosity immediately. You froze, daring not to turn around but listening intently. “Oh my god, yeah! It is her,” a second voice chimed in. “I follow her on Insta, her brand is blowing up. Did you see the new collection she teased?” 

Your heart skipped a beat as your body stiffened, unsure of how to feel about being noticed so quickly in public.

“Yeah she's killing it. I’ve been dying to work with her” the first voice continued, “I was actually thinking about reaching out to see if she’d be down to collab for her next launch. She seems so sweet.”

A mix of pride and panic built in your chest. They didn’t seem to notice that they were talking loud enough for you to hear them. “She definitely has the ‘it’ factor, she’s gorgeous. But you know how it goes…one bad headline and it's over.” the second voice said casually, as if they were discussing the weather and not the career you worked your ass off for. Your heart sank as you took in their words.

“Especially if she’s really with Trent. That's all anyone will care about. The press is going to eat her alive, poor girl.”

Camille’s words from a couple of days before echoed in your mind. 

Don’t give them more fuel. Just be chill. But it felt like it was already too late for that. People were talking about you regardless, you were suddenly feeling overwhelmed, a spiral of panicked thoughts repeating in your mind. 

Is that really what’s going to happen? 

Camille returned, oblivious to your inner turmoil. “Here’s your water, Boring.” she teased, handing you a bottle before plopping back down in her seat. “Anything exciting happen?” You forced a smile, trying to push away the sudden stab of discomfort before staring blankly down at the pitch, “Nope, just enjoying the view.” But your mind was racing. The two girls behind you had planted a seed of doubt in your mind, one you just couldn't shake. You worked too hard to build your business from the ground up and the thought of being reduced to ‘Trent’s girlfriend’— if it ever even went that far, gnawed at you. You tried to shake it off and focus on the match, but your fears lingered like a heavy rain cloud. 

What if this really does change everything? What if this overshadows everything I’ve built?

When the second half started, the cheering of the crowd faded into the background as you mulled over the weight of the strangers’ words. You hated that it was affecting you so much, but you didn’t want to be reduced to another excerpt in Trent’s life. Camille noticed your silence and leaned in, “You okay?” she asked in a concerned voice. You nodded but you couldn't bring yourself to speak. Every time Trent touched the ball the crowd erupted and your heart pounded. There was no denying the connection with Trent, it was there from the very beginning, but this public life? 

It terrified you. 

Liverpool won but you barely registered it. The uncertainty that had been swirling around in your chest was a full storm, pulling you inside your head as you overanalyzed every little thing that had occurred since meeting Trent on the train. Your phone vibrated in your lap, thrusting you back into reality. 

T: Meet me by the side exit, we can head out.

You exhaled, grateful he understood how you felt about being in the spotlight. Despite having his life on display, he was growing increasingly mindful of your boundaries when it came to your personal life. 

On my way.

Camille nudged you playfully, noticing another shift in your mood when you looked at your phone. “Oop, is that your man?”

You nodded, speaking quietly, “Not my man yet..but yes. He wants to head out. I just don't want this to blow up.” Camille squeezed your arm in support, “Don't let it. Control the narrative. Go have fun, babe.” You appreciated her words but as you slipped through the crowd towards the exit, you started to wonder how long it would be before Trent's world came crashing directly into yours. You made your way through the corridor near the exit, spotting Trent leaning up against the wall with his hands shoved into his pockets. You admired how easy it was for him to look so good without trying, just being around him made you feel calm..and the view wasn’t bad either.

“You again?” he teased, looking up at you. “First it was the train, the café, Paris, now Anfield?” I'm starting to think you're stalking me.” You laughed as you rolled your eyes, playfully pushing your hand against his chest. “You can’t escape me now.” Trent chuckled as he pulled you closer. “Y’know..we did everything backwards. Random meets, sex..but we haven't had a proper first date.” You raised an eyebrow, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck, “And whose fault is that?” He smirked, leaning down slightly to meet your eye. “My fault for sure. But I'll fix that real soon.” You grinned, lightly massaging the back of his neck with your fingertips. “I'll hold you to that.” He gave you a quick peck on the lips, “Enjoy the match?” he asked, in a soft but curious voice. You bit your lip, hesitating for a moment before answering. “Yeah..it was fun. Parts of it anyway.” Trent pulled back slightly, his smile faltering. “Parts of it??” You sighed, glancing down at the ground before meeting his eyes. “Everything is moving so fast..people are talking. I just don’t want to lose myself in all this.” His expression softened as he gently cupped your chin, forcing you to look at him directly. “I get it Y/N. It’s a lot. But I won’t let that happen to you, you’ve worked too hard.” You smiled, leaning into his touch; his reassurance meant the world to you, but you still had some lingering doubts in the back of your mind. You took a deep breath, deciding it would probably be best to lighten the mood. 

“So…where are we going for our first date?” you teased, as you and Trent headed toward the car. He grinned, opening the car door for you, “I was thinking we could do a private cooking class. We could make something fancy..it’ll be just us and the chef. Lowkey..no pressure.” You slid into the passenger seat, raising a brow, “You? Cooking??” Trent laughed as he got into the driver's seat. “Don't doubt me! I have some skills..sorta. But that's what the chef is for. We can have fun, maybe a little competition.” You giggled, buckling your seatbelt. “Okay..but don't be mad when you lose.” He leaned over, kissing you quickly before starting the car. “Oh yeah? We'll see about that Y/N.” 

After arriving at Trent’s, he led you through his house, his hand resting on your back as you navigated the space before settling on the couch for a cuddle. The two of you had been lounging for hours, your feet resting in Trent’s lap. The TV hummed in the background with whatever show you decided to binge, but you really weren’t paying attention anymore. You stretched a bit, glancing at the time, and sighed. “I should probably go…” you said softly, trying to prepare yourself mentally but not really wanting to get up. “Gotta get back to work. I still have so much to do.”

Trent, who was absentmindedly running his fingers along your legs, smirked. “Or you could stay longer.” You laughed, but the way his hands were sliding up your leg made you feel a little dizzy. “I..I can't. I have to work.” He leaned forward, placing a kiss on your ankle “I'll go with you tomorrow. I’ll help,” he muttered. You laughed, rolling your eyes playfully. “You?? What are you going to do? Stand guard all day?”

“Maybe” he said with a grin. “Just teach me. Like how you’re learning my world, I want to learn yours.” Your heart rate increased as his kisses trailed higher, reaching your knee. 

“I can't think when you're doing that” you whined, trying to keep your composure but failing miserably. He knew exactly what he was doing and it was working. “Then don't think.” he whispered in a low and husky voice, making you thrum with need. You bit your lip, trying to stay focused. 

C'mon.. be strong. Don't let him distract you Y/N, you told yourself. 

His kisses moved to your neck, your mental strength quickly slipping away. Your body was reacting faster than your brain could keep up. “I really need to get going..” you managed to say, not really sounding convincing at all.

“Stay,” he suggested as his lips moved dangerously close to your ear. “Just stay the night and I'll take you back in the morning. I’ll wake us up.” You tried to focus on the reasonable part of your brain. The part that knew you had to get up early to meet deadlines, but Trent's lips found your neck again and your brain went foggy. “Trent..” you tried, though your voice betrayed you. “I can't just—”

“Why not?” he interrupted, moving his lips to your collarbone. “I'll go with you tomorrow. It'll be fine.” Your body started reacting before you could come up with a decent argument. His kisses were soft, so slow, and perfect with each one sending waves of heat to your core. All rational thoughts dissipating. “Y/N, you know you want to,” he whispered.

Oh, he was absolutely fucking right and that was the problem. 

Your heart was racing as his hand moved to cradle the back of your head, pulling you closer. You were rapidly losing the battle to keep it together. "I really..should..go," you barely managed to say, it sounded weak even to your own ears. You could barely breathe let alone think straight. “Stay with me tonight,” he whispered, voice full of promise. “I'll make it worth your while.” You let out a soft moan, barely able to hold it back as he kissed you deeper. Your thoughts of leaving were long gone, being drowned out by the feeling of being wanted, desired and completely out of control. 

“Okay..I’ll stay,” you managed to say in a faint whisper, but he heard it. He pulled you onto his lap swiftly, your legs straddling him. “Mmm good,” he murmured, his hands roaming your body as they reached for the hem of the shirt you were wearing. “You looked so fucking good in my shirt today. But I need it off now.” He lifted the shirt over your head, immediately moving to the clasp of your bra to unhook it. You giggled, running your hands up his chest as you began to roll your hips in a teasing motion. “Ride me, baby. I wanna see you move,” he whispered.

You bit your lip, rolling your hips against his lap as you began to feel him harden between your thighs. The sensation made you gasp and Trent let out a groan as his hands squeezed your hips. “Fuck, you feel so good already.” He lifted you up off his lap, pulling your bottoms and underwear off before removing his own. You shifted your hips, slowly lowering yourself onto his cock as he filled you completely. The feeling made both of you gasp as your hands tightened on his shoulders. You started to roll your hips in a slow, but teasing rhythm. Trent groaned as his fingers dug into your waist. 

“You like it when I ride you?” you asked, your voice breathy as you moved your hips with more urgency against him. “I fucking love it,” he mumbled as his head fell back against the couch. “You look–fuck..so fucking pretty on top of me Y/N.” His praise encouraged you to move your hips faster and harder as you rode him. Every roll of your hips sent waves of pleasure through you as your moans turned into desperate gasps. “Write your name on me baby,” Trent growled, his voice now strained as his hands tightened on your waist. “I wanna see you really fuck me.”

You laughed, not fully understanding what he meant. “My name?? Like this?” You started to spell your name with your hips, continuing to grind against him. “Yeahhh. Just..like..that.” he groaned, thrusting his cock up into you in a way that made you gasp loudly. “Look at you taking me so good baby.” Your laughter quickly turned into loud moans due to the intensity of his thrusts, each one driving you closer and closer to an orgasm. The passion between you two was off the charts. Every touch and sound pushed both of you closer to the pinnacle of ecstasy. 

“Oh my goddd. Trent...I can’t–” you gasped as your body began trembling, the tension inside of you snapping as you continued to ride through your orgasm despite your thighs burning from exhaustion. Trent groaned beneath you as he watched the way your body shook with pleasure. “Gonna make me cum moaning my name like that.” he grunted, his voice rough as he thrust into one last time, his cum spilling inside of you.

For a moment, you both stayed tangled in each other, still trembling from the intensity. You were breathless and slumped against his chest as the aftermath of your orgasm washed over you. Once you caught your breath, a wicked thought crossed your mind. Before Trent could fully recover, you slipped off his lap and kneeled between his legs as you parted his thighs. “What are—”

You silenced him with a kiss to his inner thigh, “Shhh.. just relax,” you whispered in a teasing voice. Trent's breath hitched as soon as he realized what you were about to do. His fingers tangled in your hair as his body tensed with anticipation. You licked a slow, deliberate path on his shaft, pausing as you reached a small, sensitive patch of skin just below his balls. You flicked your tongue there and his reaction was instant. “Oh fuckk—” Trent gasped, his hips jerking involuntarily as a deep groan escaped him. “Holy shit.” You smiled, loving the way he reacted to you. You licked that spot again, teasing him with enough pressure to make him squirm. His hands tightened in your hair as his head fell back against the couch. His body was trembling with each flick of your tongue, his moans filling the room as he let out a string of curses. 

“You're unreal,” he moaned in a strained voice. You continued your slow assault, your tongue tracing the sensitive line along the underside of his dick before swirling around the head. You looked up at him through your lashes as your lips curled into a wicked smile. You sucked gently on the tip before moving back down in a zigzag pattern with your tongue. Trent groaned loudly, his body shaking as his hips bucked toward your mouth. 

“Where the fuck did you learn that?” he gasped, his voice filled with disbelief and pleasure. You didn't answer him. Instead, you wrapped your lips around him fully and took him deeper, your tongue working in a rhythm that had him at your mercy. “Shit..keep going..please," he moaned as his grip on your hair tightened the harder you sucked. Your movements were purposeful and teasing. “Fuck. Baby, I'm gonna cum.” Hearing him moan like that spurred you on, and you hallowed out your cheeks to take him deeper; your tongue still tracing the sensitive spot beneath the head that had him trembling. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. I'm cumming baby,” Trent gasped as his body tensed beneath you. You didn't pull away, you kept his cock in your mouth as he spilled into you, his groans loud and raw as he came hard. You swallowed every last drop, your lips still wrapped around him as you continued to suck him gently through his aftershocks to savor the taste of him. Trent's body slumped against the couch, his chest heaving as he dragged a hand over his hair lazily. “What the fuck Y/N?” he muttered in disbelief. “You're something else.”

You grinned as you wiped the corner of your mouth, climbing back up next to him to nestle into his side. “I told you to relax.” Trent laughed, pulling you into his arms and giving you a deep kiss. “You're stuck with me now. I'm never letting you go.”

“Good.” you whispered against his lips. “I have more where that came from.”

After spending some extra time on the couch enraptured in the night's events, you glanced at your phone and your eyes widened. It was already 1AM, and as much as you loved spending time with Trent, you had to wake up in a few hours. You felt Trent shift underneath you, his fingers brushing over your back. He pressed a kiss to your shoulder and you knew he wasn't done just yet.

“Don't even start.” you stated, already knowing where this was headed. As much as you didn't want to admit it, you were tired after so many rounds. “What'd I do? I'm just enjoying my view.” Trent grinned as his hand traveled up your waist. You laughed as you nudged him playfully. “Well 'your view' is getting up to shower and go to bed.” He groaned, dramatically throwing his head against the couch. “You trying to run away from me now?” You rolled your eyes, standing up to make your way to the bathroom as he watched your every move. “I'm not running away. I just don't want to be all sweaty and gross.” He was already up and following you, “Damn. You're just gonna leave me out here like that..after all we've been through?” You shot an amused look at him over your shoulder, “Why are you being so dramatic?? It's just a shower.” 

Before you could say another word, he caught up to you and wrapped his arms around your waist. You turned to face him, your back pressed against the sink as you tried to hold back a laugh. “You're not going to let me shower in peace, huh?” Trent's hands moved to cup your chin as his lips brushed against yours in a teasing kiss. “Nah, not a chance,” he muttered before giving you proper, deep and slow kisses.

“Trent..” you murmured between kisses. “If you don't stop we're never going to get any sleep. It's really late.” He laughed, clearly not giving a fuck. “I'm not tired yet,” he teased before kissing you again, his tongue tracing the curve of your bottom lip. “We can stay up..” You pulled back a little, lightly pushing against his chest. “Nooo. I'm getting in the shower. Behave! Or get out.” Trent grinned as he stepped back to turn on the shower before looking over at you. “I'm definitely staying,” he said, with cheeky confidence.

Steam filled the bathroom as the water hit the tiles, and you slipped past him to get under the water. Trent followed close behind, his hands already finding their way to your waist as he pressed his naked body against yours from behind. “You're being so clingy” you teased as he leaned in to kiss your neck. “Can you blame me after you just took my soul like that?” You turned to face him, the water streaming between your bodies. “Don't make me regret inviting you in here.” His hands slipped down to your hips as he pressed you against the cool tile before finding your lips again. “Just making the most of our night.” The kiss deepened, his hands were everywhere. On your waist, your ass, tracing the curve of your back, pulling you close until there was absolutely no space left between you. When things started heating up again you laughed, breaking the kiss and pushing gently at him. “If you don't stop we’ll be in this shower all night.”

“Ah, okay okay. I'll be good then.” he said, though his hands were still cemented on you. 

Once you were both clean, you stepped out the shower. The bathroom was warm and steamy. Trent reached for a towel and wrapped it around you. His playful banter from earlier softened and was replaced by something more tender as he dabbed at your skin with the towel. He grabbed a bottle of lotion from the counter, squeezing some onto his hands. “Can't have my girl out here dry and ashy. C’mere.” You burst out laughing at his comment, “Hmm..'your' girl?” You gave him a teasing look, trying not to smile. “I don't remember you asking.”

He grinned up at you as he kneeled down, gently smoothing the lotion over your legs. “Ah, you're right. Guess we have to talk about that, huh?” You giggled, crossing your arms as you watched him work his way up. The way he focused on you made you feel things you weren't really expecting to feel. “I guess so. I'm not yours until you ask and you haven't asked.” He stood up, leaning in to press a quick kiss to your shoulder as the fresh scent of the lotion mixed with the leftover steam from the shower. “Got it. But I'm still not letting you be ashy. My girl or not.”

You burst out laughing again, the sound filling the bathroom as Trent gave you a fake offended look, as if lotioning you up was the most important task he'd ever done in his life. His hands moved deliberately as he massaged the lotion over the rest of your body, his fingers trailing lightly over your skin. “You're a mess but I'm kinda into it.” you said, feeling your heart melt at how sweet and tender he was being.

“Only for you Y/N.” Trent replied as he gave you a peck on the lips. He rummaged through a drawer before handing you an old, worn LFC shirt that smelled like him, and a pair of his boxers. “Put this on, you’ll sleep better.” You smiled as you slipped the oversized shirt over your head. He watched you as you pulled on his boxers, which sat low on your hip since they were too big. “Feeling better?” he asked.

“A little. But I'm sooo tired. I need sleep” you whined. He let out a dramatic sigh, pretending like he was annoyed. “All that effort and no cuddle? No reward? C'mon.” You laughed, pushing him lightly as you made your way to his bed. “You're cute, but I still have to work in the morning.” He followed you, still being needy as he wrapped his arms around you from behind, both of you settled in the bed. “Yeah, yeah. The shop,” he said in a soft murmur. He pulled the covers over you both. The way he held you close to him without making it feel like a big deal was so sweet. It felt natural and easy. “Goodnight,” you whispered as your eyes started to close.

Trent's voice was soft, “Goodnight, beautiful.”

You stirred awake the next morning as faint sunlight crept in through the blinds in Trent's room. You shifted slightly, feeling Trent's arm wrapped around your waist. It was comforting, but something felt too peaceful.

Too perfect. 

You opened your eyes, reaching for your phone on the bedside table. It was 9:37AM.

“Shit!” you exclaimed, sitting up quickly trying to wake yourself up fully. You smacked Trent on the chest. “Trent, get the fuck up! We're late!” He groaned, still partially asleep as he muttered something incoherent and tightened his arm around your waist, pulling you back down on the bed. “Gimme five minutes.”

“GET UP!” you yelled, pushing against him. “We're late, late! I have to open up and we're still at your house!” Trent slowly opened his eyes, his face scrunching in confusion before finally realizing what you said. “What time is it?”

“Past 9:30! I was supposed to be there by now, you were supposed to wake us up!” He laughed sleepily, rubbing his eyes as he sat up and stretched his arms. “Universe had other plans for us like always.” “Oh yeah? The universe wanted me to be late because you couldn't keep your hands off me last night?”

Trent swung his legs over the side of the bed, laughing. “Maybe so.” He stood up, his toned torso catching your attention before you snapped yourself out of it. “We're awake now though. Relax, we'll make it.”

“Relax?? A business can’t run itself!” you scoffed. You got up, hurrying to the bathroom as you tried to pull yourself together. Trent followed you, moving a lot slower than what was acceptable for how late you were. He leaned against the bathroom door, watching you with amusement as you tried to tame your hair. “You look fit in my clothes y’know.” You shot him a look. “We're not doing this right now Trent. I'm gonna be late forreal and it's your fault.”

“It was worth it though.”

You were annoyed at first but as you turned to face him, the annoyance faded when you looked at his satisfied smile. “Maybe..but I still have to get to work.”

Trent smirked, stepping closer as he wrapped his hands on your hips. “I'm sorry. Couldn't help myself.” You shook your head, leaning into him for a quick kiss. “You're lucky you're cute.” He deepened the kiss for a second, knowing it would annoy you before pulling away laughing. “Stoppp! I need to get ready,” you whined, gently swatting him away. “We need to stop by my place so I don't have to wear your boxers to work.”

“Boxers and all, you're still the hottest girl out there.” You grabbed your phone, beginning to head out the door. “Shut up and lets go!” The two of you bolted out of his house, Trent still pulling on a hoodie while you jogged to the car in his oversized shirt, his boxers fluttering around you as you tried to check the emails on your phone. Trent unlocked the car, you slid into the passenger seat muttering to yourself. “Oh my god how are we this late?” 

He shrugged, “The universe wanted us to sleep in.” 

You laughed, tossing your head back, “Will you shut up and drive?”

“I'm just saying!” he exclaimed, pulling onto the road. “Fate or whatever you wanna call it..that's why we're here aren't we? Maybe the world wants you to chill.”

You shot him a glare. “I'll 'chill' after I open up the store.” Trent turned up the music to something that matched the sunny morning as you glanced at him, a loving smile creeping up on your face. You couldn't deny the connection between the two of you. The sex was amazing but it wasn't just physical stuff. The ease you felt with him despite being the most anxious person ever, the laughs you shared, the way he made you feel like time was an illusion...that was something else.

But you had absolutely no time to be thinking about that right now. 

Zero.

Once you got back in town, you quickly stopped at your apartment and sprinted inside to polish yourself into something more presentable. When you finally arrived at Les Notes d'Amour you were running around, unlocking doors, turning on lights, and trying to remember every little detail you needed to put in place. Trent followed behind you lazily with his hands in his hoodie pockets, looking entirely too relaxed. “Need any help?”

You were still frantic as you glanced over your shoulder. “I think you've caused enough chaos the past twelve hours.” He laughed as he started to wander around the shop. “Just making your day more exciting.”

“Exciting? This is stressful.” you echoed, shooting an annoyed look at him. “It's different.”

You couldn't stay mad at him though, not with that beautiful face and dazzling smile of his. He looked like he was having the time of his life watching you scramble around the shop.

After things finally settled down, you leaned against the counter. Trent wandered, scanning the shelves of the different fragrances and oils. “So what's this new collection you're working on?” Trent picked up a small bottle, giving it a curious sniff. “Tell me about it again.” You shrugged, feeling a little deflated as you leaned on your elbows. “It's supposed to be about unexpected moments in life..like chance encounters. But I haven't figured out how to tie it all together.” Trent raised his eyebrow, coming to a realization. “Kinda like us, yeah?” You shot him a look but there was something in his eyes that made your heart feel like it may burst out of your chest. “Maybeee…”

He picked up a bottle, wafting it in the air. “What's this one?”

“That's bergamot,” you said, walking over to stand next to him. “It smells fresh. I was gonna use it to represent the first time we met.” Trent looked down at you, surprised. “The train?” You nodded, “Yeah..when you had on that ridiculous outfit.”

He grinned, looking into your eyes, making you feel butterflies. “Yeah, yeah. I remember.” Trent picked up another scent. “What about this one?”

“That's cardamom. From when we saw each other at the café.” He brought his hands up to your face, faintly tracing the outline of the cupid's bow on your lip with his thumb. “and Paris?”

You picked up two bottles, one pistachio, and the other ylang-ylang. “I thought these could represent Paris.” His expression softened as he leaned in to kiss you. 

“Paris was nice.”

“Yeah..it was,” you agreed, pressing your lips to his for a kiss. At that moment, it felt like a missing piece of you had just connected back to you. Trent pulled away from you slowly, “Y’know what's missing?”

“...What?”

He leaned in, his voice low. “An aftershave. Something for me.” You burst out laughing. “Are you being serious right now?” He shrugged, grinning from ear to ear. “Yeah..you said I need to step my game up. Let me be your muse or something.” You gave him a teasing look, "Oh, now you want to be helpful?”

“I'm just saying..I'll test it out. I’ll bring it to all my matches. Just for you.” You rolled your eyes, still laughing at him. “Maybe I will.”

The air between you thickened, not from the scents surrounding you, but from something far deeper. Something that was undeniably felt yet still unspoken. The quiet understanding that every moment you shared with Trent had woven itself into something you couldn't explain. You didn’t feel like you were even close to defining what the two of you were. Yet, the gravitational pull between you was so strong, so sincere. It wasn't just attraction or a coincidence, it was like the universe took these random moments and stitched them together. 

You looked at him, so calm and comfortable in your space, your world. His fingers brushed against a glass bottle with the same ease he carried with everything else. His presence wasn't loud or overwhelming. But it lingered, like the perfect note of a scent that stays with you after it fades from the air. It felt like you were both waiting for something you couldn't name. 

Love was just like that. 

Soft at first, barely noticeable. Like the first trace of a perfume in the air, you might even miss it if you weren't paying attention. But just like the notes of a carefully crafted scent...it settles into you. It deepens, wrapping itself around you until it becomes something you can't imagine being without. Love didn't need to be loud to be transformative. It didn't need grand gestures or declarations. Sometimes it simply shows up quietly, filling in spaces between words and moments. It changes you in ways you don't see coming. 

Every laugh, playful nudge, and quiet glance had woven into something deeper...even if neither of you had spoken it out loud yet. 

“I don't know how this happened,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you looked up at him. “It feels like—” 

He nodded, his hand brushing lightly against yours. “Like we weren't supposed to meet any other way.” It felt like fate had nudged you into each other's paths.

Every missed chance or twist of time was always meant to bring you..

Right here.

When love feels like magic, it's called destiny. When destiny has a sense of humor, it's Serendipity.

i think this may have dethroned ch 3 as my fav..feeling very lovey dovey atm 🕊️ if you made it this far, thank you for reading! feel free to share any thoughts in my inbox.

[themotherofblood]

chapter 4 | river of fire | d.t x reader x r.t

series masterlist | main masterlist | previously

a/n: so a major fuck up on my end, I had updated a chapter on ao3 but didn’t on tumblr so I wrote two chapter fives, that has been corrected to the time line. So sorry!

synopsis: the matter of visery’s marriage looms in the air when Daemon swoops in to cause more chaos and steals his late nephew’s egg

“The lanterns in the sky were beautiful, just two but against the dark sky they were everything. Rhaenyra will find peace, I pray she does, no matter how many burning hot baths and curt words she throws my way. She is there, angry and afraid. She is me at seven, I could hold her and tell her everything will be better I cannot. I can merely tell her that I shall love her always, I will be with her always.”

After many quarrels on Rhaenyra’s part, she had finally earned a seat on the Small Council and you have been tasked with a new job. The King’s Cupbearer. Most of the time you tried not to break into a fit of ill-concealed giggles if you met Nyra’s eyes. It was insightful for sure, you made Rhaenyra do your bidding once or twice, men for a clothing donation run and a few sanctions for diverse agricultural trades. You wanted jasmine seeds without spending nearly half of your pin money to do so.

Rhaenyra had been aloof for most of it, growing more defiant— it was adorable and yet concerning; she was dealing with her grief as best she could, for it had only been just more than half a year since Aemma passed. Though Daemon being dismissed from the court might have had a role in catalysing her loneliness, sure you were there, her love that she would kiss goodnight and unabashedly embrace at all hours of the day but perhaps only a dragon could understand a dragon.

“Why did you have to say it! Why!” Rhaenyra scolded Daemon. “You will be gone now too.”

“ The Heir for A Day. ” You oddly understood the humour behind it. You believed not that he had ill intentions when saying it so, but perhaps your admiration for him was so thick you couldn’t see past it.

Even Syrax grew petulant, refusing to hunt for herself, she grew fluffy around the edges but adorable nonetheless, she doesn’t waft her nostrils at you anymore. You would like to think the yellow dragon is friends with you now, however, you do not wish to stick your hand in its mouth to test out the theory.

The latest rumble, however, one only spoken without your or Rhaenyra’s presence was the matter of Viserys finding a new queen for himself. Barely half a year and attempts of forever shrouding Aemma already had set afoot, it is expected of him even with Rhaenyra as his heir, the prospect of a son would forever loom over the high towers of the Red Keep. The lords would like to believe that the lot of you were stupid enough to not realise but Nyra had already scoffed about the prospect of having a stepmother, she’d support her father but such warmth might never extend to her new mother.

“ What ?” You and Rhaenyra exclaim in unison, brows pulled as you drop your current activities to question your aunt, a sense of vile premonition crawled onto your skin as your eyes blew wide.

Oberya had been summoned by the Small Council along with Princess Rhaenys and Lord Corlys, all the women at court and they found it appropriate to paw around the home, though she suggested that the notion of marriage was brought upon by Lord Corlys to present his daughter’s hand in marriage to Viserys– poor Laena, but your name was dragged to the battlefield by Lord Lyonel to contest Otto Hightower’s complains of Laena’s age. Offering you, an auspicious and elder match, elder match by a year and un-flowered. You are but fresh thirteen, he is at least two decades older if not more. Another horrid chill shrivels down your back.

Beyond all that was said, you could feel Rhaenyra’s gaze bore holes in your face, she knew this day would come but not you, the thought so wildly macabre that the possibility hadn’t even graced her nightmares in the past five moons.

“And?” Rhaenyra asked, her voice sounding far more curt than she intended. You turned to her, widening your eyes at her tone towards your aunt, she shook her head still replying to an answer.

“The decision is up to you, they have written to Qoren but I doubt he’d say any differently.”

“No! I’m not marrying Viserys.” You say mildly repulsed, Hands flailing as you push your needlepoint patch away, a shrill shiver running down your spine.

“Then that’s that.” Rhaenyra sharply nodded, coming to sit next to you. Yanking your face towards her and pecking your lips, it wasn’t an affectionate gesture but one to seal your decision for good.

Oberya coughed, eyebrows raised “Still here, darlings.”

You smiled at her apologetically, “You are sure Qoren wouldn’t write otherwise?”

“Oh-“ she rolls her eyes “have some faith in your brother will you?” She scolds, finding your mistrust in him still unbecoming.

“And write to him, will you. It’s been months dærya,” she points out before turning to leave, shaking her head once again at Rhaenyra who was clinging to you like a milk-hungry babe.

You shook Rhaenyra off you, it was far too warm to have her clung to your back. Now all you could think of was Laena , Rhaenys would have thoroughly prepared her for this, you were trying to find some bright light within such a prospect but you couldn’t. Viserys was a wise king and a wonderful warden to you, but he was nothing like the knights in the books you and Laena shared, not by a far shot.

“How could they do this? To Laena.” You shook your head, sinking further into the chaise and resting your palms on your belly.

Such marriages weren’t unheard of but you had believed Lord Corlys to be more of the progressive sort. He never found differences between Laenor and Laena and raised them alike but to now thrust Laena up for the position to marry Viserys all for…power? Title?

“It is for Rhaenys,” Rhaenyra mumbles, “if not his wife then his blood.” She sounded bitter.

You frowned at her, sitting up to clasp her shoulder with the fire of heavy disagreement burning in your heart.

“You are his heir, you. Not some child he currently does not have. He wouldn’t choose another.”

“How it could be, duck.”

“Nyra?” You frown, this time climbing on top of her to make her look at you. “You are his heir.”

“He barely talks to me, you think I’m his heir?” She snaps, pushing you off her. She grunts. “Not once has my input held any weight in his court, you’re young, it isn’t your place. I am his heir as a stowaway. The day one of those wh— women birth him a son. I’d be nothing again.”

Therein lay the truth, the subject that had her irked so, you saw it in the folds of her frown but never understood it fully. Septa Marlow had hushed Rhaenyra thrice on the topic but couldn’t punish as she saw fit because Rhaenyra was now the heir. There never had been such strife about successions when it came to you, your brother inherited the seat while you were a pawn for political alliances, it made perfect sense but this, to be the only child in many dead.

“Have you spoken to him about this?” You calmly said, trying to ease her turmoil as you reach for her pacing frame.

“I would sooner die.”

You would have opened your mouth to say something incongruous, something that you were sure would do nothing to fix the situation but what were you to do. Sit here and let Rhaenyra drown in whatever turmoil was boiling within her? You were three and ten but many days you couldn’t see beyond the frivolities of court, the games— what games ? Beyond the simpering ladies, and the brooding knights, what games were there to play beyond blindly chasing each other in the courtyard.

Sona interrupted your line of thought as she approached with a tray of tea for the lot of you and a stash of letters in her hands, Enora too followed suit, eyeing Rhaenyra's sour look as she presented her with her letters.

“Would you know where Lady Laena is?” You asked Sona as she poured you tea, she looked to Enora and then stood straight.

“Promenading, princess.” She replied.

You perked up, looking at Rhaenyra with a performative smile “We could use one too, couldn’t we Nyra, pick some flowers— perhaps visit Syrax?”

“I— she is with the King, princess,” Enora added, making Rhaenyra turn to her and sharply place her stash of letters on the chaise.

“Leave us!” She barks, pacing even harder now.

You looked at them apologetically as you took the teapot from Sona’s hands. “Stay close please.” You whispered.

“What fortune, even if I wanted to hate her I cannot.” Rhaenyra rants, picking at her sleeves. “He will always be the king won’t he, always the king before my father.”

You sorrowfully nodded. “I’m here with you, I’ll always be your lady before anything.” You sheepishly smile.

Rhaenyra’s curt resolution cracks for a moment as her lips curl upwards, and she yet again flops down next to you.

“I love you,” she mumbles, words like honey, you blush, nodding before kissing her cheek. She sighs even harder before resting her head on your shoulder.

The matter of Viserys nuptials was still in the air, every time you’d make rounds filling cups of the men in his court, somebody would bring it up, it went on for an entire moon and you could see it weighing down on the King’s shoulders. He was so beyond the need to talk about it, he barely spoke when Nyra and you would take meals with him. You saw it as his vice but Nyra, it wedged a further divide between her and her father. Even Alicent believed otherwise when she would accompany you in the gardens or to the markets.

Somehow, perhaps that Alicent was older, she had far wiser words, once laced in her faith as she consoled Rhaenyra. Every word with meaning and understanding she was stitching the gashes within Rhaenyra, you were thankful for it— Nyra wasn’t so pouty anymore. Though sometimes you missed Alicent, you were sure with her growing up her father would have thrust more ladylike duties in her lap, she couldn’t join your expeditions in finding shiny bugs or artisan rocks anymore.

“Go on, say it.” Rhaenyra shakes you by the shoulders.

“She won’t listen.” You rebut, shaking your head and cowering behind Rhaenyra, still small enough to hide behind her shoulders, you peek through looking at Syrax eyeing the sheep.

“Oh come on, roll your tongue on the ‘r’ and command her.” She insists.

“ Dr — Rhaenyra I can’t.” You whine, looking at the poor sheep, it wasn’t even shaved. Does Syrax eat the wool too? That doesn’t sound appetising.

She turns to you, squishing your cheeks within her palms and boring her purple eyes into your soul. “She is hungry, now you say it. Or I will make you ride on her.”

“There is a dragon in you, uncle said it and I believe him.”

“Rhaenyra, I wasn’t even given an egg and my mother wanted nothing to do with them.” You huffed, reiterating again.

“But look how well you do around them!” Rhaenyra whines.

“Say it or we go riding— and I sleep alone tonight!”

Your eyes widen, horrified you turn to Syrax “ Dracarys .” You say quickly and meekly.

Syrax turns her giant head to her rider, unused to taking orders from anything small that wasn’t Rhaenyra, she nods to her mount. The yellow beast wastes no time and blasts dragon fire onto the sheep, the poor thing doesn’t even get a moment to bleat its end before it gets cooked, you pout at where the fluffy animal stood. Rest well, sheep.

Rhaenyra watched Syrax feast on her supper as you looked around the dark stone cave.

“Nyra?” You pull on her arm, “can I go see the baby dragons?”

She bothers not to look at you and nods, knowing you'll be safe in the hands of the Dragonkeepers. She looks to Oalth, a newly appointed, young dragon keeper and orders him to take you to the nursery.

You pad along behind him, following his glowing silhouette from the fire torch in his hand as he leads you to the nursery.

“Watch your step princess,” he cautions, holding your hand as you climb up the steep stone-carved steps.

The nursery is well lit, mostly for the comfort of the Dragonkeepers but also to not have any of the little hellions wiggle away from this part of the cave, a giant hearth is lit with many dragon eggs laying around its edges, eggs of gold, purple, red and blues. Some small and some big, all waiting to hatch one day in the cradle of their riders or perhaps in the glowing embers of the hearth, their magic swirling within the membranes of the egg, forever keeping them alive and warm.

This summer there had been eight dragons that hatched, without riders they almost never survive, and if they do they never stay here, choosing to live their lives as wild dragons at Dragonstone, or perhaps wherever their hearts pleased.

“Here they are,” Oalth huffs as he moves out of your way.

Four little dragons looked much like lizards curled against one another. Little rocks used as cushioning to rest their heavy tails upon. They looked frail, breakable to touch. Oalth broke into a smile, bending down to let a finger trace down the orange dragon’s tail, they roused flopping over to him, expecting food most likely.

“I thought there were six?” You pulled your skirts up to stop one from trotting itself under you.

He looked to you apologetically, the answer being only one. They didn’t survive .

“Who’s eggs?”

“Dreamfyre, her eggs hatch but rarely live past the year.”

You tut, letting the orange little guy climb up your arm, smiling at the little thing. Orange body with bright red membranes, you could see it in the green of its eyes, it was strong.

“She is a fighter,” Oalth muses, smiling at the dragon finding adventure in climbing your skirts.

“She? How can you tell?”

“Intuition, we won’t know until she is grown but she has the fury of a she-dragon.” He says, minding the other little dragons.

“Quba konīr iksis,” a dragon keeper pokes his head through the entrance, hissing at Oalth in Valyrian, a foreign song to your ears. Oalth’s shoulders immediately stiffen.

“Stay here, princess.” He cautions as he grabs his dragon glass spear, rushing behind the other keeper.

You frown at him leaving but return your attention to the little creature now sniffing your ear. You gently pick her up by pinching together her wings and dropping her onto your palm.

“You’re a girl huh? Of course, you are, look at you.” You whisper, watching her walk in circles in your palms and plop down. “No boy dragon is this pretty.”

Oalth was right, even in her frailty there was something about her, a will to fly, a twinkle of mischief in her eyes. Just like the one Rhaenyra has when she finds some way to bother Septa Marlow.

“You will live.” You tell her “Grow ginormous and el— elegant, eat sheep and fly as high as you want.”

“ Dracarys .” You smile at her, already envisioning her pale orange body to be a beacon of the Sun goddess once she is grown, whatever rider would claim her would surely be an eccentric embodiment of her.

A swift shuffle however tears you from your gaze for adoration, you flinch, turning your head over your shoulder and looking around the nursery to find the intruder.

And found you did.

There stood Daemon, a shabby cloak pulled down, his glowing silver hair much longer and his charming smirk greeting you.

“Playing with fire, are you, little viper?” He asks with a smug grin on his lips.

“Daemon?” You chide, looking around the room once more before turning to him.

There was a small burst of joy in your chest, you missed him dearly, however, he shouldn’t have been here. He was banished from King’s Landing, if anyone knew he would be in so so much trouble.

“You shouldn't be here!” You hiss, placing the baby dragon back by its sibling.

“Pretty one you’ve picked, princess” he deflects, pushing himself away from the wall he leaned against.

You turn to the orange dragon, “She won’t make it they say.” You lament, so quickly forgetting how dangerous Daemon's little visit is.

He hums, approaching you to set his eyes on the dragon. “Name it.”

“I cannot do that?” You look up at him, eyes wide and shaking your head.

“Can you not speak?” His sarcasm doesn’t miss your ears as you tut.

“I'm a Martell.” You state the obvious, wondering if in the eight moons he had spent away from home, he had returned without his sanity.

He faux gasps “What would Daenerys say?”

A pang of guilt hit your chest, you looked nothing like your mother, so accustomed to your dark features you often forgot that there was dragon blood within you.

“I— she won’t make it anyways.” You shake your head, still looking at the dragon napping away.

“Name, princess.”

“Agni…?” You look up at him but flinch once more when this time Oalth comes back to receive you.

Daemon swiftly ducks behind the wall again, as you look at the young dragonkeeper.

“Your wheelhouse is here, the princess calls for you.”

You couldn’t shake off meeting Daemon again, how were you to keep such a secret in your stomach? He was here, he broke the king’s rules — not surprising at all but still, you were a part of whatever his plot was now. Your skin prickled in goosebumps as you made the rounds filling half-empty cups around the Small Council table. Lord Corlys as usual, stopped you from filling his, you would have insisted on just skipping him over but Septa Marlow said it wasn’t proper.

It was the day after and you still rose with such tussled movement within you, did he hurt someone, burn something, do people know you saw him but said nothing— bad girl? You nervously finished your rounds and set down the jug on the table before turning towards the meeting.

The doors opened to the Elder Dragonkeeper using his cane to bow and enter the council room, bile coated the insides of your mouth. You were in so much trouble.

You turned the other way, hearing the Elder speaking in Valyrian, damn you, you patiently listened for anything that might sound like your name, the syllables or the word dārilaros .

“Dārilaros,”

Mother Rhyone, don’t let it be me.

“Daemon sikio sīdas, eglivivys aōhys.” The Elder declared.

The room grew silent, as you turned around, mayhaps you weren’t in trouble at all. He didn’t take your name. You appeared confused at why Rhaenyra appeared angry, you thought she’d be happy to hear the return of her favourite uncle.

“Skorior drōmon Daemon laēttas?” Rhaenyra’s words sounded like a question.

“Dārilaros Baelon iderēptā se Drōmon Ēdrurzo iles rūs.”

Your head turns to Viserys and back to Rhaenyra to try and understand what has happened, but Viserys stands abruptly. Storming out of the rooms with Otto heavy on his heels along with Ser Westerling and the Kingsgaurd. Rhaenyra follows suit in the other direction, running up to her rooms.

The other lords shuffled up, Lord Beesbury and Lord Lyonel left the rooms next, leaving Lord Corlys to sigh and look at your rigid but confused form.

“You ought to return to the gardens girl,” he called out, breaking you out of your bewildered trance. “The jasmine, have they grown?”

“What has happened?” You blurted out. Looking at him this time.

“Prince Daemon has happened, an egg and a hatchling missing.” He shook his head.

You rushed out of the Small Council this tip, taking two steps as you rushed up Maegor’s Holdfast to your apartments. Daemon had once again shot an arrow straight at an already gaping open wound, you only worried about what Rhaenyra might do this time for she couldn’t just beat her fists on Daemon’s chest this time.

When you burst through her chambers she was already gone, the yellow gown she was wearing earlier discarded on her bed and her gloves and dagger gone. You groaned, falling onto her bed, wondering what trouble Rhaenyra was going to find herself this time, instead, you found a small rolled-up parchment along with her clothes.

“ I’ll return soon.”

You could cry from how frustrated and scared you were, why is it that these two always seemed to drag you into impermissible situations, where you must lie for them. You would again be in such trouble.

You paced back and forth at least a hundred times, your feet could have walked to Winterfell and back from how hard and how long you had been pacing, looking out to the setting sun and waiting for Rhaenyra to return home.

Every time a crow or pigeon flew by, you wondered if it was her. Come back, come back you insolent lover of mine.

“Princess?” Sona stood in your receiving chambers with an evening gown in hand, “it is time for supper soon.”

Supper with the king, my death.

Even dressed for supper in a longer gown, you began pacing once more, your boots thudding against the stone floor. Coming up with possible excuses you could give on Rhaenyra’s behalf, feverish, loss of appetite, poor absolutions— uh mayhap not.

When the sun just touched the horizon you began walking towards Viserys’s chambers, mumbling reasoning under your breath as Ser Darklyn followed behind you, he had been fed the story of Rhaenyra being tired, now you needed an elaboration. A sticky narrative with no questions, Ser Darklyn knocked on your behalf and then you were let in.

“Your grace.” You curtsied, waiting for him to receive you.

“Ah, come— come.” Viserys looked up from his pumice stone city.

“You’ve added another layer?” You ask the work was truly beautiful, with more cravings of dragons around the edges of the main wall.

“The Ānōgron, which is?” He quizzed.

“The blood mages workshops?”

He smiled, nodding at you.

“It is beautiful, my king.” You complimented, gently tracing your finger along its edge.

“Where is Rhaenyra?” He muses, still craving away with his dagger.

“She is feeling unwell, she had her supper early and chose to rest for a while.” You say quickly, toying with your fingers.

“Unwell? Pah, I didn’t think the matter with the egg would bother her so deeply.” he shook his head, wiping the tip of his dagger on a cloth. “Has Mellos looked at her?”

“I wouldn’t know, your grace. I spent the evening in the gardens.” Another lie. You twist the rings on your fingers even harder.

You awkwardly begin to walk towards the already set table for three, the aromas of deliciousness filling your nostrils, beyond everything today, you were starving for sure. Just as you settled yourself in, waiting for Viserys to join. The doors to his room opened once more with an attendant stepping in.

“The Princess has returned from Dragonstone.”

Viserys turns to you, eyes squint as he questioningly takes your name once more, your shoulders slumping in defeat and you glaring holes into the back of the attendant walking away.

You sat slowly eating your supper as echoes of arguing bustled from the antechamber, first, you would hear Viserys scold Rhaenyra, and then she would scream back in a rebuttal. It went on for several minutes, you finished your goose by then. Flinching every now and then whenever their voices would boom from the other chamber.

Eventually, everything went quiet, you wondered if this is what those two needed to finally have a proper conversation, one not laced with court propriety but one of a father and his daughter. You could still hear him speaking, and then her speaking. Softly, a fight grew to an endearing conversation by the time you began feasting on the lemon cakes. You slouched against the chair, this time sipping on— or trying to sip on some strong wine, which by all means tasted vile.

The doors then opened, and you abruptly sat straight, wiping the corners of your mouth and sheepishly looking at Rhaenyra. Both of them looked gleeful as they walked toward you.

“You alright sweetheart, you look ill,” Rhaenyra took a seat next to you.

You frowned this time, whisper hissing at her as you smack her thigh, hard. “I lied to the king for you, the king !”

Viserys then called for you. “Usually my court would have liars gelded, but I seem to have hordes of parchment to get through. Up before the Hour of the Rabbit, a King’s Cupbearer must not be late.”

[twisted-tales-of-all]

Until We Meet Again

Summary: Although San is left alone to watch the shrine after his friends move onto the next plane, he faces someone who reminds him of his past love. Pairing: Naga!Choi San x afab!reader Genre: Fluff, one-shot, event, rated PG Tropes: reincarnation, fated lovers Word Count: 3.5K Contains: discussion of death and past lives, sense of not belonging due to bullying/othering (essentially racism) A/N: Apologies for the lack of banner and poor editing. I've been in quite a slump recently, but wanted to ensure I finished up this piece for the spring event. Please check out all the other pieces submitted as well!

Although he's grown accustomed to the lack of visitors, San finds himself exceptionally bored as the cold weather melts away into the beginnings of this spring. Decidedly, he exits his usual post within the forgotten shrine for a walk in the nearby gardens. Despite donning his human form, people can clearly tell that he's different. Feeling everybody's judgemental looks, he tries his best to focus on the well-trimmed stylized bushes and the pruned bunches of flowers that dared to bloom this close to winter's edge.

"Mommy, why are his eyes like that?" A child asks far too loud for their mother's liking, who rushes away with them quickly.

With a sigh, San brings a hand to his temple. Immediately greeted by the cool touch of scales, he only grows more frustrated by the clear differences between him and the humans. Despite his intense respect towards the deity who made him their shrine guardian, he cannot help the feelings of resentment in giving him this specific form. So often, guardians get beautiful animal forms - cats, foxes, dogs - but his deity did not follow these typical choices. Instead, San got the powers and form of a snake. Thanks to various stories about evil snake monsters - Quetzalcoatl, Leviathan, nagas, lamias, gorgons, etc. - most humans steered clear of the shrine for fear of a malevolent deity.

Finding his attempt at a calming walk frustrating, San turns on his heel and heads back towards his home, unaware of the pair of curious eyes watching the whole ordeal. Unlike the judgemental glares of most people in the garden, you look on with an almost naive sense of genuine curiosity. You've heard stories of the guardian spirits of shrines, but this is your first time seeing one. Guided by your urge to learn more about the stranger, you secretly follow his path to the shrine. You witness him drop his human disguise to reveal a far more snake-like appearance before phasing through the closed panels of the shrine, disappearing completely from view.

After a few blinks to reassure yourself that you aren't in a strange dream, you head back to the garden as you think about how to meet him again. As you pass by the flowers he admired earlier, you notice the winter jasmines and smile.

"Elegance and graace; symbolizing good fortune." Repeating the text from a book you read on flower symbolism, you decide exactly how to approach the interesting snake man.

Carefully reviewing your notes over the next few days, you coax a flower away from its friends, thanking it for blooming beautifully to help you. You bring it with you as you make your way to the quiet shrine. Despite not knowing anything about the deity honored there, you respectfully perform a basic prayer to them. After, you feel the presence of someone - or, rather, something - there with you. Trying to hide your smile, you present the carnation upon the stone slab resting between you and the shrine.

"I don't know whether you know the meaning of flowers, but I think it must be fate that you were admiring the winter jasmines. I have a feeling you are similar to them: elegant and graceful. Even if nobody else can see you as anything but a monster because you look different, I refuse to judge you like that. If you'd please, I hope you accept this flower as a testament to my fascination of you. I'd like to get to know you more. Maybe a name, to start."

He doesn't greet you, but you pique his curiosity with your flower knowledge. Peeking through the shutters while hidden by invisibility magic, he commits your image to memory. However, he doesn't have to go searching for you like he expected, as you return to the shrine the following day. For the first time in over a decade, San opens the shutters, allowing you to see the representation of his deity.

Very androgynous, the long-haired figure stands there, dressed in an ornately decorated red and black hanbok. Next to them, a small dragon reaches the height of their knees, threatening whoever it may be. You study the visual, trying to locate anything that might identify what kind of god they are.

With the same intensity, San studies you, wondering whether you have ill intent in coming to the shrine. Today, as well, he remains hidden from you, but he quickly chooses a plant for you. Using his powers, he commands a breeze to drop the mint at your feet.

After a chuckle, you pick it up and question the choice, "This could mean so many different things. I wonder which you thought of when choosing it for me. Are you suspicious of me, or maybe openminded and interested in me? Or maybe you just think I'm a stroke of good luck! Have I healed your loneliness? Give me some more information here!"

Before he realizes it, a smile creeps across his face. Your knowledge and playfulness entice him. Moving out of view and lifting his invisibility, he walks out of the shrubbery and clears his throat to get your attention. As you turn, you're greeted by his human form once again.

"Nice to meet you. You don't have to put up that disguise, y'know. Just be comfortable; I'm not scared. Oh, I'm Y/N, by the way."

"How...? You- How are you so nonchalant about it?"

Tilting your head in confusion, you remind him of a small puppy, naive and trusting in a horribly untrusting world. He can't help but laugh, at your naivety and at himself for suspecting you of ill intent.

"You can call me San. That's the name Bo-in gave me when they took me under their wing."

"Nice to officially meet you, San. Is Bo-in the name of your deity? What did their powers entail?"

"Balance, mostly. Water to fire; earth to sky; shadow to light. Ensuring nothing overpowered its counterpart. They brought me and Soo-ah to their temple, teaching us and granting us our own powers after some time. When it was time for Bo-in to move on from this world, they knew that dragons would soon be hunted, so Soo-ah remained by their side while I stayed to watch over the shrine."

As he talks, his disguise slowly fades away, showing his growing comfort around you. He continues by explaining that Bo-in gave both pupils more unique creature forms than typical spirit guides. Although he doesn't mention why, you assume that it was another attempt to balance things out. From choosing one man and one woman, giving them names that balance, and bringing one while leaving the other, everything was truly done in the name of balance.

While you enjoy learning everything, you have to get home, as the sun has almost made its full path through the sky. As you say your goodbyes, you promise to return another day in the near future.

"Y/N," he calls after you've taken a few steps. "Thank you."

"Hm?"

"Just... thank you."

He'll never say it aloud. Never admit that you remind him of her. If he admits it, he'll have to acknowledge his feelings once again, after all this time. He'd have to recognize that he thanked you for returning to him and repairing his trust in humanity. That he can feel Bo-in looking down on him and smiling as everything goes according to plan.

"Y/N isn't Soo-ah." He says it aloud to convince himself and snap at his god for planning it.

When he rises the next morning, a bright red flower rests beside him. Since nobody has access to his magical abode, he immediately deduces it as a message from Bo-in. Wiping the residual sleepiness from his eyes and sitting up straight, San picks up the crimson petals to identify them. Camellia.

"Is this a joke, Bo-in? I only know two meanings behind the red camellia: love and a graceful death. What could you-?"

As it hits him, the words stop flowing. There's no way that's what they mean, right? But what else could this particular flower mean? Is it really a confirmation of Soo-ah's return? Hers is the only graceful death he can think of. Not to mention his love for her over all these centuries still holding strong.

The next time you go to meet San, you want to bring out another plant, but you can't figure out any that stand out, so you ask the local florist to choose a meaningful flower for you, essentially leaving the choice up to fate. When he comes back with a bright red flower that you don't know the meaning of, you find it quite a good match to your new friend, whose hair radiates a similar tone. Especially so after the florist explains that camellias are often used to symbolize overcoming adversity. After learning his story the day prior, you decide that this flower fits perfectly. Thanking him, you pay for the flower and begin heading towards Bo-in's shrine.

As you arrive, you're shocked by how grim the area feels. Usually bustling with greenery and a freshness in the air, you become overwhelmed by the thick, heavy air. Looking around at the bushes, it appears as if a tornado had focused its chaos upon the small pavilion. Dropping the flower, you rush to the shrine, tearing the shutters open and calling out for San.

"Quit your yapping."

Hearing a voice above you, you search the trees for a sign of him but cannot find one.

"San, come here. What happened?"

Plopping down behind you, he answers vaguely, "Bo-in is testing me."

With the momentum of the spin to face him, you nearly trip over your own two feet. Expecting to find his face at its normal height, you look around confused when that isn't the case.

"Down here."

You feel a light pressure on your foot and look down to find a red and brown snake atop it. Your gut reaction is to jump and kick it away, but you manage to stop yourself knowing that the creature is your friend.

"I can't change. Bo-in left me a flower, and, after a few hours, I felt my control over my powers weakening at a rapid rate. Now I'm here."

Squatting down, you hold a hand to the snake to bring him up to your level again. He wraps his scaly body around your arm, keeping his head near your palm. You try not to smile at his appearance, but it creeps through anyway.

"Laugh all you want." He huffs.

"I'm not laughing! I just think you're cute like this, that's all."

If a snake could blush, you're certain you'd see it right now. Tripping over his words and looking anywhere else but your face, San fails to respond to your comment. Your comment clearly flusters him, so you make a note to compliment him more in all of his various forms.

"So, what do we have to do to get you out of this form? It isn't some 'true love's kiss' type thing, is it?"

Although you were joking entirely, the silence that follows makes your heart drop a bit.

Eventually, he answers, "I sure hope not." Turning away from you and constricting more around your arm, he adds, "Let's try anything else before we assume that's the solution."

"You... don't have a clue?"

"No. Bo-in left the flower and then this happened. Nothing else. No clues."

Suddenly reminded of the flower you brought him, you look around to find it. He catches sight of its vibrant hue and everything immediately clicks in his mind.

"That's a camellia, isn't it?"

You hum in agreement as you bend down to pick it up, adding, "I didn't know much about it, but the florist told me that it's a sign of overcoming adversity. After hearing your life story, I-"

"That's the flower Bo-in left me."

"How strange. Do you think it means something?"

"Y/N." He pauses, and the emphasis in his voice sends a shiver up your spine, "That flower screams Soo-ah. It means perishing with grace, and symbolizes a strong, long-lasting love."

A strong gust blows at you, harshly ripping a few petals from their pistil. San carefully watches where they land, hoping for a coincidence rather than another part of Bo-in's scheme. Despite his wishes, however, each petal lands precisely in the center of the place it softly floats to the small pond, the shrine's entrance, and the zen garden.

"Water, earth, and air. With a flower as vibrant as flames."

Slowly, you approach the petal at the entrance. Looking in, there's now a cloudy but reflective surface in place of Bo-in's engraved likeness. Focusing on your reflection, you find a completely different image. Rather than you holding a snake, you see two people holding hands. You quickly identify San despite the longer dark hair and wedding-style suit, but you don't recognize the other figure who matches in an elegant white dress with red and gold jewelry. As you move, she moves with you, but this definitely isn't your own reflection.

"That's Soo-ah, isn't it?"

"You're Soo-ah, Y/N." Another booming voice responds before the snake in your hand gets the chance.

Quickly, you spin on your heel. There, just as androgynous as the carving, stands Bo-in. Despite the initial shock, standing there together feels normal. Comfortable. Familiar.

"It's like San says. Although your memories have been wiped upon reincarnation, you were once Soo-ah. Somehow, you were drawn back to this place despite my best attempts to keep you away. Therefore, as I promised you before approving the reincarnation, I will offer my explicit approval for your love. As a gift, I can also return your memories to you, should you want them back."

"Bo-in, revert this magic." Annoyed, San blurts out, interrupting the conversation. "I'd like to change this form again. It is awkward to stay like this while you both have physical human forms."

Despite the interruption, Bo-in appears unfazed, holding out a hand for San to slither onto. A dim light radiates from their palm and surrounds the small snake. Shortly after, San returns to a humanoid form. This interaction buys you some additional time to comprehend the situation and figure out how to answer such a difficult question.

Bo-in returns focus to you, "Have you decided, Soo-ah?"

A shiver runs up your spine, making you twitch from the discomfort. Although you understand that you're Soo-ah's reincarnation, being addressed by her name irks you. You haven't been Soo-ah in decades. You've been yourself all these years, not her. Meeting San was coincidental, even if there might've been outside forces influencing you to do certain things.

With this revelation, you decide, "I appreciate your offer, Bo-in, but suddenly acquiring memories from a past life feels like something that the human mind cannot handle. It'd likely send me down a spiral about my identity. I have to reject your offer."

A smile creeps onto Bo-in's face as you talk, but it's San who speaks first, "Man, you really ARE the same person."

Confused, your wide-eyed gaze hops back and forth between the two people in front of you. Neither cares to give any further context, and Bo-in confuses you even more by breaking out into bellowing laughter without comment. San quickly joins, and soon their laughs are too contagious to avoid. Although you can't pinpoint the reason for the laughter, it lightens the load in your heart.

Shortly after the laughter settles, Bo-in says goodbye and wishes you both luck. Leaving you and San alone, the air tenses again. You quickly go to apologize for not reviving Soo-ah's memories, thinking that may be why things feel awkward. However, before you can say three words, you feel lips on yours and hands cupping your cheeks. Your face heats up from the sudden affection, but you also melt into the sensation. You've been on your own for so long that you didn't realize how much you longed for someone to kiss you.

The interaction feels quick, but San pulls away with a heavy breath. The air is thick and warm between you, and you can't find the words to say after such a sudden interaction, but the silence that follows feels fresh, as if the kiss extended into the depths of your souls. When his breathing returns to normal, the silence finally breaks.

"I'd apologize, but I actually don't regret it."

You can't help but laugh. His confident aura lends to the cockiness of his comment, but he fully jokes. Despite his words, you know he's sorry for the sudden invasion of your personal space.

"Don't worry, San. I enjoyed it. You don't need to apologize."

"Okay, good. I mean, surely it must've felt like all those plays describe, right? Where you're swept off your feet by the man of your dreams."

Rolling your eyes, you refuse to give him the satisfaction of any answer whatsoever. Instead, you change the subject, asking him to adapt a little to the current culture. Although he finds current technology difficult to manage, you convince him to trade in the flower-passing messaging for a simple flip phone.

After suggesting that you'll be back next time with a phone, you give him a hug and take your leave. He kisses your forehead, and you think about it the whole trip home. You can feel the smile etched across your face. It's not just your lips either; you just know there's a twinkle in your eyes and more light on your full face. Although unusual, you rationalize it with the thought that it's simply because it's been too long.

It takes a while for him to adjust to the phone, but once he does, you'd be easily convinced that he never puts it down. Multiple calls daily make you glad you didn't teach him how to message people. Meetings become more frequent and in new places as you show him some of your favorite places. Slowly but surely, he begins adjusting to the lifestyle you've known.

Although he's had a few slip-ups, calling you Soo-ah a few times, he immediately corrects himself and apologizes each time. You understand that you likely resemble her in numerous ways, so you don't get upset. And, just as you intended by refusing your past life memories, San begins falling for Y/N rather than simply seeing Soo-ah in you. The name swaps happen less and eventually completely fade away. You feel it in his demeanor, too. Rather than being restrictive and apologetic about his feelings, his confidence soars, and his actions towards you feel fuller, more genuine and complete.

A few months pass; the next season comes. You barely even notice before San points it out.

"The colors of spring are wonderful, but there's a serenity that comes with the beginning of summer. Don't you think?"

Caught off-guard by the sudden question, you look around so you can respond. Expecting the cleanness that comes when all the flowers of spring fall to the ground and get whisked away by the wind, you actually find yourself stuck staring at a rarity. Once something unrecognizable to you, your eyes catch onto a camellia. However, this one isn't as striking as the red one from before. Rather, as if someone stripped the color clean out, this lone flower stands a bright white, still managing to stand out against the browns and yellows of the season's transition.

Shocked at your silence, San follows your unwavering gaze to the bush. When he catches sight of it, his eyes widen, and he curses under his breath. Even without knowing the specifics behind the various color meanings of this flower, something about the striking white feels haunting to you. You remind yourself that the flower means long-lasting, mutual love, but San's words ring in your head: it means perishing with grace. Is it a bad omen? Bo-In hasn't interfered since that day, so there's no way they'd speak to you now, right? Is it a warning? Are you overreacting?

"San..."

"They don't bloom this late. It shouldn't exist." Flatly, your boyfriend declares, a poorly-hidden concern painted upon his face.

Standing up from the bench, you approach the flower with San trailing a step behind you. Reaching out and touching it, the whole thing falls apart. Characteristic of camellias, the petals and sepals all collapse together at the slightest touch of your finger. With your arm frozen in position, you turn your head to the boy on your left, shooting him a concerned look.

Placing an arm around your shoulders, he files through a dozen statements to try and reassure you both that it's pure coincidence with no meaning. Even though you're certain both of you have worries in the back of your mind, you drop your arm and the topic all at once. Bouncing back into a happy state, you begin walking away and finally answer the question from earlier to segue into a new conversation.

"Summer really gives off that sense of a new beginning. Everything is changing, just like us. I think it's really appreciated in the cycle of seasons."

"Just like us... You're right. Here's to our new start with the season change."

[ramayantika]

Sakal Ban

Oh look how the streets have been adorned with colourful banners and flower boughs. The flags of my kingdom fly high on the beautiful carved towers, showing the grandeur of my city.

It's the time of the Spring festival. The fields look as golden as the sun with mustard flowers sprouting from the brown soil, their slender stalks flowing in the flower-laden spring breeze, and maidens wearing colourful robes with chiming anklets on soft red-dyed feet run through the golden fields.

I used to be one of them ages ago. These young girls donned in light shaded robes look as beautiful blooms of the royal garden, which used to be a place for my secret trysts with the handsome young lover, who is still elegant and regal as ever, but alas, no longer mine.

Mango buds hang from the branches, and little children play with stones and pebbles under the young tree. Somewhere in the distance, in the extravagant places of the courtly dancers and musicians, I see a lovely maiden adorn flowers in her braid.

Oh, honeybees, you traverse in circles

around the lone nectar-filled bloom in vain.

When you have the whole garden behind her head

Why go for the single little flower of a shrub?

I make my way through the crowded colourful streets once again like I do every Spring Festival, every year and pay my respects at the Nizamudin's shrine.

Dusty paths permeate with a fragrance of jasmine and lavender, and the bazaars are teeming with sweet shops, with small vendors selling savoury snacks. A husband gently feeds a milk sweet to his wife who glows with the little child growing inside her.

I clutch my stomach, and my heart grows fond but also silently weeps at the fate that I was shown but mercilessly snatched away from.

The chitter-chatter of the streets grow louder. In every courtyard, poets and singers sing verses of lovers and romantic union in spring. The patronisers of art fling their gold and silver in fine silk bundles.

And finally the Royal trumpet blows. The crowd stills. The garden girls with large flower garlands stand on the sides, their smiley faces glowing under the pleasant sun. I smile too.

The palanquin bearing the queen enters the street to the shrine. I caress the ring on my finger, a metallic symbol of a broken promise of yesteryears.

The soldiers cheering the empress's name flank the palanquin. Her maidservants and handmaidens donning simple shades and cotton skirts that lightly flutter in the wind walk by. The crowd amazed at all the riches, power and grandeur swoon in delight.

And then the announcer announces the arrival of the empress. He rules over everyone. He rules over our hearts and souls, but foremost mine, even when I can no longer claim his heart, forget the soul anymore, but some springs before, he was all mine, body, heart and soul, where we claimed each other in the golden fields of mustard blooms.

And fate is a popular jester, its jabs hurt the heart at times, but you have to keep smiling, keep laughing, for the show must go on. Life must go on.

An old singer sings:

woh mohe awan keh gaye ashiq rang aur beet gaye barson, sakal ban, phool rahi sarson sakal ban

The emperor hasn't once seen my eyes in all these years, and I never crossed my fate with his. Not all wishes come true at the shrine, and not all promises can be kept.

For some hearts, there is never warm beautiful spring

All they get is a merciless cold winter until death claims their breath,

With Death granting an illusionary hope of a sweet union in the afterlife...

Fate, a cruel jester! The emperor's eyes meet my steely ones. A lone drop falls and I drag the thin veil around my face. The Spring breeze burns my flesh, it's cool winds freezing my once warm and hopeful heart.

But the show must go on, and the Emperor of my city, the lovely Prince of my youth, the sole Ruler of my heart walks away majestically on the royal elephant.

Not once does he turn back and I feel the sharp chilly winds of winter enter my heart.

*＊✿❀　❀✿＊**＊✿❀　❀✿＊**＊✿❀　❀✿＊*

Tags: @alhad-si-simran @houseofbreadpakoda @swayamev @arachneofthoughts @krishna-priyatama @navaratna @inexhaustible-sources-of-magic @madoucesouffrance @jessbeinme15 @kaal-naagin @aesthetic-aryavartik @krsnaradhika @krishnaaradhika .

Um so I have been listening to Sakal ban from heeramandi. Looked up to the translation a little and I am writing this inside my Pharmaceutical analysis lab before viva which I am actually not prepared for but we ball.

Please please tell me how it was okay. I haven't written, read and danced due to this continuous shower of exams and it feels so restless and suffocating. I was desperate so wrote this on my phone. So, yes, do leave reviews, comments etc.

Maybe I will post a dance cover after internals later on.

Also, if there are others who wsnt to be included in my writing taglist, do let me knowm

[daylight-boyy]

Poked around and looked into the symbolism of different plants mentioned in protocol 3 (taking root).

(cut because it's a bit long)

Jasmine:

- various associations in different cultures.

- united states: primarily associated with romance and beauty. Only a limited link to this case (the love - however controlling - Dr Webber feels for Maddie).

- Italy (14c): white jasmine is associated with purity and innocence, featuring heavily in art of the virgin mary. No strong connection to this case.

- Thailand: associated with motherhood, respect and love. No strong connection to case.

- Philippines: symbolises luck and power. Potential link to case (specifically ‘power’ part of symbology).

- jasmine is associated with the Hindu deity Shitala, who protects against disease. This is interesting as it could be ironic symbolism in the case.

Generally, it appears to be associated with love, or beauty, which isn't particularly relevant to the case. However, *blue* jasmine is associated with calmness and tranquility, which could link to Dr Webber's increasingly serene state throughout the journal entry.

- from a more literal outlook, jasmine is a climbing plant. From this, it could be associated with "choking things out", which could mirror the way Webber's awareness and panic is gradually ground down throughout the ‘night’. Additionally, due to it's sweetness and headiness, the scent of jasmine (which is referred to several times) could be interpreted as overwhelming or dizzying, and could be tangentially linked to Webber's faltering grip on reality (not the best phrase, but unsure of how else to describe it).

Aniseed:

- primarily, anise flowers appear to be associated with wisdom and clarity of thought. Again, this is ironic to the nature of Dr Webber's experiences.

- similarly to jasmine, aniseed is considered to be calming.

- interestingly, it is more often used to represent relationships and close bonds in literature, which does highlight Webber's complicated and ultimately doomed relationship with Maddie.

- in some spirituality, wilted or dying anise (flowers, specifically) is said to reflect poor wellbeing or health - this seems fairly in tune with the other themes in the case.

Birch:

Note: considering the line "my skin is pulling away nicely, like blanched tomatoes", it seems likely that it could be paper birch, specifically.

- although birch does have some more...generic associations (healing, protection, good fortune), the parts that seem most relevant to the case are new beginnings and regeneration.

- what interests us is that typically, yew trees are found in churchyards (UK). They were traditionally planted because yew was associated with protection and regeneration (and were believed to help protect the buried dead) - very similar characteristics to birch. The main difference (as far as we are aware) is that yew is also associated with longevity, while birch is not (birch have a relatively short lifespan, for a tree). From a diagetic point of view, this could portend doom for Webber (all things considered from the end of the case, and the fact that the journal was "found within a water damaged black briefcase, partially buried, penetrated by mouldy roots" - albeit with no body - he probably did meet a grisly end)

...On a bit more of a tangent to this, yew trees are so incredibly poisonous. Every single part of the tree is toxic, except the red aril (berry flesh surrounding the seeds). You often find that large yew trees are surrounded by bare earth rather than grass and herbaceous plants because the dropping needles sterilise the soil. This is interesting in the context of the episode because that aspect would be very in tune with the Corruption in Archives. Something beautiful and growing and ultimately deadly, gradually leaching into its surroundings, poisoning and killing everything it touches...but this isn't Archives. Who knows! Maybe that's why birch features instead. I just. Why no yew tree? Why? We just want to know :(

[cafffeineconnoisseur]

DAY EIGHT

(hi, remember that if you guys have any ideas for questions I can use, you all can feel free to drop them in my box! not running out of inspiration yet, but its cool to have a wide variety of questions that I might not think of otherwise!)

~season edition~

what season are you living in right now?

what do you like most about it?

what do you like least about it?

what is your favorite season and why? (if it isn't the one you're already living in now lol)

what is your least favorite season and why? (if it isn't the one you're already living in now lol)

if there was one thing you could add/take away/change about 1 season of the year, what would it be and why?

and finally, what are some of your favorite local plants that go with each season? (example: spring-daffodils, summer-roses, fall-sunflowers, winter-evergreen) (can be any plants too, not just flowers)

I am so glad you're asking this so I can rant about the weather haha

what season are you living in right now? Summer or may I say ✨intense✨ summer with a side of random weather thanks to climate change lol

what do you like most about it? Mangoes, watermelons, lychees, icecreams, swimming and random holidays cuz of the heatwave lol

what do you like least about it? The crazy temperatures which almost touch 50°C. The constant dehydration, heat strokes, sun burns, fainting etc.

what is your favorite season and why? Winters sjskskks cuz it's very festive haha and my birthday is in winter. Also you get these array of fresh veggies, warm blankets and beverages and just comfort.

what is your least favorite season and why? Summers cuz of the intense heat and all the reasons I listed above lol.

if there was one thing you could add/take away/change about 1 season of the year, what would it be and why? I would actually enjoy summer if it wasn't soooo hot lol or winter if it wasn't exam season 💀

and finally, what are some of your favorite local plants that go with each season? This reminds me of my childhood home where my grandpa had made this huge beautiful garden with so many different kinda of plants and flowers omg I miss it.

Summers - I love Jasmine (mogra) during this season, we had lots of bushes of them. They are white really small flowers and smell really good. Often they are woven into a garland and worn in the hair during festivals. It is called gajra and I love it omg. Here's the gajra I had worn few weeks ago sjsksks

Autumn/ spring - definately roses. I remember as a kid having roses of all the colours in our garden and often giving a rose to my teachers or my friends. They are just so pretty.

Random- appreciation for the money plant on my desk, it grows so well and looks so pretty and aesthetic lol

I'm open for name suggestions for this plant baby sjskskks

Thanks a lot for the ask, I had a great time answering this~~~

[libidomechanica]

Untitled Composition # 12124

A tanka sequence

                Gone ere Robert come forth, like to the fort, a ship with this helpless breasts. But him, her house, four naked to lift him upward its ash.

                But now to speak? Would ye have known rustic town set in a bigger. A piano at her eye-lids droop’d, her eyes can your glory.

                A bargain dress off their own. Do melt as I! To call his own. He played; and one would quit the same time and the rhyme, the face, prepare.

                Saw not fall could not keep, nor my weak arm disperse the New Testament is, come I will collection move, a flower in spring.

                To the trouble free. And fashion and debauchery, with joyes increase in me? Besides love, like pretty price to draw this circle.

                The hour of despair from ruin and our dayes: whose power to answers the palace gleams. And lays the earth; a chair wept bitterness.

                The rain is with half alcohol, to that I had despise. But each within. Can overwhelmed the heart had ached to hear of their own.

                Your vows, had given us letter, whose lover, and your minds, our bodies merely suppliant and his cheek; a kiss nor look be lost.

                A golden, shows the mountains overhead and his close for miles and ears, and even condescended of an acting now? Look!

                Compare the same. But do not so, I am all as well expressly foretold, dying, the land and purge the glass, so little man.

                Love makes me wish you might be blotted: but after every line and anguish seize his own: the brown paper. Went forth a gem; to see.

                She though heere are plants that soon as breath finds you gone. For he was up and up, to be in the just plea by some face I recognize?

                The Tory, a dinner to half to thee. In the dawn of day: these last shone the forbid. If you desire, and long by the fields.

                Sought he said, sleepy one? Saved from troubled like a better in a rainbow wroth, life and I—too late, with my hands, not only gleaned.

                Love and hoisted up his tears: alas! Little birds, that stared as blank. Ere this, resumed and filthy head till my arms, which I let drop.

                A crimination. If from above, but a trick to my heart, and feelings keep piling upon mine armour beauty would not die.

                Of shepheards all, there did lye, with love’s first time a hundred-year sleep. Or judge of better, snowed it down as in a thin and freedom.

                Now, sun, look, then I was wont to be discharged of the jasmine and event. And in the scene is youth to view, are loth to mount her.

                The queen cried aloud. And, since she lovely-head! Dies with reason: then we fall out I know not,—only this: they have no bitter sea.

                It feels right: such pierlesse painted in the Frick which each man love he gains his captains of the ravish’d bride of grief. My faith reward.

                Which they doe as they bore himself on that spatter heaven, or yet in her cheerfuller? How each field of counsels deep, never growe.

                Sweetness and all her wheel exterminated and sorrow? And there could be the brighter with his knife carved the feast; and for your truth.

                The crew to be sent with us in the earth in vain on me. I built up a pile of best, Being so overwrought, I meant this.

                A sunbow’s arc above the door. Thus in a thin and novice in delighted, for I know. To take the hall; and whispers, I wait.

                While I’m asleep on which he could not nap or lie in sleep were stay because my lips into the world will ever call me Papa.

                Of the bride with that dark procession! Eyes nurtured by the straw into gold? Sent and loved but you but you until the bargain made.

                Heard melodie so when love the priestly race. Catkins of roses free he fed; lasses, like a marble floor, his brow chalcedony.

                I took my staff stood upon the sturdy slaves, a sleeping maid; like Dian and with a flitting her women; certain woman. Rich.

                She made him quite a scoff; and wett your tracks? I would quit the short, the parting maid; like Dian and here all women, calling your neck.

                Doth emulation was. We drank a health, in heavier wreath of chosen friend, because of Her, salámán have no recompense.

                My curls about the cost, chose an ungrateful ground, taking its sunny bank the comfort Him. She had taught the town knows its boughs! Fault.

                Consider a girl who keeps slipping off you. If they are grown, it made him quiet, my faithlesse Rosalind, and marvelled, lo!

                Again, when cursed NO stain’d by a truce, begins with such familiarly do I perceive her alone. Thy eyes and the flat common.

                Went form, dost tease us out of Night. From on high, beginning that in an ear-shaped cone to mine eyes, my love no frown can fright me.

                Where that had drunk in the hill? Oh pardon, I am trying to the morn when, tired with tears have lost in other year of waking!

                Thus in secret sent, the rainsoaked garbage, the end of the flowers, and plucked the land and hairs of words you gone. When will woo ye.

                With thy beautiful amid the offence, he showe? As fast as this tract again until I noticed one by one, a neighborhoods.

                For he should nor could love. Weakness, staring wide with ugly rack on his gains. Cannot live: tell her glory also, and all but me.

                That answer ere they surveyed. The longer envying the mournful thought it is his mother’d in my cups the will glances let me go.

                Things that it is told. And I will not beware. Ye know on earth, and smell it, and brave; but since and I could give it a clumsy name.

                For there appeared. Love disdained, and in the well-built with my hand of negligence; the ravishers were express her character with&.

                Yours is the rival chance to your chance to travelling asleep, and nettled that she composed her flight. So he didn’t pick the rich reward.

                There arms of the rose from those jacks so happy love! In oil of roses were twinkling winds and never passed, and now delight; but ah!

                Hills echoèd. The sun, his wind-tossed hand that whene’er I went out the height, Powers above, the joy of my smarts, that it both in bed.

                Ah, my Anthea! Came from Greenwich hither had a certain, would he turn’d when I entered with their souls resolved he said the time.

                Suits some host to purchase female gear; he brought. Declining scales, the rain is with her eyes. And to fight, doe make that soft-luring crown.

                Making of his face. And showed the nuptial day, prepared them forward a dry radius describes form seemingly very ears were.

                One part Doppelganger. If ever marked by reason, owe, Stay, see the trees refused the light were their oars, and when we met first days.

                It in a gleaming river’s crescent orange shirt for aid, confused by me, thou consumed. The end again, without discriminal.

                Then wake in one; shine on her breath, I tie the Knot; and art not think. And may the tedious, but with shining in May. They restored.

                ’St thou bestowing. Shall I my undoing much deplore, since sorrow. Fair, grew in such she seemed, but for a boy was he to blame?

                The kindly season of the rack and I turn our house, four naked breast down her and sea. I was abandoned out by the things deem’d.

                Broken its grey line there was awake all my heart of June? Have traded life when you your skin growings, still that, that it was restored.

                In May. But all was quiet: from Galesus change beyond memory clings to keep my mind liked an error of the rainbow frill?

                To see a woman, like a girl, for on my face; the shadow pay? And joyous wood the ghastly Wraith of one that mine was too late.

                Joined in the man. Husband, and still plain defend them not. The heart. A kiss on your cream here’s a zone colder yet than living lips.

                Such a handkerchief so wet it is clear. Own not what I can give you there mayet thou no form of welcome homely, as I have said!

                As chearful as you trouble free. Growing what happen to mellow, and heave, as if by the hostile ship already play the mind.

                And unruffled moonlight, alone, and, constant stars go over the same time it splits—half for each seam gleams. And Agamemnon dead.

                And never an end. Lady Blanche’ she said, Tis now bestowed; they had chanced that all his tardy day: by this means I may be vain!

                It seems to chew the entrance, each touch they seem’d to cling to pay the time is come upon a chair wept bitterness. Their del’cat smell.

                Unless you cool me with mourning crowd of state, while the way you look at a strange. My faith and fair in face, excelling in effect.

                No doubt his burthens binde. Because no fault, there made, thou dost rove there’s strawberries. Cupid, as his corpse, to find my wandring thee?

                I look the gifts; he said, and Lady Psyche’s pupils. Woman, weaving mine, lass, in mine, you know, but every act pertaining swords.

                Of his, whase only paid, tell me then, come out to your final sign thy dear concern. Let me and deprived of flight. Wood where their place.

                Would not falsifie. She rose: and from hanging couple all to stray, and her faire which other’s forming care, and thin, her ravished dame.

                Our form improve, but I am over the trysted hour! Take the sunlight fades away, if like a stock than living next to him.

                He was a piteous thing, where the silvery koi swishings, had tempt the northern downs in clearer air ascend the various points.

                If ever to remained more: a thousand beat, so, lover! The rich dare complaining others false New England forgave the perfume.

                Dales of Arcady? If all who cannot keep at such art as truth, truth beauty I remember, through thou canst thou wilt be my ain.

                But if their surfaces with his lighted sailors tried to root, their heads of sticks, then hastening. Many a coral grove, This I sealed.

                This flesh of mine more that breezy shade dight gaudy Girlonds, was he shouldst stay! Went, a squire will—with chearful, while I stop, not decreed.

                Had from their souls to pick. On softer earth, where either hand; exciting a ding, ding; sweet voice most lov’d at such a height of a son.

                It gouges out in evening. To thee resort; where, and youth, beneath secure his brother’s holiday, that it both in it at all.

                Stand the people from the fool confined each doore, ere the most new babies, as ugly as a grape. Rank thought o’ Mary Morison.

                Search, sun, and thy cheek open. When you your sleeping maid; like Dian and her figures in a year when every motion sound; by love?

                Though the sun was strawberries. Because of thine; for we hold Thee just, strike your chanced that he liued, was damn’d to the law of your dwarf.

                The ruling rod, the tree when I did behold at home. The call, and looked at me a little grave, o there is not palsy or booze.

                Therefore I loved the native night: the father’s light. Were not aspire, nor less thrice-turned towards the lily, unheeded the bitter sea.

                Then Cymon’s back in his heard nor saw: tho’ this wit the primrose flowering down in meshes of life before peopled with tears. Oh!

                Doe make love be love. I found that I was gone who sits and children— happier far could you too. His others, will stay on your truth.

                You are old and in my arms with somewhat of dignity. When all the shocks my daintye Daysies dight, to lay his thunder’d at the bed.

                His body now alone that hour, with whom so long low sibilation, delicate-stepping stand! I am eighteen inches high.

                All the air, seekes for something to post with pain the cost of prisoner to her garden. And now that mind whelps at the animals.

                Can see, my father’s service do, mayest thou thy skill to endure what is tame, and fortunes lot the rising sun, then given its own.

                They whose shadows lay in a man, compare the future fears; for your own, a thin file of ants. Here. And the November of the pit.

                He laid down his ardent wish without sigh or tears, so long, but is got up, and when to the stage. A certain what thyself in two.

                All naked, playing with her face for such things which tenacious how to pleasures which they dimpl’t wi’ a smiling air. And lovely-head!

                Leave his supreme delightes with their own! With Cyril and with arrowy smart; it is a monster of her brothers made me blinds.

                —You may remember yet, which other. But he was in the dust; we are not; the sword enured to bite the massive weapons fly.

                The God of shepherded down starch halls with his tiny as an earphone with this mortals, love you ended I had been shedding day.

                And by proof they are overfed. Myself will not be but signified: the first shall we for the Spring, hardly whence the flowers.

                Chafing me back again. The first shall not, made green gleam of dewy- tasselled trees, made my heart of his fathers are waking now?

                He kisses are fully pleasures doth repent, but a shore, waiting always of sun had seen her bow. In comin by the ward too.

                And rain was sapped; and long by the coward bold; the land at my place. How the pavement thrown, somewhat like an arm of well-refined pen.

                And the gift wherefore I lie tendency of burning friends, the great, it seemed to give me one; nay in my soul. Lay your silence.

                Loved of more and sweeping fire you must like an arm of eminence mongst them, dear Jane! All the downward cast; and taught one to walk here.

[wingedblooms]

a demon in Spring

Elain Archeron Week, Day 4: Romance

@elainarcheronweek

Clutching her husband’s hastily written note in her hand, Elain finally escaped the rose-covered manor as the sun began to sink into the hills.

Come find me in the stars.

She smiled to herself, soaking up the golden shimmer of dusk and the scents of eternal spring—jasmine, lilac, and roses—as she crested the hill to their slice of starlight. They had stumbled upon the enchanted pool at the end of a particularly brutal day of meetings in her first week as High Lady. And ever since, Azriel would beckon her to the pool whenever she needed some peace and quiet, their moans harmonizing with the melody of the forest as they worshipped each other among the stars. Hours later, when they were exhausted from the exertions of their secret ritual, they’d melt into the grass and fall asleep to the lullabies of the ancient willow. As the sun rose the next morning, their bodies would come together once more, slow and gentle and gilded with the soft light of dawn, before they had to return to face the day, and their court, together.

It was quite a shock when the magic chose her after Tamlin succumbed to his beast form and could no longer rule. His grief lingered in the heart of the land, from the tangled roses to the crumbling exterior of the long-neglected manor. Elain felt the ache of the court’s despair in her bones as she set to work. She introduced herself to the manor and surrounding land first, running fingers across leaves, rubbing the bark of trees, and cupping roses in the gardens, her voice a soft and healing chant. Spring quickly thrived again under her loving care: flowers bloomed, birds chirped merrily, and beasts settled in her presence. It was this quiet care, with her mystical and mighty powers from the Cauldron, that gradually won the respect of her court.

Elain shook the cloudy memory of those days from her eyes, focusing on the dream made flesh before her: her husband was aglow with the dying light, a symphony of song flitting between the trees around him as his wings darkened the iridescent pool of starlight. She took a moment to admire the flow of starlight as it meandered down his powerful wings and muscled back and into the cosmic depths below. No matter how many years passed, his unearthly beauty still made her breathless. He was forever her beautiful Death, a demon who loved the spring and the Lady who tended it.

Sensing her heated gaze, Azriel turned slowly, his leathery wings fluttering with her attention. Her mouth bloomed into a smile at the subtle display of dominance and she descended to meet him, her fingers plucking at the laces of her velvet gown. It dropped to the ground at the edge of the pool and slow and smooth as honey, she sank into the liquid starlight and sighed with relief when its healing warmth seeped into her body. The space between them disappeared as she wrapped her arms around him, her vibrant light twining with his shadows as their bodies melded together. Azriel’s eyes glowed with hunger, and his voice—the loveliest sound in all of Spring—was soft as silk against her ear as he whispered, “Good evening, wife.”

This short headcanon is based on the theory that someone outside of the royal bloodline—like Elain—will inherit the magic of Spring and Azriel Archeron, her husband, makes the court his home without hesitation. I am not a creative writer like my talented friends, but I had to write about this image that came to me as I was writing Blooming spring. Elain is associated with symbols of rebirth [spring and dawn], so I’m quite obsessed with her possessing light that heals and creates hope, and when combined with her sight, she can create a brighter, more loving future [as long as you aren’t on her shit list]. @silverlinedeyes, @offtorivendell, and I have theorized about her sight and song, which inspired the witchy chant that’s mentioned when she first arrives in Spring. I believe they will support and challenge each other to grow in a way that suits their characters, which may even mean healing and finding their home away [either temporarily or permanently] from the Night Court. There are many possibilities for their story and I cannot wait to read it!

[julek]

for love, for love, for love

for @writinglizards <3 love you, i hope you enjoy the filth. | READ ON AO3

rated E | 2.8K | warnings: A/B/O, intersex omegas, knotting

The sun was shining, birds were singing, and Jaskier was in love.

After years and years and some more years of pining and moping around miserably, Jaskier had finally gathered up the courage (and the liquor) to look into soft vanilla-eyes and utter the most important three words that had ever crossed his mind. And he’d watched as Geralt’s eyes had softened, melting into amber, and crinkled around the corners; felt the way his scent had gone sweet and the faint smell of lust had begun to fill his senses.

And they’d fallen into bed — after a murmured yes, I do too, and a sigh of relief, and sweet nothings whispered between long-coming kisses. And Jaskier had found himself pressed flat against the rickety inn bed as Geralt’s breaths came hot and heavy against his throat, their hips pressed together. They’d come just like that — legs entwined and sweaty kisses being pressed into each other’s skin.

Jaskier had expected Witchers to be different — Geralt had offhandedly mentioned some of the changes they’d had to go through in their adolescence, the way their skin stretched and their muscles tore apart just to be rebuilt anew. He was the only omega in his pack, he’d told him, and had therefore been trained harder, pushed into new limits just to be assured he would stand his ground in a fight. What a load of shit, Jaskier had thought, the image of a brown-haired Geralt chained to a bed, crying out in pain making his hackles rise.

“I want you to knot me,” Geralt had murmured against his chest, unprompted, that first night. Jaskier groaned.

“You— that— you can’t just say that to me, Geralt,” he’d huffed, frowning at Geralt’s self-satisfied smirk. “You’ve basically rendered me useless for the months to come, dear.”

Geralt shrugged. “I want you to,” he said simply. “I wanted you to, tonight.”

“Oh?” Jaskier made an inhuman effort to sit up straighter, propped against the wall with two-hundred pounds of satisfied Witcher on top of him. “I didn’t— I would never assume.”

Geralt pressed a kiss to the hollow of his throat, burrowing closer into Jaskier’s warmth. “I know,” he murmured. Then, he took a deep breath. “It’s harder, for us,” he said. “To be… prepared.” He looked up at Jaskier. “Here,” he said, and took Jaskier’s hand, guiding it down to his crotch. Jaskier’s breath hitched as his fingers gently brushed against Geralt’s folds, but a tiny frown appeared on his brow when, instead of hot wetness, he was met with dry skin.

He looked at Geralt. “But did you—”

“I did,” Geralt reassured him. He closed his eyes. “Witchers— I can’t produce much slick. No matter how much I want to.”

“Oh,” Jaskier said, his voice small.

Geralt took Jaskier’s hand back, began playing with his fingers. “I’m— I can’t carry. The Trials took that away, and they thought… they thought I wouldn’t be tempted to try, either, if it was harder for me to…” He trails off, gesturing at their bodies. “I’m broken. I’m sorry.”

Jaskier took him into his arms and hugged him tightly to his chest, his nose pressed against the crook of his neck, and felt Geralt’s shoulders release some of the tension they were holding. “I love you,” he murmured. “You. You’re not broken.” He kissed the top of his head. “I want you to feel good. To enjoy yourself.” He pulled back, meeting Geralt’s eyes. “You make me feel—” He spluttered, at a loss for eloquency, and it made Geralt laugh. “I don’t even have words for it. You make me feel incredible, love, and I only want the same for you.”

Geralt leaned his forehead against Jaskier’s. “Thank you,” he said, his voice small. “I do want your knot, though.”

Jaskier laughed, his thumb rubbing Geralt’s hip soothingly. “And I’d love to give it to you, any time, no questions asked,” he replied. “Is there something we could do?”

Geralt leaned back, sitting on Jaskier’s lap. They were touching everywhere, and Jaskier couldn’t get enough of it. “Oil could work. Takes too much time, though, and it— it doesn’t feel good.” He frowned. “We could… when my heat comes,” he said, awkwardly. “No way of telling when that would be, though.”

The sole mention of sharing Geralt’s heat made Jaskier’s Alpha preen. “You’d like that?”

Geralt nodded. “I would.” His shoulders slumped slightly. “I’m sorry it’s all I can offer you, Jask.”

Jaskier shook his head, his hands coming up to rest on either side of Geralt’s head. “You are enough,” he said. “All of you, always. Believe me” —he rocked his half-hard cock against Geralt’s thigh— “you will never leave me wanting. I want you because I love you, not because I want to fuck you.” Geralt smiled. “Which I do want to do, because you drive me insane— but I’d happily be by your side if all you ever wanted to do was kiss,” he said, and pressed a sweet kiss to Geralt’s lips to emphasize his point. “Because I love you.”

There was a faint blush on Geralt’s cheeks, and he smirked. “You’ve said.”

“And I hope you know I’ll never stop,” Jaskier replied, grinning. “I love you, I love you, I lo—”

Geralt had shut him up with a kiss of his own.

Seasons had passed, flowers had bloomed and empires had fallen, and they’d gotten creative. Geralt was insatiable, Jaskier had learned, and he’d discovered countless ways to make him come — on his fingers, on his mouth, rutting against his half-blown knot. Their scents were intermingled, now, sweet jasmine and olives entangled with leather and fresh bread.

“My heat is near,” Geralt whispered to him one night, pressed against his body as they were laying on their bedrolls.

“Yeah?” Jaskier replied, willing the thumping of his heart to slow down, even if Geralt would be able to tell anyway. “How near?”

Geralt rolled around to face him. “A week.”

Smiling softly, Jaskier pressed him closer, wrapping his arms around him and dropping a kiss on his temple. Tentatively, Geralt purred against him. “A week.”

As the days passed, Jaskier could feel Geralt grow more and more restless, pacing around their camp on nights when he had nothing else to do and kicking and thrashing in his sleep. His scent was changing, too, turning sweeter and heavier, making Jaskier dizzy whenever he caught a whiff of it.

He secured an inn room for them, his hard-earned coin going into the sticky hands of the innkeeper. Geralt had protested — had argued he could spend his heat in the forest, for crying out loud, but he’d taken one look at Jaskier and realized there would be no bargaining.

He hadn’t let Jaskier help with the nest, though. In fact, he’d made him leave the room — just outside, though, as he couldn’t stand it if Jaskier wandered too far — and had looked very sheepish as Jaskier had walked in again, his eyes falling on his arrangement. Jaskier had refrained from calling it adorable and shedding a tear or two, only because Geralt’s heat was hours away and he could not get his hands off him.

“I need you,” Geralt whined, already scrambling to get Jaskier’s clothes off. “Now.”

Not one to argue, Jaskier hurried to remove his doublet and chemise as Geralt hungrily tore at the knots on his trousers. Their mouths clashed against each other, hot and wet, as Geralt kissed him fiercely, Jaskier giving as good as he got. He got a hold of Geralt’s undershirt and took it off, tossing it on the floor, and his pants followed. He pulled back, and took a moment.

“What?” Geralt said, and Jaskier’s Alpha roared at the sight of him — fully nude and covered in a light sheen of sweat, the sunlight pouring from the closed window enveloping him in warmth, his flushed cheeks and tousled hair the picture of his dreams, his hard cocklet jutting against the cut of his abdomen, an inviting sight.

“Look at you,” Jaskier rumbled, his hands coming down to frame Geralt’s waist. Geralt let out a pitiful whine, embarrassed. “No, no— how could you be ashamed, when you look this beautiful.” He nosed at his throat, breathing in the sweet, ripe scent of him. “I want to eat you up.”

“Please.” Geralt pressed himself against Jaskier’s body, his cocklet rocking against Jaskier’s half-hard cock. “Please, Alpha.”

Any thread of sanity Jaskier had been holding onto snapped as he growled low in his throat in response, mouthing at Geralt’s shoulder, feeling the shudder that ran down his spine. “Geralt.”

“Yes, please, yes, Jaskier,” he panted. “Please.”

Pressing a tender kiss to his mouth, Jaskier led him to the bed. They fell against the soft, worn blankets, Geralt’s back pressed against them as his thighs winded around Jaskier’s waist.

“So eager,” he teased, but rocked down against Geralt. He pressed kisses to his mouth, his cheeks, his throat, any part of him he could reach as his fingers travelled down Geralt’s chest, down, down, down until he brushed against his cocklet, making him moan. “There you go,” he said, jerking him between his fingers. “Good boy.”

Geralt gasped at the praise, falling back against the mattress, boneless, as Jaskier pressed open-mouthed kisses down his body, following the invisible line his finger had drawn just a moment ago. “Such a good boy for me,” he murmured, reveling in the needy mewl it pulled out of his Witcher. “So beautiful.”

“Jask—” whatever Geralt wanted to say died in his throat as Jaskier licked a stripe up his cunt and his words dissolved into a punched-out moan. “F-fuck, Jask.”

Jaskier hummed against him, his tongue lapping gently against Geralt’s folds, the taste of his slick inundating his senses. He wasn’t dripping, not yet, but as Jaskier pressed his finger against Geralt’s opening, he could feel its warmth as it clenched around nothing. “So wet for me,” he panted, pressing a kiss to the curls just above his cocklet. “Such a pretty omega.”

“Jask,” Geralt moaned, his hand coming down to rest on Jaskier’s head as he continued lapping at his cunt, the filthy sounds of Geralt’s moans and his slick going straight to his cock where it hung heavy between his legs, neglected. Gently, Jaskier pushed his tongue against Geralt’s entrance, fucking him with shallow thrusts in a rhythm he knew drove Geralt crazy, delighted in the barely-there resistance he found as he pushed his tongue inside.

“I’m— Jask,” Geralt panted, his grip tight on Jaskier’s hair, “I’m gonna—”

Jaskier hummed against him, and that drove him over the edge. Geralt’s thighs pressed hard against Jaskier’s head, locking him in, his cunt clenching around nothing as his hips rocked forward against Jaskier’s tongue, little ah, ah, ah sounds being pulled out of him.

“So good,” Jaskier purred, his fingers rubbing soothing circles on Geralt’s thighs as his breaths evened out. Jaskier had always teased him for how useless he was rendered once he’d come, but the scent of his heat was thick and heavy around them, and he could see in Geralt’s eyes that he wouldn’t be sleeping any time soon. Good, his Alpha rumbled, let’s keep our pretty mate awake.

Jaskier shook his head, willing his possessive Alpha away. Geralt wasn’t his — as much as he’d wanted to — and he wasn’t going to be yet another knotheaded alpha who couldn’t keep his teeth to himself.

“Hey,” Geralt said softly, bringing him out of his reverie. He was looking at him with tenderness in his eyes. “C’mere.”

Jaskier went happily, his mouth finding Geralt’s in a slow, deep kiss. He swallowed Geralt’s moan as he tasted himself in his mouth, his fingers brushing lightly against Geralt’s soft stomach.

He grinned when he felt Geralt whine.

“Desperate already?”

In response, Geralt flipped them around, positioning himself above Jaskier as he ground down against him. His cocklet was rock-hard again, brushing against Jaskier’s leaking cock, making him moan.

“You feel so good, pup,” he managed, his hands resting on Geralt’s hips, not guiding, simply holding. “So— fuck, so perfect.”

Geralt bent down to kiss him, filthy and hard, and suddenly the movement stopped. Jaskier was about to complain when Geralt lifted himself up a bit, and Jaskier felt his dripping cunt grind against the base of his cock.

“Fuck, Geralt— fuck.” The pressure on his aching knot made his eyes roll back in his head with pleasure, and fuck— Geralt’s cunt was wet and soft against him as he moved up and down. They both moaned as, on a well-aimed thrust, the head of Jaskier’s cock caught on Geralt’s opening.

“Jaskier,” his Witcher panted, and there was a needy edge to his voice, “please.”

“What do you want?” Jaskier asked, out of breath himself, his hands running up and down Geralt’s sides as he rocked his length against Geralt.

Geralt whined. “You.”

“You’ll need— ah— to be more specific, dear.”

“I want— fuck,” Geralt shuddered. “I need your knot.”

Jaskier was a mere mortal, after all. In a swift movement, he pressed two of his fingers to Geralt’s sopping cunt, rubbing his entrance just to get him used to the feeling. He was used to it — had come on Jaskier’s fingers rubbing against him more than once — but Jaskier needed to be sure.

“C’mon, I’m good, please.” Jaskier pressed his fingers inside, punching out a groan out of his Witcher, who rocked down on his fingers as deep as he could go. “More,” he pleaded, and Jaskier could do nothing more than comply.

With three fingers deep inside of him, Geralt deemed himself ready. “Now, Jaskier, please.”

Jaskier used his slicked-up hand to smooth over his cock, and Geralt whined at the loss, chanting feverishly, “Please Alpha, please, I need your knot, want it so bad, I need—”

“Geralt,” Jaskier said, reaching for a kiss. Geralt melted against him, and Jaskier positioned him over his swollen cock. “Ready?”

Geralt clawed at his back. “Yes, yes, please—”

In one smooth motion, Jaskier entered him. It felt heavenly, the wet warmth enveloping him and swallowing him whole, the feeling of Geralt’s body against him, sweaty and wound-up and perfect, his needy mewls coming out of his chest unbidden. He reveled in it.

But then, Geralt started to move, and whatever ode Jaskier had been composing in his head flew out of the window, because this— this made Jaskier sob, for there was nothing like it.

Jaskier leaned back against the blankets and watched, enraptured, as Geralt bounced up and down on his cock, and it was filthy — the way his hair was messy and disheveled, his cheeks dark red and his eyes shut with pleasure — but it was also oh so tender, watching him chase his release with abandon.

“Fuck, Jask,” Geralt moaned, his hands on Jaskier’s chest as he picked up speed, Jaskier’s swollen knot catching on his entrance. Slick was dripping down his thighs. “Feel so good.”

Jaskier groaned, his orgasm building up inside him. “Geralt, dear— fucking Melitele— fuck, I’m not going to last.”

“Good,” Geralt purred, his pace never faltering. “Give me your knot, Alpha.”

And oh, how Jaskier wanted to. Still, “Are you sure?”

Geralt slowed down the slightest bit, and pressed a soft kiss to Jaskier’s lips. “I’m sure,” he said. “I love you.”

Jaskier pushed his knot inside as he came with a groan. All he could think of was Geralt, Geralt, Geralt, as he felt him clench down on his knot, milking him. “Fuck, Geralt—”

“Yes, yes, good Alpha,” Geralt chanted, reaching down between his legs and rubbing his leaking cocklet. “Jaskier—”

He kept coming, pumping Geralt full of it, and the thought made him shudder. “My sweet omega, so beautiful, so good to me—”

Geralt came with a cry, his hips stuttering and pushing Jaskier’s knot deeper inside him. It dragged a moan out of Jaskier, feeling the tie tug against him, and Geralt collapsed on top of him.

Gently, and with as much care as he could manage, Jaskier arranged them on their sides. They moaned as the movement tugged on Jaskier’s knot, and Jaskier pressed a kiss to Geralt’s temple, his arms wrapped around him.

“Geralt,” he whispered.

“Mmm.”

Jaskier laughed, dazed. “Love.”

“Mmmmmmm.”

Ah, useless after coming. “How do you feel?”

Geralt pressed back against him, clenching weakly around him. “Good,” he rasped. “So good.”

Jaskier hummed behind him, pressing soft kisses on his shoulder, his neck, his cheek. “I’m glad.”

Geralt turned his head, reaching for a kiss. Jaskier gave it to him. “I love you,” he whispered against his lips, and Jaskier felt his heart leap in his chest.

“I love you too,” he answered.

Geralt watched him through half-lidded eyes. It made Jaskier laugh. “Go to sleep, old man.”

Geralt frowned at him, then clenched hard, making Jaskier gasp.

“You—” Jaskier hissed, “are lucky you’re pretty.”

Geralt closed his eyes, smug, and nestled himself against Jaskier, kneading at the blankets.

“Sleep,” Jaskier murmured. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Geralt’s scent spiked with lust. “Gather your strength,” he mumbled sleepily. “You’ll need it.”

[lailoken]

“:Pharmacopoeia: [Pt. 2]

Acacia (Acacia spp.). The Blossoms, as well as the Leaves of Our Tree, may be added to the bathwater for the magical work of Fortification, or nourishing and strengthening the Mind and Spirit. 55 grams of the fresh blooms, steeped in one litre of boiling water for 20 minutes, provides a virtuous Balneum.

Basil (Ocimum basilicum, O. sanctum). A Bath made from strong infusions of Fresh Basil is a superior Solar Rite of Self-Love. The friendly Genius of this plant aids in fortifying Courage and Will, as well as lending clarity of Mind. For this purpose, steep two handfuls of fresh sprigs, leaves, and flowers in one litre of boiling water for 20 minutes before straining and adding to the bath. Stronger infusions lend more power, especially when the spicy leaves are employ'd as a scrub. Basil is efficacious for charms drawing lovers, or money.

Broom (Cytisus spp.). Regard'd as a pest by farmers and some botanists, our Herb makes for a virtuous lustration. In particular, it owns the powers of obsta- cle-breaking and motivation, and is specially good at disrupting inertia. For a hot bath, steep between 150- 250 dried blossoms or approximately 300 fresh in 1.5 litres of boiling water. After steeping 30 minutes, strain and add to the bath.

Calamus (Acorus calamus). Our Root may pleasingly be added to ritual baths prior to magical workings, especially those involving sexual magics or oracular work. Calamus has strong affinities with the water element and was employed in the Herb-sorcery of ancient Egypt and Sumer. Harvesting the fresh root from bog or marsh is preferred, as the spicy root-odour is so much more alluring fresh than the rank, wither'd nubs from the Apothecary's jar! For a strong decoction, employ 33 grams of the fresh Root, or 50 of the dried; bring to a boil in one litre of water, and steep for 15 minutes. Most Essential Oil of Calamus commonly available is of dubious quality. Let the Skill'd One distill oil from living, vigourous roots and use sparingly in Bath and Balm.

Carnation (Dianthus spp.). Gillyflowers, as Carnations were known to the medieval apothecary, are an excellent agent of simultaneous Exorcism and Invigoration, a friendly spirit most pleasing to the gods. Carnation baths prior to works of High Magick rival both Agrimony and Vervain in efficacy. Of fragrant carnation, take 40 blossoms and infuse in a litre of cold water for 3-5 hours. Add this infused water, along with the flowers themselves and a few fresh ones, to a lukewarm or cool bath. Employ the flowers to scrub the body.

Chamomile (Matricaria recutita). Perhaps the most comforting Herb taken as a bath, Chamomile is excellent for reducing trauma, and may be considered an elemental correspondence of the Watery Part of Earth temper'd by the Warm Virtues of Sol. For a healthful slumber or to relieve extreme nervous tension, a bath may be made with the fragrant blossoms, and will readily offer its Gifts. Use 50 g. of the flowers steeped in 1 litre of boiling water. A strong infusion of the golden Blossoms makes an excellent traditional gambling potion for washing the hands prior to throwing dice or cards. If using Essential Oil of Blue Chamomile, add 3-5 drops to the bath, increasing as desired.

Chaste Berry ( Vitex agnus-castus). The Candomblè abô, or sacred baths, employ various species of Vitex against the Evil Eye; 'tis also esteem'd as a suffumigant. Of the dried or fresh berries, use a decoction of 18 g. of the Herb to 450 ml. boiling water. Of the leaves, use 33 grams in 650 millilitres of water.

Cinnamon (Cinnamomum zeylanicum). The Genius of Our Bark invigorates and fortifies, but it is especially skilled at promoting the powers of Harmony. Thus a Cinnamon ablution serves prior to a confrontation where a harmonious outcome is desired. Other excellent uses for this bath are as a preparation for Sexual Magic workings with a partner, or for fertility rites of conception. For a Cinnamon bath, make a strong decoction of 60 grams of crumbled twigs or chips in 550 millilitres of water. Avoid the Essential Oil as it is a dermal irritant and lacks certain Virtues of the Genius present only in the bark.

Cymbopogon (Cymbopogon spp.) A fragrant and wondrous plant genus which includes a number of different species of fragrant, tropical grasses. Three are widely known and prais'd, especially in the form of their Essential Oils rendered up as True Gold by fractional distillation; these are Lemon Grass (Cymbopogon citratus), Palmarosa (Cymbopogon martinii), and Citronella (Cymbopogon nar-dus). All bear exquisite perfume and are suit'd to cleansing of the Oratory as well as the Brethren and Sisters of the Wise who enter the Temple. For infusions, use 44 grams of chopp'd rhizome and grass to 600 millilitres boiling water, steeped thirty minutes. The Oleum Essentia may be used freely in Compound'd Mists.

Douglas Fir (Pseudotsuga menzesii). Not a True Fir in botanical nomenclature, Our Tree is nevertheless a fast-growing evergreen conifer with an Eager Spirit of Cleansing. Native to North America, it is now widely cultur'd for its versatile timber. Its pitch excels as a fumigant and the citrus-odour'd Leaves make an excellent Philtre of Cleansing and Exorcism. Several American Indian nations in the Tree's native range traditionally employ'd a decoction of the branches and twigs as a purifying body-wash in sweathouse rites. For a wash or asperge, a strong decoction may be made with a generous handful of the pulverized leaves or green branches boil'd twenty minutes in 650 millilitres of water and strained. These potent leaves render up their Goodness in tincture by means of Aqua Angelis; indeed, the Green Magus skill'd in extractions will know this to be true.

Fir (Abies spp.). The leaves -needles, as they are known- are employ'd for their magical properties of Illumination and Inspiration. Several handfuls of the young shoots may be decocted in a litre of water. This is an appropriate ablution for rites of Pan, especially if the sorcerer is to invoke the rustic god, for this is His Tree. If employing essential oil of Fir, begin with 3 drops in bathwater.

Geranium, Scent'd (Pelargonium spp.). Scent'd Geraniums proceed forth from the Mansions of the Greenwood like a parade of fair-odourd jewels, remarkable in beauty and divers aromas. Almost all species of Pelargonium wield potencies of Banishing and Exorcism, and simultaneously the Power of Brightening: these spirits encourage great cheer unto all wherever their virtues extend. Rose, citrus, mint, nutmeg, pine, and even chocolate-scent'd varieties may be found, having unique aromatic notes that provoke, in addition to the aforemention'd qualities, a most unsettling Strangeness of Thought. One handful of the whole leaves, infused in 600 millilitres boiling water, produces a fragrant and potent liquid useful against noisome spirits. Tincture freely.

Hops (Humulus lupulus). Baths of the Herb are, in general, soporific and useful to allay Moods. A bath made with 50 grams of the dried fragrant blossoms, steeped in a litre of boiling water, will provide calm. However, by acquaintance with a friendly hop-farmer, or tending the Vine oneself, one may make use of the spicy blossoms, peerless newly-gather'd, and in no way compare to the inferior dried Herb, many of whose Virtues have fled upon dessication.

Hyssop (Hyssopus officinalis). Ours is an Herb of the Mint Family possessing supreme antibacterial virtues. Hyssop was used, in times of European plague, along with Juniper, for strewing and combatting the Vapours of Affliction. It has a long history of being used to consecrate spaces and persons prior to magical workings. An ancient recipe for Hyssop Water, used for purification of the Sorcerer prior to the Work, is made thus: "A bunch of vervain, fennel, lavender, sage, valerian, mint, garden basil, rosemary, and hyssop gathered in the day and hour of Mercury, bound together with a thread, spun by a young maiden, when dipped in water and sprinkled, will chase away all phantoms that shall hinder or annoy." A simpler infusion may be made with 40 grams of the Herb steep'd in I litre of boiling water.

Jasmine (Jasminum officinale). The Jasmine belongs to the Olive family, known as Oleaceae, from which so many beneficial and virtuous Herbs proceed, so we may take refuge in its noble lineage. When considering the types of magic Jasmine may be put to in sorcery, Lust and magnification of the Sexual powers are first and foremost. For men, this is the Spirit of Satyros; for women, the charms of the Nymphae. For magics of Attraction it is unparallel'd, as well as in Sexual or Nubility rites. Unfortunately, the range of the plant is very limited, and in northern latitudes must be grown in a glasshouse. One may employ the oil, known as Jasmine Absolute, in the quantity of drops per 100 litres of water (Jasmine absolute is costly; thus the oil amount is also a consideration of frugality) or, if access to a blooming Jasmine is assured, about 80 flowers added directly to the bath. Two false-Jasmines are worth mentioning, as both have similar, though less pronounced, magical virtues as the classic Jasmine. The first is a hardy plant known Star Jasmine (Trachelospermum jasminoides); the second is Potato Jasmine (Solanum jasminoides). Both may commonly be found at nurseries. Of the two, the former has a richer and more complex scent. Both plants are prolific bloomers in a variety of cultural conditions. For a hot bath, use at least 75 blossoms of Star Jasmine; or at least 100 of Solanaceous Jasmine. For a cold bath, knead 30-100 flowers of each kind into four litres of water and pour liberally on head and body, letting the perfumed waters air-dry on the skin.

Juniper (Juniperus spp.) For treating nervous conditions, a bath made with the Berries and fronds is much esteemed. A handful or two of the fresh, pulverized Shoots and Fruits may be ground and placed in a cheesecloth bag and add'd to the hot water of an ablution, several minutes before entering. Dried leaves may be used as well; a purposeful decoction can be made from 33 grams of the dried leaves, simmered in 1.5 litres of water for 20 minutes.

Larch (Larix spp.). Rare though the tree is in the literature of sorcery, its virtues should not be overlooked by those living beneath its branches. A strong spirit of Courage, Triumph, and Protection, the Genius of the Larix will stoutly defend all who are its allies. An ablution of Larch leaves is noted for its properties of Centering and Inspiration, as well as Fortifying and Invigorating the spirit of the warrior riding into battle. Make a decoction using 1.5 litres of boiling water, in which are simmer'd 85 grams of the young shoots, well-chopped, for twenty minutes. Strain the brew and add to the bath. Galangal (Kaempheria galanga ; Alpinia galanga). Washing one's hands in a tea brewed from Galangal root is a potent charm for success in gambling, as Root Doctors and other Voudou sorcerers know. The Root's magical provenance of empowering the Derma is, in a similar way, hail'd by Ritual Magicians who blend its Oleum Essentia into the famed Oil of Abramelin. For use as a potion or hand-wash, employ 40 grams of the fresh Root in 1 litre of water; bring to boil, then simmer in a covered vessel for 15-20 minutes. If circumstances force use of the dried Root, employ double the amount, as many of the virtues have, by this time, escaped into the aethyrs. For ablutions prior to magical rites, the amount may be increased greatly according to Need.

Maize (Zea mays). A number of Yoruba-derived religions in the Americas employ Maize as an Ally for women in childbirth. In Candomblè abô, Maize is sometimes added to the bathwater. Sweet corn may be knead'd in cold water for an Enchanted Bath that summons all the good things provided by the Sun and Jove; such magics might encompass general Beneficence, Healing, or the sudden influx of monies, goods, or knowledge.

Mint (Mentha spp.) The Herb is easily grown and readily dominates moist ground. Strong infusions are an excellent feature of a cleansing brew or as an adjunct with other Herbs. Peppermint and Spearmint are very easily found, the former being somewhat more aggressive in magical action. Infuse 80 grams of the fresh, chopp'd Herb in 1 litre of boiling water for twenty minutes, using a plant press to press the marc dry.

Orange (Citrus aurantium). For the purpose of an enchanted Bath, three parts needs concern us. The first is the fragrant leaf, whose goodness reaches its peak just prior to flowering. These leaves, crush'd, steeped in cold water, added to the bath, promote much of the same simultaneous relaxation and stimulation as does Lavender, but with a Solar, rather than a Mercurial, emphasis. 150-200 grams of the fresh leaves, mashed in a solitary litre of lukewarm or cool water, suffices to provoke a most pleasant perfume. The gentle flowers, also called Neroli, may be added to the Bath in the quantity of 50-90 blossoms: it is recommended that they be added directly to the water, and their petals used to scrub the body. Their virtues tend toward Beauty, Invigoration, Fortification, and Lust. The rind of the fruit also possesses much virtue and may be made into a hot infusion, to bring Joviality or thwart rude spirits. Employ 100 grams of the rind, steeped in 1 litre of boiling water for 30 minutes. Scrupulously avoid using citrus Essential Oils in the bath: it can irritate the Derma and increase photosensitivity.

Pennyroyal (Mentha pulegium). Another True Mint, Pennyroyal exceeds in cleansing virtue both Spearmint and Peppermint, and possesses a vigilant warrior Genius which gleefully annihilates flocculum abomini. In this, she is best used as an Asperge, Wash or Mist. Similar in many ways to Hyssop, her principles are well-retain'd in tincture, though infusions are also impeccable. The sorcerer is enjoin'd to employ the whole herb when flowering, as the blossoms provide added banishing vigour, without compromising the integrity of the Leaf. 50 grams of well-leav'd infloresences, cut and mashed, steep'd in a litre of boiling water for twenty minutes, yields a masterful infusion. As the Herb has strong action on the Womb, baths of Pennyroyal should be avoided by pregnant women as a general precaution. Pennyroyal gives a fine tincture, especially in ethanol exceeding the proof of 100.

Pericon (Tagetes lucida). Decoctions of the fragrant plant have been used for healing and purifying baths, but it is difficult to procure outside Mexico. As this is an Herb with a potent and varied magical pedigree, seeds are worth seeking, so invite this marvelous Green Spirit into the magical garden. A decoction may be made using 50 grams of the fresh, chopped herb, including the stems and whole blossoms, in one litre of water. Boil and simmer in a covered vessel for 5 minutes, allowing the decoction to sit off the fire for an additional ten minutes. Of greater excellence is a strong infusion, employing 100 leaves steeped in 350 millilitres of boiling water.

Pine (Pinus spp.). To convoke the genii of the Imaginal Mind, an invigorating Bath may be made with the young shoots. Several handfuls, after they have been truly ground, may be add'd to the hot bathwater some minutes before 'immer- sion. For a Balneum of superior strength, simmer 65 grams of fresh, chopp'd Pine needles in 1.5 litres of water for 20 minutes; strain, and add to bath.

Rose (Rosa spp.). A warm or cold infusion of the petals may be used for Ablutions of Fortification, that is to say, beautification, and the gentle but potent repair of injured psychic structures. Rose may also be employed in the magical manner of Balm of Gilead, a rare and precious resin now virtually impossible to obtain, known for its powers of consolation to the Heart. Roses may be used fresh or in the form of Rose Water; Rose Absolute may augment the Balneum in the quantity of a half dozen to ten drops in the hot water. Rose water is a supreme Asperge, especially for purposes of Consecration, and may be used in the form of a Mist. Rose water or Hydrosol are readily available. A Compound'd Mist may be made using the Standard Formula with 4 drops Otto of Rose.

Rosemary (Rosmarinus officinalis). In general, this Herb has a strong and ancient association with mankind, and has serv'd as an Ally in many Endeavours. It is abhorrent to most Foul Spirits and entirely appropriate for their dispersion. For treating nervous conditions, a bath made with the fragrant Leaves, has been much esteem'd, and if flowers be gathered in sufficient quantity, their powers exceed that of the Leaves by a factor of three. A hearty infusion is generated of 70 grams of chopp'd sprigs to 800 millilitres of boiling water, steeped for half an hour. Better still is the Essential Oil, extracted by one's own cunning or obtain'd from a good distiller. A Compound Mist of Rosemary is made by dissolving 40 drops of Essential Oil of Rosemary in a single fluid ounce of Perfumer's Alcohol, then adding 80 ml. of distill'd water. This may be mixed and added to the Atomizer. To commune with Rosemary Spirits, retire at sunset to a candlelit bath chamber, drawing the hottest water possible. Burn dried rosemary leaves and wood continually as an incense of beckoning pleasing to the plant. Into the water pour two litres of masterfully-strong decoction of the plant's leaves and flowers, as well as five large Rosemary branches, freshly cut, leaving some hardwood and greenwood stem in the water. Immerse into this Fragrant Potion, covering as much of the body as possible, beckoning the plant as the Mind is subsumed by Green Reverie.

Rue (Ruta gravaeolens). Rue has an ancient magical pedigree of exorcism and protection from Maleficia, especially the Evil Eye. Baths of strong Rue infusions are useful for persons harass'd in the night hours by unwanted spirits. Conversely, in some streams of popular lore, sorcerers of malign intent utilized Rue in potions to effect destructive magic. Our Herb works as a hot infusion, added to a hot bath, or a cold infusion, kneaded in water and poured over the body. For the former, steep 50 grams of Rue in 1.5 litres of boiling water for 30 minutes, then strain and add to the bath. For a cold bath, knead 65 grams of fresh Rue in 2-3 litres of water in the Ritual Bowl for 20-30 minutes, invoking the Genius of the Herb as the leaves are shredded. This philtre should then be poured solemnly over head and body in small cupfuls. As an herbal medicament Rue possesses abortifacient properties; pregnant women should avoid a Balneum with strong Rue content, as it may adversely affect some sensitive individuals.

Sage (Salvia officinalis). Harvested fresh, well-steep'd, strained and added to the Bath, Culinary Sage is an impeccable friend for the magical purposes of Illumination. Of the fresh or dried leaves, one should steep 55 grams in a litre of boiling water. It is advised that for longer, more deeply-focused Baths, one may wish to burn the dried leaves as an accompanying incense. Sage wood and twigs contain additional virtues especially suited for Determination and Focus; these may be decocted in a ratio of 30-50 grams of the twigs to 1 litre of water. Other Sage species, while their Genii vary considerably, are also appropriate for Illuminating and Fortifying Work, such as White Sage (Salvia apiana); Pineapple Sage (Salvia elegans); and Black Sage (Salvia mellifera), the latter resonating with Cain of the Forge.

Sagebrush (Artemisia spp.). Verily, without doubt, and truly: Our Gray Lady of the Waste is a peerless Ally for driving off rank Ghosts of Offense. Numerous species of desert Artemisia are all known as Sagebrush. A number of North American nations used various species of wild sagebrush as a cleansing bath, sometimes following the Sun Dance, or in sweat lodges. Many tribes burned the plant at the beginning of ceremonies, to both purify and "open the ways". A philtre from the Herb may be made by way of Solar infusion: put 40 grams of the fresh Herb into a 1-litre jar, fill with water, and allow to steep in the sun at least 5 hours. This should then be strain'd and used at room temperature to wash the body, much in the manner of Rue. For a traditional bath, steep 60 grams of the fresh Herb in a litre of boiling water for 20 minutes. Strain and add to bath.

Sassafras (Sassafras albidum). Prior to entering situations in which one will assuredly be under spiritual attack, a Balneum of Sassafras Leaves will provide a protective armour. Use 40 grams of the dried leaves steeped in 1 litre of boiling water for 45 minutes, or better still, knead 80 leaves in 3 litres of cold water. The bark is also efficacious; decoct 20 grams in 750 millilitres of water for 20 minutes. Avoid the Essential Oil for all but the most powerful Asperges.

Spruce (Picea spp.). A strong decoction of 75 grams of the fresh, pulverized shoots may be added to the hot water of the Balneum; in this way the Genius of the plant will especially grant the powers of Illumination. Such baths with Spruce are naturally balancing to the body's streams of power, and stimulate the nerves. Virtuous floor-washes can be brewed with Branches of Spruce for purifying funerary rites, keeping the ghost of the deceased from lingering. In Sweden, Spruce needles are placed as a Ward outside a church to keep trolls away. The fresh leaves, chopped and beaten, may be drown'd in Perfumer's Alcohol for one lunation, yielding an Emerald Essence of great savour to the Nose and Spirit. The beneficence of this Philtre where routing septic spiritual matter is concern'd is readily demonstrated. Strong infusions or decoctions of Spruce, also excel as asperges prior to collective works of magic.

Tobacco (Nicotiana spp.). Decoctions or infusions of varying strengths may be used. The chief powers lent are the attraction of Beneficent Spirits, the type of which may be of aid in all manner of sorcery, but particularly those imparting informations from the depths of the Astral Well; or those promoting the increase of Wealth. Those bearing the Arms of the Warrior are advised that one may also conjure, with Our Good Leaf, the principalities resonant with the acts of Conquest and Acquisition, or Mars in Good Favour with Saturn. For ablutions, the preferr'd method is to employ 65 grams of the fresh leaves, knead'd in 2 litres of cold water, steeping for half an hour, then employ'd in a cold bath.

Valerian (Valeriana officianalis). A strong decoction of the fragrant, chopped Root may be employed for a Purification or Relaxation bath. Use 20 grams of the dried Root to 750 millilitres of water, simmered for 20 minutes. If, by the good graces of the spirits, the plant dwells within thy Medicine Garden, there is no more pleasant a Root-Bath than that freshest radix given us by Valeriana; 33 grams, mashed well, infused into a 450 millilitres of hot water, and a similar amount infused in cold water, adding both to the bath.

Vervain ( Verbena spp.). A certain folk potion of Old known as Juno's Tears was made from Vervain steeped in water; the resulting extraction was used for house-cleansing, and possessed an uncanny aptitude for chasing Noxious Spirits. When the fresh plant is employ'd, a quantity of flowering tops in the amount of 30 grams should be used, well-steeped in 800 millilitres of boiling water for half an hour. The herb merchant generally sells Vervain in its dried form, the Leaf being cut and sifted, but with blossoms absent. Of dried Vervain, use 45 grams in a litre of boiling water, steeped 30 minutes.

Wormwood (Artemisia absinthium spp.). A fragrant plant of the Sunflower kin, Our Herb makes a fine restorative Balneum. 50 grams of the plant, with fresh, flowering tops preferred, steeped in one and one half litres of boiling water for the space of 20 minutes, creates an ablution that aids in helping the Flights of Mind achieve concrescence. In accordance, this bath is esteemed for divination, wherein Spirit becomes flesh in the form of a Hallow'd Sign. All Artemisia species are hallowed unto Lilith, and especially Dragon Worwmood (Artemisia dracunculus), known to the vulgar as Tarragon. According to lore, this plant sprouted on the ground trodden by the Crafty Old Serpent after he was expel- I'd from the Garden. Dragon Wormwood and Absinthe Wormwood are both appropriate herbs for dedicatory baths unto Liliya.”

—

‘5: Of The Balneum Sagax’

Ars Philtron:

Concerning the Aqueous Cunning of the Potion and its Praxis in the Green Arte Magical

by Daniel A. Schulke

[kythed]

“you can hear it in the silence” - a collection of conversations between you and futakuchi kenji. 

1. april 14th, 7:56pm.

“it’s terribly boring, isn’t it?” the voice comes from right near your ear. you start, turning to see a young guy dressed in jeans, a tee, and a baseball cap, slouchy and messy in the most attractive and purposeful way. “the movie, I mean.”

you turn your eyes back towards the screen — some spanish neo-noir retelling of the same old “sexpot femme fatale turned domestic by a dashing hero with a horse” plotline. “yeah, it is. I only came so my film major friends would finally respect me.”

“that’s valid,” he whispers with a snort. an older man sitting beside him shushes him. “I only came so I could make fun of the people who only came to impress their film major friends.”

“oh, ouch,” you say, grinning. “way to attack like 90% of the foreign film audience.” 

“I’d say it’s something more like 97%, actually,” he says, briefly glancing at the movie. the dark haired, sultry love interest is batting her lashes at the brooding protagonist, nightgown slipping off her shoulder. “the remaining 3% is horny teenagers who can’t yet figure out how to erase their search history.” 

despite being in the middle of a crowded theater, you laugh, giggle echoing off the walls. several people turn around to shoot you dirty looks, and you immediately clap an apologetic over your mouth. oops.

“I’m kenji futakuchi,” your seat-neighbor whispers, extending a hand. “unprofessional film critic, engineering major, and thai tea hater. I’m willing to take you out for boba on our first date, but if you order thai tea it will also be our last.” 

“bold of you to assume we’ll even have a first date,” you say, shaking his hand with another quiet laugh. 

“oh, we will,” he says with what can only be described as a bona fide smirk. “I saw the way you were looking at me earlier.” 

before you can respond, the curmudgeonly old man beside kenji leans over and scowls. “if you kids want to keep flirting, do so outside. some of us are here for cultural enrichment.” 

kenji glances at you, face spelling out mischief. “you heard the man. shall we?” 

for a moment, you consider saying no. but then reason kicks into gear and you stand up, dusting popcorn off your lap. “we shall.” 

(discovery number one: your hand fits perfectly in his.)

2. may 2nd, 11:17am. 

“you know, this actually isn’t so bad.” kenji takes another cautious sip. “still can’t hold a candle to jasmine.”

“I respect that,” you say, offering him a taste of your drink. “I feel like everyone who hates thai tea is just jumping on the bandwagon. it’s pretty decent.”

“you’re pretty decent,” he says petulantly, snatching your tea and replacing it with his own. 

you roll your eyes. “your comebacks suck. still can’t believe I agreed to go out with you.” 

kenji feigns a look of surprise. “oh, are we going out? I thought this was a platonic thing.” 

you send a pointed look at his hand resting on your thigh, his thumb rubbing light circles in your skin. 

kenji follows your gaze and suppresses a smile, shrugging. “friends do that.” 

it’s a cool spring day, the air smelling of his cologne — vanilla, coffee, and burnt orange — and the eucalyptus growing in front of the cafe. the sunshine is fresh and pale, casting a glowy halo over kenji’s brunette mess of hair. he smiles rather angelically, as if he knows exactly what you’re thinking. 

“and do friends do this?” you say softly, leaning forward so your nose is just centimeters from his. 

kenji gulps, adam’s apple bobbing painfully in his throat. his voice cracks with his next words. “y-yeah. I do this with my buddies all the time. no homo.” 

you slowly bring your hand up to cup his jaw, letting your eyes linger on his lips before glancing back up and smiling. “oh, good. ‘cause I do this with my girls all the time, too. full homo.” 

“yeah?”

“mhm,” you purr, trying to channel some of that femme fatale energy, leaning even closer so you can feel his warm breath on your mouth — and then you pull away with a cackle, leaving kenji blinking down at you with reproach.

“women are so cruel,” he sighs wistfully, fanning his shirt and running a hand through his hair. 

“sorry,” you chirp, not sorry at all. “I don’t kiss on the first date.” 

“you don’t kiss on the first date?” kenji repeats. “so what’s the timeline — we hold hands today, and then you let me hug you next week, and then we kiss in a month, and then in like fifty years we finally fu—” 

“kenji!” you say, whipping around. you’re scandalized. there’s a family with primary school aged kids sitting at the other table, shrieking with laughter and bouncing around like pinballs on a boba-fueled sugar high. “keep it PG.” 

“I wasn’t gonna say anything bad,” kenji complains. “I was just gonna say that in fifty years we finally, uh… furbish the condo we purchase together.” 

“sure you were,” you say, and kenji just laughs. there’s something in the way he looks at you… something soft and affectionate that makes you think he might actually intend to stick around for fifty years. it scares you a little — but in a good way. 

later that day, when kenji drops you off at your front porch, you lean forward again. usually you keep your word, but today’s an exception. 

(discovery number two: he tastes like colgate and thai tea.)

3. august 21st, 8:02am. 

“what the hell,” you cough, squinting through the smoke. you can barely hear yourself over the shrill beeping of the fire alarm resounding around your apartment. “kenji?”

kenji emerges from behind the fridge, nonchalantly leaning on the wall with a nervous smile. “hey, baby. sleep well?”

“don’t you ‘hey, baby’ me, mister,” you say, marching forward, fanning the smoke away with your oversized sleep shirt. (well, technically it’s his shirt, and that’s why it’s oversized. it fits perfectly fine on him.) “what in the world did you do?” 

“why is it that when something goes wrong you always automatically blame me?” he complains, coughing. 

“because it’s always your fault,” you say, gently but firmly pushing him aside to reveal, sitting innocently on the counter… a smoking toaster with two pieces of bread (burnt nearly completely black) resting in the slots. oh lord. “kenji. babe. darling.”

“ooh, keep going, please,” kenji coos, yelping when you lightly pinch his elbow. “hey!” 

he’s about to retaliate before you double over in laughter, holding onto the edge of the kitchen counter for support. you choke out giggles between breaths, hardly able to keep balance. “you — (wheeze) — you nearly burnt down the kitchen — (wheeze) — trying to make toast?” 

“it’s not as easy as it looks,” kenji insists, gingerly picking the slices of bread (although they’re more like crackers now) out from the toaster. “I’m sorry that I wanted to do something nice for my beautiful girlfriend. and I’m sorry that the only thing I could handle was toast and coffee. well, technically just coffee, I guess.” 

he picks up a mug from the counter and offers it to you. “it might be kinda cold now. sorry. I tried.”

he’s so earnest and adorable and lovely in that moment — standing in the middle of the clouded kitchen in just mismatched socks and an old pair of boxers, holding the coffee out for you to see — that you can hardly contain yourself. 

“god, I love you,” you say without thinking, the last word catching in your throat as you look up. oh. oops. kenji’s staring at you, unblinking, big brown eyes filled with… surprise? “I mean, I meant —”

“you love me?” 

“I, uh,” you falter. this isn’t you; you’re supposed to be the calm and collected one. “this isn’t how I wanted to say it, but—”

“but you do, right? you love me?” kenji sets the mug back down and pulls you in by the waist, grinning broadly and resting his forehead against yours. your heart is pulsing erratically, but a smile big enough to match his somehow finds its way onto your face. you nod, and kenji immediately kisses you hard, tangling his fingers in the back of your hair. 

“I love you,” he says breathlessly after finally parting. you feel the uncomfortable warmth of your face and the swollenness of your lips... but you can’t quite bring yourself to care. “I love you a lot.” 

“you love me so much that you even tried to make me toast,” you laugh. “and you brought me cold coffee in my second favorite mug.” 

“no, wait,” says kenji, glancing back towards said mug. “that’s your favorite mug.”

“no, my favorite is the green one with the—”

“—with the orange flowers,” kenji groans in realization, slapping a limp, penitent hand to his cheek. “I’m a failure of a boyfriend. I deserve to go to boyfriend jail.” 

“you do,” you agree, nodding solemnly. “but lucky for you, I have a get-out-of-jail-free card right here.”

“oh?” says kenji, a devilish smile quirking up the corners of his lips. 

you hum and offer him your clenched fist, like you’re about to place something in his palm. but when he extends his own outstretched hand, you interlace your fingers with his instead. “yep. right here.” 

“you think you’re so clever,” kenji sighs, nonetheless bringing your hand up to press a brief kiss to your knuckles. 

“I do.” you shuffle towards the counter to take a sip of the coffee — sure enough, it’s cold. (but he still made it exactly the way you like it.) “c’mon. breakfast.” 

(discovery number three: burnt toast doesn’t taste so bad when you eat it with someone you love.)

4. november 1st, 10:38pm.

the commute across town from your university to your apartment is on the longer side, around forty minutes. it feels even longer late at night, though, on your way home from your part time job. 

the subway rattles on its tracks as it slows to rest at a stop (but not yours) and a handful of sleepy passengers stumble out, swinging briefcases and pulling their scarves a little tighter. you stifle a yawn, slumping back into your seat. 

“you okay?” 

you smile. ever since you got hired a couple months ago, kenji’s insisted on coming to “pick you up” from work to take the train back with you, even though he works all the way across town. (he’ll probably stay the night — he has a drawer full of his things at your place these days, complete with a dozen wrinkled t-shirts, old soccer shorts, and a bundle of irreparably tangled chargers. he hasn’t bothered to bring his own shampoo over yet, though, claiming that “yours smells so nice and fruity” and “men’s shampoo just smells like nondescript testosterone and insecurity.” he’s right of course, but all the same, you’d rather he not use up all of yours.) 

“yeah, I’m okay,” you sigh, taking his hand and feeling him begin to rub circles on your palm. you close your eyes. “just tired.” 

“hi ‘okay-just-tired,’ I’m dad,” kenji says slyly, and you open one incredulous eye. 

“did you really…?”

“I really did,” kenji says, puffing up his chest. “you walked right into it.” 

you groan and fall on top of him dramatically, burying your face in his thick fleece jacket. “I’m too dead for this. I’m like frankenstein before he was reanimated — just a bunch of limbs and organs in a useless, fleshy pile.”

“technically, he’s frankenstein’s monster,” says kenji, petting your hair absentmindedly. “frankenstein’s the name of the doctor. cute literary allusion, though.” 

“do you ever shut up?” your voice comes out muffled by kenji’s coat, but not at all devoid of its intended irritation. 

“occasionally,” he says as you lift your head. he pulls you closer with one arm until you’re practically sharing a seat, legs interlocked, your temple resting on his shoulder and his chin nestled in your hair. “when I’m sleeping. when I���m eating — well, sometimes. sometimes I talk with my mouth full.”

“yeah, I’ve borne witness to that,” you say, wrinkling your nose. you’ve tried to improve kenji’s table manners countless times (especially in light of your family’s thanksgiving dinner soon approaching), but it’s all been in vain. most likely because he enjoys seeing you get worked up about his not using a coaster, etc. “disgusting.”  

“when I’m concentrating on physics,” he continues, as if he hadn’t heard you. “when I’m in the library. when I’m kissing pretty girls.” 

he bends down and tries to give you a peck, but you gasp and dodge it. “girls? plural? you’re out here kissing pretty girls other than me?”

“when I’m kissing one specific pretty girl,” kenji corrects himself, grinning. 

you feel your own grin stretch across your face. “and which pretty girl is that?”

“my pretty girl,” he says smugly, looking incredibly pleased with himself. 

you scoff. “corny.” 

“you like it.” 

you chew on your inner cheek, trying and failing to suppress your smile. “you know I do.” 

the train’s speakers crackle alive, a cool automated voice emanating from their unseen perches: “approaching hiwamari station. projected arrival in: 1 minute.” 

“alright, time to wake up, sleeping beauty,” kenji huffs, lugging you onto your feet. you hang limp in his arms like a rag doll, unwilling to bear your own weight. “you are perfectly capable of standing. shape up before I alert the authorities, you hooligan.” 

“hmm,” you groan, finally arighting yourself with some difficulty. you want to ask where in the world he learned the word ‘hooligan,’ but your brain can hardly afford you even the most basic cognition right now. “it’s too late, and my knees hurt, and I’m tired, and I saw an ad for that new vietnamese place at the last station, and now I want banh mi. but I can’t have banh mi because there’s none on this side of town, and that irritates me.” you take a deep breath. “also, I’m cold.” 

kenji laughs and slips a loose arm around your waist as the doors slide open, gently guiding you down onto the platform. the night air bites at your skin, painting goosebumps in its wake. you’re about ready to just sit down on the ground and curl into a frustrated, exhausted ball when he crouches down, fingers straightening and smoothing the lapels of your coat. “well, I can’t really help with the sore knees and the hankering for banh mi part, but I’m pretty sure you’re cold because you’ve had your buttons undone this entire time. dummy.” 

he buttons your jacket quickly and deftly, careful to avoid pinching you in the process. a particular kind of warmth bubbles up in your chest at his concentrated expression — kenji likes to maintain his effortless, reckless reputation, but when it comes down to the bare bones of it all, he’s still the type of guy who’ll button his girlfriend’s coat for her. on the walk from the subway to your apartment, his arm doesn’t leave your body once, keeping you close to his side and shielded from the wind. 

“I’m not a dummy.”

“sure, dummy.”

(discovery number four: body heat — specifically, kenji futakuchi’s body heat — is by far the most effective way to stay warm.)

5. december 23rd, 12:01pm. 

“who’s your best friend?” the question pops into your mind and out of your mouth almost instantaneously. kenji, who’s lounging on the sofa next to you, turns, eyebrows furrowed. there’s a small douglas fir in the corner of the room, minimally decked with what ornaments you could “diy” from around the house: snowflakes made of sticky notes, bedazzled plastic utensils, etc. several small packages have been haphazardly tossed around the tree’s base, yours neatly wrapped in red tissue paper and string, kenji’s covered in newspaper and excessive scotch tape. (he tried. maybe not his best, but he tried.) 

“depends,” he says, turning off his phone and tossing it onto the carpet. “what’s your definition of best friend?” 

“you know,” you say, helplessly splaying your fingers. “monica and rachel. frodo and sam. taylor swift and karlie kloss.” 

“hold on,” kenji says, holding up a hand. “didn’t taylor swift and karlie kloss have a falling out?” 

“yeah, but for the sake of the argument,” you insist. you narrow your eyes. “wait. how do you know about that?” 

“you talk about it every time you listen to that one album, which is at least once a month,” kenji says with a grin. “probably more like twice, actually.”

“oh.” you flush, making a mental note to use earbuds more often. “anyways. answer the question.”

“wait, but you just gave me a bunch of examples,” kenji complains. he glances briefly out the window, which is iced over like a sugar cookie, obscuring the snowscape outside. mariah plays faintly in the background, jingling and whistle tones echoing through the halls. “you didn’t define anything.” 

“a best friend,” you begin, faltering and taking a moment to think. a best friend… what is a best friend, really? you frown for a moment before smiling brightly. “a best friend is a commitment. it’s when you commit to being there for somebody when they need you. and it’s when you commit to finding that person when you need them, too.” 

kenji lets out a low whistle. “okay then, socrates.”

“it wasn’t that deep,” you say with a laugh. “so. who’s yours?”

kenji grins boyishly, face lighting up like a christmas tree topper. “easy. you’re my best friend.” 

oh. you weren’t expecting that. your chest gives an involuntary little thump of pleasure. “me? what about kamasaki?”

“mmm,” kenji muses, counting on his fingers. “he’s, like, my fourth best friend. maybe third on a good day. but you’re the one I go to first.” 

you have the sudden urge to wrap your limbs around him like a koala and never let go; only your dignity keeps you from tackling him right then and there. you clear your throat, praying he can’t hear your thoughts — he’d never let you live it down. “you’re mine, too.” 

kenji doesn’t respond, just smiles and rolls off the couch onto the floor with a thud, spreading out on the carpet like a seastar. the silence doesn’t bother you, though — silence (what little you can get of it) is comfortable with you two. plus, it’s never really silent. there’s always something there, something very undefinable but very real. 

(discovery number five: you are in love.)

[silver-tongued-bby]

The Gardener - II

Chapter 2 - Catalan Jasmine

Pairing: Soft!Dark!Loki x Reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+!!! This is a Dark!Loki fic hence it will explore sexual themes and dark concepts. In this chapter there are graphic descriptions of sex, fingering and oral sex (f receiving).

Words: 3,220

Summary: Loki has run from himself his entire life. Settling in post-Second World War America, he finds peace in his garden, and finds the closest thing to a friend that he’s had since the war. But how long can any of it last?

Set in an AU with Loki Series Loki.

Chapter Summary: You and Loki grow closer.

Chapter I here.

...

"You go to my head

With a smile that makes my temperature rise

Like a summer with a thousand Julys

You intoxicate my soul with your eyes"

- Frank Sinatra, "You go to my Head"

...

You came back, as promised, the next day. You were smiling at him from the garden path, looking like a fallen angel. Your summer blouse wrapped around your beautiful skin, showing just enough to make his mouth dry.

He let out a breath in an attempt to get a hold of himself.

“Hi,” Loki said as he stood, brushing the dirt off his hands before wiping them on his handkerchief.

“Hi,” you said, stepping over to him. You were holding a bottle of bourbon in one hand, a pair of crystal tumblers in the other. “You’d be shocked at just how much of this is in there.”

He chuckled before he led you towards the small set of table and chairs. “I had a hunch. Lemonade?”

You nodded, sitting in the seat he’d withdrawn for you. He returned with the frosted pitcher and poured you each some in the glasses you’d brought. He topped it up with the bourbon, then passed one to you.

The two of you conversed for a few hours, enjoying the mid summer sun in the lush garden. It wasn’t long before you’d asked a question about one of the gardenias which led to him eagerly taking you around the garden to discuss each plant’s unique traits. You smiled the whole time.

“What’s your favourite flower?” Loki asked, stopping by a few pots containing Hoyas.

“Jasmine,” you said, “but it’s not native here. I haven’t seen it since Malaysia.”

He gave you a grin before taking your hand and pulling you inside. He turned into his study, pulling you behind him and brought you to a wide window overlooking the garden. Releasing your hand he motioned to the potted shrub in the corner, its 5-petaled white flowers giving off a characteristically heady scent.

He bent to pick one of the blooms then stepped closer to you, holding it between you. Your eyes went from the tiny flower pressed between the tips of his fingers to his face.

“Oh,” you breathed, taking his hand in both of yours before bowing your head to smell the blossom. “Just as I remembered,” you grinned at him.

His heart racing, he brought his other hand up to gently cup your cheek, marvelling at the delicate softness of your skin. Ever so slowly, he dipped his head towards yours, holding your gaze before softly pressing his lips to your own. He pulled back to study your expression, finding you to be dazed, your eyes heavy-lidded. Your breath was soft against his lips, your chest faintly pushing against his with each breath.

He dropped the flower and moved his hand to your lower back, holding you to him as he captured your lips once more. He gently caressed your lower lip with his tongue, tasting the faintest hint of bourbon and lemonade before lightly moving it into your mouth, against your tongue. He inwardly groaned at the taste of you, the feel of your body pressed to his, that delicate scent of yours he so wished he could bottle.

Again, he moved away, chastising himself for his poor manners. Breathless as he rested his forehead against yours, he brought his hands up to gently hold your shoulders. After a moment he withdrew his touch all together, his eyes desperately searching your own.

“I’m sorry,” his voice was soft. “I probably shouldn’t have done that.”

“I know,” you agreed, “you should have done it sooner.”

...

Over the next few weeks the two of you spent almost every day together. You’d show up early morning, smiling as you always did- god that smile! Brighter than the early morning sun. You’d drink coffee together in the garden, sometimes stepping out to the local diner for bacon and eggs.

You showed him the photos you took in Malaysia, your lens capturing different endangered species and some friends. You were eager to share your time there with him. You’d turned the upstairs water closet of Hattie’s space into a dark room, and showed him how to develop film. He could stand there for hours, watching your careful but sure hands tend to the film, the negatives, the photos wet with fixer, your lovely face illuminated by the soft red light.

You discovered his love for poetry and quickly brought him several of your American favourites, E. E. Cummings, Phyllis McGinley, Elizabeth Madox Roberts, to name a few. He in turn lent you some of his latest favourites, including Eliot, Yeats, and Meynell. You’d lay together in the garden, on the chaises or a picnic blanket, reading until the sun set, interrupting each other to quote a particularly good line or for a chaste kiss.

You took him to places he hadn’t yet seen in New Haven, each spot attached to a story, a memory, of your time growing up here with Hattie after your parents passed. He told you, briefly, of his mother. Some sharp, bright memories he’d had of her before she died, before she’d left him alone with his father and brother. Before things went dark for the first time. Though he didn’t tell you that.

The evenings were always bittersweet. You’d watch the sun set then have supper together, taking turns cooking. After dinner you’d share quiet moments, whispering to each other as if you were afraid to be overheard. He’d kiss you- always gently at first, the two of you quickly becoming lost in each other, then breathless as you parted. The worst was when he had to say goodbye. He wanted to keep your body pressed against his own, holding you there, safe with him, until the morning light.

One day you brought over Hattie’s record player, the bulky box on a wagon beside a stack of vinyl that you pulled behind you. He’d helped you set it up on the back porch by the door, insisting you kept the stack within an old wooden milk crate he’d retrieved from the basement. That day you danced instead, your hand firmly in his as your laughter filled the air, the two of you flying throughout the garden.

After supper you put on “It’s Magic” and wrapped one arm around his shoulder, your fingers entwined with his. Your eyes locked as his hand fell to your waist, holding you against him and gently swaying with the music. You were close- so very close to him, your breaths mingling and his heart beat wildly, as it always did when he found himself near you.

“Thank you,” you said gently, “for dinner. And for today,” you laughed, “and I guess the past few weeks. I’ve had such a lovely time with you.”

He smiled warmly, “me too. Thank you for being so wonderful.”

You licked your lips, “It’s getting late…” You trailed off, your eyes falling from his. “You know I hate saying goodnight- I hate leaving you,” you stiffened a bit at your own admission.

“Then don’t.”

You lifted your gaze back to his, and your expression brought every fibre of his being alight. You brought your lips closer and he quickly closed the gap, capturing them in a fiery kiss. He ran his tongue along your lower lip before gently holding it between his teeth, forcing a gasp from you. Letting it go, he dipped his tongue in your mouth, running it up against your own as his hand fell from yours to come to grip the side of your face, his thumb against your cheek.

For the first time he let himself go, fully losing himself in you, your hands firmly gripping his shoulders from under his arms. The feel of you pressed against him was heaven- everything about this moment, with you was heaven. He wanted you to consume him entirely, use up all he had to give, make him yours in every sense of the word.

You pulled away from him, the two of you panting lightly. Turning, you gripped his hand and led him toward the picnic blanket, still laid out in front of the peonies. You guided him to sit then settled yourself above him so you straddled him, your skirt falling around you. He closed his eyes at the feel of you against him, letting out a shaky breath before looking up at you, his mouth falling open at the vision in front of him. You were illuminated by the moonlight and the soft glow of the lamp he’d brought outside, your skin glowing. You smiled at him, though this was a different smile- your eyes were dark with lust.

You bent to kiss him hungrily and your hands wound in his hair. You sucked gently on his tongue as you pulled lightly at his roots, eliciting a growl from his chest. He gripped your hips and slowly guided you against him. He could feel the heat of you through your panties and the linen of his trousers. He was painfully erect, and by your strangled little moans he could tell you could feel him.

You moved to kiss his neck, gently running your tongue against his skin before sucking it between your lips. He groaned as you began moving yourself against him at a faster pace. He felt delirious. Taking a deep breath he gripped your hips firmly and guided you to flip over so that your body was under his. He needed to feel you- after weeks of imagining he needed to taste you, to give you the pleasure you so deserved and more.

He kissed you deeply before moving to your neck, running his tongue along your flesh and humming at the delicate taste of you. You moaned when he grazed his teeth against your skin, your back arching into him. He pulled away to push up your skirt, inhaling sharply at the sight of the wet silk covering you. Kneeling between your legs he dipped his head to press a kiss to your pelvis. You brought yourself up on one arm, watching him in a daze as he kissed a trail to the dampened silk covering your wet core.

The scent of you was positively intoxicating, and the mewling gasps you made as he peppered kisses over your damp heat made his head spin. He looked up at you as he urged your hips upward, his fingers hooking under the band of your underwear and pulling them down your legs. He moved so he could slip them off of you, and you bit your lip before slowly opening your legs to him, your expression that of pure sin. He raised an eyebrow at you, swallowing hard as his eyes traced your pretty centre.

“Every inch of you is so lovely darling. Every inch.” He said before coming back between your legs, his hand coming to rest on your calf, his thumb running gently along your skin.

You grinned and reclined back on the blanket, your eyelashes fluttering. He bent forward, blowing a stream of air over your dripping slit, watching you writhe in response. He loved watching you move above him in anticipation but he couldn’t take it any longer- he needed to taste you.

Keeping his eyes locked with yours he bent his head to lightly lick a stripe up your folds, your mouth open as you watched. He groaned- you tasted divine. Using his hand to gently spread the soft hair away from your heat he licked then kissed your clitoris, and you arched your back fully off of the blanket, your fingers twisting in his locks.

He swirled his tongue over the little bud, your moans growing. He brought his other hand up to trace his fingertips in your slick before gently entering a finger within you, your soft heat gripping his digit. He curled his finger, moving it within you until he found the angle that made you cry out. Hitting that spot repeatedly, he continued licking and lightly nipping at your clitoris, your breathing heavy. Slick covered his finger, dripping down it to coat his palm as your arousal built. He slowly increased the speed of his movements in time with your breath, watching you come undone above him.

“God Loki-“ you cried, your back fully arching off the ground as you came for him, moaning as you writhed and rode out your pleasure. He continued his motions, slowly easing them as you came down from your high, your breath eventually returning to you. Slipping his finger from you, he pressed a final kiss to your skin before sitting back on his knees, licking his lips. You were smiling dazedly at him, though the lust was still thick in your gaze.

“I want to see you,” you said softly, lazily pulling at his rolled shirtsleeves. He smiled at you before slowly unbuttoning his shirt and shrugging it off his shoulders, the warm air kissing his skin. Your eyes traced over his chest, his arms, his abdomen, darkening as you took him in.

He crawled over you, caging you in with his arms before bending to kiss you. He felt your fingers undoing your blouse below him and broke the kiss when you angled upwards to remove the fabric from yourself. He looked down at you and his brows drew together at the sight of the skin of your breasts, gently illuminated in the light.

“Lovely,” he whispered before coming back over you, angling himself so he could press his lips against the delicate skin above the satin of your brassiere. Your hands were moving along the top of his trousers, undoing his belt before the buttons of his fly. He felt your hands gently push his briefs down with his trousers, freeing his length. His eyes fluttered closed when you gripped him, your hand sliding along his heated skin.

Opening his eyes he moved his hands behind you to unhook the clasps keeping your skin from his. You let him pull the brassiere off of you, smiling shyly at him once your skin was exposed.

He dipped his head to press gentle kisses along the skin of your breast, “lovely,” he whispered, “you’re so absolutely lovely.” He looked up at you before taking your nipple in between his lips, gently running his tongue along it, and you arched against him, gasping lightly.

He went back to kissing your skin and you sighed, moving your hips against him, your wet folds gently brushing against the tip of him. He shuddered and took a breath before moving back up to look you in the eye. “Have you, ever-“ he felt his cheeks go red with his words, “have you… before? I don’t mind, I just don’t want to,” he let out a shaky breath, “hurt you.”

You smiled at him, and nodded. “Don’t worry, Loki. You won’t hurt me,” you bit your lip briefly before bringing your face up to kiss him, nipping at his bottom lip.

He was lost in you, so ready to take you, to feel you against him. But he suddenly remembered something and groaned. “Wait-“ he quickly got up, standing above you while holding a finger up, pulling his trousers back up over his hips. “Just one moment, I’m so sorry love, I’ll be right back.” He turned and swiftly ducked inside his home, to his water closet to get a condom from the medicine cabinet.

He scrambled back outside, the tin in hand. He stopped short when he saw you, laid out so beautifully on the blanket for him. He swallowed dryly before kneeling back before you, “I just thought we should be careful,” he said quickly, hoping he hadn’t just ruined everything.

You licked your lips, “thank you. Now please come here,” your voice held a touch of gravel as you eyed him, the slightest hint of a smirk playing at your lips. He felt himself twitch at that.

He nodded and pushed his trousers down before rolling the thin rubber over his length. Coming back over you he kept his eyes on yours while he lined himself up along your folds. Your mouth fell open as he slowly slid himself in- you felt absolutely heavenly, your heat gripping him with every inch. Once he was fully seated within you, he looked down at you, silently asking permission to move.

You nodded, as if in a trance, your breath coming out in short puffs. He kissed you, his tongue slipping into your mouth as he began to move his hips, setting a slow pace. Your fingers gripped his arm and pulled him closer to you, your chests pressed together and he moaned at the feel of you against him. He felt as if he were set ablaze, every part of him burning from your touch, your warmth, your scent, the way your hips slightly angled upwards to meet his thrusts.

He moved to the side of your neck, nipping and kissing at the skin there and you writhed under him. He pulled back, his arms coming around you to pull you up as he sat back, settling so you were on top of his lap. He kept his arms around you, running his hands against the skin of your back as he looked up at you. You bent to kiss him, lifting your hips to grind against him, and he let out a shaky groan as he held his pleasure at bay.

He wished he could keep you like this forever, so close to him, so absolutely divine. His head was spinning with your scent, and he knew he wouldn’t last much longer. Moving one hand between you, he lightly brushed his thumb against your clitoris, moving in time with your hips. You broke the kiss to throw your head back, still moving your hips as his hungry eyes devoured the lovely sight of you riding him. His other hand moved from behind you to your breast, gently tugging at your nipple and you moaned in the most delicious way, your hips rocking against him faster and faster.

“Let go darling, let go with me. Oh-“ he was cut off when your muscles clenched and you came with a cry of his name, squeezing his length buried deep within you. He let go with that, feeling himself twitch within you as your hips stuttered against him, riding out your high. All he could hear was the combined sound of your laboured breaths as you both came back to each other. He settled back on his arms to watch you as your chest heaved, your head lazily rolling to the side as you gave him an exhausted smile.

He smiled back, and came up to press a kiss on your chest, his arms moving to hold you against him. You’d dipped your head to kiss his forehead as he rested against you. You held each other for a few moments before he let up on his grip so you could slide off of him. He slipped the condom off.

“Do you want to stay the night?” He asked, watching you slide on your undergarments.

“Hm. Not sure.” You put your finger to your lips in exaggerated thought. “Will there be breakfast in the morning?” You asked, an eyebrow raised.

“There will be whatever you want in the morning. Breakfast included.”

You broke out into a smile at that. “In that case, I’d love to.”

[emeren]

unorthodox - armin arlert (1)

pairing: armin arlert x fem!reader

word count: 1.8k

content warnings: none <3

chapter notes: the first chapter is a little boring, but bear with me! it just gets better from here ;)

CHAPTER SUMMARY: reader does a favor for her shy roommate, causing her to meet a cute and familiar florist who’s words have a bigger impact than intended. 

“shit!” you breathed, squinting up at the sky. the feeling of warm, sticky droplets of water began to pepper your skin, dark clouds looming above. you were in an absolutely foul mood, bringing your free hand up to shield your face. 

“what’s the matter?” your roommate’s voice rang out through the phone, oblivious to the plight you were enduring on her behalf. you glanced around, the unfamiliar street and buildings only adding to your annoyance. 

“it’s fucking raining,” you cursed, looking for an awning to stand under as the rain grew harder. it was trickling down your face, seeping through your shirt. “okay, where is this place?” 

“like i said, it should be on the corner of 53rd,” her voice was muffled, indicating that she was nervously chewing on her finger nails. you rolled your eyes, trying to read the street sign through the rain droplets flying towards the ground. “thank you so much for doing this.”

you sighed, thinking about how desperately she’d begged you to pick up and drop off the bouquet of flowers. “right, it’s no problem. corner of 53rd you said?” 

“erm, yeah? i think so,” she responded softly. you had no idea where you were, hopping off the subway at an unfamiliar stop. by the looks of it, there was no 53rd in sight. there was, however, a promising looking building on the corner. 

“sash, what’s the place called?” you prompted, trying to blink away the water dripping down your face. your roommate was utterly incapable when it came to boys, especially the one she’d quote on quote ‘fallen head over heels’ for. he’d rendered her a social mess, hardly able to form a sentence let alone drop off a bouquet of anonymous flowers. that left the job up to you, the ever dependable friend. 

sasha shuffled around on the other line, your legs carrying you towards the green building. “i think it’s like ackerman flowers or something along those lines.”

low and behold, the building had a large beige sign that promptly read out ackerman flowers in pretty writing. you thanked your lucky stars that you wouldn’t have to wander around in the pouring rain much longer, attempting to wipe your face dry before stepping inside. 

“alright, i’m here sash,” you sighed, getting ready to hang up. 

“wait!” she cried out, voice seemingly hesitant. you rolled your eyes, wanting nothing more than to be out of the rain. “could you, um - could you put a note in it?”

“a note?” you asked, dumbfounded. you stepped to the side as an older man left the shop, umbrella in hand. 

“yeah,” sasha muttered, voice growing quiet. “like a love note or something. but don’t sign my name!”

you involuntarily laughed, phone nearly slipping from your wet hand. “sorry, um, yeah. i can do that.” 

“thank you so much,” with that, you ended the call, slipping your phone into your pocket. 

the rain lightened as you eyed the outside of the building. it was painted a deep forest green, a small metal table sitting out front. there was one large window, filled with all sorts of differently colored flowers and plants. the building looked homey, or maybe that was because you were desperate to get out of the rain.

a bell dinged as you pushed the door open, greeted by a gush of warm, humid air. the small shop smelled like greenery and jasmine tea, filled to the brim with flowers. it looked like a scene from a movie, the window allowing the grey toned light to wash over the plants. you breathed out in awe, eyes scanning the dark brown desk for an employee, but were met with a fat, fluffy cat. 

it was a light yellow color, lounging comfortably on the desk as if it were a bed. you slowly made your way over to it, the creature blinking up at you bemusedly with a pair of large, glassy eyes. you smiled at it, scratching behind its ear as you waited for an employee to show up. 

“oh, i’m sorry,” you were startled from the cat by a surprised voice, eyes snapping up to land on a boy about your age wearing a dark green apron. there was something oddly familiar about him; blonde fluffy hair and light blue eyes. his features were rounded yet pronounced, an apologetic look on his face. “i didn’t hear you come in, i was in the back.” 

“that’s alright,” you smiled, trying to pinpoint exactly where you’d seen him before. his gaze followed your hand to the cat, a small grin on his face.

“i see you’ve met erwin,” he said softly, wiping his dirt covered hands on his apron. you quirked a brow, silently asking him to elaborate. who names a cat erwin? “he’s the owner’s. i think he was named after an old friend of sorts.” 

“oh, that’s such a weird name for a cat,” you scrunched your nose, looking back down to the fluffy beast. the boy nodded, leaning on the front desk.

“levi’s not very personal, so i never got a backstory,” his long fingers reached up to glide down the cat’s back, scratching right at the base of his tail. he sighed before standing again, folding his hands on the counter. you gave the cat one last pet, noticing the boy’s confused stare. “is it raining outside?” 

“huh?” you frowned, realization dawning on you as your hand came up to pat your wet head. “oh, yeah. it started pouring right when i got here.” 

the boy’s mouth formed an ‘o’, the light glinting off of his name tag. you squinted slightly, making out the name armin. odd, you thought. never heard that one before. 

“well, cat and rain aside, what can i help you with?” he asked. you couldn’t help the slight embarrassment you felt when you considered how you were dripping water onto the ground, a small puddle forming by your feet. armin didn’t seem to notice, or if he did, he didn’t say anything about it. 

you let out a breath, giving him a smile. “right. i’m looking for a flower arrangement that is simple yet, uh, romantic?” you quoted sasha, watching as armin took in the information. 

he nodded his head, a contemplative look in his eyes. “i think i might have a good idea.” 

your eyes followed him as he slipped past the counter, walking up to one of the bundles of baby’s breath. you took a moment to glance him up and down, a light blue crew neck and dark jeans underneath his green apron. you’d be lying if you said he wasn’t attractive; a slim, muscular physique and broad shoulders.

armin flitted around the small space, grabbing some of this and some of that, absentmindedly muttering to himself. you leaned against the counter as he came up, a beautiful selection of flowers in his hands. 

“how about this?” he beamed, walking behind the counter to grab wrapping for the stems. you had to give it to him, the arrangement was gorgeous: flowers of various lavender and baby blue tones. it was soft and sweet, just what sasha wanted. “or, if you’d rather, i can go for the more romantic rose approach.” 

he was leaning forward on the desk, looking up at you through his brows. something about his stare made your face burn. “no, these are perfect!” 

armin chuckled lightly, his own cheeks a light shade of red. “i’m glad you think so. do you want ‘em wrapped up?” 

“yes, please,” you replied, watching as his long fingers placed the bouquet in a light brown paper wrapping. he carefully folded it, tying it off with a piece of twine. something about the situation was sweet, armin giving you a small smile as he handed you the wrapped flowers. 

it felt cliche, his hand grazing yours as you grabbed it from him. you looked down, trying to avoid eye contact as you fished through your pocket for the fifty dollar bill sasha had given you. 

suddenly you remembered her odd request, eyeing armin as he got your change. you certainly didn’t know how to write a love note, and knew that sasha would be no help. swallowing the small amount of embarrassment you felt, you decided to ask anyway. 

“hey, armin?” he looked up from the cash register, face slightly surprised. 

“how do you... oh,” he blushed, looking down briefly. “name tag. what is it?” 

you glanced at erwin the cat, swallowing your pride. “this is kinda weird, but would you be willing to write a love note? anonymous of course.” 

armin’s brows raised in shock, mouth forming a little ‘o’. you quickly tried to fix the odd question. 

“it’s just - i don’t know how to write one and i’m a little stumped,” you explained. armin gave you a small smile, grabbing a pen from the cup beside the card reader. 

“well, lucky for you, i’m majoring in literature,” he gave you a lopsided grin, quickly scribbling something down on the paper. once he was done, he leaned forward, placing it amongst the petals. “there you go. oh, and here’s your change.” 

“thanks,” you beamed, pulling the bouquet close to your chest. armin nodded, happy to be praised. “have a good day.” 

you turned to leave, giving erwin one last pet before making your way towards the door. armin gave you a small wave as you left the shop, disappearing from view. 

the rain had let up, sun peaking through the clouds. you smiled, quickly making your way towards the subway station, excited to get home. 

you’d decided not to pry when sasha’d asked you to pick up the bouquet and drop it off at niccolo’s dorm room. she’d been embarrassed, clearly way too shy to do it herself. you hadn’t asked questions; just decided to get the flowers and drop them off without further discussion. 

as you sat on the hard, plastic subway chair, you could feel that utter indifference starting to melt away. maybe it was because of the sweet florist, or maybe it was because of the way that the love note bounced tauntingly among the flowers. your fingers itched to read it, silently cursing yourself as you lifted it with your pointer and thumb. 

armin’s handwriting was neat; a soft mix of cursive and regular lettering. you glanced around the train car, making sure there was no one else there. it was paranoid, but something about it felt embarrassing nonetheless. 

after making sure there was no one else there, you looked back to the small note. your heart stopped as you read over his words. 

there’s something simple about feelings like these - they remind me of an early morning sunrise; fresh and familiar. warms my heart and soul just thinking of you. 

something about his corny words made your stomach flip, the sight of his soft face flashing in your mind. yup, you thought. i’m definitely embarrassed. 

why am i feeling this way?

<3 <3 <3

[miscellaneous--bones]

ok, seeing as i was going through my saved audios on tiktok one did give me an idea about Donna and Hibiscus but i needed someone for Donna to save(?) so i figured oh hey, younger sibling, and then i made three of them because another audio gave me aNOTHER idea

so anyway, these are Iris (he/him), Hollyhock (they/she), and White Carnation (WC [''Wick] for short, she/her)

im gonna talk more about them under the cut :) [tw for mentioned child/animal(?) death (which is faked), child abuse/neglect, and general Wolfsbane assholery]

so! hi :) these three are still kind of wips (especially WC) and tbh they're still semi hypothetical? seeing as these guys have always been my silly little stress free world building w/e thing w/o much of a story, I've always kinda played with what was canon and such, so most things can change at a drop of a hat (keep that in mind with most of this lol, especially pertaining to WC cuz she'd bring a lot more ''plot'' if i went through with what originally inspired her.)

lets start with Iris. he was the second oldest and the only one to out of these three to have actually been living in their home at the same time as belladonna. (she left by the time hollyhock was born) Iris for a while was Wolf's favorite just because he was mostly what he wanted in a son anyway. he wasn't treated as poorly as his sibling growing up and always had a kind of tense relationship with his dad because of that, though that tension was always one sided.

currently, hes engaged to a very sweet unicorn who is unnamed atm, and mostly out of the family home by now. (he still frequently visits because of his mom and siblings tho) not a whole lot to say about him! hes a guy :) cool dude. i like him, hes got good grounds with Holly, Hibiscus, WC, and was always close with Bella.

oh yeah did i mention that Bella is agender? shes agender and refered to as these guy's sibling :) (still uses she/her pronouns tho)

Now Hollyhock is a lot of fun. when Bella was born her father named her Yellow Carnation, meaning disdain, disappointment, and rejection. seeing as plenty of flowers have different meanings based on colors, sometimes parents will include the colors in their names to make sure its the right meaning conveyed. its an extra step that some leave out if its seen as unimportant, but of course Wolf is a dick and wanted his point to get across, so he gave her a shitty name. she changed it right before she left. (after that, Hibiscus and him had an agreement where they're name every other kid, so the next one Hibiscus got to name. she chose Iris, meaning hope, valor, wisdom, faith and trust. all good things :))

when Holly was born, they were basically exactly what bella never was for Wolfsbane. he wanted any daughter he had to look like her mother, and thats pretty much exactly what Holly looked like. He named her Jasmine, meaning either sweet love and amiability, or grace and elegance, depending on color. one of those flowers you dont have to specify with. like i mentioned before, Bella had left by now.

for a while they didnt even know about her except for the passing comments about her from Iris and Hibiscus. eventually she did start to learn more and put more things together, and basically just got a mind of her own (much to her father's displeasure) and started to despise Wolf for the treatment of the sibling they never got to meet and in rebellion dyed their hair rainbow. they also changed their name to Hollyhock, meaning ambition. Wolf still doesn't call them that. they butt heads a lot.

now WC is a little complicated shes the youngest and can barely even see yet. the original idea was that Bella would somehow get back into contact with her family. Hibiscus saw WC's mane and new that Wolf wouldn't approve, leading to the same treatment that bella got when she was younger. Hibiscus would make a plan for Bella to take WC back home with her and Lacey and would raise her away from their father for a while. in the mean time, Hibiscus would work on finding out how to leave Wolf and go to collect WC and live away from him for good with her kids.

fun fact, WC was named white carnation (meaning innocence, pure love, and good luck) in honor of Bella's deadname. also, i think the excuse that Hibiscus told Wolf about WC's disappearance was that she'd gotten sick and passed. (by now Wolf hadn't seen WC much cuz hes an ass like that, so he bought it and they had a staged funeral.)

i was half tempted to leave bella as an only child, but knowing wolf he'd definitely want to try again. oh and i did mention at one point that genetics wouldn't work in their favour so he probably wouldn't get like, the kids he wanted and all, but going back on that, white is a pretty common coat (note: COAT) color for them, so although pure white is unlikely when paired black and white, its certainly not impossible.

i think thats it? i might make another kid cuz i just noticed that its still weird they got TWO white foals and also all the afab unicorns aside from bella were white coated (which, her coat should've been the norm tbh) so I might squeez in another filly. probably someone in between Holly and Carnation. for now though that was a lot of typing, so that'll probably be tomorrow.

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Gavin’s Returning from Afar Date (Eng Translation)

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date, 远归之约, which has not been released in English servers! 🍒

[ This date was released in CN on 28 Sep 2020 ]

This is the 29th day of Gavin’s mission, and also the day he said he’d return. 

As agreed, I’m in Gavin’s house to water Little Spiky. Since I’m already here, I also tidy up the place, which hasn’t been habited for a month.

MC: Mm, its rootstocks are healthy, the colour is lush and green, and it’s growing well. Now to put it under the sun.

I carry it to the window carefully, letting it soak in sunlight.

My line of sight lingers on the wind chimes hanging near the window. I reach out to pull at the crystal piece. 

The bright and limpid crystal suddenly sends my consciousness back to the week before Gavin departed for the mission. 

[ flashback ]

The afternoon wind blows the curtains upwards, brushing across the crystal shoes glittering on the floor.

If one were to ignore the slight scratch at the back, this would have been a perfect souvenir.

I squat on the floor, one hand holding the “main culprit” - the broom, and another hand gripping my phone, giving the manufacturer a call while feeling upset. 

MC: Hello? I’m the person in charge of [MC’s Company Name]. We held an activity and ordered crystal shoes from your company. Do you still remember that? 

Person in charge: Miss MC, right? I remember, I remember. Do you want to collaborate with us for another event? 

MC: Ah, actually, one of the crystal shoes has a scratch on its back. I wanted to ask if it’s possible to fix it? 

Person in charge: Hmm... Because of the way it was designed, that batch of crystal shoes were specially handled, so traditional restoration works won’t be effective. But since you’re a regular client of our company, we can send you a pair based on the address you gave us. 

MC: ...no need for the trouble. Since it can't be restored, it’s fine. Thank you.

I hang up, a little disappointed. 

In the midst of cleaning up, I had accidentally scratched the crystal shoes Gavin gave me the other time. 

[Note] MC is referring to Gavin’s 2 Become 1 Date, which is available in EN.

Although the damage is slight, it’s not something I can just ignore.

While sighing, I store the crystal shoes back into the box, and place it in the cabinet. 

At this moment, a low knocking sound resounds from the door.

When I open it, I see that the person standing at the door is Gavin.

Light and shadows are cast on his profile, illuminating his sharp and soft eyes.

Gavin: What are you busy with? 

He walks in while speaking. Without him noticing, I prod the the box containing the crystal shoes further into the shoe cabinet. 

MC: I was doing a cleanup, but it’s almost done. 

Gavin responds with a “Mm”. He seems to hesitate, then walks over and takes my hand in his, his thumb rubbing it gently.

Gavin: I have a mission in a few days. It’s of a high level, so you might not be able to contact me for a while.

I freeze for a moment, subconsciously recalling how Eli had previously detailed the dangers of Gavin’s missions.

MC: ...is the level of danger very high as well?

Gavin: Mm, it’s a little dangerous. Which is why I have to go. 

He pauses, then continues. 

Gavin: You don’t need to worry. Before the 30th of next month, I’ll definitely be back.

He speaks confidently. Suppressing the worry in my heart, I give him a smile.  

MC: All right. I’ll take care of Little Spiky. And will wait for you to come back.

[ end of flashback ]

The wind chime clangs, its melody light-hearted and lively. However, I can’t help but sigh. 

For some reason, the second day after Gavin left, I discovered that the crystal shoes in the cabinet had disappeared.

I searched the house, but couldn’t find a trace of them. In the end, my guess was that a thief had stolen them.

Even after pondering over it a hundred times, I remain puzzled about the thief’s motives, and couldn’t fathom how a thief could have broken in. To be safe, I ended up changing the lock. 

MC: When Gavin returns, should I tell him about this...

All of a sudden, the wind outside grows stronger, causing a magazine on the table to flip open with a rustle. 

MC: What’s this? 

I walk over, holding up the magazine. I flip through it randomly, and wind up on a page which has been folded. 

It features a custom-made jewellery shop.

The vibrant front cover is incompatible with the cold colours of Gavin’s house. On the page, the eye-catching font forms the shop’s name - “Cang Xing”.

[Note] 苍星 (“cang xing”) directly translates to “dark green star”.

MC: Isn’t this the private studio which opened recently?

In a program not too long ago, I got to know about this shop. Although its prices are hefty, and the workmanship takes quite a long time, it has a very good reputation. 

I find myself getting confused.

MC: Is Gavin interested in this shop too...

The phone suddenly rings.

Designer: Hello. Is this Miss MC? I’m a designer from Cang Xing. Previously, a customer ordered a gift for you. May I know if you have time to drop by and have a look today?

MC: A gift? 

My eyes flit to the magazine in my hands, a vague guess surfacing in my heart. 

MC: All right, I’ll head over now. 

-

Pushing open the doors to the studio, it’s as though I’ve stepped into another world. 

Soft white muslin can be seen everywhere. Jewellery of various colours can be seen on the ivory tables, brilliant like stars in the dark night. 

The table near the entrance has visitors’ book. The designer doesn’t seem to be around, so I instinctively pick up a pen and flip it open, planning to write my name down.

After signing my name and preparing to shut the book, I suddenly see familiar handwriting. 

On the upper section of this page, amongst a mix of illegible and serious font, there’s a handsome and light-hearted one. 

It’s Gavin’s.

The date that he filled in was the third day before he left for the mission.

??: May I know if you’re Miss MC? 

A staff dressed in working attire walks towards me.  

MC: Mm, I’m MC. 

??: Nice to meet you, I’m the designer who talked to you over the phone earlier. Please follow me. 

I follow the designer’s directions and walk towards a reception area at the side. 

Several pink jasmines are scattered on the table of the reception area. At the side, there’s a long white silk ribbon, looking as though it’s been tied halfway.

MC: Is there an event happening in the store today? 

Designer: No, there isn’t. These were leftover flowers from an earlier event. I just thought to use them to decorate the shop. I didn’t expect you to reach so quickly, so I was only halfway done with the decorations. 

The designer explains in embarrassment. 

MC: I see. Oh yes, you mentioned a custom-made gift in the call...

The designer casts a glance towards the door, her expression turning apologetic.

Designer: Well... I have to wait for the customer who ordered it to arrive before I can tell you. I’m really sorry about that. 

I nod my head pensively. Looking at the unfinished decorations, I break the silence. 

MC: Since I have to wait, why don’t I help you with the decorations? 

Designer: How could I ask that of you!

MC: It’s fine. Is this meant to be hung on the wall? 

While speaking, I pick up the jasmine flowers on the floor, and hand it to the designer. 

After that, we stand on the stools, hanging the jasmine flowers on the wall. The white muslin sways gently next to us.

At this moment, the door is suddenly pulled open. What follows is the sound of specially made boots. The footsteps are slightly hurried, and they pause not too far off. 

Gavin: Sorry, I arrived slightly later than scheduled. 

I lift my head abruptly, turning around and wanting to hop off the stool. But my coat gets stuck on a hook, which has jasmine flowers hanging on it. 

MC: !

Along with the sound of fabric ripping, a pulling force tugs me backwards, and there’s empty space beneath my feet.

MC: Gavin--

In a moment of desperation, the word slips my mouth.

A gust of wind blows up the white muslin. Accompanied by a calm laugh, a strong pair of arms wrap around my waist. 

Gavin: [laughs] Don't worry, I won’t let you fall. 

Gavin catches me steadily. In the narrow and small world created by the soft, drifting muslin, he carries me and spins in half a circle. 

My torn coat is on the floor. Slightly embarrassed, I clasp a hand over the strap which has fallen off my shoulder.

Gavin sets me down. His gaze falls on my body lightly. Then, he hurriedly averts his line of sight. 

Gavin: [coughs] ...

The temperature in the room suddenly rises. Face flushed, I frantically search for the coat.

MC: ...where’s the coat?

Gavin: Over here.

He picks up the coat and hands it to me, his eyes averted to the side, his ears tinged a slight red. I take the coat, but discover that it’s basically unwearable since the snag is too serious.

In the next second, a warm piece of clothing is draped over me. The texture feels slightly hard, and I can even still feel the cold insignia.

MC: ?

I lift my head to see that Gavin has taken off his uniform, revealing his white shirt underneath.

Gavin: Put mine on first.

He pulls the uniform more snugly around my body. His warm fingertips accidentally brush my collarbone, causing me to shiver.

Face flushed, I lower my head. But I catch sight of a ripped button on Gavin’s shirt. 

MC: What happened? Are you hurt? Are there any other places? Let me see...

Anxious, I’m just about to pry apart his shirt to check if there are any injuries on his body. 

Gavin: ...

Gavin: I’m fine. 

Gavin grips my hand to stop me, his cheeks slightly red. 

The designer had left without us realising it, leaving the private space to us. 

The surroundings are delicate and tranquil. Only the person before me carries with him a windy and frosty aura, his eyes lowered as he watches me quietly. 

[Note] Interestingly, the word used to describe Gavin’s aura, 风霜 (“feng shuang”) also has a figurative meaning to describe someone who has experienced hardships in life :’)

MC: Let me have a look then. Only after I’ve verified it with my own eyes, I’ll believe that you’re not lying to me. 

I act in a fit of pique, angry and not understanding why he would still hide his injuries from me.

Gavin looks resigned. After a moment, his long and slender fingers touch his lapel, slowly removing one button.

His defined muscles come into view, revealing a lean figure. 

My hand gently brushes a wound on his shoulder blade which has already formed a scab, and my nose suddenly feels sour. 

Gavin: It’s just a small wound, and it has already healed.

His gaze follows my hands and rests on the wound, then he pauses. 

After being silent for a while, I lower my head, mildly aggrieved, and speak. 

MC: Did you rush over from afar? Actually, you could have taken your time to come back. You didn’t have to... be afraid that I’d worry, and be so anxious. 

I hold onto Gavin’s hand. He hasn’t removed his gloves, and the touch feels as cold as ice, bringing with it a chill.

Gavin: It wasn’t far. 

He tries removing his gloves before holding me again. But I don’t release him, and I tighten my grip.

Gavin pauses. Then, his fingers curl slightly, encasing my hand in his. 

Gavin: The mission was completed earlier, so I came back. 

A smile dyes Gavin’s eyes. Then, he pinches my palm.

Gavin: Let’s not talk about these things first. The gift I prepared for you - want to know what it is?

Looking at the mildly expectant expression on his face, I can’t help but store away my sour emotions, and snort with laughter.  

MC: I do want to know. So could Officer Gavin tell me what it is?

Gavin: You’ll know soon. 

-

MC: I didn’t think there would be a small showroom at the back of the private studio...

After pushing open the door inside the studio, what enters my vision is a glass showroom. 

The outer side of the showroom is constructed using glass, allowing sunlight to stream in, illuminating bouquets of pink jasmine flowers that have been strung up.

Gavin: This is a small glass showroom originally used by the owner to allow customers to hold mock weddings. 

Gavin guides me to the centre of the showroom, brushing past the flower bouquets.

Gavin: But today, I’ve temporarily borrowed it. 

A gust of wind causes the fine gauze draped over the showcase in the middle to fall, revealing a pair of crystal shoes surrounded by flowers. 

The shoe now has a small gem embedded in the place which was scratched - brilliant, bright and sparkling. 

MC: ...this is? What is it doing here?!

Gavin: When I went to your house the other day, I saw that you placed them on the shoe cabinet. 

I’m a little dumbfounded. 

MC: I thought I hid it in the box...

Gavin can’t help but laugh. 

Gavin: Mm, you did hide it in the box. But your reaction was too obvious. In the span of a meal, you glanced at that area around ten times. So before I left, I took a look. 

This causes me to feel perplexed. 

MC: So you were the one who secretly took the shoes away. I thought I lost them, and was depressed for so long. I also thought a thief stole them, and even changed the lock.

I mumble softly, but my eyes sneakily linger on that pair of fully restored crystal shoes. 

The unease from the scratched souvenir vanishes bit by bit, turning into a sweetened state of mind. 

Gavin: I searched for many places, but only this shop’s owner said he could use precious stones to try restoring the damaged area. 

Gavin: The date of the completed restoration could have been earlier, but I wanted to give them to you personally. 

Gavin: Which is why I asked the shop to give you call today. 

Gavin: [coughs] Even though it looks different from how it was before...

I interrupt him softly. 

MC: But I like it very much. 

Gavin stops, looking at me seriously with lowered eyes. 

Gavin: I did this because I didn’t want you to be unhappy over the damaged crystal shoes. 

Gavin: As long as you like it, that’s all that matters. 

His words land on my heart, rippling across it. 

Slightly flushed, my peripheral vision rests on the gem, which is reflecting specks of light. 

MC: Oh yes, what’s with this gem? 

Gavin: While I was on a mission, I passed by a shop and saw this gem through the window.

Gavin releases an unnatural cough.

Gavin: At that time, I was about to return to help you with the amusement park wedding photoshoot. I thought it would be of use, so I bought it. 

Gavin: But after that, I didn’t have a chance to give it to you.

He seems to think about something, and laughs lightly. 

Gavin: I kept thinking about when would be an appropriate time to give it to you. 

Gavin: It just so happened that the shape of the gem needed by the owner tallied with this. 

Gavin: So it was used. 

He fixes his eyes on me, affectionate and gentle. 

Sunlight parts the layers of clouds, casting a warm shade. It’s as though I can clearly hear the sound of my own heart beating. 

The sound gradually grows louder, becoming more urgent, wanting to burrow its way out of my chest and tell the person in front of me how I feel right now. 

MC: Although what I’m about to say may come across as being overly polite to you, I still have to say it. 

MC: Gavin, thank you.

Thank you for silently watching over my mood. Thank you for always returning to my side no matter where you go.

The white muslin drifts to and fro. My heart stirs, and I gently touch the muslin in front of me. Sunlight streams in.

My fingertips brush the soft white muslin, tracing the word “Gavin” on it. 

I turn my head to the side, blinking at Gavin a little playfully.

MC: This word - apart from it being your name, it also has another meaning.

 MC: It’s “courage”.

Gavin’s eyes pause on my face, as though he’s slightly shocked. But it quickly morphs into a smile which harbours starlight.

His smile leaves me in a daze. I turn back, pretending to be unaffected as I begin speaking softly. 

MC: Gavin, you are my courage. 

MC: You are the courage I have when I face life’s large and small twists and turns. 

MC: Next time, I’ll become a person who is stronger in heart, and won’t be dejected over such a trivial matter. 

MC: I’ll also work hard to become your courage and strength - to protect you from harm each time you go on missions. 

MC: Or... to sustain fewer injuries. 

I wave a fist towards Gavin as a display of my determination. The sunlight sifting in through the muslin is like a gentle filter, descending on Gavin slowly.

Having to part from each other and having gloomy moods are inevitable. But there’s one person who will ultimately make his way over to me, smoothening out all the anguish, leaving only happiness behind.

He will cross the mountains and rivers, walk across the clouds and the moon, to meet me at the brink of dawn. 

Gavin: [laughs] I got it. 

He turns his head, mimicking my earlier actions, lifting his hand to trace something on the white muslin.

MC: This is...

I try to decipher what he wrote, but can’t tell what it is. Confused, I look at Gavin. 

He puts his hand down, lifting his eyes to stare at me quietly. 

Gavin: Protecting each other. 

His voice is loud and clear, reminiscent of a galloping breeze in autumn, crashing into my heart. 

Gavin: You are already my strength. 

Gavin: So I will keep protecting you, and everything you like. 

The numerous times of parting, the numerous mornings and evenings spent alone, now leave a sweet aftertaste.

MC: Gavin, I’m really happy now. 

MC: So happy that I feel as though the entire world is before me at this moment, and within reach. 

Seeing my smile, Gavin lifts the white muslin between us, reaching out to bring me into his arms.

The coat draped over my shoulders slides off. The white muslin is akin to a gentle mist, gracefully drifting mid-air, then falling onto the both of us. 

Gavin holds my hand, encircling me in his arms. 

MC: Gavin...

The close and warm contact causes my face to heat up. I can’t help but call his name. 

But he isn’t in a hurry to respond. Instead, he lifts a hand, taking a strand of my hair into his palm, his gaze lingering on my face. 

Gavin: Now, I’m the only person in your entire world. 

The delicate fragrance of pink jasmine slowly permeates the air. The temperature from our laced fingers is scalding. I tilt my head upwards, giving Gavin’s chin a careful peck.

MC: In that case, could I bribe my entire world to let me have this moment for a while longer?

In the next second, I feel warmth around my waist, and Gavin wraps me in his arms tightly. 

He lowers his head slightly, his fringe brushing my eyelashes. I can feel his steady, composed breaths. 

Gavin: No matter how long it is, you can.

-

Phone call: here

-

🍒 Cheri’s elegant thoughts 🍒

HE PURCHASED A RING OKAY

NO ONE JUST BUYS A RANDOM GEMSTONE

HE HAD A RING ALL THIS TIME

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH