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strangerdangerwrites · 9 months

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the art of lies | t.s. (fantastic beasts) - chapter one

Summary: all your life you had been handling the dirty truth, and here he comes presenting you with his sweet lies.

Pairings: Theseus Scamander x Fem!Reader

genre: romance, mature audience intended

warnings: mature themes, implied sexual content, sexworker protagonist, pleasure house (brothel), smoking

the art of lies masterlist

IN THE ABSENCE OF DAYLIGHT, Paris comes alive, after all, it is known as the City of Love.

Love in the form of freshly picked flowers from the florist.

The sweetest chocolate that tickled your taste buds.

Hand-written poems that rivaled world-renowned poets.

A love so sweet and tender that it caresses you gently in the night

But that certainly wasn’t the truth, it never was. Love wasn’t like that.

Love was the thorns that hid beneath the roses.

Love was the bitter taste that lingered in your mouth after your first dark chocolate.

Love was the letter from lovers that had written goodbyes instead of ‘I’ll stay’.

Love was the harsh tug of your hair, the rough hands that hold your wrists, saying the words ‘You are so beautiful’ only when you are in the middle of the bed, spread willingly to the desires of man.

Here, in Paris, is nothing but filled with nights of debauchery where all senses are thrown out the window. The sickening smell of expensive perfume and wine drowning you in the world of sins. And Paris was notable for it, here you are free! Or so they say.

Truth be told, you could never be free, always staying in hiding from the Non-Magiques. And here you were indebted to your handler, Madame Blanche, the owner of the renowned luxurious Maison close ‘Amour Délicat’.

Like her name, the whites in her hair and the sharp look in her eyes tell her story. She was a former courtesan before and when the first war of the non-magiques happened there she learned something that would give birth to her only child, the Amour Délicat. When she shared the truth of what was happening in the world of the non-magiques to the Ministère des Affaires Magiques de la France (Ministry of Magical Affairs of France), Madame Blanche was greatly compensated, and there from the ground up, she built her history.

Madame Blanche is far from the harsh and ruthless handlers in the non-magiques world of prostitution; she is commanding and ruthless. When she saw the reality of the world, it opened her mind to do whatever it takes to protect herself, and that is by being well-known that you create a sense of security in being seen. Here she opened her doors to those willing to work for her, at first, many were wary as to join and take employment, the look of disdain and gossip were indeed not for the faint of heart.

And you who had nothing to lose, took the first bite and jumped straight into death potion.

You, who only had your name and the clothes you wore on your back crawled straight inside Pandora’s box.

Madame Blanche had saved you, she had given you a roof, food, clothes, and the protection that you needed. The life you formerly had was long gone; it was all in the past, thrown into the sea to be forgotten.

And here you learn to be a great witch. She first-hand, had taught you how to be a legilimens, as her first courtesan, she has taught you how to traverse the mind easily, to learn secrets, and how to use them to your advantage.

“The most powerful of witches and wizards can all be defeated by the secrets they hide.”

While the other courtesans were only taught surface-level legilimency, you were a natural. Not only can you do it nonverbally and wandlessly, but you can also communicate with others telepathically. Madame Blanche had opened you to all possibilities, and with that, she entrusted you with the highest position of being her right hand.

And your skill at legilimens always comes at night when you bed another clientele. And in the middle of pure ecstasy, they reveal the truth unwillingly. Here in the dimmed candlelight, you walked through the halls of their mind unlocking every door with a skeleton key of your abilities. No matter how many layers, or how many locks they keep, trust you could open it with ease. Secrets like marital affairs, financial debt, graft and corruption, illegitimate children, crimes, enemies, first love, their favorite color, the last thing they ate, their thoughts at that very moment… you can see and feel. An out-of-body experience, stripping you naked from yourself, from what you are and who you were. Here you forgot you were even breathing.

You didn’t realize you had been lying on the bed still for the last few minutes, the house elf, Bernadette, had been looking at you worriedly, and in her hand was your dressing robe, colors almost like the blinding light.

“Was the man harsh on you today, Miss?” She asked, placing the mulberry silk robe on your hand. You gave her a small smile and shook your head. The faint marks of rope were the clear sign of your lies, yet you were accustomed to it.

“It is alright. Run my bath for me?” With a wave of her hand, the bed took itself towards the laundry room and came in a small golden tub that fit your frame. Muttering a spell it filled the tub with bubbles and water, you stood before it before hitting it with a wave of your wand. The gramophone in the room suddenly erupted into soulful jazz music. With a scrub and a bar of soap ready at hand, Bernadette tried to assist you but you declined. Stepping foot into the warm bubbly bath.

“I would like a moment alone.” You waved your hand as soon as the words left your mouth, the house elf knew to leave you to your own devices. You were a grown woman, a woman who has been doing these for the last decade. And whenever you tried to look into your future, all you could see were the grand walls that painted your very eyes, the moving wallpaper depicting fields of various white flowers, you were stuck in Amour Délicat for the last moments of your life. This was the only thing you will ever know. You were indebted and grateful to Madame Blanche, and that led to your loyalty. She protects you and everyone in the Maison close. Outside these walls was uncertainty.

In the hot water, you submerged yourself trying to wake yourself up to the fact that this is your life. Yet when the warm glow of the city, fireworks erupted the skyline, muffled by the water you sat straight to peer at the noise. Without even looking, you knew families were in their own homes, enclosed with the scent of pastries and the warmth of their own fireplace. It was just a few minutes before New Year's Eve, and here you were working. Alone, staring into the distance, craving the sense of a warm home.

Holding your knees close to your chest, you stared at the skyline as Muggles and Magical people alike celebrated the night with a bright display of fireworks.

Unbeknown to you, Clarice, the receptionist had been preventing the members of the British Ministry of Magic from stepping foot towards the quarters an hour before the new year would start.

“You cannot go inside; this is a private and respectable property,” Clarice spoke, her accent rushing the words as panic littered her veins. Her arm at ready with her own wand. The lounge was filled with thick air as the British aurors pointed their wand at the girl, not understanding a word she shouted.

Click-clack! Click-clack!

With every slow step, Madame Blanche descended the stairs.

“And what do you English want? Here to close Amour Délicat? You don’t have the right.” Madame Blanche boasts, looking at the men below with her chin pointed upwards. Looking at them one by one, the Madame could not read their minds, the British aurors have been trained in occlumency. Remaining calm, she stood on the balcony, overlooking the whole crowd below.

“We were looking for one of your workers. I believe they have the answers to the disappearance of one of the assistant delegates of the British Department of the International Confederation of Wizards.” Torquil Travers claimed, holding a photograph of a man in his middle 30s-40s.

Summoning the paper in the grasp of the Madame, she looked at the photograph intently, racking up all the lists of their clients. Without even showing hints of recognition, Madame had thrown the paper back into the hands of the aurors.

“I believe you must have a permit before we further your inquiries. If not, then leave.” Turning around, she waved a hand to open the large doors.

“We have it, signed and approved by your own Minister.” Stopping in her tracks, the auror walked up to the steps and held it right in front of the Madame’s face. Now a hint of annoyance was painted on her pointed brows.

“Come to my office, only I can accommodate two of you. Choose wisely.” Madame Blanche said in a cold tone, not even bothering to wait for aurors as she walked straight to the lift.

“Scamander! Come with me.” Travers could upon the young man, the older auror respected the young man’s abilities and thinking, after all, he was a respectable war hero.

Stepping into the lift, the walls were decorated with moving painted white flowers, the madame touched the button to the highest floor, and the black lining of the lift showed its elegance. As the Aurors stood behind her, eyes darted across each other in nervousness. The Brits showed no sign of anxiety, even if that was far from the truth, the Madame held an air of regalness suffocating them with the scent of floral perfume. As soon as the doors of the lift parted for her, the room was quite the luxury and beauty with its eclectic interior, engulfed with knick-knacks from travels, moving statues, paintings from famous muggles, and the large glass pane showing the night sky.

In the middle of the room was a velvet green chair, a large glass table, and a lone flower sitting in the golden vase.

“Sit.” She pointed toward the chair in front of her, while she remained standing encircling the room looking at the Englishman that disturbed her home.

“Our clients value discreteness, we simply could not disclose it easily… yet since you presented me with a hand-written note by our minister I must oblige to your request. Then talk, what is it that you want?”

“We are looking for Charles Moore. He has been in charge of communications with the French Ministry as a part of assistant delegate for our Ministry, he asked to be assigned here after the Muggle World War. The day he was posted to return, he didn’t. And we believe that in his letters to his sister, he claimed to be…”

Madame Blanche raised her eyebrow at Torquil Travers waiting for him to spit it out.

“In love.” Theseus replied. “He claims that he has found the love of life here in Paris and was planning to buy off her indenture. Or so we believe.”

Madame Blanche scoffed.

“There are many dames in Paris, and he chose to settle with a courtesan?” Madame Blanche laughed, making Travers find it humorous as well. In the keen eyes of Madame Blanche, he saw Theseus's brows turn into a frown before shifting back to biting his cheeks.

“Are you certain that it was in Amour Délicat?”

Theseus answered with a nod.

There were three letters in total from Charles Moore to his sister. And for the past few days, Theseus had been assigned to look for the exact description of the building. He alone took the time of the day, looking at details of every establishment and brothel in Paris, from the world of the muggles to hidden alcoves of the French Wizarding World. After 2 days, he had seen the exact description of the magnificent-looking walls lined with silver and the sweet nauseating scent of flowers, that’s when he knew this was it.

First Letter:

Dearest Ange,

I believe I have found the love of my life! No one is ever as beautiful as her. No amount of theatrics on the show could ever take my eyes off of her. She sat there like a flower, waiting for me.

As soon as the play was over, I tried to approach her. Tell her to take my hand and run away with me. Oh, Ange! I never felt something like this. This must be what love is. Yet, my heart turned to pieces when I saw her taking the arm of another man, walking together side-by-side as they left the theater. I trailed behind them, and saw the most luxurious of buildings, sparkled with silver linings and flowers decorating its walls. Then I stopped and stared, and the man left her there. That’s when I realized what it was… I know this might sound ridiculous, but she is working in the red-light district and with that, no amount of apprehension could hinder me. I know you would flip the whole house upside down, but Ange this is love. I am certain of it. No amount of your denial could keep me away from this.

From your darling brother, Charlie.

Second Letter:

Dear Angelique,

With the amount of your reply, I take that your silence was your approval.

Today, I took liquid courage to go ahead and talk to her. But the only way was that I had to pay a fortune. I walked to the receptionist with high hopes, and with her assistance, she immediately gave me a room. With flowers in hand, I waited for her only to get my hopes up when another girl walked into the room. I was filled with disappointment. I asked the lady of the night for the description of my love, and she claimed that she was part of the ‘bouquet de blanc’. First-time patrons' pocket money is not enough to gain an audience. And me being an assistant could only lead me to certain places, yet I will persevere.

Give me a few more days and I’ll be able to, no matter the cost.

From your brother, Charles.

Last Letter:

To my Darling Sister,

I hope this letter finds you well, I could not disclose to the ministry the cost of my expenses… but I found another way. Worry no more. Today, I will finally be able to talk to her.

The day that I return home is when she is with me.

From your loving brother.

Placing the letters right in front of the Madame of the house, with a lifted finger her smile faded into a scowl. Someone from the inside was spreading information about her courtesans; Bouquet de Blanc was valued in secrecy. This was a catalog of their courtesans that had regular high-paying patrons, and this was not open for viewing so easily. Patrons that were deemed valuable to her and her Maison close were accommodated, the pure-blooded noble families, higher ranking officials, royalty even. And someone from the lower ranks of her courtesans had their tongue quite willingly.

Waving her wand, she summoned a large logbook. There inside was information such as names, professions, ages, nationalities, and ranks of their patrons, of course, the courtesan they were assigned to. Whispering the name Charles Moore, it skimmed through the pages with ease, and there in bold letters was the name of the auror the Brits were looking for. Travers tried to peer at the other listed names, his curiosity taking the best of him.

“Curiosity is the lust of the mind, Mr. Travers. Why don’t you sit still, and I’ll call upon her.”

Closing the book harshly, Madame called upon Bernadette. Apparating next to her mistress, Madame Blanche whispered to call the girl. Nodding the house elf disappeared within a blink of an eye. Behind them, the elevator dinged, while the Madame tapped on the book with carefully manicured nails.

“It is New Year’s Eve; would you like to avail of our services? It can easily be arranged. I know it’s a long journey and your work for your ministry is greatly appreciated, it wouldn’t hurt to take the night off— to indulge yourself in your sensual desires.”

The older man shifted in his seat uncomfortably. Suddenly they were interrupted when the elevator doors dinged, signaling the arrival of the courtesan. Turning around a slender figure stepped foot in the room, She wore a long flowing green nightgown.

“Come in here and greet the Brits, Maeve. They would like to talk to you about Charles Moore.” Madame Blanche pointed to the aurors in front of her, the back of the courtesan’s neck grew in a cold sweat.

“I–I do not understand Madame Blanche. I didn’t do anything wrong! The man asked– and I swore that was the last of it, I told him what he wanted to hear.” The girl's pleading cries fell on deaf ears as the aurors could not understand what she was crying about. Theseus' eyes darted between Madame Blanche and the girl’s tear-stricken face. While Torquil Travers stood to show his authority, ready to apprehend the girl.

Within just a few seconds, Madame Blanche had already seen the inner linings of the girl’s mind. The fear registered in her thoughts while she traversed doors upon doors to look for the memories of the missing delegate, and right there she found what she was seeking.

In just a few quick strides, Madame Blanche towered over the girl with a look of disdain painted on her red lips. The old mistress, jaw held tightly as she wiped the tears of the girl. Only to hold the young girl’s face tightly, her long nails pierced through the delicate skin while she stared straight down into the young woman’s eyes with an intense look, unblinking.

“You may leave, pack your bags, and look for work elsewhere. I do not take it kindly to those willing to open their mouths willingly to my secrets. Bernadette, escort her out of here. I have found what I’m looking for.”

The girl refused as the house elf dragged the wailing girl back to the elevator, screams of ‘no’ echoed through the walls.

Travers, who was far too confused, shouted for the house elf to stop as the girl was a key witness. Even pointed his wand threateningly at the old mistress, ready to cast a stunning spell within the tips of his lips. The madame disarms him with a flick of her wand, his wand went flying right off his grasp and cluttered on the hardwood floor. Madame shook her head no when the auror Travers tried to pick it up.

“You’re a legilimens.” Theseus muttered; Madame Blanche turned around to face the man giving them a tight-lipped smile and nodded.

“Would you like to view the girl’s memory and be done with it? I need to run my business after all.” Offering to perform legilimency to project the memories to the aurors, they declined. They knew not to, after all, they too have secrets that protect their ministry.

“We decline. We, Aurors value our minds and do not open them so willingly.” Travers stated, still apprehensive of Madame Blanche. “But the girl needs to be questioned, we have to have her testimonials as to Moore’s disappearance.”

“Then you must trust my word because I too have my secrets to keep. That girl didn’t kill or cause his disappearance. He came in here one night, to question about the catalog of my courtesans and that was it–”

Cutting off the handler of the brothel, Theseus insisted; “Charles Moore stated in his letters about a ‘bouquet de blanc’. I hope that might ring a bell, after browsing through your catalog in the lobby earlier. I couldn’t find traces of this list, is this a secret that you are hiding from the ministry?”

Madame Blanche’s eyes narrowed at the young auror; her piercing ice-blue eyes almost looked like they could kill.

“No, of course not. My bouquet de blanc is the Amour Délicat trade secrets. I could not easily say it out loud for fear of our competitors copying what I built from the ground up. If you would like to browse that catalog, then let me— although I must say, we do not easily offer our services freely.” Walking towards a dark oak cabinet grabbing a large book with golden linings. Placing right back at the table, Madame Blanche flipped through the pages with images of different courtesans, and right on its last page was a picture of you.

“I believe she is the one he is asking for.” She pointed with a manicured finger, right before your name was a title given to you.

Queen of the Night; Night-blooming Cereus

You were smiling, looking right at the onlooker like it was destined. While others bashfully hid their eyes, sultry looking to get admirers, you didn’t need to do that. You had your charm, something that allures the onlookers to choose you. Madame Blanche tried to flip the page to show them another photograph of you leaving nothing to the imagination to the spectator, but Theseus stopped her.

“I think that is enough, could you summon her to talk to us.” Theseus declared with a cough, standing up to close the book and stepping right in front of Travers' line of sight. “Please.”

Madame Blanche smiled, this time it was far different. “I believe your permit only limited you to talk to one of the key witnesses… And since Mr. Moore was not a benefactor of bouquet de blanc, I know because I am the only bookkeeper of that catalog… you must pay a hefty price.”

Now, the Aurors were stuck in the beginning, only pieces of blocked paths. If Charles Moore was not on the list of high-ranking patrons, then they could only comply with the demands of the authority and right now it wasn’t them who was holding the winning cards. When Travers' authority gets threatened, he scoffs, ready to drag Theseus out of the old woman. Madame Blanche truly was a businesswoman, she played them a fool. Whether they get out of the establishment empty-handed, or with empty wallets was their choice. They could simply not arrest the old woman, this was out of their jurisdiction, they were out of their element and far from their own country, and they simply couldn’t do whatever they wanted.

“Either you pay full price, or you will tell me why such a simple assistant is being hunted down by the best Aurors of the British Ministry. Pick your price.” She sat arms folded right in front of her face, holding her chin while she grinned at the standing men.

Within a minute of no one budging, Travers' patience wavered. With a deep sigh, he faltered. With one last glance at Theseus, he held his head low.

“Charles Moore stole 4,000 galleons. We believe that he tried to buy her indenture and convince her to come to London with him.” Travers confessed. That was the half-truth, Theseus’ senior took out the part that it was from the subsidy for international affairs. And the way he stole it was undetected like he had some insiders to help him, they were now battling an unseen threat. They only noticed it was missing after 3 months, when Theseus looked at the accounts and noticed that something was awry.

Madame Blanche started laughing, “He believes he can buy off her indenture for 4,000 galleons. Oh, what a joke! That’ll only cost him half an hour at most”

When Madame Blanche stopped laughing, she pointed back to the lift doors. “Head to the floor below. I’ll tell her I sent you.” The aurors nodded and headed to leave only to be held when the Madame halted them to stop.

“You endanger my investment; I’d rather you stay here than be near one of my priceless courtesans.” She stated, pointing at the older auror. Theseus can see his senior jaw tightened, and the veins on his neck grew red in anger. Not only was the older auror disarmed, but he was also being held under surveillance in fear that he might endanger you, now his patience and authority wavered on thin ice, and his eyes clouded with anger.

“I’ll talk to her and I’ll find what we need.” Theseus whispered as soon as he stepped foot in the lift. The doors closed slowly; he saw Madame Blanche’s eyes watching the other auror like a hawk.

When the doors for the lift opened, what greeted him was a vast hall painted like the night sky. With a slight shift of his eyes, he can see the tiny freckles of stars that decorated a lone white door. Unlike the outside of the establishment, this seemed out of place with the flower motifs of Amour Délicat. Here he can feel the cold breeze of the winter night. Knocking on the white door, he called out to the name he had seen written on the catalog.

You who had been preoccupied with your thoughts; wishing to know the feeling of stepping out of your body, floating, freely, like the ghosts that linger down the dark alleys. Right outside the window, the streets erupted in cheers as they all greeted each other another happy new year. Drinking down the champagne that was given to you by a patron, noting a taste of toast and coffee and a subtle spice drowning out all your other senses. When the fireworks ended, you lay there looking at the skylight as the only glow of the light left was the moonlight.

A subtle knock started you as you let Bernadette waltz her way in. Her company and the cup of tea are greatly appreciated when your water has now gone cold. But instead of the house elf, what replaced her was someone far taller than her; there he stood only the silhouette of his slender frame seen.

Theseus didn’t expect what he saw, a lone woman basking in the golden tub, a melancholy look written in her eyes.

Sad. You looked sad.

The only sound that could be heard was the faint hum of the gramophone across the room and the muffled cheers that erupted right behind the glass windows. With the faint sparkle of light, you saw a slight frown on his face. Realizing your predicament, you went back to wearing the mask when you were at work.

“Would you like me to keep you company?” You asked, turning around delicately, careful not to show another ounce of skin. Tilting your head to one side and smiling at him, the same one he has seen in the photograph earlier.

When Theseus realized what you were implying, he held his hand and shook his head, showing you a metal badge indicating the words ‘auror’. You had a fair share of French aurors that came to you for a night, often playing the role of the captive and captor. What a lack of imagination, if this is the role he wants to play then so be it.

“You would like to play that role? I, the convict, and you the detainer. Would you like that darling?” You asked, ready to approach him when he realized what was happening, he turned around not to face your naked form. The tips of his ears went red in embarrassment.

“I didn’t come here for your service; I was sent here by Madame Blanche to question you. My name is Theseus Scamander, I was sent by the British Ministry of Magic.” He announced.

Ahh… A British Auror. You hummed and stood to grab the white robe and placed it on your body. Hearing the sound of faint footsteps, Theseus waited until you gave him a signal.

“I see… talk I don’t have all night to entertain you.” This time you put your weight and one foot, crossing your arms across your chest. Your hand laid steady on your wand.

Turning around, you pointed toward the chair that sat across from you, and he agreed to your request. As soon as he did, you went and grabbed the champagne you had been drinking earlier and procured another glass to pour him one. Placing it next to him, you stood in front of him and drank yours, waiting as he did too. Theseus eyed it suspiciously, but you continued to drink it on your own accord.

“A gift… something lighter than the fire whiskey.” You replied as you down the glass in one gulp. He nodded and carefully took a sip of his. You sat in front of him and grabbed the bottle to pour more down into your glass.

When he exhaled in satisfaction, you knew it tasted amazing. Theseus knew what you were doing, trying to lower his guard, not sitting to show you were in control, and intoxicating him to vulnerability. Yet, he remained calm, showing no signs of threat to you. If Madame Blanche was a legilimens, there was a high chance you were too, all he needed to do was throw you off his scent.

And just like he had predicted, right at the moment you tried to pry his mind. A knot on your brow formed when you stared intently at him.

‘You looked sad.’ Those were the thoughts that circled his mind, like a mantra. You can feel it. Feel him. It made you nauseous, the bile in your throat rose as his thoughts engraved into yours. No one had looked at you and thought you were sad; it was always beautiful. Sadness and you were never to be put in a sentence, and when his thoughts did it terrified you.

To be seen broken makes you fear. To be seen feeling sadness made the feeling of being stripped naked for the whole world to see. All your life, you had built these walls that made you stand on your own two feet. The ache in your mind becomes unbearable, you weren’t beautiful… underneath all the expensive clothes, and pearls that glittered your skin— you are crooked, battered with bruises, wrecked by time, your skin filthy with sin, you were a tragedy… a rotten work.

“Stop.” With gritted teeth, you fail to look at his eyes and his mind. A slip of the tongue made you realize what you had said out loud, that was all Theseus needed to know that you too are a legilimens. “State your purposes.”

Right in the pockets of his coat was the photograph of Charles Moore, he carefully placed it on the table in front of him waiting for you to pick it up.

“Do you recognize him?” He placed the picture within your line of sight. Pausing he tried to scope for your reaction. “It’s Charles Moore, an assistant delegate of the British Department of the International Confederation of Wizards.”

“He has been missing for months and the last contact we had from him was a letter to his sister, trying to have an audience with you.”

Your eyes examined Moore’s photograph. And minutes passed your silence almost became too heavy to Theseus's dislike, but he needed to thread your waters carefully, you were already agitated for unknown reasons.

“I believe I do not know who this person is.” You smiled and stared at Theseus, the first time you met his eyes after your outburst earlier.

He pointed out another slip of your strong facade right at its mark. “Yet you do not deny that you do recognize him.”

“Maybe I do… Maybe I don’t. It is possible he is one of my long lists of admirers, doesn’t erase the fact that I do not know him at all.”

“I highly doubt that. You’re a legilimens, and I am not; that is true. I need to know if you have met with him once, and if you are proven to be telling the truth then I would leave this room. But I can tell you’re lying. Skilled legilimens can procure memories into another person, and all I needed was the time and date, any people that were trailing him. Your truth is all I need.” He proposes.

“Or would you rather we do this the hard way? The choice is yours.” He leaned forward as his head rested on his knuckles.

“You give me the illusion of free choice when all you want is to pry my mind. Is there something you are not saying, Mister Scamander? Tell me the truth, what is in it for you? What would you get to look into the inner workings of my mind? You expect me to believe that you honestly want nothing else? Just my memory? I hardly doubt that.” Challenging his proposition, you leaned forward as your palms hit the glass table harshly with a loud slap, not before rebutting his claims. “Surely it could not be just you are looking for a testament, you wouldn’t work hard on that, all you needed is a vial of the strongest veritaserum and it would be done. Then why are you pushing hard to look into my mind?”

“You play a cruel game of trust.” He sighed, making you scoff. “Mr. Moore had said in his letters about how he will get the currency to meet you, his means to getting it is unsaid. And that was a clear sign that he needed someone to work with him to get that from a subsidiary of international affairs, you are simply a madman to be able to work alone. And all I need is— you. All I need is you.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion.

“I need you to work with me. You knew better than just mere rumors, you knew everyone and could see their thoughts.”

Working with the British Ministry, consider it treason. Yet, you never were loyal to this land. Your loyalty lies elsewhere, it stays to those who have given you a sense of protection. Your loyalty is within Madame Blanche’s hands. Hands that remained choking you to stay.

Still, you let Mr. Scamander entertain you with his words.

“It would have to take you a valuable price, Mr. Scamander. I am an expensive woman, yet, I am considerate. Give me leverage and I will give you what you want.” That’s when he stopped and stared at the photo, avoiding any eye contact. “What could you possibly offer Mr. Scamander, tell me.”

You grinned as you took a sip at the champagne, just like a war, both of you had been disarming and hurting each other for the kill. Breaking down every barrier with a small slip-up of each other, both of you were professionals at your trades. He is an Auror, he knows how to spot lies and negotiate, give you the feeling of support to make you break down your armor. Meanwhile, you pride yourself on being a great liar, you know what to say to appear compliant, and you know how to adapt and play the games to your tide. Every word and sentence uttered until one of you would lose the battle of wits, one slip and the fallen would crash and burn.

Leaning back you gave him a smile, your wand procuring a cigarette that lay on the table. Placing it gently on your lips, the tip of your wand lit up a flame. With a deep inhale, you knew you were already winning the battle. You didn’t need to look into his mind, to know that he was fighting a losing war. His occlumency was far useless when the knot on his forehead and the jaunt of his chin told you he was conflicted.

“I have been offered riches that could fill De Nile, clothes that were woven from the rarest of silks, jewels that shone brighter than the sun, houses that housed thousands of rooms, paintings of the most beautiful landscapes, songs and sonnets about my beauty, the most exotics of creatures that lay hidden within the government’s grasp… Pray tell, what could a simple auror like you have that can overthrow all those proposals?”

He was silent, expression never changing. And no matter how hard you try to pry to look into his mind, it remains still like he is right in front of you.

“Safety.” Your smile faltered. “I offer you safety.”

You blinked and blinked. Trying hard not to show that your jaw was slack in silence; the timeliness of the gramophone hitting its ending notes was fitting. His words lay heavy on your mind.

Amour Délicat had always offered you protection, but never safety. Safety was a word often associated with emotional aspects that were never visible in your job, safety offered you the sense of never needing to keep your secrets in this line of work or needing not to utter a word that would be your downfall in these walls. Protection kept you free and sheltered from physical aspects and threats, like the two guards that trailed you whenever you needed to do outside work, or the walls that shielded you from the rain. Safety is a foreign word, way too foreign that it burns you with curiosity. A thrill you never experience on a silver platter. It gives you hope— and hope gives you greed. A greet that surpasses all material things known to man. You want to take it all, consume your being until all is left is the safety that you wanted, the safety of being able to walk free, to run away, the security of not needing to know that this is the place where you would meet your demise.

You knew how Madame Blanche worked, she took pride in knowing secrets and that is her leverage. And right now Madama Blanche would be none the wiser when you will take his deal. And there is one thing in the world that the Madame hated, and it is to not know anything at all.

“Give me your hand.”

“What?”

You held your hand to him and stood up, apprehensive he stood up as well taking your hand in his. Looking up into his eyes, you called upon the house elf. Bernadette immediately appeared right beside you.

“Don’t promise me empty words.”

“I won’t.”

“Then you wouldn’t mind if we made an unbreakable vow.”

Your hold on his palm tightens, only to travel into his wrist. Without breaking eye contact you give him a minute to decide what his choice would be. Does he trust you enough to do it at the expense of his life, or would he rather fear being the one to dictate his actions?

His palm pressed tightly into your wrists, not like the rough hands that occupied your wrists hours ago, his hold was gentle, not imposing. Nodding at Bernadette, a thin tongue of flame issued at the tips of the house elf's fingertips and wound its way around both your and Theseus’ hands. It felt like a burning wire, keeping your skin aflame.

“Will you, Theseus Scamander, promise to provide my safety, as he and I work together?”

“I will.”

“Will you, abide by our oath, to only tell the truth to me?”

“I will.”

a/n: dialogue that is formatted like this “dialogue” is in French. i tried hard to make it one-shot i really did, buT I SIMPLY CANT SO HERE I GIVE YOU WORLD BUILDING AND MORE LORE UPON LORE ON THIS FIC.

#theseus scamander #theseus scamander x reader #theseus scamander x y/n #theseus scamander imagine #theseus scamander oneshot #theseus scamander fic #theseus scamander smut #theseus scamander x you #fantastic beasts fic #fantastic beasts imagine #fantastic beasts one shot #callum turner

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mochinomnoms · 7 months

Text

A Floral Inconvenience

You came into Twisted Wonderland with nothing but the clothes on your back, a literally fiery cat, and an immune system not conditioned to handle the foreign antibodies in the air, earth, or water. It was honestly a miracle that you hadn’t caught some sort of incurable disease, probably because most diseases here required magical output to survive, like plants and water. You weren’t immune to your own feelings though, and magical disease and illnesses have a funny way of adapting themselves to their potential host. It was then that you found yourself prepared for springtime hay fever and allergies, after all pollen was pollen no matter where you were at. What was unexpected, and thus not prepared for, was the disease known as hanahaki, or the flower sickness. Long ago, there existed a family of mages that lived in a small mountain village deep within a jungle that was established by a family of mages. The family protected their village with fantastical and magical abilities, each unique and extraordinary as generation from generation grew. One of those mages, the Flower Bride, had the ability to grow a magnificent array of flora with just the wave of her hand! Flor de mayo, jacarandas, figs and vines all made their home with the Flower Bride. She had a heart so full of feelings, love for her home, family, and her beloved, of course, that her very emotions affected how dazzling those blooms were. The Flower Bride then decided that others should be able to demonstrate their love in the same beauteous display as she did: after all, who wouldn’t want their love developing into only the most lovely blooms? As such, hanahaki was born. Some see it was a blessing, a push, an opportunity for one to confront their feelings. It’s a realization that what they’re feeling is indeed true, the type of love that can only be achieved in fairytales. Others saw it as an inconvenience: after all, sometimes it just wasn’t the right time to confess your love, or they’d be coughing up petals mid-speech, kind of annoying honestly. Yet the sickness would continue until they acknowledge their feelings, the love died down, or it became a chronic illness. Officially dubbed hanahaki by researchers in the East, the disease was also referred to as the flower sickness, being twitterpated, and sometimes even the lovesick florae by the general population. The most commonly afflicted persons fit into two categories: the positively, without a doubt, enamored sort, the twitterpated or lovesick sort of folk. Or, they were the kind to bury their feelings deep deep down and just one day die. It wasn’t unique to any singular species either. It had adapted to afflict humans, beastmen, and even merfolk. Why, not even fae were immune despite their natural immunity to magical disease. Really, it shouldn’t have been any surprise that the emotionally stunted students of Night Raven College would be prime targets for their own bout of hanahaki.

An event to christen the creation of my blog! Please feel free to request or use for your own!

Requests Close 10/20/2023

Rules

Anyone can use this event and prompts on their own blog! Tag me in so I can read all your stories!

This event will be for TWST on my end, others are free to use for whatever they'd like!

All request will be up to 2000+ words, with a max of 3 characters per request.

Chose up one prompt for each character and indicate if you want romantic or platonic. You can also indicate if you want fluff, hurt/comfort, suggestive, etc.

No NSFW for this event (on my end at least, everyone else go nuts)

Reader will default to gender-neutral unless asked otherwise

Dialogue Prompts

“Why is your trash can full of flower petals? Are you secretly a botanist, or is there something you're not telling me?”

“So, I hear you've been coughing up daisies lately. Got any plans to enter the flower business?”

“You know you have it bad when you start sneezing petals every time your crush walks by. At least it's a colorful allergy!”

“I can't believe you're faking a cough just to get some attention. And you're using fake flowers for the petals? That's commitment!”

“I think the local florist is in love with me. Their shop is making a killing off my Hanahaki. Do you think they'll give me a discount?”

“You've got to stop sending secret admirer bouquets to yourself. The delivery guy is starting to think you have a dozen secret admirers.”

“I've heard of wearing your heart on your sleeve, but wearing petals in your hair is a whole new level of fashion statement.”

“I have a steady, loving partner. you on the other hand have a left hand and a sunflower cough.”

“Why'd I have to get a nose full of lilies? I'm allergic, this is so unfair.”

“You think with all the lavender on my head I could make my own syrup out of it?”

“No, I've been practicing my sleight of hand! Watch as I make a bouquet of tulips magically appear—ACK!”

“No, I haven't been growing marigolds out of my ass. Why would you even ask that?!”

“Here, your favorite flower! Hmm? Where'd I get them? Uh, I just found them, around…”

“I'd rather have the thorniest, pesticide ridden roses grow in my mouth before I'd ever admit having any sort of affection for them!”

“Sooo, are you gonna apologize for puking dahlias all over my breakfast?”

“I've never heard of a flower sickness, are you talking about seasonal allergies?”

“Look, even if confessing would let me get rid of the poppies, I'd rather not. Maybe I'll just learn how to make poppy seed muffins or something.”

“Is this normal here?” “Only for the emotionally unavailable folk.” “Ah, so it is.”

“Dude, are your freckles turning into baby's breath?” “AHH!”

“Aren't lotus flowers really good for your skin? Babeeey, I'm set for life—” “NOT WHEN THEY'RE GROWING OUT OF YOUR EARS!”

“Look, I care for you and want you to get laid, but imagine all the money we'd save on tea if you kept growing chamomile from your head.”

“Blehhhg…” “You know I always knew I'd be holding your hair back as you puked your stomach out at a party, I thought it be from the alcohol though, not flowers.”

“You know, some people pay a lot of money for Hanahaki bouquets, have you considered—OW! It was just a suggestion!”

“I'm so happy that you confessed first.” “Why?” “If I had to dig out another hydrangea petal from my teeth, I was gonna lose it.”

“Man, sunflowers have got to be the worst to be puking up.” “Nah man, it's roses and their thorns! They scrap up all up your gums, my dentist bill after was ridiculous!”

🌸 a floral inconvenience masterlist 🌸

gardenias & peonies: silver x f!reader – #13

stargazer lilies: sebek zigvolt x f!reader – #5

dahlias; zinnias & cosmos: ruggie bucchi, trey clover, [separate] x gn!reader - #15, #1

teonanácatl mushrooms: jade leech x gn!reader - #18

lavender roses: floyd leech x gn!reader - #14

lavender: azul ashengrotto x gn!reader - #18

marigold: vil schoenheit, platonic!ace trappola x gn!reader - #7 & #12

blue hydrangeas: idia shroud x f!reader - #24

baby's breath & red roses: riddle rosehearts x f!reader - #14 & #19 [QUEUED]

amaryllis: lilia vanrouge x gn!reader - #1 [PENDING]

carnations: leona kingscholar x gn!reader - #18 [PENDING]

asters; purple hydrangeas: ace trappola, jamil viper [spearate] x gn!reader - #22, #24 [PENDING]

gerbera daisies: trey clover x gn!reader - #3 [PENDING]

orange poppies & water lilies: azul ashengrotto x gn!reader - #17 [PENDING]

sunflowers: jack howl x gn!reader - #8 [PENDING]

chrysanthemums: jamil viper x gn! reader - #1 [PENDING]

green roses: malleus draconia x gn!reader - #13 & #14 [PENDING]

pink poppies & cala lilies: jamil viper x gn!reader - #17 & #22 [PENDING]

sunflowers: leona kingscholar x f!reader - #8 [PENDING]

BONUS:

azaleas, cornflowers, & white roses: ace trappola, deuce space [poly] x gn! reader - #6, #3, & #22 [PENDING]

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst prompts #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #a floral inconvenience #writing prompts #hanahaki au #mochi masterlist

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nostalgebraist · 20 days

Text

declare

Read Declare by Tim Powers recently.

It had some really good individual bits, and was well-written throughout, but overall I found it kind of a slog.

Partly that was just due to pacing, or me not quite being in the target audience, or other similarly ordinary and boring reasons. But, on reflection, I think a lot of my troubles with the book come down to one big, uncommon flaw it had -- which is my reason for writing this post.

----

Declare is a hybrid fantasy/spy novel.

The spy stuff, which comprises most of the book by mass, is drawn from real history -- in particular, from the life of real Soviet spy Kim Philby -- and strives to be consistent with all particulars of that real history that are publicly known.

The book is a "secret history" as opposed to an "alternate history," intended to produce the impression: "for all we know, this really could have been what happened." It sticks to the historical record about the kind of matters that make it into said record, and only invents things in the blank spaces in between them.

As Powers put it:

I made it an ironclad rule that I could not change or disregard any of the recorded facts, nor rearrange any days of the calendar – and then I tried to figure out what momentous but unrecorded fact could explain them all.

You'll note that I'm being vague about what "the fantasy elements" are.

I'm doing that on purpose. Revealing much about their nature would be the kind of spoiler that actually spoils, because one of Declare's virtues -- and I really did admire this -- is the way it makes its fantastical secrets feel really secret. Like a secret doctrine, a mystery cult, an epistemic Rubicon that one does not cross lightly.

They are talked about elliptically, even among initiates (and Powers makes this feel naturalistic, not like cheap and pointless reader-teasing evasion). Before you know much else about these "fantasy elements," you know that encounters with them have a tendency to leave people scarred, broken, changed -- and disinclined to say much about what they saw.

The early chapters of the book almost feel like the opening of a "mundane" spy novel. Except they are dotted with stray glimpses, from odd angles, of... something else. Something that is clearly one single thing, with a coherent shape, only you cannot make out in full what that shape is. Something that feels, authentically, like it was not meant for your innocent eyes.

It's all very effective. Really great stuff.

But then, at least by the halfway mark if not earlier, the reader catches up with the characters. The shape of the thing comes into focus. You get what the deal is, insofar as anyone does, and insofar as there is a "deal" to get. The nature, if not the logic, of the hidden world is laid bare.

"The nature, if not the logic": this is the book's fundamental flaw. The fantasy elements of Declare eventually land in a worst-of-all-worlds no-man's-land between mystique and mechanism.

They are explained to the reader just enough that they lose their glamour; what initially feels like the mystic doctrine of a lost gospel, or the forbidden fruit of a Lovecraft story, ends up feeling more like a collection of "lore" passages accompanying tables of numbers in an RPG rulebook. Yet they are not explained enough that they make sense, the way a law-bound "magic system" makes sense; despite Powers' ambitions, they never quite become capable of explaining anything else.

To put the point a little differently, and set things up for my next one: Declare mixes together two ingredients which, on their own, are perfectly fine -- indeed, actively good -- but which absolutely cannot go together. Namely:

Mysterious, supernatural forces that feel properly mysterious, numinous, not quite bound by "our" human logic and thus fundamentally beyond our ken.

A secret-history version of bizarre and partially unknown real-world events, which supplies explanations for the weird parts and fills in the tantalizing gaps.

Why do historical mysteries draw our interest? It is not just that there is something we don't know. There are a lot of things we don't know, about history, and mostly they don't trouble us.

But there are some questions for which it does not seem possible to imagine an uninteresting answer.

When a real historical figure behaves in some bizarre manner -- as the real-world Kim Philby frequently did -- we know that, whatever cause moved them to do so, it must be outlandish in a way that matches its effect. When people act strangely, they do so for strange reasons. That is roughly what "acting strangely" means.

But! Once you allow "ineffable, partly unpredictable magic" to be a cause with effects, the link between interesting events and interesting causes is broken. You can now invent explanations which are less interesting than any real-world one could possibly be.

You can survey the historical record, note down all the intriguing gaps, and then sculpt an infinitely pliable magical putty into the precise shape of each gap, so as to fill it. These fillings do not have the shape of real things; they are made retrospectively, and modeled after the patterned obstructions marring our view, rather than the real patterns which are being obstructed. They do not have spiraling implications, as real things do; they plug the gaps they were made for, and do nothing else.

Human behavior has human causes, and human causes are frequently interesting, to us humans.

It is usually a virtue, in fictional depictions of magic, for that magic to feel nonhuman.

But it ceases to be a virtue when that magic goes on to become a substitute for the real human causes of real events. It provides answers to all our questions, at the cost of removing the reason we imagined we might want to possess those answers.

"Why on earth," you ask me, "did this bizarre historical event happen the way it did?"

And I respond: "a wizard did it."

You protest that this is not an explanation at all. You profess to be just as confused as you were at the outset.

You say, in exasperation: "it can't just be that. There has to be something more. Why did the wizard do it? Is it... the sort of thing that wizards do? Is there a 'sort of thing that wizards do'?"

In real life, you'd have a point. In real life, for every X, there is a sort of thing that Xs do.

But not for wizards. Remember #1 above? Wizards are beyond your ken. Perhaps there is "sort of thing they do," but if so, it is too subtle for your dull, unmagical brain.

Which is to say: they can do whatever the author, or the plot -- or the gaps in the historical record -- need them to do on any given occasion. And then they go back into their box again, until they need to be retrieved, in order to do something else entirely.

And worse: although the introduction of the wizard does not leave you any less puzzled, it frees you from caring that you are puzzled.

There is no longer the unscratched itch of an unsolved mystery about human behavior. You are not confused about a person, anymore, but about magic. And it is perfectly clear that you are never, ever going to understand magic. Your confusion is now expected, predictable. Everything is properly in order, as you can now see. You are free to go.

And yet somehow, you find, the book is not over. It will not be over for a while yet. You have other confusions, you see, which have not yet been stripped of their human interest and robbed of their allure.

(Not everything in Declare is like this, to be clear. I may be making too much of a few sore points in the plot, I guess. Still, there's no denying that I found the later parts of the book tedious, and this is at-least-sort-of why.)

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cocomochicakes · 3 months

Text

FIRST (F!Tav x Rolan)

A/N:: So I decided the Tieflings of this game don't get enough love so here you have pure, unadulterated PWP.

(And if you wish to be tagged for updates, please comment below!)

WORD COUNT: 13,913

RATINGS: E

WARNINGS: Adult language, Crude Humor, Explicit Sexual Content

PAIRINGS: Rolan x F!Tav

SPECIAL TAGS: @themeghanlodon @mushi42

READ ON AO3

SUMMARY: It's been three years since the Great Mindflayer Invasion in Baldur's Gate and though the companions have all gone their separate ways, Tav remains in the Gate working as a traveling alchemist who studies magical plants and their uses for potions all while getting closer to a certain grumpy Archwizard. When a normal night at Elfsong becomes heated, Tav and Rolan become closer than they thought.

Elfsong Tavern is in full bloom as dusk turns to twilight and the patrons of Baldur’s Gate fill the hall with their grand stories of adventures both inside beyond the gate. A bard strums his lute and plays for patrons, his song among the chaotic din of clattering plates, tinking glasses, and the laughter and merriment from many an adventurer. Off in a far corner seated in an alcove upon a plush set of chairs Rolan and you are seated. It’s been 3 years since the fall of the Netherbrain and the reconstruction of Baldur’s Gate back to its former glory. After your companions had departed to the next steps of their own journey and you decided to remain in the Gate and settle into a life as an alchemist and apothecary with the knowledge gained from many of your travels. Tonight was like any other end to a tenday for both you and Rolan as you had often been contracted by him to bring him ingredients for spells and research and tonight you had suggested the two of you indulge in an evening away from work after a week filled with absolute mayhem within Sorcerous Sundries.

Rolan seems to be distracted as you tap your tankard to his, hoping to get his attention. “Oh forgive me, I got distracted. What were you saying again?” his voice is alert and attended to your presence finally. You smirk at him and tease, “you were just about to compliment my fantastic self on how incredible I am for all the merchandise I was able to deliver on such short notice.” You got up from your seat momentarily to do a small twirl and pose as a mighty hero before sitting back into your chair.

Rolan chuckles at your antics. He’s grown over the years to be a tad soft though most people see the Archmage of Ramazith Tower as quite stoic and grumpy at times, though if anyone knew the truth, they most likely would never believe it. He smiles at you setting his drink down before leaning in on his hand. "I was indeed. I simply can't help myself when confronted with such beauty and grandeur as yourself," he replies.

You know he’s playfully teasing you as he always seems to. “But aren't I? I am grand and wonderful and you are blessed to know such a magnificent woman as me.” Your words are light and you gesticulate how incredible you are with a twirl and sway of your tankard before taking a deep swig. Rolan can’t help but laugh at your now most likely inebriated antics. "Yes... Yes, you are indeed grand and wonderful. I do feel quite blessed to be in your presence, oh great one..." he says with a sly smile.

Your gaze meets his and there’s a palpable energy between the two of you and you know the alcohol is taking effect as your banter begins to get more flirtatious between shy glances. “Hmm and because I am so grand, I feel like I should give you a reward.” Your voice is like honey to him and he sees you lean in close to him from across the small round table. The alcohol is definitely taking effect as Rolan doesn't seem to be aware of the intimate situation he has found himself in "And what sort of reward would that be, oh great and wondrous one? You have my complete attention," he asks, leaning in slightly with a flirtatious glance and another sly smile.

An eyebrow lifts and you walk your fingers up one of his arms before bringing a hand to his chest as you lean close to his ear. “What kind would you like?”

Rolan shivers at the touch, biting his lip as his eyes look up at you in surprise. Your touch is foreign to him outside of the occasional brush of hands but it stirs something within him, a false sense of bravado to which spurs more banter. "I wouldn't want to presume," he says softly. "I am but a humble creature in comparison to your greatness. But for you, I am at your mercy. Any sort of reward would be a pleasure."

You smirk and slot yourself between his legs as he sits on the stool and towers over you and he blushes deeply, breathing rapidly as he finds himself in a new and unexpected position.

"And... And what do you plan to do here? Oh wonderful one?" He glances around the room, noticing only a few other patrons who take notice of the sight unfurling in a corner of the room but then quickly look away and resume their own conversations.

You bring yourself close to his lips to where you can almost taste the alcohol in his small, unsteady breaths. “Perhaps a kiss would suffice?” you say without a hint of hesitation, your eyes looking between his and his slightly parted lips.

He swallows hard, eyes glancing between your lips and eyes, and leans in closer. "Perhaps... But I could not possibly..." He takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly. The alcohol is clouding his judgement and his body feels suddenly warm as he leans forward even further, his lips just millimeters from yours. You can feel his breath on your lips as he hesitates. The air and din around you still.

You feel his hesitance, his reluctance and push it from your mind, closing the gap between your mouths to place a small, soft, gentle kiss on his lips before parting. The kiss is short but sweet, leaving an instant impact on Rolan's brain, muddling any thoughts he had in that moment. His lips begin to feel warm and his heart starts beating wildly, his breath coming in sharp, quick gasps. He glances up at you with wide eyes, his lips still parted slightly from the kiss. Awe.

You smile at him I think that is a perfect reward to bestow.

Rolan seems overwhelmed by the feeling the kiss left behind. His breath still coming in quick gasps, as he can't seem to control it. The warmth in his lips is still present, and his eyes are wide and shining "That was... amazing," he finally says softly, his words barely perceptible to your ears through the din of the tavern.

You glance down shyly and look back up to him. “We could....do it again.”

He’s looking at you with a longing gaze, biting his lip softly as he nods "Yes... Yes, I think we should. Just... Just once more." He looks around again, ensuring no one else is looking before pushing the small table between you slightly forward, inching ever so slightly closer, his warmth radiating into your vicinity. He meets your lips this time and again the kiss is soft and sweet before he parts with you. Your gaze is half-lidded and wandering to his. It stirs a beating in your heart, sending it racing inside your chest.

The second kiss is every bit as good as the first, leaving Rolan wanting for more. His lips are still parted slightly from the kiss, his eyes half-lidded with a dreamy gaze as he takes in the sight of you before him. He glances around the room one last time before leaning forward again, this time more bold, and initiating a third kiss however this time, his kiss is more passionate. His arms wrap around your body in a tight embrace, pulling you close. The kiss becomes increasingly more passionate, leaving Rolan dizzy with both pleasure and surprise as his tongue and lips slide against yours. His breathing is shallow and quick into the kiss, and his heart is racing like a whirlwind as his mouth opens further to allow your tongue to slide with grace against his. He’s slowly losing control of himself and his desire as he kisses.

You moan into his mouth as you feel every movement of his tongue and lips against yours. It’s euphoria, pure bliss where your mind is blank. Tabula Rasa. Rolan moans softly in response, his mouth opening fully as he gives in to the sensation. Your tongues are dancing eagerly and every motion of yours seems to send ripples of pleasure through his body and leaving his hand desperately grasping at your back. You slowly part from one another, your chests heaving as you gaze into one another's eyes, your lips both swollen and flushed. He stares at you, the feeling still washing over him as he feels completely and utterly enraptured. In that moment, Rolan sees only you. He breaths deep, his mouth still feeling warm and tingly from the kiss. He looks down at your lips, eyes still longing and yearning for another taste of them mingled with drink on his tongue.

In your haze, you forgotten you are in public until you hear a whistle come from across the room paired with a few catcalls. Your face flushes. Rolan looks up from you and glances around the room, realizing where the both of you are. His blush deepens as people's eyes are looking over at the two of you, clearly having witnessed the very-heated kiss between the two of you. He glances back down at you with a sheepish smile and shakes his head. "Perhaps a bit too much for a public place, eh?" his voice carries a hint of embarrassment for what has just transpired between you two.

You laugh in return at the awkward situation you’ve found yourself in. “Probably not the place to be giving this kind of show I suppose…” your voice trails off as you cast your gaze to the side. Rolan chuckles in response to your comment, his cheeks still flushed and his lips still feeling warm from the kiss. "I'm not sure there's a place for this kind of show at all," he replies playfully. "It would require a private room and a proper bed."

Your eyes go wide and your whole body flushes in disbelief that mentioned a private room and bed and perhaps just implied he wishes to sleep with you. He notices the sudden change in your demeanor, and his eyebrows raise in curiosity as he glances down at you, quickly realizing exactly what he just said. He tries to play it off, his gaze going up and down your figure and flitting about the tavern in panic. "I wasn't... I was... well, not joking, but..." He trails off, he says, clearly embarrassed at his accidental slip of tongue, tucking his top lip between his teeth in shame.

Your face is bright red and your heart is hammering out of your chest and you say something that you believe may be the result of a bit too much alcohol:

“Unless...you want to...”

Unless you want to.

Rolan's eyes go wide while he processes your words to their entirety. Unless you want to. Though you seem to follow up on his joke, everything suddenly stops feeling so playful. His heart begins to beat wildly, and he struggles to respond to what you said. His head is spinning, repeating your words again and again, his gaze is blank as he stares at you.

He finally seems to snap out of his panic, takes a deep breath and speaks though he can barely get the words past his lips. "A-Are... Are you suggesting..." He pauses again, swallowing hard and unable to meet your eyes. This surely can’t be what he thinks it is…can it?

You bashfully look down and your hands are playing with the hem of your blouse, twiddling a stray thread between your fingers. ”I mean...if you wanted to...I wouldn't say no to it. Bedding me that is.”

Your eyes glance up from your sleeve to quickly meet his before returning to the thread on your sleeve. Rolan's eyes snap up to you, his heart hammering so hard he can feel it shaking the wall of his chest. His mind seizes. You want him to bed you? Him. You. Bed. Touching. Sex. His tongue lays heavy in his mouth and he can barely get out a single sound.

"I... I..." He pauses. No words seem to come to him strong enough to defy his tongue, so he simply nods his head in your direction and makes a small sound of agreement.

You note his inability to speak and the way his eyes are wide and jaw has slacked. To break the tension, you take a swig of your drink and clear your throat starting to believe that perhaps he doesn’t truly see you the way you had originally assumed.

“Unless you don't want to but I'm just offering...I quite fancy you, Rolan. I think you're grand and enjoy when we meet up like this. And...I've always wondered what it would be like...with you.” Your eyes are softly gazing at him, your cheeks flushed. It’s embarrassing and exciting all at once, your heart is beating almost in your ears and your stomach is filled with butterflies hoping he does indeed feel the same way.

Rolan's breath catches in his throat, so overwhelmed by your words and the offer that he feels unable to respond. His cheeks are still flushed with the blush that is starting to fill his face and he can’t bear to make eye contact with you for fear he might combust. He opens his mouth to finally respond, but again he finds no words. Instead he just nods his head once again, nodding furiously and saying yes to you, before he finally has the courage to bring his eyes up, never letting his gaze leave yours.

You chuckle and cast a coy gaze at him. The man with so many words is speechless for once. “Then if you'd like...we can go back to my place and...get comfortable.” It’s an offer you’ve wanted to ask him time and time again but never had the courage to do and a part of you is thanking the bit of alcohol you’ve had tonight for helping you be able to speak the words that have been mulling in your head for months.

His face continues to glow red with embarrassment, as he feels like he has been utterly disarmed by your words and your offer. Yet, a smile creeps onto his lips, his gaze never leaving yours. "Y-Yes... I think I would very much like that." You feel your heart soar and the butterflies in your stomach rise into your throat as you realize that perhaps he does indeed see you the way you see him.

“Then let us head to my apartment. It's not far from here.”

Your words are more confident sounding than you currently feel in asking a man back to your abode. You glance to him and Rolan nods his head once again, feeling his heart beating wildly and his breath coming in short gasps as he realizes this is all really happening, that you’re intending to do more than simply spend an evening in your apartment together playing cards. The flirtation and the passion between you and him that has existed for months was all finally culminating to the moment he wanted so badly, one he would never admit he had quite literally dreamed of to some much embarrassing results. He stands from his seat, reaching out his hand to you, his tail flitting nervously behind him. A slight laugh escapes your lips as you grab his hand and lead him from the tavern, ignoring the catcalls and whistles from behind the both of you.

Rolan doesn't care about the catcalls and whistles either. He feels too caught up in the moment; too caught up in the anticipation and excitement of what's to come. You hold his hand as you lead him along the street to your apartment, neither one of you saying a word as you walk between drunken citizens singing sea shanties and other citizens from the Lower City.

When you arrive, you unlock the door and take off your shoes in your quaint entry. It's a small studio apartment on the top floor with a window garden and bookcases lining the walls filled with books that overlooks the street below and has a grand view of the night sky and ocean. He glances around taking in the sight of your apartment and notes how cozy it is filled with plants and books of all kinds.

Rolan follows you inside, taking a closer look at the various pots and climbing flowering plants that adorn a small table and the copious amount of well-read books littered about in stacks. The apartment is surprisingly comfortable, making him feel more at ease than he has the whole night. He notes to himself that your abode is very much like what he had always guessed it would look like. His eyes scan the titles before he looks over at you, smiling softly at the sight of you inside your own home for the first time.

“I know it’s not much...but when you travel as much as me, you don't need a lot.”

Rolan gives a modest laugh as you finish your sentence, he nods, and then looks around a bit more. The book collections, the plants, the apartment itself all shows an interesting side of you that he has not yet seen but one he always imagined. Once again his gaze meets yours, and he can't help but smile "I think your place is... it's wonderful. It's a nice home."

“I'm glad you like it. Would you like some tea? You're unsure how one is to begin this sort of thing with a man.”

You tuck your hands behind your back waiting for his response. The moment of hesitation gives Rolan a moment to gather himself slightly, his breath once again coming in short bursts as he stares openly at you. He nods his head, not quite able to take his eyes off of you. "Tea would be... wonderful, I think."

Rolan watches as you put on a kettle and grab a jar filled with a peculiar bright flower. It’s a rare floral tea you obtained from your trip to Chult on an expedition the previous year. It's fragrant, soft, inviting.

He smiles quietly as the scent of the flowery tea fills the room.. He can't help but sniff the air and let it fill his lungs. The scent is inviting and relaxing, much like a fresh rain upon flowers, and makes him feel at ease again after the rush of emotions from earlier. He glances around the room again, a soft grin spread over his face, as he waits patiently for the tea to brew and walks to your small table.

As you pour the tea for the both of you, Rolan notices a book left open on the table next to a small bag of yours. His eye catches your book on the table, and he glances over to it nervously, wondering if he should be prying into something that could be private. He hesitates briefly, but then he is unable to resist the temptation of reading. It was only out in the open after all. He steps closer to the table, and glances over at it curiously.

It's your journal and in it, you have been documenting a variety of flowers and herbs along with sporadic notes, which appear to be the titles of books.

As he glances down at your journal, his eyes linger briefly on the title written at the top. "Field Study of Plants and Herbs." He looks down and sees that each page contains various notes and studies you've made from your travels. He smiles softly, looking up to you. "Are these from your travels?" He asks softly, the journal's cover close to his face now.

You smile and set down the cups of tea as you sit with him. “Yes...I've come to find many of the plants I've worked with have properties of not only healing, but also as potent poisons. Some even require a source of magic to grow...I've been working to document them for future potions. Most of which you yourself have seen when I come into Sorcerous Sundries.”

The journal contains so much information from your travels, and Rolan is in awe of the detail of your notes and studies. From the way you describe the plants, it seems like you've done a lot of experimentation and research on them even down to the most minute of details. "That's amazing, I had no idea the plants and herbs in these regions would have such properties,” he dexterously flips a page and scans another, “Are they found in many places?". He briefly sets the book down and grabs the tea you have gifted him, taking a slow sip and savoring the delicate taste.

“Unfortunately not...most require specific circumstances to thrive and maintain their magical properties. Some species are elusive and only found in the most difficult places to reach. However, that's what makes my work rewarding. Being the first to find them and make use of their properties.” You take a seat at the table and smile fondly as he admires your work.

Rolan smiles back at you, your passion and determination for your field making him feel a wave of admiration for you. You seem like the type of person that would seek out the impossible, and do what others couldn't. He takes another sip of his tea and sits down next to you, tucking his tail around the leg of the chair. "That's very admirable. I doubt many people could be able to say they've done what you have in the pursuit of knowledge and magic."

You blush and grasp your tea with both hands, tucking your knees to your chest. “It's the nature of being an alchemist I suppose. I just...I want to learn all I can so at least someone can make use of it.” You gaze wanders to the farside of the room where an alchemical elixir is currently distilling amongst a menagerie of glass vials, tubes, and beakers.

Rolan follows your gaze over to the far side of the room, taking in the sight of the various bottles and potions that litter the table. His eyes linger on the elixir, as he watches the liquids inside it change as it brews "Is that another potion you're making? Its color is very different from anything I've seen before" he chimes, his curiosity piqued by your setup.

“It is,” your voice is confident and warm, “I'm working on a substance which can be used to reduce magical sickness in those who can't appropriately expel the Weave from their body or who end up taking on too much of it. Namely for young Wizards and Sorcerers in training. It's made with Sussur bark I obtained in the Underdark. Would you like to see?”

You take a sip of your tea and tilt your head as you ask him the question. Rolan turns in his seat, his eyes darting towards the bottle of the brewing potion. He leans closer from his chair as he can't help but stare at the liquid inside it, fascinated by the change it goes through. "Would I like to see? I would be thrilled."

You set your tea down, get up and he follows you over to your alchemy table and you grab a small vial of prepared liquid. It shimmers and glows when the vial is turned, briefly emitting a shimmering blue hue that illuminates the vial as the liquid tosses and swishes inside. “This is the purest form of Sussur extract. Upon ingestion, it can almost completely eliminate the ability for one to use magic. It could be used defensively or for medicinal purposes. Think about the children who are practicing magic and intake too much of the Weave, causing severe illness. Being a wizard I’m sure you perhaps have had a few magical mishaps yourself. It could solve the problem with a single drop.” Your eyes glow beneath the agitated liquid, a sense of wonder and awe at the concoction you’ve managed to synthesize.

Rolan leans forward to get a closer look at the liquid you hold between two fingers, the glow it emits mesmerizing him. He stares openly and in awe as you describe the effects of it - even more so at the concept of people who can't properly manage their use of magic. He turns his attention back to the liquid and gives it a cautious experimental sniff as you remove the lid - it smells strangely sweet, like honey.

“Sweet isn't it?” You reinsert the cork before explaining its origins further. “It's a beautiful, mesmerizing flowering tree but very dangerous to get to as many creatures call its roots home. As you near it, it also completely dulls your ability to use magic so the only way to get it is with your bare hands and a sword.

Rolan nods his head in admiration. Your knowledge is something to be marveled at and he begins to wonder how you managed to attain it to begin with.

“This Sussur extract is certainly unique,” he says, admiring the small vial, "I'm starting to think the entire Underdark is built to be as hazardous as possible to outsiders."

You smile mischievously, quirking an eyebrow. “Oh indeed it is. The denizens aren't exactly...friendly to humans like myself. I don a drow disguise much of the time I'm down there. Pays to look the part for safety you know?”

Rolan's eyes light up at the mention of drow disguise "You disguise yourself as a drow? How do you even manage that? Doesn't that mean dressing up as a drow and speaking Common with a drow accent, all while trying not to betray the fact that you're not an actual drow?"

You chuckle at his idea. “Sort of. I can't cast much magic but I do know…” your words cut off as you wave your hands and utter a phrase and before his eyes stands the image of a female Lolth-sword Drow “..Disguise Self. Handy isn't it?”

His eyes widen and his mouth opens slightly as he takes in the illusion before him. He stares in awe at the drow's attire, her features. It really is a flawless disguise. He feels the heat rise to his cheeks slightly as he stares. He clears his throat and glances back up at you as you do a small twirl with a curtsy at the end.

"That... I can't even put it in words how convincing that is. I've always heard Drow have an eerie beauty to them, but I've never actually met one."

You do another twirl, much slower this time. “Surprisingly neither have I. At least a live one anyway.”

Rolan watches you twirl, his heart racing for a moment. He is very intrigued by you in this moment, your appearance and overall aura just making him feel... something strange. You're like an enigma and it only makes him want to know more about you. He smiles "So you've never actually met a live Drow? As in…you’ve seen dead ones?"

You dispel Disguise Self as you speak. “No, not a live one. I've come across the corpses of male Drow routinely and many Duegar and Deep Gnomes but never a living Drow. Most reside in Menzoberranzan and I tend to steer clear of the area lest I be caught. My disguise can only go so far,” your tone is serious but he is intrigued by even the notion that you’ve wandered the Underdark alone.

"Menzoberranzan, the city of spiders. I've heard of it, and I too would avoid that area if I could. The Drow have a very well-earned reputation for being evil and ruthless" Rolan says, clearly fascinated with your experiences.

You hum, placing the vile down as you lean on your desk. “I think this is partially true. They are a matriarchal society who uses men as breeding stock and only allows 2 sons per family. They sacrifice any more than that, deeming them a waste of resources. I've come to learn that these sons, or even adult male Drow who disobey their Houses, may be sacrificed to Lolth herself and become monstrosities. However, there are Seladrine Drow that I've heard of, peaceful drow that wish to be accepted by those above and who do not share the evil inclinations of their Lolth-sworn cousins. I’ve even heard rumors there are two who sell their intimate services at Sharess’ Caress from a few adventurers.”

A moment of hesitation precedes his next question as he processes the facts you’ve stated. "Do you know why a society like that even exists? Why they follow Lolth so devoutly?"

Again you hum in response before explaining, “Most people don't. The only reason I know is because there are rumors that the legendary Drizzt Do’Urden is a Seladrine.”

He nods his head "I've heard the tales of Drizzt and the heroic exploits. If there are truly Drow that possess these traits, how do they fare in the Underdark among their more aggressive race? Wouldn't they be looked down upon as outcasts?"

“Precisely. Which is why I ensure my eyes are red when I travel to gather supplies in the Underdark. Red eyes are a hallmark of Lolth-sworn Drow.”

Your explanation makes absolute sense. The Underdark has proven to be an unforgiving environment, one that does not tolerate any weakness or kindness. Those that do possess these traits, like the Seladrine drow, must either adapt or pretend to be cruel or be killed by others for their weakness. It makes sense then that they would blend in with the other Drow to stay alive.

“Hence why this bark and extract are so precious...many die trying to get it.” Your gaze turns somber for a moment and Rolan notes that you probably knew many alchemists and apothecaries who lost their lives attempting to get it.

"That extract and the bark from the tree itself must be incredibly rare, and I'm sure it can be used for a number of purposes. It's no wonder your research is so important - I can't imagine the amount of lives you would save in just making such a small amount of this extract. I can understand now why you travel and risk so much." His voice is soft, almost reverent as he speaks.

It brings a smile to your lips that he understands the magnitude of your work. “I find the rarest of plants and bring their essences back to this humble abode to synthesize the best potions, elixirs, and tinctures money can buy. Many of which you yourself have handled and are the first to see in use.”

Rolan stares at you, listening intently as you enter your passionate explanation. You seem so... happy. Your passion and energy is evident as you speak about your work and the ingredients you find and he is honored to learn you entrusted him with some of the first potions of their kind for study and use. He smiles back at you, tail swaying contently, admiring your charisma and devotion to your field. "Your work is astounding, the sheer amount of patience and dedication must be immense."

You smile at him brightly. “It's no different than yours researching magic and magical items, creating scrolls, finding new methods to manifest the Weave. My area just involves plants.”

Rolan chuckles at your reply "You make it sound so trivial. Your work involves hunting down the most dangerous ingredients you can find, risking your life in such a hostile environment that is so far beneath the comfort of civilization. I merely sit and read scrolls and research ancient texts; my work is far less taxing and exhausting than yours."

“You make me sound like a hero...I'm none of that. I just enjoy the rush of it all.”

Rolan shakes his head and smiles. "That is the exact reason why I say you are, in fact, a hero. You put your life on the line when you could just as easily go into a less dangerous and hostile profession that pays the same. But that's not what you desire - you need a challenge, a rush. You are like a thrill seeker, chasing the excitement and adventure that comes with your work and I am honored to be witness to many of your creations."

You blush as he gets closer to you. His words feel more meaningful than any compliment you’ve ever received as his words are not simply those of admiration but respect for your passion.

You can't help but feel the heat of your blush as it paints your cheeks, your gaze cast shyly away from Rolan as he steps closer to you. Your reaction is so adorable and endearing to him that he feels himself beginning to blush as well. Your eyes meet his and the two of you just stare at one another, the silence only becoming louder as the heat intensifies. The only noise is the pounding of your heart in your chest.

“Rolan...I think you sell yourself short on what you do. I think what you do is fascinating.”

Your eyes linger on each other, neither of you able to break away in some kind of awkward yet heated stalemate. The silence is palpable, and the heat rising between your bodies is intense as neither one of you can keep our eyes off each other. You comment makes the heat rise even more in his cheeks and he feels himself becoming more flustered and self-aware of the situation at hand. He nods his head slightly, not knowing what else to say. Finally, he musters up the courage to speak, as his eyes dart from your lips to your eyes "You really think so?"

“I do,” you grab his hands, “You've done so much for this city with your research and skills. Not to mention how you took over three years ago. I find it rather impressive…”

Your hand feels so soft in his and the touch of you feels like electricity - sending a shiver down his spine. He smiles bashfully at you, unable to hide how flustered he is. He clears his throat and nods his head "I've never done it for the purpose of the city's benefit. I've simply worked to further my magical knowledge. And..." he pauses, his eyes narrowing slightly as they look away, "I've never actually had anyone praise me so much before."

You're staring up at him through soft eyes. “A pity...you deserve more.”

His breath catches in his throat for a moment, the feeling of your soft gaze making him feel nervous and excited at the same time. He looks down at you again, your smiling face catching him off guard. He's never felt this strongly towards someone else before. He finally responds, trying to remain as composed as he can. "Perhaps you are right about me selling myself short, but I could say the same about you. Your talents and dedication deserve recognition."

“I don't do it for the recognition...I do it because it makes me happy you know?”

Rolan smiles, finding that he understands you completely. He nods his head in agreement "I know...I think a lot of people would be shocked to know that's why I do what I do. I could sit and read magical texts and scrolls all day and not be bothered by it in the slightest. I enjoy researching magic. It makes me feel excited, thrilled, and it gives me a purpose. I think more people need to follow their passions like you and I do. That way... a lot of people wouldn't be so unhappy."

“I agree. I love discovering new things, it only for the sake of knowledge.”

Rolan listens to every word you say, nodding his head. You seem so passionate about your work, as a researcher. “That is certainly something you and I have in common” he says, heat rising in his cheeks. He smiles at you before elaborating, "I think the two of us are very similar. We both strive to gain knowledge, to understand something new and unknown to us. I suppose that's why we get along so well..."

You blush as you lean against his chest and hug him. “I suppose that is…”

Your words trail off softly as you feel your chest against his. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you in closer. Your body is like a furnace and his heart is pounding loudly. He's never felt like this before - so nervous and excited all at once. Rolan looks down at you as your bodies touch, your soft body and beautiful face the only things occupying his mind right now. He wants to stay like this forever.

“Rolan...what I said earlier. I really do fancy you a lot.”

He freezes mid-sentence as you speak, feeling you tuck yourself into his chest further. He's been waiting for these words, dying to hear them from you. He wants to believe you mean them, that they're genuine. You tilt your head up away from his chest and he stares into your eyes, which seem to have a spell on them that won't let him look away. The silence is loud as you both stare at each other, neither of you wanting to break this intimate moment. His heart beats faster with every second that passes and he swears you can feel it too.

You’re gazing at one another, closer and closer you get, lips a mere breath from touching.

The two of you are so close to each other now. You feel like you can breathe in each other's energy. Rolan's mouth is millimeters away from yours, as the two of you hold each other tightly. You feel as if you have finally found something real...something pure. Your lips are so close, you can practically taste each other's breath. Your hands grip each other tightly, as if you never want to let go.

“Rolan...tell me you want this” you gaze up at him with pleading eyes, your hands gently grasping at his robe.

His breath comes in shallow, quick breaths as he gazes down at you. You look up at him with such intense desire that he feels his heart stop. He wants this, he needs this. Your lips are so close and he wants nothing more than to finally meet them.

Your eyes flicker to his lips.

At the hint of your eyes flickering to his lips, Rolan leans down slowly. Your eyes meet before closing and your breath hits each other's tongues. It's happening; you feel so alive in the moment. Your breath catches as your lips touch and you feel like you may never recover. All other noises from the street below drown out as you both finally kiss, your hearts pounding. Rolan's hands are gripped tightly around you, as if he cannot bear letting you go.

Your kiss is soft and sensual. His lips press to yours as he pulls you into a deep embrace. Your kiss turns passionate, his tongue sliding against yours and you can't help but moan into it.

The moan surprises him and his breath catches in his throat once more. He pulls you in closer, kissing you more intensely. He wants this kiss more than anything, you're like a magnet that he can't pull away from. The kiss grows more and more passionate, your lips sliding against each other, bodies pressing tightly together. With each breath, heat flows throughout your bodies, each one taking in the other's energy.

You move your hands to grasp at his back and bring him closer. You can't help but want more of him as he feels as though he's devouring every inch of your soul in his kiss, a price you would gladly pay to feel more of him in this way.

Rolan responds to your touch, moving his hands to hold your body tightly against his. Your body presses against him and he wants you all over him, his breath is short and fast as he loses himself in you. He moves to kiss you more, wanting to consume you with everything he has. His tongue explores your mouth, sliding along your teeth and lips, as he tries to make sure you feel him in just the right places while your hands hold him close. He kisses you deeply, he’s lost entirely in this moment with you.

You slowly break the kiss your chest heaving as you look up at him, your eyes are glassy and your lips swollen, chest heaving and mouth slightly agape. “Rolan...I need you to know something.”

Rolan looks down at you, breathing heavily himself. His eyes meet yours, as he's waiting for you to finish your statement. He wants to know what it is you wanted to say, whatever it is - he has a feeling it won't change the way he looks at you.

“I...I've never done this before…” Your eyes wander away from his bashfully as he holds you at his chest. His heart is pounding out of his ears as he tries to register your words.

Rolan feels his breath catch in his throat. He stares at you for a moment, not sure how to respond. “You've never done this before? You're a talented, gorgeous woman who could have any man she wanted - and he was the man you chose.” A rush of elation and pride washes over him, as if that one fact is enough to set him over the moon.

You sheepishly look away from him. “Perhaps it was foolish of me to wait but...I have had opportunities but turned them down. I only ever wanted to do this with someone I cared for and for the last two years....I was hoping that would be you.” You jolt into him and bury your head in his chest in embarrassment.

Rolan's heart leaps in his chest. Your words make his heart ache and smile all at the same time. You've been wishing this for years? That's a powerful fact to hear. That means that out of anyone who's wanted you, I'm the lucky one? Rolan can't help but smile bashfully, as he pulls you closer to him still. His lips graze your head, as he holds you close. The feeling of your body against his is so warm and comforting, like home.

You mumble into his chest. “Rolan please say something oh gods I'm so embarrassed....”

He chuckles softly, wrapping his arms around you tighter, bringing your body against his. He nuzzles his cheek against your hair and whispers in response, his voice soft and comforting. "There's no need to be embarrassed. I never would have wanted this to be with anyone else. It's... it's almost as if I've been waiting for this moment my entire life."

You look at him clearly still embarrassed. “I knew going into this that you perchance had more experience than me since you're extremely handsome and you're well...the Archmage of Ramazith Tower. You've got all of these things and I'm just the adventuring alchemist girl who makes interesting potions.”

Rolan chuckles, shaking his head as you continue your sentence. “You're such a shy, sweet girl, and it's endearing, you know that?” Rolan can't help but smile at everything you say. He strokes your hair gently and lets his hand slide down your back. "Oh... oh, my dear. First of all, you are not just a mere 'adventuring alchemist' - you are an extremely talented woman with the most creative mind I've ever seen in a mage. And secondly..."

You look into his eyes finally as he gazes down at you softly, awaiting his reply. Your heart is racing

His gaze holds yours intensely. Your heart is thumping against your chest, trying to burst out. He finally responds, pulling you in until your lips are almost touching "Your intellect is what drew me to you, yes... but it's your personality that made me want to stay. You're kind and sensitive, with a playful streak and a fiery nature. You care about the world in the most empathetic way, and you always try to do what's good and right, even if it's at your own expense."

You feel your heart flutter.

“You think all those things of me? Truly?”

Rolan's smile widens as he gazes at you, his lips an inch away from touching. You can feel his breath softly brushing against your lips "Truly... I've never known anyone who compares to you. You're more than talented, more than beautiful... you're truly the most incredible person I've ever met."

“Then Rolan...” your words become quiet briefly before steeling yourself and speaking confidently, “…show me. I want to be yours.”

Rolan's eyebrows arch higher in surprise, as he stares at you. But his eyes linger on your lips. In this moment, he can't help but want this, to be yours. To be with you. After a moment, he pulls you in for another kiss, this one more powerful and passionate than the last. You feel his hands grip you tighter, as his lips hold yours with intensity. He kisses you deeply, slowly at first but picks up quickly. His breath catches in his throat as he feels his body responding to yours.

You feel him grasping you tightly in his embrace and you wrap your arms around his neck to pull him deeper into the kiss. His kisses make your lips tingle and your body flush with heat. As you kiss him, you guide him back towards your bed while pawing at his robes.

He allows you to guide him. Your hands on him are like a spark that sets off a wildfire in his body; he cannot hold back the heat that builds within him as you guide him to the bed. The intense kisses make his heart race, his breath heavy and frantic. He can't believe this is happening. He cannot believe that you are here with him now. Your kisses make him want you all at once, the desire to give himself to you overwhelming.

You feel the back of your legs hit your bed and you bring your hands to his chest, grasping tightly at the fabric of his robes. You want to touch his bare skin, feel his skin against your palms, against your bare breasts. A desire to simply touch him consumes you.

As your hands grip the fabric of his robes, he cannot hold back a low groan. The sensation of your caress sends chills through his body, igniting a longing within him that he cannot control. He wants to be closer to you, to have you so close that no air exists between your bodies. The rush of your warm breath grazing his neck sends shivers creeping up his spine, all of it making him desire you more than he ever has. His hands move to grasp your hips closely as he keeps kissing you deeply.

You break the kiss and look at him with your cheeks flushed and eyes glazed with a look of palpable lust. “Can you...take your robes off? I want to…feel you.”

Rolan's face flushes, his breath ragged and quick. Your words sounded so innocent but were meant for something much more suggestive. After a long moment, he can only manage to nod as he begins to remove his robes, your eyes glued to every inch of exposed skin he reveals. Once he is completely bare, you can see the scars that cover his entire body. There are some long and deep scars while others are shallow and speckled. He stares back at you, his body pulsing with energy and desire. He wants you more than he's ever wanted anything.

As he stands there in only his breeches and boots you can't help but marvel at his bare torso. You run your fingers across the planes and edges of his chest, feeling the hard points of the ridges his Tielfing body possesses and ghosting over his many scars. His body is fascinating and it entrances you.

Your touch sends shivers all over his body. He moans softly as you caress his bare torso with the tips of your fingers, tracing the ridges like a map of his own flesh. Your fingers are soft and playful, and your touch is hypnotic. He lets out a deep shuddering breath, as every inch of his body responds to you.

Something inside you stirs and you bring your lips to his chest to feel the sharp edges of his Tielfing markings. They're rough and calloused near smooth skin, the texture feels odd against your lips but still pleasant. The sensation of your lips on his Tielfing markings has a strange effect on him. It is as if all of the nerve endings in his body are waking up, coming to life at the touch of your lips. His body shivers and his breathing grows faster as each second passes, his breath heavy with anticipation. He closes his eyes against you, the desire to feel you in every way possible growing even more. He reaches down to pull you in closer so that your bodies are pressed together, your lips grazing his skin like a delicate kiss from flames.

You kiss his chest going lower and lower, down the expanse of his chest and abdomen and you stop briefly as you approach the edge of his breeches before looking up at him in awe. You haven't been intimate with a man in this way yourself, but you have ready many a romance novel and seen plenty of erotic art to know what you could do for him in this position.

The moment of hesitation makes him laugh softly, as he knows exactly what you're thinking. At first, he can only watch as you hover near the edge of his breeches. But he's also incredibly aroused by your boldness and curiosity, knowing how much further you're willing to take this - something that makes his chest flutter and his breath catch in his throat. You are clearly a curious woman who likes to explore things and take things to their limits. You are more than he could have ever imagined, and it makes him want you even more.

You look up at him expectantly as his hands come to graze your cheeks, one of his thumbs rubbing against your bottom lip affectionately. He can only admire how incredible you look kneeling before him, your eyes sparkling with wonder.

The feel of his hands on your cheeks makes your heart race. You stare back into his eyes, seeing the hunger within them. You feel his breath heavy in the air, each second that passes only adding to your excitement. You can tell that he wants you badly, and the fact that he's taking the time to hold you in his gaze and caress your cheek makes you feel incredibly wanted and desired. The rush of emotions from within you feels like fireworks, your heart beating out of your chest with every moment that passes.

“Rolan...can I..?” Your words still in the air, your gaze meeting his.

He stares back at you, his breath shaky as he waits for your words. Your touch has him dizzy and his heart hammering in his chest. Your eyes are bright, your words just out of reach. There's not much thought behind it - he knows very well what you're going to ask. He can't help but nod slightly, his tongue slipping out to lick his lips. He wants this, wants you.

Upon seeing him nod, you carefully unlace his breeches noting his arousal as you do. Your cheeks are alight. This is your first time seeing a man so intimately, the blood beneath your skin heating your body as you knew what you were about to do. Your fingers ply inside the band of his breeches and undergarments and slowly pull them down over his manhood, your breathing is heavy, hot.

The sensation of you pulling down his breeches has a sudden effect on him. His body shudders and his breath catches in his throat as you reveal his shaft to the air around you. Your fingers brushing against his bare skin make him tingle all over, his body aching for your touch. He tries to maintain his composure as your hands work your way down, each passing second only adding to his aroused state.

Cautiously you reach a hand out and give him an experimental grasp and stroke to him. Rolan gasps and bites his bottom lip with a fang in response to your touch. Your hand is so soft against the hardness of his arousal. He wants to thrust his hips against your hand but he stills himself to allow you to explore him. Your experimental grasp sends a jolt through him, your touch the first to ever to do so. It’s cautious, gentle, curious. It’s fascinating his skin is so soft yet so firm beneath your touch as you work your hands up and down his shaft, noting the peculiar ridges upon it.

Slowly your hand works as you bring the other to his thigh to balance yourself. You've never kneeled before a man in any sense before and the sensation it brings you to kneel before him and see him panting and breathless stirs a growing feeling between your thighs.

The sensation of you kneeling before him is a rush it gets his blood pumping and sends sparks all over his body. His breath is still heavy and his eyes are glued to yours, every breath you take sending a jolt of excitement through him. He can't help but shiver slightly, your touch making every inch of his body sensitive and responsive as if sparks danced upon his skin. His heartbeat quickens and his breathing grows faster with every second that passes, every stroke of your hands upon his erect member. You touch him and caress him in a manner that sends shivers down his spine with anticipation and in his mind all he can think is more.

You feel him shiver and it fills you with pride knowing you are the one making him feel like this. You cast your gaze upwards and in a quick movement, take his manhood into your mouth. He cries out and throws his head back as his shaft of his cock caresses your tongue and you hum in satisfaction. The way the ridges of his member caress your tongue as you suck him, lick him, and slide him in and out of your mouth and between your lips is a sensation that makes you want even more of him. Rolan is panting and moaning as your movements grow quicker and you feel his fingertips and claws playing against your scalp, encouraging you to continue your exploration while his tail begins to whip wildly behind him.

The sensation of your lips and tongue caressing him sends a wave of heat from his loins out the rest of his body. He can feel himself beginning to lose control and his pleasure beginning to peak. You're breathing heavy against him and you can feel his hips rocking against your lips and you know he’s most likely close to release.

He stops you with a gentle pat to the head and tap to the cheek, picking up your head up to look at him. His heart nearly stops entirely as he looks at you and sees how erotic you look. Your pupils are blown out, cheeks brightly flushed, lips swollen and plump as a strand of saliva connects your mouth to his most intimate parts. It's so lewd that even he could never have imagined such a sight with you even in the confines of his wet dreams.

A wave of hot embarrassment flashes over him as his heart races at your expression. Your flushed and reddened cheeks send his mind whirling as he takes in this moment. When you look up at him, the moment of pause is overwhelming. Your lips are still wet with saliva from your exploration, the scent of you filling the air and making his head spin all over again with desire. He can't help but reach back into your hair, wanting to maintain this close contact between you two.

“Did I...do something wrong?” You ask, your brows knitted in concern.

He shakes his head slightly, keeping his gaze on your eyes as he moves his fingers through your hair "No, no, quite the opposite." He swallows hard, feeling his face still flush from the moment. "When you..." He sighs, not sure how exactly to describe it, "When you took me into your mouth like that... It was... It was incredible. I almost…came in your mouth." His cheeks redden with his admission.

You blush and look away, not realizing how incredibly lewd you look to him in that moment and how aroused the sight is making him.

The combination of your position and the visual alone is enough to drive him wild. The blush covering your cheeks and the way you look away, not even realizing how beautiful you are in this moment, drives him crazy with desire. He pulls your head back to him and stares you down, his eyes burning with a hunger as he keeps working his fingers through your hair and his voice wavers. "It was the most glorious sight I could've ever imagined, to see you so... open and submissive like that."

Your heart is pounding and your breathing is quick as you stare up at him. He brings his hands to the sides of your face and motions for you to stand before him, allowing him to kiss you once before he gently begins to run his hands over your still-clothed body.

As you rise from your position on your knees, he cannot look away from the sight of your body. Even covered by your clothes, he cannot help but stare at the way it shapes your form. He traces your curves with his fingers, and you can feel the heat emanating from every inch of his hand. Your breath comes quicker and heavier as you feel his hands wandering, exploring you.

A confidence stirs within you seeing him naked before you. You back away from him slowly and begin to unlace your bodice, one strand at a time, letting it fall to the floor before sliding your blouse over your head and tossing it somewhere behind you. Rolan is taking in your every action and sees your shy smile as your hands creep to your chest bindings. With a simple snap, they unravel from your chest, falling to the ground around you. His eyes grow wide in awe.

The sight of you revealing yourself to him sends shockwaves throughout his body. Your skin is pale and smooth, without a hint of blemish. Your breasts are perfect. Your shape is incredible. All the time he's thought about you in this way, all the times he's wondered what you might look like in such a state, all these expectations are blown away by the reality of you in that moment. He swallows hard, his eyes still glued to you as he struggles to contain the heat that is coursing through him. Oh how he wants to touch you, to grasp at the soft curves of your body and claim them as his.

You’re standing before him shyly now unlacing our own breeches and kicking your socks away, shedding the last bit of clothing left upon your body. Rolan can only stare at you jaw slack you stand before him, all of you, naked in the glowing light of the moon and the glow of the candles in your room. You glance away embarrassed at your nakedness and cross your arms in front of your breasts to cover yourself. A heat rushes through you as you realize you’re bare for him to see.

His eyes are wide as he gazes upon you in your naked state. Your body is perfect, and even the slightest movement triggers a response in him. His eyes are glued on you and he cannot help but let out a low growl from the sight of you. The way you cover your breasts triggers something deep inside him, the urge to claim you even more intense now. His breath is heavy and his fingers twitch, wanting desperately to touch you.

Your eyes quickly meet his when you hear the low growl he emits. It makes your skin prickle with gooseflesh and heat pool between your thighs. You're now an arm’s length away from him but you can feel the heat his body is emitting and can see his tail turned up in attention.

He reaches out and grabs your arms, his grip firm and strong as he moves them away from your breasts. He wants to touch you, to have you completely vulnerable and submissive before him. His eyes burn hot as he looks you over, wanting to see you covered in every inch of his affection. He glances down at your body briefly for a moment, eyes burning, before he moves his hands back up. "Look at me, please."

You cast a shy glance to him as you allow him to move your hands from covering your breasts.

The way his eyes are glued to you sends shivers up your spine, your eyes flicking between his gaze and his mouth. You can feel your own breath grow heavier as you notice his eyes moving slowly down your body again. He glances at your lips as he speaks. "It is all so perfect. You are perfect."

“Rolan...”You trail off finally having the confidence to press your naked body to his in an intimate embrace. He's looking down at your form and he wants nothing more than to make you his in that moment. To take your maidenhood and be the first man to claim the affection of the rare and delicate flower that you are.

The way your body presses into his makes his flesh prickle and a wave of heat rush through him. You look so small in his arms, he can't help but wrap them around you and pull you closer. The desire he feels is burning hot, his body shaking slightly. Your body is so soft, so perfect. The way he can feel you heat against him. He stares at you, his eyes burning, his breath still heavy. He wants to claim your body, to make you all his.

You look up at him as you break the embrace and scoot onto the bed behind you, bringing his hand with you and guiding him on top of you.

When you guide him onto the bed, he cannot help but get excited at the way your body is moving his way. He is on top of you with his weight balanced on his arms, hands still cradling you to him while his arms cage you in. The way he is staring at you is making you shiver, and you can feel the way his body is moving against yours. This is an incredibly intimate moment, and he is loving every second of it. You see the look in his eyes, the desire, and the hunger.

As he cages your body in further, you bring your hands up to his hair and loosen it so it falls in a curtain around the both of you. A smile plays on your lips and you give him a soft, chaste kiss, spreading your legs wide enough for him to slot between them. He sees your gaze looking over the planes of his face as you hold it in your hands. “Rolan...I'm ready.”

The way your legs move apart for him sends a jolt through his entire body. Seeing you spread your body and your most delicate parts for him makes his heart hammer in his chest. It's the most beautiful and arousing sight he could've ever imagined. He is breathless with desire, his hands gripping yours tightly as he can feel what has to happen next. "Are you sure?" he hisses, his eyes bright with want.

You nod in response. “Yes, I'm sure. I want you.”

This response sends more heat through him. His eyes burn hot with arousal. He moves slightly closer, his breath still heavy as he gets close to your face. He pauses for a moment, his mouth almost hovering against yours. He can feel himself wanting you even more now. He stares into your eyes and you can see the desire in his. His own cheeks are blushing, his body trembling and hot. The moment between you two is so heavy, so intense, and so erotic. "Are you ready?" he finally asks again.

You nod once more. “Yes…” Your answer is breathless

That sends another shiver through him. His lips part slightly as he moves down and kisses your neck, feeling your lips pouting slightly in response. He moves down further, kissing down your neck, down to your chin, down to your lips. He kisses you deeply, his hands moving down to your sides and tracing your figure. The sensation of your body beneath him is so sensual and exciting. Every inch of your skin and flesh is covered in heat and warmth, and your body is burning in a way he's never felt before. His kisses become harder, more frantic, and more intense.

He's kissing at your breasts and neck, a hand of his wandering to one of your breasts to knead it in his palms and caress at your nipples with his fingers. You whimper and cry out into his touch as he continues to kiss and explore your body. He is consumed, enthralled by the sounds his touch elicits from your kiss-swollen lips.

Each time your body reacts to his touching you, he is overcome with a rush of excitement. Every sound, every whimper, every moan, every movement you make is something that drives him wild. His body is trembling now as he continues to kiss you, his hand caressing your breast, his breath heating the skin beneath his kisses on your naked flesh.

His fingertips wander your body and you feel them making their way down the plane of your belly before sliding between your thighs. You feel his fingers tracing at your most intimate of parts and you can't help but moan into the intense pleasure he's plucking from your body as he traces between your folds gently.

The feeling is overwhelming, you feel as if every bit of your body is singing in pleasure.

“Ah! Rolan!” You yelp as you feel his fingers slowly slide inside of your body and hook against you. He begins slowly pumping in and out of your womanhood, his thumb rubbing at the sensitive bundle of nerves above. You've never felt such pleasure and your breathing is becoming ragged as he continues to tease at your body, the sound of your arousal squelching around his fingers and your pants echoing off the walls.

Rolan is kissing at your neck as he ensures you're properly prepared for the act that is about to come. He begins to feel the ring of muscles of your center tighten and he carefully removes his fingers and gazes at your breathless form lying beneath him.

He cannot help but gaze at you with adoration and desire, his eyes burning hot as you lie beneath him. Your body is writhing with want, your breath coming in quick, and the folds between your thighs are slick with your arousal.

You look at him and plead breathlessly. ”Please...”

His breath seems to catch at the word you use. His eyes become almost predatory as that is all that he needed. Rolan positions his hips to yours and slowly slides himself inside of your body, stretching you around the shaft of his cock. At first it's a searing burn, tight and tense but then gives way to a pleasant sensation of fullness. Rolan stills when he hears you cry out in pain beneath him. He pauses upon hearing your small cry of discomfort, not sure if he should continue. For a moment, he remains still as he looks down at you to gauge your reaction, his eyes searching your face for any sign he should stop.

Your eyes have tears in them but you look up at him to reassure him you're okay. “I'm okay...just adjusting.”

That's all he needs. His body begins to move, his breath heavy and his pace slow at first but gradually gaining speed and rhythm. He slowly thrusts into you and every glide of his body in and against yours makes you arc your back in pleasure. You can feel every inch of his body inside yours, the sensation of his manhood stirring heat between your thighs. Your hands come to wrap around him and grasp at the flesh of his back as he thrusts into you. You can't help but moan as he makes you feel sensations your own fingers have never granted you with every thrust of him into you.

His thrusts, once languid and slow, gradually moving harder and faster against you. Your legs instinctively come up to wrap around his hips and you cry out when he begins to hit a single spot inside your body over and over at this new angle. You know he's losing himself to you as he grunts and growls into sporadic kisses against your lips and neck, his tail thrashing wildly, bed frame rocking into the wall. “Ah oh gods Rolan I can't...it feels so good I'm- ngh!” Your words are broken by the pleasure tightening between your legs.

Rolan is lost to his urges and he begins to growl deeply, his teeth gritted, fangs on display as he ruts into you. His body is hot, flushed, filled with desire to complete you. You can hear his ragged breaths mixed with primal sounds resonating deep in his chest. It's a sound that makes your womanhood throb with want and your body shudder with a deep primal need for more.

You're panting hard and the sensations are too much, you feel the coil inside you tightening quickly ready to snap and you call out to him, your release is closing in. “I-I think I'm going to come! Please don't stop!”

He hears your pleading and continues his pace and suddenly he too feels his own climax rapidly approaching. It's all so much, the heat between your bodies, your sweet cries of pleasure and the wet sounds of skin meeting skin, the desire to fill you with a part of himself. He's holding out until he hears you cry out, your hips suddenly thrashing against him wildly, your hands clawing at his back as your climax rips through your body violently. The sensations and noises you're making have him speed his thrusts up before his hips stutter inside of you and he can feel your orgasm milking him for every ounce of spend he can give. He groans low and bites down on your shoulder as he fills your womb with his seed, slowly rutting himself into you as he comes.

You lie there together, panting in the afterglow of your mutual climaxes.

He continues to lie on top of you, his eyes closed and his breath heavy. He's still inside of you and still shaking slightly, all the heat coming off of his body. He lifts his head away from you, his eyes opening slowly. He gazes into yours, his eyes burning hot as he looks down at you.

You look up at him eyes half-lidded, lips parted in a small smile as your chest heaves.

Rolan leans down and gives you a kiss, his body still trembling slightly. You can feel his heart still thumping in his chest as your mouths meet. His tongue moves to trace at your lips, and his breath is still heavy from the intense pleasure. His kiss is sensual, comforting in the haze of your lovemaking. As he kisses you, he wraps his arms between your body and the bed and brings his tail to wrap around your calf. He's clinging to you intimately and you feel your heart skip a beat.

He pulls you even closer to him, pressing his chest against you, the both of you sticking together slightly as the light sheen of sweat on your skin cools. He’s holding you tightly, his body still trembling, but slowly regaining its composure. You can feel the heat and the pulse coming off of him. Your bodies, your souls are still connected in this moment of deep and genuine intimacy. It's a beautiful thing, and he knows that even from the way you look at him. He presses his body against yours and his tail snakes around your leg, brushing against you softly as he remains inside of you.

He breaks the kiss and asks how you feel, carefully bringing himself to hover slightly above you. You respond with a soft, love-drunk smile. “I feel...like I'm floating.”

He chuckles softly, his tail slowly slipping down your leg further. He nods at your response, his eyes still locked on yours "And I feel like I'm on fire. But in a good way." The warmth of the moment lingers with both of you as you lie there, staring at one another. You can see the desire in his eyes, but his breath is calming now, his body relaxed a bit more.

He notices you grimace briefly and chirp in discomfort. He's still inside of you but the mixture of your arousal and his seed is starting to uncomfortably seep out from you. Rolan notices this too and pulls out gently, trying his best not to make too much of a mess. His breath is still heavy and his face flushed with desire. He lies down next to you in bed as he puts his arm around you, his tail wrapping around you again. He stares at you, his eyes sparkling with a mixture of desire and affection. He's still breathing deeply and his body is still hot from your lovemaking.

You turn towards him and place a hand on his cheek to stroke his face and his claws gently scratch your back. The moment between you is indeed one of pure intimacy, as you lie wrapped in each other's arms, his hand still caressing your face, your nails gently scratching his back. You two share a look, your eyes locking softly as man and woman. The desire between you is still hot and heavy, your bodies still hot and flushed, and the moment fills you both with warmth and happiness. He can't help but smile softly, his eyes on yours as you look at him. He's still wrapped around you, his arm still snaked about your body and his tail is wrapped around you like a heavy rope tying you together. This moment is so perfect and intimate. He looks so soft and adoring, a hard contrast to his normal grumpy persona everyone else sees. It makes you chuckle and he's curious what has you giggling. He sees you chuckle at him and raises a brow, curious about what is making you laugh so.

“You just are so different right now...everyone thinks you're this grumpy, stoic wizard but not to me.”

As you say this, he can feel himself blush slightly. He shifts a bit in the bed, embarrassed. He feels as if he has just been seen naked, in a way. This is the kind of intimacy that makes him feel extremely vulnerable with you. For a moment, he looks aside in embarrassment but then finally meets your gaze again, smiling softly.

“I quite like this side of you...it's nice.”

His blush deepens at this response. He sighs and looks down, then back up to your eyes with a shy smile. It's rare that someone gets through to him this much, especially with his shell of sarcasm and grumpiness. It's nice to know you enjoy this side of him.

You snuggle closer to him and he wraps his arms around you and kisses the top of your head.

He can feel his heart racing at these moments of intimacy and affection. The warmth of you being in his arms is one of the most calming things he has ever experienced. He presses himself into you and you can feel the heat coming off his body, he's definitely still flushed from what happened between you two. He kisses your head and wraps his arms around you tightly, holding you close to him.

“Rolan...thank you.”

Your simple words cause him to blush deeply, his cheeks feeling like they're on fire. He smiles slightly and pulls you in a little bit closer to him, his body still feeling a bit warm from the intimacy between you both. He closes his eyes as he pulls you against him and speaks softly, his breath a little shaky. “No... I should thank you for tonight. It was... something I needed.”

“Something you needed?” You picked your head up to look at him curiously.

He sighs softly, his hand stroking your hair. You look soft and beautiful in his arms, a very comforting contrast to his rough and gruff exterior. “You know, I haven't... let anyone in like this. No one... not in a long time.”

You smile and nuzzle close before speaking. “Then I'm glad you were my first.”

Your words almost catch him off guard with their intimacy. He chuckles softly and his body is still trembling slightly, the arousal still lingering from between you both. He kisses your back gently and holds you closer to him for a moment longer.

“I was nervous...that I wouldn't be good enough for you since I was a you know...virgin. In truth you have a lot of my firsts now…” Your face turns read once more as your words trail off.

A smile spreads across his face when you admit this, his eyes beaming at you with affection. His hand runs lightly across your back and he nods in agreement with you. The idea of being your first means a lot to him not simply because he was your first intimate experience but because you trusted him enough to choose him.

“I'm glad it was with you. Perhaps I sound silly but ever since we met...I wanted it to be you.”

Your words are like music to his ears. Hearing this brings him another smile, one that is soft and heartwarming. He continues to caress your back softly, his heart swelling with emotions.

You sigh softly. “In truth I'm not sure where we go from here....we are both adults and I know you've got your own goings on. If tonight is all I get with you then... I am happy. You fulfilled a wish of mine and for that I can't ask for more. If that is the case I do think I'd be sad I ruined out friendship by being selfish...”

Your words make his heart sink, his breath catching in his chest as he hears you say this. He realizes that, in the heat of the moment, you may have gotten the wrong impression. He shifts his body a bit, moving onto his side so that he's now facing you fully. He speaks in a calm and soothing voice, one that has no edge of sarcasm or anger to it at all. He speaks to you with all honesty. “I... I want you. To keep seeing you. I... do not want it to end like this.”

Your eyes snap to his.

Your heart stops and your eyes widen.

“You want...to keep seeing me? Truly?” Your eyes are watering and it feels like your words are caught in your throat.

He raises a hand to brush the hair out of your face and his eyes are a mix of passion and intensity, but also affection.

“Truly.” It's an honest and solemn answer. He brings a hand to your cheek, and his eyes still hold the same fire and adoration. He nods at you a few times as he continues to hold you tightly, his words still being honest and genuine.

“As in...to court and be a...couple?” the words leave your mouth uncertain.

He smiles softly and his cheeks are burning up. He nods his head frantically a couple more times. This feels real, like he's finally let himself be vulnerable with you in these moments after he closed himself off for so long. You spring into his chest and he feels you start to cry as you bury yourself into him,

Your tears are the last thing he expected, but the instant he feels your body shaking and trembling his arms are wrapped tightly around you, holding you close to him. He rubs your back gently as you cry, his hand a soft and calming sensation compared to his usual stoic and prickly exterior.

You mumble softly, “Thank you.”

He rubs your back gently and holds you closely, his heart filled with a warmth he has never felt before. It feels so good to be this close to you, a woman he can be honest and open with instead of using sarcasm and grouchy behavior to keep people away. He lets you cry into him, he doesn't mind the tears and the only thing he wants to do right now is hold you.

Your tears dry and you bring your face to his and he sees how wonderful you are and how much you truly care. “I was so worried that tonight was going to be it for us I just...I am so happy right now.”

He smiles softly and wipes a tear from your cheek with his thumb. The idea that you thought tonight could be the last time you see him breaks his heart. You see his expression, his eyes shining with a hint of tears. How could he let you feel this way? He pulls you in a bit closer to him and holds you tightly.

“I'm sorry for crying,” You wipe your tears away,“I just...feel overwhelmed. Good things don't happen to me often.”

He shakes his head and caresses your face. You see that he is still a bit emotional, that this whole experience means a lot to him. He is used to keeping people at a distance. And you're right there in his arms, crying, vulnerable, but he feels no desire to pull away. No sarcasm, no anger, just the desire to caress the woman standing before him now. He leans forward and kisses you gently, and then he holds you tightly again, not allowing a single inch between you two.

You feel him wordlessly comforting you as you curl in on him and fall asleep in his arms. The silence doesn't feel awkward or uncomfortable. The two of you are in each other's arms and have just made love. It's a beautiful thing, this intimacy. You begin to feel yourself drifting off to a comfortable sleep, the feeling of his body still pressing against yours keeps you secure and safe. You can't sleep any better than this, knowing you have his strong and protective arm protecting you. You fall asleep, your heart still beating with joy from this evening knowing that your first would not be your last.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 fanfic #bg3 fanfiction #tav x rolan #rolan x tav #rolan #bg3 rolan #bg3 smut

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marmorafarms · 1 year

Text

"Good Boy" Sebastian x Cis female reader

This fic was requested by the lovely @darlingsama630

18+ ONLY please and thank you!

Summary: After a family dinner with the parents, you and Sebastian go home. Sebastian wants to know if he had been a good boy. You decide to respond accordingly.

Word count: 2,294 words

Warnings/content: fem dom, soft dom, sub Sebastian, face sitting, orgasm denial, cis female reader

I hope you enjoy!

"Thank you for dinner tonight Robin," you said warmly to your mother-in-law as you packed up to go home. You and Sebastian had been invited over to celebrate Demetrius' 50th birthday with a small get together. Demetrius was never one for huge celebrations, preferring to spend this time with family and family only.

"No need to thank me," Robin said kindly. "I'm just so glad you and Sebby showed up."

You turned to Demetrius, and shot him a gentle smile. "Happy Birthday Demetrius," you said. "I hope you had a great one!"

"Well, that rice pudding you made for me certainly made it better!" Demetrius said good naturedly. "I especially appreciated how practical your gift was. I always need a new journal to write notes in, and I hate frivolous items."

Robin rolled her eyes behind his back. Everyone in the room remembered with clarity the argument Robin and Demetrius had last year in front of the whole family. It was in regards to the new bed she had made. Demetrius had scoffed at how she chose beauty over function…though you still didn't understand that. It still did the job, it just looked pretty.

The whole situation had been awkward, and Demetrius left in a huff when you softly agreed with Robin that it was indeed a lovely bed. Maru had stared at the floor the whole time while Sebastian and Robin looked smug.

Sebastian had suggested you get him a pack of pencils since Demetrius always got annoyed when given anything that was deemed "not useful." You gave Sebastian a look, and he grumbled out that the two of you could buy him something a bit more personalized.

"You know," Robin said in a low voice as she walked you out the door, "You have been a fantastic influence on my son. To think your marriage started out with our husbands arguing over which spoon size was best…and has now bloomed into a wonderful birthday dinner without a single argument! Whatever magic you're working, keep it up!"

You laughed lightly, looking fondly at Sebastian who was politely pretending to understand an obscure science joke Maru had just made.

"I'll do my best," you said, and Robin grinned.

"I think it's your sweet and gentle nature that cools his heat," Robin mused. "I've never heard you raise your voice. When I first met you, I don't think I even heard you speak more than a few words to anyone in town!"

"I'm a bit shy, I'll admit it," you said bashfully. "I'm so grateful that this town has truly accepted me."

With one last hug from Robin and Maru, and a firm handshake with Demetrius, you and Sebastian headed back to the farmhouse. You talked casually about how it was nice to have everyone together again. Sebastian even made jokes about Harvey being at the next family dinner. But you both solemnly agreed that Demetrius would be passive aggressive about dating getting in the way of Maru's dreams so…maybe Harvey wouldn't show up after all.

When the door closed behind the two of you as you entered the living room, you could feel the mood shift. You went about your nighttime routine as usual, pretending not to notice a thing. As you were putting your clothes in the hamper, Sebastian cleared his throat.

Here we go, you thought to yourself.

"So," Sebastian said, standing at the foot of the bed, "Was I good?"

You kept your face neutral, but inside you were cheering, jumping up and down and throwing confetti. He was doing it.

The first time you had asked him to be good had ended in Demetrius and Sebastian nearly getting into a fist fight over who got to use the little spoon at the table.

"You were terrible tonight!" You had hissed at him when you got home.

"He was asking for it!" Sebastian said, arms thrown wide.

"You are 25, not 12!" You barked out. "I should punish you for this!"

At these words, Sebastian had gone still. The two of you were eyeing each other, both wondering the same thing.

"Maybe you should," Sebastian said evenly.

You walked over to your closet and pulled out a large box you had never shown him before. He had never asked about it, and you hadn't been sure when would be the right time to bring it up. You were aware of Sebastian's kinkier side, but this?

Rummaging around, you finally found what you were looking for, and presented the item to him. "You have to wear this," you said simply, "until you apologize to Demetrius."

Sebastian's eyes went wide. You were nervous, but you refused to let it show.

"A cock cage?" he asked, staring at it warily.

"Yes. I'll keep the key, and will unlock it only when you apologize to your step father."

Sebastian thought about it, and then nodded.

"Doesn't seem that bad to me."

Oh how wrong he was.

The poor boy couldn't cum for a whole week because his stubborn streak was preventing him from apologizing. When he finally gave in and was allowed to orgasm, it was one of the best he'd ever had.

That had started your play with orgasm denial. But when it came to meetings with Demetrius, you got to decide if he was good or bad. You had started doing a new thing for that situation. It didn't take the wizard much convincing to make you a bracelet that would prevent the user from being able to have any sexual pleasure. No sex, no masturbation, no nothing. It would deliver an electric shock every time the perso tried to get off. Sebastian was willing to try it out, curiosity winning over apprehension.

The best part was, only the person who put it on could take it off. You typically had him wear it for an entire week as punishment, and got great results.

But if he was good…

You pondered Sebastian's question for a moment and then turned to him.

"For the most part," you said.

"What…what do you mean?" he asked, fear in his eyes. You let out a low chuckle.

"You don't need to worry kitten," you said, using the name you only gave him in this situation, "you won't have to wear the bracelet. But you didn't wish your step dad a happy birthday. That's not what a good boy does."

"I'm sorry Miss," he said, ducking his head. "I should've done better."

"Should-a, could-a, would-a, DIDN'T," you said, narrowing your eyes. "You'll get your reward for not being a brat at dinner. But you still need to be reprimanded."

You walked over, and grabbed his jaw forcefully making him look at you. "Good boys get to cum. Bad boys don't. You know the rules."

"But…"

"I don't want to hear your voice," you said, letting go. "Strip."

Sebastian did as asked, quickly discarding his clothes in a heap. You looked him over, disapproval on your face, but lust in your heart. He had the body of a Greek god, and you lived to see him naked. You loved it when he sent you lewds, and on the rare occasion, full nudes.

But now wasn't the time to drool over his body. You had work to do.

"On the bed," you snapped, and in an instant he was sitting in the center.

"Eyes closed," you said. "I'm going to undress, but you don't get to look. Open your eyes once and you wear the bracelet. Got it?"

Sebastian squeezed his eyes shut and nodded.

"I asked a question," you snarled.

"Yes Miss, I understand," he said quickly. Pleased with his response, you slowly removed your clothing, making sure that he could hear the rustling of fabric. His dusky pink cock was rising to attention as he sat there, clearly listening closely. You knew he was imagining what you were doing, and it was an ego boost to know that the mere thought of you was making him hard.

You climbed onto the bed, and heard him whimper.

"Eyes stay shut kitten," you said softly. "Now lie back."

Sebastian got down on his back, and you climbed on top. You knew exactly what you were going to do, and were excited to begin.

"If you touch me, or buck your hips, you wear the bracelet for two weeks," you said firmly. Sebastian let out a whine, squirming slightly.

"Yes Miss," he said.

"Repeat to me what you won't do."

"I won't touch or–ahh!" he gasped, eyes nearly opening.

Your pussy was on his cock, and you were moving your hips, rubbing yourself along his length. He was lost for words, absorbed in the sensation.

"I said repeat what you won't do," you said calmly, continuing your movements.

"I-I won't…touch or…or b-buck my hips," he moaned out.

"That's right," you said. You leaned forward and rubbed your thumbs over his nipples. Sebastian was panting hard. You could feel his hips stutter as he forced himself not to move. He was trying so hard to be good for you.

You finally moved from his cock, and frowned as he spoke.

"What did you say?" you snapped.

There was a deadly silence. Sebastian had a lot of room to fuck up right now, and he knew it. Lying was not an option.

"I…I asked why you were stopping," he said meekly.

"I don't remember asking you to speak," you said. "Let's put your mouth to better use."

Sebastian was practically vibrating with anticipation as you positioned yourself, lowering your pussy down to meet his mouth. His arms jerked, but ultimately stayed still. You knew he was desperate to hold your hips.

"Lick," you commanded.

If there was one thing your man was good at, it was eating pussy. He had been a natural from the start, and the first time he ate you out you flat out refused to believe he hadn't done it before.

You moaned as his tongue explored your folds, darting inside you before flicking your clit. You rocked against his face, and you felt him groan in pleasure. The vibrations from his noises made you bite your lip, eyes fluttering shut.

Your hips rocked faster as you chased your orgasm. Any time you let out a word of praise, Sebastian moaned and licked faster. You liked feeding into his praise kink, it made everything so much better.

Crying out in pleasure, you let your orgasm overtake you. Sebastian continued to lap at you, your cum drenching his face. As you got off of him, you could see how painfully hard he was. It took all your self control not to slide down onto him.

"You did such a good job kitten," you said, and Sebastian flushed with pride. "Felt so good." You settled in between his legs and ran a finger down his length. Sebastian shivered.

"You even managed to keep your eyes closed," you said. "Since you've been doing well…you can open them."

Sebastian's eyes opened, pupils blown with lust as he looked you over. His eyes roamed greedily, and you knew he wanted to touch.

"Do you want something?" you asked.

Sebastian gulped. "Yes Miss," he said.

"What do you want?" you asked. "Good boy's use their words."

"Wanna…wanna touch you. Want you to ride me and let me touch you," he panted out. You raised an eyebrow at these words.

"You think you deserve it?" you asked.

"I've…I've been good!" Sebastian pouted. "Only a little bad…but I've been good!"

He looked so pitiful beneath you, and it melted your heart.

"You have been good," you said, and guided his hands to your waist. He looked at you in wonder, in disbelief that he could touch.

"Hold on," you murmured, and sank down onto him in one swift movement.

"Thank you!" Sebastian cried out. "You're so good to me!"

"You deserve a little something," you said with a smile. "But your hips stay still. If they move, this ends."

"Yes Miss!" Sebastian breathed, and threw his head back in pleasure as you began to move. It felt amazing for you, and you knew he was loving it too. His eyebrows began to furrow, and he pulled his lower lip into his mouth. These were tell tale signs that he was close. You smirked at him, and immediately stopped moving.

Sebastian let out a truly pathetic whine, and you laughed.

"You really thought I'd let you cum that easily?" you taunted.

Sebastian looked at you with wide eyes and a trembling lip. You clicked your tongue and shook your head.

"What do you do you do if you want to cum?" you asked in a sing song tone.

"Please," he whined. You rolled your eyes at him.

"Please let me cum," he amended.

"Better," you said, but still didn't move.

"Please!" he begged, "Please ride me, I want to feel your pussy on me, want it to make me cum! Please Miss!"

You smiled at him, and wiped away the tears forming at the corners of his eyes.

"Good boy," you said, and began to move again.

He didn't last long, hot ropes of cum painting your insides white. Sebastian howled in ecstasy, eyes rolling back. When he finally managed to regain his senses, you pulled off and laid down next to him. Your eyes locked, and you gave him a soft kiss.

"Shower?" you asked, and he nodded with a sleepy smile.

The shower was long, as was typical after something like this. Sweet kisses were shared, and, as always, you ended up with your legs around his waist, back against the shower wall, as he fucked you one last time.

The two of you fell asleep in each other's arms. He really was a good boy.

#stardew valley smut #sdv fanfic #sdv smut #stardew valley sebastian #sdv sebastian #stardew sebastian x reader #stardew fanfic #reader insert #female reader #my writing

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mostlyghostie · 11 months

Text

New book stickers have arrived!

I was thinking of which book opinions I needed represented in sticker form before drawing these, the books that first came to mind for each are as follows (all opinions entirely my own):

Either Adored or Loathed This, Not Sure: The Magicians by Lev Grossman- what a brilliant story filled with such unreadably unlikeable characters!

I Need to Read the Sequel Immediately: I have so far started all of the next Robin Hobb books the minute after finishing the previous one. I can't actually sustain that pace unfortunately because they're all 900 pages long.

Extremely Sad, But in a Good Way: All of my favourite books are this- most particularly the Elizabeth Strout's Olive Kitteridge books and Marilynne Robinson's Gilead books

Loved, Loved, Loved This Book: The last book I immediately decided was my favourite before I even finished it was The Fortnight in September by RC Sheriff, in which nothing happens except an English family goes on holiday in the 30's. Fucking brilliant.

So Good That I Bought a Fancy Special Edition: The only fancy special edition I own is His Dark Materials, it is indeed very good and important and wonderful.

Shouldn't Have Bought This, Never Going to Read it: 90% of the non-fiction books I buy that aren't about the Beatles sit unread and unloved. I have been meaning to read SPQR by Mary Beard for several years..

Didn't Understand a Word of This: I read 200 pages of Darkmans by Nicola Barker when I was at university and tried to reads the whole Booker longlist once. It made me feel like I'd forgotten how to read English

Relevant to All of My Very Specific Interests: I read Piranesi by Suzanna Clarke in one sitting, slack jawed in surprise at how exactly 'for me' it was. Unreliable narrator! No real explanation as to what is going on! A fantasy about characters rather than medieval England-ish settings and magic systems! So so fantastic.

This Has Not Aged Well: I pushed my way through to the end of American Pastoral by Phillip Roth, but my word.

How about you?

Instagram / Shop

#artists on tumblr #books #booklr #illustration #bookstack #his dark materials #literary fiction #elizabeth strout #stickers

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mcufan72 · 3 months

Text

Sugar and Cinnamon

Loki x female reader (AU) / 18+

Chapter 3

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2

Warnings: none so far, contains fluff, angst, morally grey stuff and smut (eventually), some teasing, sexual tension and some lustful feelings but I think it's still a slow-burn love story.

A/N: I had some struggles writing this down, it took me several days to get it right. Maybe this chapter still sounds better in my head than the written lines. But I hope you all like reading it.

A big thank you @poetic-fiasco 💚❤️ for a phrase you created in a completely different context (you know which phrase I mean) and for allowing me to use it. It's just two words but they fitted perfectly that evening 😅

Loki stood at the floor-to-ceiling windows in the large living room of his penthouse in Jersey City, New Jersey and enjoyed the first rays of sunshine in the morning. He loved the fantastic view from here over the Hudson River to the amazing skyline of Manhattan in the light of the rising sun. How far he had come. He still quarrelled with what he had done to this city and its inhabitants and the sick plans he had to rule this planet as their king. Fortunately, he got stopped right in time, further damage was prevented and after realizing his mistake, a mistake he made because he was being tortured and forced, he got the chance for redemption. He had made good use of it. The beast was annihilated in close combat and not at least because of his help and his extraordinary skills to talk, to lie, to trick, to use his magic and to fight.

In the beginning, many of the Avengers were wary and didn't trust him. But his brother never gave up on him, he never lost his trust in him or the love he had for him. Loki would always be grateful for it and yes, he loved his brother, too. Indeed. After many times in over ten years of proving his loyalty, his sense of justice, his negotiation skills and his will to fight for the right things, literally and figuratively, they all became friends, more or less, and since two years, mostly working as an ambassador and negotiator, he was allowed to live alone without any kind of “babysitting”. Of course, his brother still kept an eye on him and so did Tony Stark. But it became more and more a kind of visiting each other than controlling him. Loki was fine with that. He knew some things needed time to be forgiven and living under the radar when he came back to New York twelve years ago, under a fake name and in solitude, made things easier for him. People came to New York and also left this city again. It happens frequently in a metropolis with millions of population and also people forget easily in the fast pace and hectic of today's time. It also wouldn't be long anymore before he would have served his sentence and he would be free to go wherever he wanted.

While watching the first Staten Island Ferries launching for the Statue of Liberty and just clothed in black sweatpants, one hand in his pocket and a mug of coffee in his other hand, he was thinking of you. He still felt your body and your warmth in his arms. He shouldn't. He decided to live alone, unattached to a woman. He had his brother and his friends and that was already more than he deserved. Also, love and relationships never ended well for him and he was tired of getting his heart broken over and over again. Maybe a sinner like him with blood-drenched hands didn't deserve the love and affection of a woman at all. He was fine with only having sexual affairs from time to time with faceless, nameless women to satisfy his carnal needs.

But it has been a while now since he had a woman tangled in his bedsheets and getting a lusty distraction from his loneliness. He'd love to have physical contact again but not with another faceless woman. If he would share a bed with someone again it had to be you. You had entered his life and he couldn't get you out of his head. He loved your appearance, which was surely a fassade or sort of a costume, he was well aware of that. If there was someone who could relate to it, it was him. There was much more he liked about you, the lovely and decent woman behind that masquerade. He had already seen some tiny little glimpses of the real you, who were shoved into a situation you seemingly never wanted. He liked your attitude, sassy and cute, you were eloquent and smart. You knew what you wanted and what you did not want.

The little mistake you had made at the dining table didn't bother him at all. Nobody is perfect and he knew exactly what he was talking about. It just made you more adorable. But how realistic was his wish to sleep with you? You had made it very clear that you weren't interested in getting sexually involved with him. And he had told you the same. And wouldn't it be inconsequential to change his mind now? He also struggled with the ‘sex-only’-thing when it came to you. Didn't you deserve more and better? You shouldn't sleep with someone like him. Knee-deep in blood, sin and guilt. Guilty of murder. Guilty of having tried to conquer a planet and subjugate the people of Earth against their will. Your people. If you knew his real identity you would hate him. Abysmal hate from the bottom of your heart perhaps. You were an angel and he was the sinner. Heaven and hell. You two had nothing in common, nothing was binding you. You were his escort, his distraction. His distraction from pain and loneliness. And he was just your client, one of many who paid you for your service, who paid the money you urgently needed for who knows what. But he hated that other men touched you, and spent time with you. He knew his blood-drenched hands weren't worthy to touch you at all but other men weren't worthy to touch you either.

Damn, he shouldn't have danced with you. Because now he wanted the feeling of you in his arms over and over again. Yes, it did things to him and that evening, when he physically was so close to you it wasn't easy for him to suppress an erection. But this urge to hold you in his arms again wasn't just sexual. He wanted to feel your warmth, your closeness again and not least he wanted to enjoy your company again. And he wanted to take care of you. A care you surely wouldn't want or need. He didn't deserve you but he wanted you, wanted to be with you, no matter what and he must find a way to avoid that other men would ever lay an eye or a hand on you or take advantage of you.

All of this was the reason why he wanted to book you for next Saturday. He had already sent an email to your agency promptly after your first date and expected the confirmation for the appointment during the day. He would go to the opening of a small art gallery with you, an event he actually didn't want to go to. He didn't really like to go to exclusively social events without a business background. He had decided otherwise now because it was a perfect reason for booking you to escort him to this event …and to see you again. You came into his life and only then he realized how utterly lonely he was. Maybe at least it hadn't been a good decision to live a life in solitude. Should he ask you for a shared night? Would you agree? Would it be too soon and too offensive to ask you? If you'd agree to share the bed with him, you’d have to follow some of his rules because there was still this one thing he could never let you know.

Besides all of this, he would give you all the money you needed without getting anything from you but it seemed you would never take his money without giving something in return. He was sure you wouldn't even ask him for money and you probably had good reasons for it. Loki took a sip of his coffee, reached for a random book on his impressive bookshelf and tried to distract himself by reading a few lines. He made himself comfortable on his sofa and began to read. It didn't work. His thoughts always drifted back to you.

**********************

What should you do now? You sat at the table in your apartment, your lunch untouched on a plate next to you. You weren't hungry. There was a lump in your stomach and it took away your appetite. How should you manage all of this? Your studies, the bills, the increased rent for your apartment and your mum's nursing home, visiting her on Sundays, daily dates with men you had to escort to functions, and from now on appointments for the weekends, too. You should focus on your studies and finish your degree to get back to a serious, well-paid job again. You didn't want to work as an escort lady for the rest of your life. But your study was so expensive that you ran out of money sooner than expected. You still had some saved money but you needed it for something else so you wouldn't touch it.

There have been times when you had all the money and possibilities to afford an apartment like this, your mum's nursing home and the care for her, and a nice life with all its amenities. And because of one silly mistake your whole life crashed down. But maybe you didn't deserve it any better. You sat in front of your laptop and stared at the files of your bank statement and your busy schedule. Now there were some options. There were just two if you were being honest. You could twist and squirm all you want, you wouldn't earn enough money, not even as an escort. You could move into a much cheaper and even smaller apartment which wouldn't be easy in Manhattan, unless you liked to live in a rathole. But you had to try it and in the worst case, you would live in a rathole, for heaven's sake. Also, you could earn some more money a bit faster if you…the thought made you cringe but you had to do it, you had no other choice. But there was only this one man imaginable for you, the one who had told you, he only wanted to be escorted by you and nothing more. And after that dumb mistake at your first real appointment with him, you had been sure you would never see him again. Luke Larsson was a man who didn't accept unprofessionalism. And yet he had been very nice to you and you appreciated it.

You took a sip of your coffee and calculated your financial issues for the umpteenth time. It was to despair. Would you ever find a way out of this fucked up situation? Sometimes you wished you could go back to your little village in the south of Great Britain, back into your little happy bubble, far away from trouble, bad news and harsh reality. Back to the times when you baked cinnamon rolls with your mum every Sunday afternoon. Life was peaceful there but those times were over. Welcome to reality!

Taking another sip of your coffee, you were closing the laptop lid, when a pling was signalling an incoming email. You opened the laptop lid completely again and opened the mail. It was from Rhea. She had promised to send you the further details of Luke's next appointment with you.

Hey dear,

I hope you're doing well. As promised earlier, here's the update for your appointment with Mr. Larsson.

It's on Saturday afternoon and I hope this fits your schedule. It's a gallery opening so I hope this information helps to choose the right clothing appropriate to the occasion.

Mr. Larsson will wait for you at the gallery, Walker will drive you there. He'll pick you up at your home at 3 pm. If you have any further questions, feel free to call me and please mail me your confirmation for this appointment so I can inform Mr Larsson.

PS: please remember the date with Mr Rogers tonight. I'm sorry that he had booked you at short notice. Have fun!

Take care, dear

Rhea

Luke had booked you again. He really wanted you to escort him again and you still couldn't believe it. Thank goodness he was not resentful and hadn't told Rhea about your stupid mistake. He gave you a second chance and you looked forward to seeing him again but you felt nervous at the same time. Things were getting real now. Should you offer him your advanced service? He didn't flirt, that's what he made very clear to you but the way he danced with you and looked at you has been very close to it. And it felt good. You barely remembered when it was the last time someone had looked at you like he did that evening.

Anyway, will he say yes? Why should he say yes and also pay for it? He could have any woman he wanted, they surely lined up at his door to spend a night of debauched passion with him. This man was pure sex. Women probably fling themselves at him daily. Your heart clenched painfully when you pictured him with other women, more lovable and more desirable than you. But you had no right to judge him or the other women for it. You had no right to think and feel like that. At least he was a man with carnal needs. You didn't have an exclusive right to meet him. It was the other way around, he decided if he wanted you to escort him or not. You should better be grateful that Luke wanted to meet you again.

You should give it a try and offer him to sleep with you. Couldn't be that difficult. It was just sex, right? You never cared much about sex, you never understood what the fuss was all about. Your exes never had much patience with you when you needed a bit longer to feel satisfied and maybe you had always been the problem. So what. A quick fuck, in and out and in between moaning a little horny and he would be done in three minutes. You were good at faking orgasms. Pretending you enjoy it as much as he does shouldn't be that difficult for you. He wouldn't even notice it, men never noticed. You always thought you would be too decent for that, having sex with a client but you had already fallen so deep…and fuck decency. Life gave a shit about it…so why should you!

For now, you should focus on your next date tonight, Mr.Rogers. You would meet him at a dancing hall. You like dancing and for now, it would be a good distraction from your current problems. It seemed a bit old-fashioned to go to a dancing bar where they played old classics from the 40's and 50’s but you were sure you would've fun and a decent gentleman at your side tonight. And after tonight you had just one more date and then it would already be Saturday, when you would see Luke again. A little smile curved your lips and you headed to the bathroom to get ready for tonight. It was time for Sugar's performance.

Your date for Friday night got cancelled. You were already waiting at Vivian's Velvet and having your obligatory glass of champagne at the bar when Rhea sent you a message. Your client got ill but maybe he just changed his mind. It didn't happen very often but it happened. Well, you had a free evening now, and you still got paid because it wasn't your fault the date was cancelled so you had some time to think about some rules and boundaries for sexual intercourse with clients. Or should you better say, rules for having sex with Luke? There were definitely some things you wouldn't do and you should be well prepared for a clarifying conversation. No perverse shit, no hard-core sex and the most important thing: no kisses! And falling in love is strictly forbidden, for both sides. Sex only!

You would never fall for a client and you would never fall for Luke Larsson. Not for his stupid, soft obsidian curls, not for his broad shoulders, his strong arms or his long legs, not for his incredible charm, or his beautiful eyes, not for his devastating smile, no matter how handsome he was or how fast he made your heart beating. He was your client and that's all he'll ever be.

On Saturday morning you've gotten up early to have enough time for grocery shopping, doing the dishes and cleaning up your messy apartment. Books and papers for your studies and clothes, your normal ones and those you had worn for your dates, were spread all over the floor, chairs, the table and the sofa. The daily appointments on weekdays had a deep impact on your daily routine. You were so tired sometimes that you didn't have the energy to clean everything up daily. And from now on you won't have the weekends either to relax a little bit. So you were in a hurry now because your appointment was already in the afternoon today and you still had to shower and prepare yourself for the gallery opening. You weren't sure if you were ready to ask Luke if he wanted to sleep with you but you'd definitely ask him. The pressure to earn more money quickly was getting higher and you've come to terms with it that you had to expand your service.

After showering you looked through your closet to find an adequate outfit for a gallery opening. You decided to go for an elegant, refined trouser suit in pastel pink, combined with a white blouse with a deep neckline, and white high heels. Underneath you wore white lace underwear. You loved this sexy set of bra and thong but it let you look more innocent than you were. You hoped Luke would like it, in case he would accept your offer tonight. With your hair in a tight bun with the knot deep in your neck and dark pink lipstick on your lips, Sugar was ready to meet Mr Larsson.

Walker drove you to the gallery where Luke was already waiting for you. Walker got out of the limousine but Loki gestured to him that he wanted to open the door for you. The moment you got out of the backseat and took the hand he was offering you, you were directly under his spell again. He looked so dapper and seductive in his suit which was midnight blue, combined with a tight-fitting white shirt, its collar open, his beautiful neck on perfect display. His look was completed by black Oxfords and a silk scarf around his neck. The scarf shimmered in the darkest shades of blue and green you had ever seen. The scent of his cologne was alluring and you wanted to bury your nose into his soft hair that framed his incredibly beautiful face perfectly. Indeed, he was a god in a suit or maybe he was the devil himself. A handsome devil, seductively hot, ready to take you with him into his den of desire, ready to burn with you in hell. Damn it, your imagination was running too wild.

“Good afternoon, Sugar. Thank you for coming. I'm glad to see you and you look beautiful again”, he greeted you gentlemanly and you came back to reality.

“Good afternoon, Luke. Thank you for your compliment…I think I look a bit like candy floss…,” you answered jokingly and turned in a circle once, a big grin on your face.

“Sorry, I don't quite understand…” Loki said and looked quizzically at you. For him you looked lovely, like a beautiful, sexy angel.

“Candy floss, it's mostly pastel pink and… made of sugar… nah, forget it, it was a bad joke,” you smiled at him and shook your head lightly and Loki smiled back at you. He looked so pretty when he smiled. “Thank you for booking me again. It's a pleasure to accompany you to the opening.” you continued kindly.

“Don't worry, it wasn't a bad joke. I just don't know what candyfloss is and to me, you look beautiful,” he told you. It was what he honestly thought and he could imagine that you probably taste sweet like sugar. “I hope you like art?”

“Oh yes, I do. I'm already excited to have a look at all of the artwork.” You replied genuinely and Loki smiled contentedly at you.

“Then let's go inside,” and he offered you his arm which you took gratefully. It felt so good to touch him.

Inside, you two were greeted by a middle-aged beautiful woman who was the gallery owner and an old friend of Tony Stark. She gave you a short introduction to the artworks in her gallery and that you should feel free to get drinks, canapés and sweets from the buffet. Just from the way she looked at Luke, you could tell she was enchanted by him and you couldn't blame her for it. But you felt something inside of you you should better not feel at all. It felt as if she would take him away from you and he wasn't even a friend of yours. You should better not forget what you were for him. You were his escort, something like a fake date and he was your client. While he was still in conversation with different people who seemed to know him, you strolled through the exhibition until you stood in front of a painting you couldn't keep your eyes off.

*************

Loki tried to end the several conversations he was drawn into, quickly because you were already on your way through the gallery and he wanted to spend the time with you and not with random guests who came to the opening. First, he couldn't find you, there were so many people in there but around the next corner, he finally found you.

You stood in front of a painting you couldn't stop staring at. A painting with a golden elegant vase filled to the brim with all sorts of wildflowers, tulips, roses, daffodils, lilies, and peonies, loosely arranged in it. As elegant as the vase was, as wild and untamed were the flowers. Loki couldn't stop staring at you and enjoying the view of the woman he began to care about. It touched him how fascinated you stared at the painting and how you were able to zone out the world around you. You literally bathed in the effect of the picture which it obviously had on you. He gave you further moments of enjoyment before he walked towards you, his hands in the pockets of his trousers.

“Do you like it?” He asked you politely

“Yes,... it's beautiful. I don't know why, it's just…the flowers, the colours…it just put a spell on me. The flowers are pure life, colourful, beautiful, wild but destined to wither and die because they got cut but still…they are pure beauty and I can literally smell their various wonderful scents.” You were still captivated when you whispered under your breath so Loki couldn't hear it “... and they remind me of home…like your British accent…”

“Yeah, it attracts us, it's winning us all over whether we want it or not. Some things have this effect on us,” he replied and walked closer to you.

Loki had an idea why you liked the painting that much. The motif reminded him of you: elegant and pretty as the vase, and wonderful, wild, free, untamed and colourful as the flowers. But if he would paint this picture of you right now, the vase would lay shattered on the floor and the flowers were crushed and stepped on, everything broken and sad. That's what he saw whenever he looked into your eyes and he wished he could help you with more than just his money.

“Is that so, Luke?” and you turned towards him.

“What do you mean? “ He looked at you from above. He was so tall and so close to you. It was now or never. You knew if you wouldn't do it now, your courage would leave you faster than you could imagine.

“What is it that attracts you?” and your one hand softly caressed his outer thigh, travelled upwards over his really adorable butt, kneading it gently, and then farther upwards to the waistband of his trousers. Your actions went straight to his cock which twitched against the confinement of his slacks. Your gaze was pure seduction and your hand on his body was hot like fire. He grabbed your wrist at lightning speed.

“What are you doing there, Sugar?” he murmured darkly, frowning.

“Testing the waters. Testing if you're really not interested in flirting. I can feel some…tension between us, if you know what I mean,” you whispered and your gaze wandered down from his eyes over his lips and his body to his visible bulge. Were you really capable of doing this to him? Or did he just get hard because you might promise him a quicky? Your gazing down at his manhood didn't go unnoticed by Loki. What were you up to?

“Stop being naughty, Sugar,” he growled darkly.

“Why? Don't you like it when I touch you?”

“We have a deal. Don't forget about that. And besides, you have no idea what you're asking for.”

“Really? Maybe I know exactly what I'm asking for. And deals are negotiable,” your words were dripping like honey from your mouth.

“No! And you have no idea what it means to tease me!” Loki responded firmly.

“Uhhh…now I'm curious. Don't play hard to get, handsome,” you cooed.

You knew you were playing with fire. But didn't all men say things like this? And then they promise you endless pleasure just to be done in three minutes or so, leaving you unpleasured and you were sure he wasn't any different. You were used to it and it didn't matter. But maybe you were completely wrong. Seeing him how aroused he got, aroused you too and you wanted to feel him close. Much closer than you had already felt him when he danced with you. You wouldn't evolve feelings for him, never, absolutely not but all of a sudden your body craved attention, touches and some adoration. Against your expectation, you almost felt bad to let him pay for having sex with you. But you were an escort, not his girlfriend and the escort lady got paid, period!

“Wanna sleep with me tonight?” Your shameless offer caught Loki off guard and he immediately let go of your wrist. He played it cool and his facial expression turned to stone. He couldn't believe that you offered him your body so willingly. He should refuse it. But then you would ask another guy and he couldn't allow that. Who knew how another guy would treat you? He also couldn't deny that he wanted you, that he craved your touch and your attention. But what the hell made you do this?

You grabbed the loose ends of his scarf and pulled his head gently down and him closer towards you so you could speak right into his ear.

“There's nothing to it, Luke. Just two needy bodies, giving each other some pleasure to get some steam off. What do you think? ”

What were you thinking? What if he declined your offer? He could have any woman in this city and he wouldn't even have to pay for it. You weren't any special, just expensive to book, and if he says no you would've made a terrible fool out of yourself.

“I think you still haven't an idea what you're asking for…I'm not a tender lover,” he grumbled.

“It doesn't matter, tenderness is for beginners. I'm not scared of you.”

It was just the half of the truth. It didn't matter because the few men you had been with hadn't been overly tender but you were afraid of him, not in a bad way though. You had a lot of respect for him, he radiated dominance and masculinity and it aroused you, he aroused you and that was what made you fear him. He made you feel good and safe and that scared you.

“Do you offer this…special service of yours to other men, too? Despite that, you told me you're done with men.” He had no right to ask you this. He had no right to be jealous or possessive. He shouldn't go too far, you weren't his and you could do whatever you wanted. But it made his heart clench when he thought about other men touching you.

“If I do, it's none of your business! And I'm free to change my mind about men. I do what I want.” You whispered firmly into his ear.

How dare he ask you that? It was a normal thing many escort ladies did and there was nothing wrong about it. It happened frequently and consensually. But you didn't judge him for that question and it didn't surprise you that he thought you offered sex to your other clients too. He couldn't know you weren't doing it.

“I won't discuss it with you. So, your decision …do you want me or not?” you purred into his ear.

“Are you really sure you want it? If so, to be very clear, don't expect anything more than just the physical act. I just copulate, don't expect any feelings of love from me. Nothing will change that." His voice was pure velvet in your ear and his warm breath fanned over your neck to your cleavage. It made you shiver pleasantly.

“Well, that's fair enough. I'm not looking for love, as you should know.”

“We still see it the same way then.”

“We do, Luke”, and you loosened your grip on his scarf, put your hands on his chest and let them tenderly travel down over his pecs to his midriff before you took them off of his gorgeous body. Even clothed you could feel every perfectly defined muscle.

Loki had goosebumps all over his skin. You made him feel too comfortable around you and to his astonishment, this feeling wasn't just sexual.

“So we have a deal?” you wanted to know.

“We have a deal”, Loki confirmed. Your hands travelling down his torso hadn't helped get rid of his erection, not in the slightest.

“Then let's go to my hotel later. It's one of the best in Manhattan. I'm sure we'll have a lot of fun. Scottish whisky for you, champagne for me and…nearly whatever you want, including me.” You were so nervous. Would he like you? Could you satisfy his needs? How rough would he get? You'd definitely need a glass of champagne before you could let him touch you and a cigarette afterwards.

Nonetheless, you'd try to enjoy it. He was such a gentleman and you were absolutely sure he would treat you well and respectfully. And he smelled so good. It was like a drug. Also, you had some rules and if he wouldn't respect and accept them, you would definitely not sleep with him. And you had Walker, he would always protect you.

“Nearly whatever I want? What does that mean, Sugar?” he questioned softly.

“What I said. But I have rules. Strict rules.”

“Of course, you have. And I have mine. We should talk about them later. I don't think it's the right place here for that”, he whispered.

“Yeah, I suggest we settle the matter later in the hotel. Walker will drive us there”, you offered him.

“That's a good call”, he answered, nodding in agreement.

“Fine.” You licked your lips and bit lightly into your lower lip. Loki gasped inwardly. Why were you doing this? Suddenly he turned his head to the side.

“Is everything okay, Luke?”

“I don't like how that guy looks at you”, Loki growled quietly.

“Which guy?” you wanted to know.

“The guy across from us” and you followed Loki's gaze.

“Let him stare.”

“Absolutely not. You're here with me. No one stares at you like this”, Loki murmured and he put his arm possessively around your middle and pulled you close to his side. Absolutely no one was allowed to look at you like this when you were with him.

“He's just jealous of you, Luke. Maybe he likes my trouser suit...or he's a peeper. Don't worry, I'm still your arm candy”, you tried to calm him down but you couldn't suppress a grin.

If looks could kill, the poor guy would die in an instant. You put an arm around Loki's waist and placed your other hand on his chest. His heart was beating so fast, like yours and you both looked at the guy. Loki with a death stare and you with a bright smile. You loved this game you played together. And it made your heart swell that he got angry just because of a random guy who looked at you. None of your exes had been like this. Under different circumstances, you two would be a wonderful couple. The guy immediately looked away, obviously feeling embarrassed and frightened, and turned around.

“Would you please take your hand from my chest?”

“Just in case you let go of my waist.” you offered him sweetly.

“Sorry, I didn't want to…” and he cleared his throat.

“It's okay, Luke, don't worry. We're going to get much closer tonight…Shall we look for some canapés and drinks? It seems, you could need a cooling down”, you said with a quick look at his crotch. Was there a rosy shade on his perfect cheeks? “…oh and I want a dessert…”, and you took him by his hand and pulled him with you to the buffet.

“You and your desserts”, he laughed, amused.

“You should try them some day”, you smiled brightly at him.

“No, thanks, I'm good”, Loki answered, trying to sound serious.

After having some drinks and snacks, you ate the final bite of your dessert and licked the last bits off of the spoon and your lips. Loki was wondering if you did it on purpose. It seemed you liked to tease him and to add to the sexual tension that was obviously still buzzing between you two. It was still palpable. You knew how to seduce and it made you even more desirable.

“Shall we have a look at the other works in the gallery before we leave? I'd like to see them.”

“Anything you want, Sugar. We have time, don't we?”

“I hope so…or are you eager to get to the hotel soon” you teased him.

“I might be horny but I can control myself.”

“Really? That's rare. Most men can't wait to blow their load,” you answered lasciviously and smiled knowingly. You wondered where your self-confidence came from. The thing that was to come was new terrain for you. Shouldn't you feel more nervous? But maybe this was just how you tried to downplay your nervousness.

Loki smirked and rolled his eyes.

“You really amaze me. You're such a beautiful and decent woman but you've such a filthy mouth.”

If only he knew. If you ever have been decent, your decency would soon be gone. At the latest when he fucked you. He would see you differently then and maybe he would also lose his respect for you. And that was one of your biggest fears.

🌹🥂🥃🌃🌹🥂🥃🌃🌹🥂🥃🌃🌹🥂🥃🌃🌹

Tag list:

@lokisprettygirl @faesimps @anukulee @fictive-sl0th @fandxmslxt69 @chantsdemarins @justjoanne242 @gruftiela @stupidthoughtsinwriting @wheredafandomat @lovingchoices14 @lokixryss @huntress-artemiss @smolvenger @km-ffluv

#loki x female reader #loki x reader #loki x you #loki x reader fluff #loki laufeyson #loki x reader fic #loki x reader angst #loki x reader smut #loki x female reader fluff #loki #loki x female reader angst #loki x female reader smut #loki x fem!reader #Spotify

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forbidden-sunlight · 10 months

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yandere!kusuriuri with chise!reader headcanons

Warnings: obsessive behavior, violence, and blood.

There may also be possible triggers in this story.

If you do not feel comfortable venturing any further, please hit the ‘back’ button on your computer device or computer and read something much more pleasant than a possible series of unfortunate events.

Hello everyone and welcome to the first part in this 2-3 part series, featuring the beloved Medicine Seller of the classic anime horror series, Mononoke, and the character!reader who is Chise Hatori from the fantastic world of The Ancient Magus Bride.

I’d to give a shout-out to @saltyfruitbat and @enryegotrip for their feedback and help with some of the parts I had difficulty writing! :) Thank you guys, you are awesome!

So without being said, sit back, relax, and let’s dive into this world of magic and madness :)

PART TWO

PART THREE

PART ONE: A FOX’S BLESSING

Inari-sama loved all of his children.

Kusuriuri knew and respected him as both his creator and the god of foxes, patron of merchants and swordsmiths. Yet for all of his daily prayers and offerings he had placed in his creator’s temples as he journey across the country slaying Mononoke, his patron was displeased with him. Inari-sama had offered him a reward for all the good deeds he had performed in this realm as a zenko every time he came to visit, and every time he refused. Kusuriuri did not need or want anything. Hearing Inari-sama’s words of gratitude is a reward in itself. His patron is unconvinced, however.

Inari-sama took a leaf from Benzaiten-sama’s scroll and decided that such a hard working child should have a companion to accompany him on his travels, someone to share his burdens and trials and accomplishments. In Kusuriuri’s case, he deserved to have a bride. Kusuriuri most certainly did not want or deserve a bride because slaying Mononoke is his only mission and purpose. Refusing his patron’s generosity, however, is an insult of the highest degree, equivalent to vandalizing any of his temples or blatantly denying his very existence.

And so Kusuriuri was left with little choice but to graciously accept Inari-sama’s gift…if he is permitted to test any potential candidate to prove their worthiness. Inari-sama accepted his request, but told him not to take too long in finding his bride and not to make the test too difficult. Kusuriuri promised, vowing to keep his word.

Yet as the days stretched to weeks to months to years, Kusuriuri met many candidates….but none of them passed his test. Just when the country entered the Meiji Restoration era, Inari-sama visited him again in a newly constructed temple, an extension of the main one, the Toyokawa Inari Temple, lined with thousands of statues built in his creator’s likeness and surrounded by trees. The serenity almost made Kusuriuri forget that the roads were no longer made from dirt and overgrown weeds, but from asphalt and emitted the noises of carriages and people walking from one place to another. Inari-sama was not pleased with him. Even as the zenko bowed his head to his patron, lowering his head until it touched the wooden floor, Kusuriuri could sense Inari-sama’s annoyance.

“You have not found a bride, my child. You gave me your word.” Inari-sama said. “Benzaiten has begun to wonder if she should offer one of her precious potions to help with your…situation.”

I do not deserve such kindness from Benzaiten-sama, my patron.” Kusuriuri replied smoothly. “I have searched for a bride…but none were able to pass my test, most unfortunate indeed.”

“If you are lying -”

“I am not.”

Inari-sama became silent, for only a moment, before Kusuriuri heard the pit-pat-pit-pat of his creator’s feet on the floor, walking towards him. He did not dare look up even when Inari-sama’s paw pressed against the back of his head and felt something wet warm lick his right thumb followed by a brief, white-hot sensation.

“It is done.” Inari-sama proclaimed. “Raise your head.”

Kusuriuri did so, looking directly at the massive stone statue of his patron, any trace of his presence vanishing even when he continued to speak to him.

“Leave this temple and follow the path that lies ahead, through the torii gates and beyond. Do not stop until the red string of fate guides to where you must go. Farewell, my dear son.”

Kusuriuri bowed to the statue, pulling the ropes of his medicine box over his shoulders before he departed the temple. Down the stone stairs, past the statues, and stopped at the torii gates, which were now lined with paper lanterns, the sound of suzu bells permeating the humid air. He glanced over his shoulder back at the temple before his feet carried him through the first gate.

As the medicine seller walked, he noticed the torii gates dwindling, replaced with archways of ancient trees and paper lanterns transfigured into iron and glass, the flames glowing brightly as the forest grew darker. The air became cooler, and were filled with creatures he had never seen before; large lizards with iridescent wings ridden by smaller, humanoid beings covered in feathers and had antennae on top of their heads, laughing in silvery voices alongside tiny spheres of light. On the ground there were creatures dressed peculiarly, draped in moss and wore stone helmets. A couple of them even wore redcaps and carried shovels, a Western tool that has recently been imported into the country …although he can say with certainty that this place is no longer his homeland, and he longer possessed a human form.

He had been transformed back into a fox, yet his medicine box hadn’t vanished. It only shrunk to accommodate his current physical state. This was not good, because he cannot use the sealed sword of exorcism to slay Mononoke…but could he even call these creatures Mononoke?

He continued to follow the trail, the red string pulling him to the edge of the forest that led to a vast field. In the distance he could see stone houses lined up, leading to what might be a village. When he took a step forward, Kusuriuri yowled in pain. Looking down, he saw that his left paw had been caught in a steel trap. He was about to summon his magic to release the mechanism when two hands suddenly appeared, pulling the trap apart. Kusuriuri quickly removed his injured paw and looked up at the owner of the shadow that suddenly loomed over him.

It was a boy, no, a young man with light brown skin and wavy black hair, dressed in black trousers, a striped shirt, and a black jacket. Kusuriuri thought he’d be a human if he did not possess bright red eyes that were glaring at him.

“Who are you?” The not-human asked. “You’re not like any fae I’ve ever seen before.”

“And you are unlike any Mononoke I have seen.” Kusuriuri quipped, tilting his head. “Perhaps…an inugami?”

The not-human frowned. “I suppose you’re welcome is a bit much to expect from a fox.” He said, glancing down at the bleeding paw. “Can you walk?” Kusuriuri took a step forward, wincing slightly from the jolt of pain. The not-human sighed.

“Figures.” He leaned forward, scooping Kusuriuri up in his arms before standing at his full height. “I’ll take you to my master, she’ll fix you up in no time. Don’t even think about declining because she will force you to take medicine. Seeing anyone, neighbor or human, hurt bothers her a lot.”

“And what, pray tell, is a neighbor?” Kusuriuri asked.

The not-human trudged through the moors as he explained that ‘neighbor’ was just another name for fae, a race of beings that have the ability to conjure magic for themselves or to aid others. If the medicine seller saw ones that possess a human form but have wings and talons, those were the prank-loving Ariels. The not-human, introducing himself as Ruth, is a Church Grim. He was tasked with chasing away robbers from a church before he formed a familiar contract with his master. Fae existed all over the world, but they were ruled by the King and Queen of their kingdom.

Kusuriuri hummed. So, there were different creatures than Mononoke in this world. He looked down and saw that the red string, now tied to his ankle, was glowing brighter and began tugging him forward even when he was securely held in Ruth’s grasp. The moors transformed into cobblestoned streets and he can see the stone houses more clearly; some were large, some were small, there were gardens and there wasn’t. The one Ruth took them to was a large two-story residence lined with meticulously trimmed flowers on either side.

It would have been a lovely sight but seeing dozens of sheep with glowing blue wings floating around the house rattled Kusuriuri, making his fur stand up on end in alarm. Ruth must have seen the look on his face, saying, “Relax. These aren’t neighbors. The wooly bugs are closer to animals and very few individuals are able to see them. Well, here we are.” He approached the wooden door, grabbing the golden knob and twisting it to the left.

“I’m back.” He called, stepping inside. “[First Name], I’ve got a patient! Some stupid human laid another bear-trap by the forest’s edge again!”

Kusuriuri glanced around. The area they were standing in by the door was the place to leave shoes, but there were hooks nailed into the wall, and a folded umbrella in a tall, cylinder-shaped bin. As Ruth moved further into the house, his mind began to spin in confusion.

Instead of being separated by sliding doors, the kitchen and the dining rooms were open, covered in wooden furnishings, lights were suspended from the ceiling, and the walls were covered in paper that had irises on them yet they weren’t painted by hand. There were books, paintings, and potted plants everywhere, and so many doors on the left and right side that Kusuriuri’s headache worsened.

Western decorations were so much more complicated than the ones in his homeland.

Eventually Ruth entered a room where there were windows that let in natural light. Towers of books laid on the wooden floor even when there were more bookshelves pressed against the wall. Hunched over a desk, surrounded by glass beakers, mortar and pestles and coiled burners and notes scattered across the space was a young woman dressed in unusual clothes who lived in an unusual house with a snippy Church Grim.

This is how Kusuriuri met his final bridal candidate; the mage of the countryside and overseer of the Fae, [First Name] [Last Name].

[“She’s not a guardian, moron. If anything, they flock to her.” Ruth grumbled as he watched his master apply ointment and bandaged the guest’s wounded paw once the blood had been wiped away with water.]

In his defense, Kusuriuri didn't know there were others that existed in this world except Mononoke. [First Name] chastised Ruth for being rude to their guest in a soft, low voice reminding him how confused he had been when he first became her familiar when all he had ever known was the church he’d been protecting. Ruth had the grace to look a little ashamed, though blithely said he doesn’t trust their guest either.

[First Name] raised a brow, leaning back against the wooden chair. “You never trust anyone who approaches me, Ruth. But couldn’t you say that I’m not as afraid or reckless as I used to be?”

“I beg to differ. You haven’t changed at all.”

“Being a bit harsh, don’t you think?”

“No.”

As the Grim argued one-sidedly with his mistress, Kusuriuri stared at [First Name]. At first glance, she didn’t seem remarkable except for the clothes she wore. If they were back in his homeland, she would dominate the Meiji era’s fashion trend, the embodiment of an independent woman. Shiny, healthy [Hair Color] tresses were pulled back by a [Favorite Color] ribbon, cascading past her neck, inquisitive [Eye Color] irises twinkling with curiosity and amusement. Immortal child of Inari-sama he may be, Kusuriuri could never accurately determine a human’s age.

He did wonder, in the back of his mind, why her left arm looked as if it had been carved from dark wood to resemble a dragon’s claw rather than flesh and blood.

According to mythology, the zenko are benevolent servants of Inari, kitsune who descend to the mortal realm to perform good deeds in their patron's honor. Some of these zenko are said to be incredibly powerful.

Given to the mystery of Kusuriuri's origins in Mononoke, it is strongly implied in the series that he is not in fact a human, but something else entirely. It is possible that Kusuriuri is in fact a zenko, though we will never know for certain...

Taglist:

@saltyfruitbat

@lunchisreadyy

@himurakenshin25

@themoonisrising

@nastysparrow

@littlemintsister

@sketchlove

@i-am-the-pirate-queen

@praisethesuuun

@simpgoddess3000

#forbidden-sunlight #yandere male #yandere x reader #x reader #yandere #ns.fw #mononoke medicine seller #mononoke medicine seller x reader #mononoke kusuriuri x reader #mononoke kusuriuri #chise!reader #mahoutsukai no yome

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supersaiyanjedi14 · 3 months

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Just got done watching the new episode, and can I just say that I freaking LOVE Sally's conversation with Poseidon? This scene not only demonstrates just how much Sally loves her son in spite of the various struggles, it also touches on just WHY Percy is the hero he is.

As an urban fantasy, PJO is one of a long line of stories that involve the mundane intermingling with the fantastical, specifically in the context of someone from our world entering into this wildly different one. Superman, Narnia, Harry Potter, just off the top of my head. What makes these stories stand out is that, even when the protagonist gets adjusted to a world of magic and monsters, it is the fact that they come from good old normal Earth that keeps them and their worldviews grounded. No matter how many wizards and aliens they bump into, they are still coming from the position of a human being. Superman may be an alien who bumps shoulders with god-like beings, but behind it all is Clark Kent, a guy from Kansas raised to be a kind and decent person by two people who were shining examples of humanity themselves.

That right there is a big part of who Percy is. Percy's spent most of his life surrounded by gods and monsters with a view of the world that is so wildly different from our own we cannot begin to understand that. But Percy doesn't come from that world, he comes from OUR world. He's not a Greek god intermingling with the puny mortals, he's a kid from New York who understands the people around him. If Percy had been brought up at camp and raised as a demigod, he would have gone hand-in-hand with the Olympian way of doing things, no questions asked. But Sally didn't do that. She brought him up to be a boy first, demigod second. It's what allows him to look at how the gods act and say "No, this is wrong." He refuses to go along with the BS, because any decent person can see that this manipulation and ego flexing is no way to treat people. And this feeds right into his motives for opposing Kronos and Luke. He's not fighting for the gods, he's fighting for the world he actually came from, a world where opposing evil is right and just, not an opportunity for glory.

And Sally and Poseidon both know this. They wanted Percy to grow up separated from all this toxic crap, because they knew he would emerge all the stronger, and more importantly, better, for it.

"I'm Sally Jackson's son" indeed.

#percy jackon and the olympians #pjo #pjo show spoilers #percy jackson #pjo meta #to use another superman reference #poseidon makes him super but sally makes him a hero

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anonymousbeefriendfanfics · 1 year

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My Thoughts on Touchstarved

So, I've finished the demo! Let me start off by saying that I love the story! The concept is awesome, I adore that you can choose your own background, I love how immersive the setting is, everything is just... amazing. I can't wait for the full game to come out! Especially with all the special treats we're getting from the Kickstarter goals, it's going to be fantastic! And now, my friends, I shall share with you my thoughts & Headcannons for each of our lovely love interests, in order of appearance. If you'd like to see more, my requests are open!! I haven't gotten any for Touchstarved yet but I'm itching to write for them, I just... need some inspiration, so the more the merrier!

Kuras

First of all: pretty. I love his design, it's wonderful. He looks so ethereal! And very doctor-y, which was the point.

Can we talk about the hair, though???? How cool is that?? I love it. It looks very soft and fluffy. And so long... Could you imagine sleeping next to him? You wake up and you're drowning in floof.

He's very kind and gentle, but is obviously holding back. He distances himself from people, and like everybody else on this list, he needs to find someone he can really trust to open up and be himself with.

And he stays so busy, like... when does he ever take the time to relax? I know the city needs him and his clinic, but he deserves some time off, too.

To be honest Kuras gives me kinda like.... asexual vibes? Maybe demisexual? Idk, maybe I'm reading too much into him being reserved, but. I just feel like he either wouldn't be interested or he'd want to fall in love with someone before taking them to bed.

Leander

I love him, he's incredible. So talented, so kind!! I love the respect the Bloodhounds have for him, and how willing he is to go out of his way to help a stranger.

Also he blushes very easily and I love it, he's absolutely adorable

I am very very curious how he got so much skill with magic, because that doesn't seem to be normal. I bet it has something to do with his secret.

He very clearly has some serious trauma in his past, too. I wonder how he got that scar, if it has anything to do with his magic, if it is indeed the same scar running from his face to his arm....

Seems like he drowns his trauma in alcohol, his gang, and keeping himself very busy. Poor thing clearly doesn't get as much sleep as he should.

I think he just wants to be loved, but he's afraid to let himself be too vulnerable.

Vere

Foxboy Foxboy Foxboy Foxboy Fox-

Can I just say that I'm a little bit in love with his design. I mean I am with all of them but. Especially Vere. I love foxes and it's just. *Chef's kiss*

He's a cocky lil son of a biscuit tho. That tongue of his is quite sharp... as are his teeth~

I feel like he'd flirt with a Soulless to get what he wanted. In actuality he'd just murder it, but... you get my point. You're never sure if he's gonna seduce you or slit your neck.

Literally if Sage and Rime from Last Legacy had a child.

He's absolutely not trustworthy but I wanna get to the bottom of things and form that trust with him.

Romancing him would be very interesting. He's always three seconds away from eating you, but the question is... will he eat your soul, or your [redacted]?

Ais

He reminds me far too much of my friend's OC, and for that, I am the sliiiightest bit obsessed with him. At least that gives me a headstart on his characterization.

Would sell you to Satan for one cornchip, but fortunately MC interests him enough to keep them around

And Princess???? Oh my god. My heart. I adore her, I adore him, yes please

And he calls the MC "Sparrow"!!! That's absolutely precious. I love how he has nicknames for people, it's wonderful

Ais seems like the person who will tell you he doesn't care what happens to you and you can go get yourself killed for all he cares, then move heaven and earth to save you once you're even slightly in danger.

Mhin

Baby needs a hug. Enough said.

l absolutely adore them. They have stolen my heart.

And yes, maybe I do have the slightest bit of a savior complex, shut up. I'm just addicted to the hurt/comfort angst of it all, okay?

Literally hates everyone and everyone hates them (Except for, y'know, Kuras) because they're such a grumpy little loner and dear god just let me love you, let me teach you what love is.

They definitely fit into the whole "stronger than they appear" archetype because they're specifically mentioned to be pretty scrawny, but they have an impressive amount of strength and holy hells they're good with that dagger. That's incredible skill

I just. I want to break down those walls and earn their trust and teach them they have someone they can rely on who won't betray them, no matter what happens or how dark things get.

I just want to cuddle them and reassure them that everything's gonna be alright, is that a crime?

#beefriend-writes #touchstarved #touchstarved game #touchstarved kuras #kuras touchstarved #touchstarved leander #leander touchstarved #touchstarved vere #vere touchstarved #touchstarved ais #ais touchstarved #touchstarved mhin #mhin touchstarved #touchstarved demo

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onlycosmere · 1 year

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OUTSIDE by Brandon Sanderson

Snow is falling. So I look up.

The world mystifies when you stare up through falling snow. Even standing still, you can soar. Even alone, you are surrounded. Even mundane, you find magic. I’ve spent my life chasing the fantastical, yet everything I’ve ever imagined can be casually matched by someone tilting their head up. The soft. Settling. Aspiration.

Of snow on an otherwise ordinary day.

When I was eighteen, I moved from Nebraska to Utah. Here, snow is fleeting, embarrassed to be an obstruction. But in Nebraska, snow squats. It claims land, builds empires. You fight it all winter, carving pathways, reconquering your sidewalks. The cold digs inside, frosting your bones with a chill that lingers, even after you return to warmth.

I often think of those snowy days, now that I live in a desert. But each year my memories are a little less fresh. We build our lives with layer upon layers of years, like falling snow. And like the new snow, most experiences melt away. In interviews, I’ve been asked to recount my most frightening experience. I struggle to answer because it’s the lost memories that scare me—the unnerving knowledge that I’ve forgotten the majority of moments that made me who I am. Those dribbled away when I wasn’t looking and joined the spring runoff of life.

Fortunately, some experiences do remain. In one, I’m fourteen, and it’s a cold night in Nebraska. My best friend at the time was a boy we’ll call John. Though we went to different schools, he was one of the only other Mormon kids around, so our parents often had us play together. When you’re very young, it’s proximity—not shared interests—that makes friends. This often changes as you age. By fourteen, John had found his way to basketball, parties, and popularity. I had not.

On that day, after a youth activity, another friend suggested we leave to go have some fun. I don’t remember where. Strange, that I’ve lost what this was about, though the rest of the scene is etched into the glacial part of my brain. One of us was old enough to drive, so we headed out to their car.

Five seats. Six teens. They’d already counted.

Without a word to me, the others climbed in. John gave me one hesitant look, then settled into the front passenger seat and closed the door. They left me on the curb. The car vanished, taillights flaring in the night like lit cigarettes.

The memory settled in for the long winter. That night. Watching. Remembering John’s face, which was so strikingly conflicted. Half ashamed. Half resigned.

I was no stranger to being outside. It happens when you’re one of three Mormon kids in a large school. You’ll be at a birthday party, and the wine coolers will come out. Everyone stands there worrying you’ll judge them—while you just want them to stop staring. But you leave anyway, because you know they’ll enjoy themselves more if you and your unusual morals aren’t there to loom.

It should have been different that night though, watching John and the others drive away. They were in my church group—ostensibly, my tribe. They’d still left me outside.

This event shocked me in how dramatic it was, as I wasn’t generally bullied. I tended to be adept at social settings. People generally liked me. At the same time, there was something I’d begun to notice. Something distancing about me.

It happens still. It isn’t that people shun me or don’t want me around; indeed, they seem to appreciate me. When I join a group, I generally end up leading it in some way, and I never sense resentment to this fact. But I also have an air around me. Some writer friends call me the “adult in the room.” I tend to attack projects too aggressively, tend to be the one who steps in and gets things done—even when they don’t need to be done immediately, and when everyone else would rather relax.

This comes, in part, from a certain…oddity about me that started in my young teens, around the time that John drove off. As my friends grew hit puberty, they became more emotional. The opposite happened to me. Instead of experiencing the wild mood swings of adolescence, my emotions calcified. I started waking up each day feeling roughly the same as the day before. Without variation.

Around me, people felt passion, and agony, and hatred, and ecstasy. They loved, and hated, and argued, and screamed, and kissed, and seemed to explode every day with a pressurized confetti of unsettling emotions.

While I was just me. Not euphoric, not miserable. Just…normal. All the time.

Often, it genuinely seems like I exist outside of human experience. It’s not sociopathy. I’m quite empathetic—in fact, empathy is one of the ways that I can feel stronger emotions. I’m not autistic. I don’t have a single hallmark of that notable brand of neurodivergence. It’s also not what is called alexithymia, which is a condition where someone doesn’t feel emotions (or can’t describe them).

I care about people, and I feel. I’m not empty or apathetic. My emotions are simply muted and hover in a narrow band. If human experience ranges between a morose one and an ecstatic ten, I’m almost always a seven. Every day. All day. My emotional “needle” tends to be very hard to budge—and when it does move, the change is not aggressive. When others would be livid or weeping, I feel a sense of discomfort and disquiet.

My emotions do go a little further than this on occasion, maybe once a year. It takes something incredible—such as being deeply betrayed by someone I trusted.

I’m not looking for sympathy; I don’t want to be fixed. I appreciate this aspect of my makeup—and it’s part of what makes me so consistent at writing. When everyone else is in crisis, I’ll just steam along. At the same time, when everyone else is elated by some good news…I’ll just steam along, unable to feel the heights of the joy they feel.

It makes people uncomfortable sometimes. Makes them think I’m judging them. While I’m absolutely not, I do try to be careful how I talk about my condition. Not as something to fear. Something, instead, I’m proud of—not because it makes me better than anyone else, but because it’s me. I like being me.

My neurodivergence came up in a recent interview I did. The interviewer latched onto the fact that I don’t feel pain like others do. (More accurately, some mild pains don’t cause in me the same response they do others.) I asked the interviewer not to mention it in his article, as I felt the tone to our discussion was wrong. I worry about my oddity changing the way people think of me, as I don’t want to be seen as an emotionless zombie. So I try to speak of it with nuance.

As the interviewer ignored my request, I thought I’d talk about it here. Profile myself for you—because this aspect of who I am has deep ties to another happening from my teenage years. In this, I want to answer a big question for you, the one everyone wonders about. The key to understanding Brandon Sanderson.

Why do I write?

Why do I write so much?

Why do I write so much fantasy?

Let me tell you about the first day, that beautiful day, when I found myself inside.

It was when I opened a fantasy novel. I was an isolated kid whose emotions were doing something bizarre. Even John leaving had left me feeling…disturbed more than angry. Alone, and outside. Then I opened a book where I found emotion.

In that story about dragons, and wonder, and people trying impossible things, I found myself. I felt a variety of powerful emotions through the characters—emotions that I remembered from when I’d been younger.

I hadn’t tried reading fiction in a long while, so I was blindsided by this perfect book. The experience transformed me, quick as a boy tilting his head back, looking up, and finding a new world.

When I read or write from the eyes of other people, I legitimately feel what they do. There’s magic to any kind of story, yes—but for me, it is transformative. I live those lives. For a brief time, I remember exactly what passion, and agony, and hatred, and ecstasy feel like. My emotions mold to the story, and I cry sometimes. I legitimately cry. I haven’t done that outside of a story in three decades.

Stories bring me inside.

My second published novel is called Mistborn. It’s about a world where ash falls like snow, and I can linger, looking up through it via a character’s eyes. Near the beginning of Mistborn, the teenage protagonist finds herself standing outside a room. It is full of light and laughter and warmth. But she knows, she knows she doesn’t belong inside that room.

She’s wrong.

Nearer the end of the book, I linger on as similar scene—only now, she’s sitting with the others. Light and laughter. Warmth. Mistborn was the first novel I wrote after getting the call offering me a book deal. Finally—after slaving over a dozen unpublished manuscripts—I knew I was going to be a professional writer. With that knowledge, I wrote Mistborn, the book about a girl who learns to come inside.

While writing Mistborn, I changed. Now that I’d made it inside of publishing—now that I’d joined those authors I’d loved for so long—why would I keep writing? I needed a new goal, and I discovered it that year.

So let me tell you why I write. It isn’t about worldbuilding; that’s a mistake everyone makes about me. Assuming I write because of worldbuilding is like assuming someone makes cars because they love cup holders. It’s also not because I’m Mormon, as some profiles bizarrely conclude. My faith and cultural heritage are both important to me, but if I were any other religion, that aspect of me would rightly be a footnote—not a headline.

I don’t write for plot twists, or dragons, or clever turns of phrase—though I enjoy all of these. I write because stories bring people inside. And I sincerely, genuinely believe that is what the world needs.

Lately, I’ve seen a resurgence of something that genuinely disquiets me: an attempt by some members of our community to hold others outside. Science fiction and fantasy is forever gatekeeping what constitutes good or worthy stories. Like my old friend John, who sought cooler friends, we renounce anything accessible—part of our perpetual (and largely fruitless) plea for legitimacy with the literary establishment.

Thing is, I can’t really get mad when someone does this, because I’ve done it myself in the past. The unfortunate truth is that we all probably have at times. The moment a group finds cohesion—discovering the warmth and peace of being inside—we decide there aren’t enough seats, so we start muscling and pushing. Readers who came in because of the latest popular teen novel? Outside. Fans of the film version of a story, instead of the book version? Outside. People who don’t look the same as the supposedly conventional fan? I suspect they know this struggle far better than I do.

To use a thematic metaphor, it’s like we’re dragons on our hoard of gold, jealously keeping watch, worrying that if anyone new enters, their presence will somehow dilute our enjoyment. The irony is that there is infinite space inside, and if we open the way, we’ll find many of these newcomers are the very treasure we’re seeking.

Fantasy, out of all genres, should embrace the different, even if it doesn’t match our specific taste. This is the genre where anything can happen—and should, therefore, be the most open genre. Only fantasy offers me the full range of emotion. The wonder of exploration. The magnificent highs of epic scope and the miserable lows of cataclysmic terror. In writing it, I can learn. Monomaniacal, I hunt experiences of people different from myself, then explore them in prose until I feel—in some small part—what they do.

This is why I write. To understand. To make people feel seen. I type away, hoping some lonely reader out there, left on a curb, will pick up one of my books. And in so doing learn that even if there is no place for them elsewhere, I will make one for them between these pages.

Those who interview me seem to have trouble understanding this fundamental part of who I am: that writing for me isn’t so much about performance as it is about exploration and elevation. I love prose both literary and commercial. And I think I write great prose. I’ve slaved over my style, practicing for decades, honing it for crisp clarity. My prose is usually intended to convey ideas, theme, and character, then get out of the way—because this is how I strive to bring everyone inside.

That said, I know my goal is impossible. Occasional strolls through the outside are part of being human, and I can’t eliminate that. And even I have to admit that there are lessons to be learned on those lonely paths. For example, contrast is the only way to appraise growth. Emotional alien I may be, but that very alienation has motivated me to understand. I value the connections I’ve made so much more for that struggle.

Moreover, I find that occasionally looking in through a window at everyone else gives a person a more complete perspective. Inside, things can get messy, and a streak of color finds it hard to comprehend the painting. I’m a better writer because of my time spent looking in. I don’t know that I could have written Mistborn if I hadn’t been left on that curb.

This isn’t to discount the pain of those who have been forced outside. Nor is it an advocacy for extended periods spent in the cold. I also don’t know if I could have written Mistborn if the wonderful people of the science fiction and fantasy community (including many of the friends I now work with) hadn’t latched on to me in college and—at times—forcibly pulled me inside to be with them. Beyond that, as I’ve grown older, I’ve found people like Emily, who love me in spite of (and partially because of) my quirks. Blessedly, because of this, my times outside have been increasingly brief.

My goal here is merely to point out (as I’ve had occasion to remember recently) that beautiful moments do accompany the isolation. You can only watch the snow fall when you’re outside. Only then can you look up and experience that mystifying world, where fragments of the sky drift past and lift you toward the heavens.

I’m forty-seven now, enjoying desert snowfalls in early April. The man I am is separated by distance and time from that boy who stood on the curb, and I’ve forgotten most of the steps that led between the two. I still don’t feel strong emotions outside of stories—but I did tell an interviewer lately that I sometimes cry when writing scenes in my books. They just aren’t the scenes that I thought he’d expect.

I don’t necessarily cry when characters die, or when they marry, or even when they find victory. I cry when it works. When it all comes together, and in a beautiful shimmering burst of humanity, I feel what it is to be that character. At those times, I remember what I learned twenty years ago writing Mistborn. That there’s a reason I do this. And even if I’ve lost more memories than I retain, each of them had a point, because they collectively brought me here.

So when you find yourself in the cold, know that sometimes, there’s a purpose to it. Trust me; I’ve been there. I might be there right now. Feeling the cold on my cheeks—but these days, no longer in my bones. Knowing that this will pass, and that it might be for my good. Most of all, looking up so I can appreciate it. The still. Solemn. Perspective.

Of one who stands outside.

#brandon sanderson #cosmere #cfsbf #root #branderson #wob #kind of #long post

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