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Garden of Secrets - Epilogue

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback and support throughout the story my darlings! I hope you enjoy the epilogue as well, ILYSM! ❤️

Warnings: Regency era society and social rules, some gender specific language and terms, mentions of sex.

Thank you to @theskytraveler for helping me with the story and the chapter!

Series Masterlist

3 YEARS LATER

“And this flower right here is called a mock orange, any idea why?”

The cheerful babbling was the only answer you got and you felt yourself smiling wide, turning to look at her better. Camellia was the cutest baby you’d ever seen and you were pretty sure it wasn’t just because she was the most perfect combination of you and Benedict. The only person in your life that remembered you as a baby was Josie, and she swore up and down that she looked more like you than Benedict but you weren’t so sure.

“Very good!” you said. “Because it looks like an orange flower!”

Camellia clapped her hands excitedly, as if congratulating herself for guessing right, kicking her legs back and forth in her high chair, accidentally dropping one of the many pencils on the table in front of her but she didn’t even notice.

“And what about this one?”

“Fwo?”

“Flower, yes,” you said, nodding fervently and she gave you a huge grin. You went to pick her up from the chair and approached the table in the middle of the huge greenhouse.

 “This is your flower my sweet, see? Middlemist Red Camellia.”

She gasped when she heard her name. “Me!”

“Mm hm, the most beautiful and precious flower in the entire world!” you said, tickling her stomach while kissing her cheeks, making her happy giggles echo in the greenhouse. You fixed her hair, still smiling bright and took a look at the paper she was drawing on before, full of different colored squiggly lines.

“Perhaps your papa is right, you are to be a big artist,” you said as you walked to the glass door. “A painter like him hm?”

“Papa!”

“And your aunt Lottie says you will be a writer and your uncle Teddy says you’ll be a sculptor…” you said as you stepped out of the greenhouse into the huge garden, the sunlight falling upon you. You grabbed the little hat by the door and placed it upon Camellia’s head while she held onto you, playing with your necklace.

“So many ideas!” you told her as you passed by the winter garden, enjoying the chirping of the birds. A couple of butterflies flew by you, no doubt because you were very close to the butterfly garden and Camellia held her breath, pointing at the blue butterfly.

“Mama!”

“I can see that my love,” you said, pressing a kiss on her small chubby hand, and walked past the orangery. “They’re very beautiful, are they not?”

She nodded fervently, making grabby hand motions as if trying to call the butterflies to her.

“Anyway, as I was saying,” you said, still walking through the main garden. “They all think like that but do you want to know what I think?”

She nodded her head again, still listening to you very intently.

“I think you might just become the biggest botanist in the world,” you whispered. “I mean it only makes sense, no? You already know so many flowers!”

Camellia pointed at the pear tree and turned to you. “Mine? Mine?”

“Let’s get you one then,” you said with a small laugh, reaching up to grab and pick the pear off the branch. You dusted it off, then gave it to Camellia who made a happy cooing sound, trying to dig into it. You raised your head to look up at the house, a warmth spreading through you as your gaze fell upon the window of Benedict’s studio, then you turned to Camellia.

“Let’s go see papa, hm?” you asked her, then made your way to the house to enter the foyer. You hummed a song and climbed up the stairs, then put Camellia down when you entered the hallway leading to Benedict’s studio.

“Go ahead.”

“Papa?” Camellia called out, running as fast as her tiny legs allowed her, reminding you of a duck. She was still holding the pear tight in her fist, and you walked right behind her to make sure you would be able to catch her if she fell. “Papa!”

You let out a laugh as you heard Benedict’s footsteps and he stepped out of the studio, his jaw dropping as he saw her and he immediately leaned down to catch her before she could smash herself against his legs.

“Oh here’s my sweet!” he said as he hoisted her up into his arms, smothering her in kisses, making her giggle happily before he turned to you, that fond look crossing his eyes, a soft smile curling his lips.

“Hello my love.”

You smiled, and stood on your tiptoes to kiss him. “Hello to you too,” you said, letting out a small laugh as he stole another kiss from you. “I figured you needed a break or so.”

“And you were right,” he said, winking at you before turning to Camellia. “How is she always right, do you know?”

Camellia offered him the pear she was holding and Benedict gasped.

“For me?”

“More like it was for her but she’s willing to share,” you said and Benedict grinned.

“Come on,” he nodded in the direction of the studio and walked inside with Camellia in his arms, and you followed them.

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing,” you sang in a teasing manner, pulling the hat off Camellia’s head and Benedict shot you a mischievous look.

“Mm, what am I doing?”

“You think you can turn her into an artist if she spends enough time here.”

“I can’t help if she’s naturally talented,” Benedict defended himself. “I mean have you seen her work?”

“The…the squiggly lines?”

“The squiggly lines!” Benedict nodded, rocking Camellia. “She’s a genius artist even as a one-year-old.”

“I still support my botanist theory.”

“Maybe she’ll be both?”

“As you can see my sweet, no high expectations whatsoever,” you told Camellia who was listening to both of you as if she could understand everything you were saying.

“You can be anything you want to be,” Benedict told her as she rested her head on his shoulder, yawning. “Including an artist. Just saying.”

You walked closer to the canvas to see that the background was almost done, and tilted your head.

“What’s this going to be?”

Benedict shot you a grin and pressed his lips on top of Camellia’s hair. You checked the clock on the wall, then rang the bell.

“That one is going to be her,” Benedict said, softly rocking her and you smiled.

“Aw,” you said gently, and walked to caress her soft cheek with your finger. “Did you hear that my sweet? Your own portrait?”

Camellia sucked on her thumb, her eyes closing slowly.

“Is she sleeping?” Benedict whispered and you nodded.

“She is,” you murmured, rubbing her back and turned your head when someone knocked on the door.

“Ma’am,” Paula said. “Mr. Bridgerton. Would you like me to take her for her nap?”

“That would be good Paula, thank you.”

She smiled and took Camellia from Benedict, careful not to wake her.

“I’ll be right there,” you told her and pressed a kiss on Camellia’s head before Paula walked out of the room with her. You turned to Benedict and he entwined his fingers with yours, pulling you into his arms.

“Hey,” you said as he buried his nose into your hair. “Is everything alright?”

“Mm hm, now that you’re here.”

You smiled softly and squeezed his arm. “Are you still tense about the gala?”

He heaved a sigh and you pulled back a little to look up at him.

“Ben, that painting got auctioned and sold in two minutes because everyone was outbidding each other,” you reminded him. “People are talking about you the same way you used to talk about Gordon, everyone agrees that you’re a genius artist, the whole ton—”

“Yeah but it’s different,” he mumbled. “Tonight, it’s only friends and family.”

“Shouldn’t that be comforting?”

“Technically yes but…” he trailed off and shook his head slightly. “Never mind.”

You cupped his cheek, raising your brows. “Tell me.”

“It’s easier when it’s just strangers,” he said with a small chuckle. “Museum owners and Academy directors and such. It’s different when it’s family and friends, and I’d hate it if they thought all those other people exaggerated—”

“Everyone in the Academy and countless artists and museum owners who were on the verge of a fight to get your painting, they all exaggerated?” you asked with a small smile. “All of those people at the same time?”

Benedict thought for a moment. “When you say it like that…”

You let out a laugh and stood on your tiptoes to brush your lips against his, and he heaved a sigh when you pulled back, resting his forehead against yours, his fingers caressing the sensitive skin of your neck.

“Tonight is going to be amazing,” you assured him. “I promise you.”

He shot you a mischievous grin, then leaned down hoisted you up into his arms, making you squeal.

“Benedict!”

“There’s no harm in starting the amazing night a bit early,” he said as he carried you to the sofa and you let out a laugh.

“Scandalous behavior!” you joked and he winked at you, then leaned in to kiss you.

                                                *

Of course the night of the gala went perfectly, as you knew it would. Both your family and Benedict’s had been so excited and were very proud of him, and you could see it melted away the last insecurity that had been gnawing at him before tonight.

His speech that he dedicated the painting -and his inspiration- to you was enough to bring tears into your eyes but you managed to hide it by burying your face into his arm, earning an “aww” from the crowd. After the speech, people scattered along in the gallery to talk to each other, and if you said so yourself, everyone seemed to be having fun. Benedict was talking to Gordon, Henry, Margery and Lucy by the corner, Anthony and Lottie looked like they were in their own world while Colin kept whispering things to Penelope’s ear, making her giggle. Eloise seemed to be in a deep conversation with Simon while Daphne watched them with a small smile, and you smiled at Lady Bridgerton and Lady Danbury as Teddy wheezed past you.

“Teddy don’t run!” you called out and he stopped for a moment.

“But I’m being very careful!” he assured you and returned to chasing Hyacinth and Gregory. Your aunt held up her hands, gesturing surrender as she gave him a fond look and your uncle chuckled.

“If he changes his mind about being a sculptor…”

“He can become a professional runner,” you joked and turned to Josie and Bess.

“So yes, we’re going to Paris before the season,” you told them. “Around like a month before, if I’m not mistaken.”

“Andrew will give you a list of things to bring from there, just so you know,” Bess said said and you let out a laugh.

“I’m alright with that. Wait, where is he anyway?”

Josie cleared her throat. “I think he and Felix are in the orangery—”

“The moon garden, my love,” Bess corrected her and you raised your brows, stifling a laugh.

“Of course they are,” you muttered and heard someone calling your name. You turned your head to see who it was, then made your way to Lottie and Anthony.

“Hello you two.”

“Y/N,” she said with a huge smile, still holding Anthony’s hand. “We already said goodnight to Benedict, we didn’t want to leave before saying goodnight to you.”

You tilted your head. “You’re leaving already?” you asked. “Is everything alright? Is Edmund—”

“Oh Edmund is fine!” she assured you quickly and Anthony nodded.

“He’s probably asleep already.”

“It’s just—I tire very easily nowadays,” Lottie said, making you pull your brows together. Anthony and Lottie exchanged smiles and Lottie bounced on the balls of her feet in an excited manner, making your frown deepen for a moment before the thought dawned on you and your jaw dropped.

“Are you serious?!” you whispered and Lottie giggled, nodding fervently.

“You’re the first to know,” she whispered and you let out a laugh, then pulled her into a hug.

“Congratulations!”

“Thank you!”

“To both of you obviously—” you said with a laugh, then hugged Anthony as well, making him chuckle as he hugged you back.

“We haven’t told Benedict yet,” he told you as you pulled back. “You know with the gala and everything.”

“Oh he will be very happy for you!” you said and Lottie bit on her lip.

“I wish to be the one to tell him if that’s alright.”

“Absolutely!” you said, waving your hands. “Go on then, go home and rest. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“You’d better,” Lottie joked and squeezed your hand, then they both walked out of the gallery. You looked around, then took a step towards Eloise but someone touched the small of your back, making you look up.

“Well if it isn’t the genius artist,” you teased Benedict and he shot you a happy grin.

“Come with me?”

“As long as we’re not going to the moon garden because if I walk in on them again…” you muttered and he tilted his head.

“Hm?”

“Nothing,” you said and let him pull you out of the gallery. You both passed through the foyer and he led you outside, still holding your hand.

“Ben, where are we going?” you asked with a laugh and he stopped by the main garden, moonlight falling upon you both, showering the gardens in silver. Even though it was the thousandth time you were seeing this gorgeous view, it still managed to take your breath away.

Speaking of things that managed to take your breath away…

You looked up at Benedict, his handsome face under the moonlight, your heart skipping a beat before you giggled.

“Are we sneaking out of your own gala then?”

Benedict shot you a mischievous smile, then shook his head.

“No I merely…I wanted a moment with you,” he said. “Just you.”

You bit down on your lip as he pulled you closer, his fingers stroking over your hair. Your eyes fluttered close when he brushed his lips against yours and you smiled into the kiss, grazing your nails over the nape of his neck, making him heave a sigh.

“Congratulations Mr. Bridgerton,” you whispered. “Your gala seems to be a success.”

He smiled softly, pressing his lips on your temple. “Seems to be, Mrs. Bridgerton.”

You hummed. “Is it too early to say I told you so?”

He chuckled. “I don’t think so.”

“Well then, I told you so,” you said, sticking your nose up in the air. “And you should listen to me all the time because to be honest, so far I’ve—”

“I love you,” he said, and your eyes snapped up to his, a smile warming your face. You let out a giggle and pulled him down so that you could kiss him.

“I love you too,” you whispered and entwined your fingers with his, then took a step towards the house.

“Come on,” you said. “It is your gala my love. Let’s go and enjoy it.”

The End.

i’m obsessed with the thought of vil falling for someone who’s ugly. especially if it’s a forced proximity trope. triple points if it’s enemies to lovers!

there’s just something about a guy obsessed with beauty is shown that beauty doesn’t equal to value that melts me

omg i actually was obsessed with this concept a few months ago and i wrote a very short unfinished drabble (set in medieval au) about knight!vil falling for ‘ugly’ knight!reader but i didn’t think anyone would want to read about an ‘ugly’ reader 😭😭

i definitely agree tho the concept is so perfect for vil imo. like the idea of this guy who’s so fixated and obsessed with beauty (especially one who’s potentially been told that much of his worth lies in his looks) who ends up falling for someone very unconventional completely unintentionally. like theres’s a whole internal struggle in him that he doesn’t want to fall in love with this person. they’re an enemy, and unattractive at that.

but then he just can’t help but falling in love with their character; when they give hope to him and represent a goodness that he’d lost. someone who is called ugly and unwanted everyday by the world and manages to keep their head held high even if tears are pouring down their cheeks.

i think that’s a quality he’d admire a lot; kindness even when the world has been unkind. he wants to be good like that too. in a way, you’re like a mirror of the kind of goodness he wants to see in himself. you’re made fun of and put down at every turn and yet you do not let that stop you from being nice. whenever someone mocks vil, he can’t let it go, he can’t let himself be kind because it hurts and that’s the only protection he’s found.

also the idea of consciously thinking someone is unattractive but unconsciously starting to notice their eyes and lips and desire settling in- help-

unfinished drabble under the cut 👉👈 (also its fem reader bc i think medieval gender roles and the idea of ‘ugly’ woman x hot man couple is kind of important to the theme lol - aka this is just jaime x brienne rewritten but anyway-)

Vil truly believed you were ugly when he first met you. He almost never truly meant the term, but in this case, it was appropriate. Most everyone you encountered agreed. He could tell by how you’d stayed stone-faced at his cruel taunts, apparently used to it. Your features were just a bit too extreme, too out of place, too different. He’d used your appearance against you, scratching at every insecurity you’d thought of and probably some you hadn’t. Still, you hadn’t gotten angry as he’d hoped. You didn’t seek to harm him, even when he knew he’d struck a sore spot.

He persevered, but you’d never given in, despite his hopes that you would become blinded enough by anger and pain to give him a chance to escape. He admired you, in a way. It seemed as though life had beaten you down long before he’d come along, but a hardened rock had emerged from the erosion.

Sometimes his words would cut too deep for you to ignore. You never did anything rash, to his dismay, but he could tell they affected you. He didn’t feel bad; why should he? He was your hostage, and you his captor. Even if you were performing your duty, you were getting in the way of his own responsibilities, his life.

Vil was surprised to learn that you were a high-born like himself. Well, not exactly born to a family of his status and wealth, but a high-born nonetheless. He’d realized that he should’ve been addressing you with your Lady title, but you’d fought at soon as he’d tried.

No matter my origin, you know that no man sees me as a lady, Sir Vil.

-

They came, and they cut off his hair. One of them taunted him for being a beautiful husk. So they’d cut a deep gash across his face. Now your outside matches your inside, ‘Sir’, they’d mocked.

Vil had wished they’d cut off his head instead.

Later, after you’d managed to convince them to let you treat his wounds, he’d bemoaned to you.

Now we’re both grotesque, he’d said, a pair of freaks.

You’re not ugly, you just have a scar, you’d replied. You turned away from your task to face him. You’ll never know what it means to be ugly.

Even with his bitter remarks, you treated his wounds all the same. When he was too afraid to face himself in the reflection of the lake, you’d been the one to peel away his bandages and force him to look.

See, you’d said, not a monster, just a man.

He’d wondered if you were an angel at that moment, a saint. Or maybe you were a witch destined to lead him astray. He hadn’t really cared either way.

a wicked tongue

part two

part one here

masterlist

Two frustrating nights in a row leave you restless. Stephen finds himself concerned - and poses a kind offer. He seems all too eager to pay you a friendly favor.

Pairing: Stephen Strange x Reader (GN)

Warnings: 18+ (Minors DNI), more questionable sexual proposals, friends with benefits (kind of), caught masturbating, oral sex (reader receiving), face sitting

A/N: one good turn deserves another ;) and I promised you a sequel, so there it is! thanks for all the love you left on a helping hand. I tried to keep this as gender neutral as possible, but it was very hard to not get specific with this kind of sexual interaction. I suppose you could say it's a little more afab-coded, but I still hope you'll enjoy!

The world was kind of funny.

Two days ago you had decided to help your sister's friend get off after sort of stumbling upon him in a very private moment, failing to pleasure himself, and finding yourself to just be the right person for the task.

Now, after two frustrating nights in a row of trying, you were suddenly the one incapable of getting all the way to the edge on your own. You didn't know what the matter was, why it suddenly wouldn't just...work.

Perhaps it was the fact that you were staying at someone else's place that made you unable to orgasm in peace. Not even the shower would do, though the perfect place for masturbation as the door locked and the spray would conceal any noises you did not want Stephen to hear.

But your body simply wasn't able to relax, even though that had never been one of your concerns before.

Maybe you were just tired of only ever feeling your fingers – you had to admit it had been a long while since having someone else and you rarely used the opportunity of involving a sex toy.

It wasn't that you weren't horny enough, because heaven's sake you absolutely were. That's why it was so damn frustrating. The urge to get there was strong and arousal sparked almost violently, especially when you thought about Stephen. You needed release and just couldn't find it.

Maybe it was a Stephen problem.

The man had been riddling your thoughts ever since your little encounter in his bedroom – and you found yourself replaying how beautiful he had sounded, remembering the expressions on his face flicking from frustration to pleasure to bliss and relief, how incredibly hot it had been to have him (quite literally) in your hand and bring him to a mindblowing orgasm. But even that fantasy wasn't enough to do it for you and you frankly felt bad for using Stephen as means to get off.

Shame on you. Of course, you still thought about him. Whenever you thought you got there though, you failed to cum anyways.

It left you restless and frustrated, even though it had only been a few days without release, and that's exactly why you ended up sitting at the kitchen aisle in the middle of the night, deciding to start working on the next project because you imagined it at least might distract you enough from your own dissatisfaction.

So you had thought.

But once you had opened the program, you immediately realized that neither inspiration nor motivation would grace you tonight, so you kept typing and tapping away randomly, hoping some creative spark would finally strike and keep your mind busy.

Minutes and then an hour and then two hours went by. Nothing.

About 1am, you were surprised to find Stephen joining you in the kitchen, staggering in from the dark corridor – he acknowledged you with a curt nod, though his gaze seemed to linger on you a while longer, before he quietly walked towards the kitchen counter, apparently meaning to get himself a drink, just some water.

Because you greeted every distraction you could get at the moment, you decided to watch him bustle around instead of trying to focus on work. And what a perfect distraction he was, looking entirely adorable, his hair a little mussed and rumpled with sleep, careful with every single one of his steps, clumsily trying to open the cap of the water bottle, grumbling - probably about the fact his hands were absolutely pissing him off.

He had not paid your presence any more mind up until that point, but eventually gave up on the bottle cap, walked towards you and handed you the bottle with a pleading (albeit very tired) look. Stephen didn't speak his request out loud, but he didn't really need to – usually you liked having him ask and say 'Please' because it annoyed him to go the extra mile of niceties, though once in a while you had mercy.

You opened it for him in the blink of an eye and carefully returned it to his hands.

“Thanks”, he muttered. For a moment you thought, he might just have a sip and leave again. But then you noticed that he drank while staying real close by your seat and tried to catch a glimpse of what you were working on – it wasn't much, just a few scribbles on the screen, but still seemed to make him curious.

"That looks... not like something I'd expect from an actual graphic designer", he worded politely, though his cockiness seeped through, regardless of his exhausted state, “Let me guess. Couldn't get any sleep?”

"Nope, my body decided to betray me and I couldn't fall asleep. Now I'm just... here, doing work, because I might as well be productive", you sighed, obviously not planning to tell him about your frustration with another kind of handiwork, “But you can see how well that's going. It looks pathetic.”

"Is the couch getting too uncomfortable perhaps?", Stephen wondered. You almost snorted. It was definitely not the couch bothering you. “And by the way that looks, I doubt you'll get any further with your creativity tonight.”

"Yeah well, just a couple more days of suffering and Christine will be back and then I can finally go home to my own bed, while you can get on her nerves instead", you therefore replied, paying him a tired smile in response, trying to match his teasing nature, “Or she on yours. Probably both.”

"Already tired of playing caretaker?", Stephen joked, placed one of his bandaged hands on your shoulder and squeezed it gently, “And here I thought you liked me.”

"Don't blame me for thinking you are a horrible patient", you rolled your eyes at him, "Are you gonna bother me much longer or may I go back to work?"

"Actually, let me be the reasonable one for once. I have an idea", Stephen contemplated and by the way his tone suddenly shifted, you were almost expecting it to be a very suggestive one.

"How about you stop working and come join me in bed? You need some rest too, considering you'll have to deal with me for a few more days. There's space enough for the two of us, it's much more comfortable than the couch and maybe the presence of another human being will allow you and me both to finally get some sleep. I call that a win-win.”

You tried real hard to keep a neutral look on your face, not giving away that you were somewhat entertained by the suggestion, but also slightly confused.

Had you expected this coming from Stephen? No, certainly not. You didn't mind, but were still conflicted, because you couldn't tell whether it was actually meant to be so suggestive or just an innocent offer. Maybe he was really just trying to accommodate you in order for you to have a good rest, since he was the one getting on your nerves so very often.

Though it did sound like he wanted you near too, as if it would also help him to get some better sleep as well.

Stephen looked worried when you didn't answer immediately, like he feared he had made you uncomfortable. In truth he had simply rendered you speechless.

You caught yourself somewhere amidst the awkward silence between you. Instead of giving him an answer he was most certainly dreading, you let your actions speak, closing all of your programs and shutting off your laptop.

It was a silent agreement, but he sure understood.

It wouldn't do any harm, would it? Sleeping next to Stephen might be nice, just to have the comfort and warmth of another person might be enough to actually lull you to sleep, and it wasn't like this was crossing any more boundaries along the lines of friendship, considering you had jerked him off two days ago without a second thought.

Sharing a bed was nothing worth mentioning in contrast.

Your only concern was your current sexual frustration, something that might be intensified by the presence of a very attractive man and the proximity you'd get to enjoy while sleeping in the same bed – you would definitely not try to masturbate next to Stephen and if you were lucky enough, then maybe sleeping next to him would end up being just as relaxing as a possible orgasm.

Well, apparently you were going to find out.

As soon as you got settled into bed next to Stephen, sheets and pillows smelling delightfully fresh, of course a little like him, you let yourself be embraced by the warmth of the blanket immediately, sinking into the soft mattress. Heavenly. Definitely better than the couch, though the choice of furniture had certainly not been the underlying issue anyways.

Laying in a comfortable bed, suddenly feeling the dead tired weight of your limbs and your eyes dropping as well, you stopped worrying altogether.

There was not even a whim of discomfort in this moment, even though you hadn't shared a bed with anyone for months. Especially sharing it with Stephen, you had expected to find it perhaps odd, but now that you lay there – it was just fine. The exhaustion did its part.

You bid good night to one another and it took you mere minutes after closing your eyes until you were drifting off...

•

You could have sworn you had fallen asleep laying on your back, with an appropriate amount of distance between two people considered friends, but in your process of awakening you quickly noticed something was a little off.

Apparently you had rolled over onto your side at some point during the night, which wasn't that seldom. It was just a lot more comfortable than sleeping on your back. But that wasn't all.

You also undeniably found yourself in a warm embrace that wasn't just a blanket on top of you but an arm draped over your form and a warm body pressing up to your backside.

Oh lord.

Getting spooned in the morning had sure not been on your list for the day (or at all, as of lately), but you didn't bother to complain or even make the slightest attempt of moving away, no matter how much the initial realization startled you. Having Stephen near was kinda nice, more than you could have imagined.

It didn't feel wrong.

As this was probably the only cuddle you were going to get for a long while, you might as well enjoy it. It made you wonder though. He had likely just embraced you by accident, subconciously snuggling up to the one thing in his bed, but you wondered what his reaction might be like if he woke and noticed what was going on.

Would he be startled or entirely unfazed? Had it perhaps not been a subconcious decision at all? What if he had done this on purpose? What if he had wanted to hold you, feel another body close to his? Maybe that had been the reason for his invitation in the first place. But right now you couldn't find yourself to care too much about any ulterior motives and just let it happen.

Focusing on the sensations around and within you, you came to a few more realizations.

Stephen was a furnace, his presence alone incredibly warm. There was something comforting about his embrace, it was a protective but gentle hold, and you could probably get used to being cuddled in the morning by someone like him.

However, and worst of all – it was enough to turn you on instantly, to have his warm body pressed up to yours, the way he had claimed you all for himself, how right it felt.

You wanted to damn yourself for agreeing to his offer in the first place as it brought you into such a precarious position right now, but then again... you wouldn't want to risk missing the experience, would you? Besides that, it would never happen another time and you should enjoy it while it lasted – though if you both consented, perhaps it might not be the last time for you after all.

You greeted that idea. But this certainly crossed a boundary, a different one than having jerked him off. Allowing Stephen a sexual favor, for this one time, had been a friendly deed. You had wanted to make him feel better, because you cared for him, and you had accomplished just that.

But now, with his arm around you and you wishing to be able to experience this more often, you became uncomfortably aware that maybe being just friends would not be enough for you.

Because you wanted more. So much more. Especially right now.

It didn't help that Stephen was shifting behind you, drawing his arm around you tighter, pressing up to your back, his warm breath tickling your nape, obviously still fast asleep...

Your heart hammered in your chest, a familiar lust rushing to your loins, and you squirmed in interest, cautious to not press back into him in order to not accidentally wake him up. Because if you did and he became aware of what was going on, he would likely pull back and then this perfect moment would be over.

Or maybe not. But could you risk that?

If you surrendered to your own desire here, you might never be able to look Stephen in the eye ever again. Jerking him off had been a well-meant favor. Masturbating next to him would entirely be for your own gain and just wrong. But the temptation of doing something forbidden, the thought of maybe being discovered by Stephen... undeniably did something to you.

It wasn't like he had to know. For as long as he wouldn't wake, you'd be safe. It's not like you would use him for your own pleasure – no, he was just there and his presence was more than enough to feed your arousal. The rest, you could do yourself.

A little drowsy from sleep, you slid your hand down the pajama pants, over your underwear and eventually finding your evident excitement, letting fingers rub over yourself through the material. Seemed like this part of you was responding quite eagerly too.

God, with only noticing how touch-starved Stephen had been, you apparently had forgotten how starved for attention and desperate you were.

Alas, if you started touching yourself now, it would be twice as awkward for the man behind you to wake up and find you like that, but being so aroused, being so embraced too, you allowed to just let this take its toll.

Slightly ashamed, your cheeks burning with heat, breathing faster, you slipped your fingers under the remaining layer of clothing, brushing over your naked arousal, allowing yourself just a tiny bit of pleasure.

Going on like this, maybe for a handful of minutes, your fingers busy working between your thighs, trailing the spots that made you feel just right, trying hard to not shift or push back against Stephen, to not make too much noise, to not moan at how utterly excited you were and how your own touch might just be enough to finally get you to the edge, you nearly found yourself forgetting about being in a presence of another person.

Unsurprisingly so, it scared the shit out of you when Stephen suddenly stirred and moved, gently placing his bandaged hand on your forearm, a very definite sign that he was awake.

Oh no.

You stopped the movements immediately and by god, another hole in the ground opening up and swallowing you whole would have been great now. Your face must have literally been flaring red in your current state of embarrassment, burning with heat, and your entire body tensed. Rather awkwardly, you tried to remain as still as you could, pretending that you had not just touched yourself.

But he wasn't a fool, obviously. You sure were, hoping this would go unnoticed. What in heaven's name had you been thinking? And what was going to happen now?

Was he urging you to stop, but wouldn't mention it to you, letting the weight of silence consume the moment and ruin your arousal? Maybe he'd just let the moment pass and you could continue on to be friendly with each other, without ever demanding to talk about this? You'd greet that.

But could there be any chance he might just be okay with this? What if he'd be disgusted, resentful or would ridicule and tease you about this forever on?

You wished for the whole world to come crashing down just about now and spare you the embarrassment...

But then he spoke up, with the low rumble of his voice, warm breath brushing against the back of your neck, something that didn't help your arousal at all. "You know, you could have just told me that you're also desperate and need some relief. I wouldn't have judged."

"M'sorry", you sighed, pulling your hand out of your pants in utmost shame, Stephen's closeness and his careful touch on your arm burning into your skin, "I know I shouldn't have... but... I've just been struggling with getting off... and... I guess being held by you... just kinda did it for me. Not to say that you turn me on, I just... god, this is ridiculous."

"Oh come on, is it really so ridiculous?”, Stephen hummed, sounding very amused about this situation as a whole, "You jerked me off, remind you not that long ago, and this... is actually kind of hot. Having an adorable little minx like you in my bed trying to get off, too afraid to admit that they're turned on, too shy to ask for assistance. Sounds like a dream to me."

"More like a nightmare, being caught in the act", you turned your head to smush it further into the pillow. Why were you even having such a casual conversation right now? You, in this odd state between complete embarrassment and relentless arousal, and Stephen, having woken up to this, seemingly unfazed.

You should have just rolled out of bed and left the situation, hoping that Stephen would never mention it again and spare you any further shame.

Perhaps it was only fair – you had accidentally witnessed Stephen trying to masturbate and now he had discovered you. You were in an odd way even. Not that it made this any better.

"Do you want any help with that? I owe you something, don't I?", he asked, instead of letting it rest though, his voice still gravelly and low from sleep, his hand brushing over your arm in a comforting motion. Speaking of being suggestive...

"Fuck all the way off. You don't owe me anything", you replied, of course. You didn't want Stephen to feel like he had to offer you anything in return for the favor you had so willingly given, even though you obviously didn't actually mind the idea of it. Damn it.

He wasn't the type of person to be entirely selfless, so with offering something like this... maybe he wasn't opposed to the idea of being in more sexual situations with you and you didn't really know what to think about this.

Though you might not want to go as far as having sex with the man already (if ever) and while his hands might be a bit of an issue, you had no doubts it would be worth it, whatever he had in mind.

God, if Christine ever found out about this... she'd probably make fun of both of you, thinking you were absolutely ridiculous - which you no doubt were, dancing around each other and clutching onto the boundaries of a normal friendship, when you could perhaps be so much more if you were just bold and brave enough.

"Would it make this situation better if I wanted to help you?", Stephen admitted to you, sounding unsure, "I wasn't lying when I said I think it's hot."

"And we won't talk to anyone about this?", you asked.

"Not a word. Promise", Stephen confirmed, pressing up to your body from behind, his breath still ghosting over your neck, sending a whole different kind of shiver through you when his lips softly brushed your nape, "I'm just afraid my fingers currently won't be good enough to please you. But I have an idea."

"And if I may ask, what kind of idea might that be?" Curiosity killed the cat after all. You were still so horny you might have accepted any offer of pleasure, even though unsure whether it was wise, but you were looking forward to pick a piece of his mind, to find out what filthy thoughts he might harvest. He seemed so willing to do this, for whatever reason – and you yourself began wondering if all of this was just a dream, made up by your subconscious desires.

"You'll figure it out. Turn over", Stephen spoke and eased his embrace – and so you did, rolling onto your other side, facing him, who was watching you with a mischievous glint in his eyes and a rather soft sleepy smile. You couldn't possibly tell what was crossing his thoughts and looked at each other for a quiet moment, since you didn't know what to expect or how to act next.

“If we're going to do this my way, you need to strip. At least get out of your pants”, was the subtle order that followed up – and so you did, even though followed by a little awkwardness, deciding to shuffle out of your pajama pants and underwear, still hidden from his gaze by the blanket resting over you. It didn't save you from feeling slightly self-conscious, a thousand thoughts running through your head.

What was he planning? What was he going to suggest next? Why was he doing this for you? Would you like it? And what would that mean for your friendship?

"Don't be shy. Come get on top of me", Stephen announced the third step and leisurely turned onto his back, appearing oddly expectant. You faltered, eyes widening at his suggestion. He wasn't expecting you to... he wasn't asking for sexual intercourse, was he?

Noticing your second guessing, his gaze softened and he smiled at you, assuredly. “You can trust me. If you don't like it, we can stop any time. But I'm thinking you might just enjoy it.”

“I just...”, you began. Your curiosity was catching up on you. You would have liked to find out.

“Come on up. I'll be nice”, Stephen's smile turned into that self-satisfied grin you knew him for and whatever it was that had you convinced in the end, you decided to surrender yourself. He had given into you mere days ago and so easily, putting so much trust in you, convinced you were meaning well – and in return, you'd allow him the same trust.

So you did as he suggested, slowly pushing back the blankets to awkwardly scramble onto Stephen's lap, finding your usual confidence whisked away, oddly exposed. The man's gaze was raking over your body and for a moment you quietly watched him in the soft morning light, his smug face, pupils dilating with desire as he consumed the sight of you.

What now, you asked yourself, bracing your palms against his stomach, feeling his warmth, the subtle movement of his breathing, perched on firm thighs. Was he waiting for you to make the next move? You had no doubt that if you grinded down on him, it would feel good. Perhaps you'd even get him to harden as well, adding to his pleasure as much as to your own.

But something told you it wasn't quite what he had in mind – he was meaning to give you a favor.

"Good. Place your hands on the headboard instead", he instructed you next, waiting for you to do just that, "And now you come further up here."

You swallowed hard as you stared back down at him and the clear indication he had just made. "Do you mean I should...? Like... on your... face?"

A sharp and quick "Yes" was the only respond you got. So that's what was he had planned.

Stephen was apparently very pleased with his idea and before you had a chance to second-guess, he snuck his arms around your waist, pulling you forward instantly, urging you to shuffle up until your knees were resting on the pillow, close to his head, and you were literally hovering over him, holding yourself up on the headboard.

You suddenly didn't dare to look at him and closed your eyes instead, contemplating just how unreal this situation was. Kneeling over him, you could feel Stephen's warm breath on your most private parts, his head between your thighs, and honestly, even that alone seemed too crazy to be true.

But this was really happening, wasn't it?

Only a broken moan escaped you when you suddenly felt Stephen's mouth on you, hot and welcoming, gently teasing, carefully sucking on your sensitive swollen sex, tongue lazily testing and probing all of you, to the point all your insecurities and doubts were whisked away.

"Fucking... fuck", you shuddered, clinging a little tighter onto the headboard immediately, careful not to crush the man under your own weight, but god... his mouth felt so good on you and Stephen was unashamed to taste every bit, exploring you, sometimes with the flat of his tongue, sometimes only giving you little flicks, paying more attention to those spots he had quickly figured how much you liked and humming in delight whenever he drew a reaction out of you.

You had known Stephen had a wicked tongue, judging by his snarky comments most of the time, but only now were you truly figuring out how skilled it was as well. He was downright devouring you, slow strokes of his flat tongue up and down, his mouth tasting you seemingly everywhere, sucking and licking and kissing, his tongue easing its way along every dip and curve, not leaving a single part of your arousal unattended.

Apparently he was trying to drive you mad too – just the right level of intensity, switching things up to keep you on edge, pausing, so you could only feel his breath ghosting over you, and you had to admit that you kinda deserved this torturous sweetness after having being cruel to Stephen himself last time. But god, how thorough and driven he was, all this to make you feel good.

At this point, it seemed a lot like the man wasn't too concerned with being smothered by you at all, hungrily pulling you further towards his own face, tasting you, lapping on you like a starving man, his heavy breath and scruffy beard tickling you. Nothing seemed to dampen his enthusiasm.

You couldn't remembered ever having someone as eager as him between your legs before and sank your head against the wall, unable to stop moaning, giving yourself over to the purest pleasure sparking within, Stephen's sinful mouth taking care of you like no one else ever had.

A whine left your lips just as Stephen's mouth parted from you, continuing to spread soft kisses and playful little bites on you inner thighs – as much as he could reach of them anyways – and you were so close to just grab him by the hair and lead him back to your aching arousal, if it meant he would continue to lick you.

It was just as intense when he returned to taste you with his tongue again.

Stephen didn't hold you back from grinding against his face either and you rolled your hips in time for the greedy laps of his tongue, chasing your orgasm just like this.

And when you came, gods, did you come hard.

It was seriously unreal, your entire body was suddenly trembling hard, you could feel the heavy jitters of your thighs taking over all of your body, moaning and panting, your brain was literally on fire, pleasure surging like electricity through your veins - and if that wasn't the literal definition of a mind-blowing orgasm, you didn't know what was.

You couldn't believe your own luck. A heavy weight was lifted off your chest, you felt carefree and light, floating in nothingness for a moment, mind entirely blank.

You must have carried a quite loopy smile, looking down at Stephen, having pulled back enough to let him breathe, not wanting to smother him altogether - because it would honestly have been a shame to get rid of him now.

But Stephen took it like a champ, entirely unfazed, just smiled back at you, hair still tousled from sleep, cheeks reddened, lips swollen red, mouth and chin glistening with saliva and slick of your arousal, a filthy reminder of what had just happened.

He looked damn pleased with himself and admittedly so, you were more than pleased with him as well.

Too weak in the knees to gracefully get off Stephen, you nearly tumbled backwards on top of him, almost crushing him with your awkward shuffling around. Your head was still a little too scrambled to word your satisfaction, but you were sure Stephen understood you quite well, even without words.

He seemed smug. Amused. There was this glimmer in his eyes as he watched you climbing off his body. You felt the urge to simply whack him with a pillow for his grin alone, but reconsidered.

Let him have a little joy. A little satisfaction. He seemed at ease and you loved to see it.

Coming to lay beside Stephen again, utterly tired and probably ready for another hour of sleep now that he had knocked this orgasm out of you, you found your own kind of enjoyment. Almost a sweet moment, if one ignored the fact you had just sat on his face mere minutes ago, and one you were willing to make the most of, for as long as it would last.

Instead of simply fleeing the scene like last time, you closed the distance to cuddle up to him, placing your head on his chest and a hand to his stomach, happy with the fact that the man accepted your affections and went on to hold you in his embrace. He seemed content and as you shut your eyes, fully welcoming his comforting warmth to lull you back to sleep, you swore you could feel him press a soft kiss to the crown of your head.

For now, it was more than enough. But who knew where this little encounter would eventually take the two of you?

"candlelit treasures"

author's note: according to Google Docs, I started this one in LATE JANUARY... so yeah it's been a while. like damn. im embarrassed. but here it is guys!! I honestly got so busy and have been in and out of depressive episodes with how little personal time I now get, but it's all gonna be worth it once I get these major projects out of the way (I'm working on films)! anyways HERE'S YOUR MAN COME AND GET HIM

Pairing: Kíli / Gender-Neutral Reader

Word Count: 4,368

summary: busy days and royal duties have worn down your poor lover, so it's time to let him feel just how much you treasure him.

content warnings: nsfw, porn with a little plot if you squint, soft nsfw, cunnilingus, blowjob, penetration, pet names (starlight), riding, switch! reader, switch! kíli, whining/moaning men (my favorite), all the fun stuff <3

DO NOT REPOST OR COPY. MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT.

In the dimly lit room where candles illuminated what the fireplace could not, he leaned back into you, seating himself between your thighs as your fingertips ran across his scalp, massaging and playing with his hair. A sigh left his lips as he felt himself feeling more relaxed, but tension still gnawed at him from the inside. A shiver ran through him as his back met flush with your abdomen, and you stopped your ministrations, your fingers pausing amidst his brown tresses.

“You’re nervous.” You said, your voice disturbing the crackling of the fire as you observed him. It had been a little while since you two could be like this, safe and warm as you both consumed each other’s company in the silence of your shared room. Your love’s royal lineage kept him busy as of late, and so it was only on nights like this where you two could share a tender moment together.

He took a deep breath, trying to relax. “You’re very warm,” he said.

“We’ve done this countless times, Kíli,” you said, continuing what you were doing as your fingers danced in his hair, now gathering some strands to begin your braid. He gave a nervous chuckle as his head leaned into your touch, his deep brown eyes looking up at you. 

“I know, amrâlimê,” he breathed, his eyes glinting with reflections of the candles’ flame. “But this is what you do to me.” Every time, without fail, you left him breathless. Even now, as the fire danced and brightened your face, he found his heart racing and his skin on fire. He reached behind him, taking your hand that was fixed on braiding and trailing down his face, then his neck, then his chest until it was placed over his beating heart. “I cannot control it.”

You smiled, leaning down to place a kiss on his forehead, his eyes closing as he lovingly received it. It seemed as though braiding would have to wait. “Why do you still get so nervous when you’re with me?”

A small silence fell over him as he studied your face. Even in the dark, you were beautiful. You seemed to walk in a completely different world than him, made of light and warmth and strength. He had thought so ever since he had met you. “I want to be the best I can be when I’m with you,” he said. “You deserve that much.”

“Amrâlimê,” you frowned, cupping his cheek. “You have nothing to prove to me. I am and always will be yours. That is all I deserve.” You placed another soft kiss on his warm skin, his eyes closing as he exhaled from the feeling. Slowly but surely, he was beginning to relax from the stress and pressure of his life and day. 

“You are much more than I deserve,” he said, reaching a hand of his own to rest itself in your hair, his touch tender and careful. You took his hand, bringing it to your lips as you planted a kiss to each of his knuckles.

“Don’t speak so lowly of yourself, my love,” you sighed. “Or shall I prove to you once again how much you mean to me?”

A kind smile crossed his face as he now turned in place to face you from a better angle. He leaned in, placing a gentle kiss on your lips, then your cheek, and then finally rested his forehead against yours. “Not if I do so first,” he said, his hands now leaving yours to cup your face.

“Is that a challenge?” You raised a brow, glad to see he was beginning to actually enjoy himself.

Another kiss met your lips, and you smiled. “You’re so quick to seek competition,” he joked. “It drives me crazy.”

“Mm, is that so?” You teased, kissing his nose.

A sigh left him as he looked into your eyes, and you had never felt so safe. When you were with him, nothing else mattered. He nodded his head. “It’s hard for me to think clearly when I’m around you, my love.”

“Then don’t hold back,” you said. “Go ahead, it’s okay to give in.”

His eyes flitted back to your lips for a moment, before meeting your gaze once more. “You would let me?”

“I would let you have me in any way if it meant I could feel you here with me,” you said. He drew a breath at this comment, slowly becoming more and more entranced by you as he felt himself becoming undone by your words and implications. Once more, his eyes snaked to your lips until finally, he leaned in, placing his slightly chapped lips on your more soft ones.

Your hands wandered up from his shoulders to his neck until they finally met their destination in his brown tresses, the idea of braids long forgotten as your fingertips tangled themselves in his hair. His strong arms supported you as you leaned down to kiss him, your lips dancing together in a soft dance of reunion that the two of you hadn’t had in some time now. How long had it been since the last time? 

It felt like forever ago, but Kíli was quick to fix that as he pulled away to trail kisses all over your face. His lips peppered your cheeks, then your jawline, and then slowly he made a path down your neck, his kisses soft and full of love and admiration. He took his time taking in your skin as he placed small bites about your neck in between kisses. There was no need to rush. 

“I’ve missed you,” he groaned softly, his voice hush as his breath tickled your neck. You let out a pent-up sigh, allowing your hands to tighten their grip just a little in his hair. You felt him smile against your skin when you did this, and it made you proud. “It’s been so long, my love.”

You nodded, taking a breath. “Yes, it has.” Gently, you tugged on his hair to bring his face back to yours as you placed more kisses on his lips, savoring the taste as you took your time to enjoy this shared space between you two. “Too long.”

“Then let me make up for lost time,” he muttered, his eyes soaking you in as he pulled back and pushed you softly away from him. Your back met flush with the chair now as you looked at him in awe. He seemed to glow in the candlelight, and you had never seen such a pretty sight. He was everything to you.

Taking his time, his hands traced the shape of your figure, his warm palms traveling down your seated body until they rested themselves on top of your knees, gently pulling them apart to get you to spread your legs. Without any resistance, you gave in to his silent demands, baiting your breath as his fingers carefully snaked up your legs to meet the waistband of your trousers. Slowly, he tucked his fingers into the waistband, tugging lightly as he pulled them down. You rose a little in your seat to aid him, your eyes never leaving his pretty brown ones as you let him continue with his plan. 

As your trousers now found their place on the floor, the cool air on your legs brought a slight shiver down your spine. Kíli sat up on his knees in between your legs as he rubbed circles on your thighs, his rough hands never feeling softer on your skin. “I want to relish this, amrâlimê,” he said. “I want to take my time with you.”

He leaned down, carefully placing kisses and bites along the inner seam of your thighs, starting at your knees and working his way in, closer and closer to the one place where you were starting to feel more and more warm. His eyes never left your face, wanting to see you all breathy and dazed as he savored the taste of your skin on his tongue. Mahal knows he had missed this. He had missed you.

You knew not what to do with your hands, keeping one over your heart as the other reached down to pet his hair lovingly, adoring the way he looked beneath you. You melted into his touch, feeling yourself heating up more and more simply at the thought of what was to come. “I need you, Kíli,” you said, your voice a fell whisper in the silence of the room where only the fire’s crackling occurred. 

“I know, my love,” he smiled, his kisses coming closer and closer to where you wanted his lips. “But I need you to be patient.”

“Please,” you let out, growing weak with want and need. He knew this; he knew your body like the back of his hand. Of course, he hadn’t always been the most skillful with you, but time was a wonderful teacher. He ceased his kisses for just a moment, fingers pulling your underwear to the side so he could get a look at you. He blew cool air on your cunt, and you sighed from the feeling, but it wasn’t enough.

“I suppose just this once,” he smiled, leaning closer to you, and you could feel his warm breath on your cunt as he gazed up at you with loving eyes. Gentle were his fingers as they spread you apart, making room so his lips could place a kiss right on your hooded clit. You felt yourself twitch at the feeling for a moment, a breathy gasp leaving your lips as you gave a light laugh. Kíli beamed at you as his tongue dipped into your folds, licking a swipe along your seam as he kept his stare fixated on you.

Passionate and tender were his touches as he tasted you, already finding himself addicted to your taste. A little sweet, a little salty, but always a fine delicacy in his mind. His tongue carefully lapped you up as he ate you out, your arousal coating his lips as a mix of it and saliva dripped a little from his chin. You tried your best to keep your breathing even, small moans and whimpers leaving your throat as your hand in his hair fastened its grip, tugging lightly. He knew he was doing a good job, and it turned him on. He could feel himself growing in his trousers at the sound of your pretty voice, wanting to silence you with his lips if he wasn’t already so busy with enjoying his meal. You brought your hand that had been over your heart now over your mouth, trying to stifle the sweet sounds escaping you as you tried your best to focus on the way his doe eyes never left yours.

He groaned against you, and the vibrations from it left you bucking your hips slightly, desperate for more of his touches and breaths. “Amrâlimê, please,” he chuckled. “Don’t hide your sweet voice from me, I want to hear you so badly. I need to hear you.”

His pleading and whining tone was more than enough incentive to take your hand away from your mouth, your moans now growing louder as he became more greedy in his endeavors. With a more hurried pace, he seemed to explore you with his tongue, leaving no part untouched except where you could feel yourself needing him the most. But it wasn’t out of cruelty that he did this, rather he truly wanted to savor every little twitch and sigh and whine you gave him as he played your body like his favorite instrument.

Slowly, he added a finger, and you bucked your hips a little from the feeling, loving the way he was beginning to fill you up, though you knew you wouldn’t be satisfied from just this for long. Now wanting to egg you on, he caught your clit with his lips, swiping it with his tongue as he eagerly kept his pace, adding another finger that pumped in and out of you at a tantalizing pace. Your moans grew louder and much more frequent as he laid his attack on your most sensitive part, your head falling back from the sheer amount of pleasure as your legs tightened around him. He repositioned himself for a moment, drawing away much to your dismay as he removed your underwear and placed each of your legs upon his shoulders.

“I need you to keep them spread, my starlight,” he said, placing soft kisses on your inner thighs once more before diving back into the fray of your arousal. You gave a weak nod, barely even registering his words in your mind, for pleasure was all you knew right now. The more he lapped at your sensitive bundle of nerves, the more you could feel that familiar tight feeling growing inside of you. It was all you could think about, your mind drunk on the way his tongue danced inside of you.

And he himself was growing quite drunk as well, your juices like a forbidden candy to him. He couldn’t get enough, his fingers quickening their pace as he felt himself growing hungrier and more greedy. He truly wanted to consume you for the rest of his days, your taste so addictive on his tongue. His pants were now feeling much more constrictive, and he groaned at the feeling as he desperately wanted to replace his fingers and tongue with something else. But he was a patient man, and knew that waiting and letting this play out would be much more enjoyable and memorable for the two of you tonight.

More and more you felt that familiar and delicious tightening feeling grow inside you amidst your moans and breaths of pleasure as you tugged on his hair, pulling him closer to your heat in encouragement. “Please, oh fuck,” you said. “Please, Kíli.”

“Are you close?” He asked in between his attacks on your puffy clit, and all you could fathom to respond with was a quick nod. He smiled as his tongue swiped your insides, incredibly turned on by the notion that you could barely even think or speak from the pleasure he was bringing you. “Good.”

You were just about to ask him to go faster when you suddenly pulled him away from you by his hair, your chest heaving and that tightening feeling dissipating in a disappointed fashion as Kíli looked up at you with concerned eyes. “What is it? Did I hurt you?” He asked quickly, worrying if he had done something to displease you. You shook your head, trying to ignore how much you desperately wanted to finish already. You had other plans first. You wanted to take care of him. You could feel yourself throbbing and pulsing before you slid out of your chair and into Kíli’s lap, straddling him. His eyes searched your hungry gaze as he wondered what was going through your mind.

“No, my love,” the words finally met the air. “I just…” You trailed off, placing kisses along his stubble as you pressed yourself against his growing erection, causing a groan to leave his pretty lips, glossy from your juices. “I want to take care of you.” Your hands trailed down, one on his shoulder to stabilize yourself as the other went down to palm him through his trousers. He was painfully hard, and you smiled as his whole body shuddered from your touch. You loved the way his brows furrowed when you did this, the way his whole face seemed to contort in pleasure.

Your kisses delved lower, now peppering his neck as you made sure to leave gentle bites and marks along his dwarven skin. He leaned his head back to give you better access, propping himself on his arms. “Amrâlimê,” he said, his voice soft and full of need. “You’re too good to me.”

You smiled into his skin, bringing your lips to his ear to softly kiss his earlobe. “I know, now let me show it. Let me give you what you deserve.”

You now stood up, hovering over his body as you offered your hand out to him. He took it without hesitation, eagerly willing to follow you anywhere in Arda as you led him to your shared bed. You guided him onto it, letting him rest on top of your various pillows as he looked at you with so many emotions. Lust, love, and a pining curiosity for what you had in store.

“I want you to be comfortable, love,” you said, your words like honey as you climbed on top of him, sitting next to him as your fingers worked to loosen his trousers as you slowly pulled them off of your lover. His half-lidded eyes watched you carefully as he lifted himself to help you in your mission, his member finally freeing itself from the harsh confines of his pants. A ragged breath left him as his hard cock met the cool air, and you cast his pants to some dark and forgotten corner for now. 

Gentle were your hands as you spread his legs, seating yourself in between them before running a hand along the length of his shaft. He gasped at your touch, his eyes transfixed on the way you handled him. “You’re so good to me, Kíli,” you said as you leaned down to place a kiss on the tip of his cock, which was slick with precum. His breath hitched as he watched you, refusing to take his eyes off you. You ran your tongue along his length, flicking his swollen head with the tip of your tongue as you stared up at him. “And I want to show you how much I treasure you.”

“Amrâlimê,” he said, forgetting his words as a moan ripped out of him as you took him into your mouth, bringing your head down as you sheathed him inside of your mouth. Slowly, you brought your head back up, placing another kiss on his tip with a smile that feigned innocence.

“That’s it, let it all out. Let me hear you.” You said, taking him into your mouth again, and his hand shot down to tangle itself in your hair as you slowly bobbed your head up and down along his length, your hands massaging and stroking whatever you couldn’t reach with your throat. He threw his head back and bucked his hips up, causing you to gag. Seeing him in such pleasure only egged you on as you continued, slowly getting faster and faster but still making sure to keep it gradual. You wanted to take your time with him just as he had done with you.

His whines and groans seemed to only get more and more pleading the longer you went on, sweat forming on his forehead as he begged you to go faster. You were happy to oblige but eager to watch him moan your name some more, only increasing your pace little by little. He keened for you, bucking his hips more if only to feel his tip tickle the back of your throat, your gags and whines sending vibrations down his shaft that drove him crazy. You always looked so beautiful when his cock was in your mouth.

As a mixture of drool and precum dribbled from your lips down onto his shaft, you continued quickening your pace, your head bobbing up and down in between small twirls and flicks of your tongue on his tip, which twitched in your mouth. His body shuddered under your touch, his stomach trembling with each of your movements and his shoulders shaking. Your hands were quick to stroke the rest of his length and care for his balls as you felt your jaw going sore from your endeavors. 

The more he bucked his hips, the deeper he seemed to bully himself down your throat, and it drove him wild. You kept forcing breaths through your nose, not wanting to take a break for the sake of pleasing him. He was quickly finding that unraveling, tight feeling ball up inside him as his cries grew louder and more frantic. “Fuck, Y/N,” he moaned, his hand gripping your hair tightly. “Please, a little more…”

And quickly, he came undone. You always had this effect on him, skillful enough with your mouth that you left him a moaning mess. You eagerly swallowed every last drop he gave you as his cock twitched in your mouth, pulsing with each wave of his orgasm. His chest heaved as he tried to regain a normal breathing pattern, a soft smile on his face after you eventually swallowed around him one more time before finally bringing yourself back up for air. It felt so cool in your throat as you too tried to regain your composure.

His hand in your hair loosened its grip, now finding your scalp to offer soothing strokes and massages as a silent apology for how rough he had grabbed it. “Tell me how I taste,” he said, eyes clouded with lust as he came down from his high.

You smirked, bringing yourself to his face as you leaned over him. “Why don’t you find out for yourself, hm?” You gently took his chin, guiding your lips together in a sloppy, messy kiss. A whine erupted from his throat as you deepened the kiss with a swipe of your tongue before breaking it, a line of saliva connecting your lips.

“You never finished,” he said, his eyes taking in how beautiful you looked with his taste in your mouth, the slight sweat on your brow making you glow in front of him as he brought a hand to your clit, massaging small circles, eager to please you. 

A small whine left you, not expecting his touch so quickly as you buried your head in his neck. “I was trying to take care of you first,” you said weakly, feeling that warm feeling build up again. “I want to make you feel good.”

He hummed, a smile on his lips. “Then why don’t we share the feeling?” His hand left you, now moving your hips to guide you over his length, already hard again. You lifted your hips as he guided his cock inside you slowly, not wanting to overwhelm you. But you were eager as you lowered yourself onto his hips, sheathing himself inside you as you took his length in full. A whiny moan left his lips as you did so, completely caught by surprise at your impatience. 

“Fuck…” he whined, and your head returned to his neck to plant kisses and bites as well as hide the small moans and breaths that left you as you began to slowly rock your hips, wanting to feel him as closely as possible, craving that sweet heat of friction. He shuddered from the sudden feeling of your warmth, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he tried to steady his breathing. 

“You take me so well, starlight,” he said, his expression completely fucked out at the feeling of you squeezing him so nicely. He always looked so beautiful when he was a whining, moaning mess underneath you. A glistening sheen of sweat decorated his forehead and cheeks, his bangs sticking to him slightly as his eyelids fluttered shut for a moment. It was now that you slowly began to rock your hips against his legs, grinding into him. “Fuck… You’re so good at this.”

“Only for you,” you said with a breathy tone. “I’m all yours.” You sped up your pace little by little, relishing the way he filled you up so perfectly. You could sit like this for hours if you really wanted to, and you knew he wouldn’t complain. He loved the warm wet feeling of your cunt sucking him in. 

After a moment of enjoying your movements, Kíli joined you, bucking his hips into you slowly as you began bouncing on his cock, desperately chasing the delicious friction of the current situation. His fingers dug into your hips hard enough that you were sure they would leave bruises later, but that was the least of your worries as you sought to bring this man underneath you undone. With a vice on your hips, he guided you up and down his shaft, the funny feeling from earlier bubbling inside him as he wanted nothing but his release now. Nothing but this moment between you as he broke his moans with soft praises that were meant for only you and nobody else.

“Please,” he begged with a breathy tone. “Harder, please keep going.”

A smile met your lips, feeling proud of how easily you could have this man unraveled beneath you. You lived for this feeling and you couldn’t get enough. Happy to comply with his request, you kept your pace steady as you brought yourself down on him with more force, which was only more enjoyable for both of you as a plethora of pleasurable sounds left your lips. It was feeling so good, so nice, so delicious. Words were hard to form in your mind as you tucked your head in the crook of his neck, biting down and leaving your mark on your world.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he found himself lost in the feeling of how wonderfully you pulsed and squeezed around him. “Please, more…”

You two kept at this for a few more minutes before he quickly came undone, your name ripping from his throat as his brows furrowed in the feeling of his release as he filled you up inside. But you still hadn’t finished yet, and he was ever the gentleman, now slamming you on his length with the last bit of composure and strength he had as you eventually came undone on top of him, your breathing uneven as whines left you and into his ear.

“Had enough yet, love?” You teased warmly, head still hiding in his neck as you tried desperately to regain your breathing as you came down from your high.

“No,” he whispered, his voice laced with lust and want. “Please, amrâlimê… I need more.”

A weak chuckle left you, knowing all too well that this was just the beginning for both of you.

Wanderer/Scaramouche | De Novo

ıllı Synopsis: Can broken hearts be mended? If a chance shows itself in front of you, will it be all right to take it and hold your hand once again?

ıllı Genre: Angst, Comfort, Modern AU

ıllı Notes: Gender Neutral Reader

ıllı Warnings: Cursing, Drinking, Depression

ıllı A/N: This story had been sitting rent free in my mind for days, and I finally had the courage to write it! I can’t believe it took me so long because I don’t want to feel the paint, but please enjoy! (P.S. I’m spoiling this guy along with Kaveh)

Scaramouche had never felt so empty and numb. Not even when his mother neglected him nor when he lost two of his childhood friends to accidents. No, he was as hollow as a dead twig the moment you two broke up because of his arrogance, insensitivity, and obduracy.

Everything returned to how it was before he became yours. It was mundane, boring, and tiring. When his electrifying gaze bore at the outside world, it was black and white. Too monotone for his liking. It was as if you took away with you the colors that allowed him to see the beauty of his surroundings.

‘…Why am I like this?’ He exhausted, mindlessly writing the professor’s words in his notebook. He felt like a puppet. Somebody subjected to the musings of the world, one they could toy with and throw away afterward. He lost his own will.

The change in Scaramouche’s mood did not go unnoticed by his blockmates. In fact, those who knew his temper strayed away from his path, not bothering to interact with the man. He did not mind. Not one bit, but he missed you. So much that he felt like dying.

When lunch came, Tartaglia and Aether came to his classroom and inquired about their friend. Kindly enough, two of his classmates told him that Scaramouche already left. Presumably somewhere quiet to eat. The two glanced at each other in worry. The moment they noticed the sullen shift in their friend’s mood, they immediately asked what happened. The reply they got was that you two broke up because of him. He said words he did not mean to and would not be able to take them back due to his reasoning. That he deserved it after the pain you endured just to keep your relationship afloat.

“Hey, Aether. How is (Y/N) doing anyway? I failed to get their contact details back then, so I have no way to contact them. I doubt they even open the request section of the messenger.” Tartaglia huffed. The blond recalled his conversation with his sister who was your friend. She did not want to disclose anything. Not when she knew how Scaramouche hurt you.

“Oh, man. Scara is the type to mull over things, and if this goes on, who knows what will happen to that guy.” The ginger muttered. Aether could only nod in agreement.

As for Scaramouche, he was at the gardens where you two would eat together. Despite the differences in your schedules, you two made it work out and have a meal together. It might not be always, but the thought of spending time together to energize you before another draining class was enough act of love for him. Right now, he could not sense that happiness and tranquility. It was only the cold wind that accompanied his figure.

‘…I wonder what you’re doing right now. I miss you.’ He thought to himself, lightly brushing the place you would always sit at.

“If I could turn back time, I would take back all that I said. I would say I love you as many times as you want. I would kiss you as many times as I could. I would cherish you for the longest time possible.” He muttered. His hands quivered. The tears he held back threatened to escape his eyes, but he wiped them away again. He did not deserve to cry.

When class ended, he swiftly grabbed his bag and left for your once-shared home. It was just an empty room now, but the comforting scent you carried with you lingered in the air. It was a combination of jasmine, vanilla, and mint. Whenever he felt a panic attack coming or the stress chowing at him, he would shyly ask to be held in your arms. It was endearing that he let you see his vulnerable side, and a smile would bloom on your face the moment he relaxed.

“It feels so cold without you here.”

The following days repeated themselves. Wake up, eat breakfast, go to university, then go home and sleep. It was a nightmarish Samsara he could not escape. It slowly drove him crazy. The walls felt like they were closing on him, and the noise from his blockmates’ chatters was deafening. At one point, he might have lost his mind by drinking bottles of wine to drown his sorrows away. He did not come to class for two days. The moment he came back, he despised the gossip he accidentally heard from Tartaglia and Aether.

“Diluc asked them out!? You mean that rich redhead from Mondstadt who is the heir to Angel’s Share?” Tartaglia gasped. Aether looked at his phone and reread the message he got from his sister, whom you confined about the matter.

“What did they say? They must have agreed considering he’s the richest bachelor in the area. Not to mention, they will be treated well by the man.” The ginger claimed. Although at the back of his mind, he worried about his friend's reaction should he learn of this. Scaramouche lost all feelings and left before he could hear Aether’s reply. He did not want to hear how happy you must have become. What Scaramouche did not know was that you turned down the man.

“What!? They turned him down? Why?” Tartaglia thought that it was such a waste, but the blond knew why. His eyes softened at the text he got from you.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to move on, Ae. Not when I love Scaramouche so much. He’s the only person I’ll ever love, be it now or in another life. - (Y/N)”

Everything was going to be fine.

When Scaramouche returned to class, he did not bother listening to the professor. All that he could feel was bitter loneliness and frustration. The instructor tried to gain his attention but to no avail. His blockmates whispered amongst each other about what could have set his bad mood, but eventually left him to his own devices. The man was smart enough to pass the subject, and hearsays did not bother him. Nothing but you could bother him.

After another weary day, Scaramouche did not go home early. He swiftly made his way to a convenience store and buy cans of beer. It was time to drown his feelings away and just feel happy. Even if it was imaginary.

Scaramouche went to the park he spent his last moment with you and sat on the bench facing the playground. He vividly remembered the day you two broke up. It was your anniversary, and you wanted to spend time with him stargazing, a hobby you developed to ease your stress. However, it was also that time when he heard from his mother. Her assistant, Yae Miko, contacted him and wished for the man to change university and course. They wanted him to be their puppet and succeed in the family business. He declined, but he was threatened that they would stop funding his schooling. Anger bubbled through his stomach, and your carefree attitude blew him off. He ended up shouting his frustrations at you.

“You will never understand the pain I endured! I really can’t stand the likes of you.” He seethed.

“…So, this is really it? I-I see. Then… thank you, and I’m sorry for everything.” You mumbled, leaving him in the dark to his thoughts. By the time he regained his senses, you were gone. He could not contact you nor did he ever see you. You avoided him at all cost. Eventually, he gave up and wallowed in his self-pity.

Returning to the present, Scaramouche grabbed one can and drank it without stopping. One after another, he emptied the beers and muttered curses about his arrogance and stupidity. He babbled about how he hated his assurance that you would not leave him despite keeping you at arm’s length. He disliked that he could embrace your kindness, and now that you were gone, he longed for it. He despised himself for being a coward, for not telling you that he was afraid to love because he might hurt you as he did to his friends.

“L-Look at where it got you, idiot? Isolated. Alone. Cold. And they’re not coming back. Ha…Hahaha! Stupid! Stupid! You stupid coward.” He cried. One lone tear trickled down his cheek, then another, and another. He was a sobbing mess by the time he was done. The night sky twinkled above him, and it felt like they were mocking his misery.

“I just miss them. Please return them to me.” He begged pitifully.

Suddenly, light footsteps could be heard from behind. His upset gaze met your fatigued ones. Time seemed to have stopped for a moment. His breath hitched as he tried to discern if he was simply dreaming or not. He lightly laughed and muttered that there was no way you would be here.

“I’m finally going crazy, huh? Hahaha. How low of me.” You heard. Carefully, you walked towards him and held his hands. With a wry smile, you wiped his tears with your handkerchief.

“This is the first time I saw you drink and break down like this. Come on. Let’s get you home.” You urged, ready to pull him up. Scaramouche, who was stunned, quickly clutched the sides of your clothes and shook his head.

“I don’t… I don’t want to go home without you, (Y/N). I don’t want to remember that cold room. Please let me stay where you are. I—“ He implored, his throat closing up at the fear of going home without you, of finally letting go. He could not—did not want that.

Realization dawned on you, so in a comforting tone, you crouched down and held his quivering figure. You caressed his lavender tresses carefully until he calmed down. And when he did, you pulled from his embrace and cupped his cheeks. He wanted to cry again and just remain in your arms, but there were important things he needed to say.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, (Y/N). I did not mean anything. I… I love you so much, so please. Please don’t leave me.” He was crying again, and you were about to as well. Your breakup did not bode well for you, and every day felt like torture without him. Suffocating even. You understood that he might be harsh on the side, but he also had his tender moments.

“If… If we return to how we were back then, will things be different? Will you still keep me at arm’s length?” You inquired with a tint of loneliness. Scaramouche stared at you and shook his head no. He realized his mistake and would like to start again.

“I want to… show you all of me. If you will let me.” He mumbled. Happy with his response, you wiped the rest of his tears and embraced him.

“Then let’s go home. I’ll cook your favorite. Plus, you need to take a bath. You reek!” You teased. He huffed indignantly but returned the loving gesture.

“Let’s stay like this for a while, please.” You lightly chuckled at the request but did not let go. It had been so long without him by your side. This was the reassurance you needed to secure that you made the right decision.

“Of course. I missed you too.”

BONUS:

“Hey, I heard some guy named Diluc asked you out on a date. I— You’re not going anymore, right?” Scaramouche mumbled against your neck. He looked like a cat nuzzling his master for food from your point of view, making you lightly chuckle.

“I already turned him down. He was a cool guy and did not make a fuss about it. Don’t worry, I’m all yours, Scara.” You responded, squeezing his hand. He smiled and nearly dozed off from relief.

“I love you, (Y/N).”

“I love you too.”

Please do not copy or repost my stories, but notes and reblogs are always appreciated!

✎. The snow guides me to you

SUMMARY: It’s not the easiest task for those to confess their love so easily; yet even in your absence all he can think about is you, so why not try anyways?

FEATURING CAST: Alhaitham!!! hehe secret Santa gift for @prawndip! hi hi this is for you <3

PRONOUNS: gender neutral reader!, second person perspective “You”

WORD COUNT: 1444 words

WARNINGS: i think this is pretty fluffy, just about him going from “I tolerate you I guess” to “oh I think I like you” less in than 2k words

AUTHOR NOTES: writing this never made me feel so single before not going to lie - Wasn’t sure if you celebrated Christmas so I just went with a general winter theme, but changes can be made ^^ just send me an ask and I’ll prepare something else! I know it probably doesn’t snow in Sumeru or like,,,, the rest of Teyvat except for Dragonspine and Snezhnaya but …. Listen it’s for the plot 😔

✉︎ Alhaitham

The first time he met you was under a glittering sheen of snow, the frosty flakes and the cold nipping at his skin. At the time both you and him were only children, exploring the world under your feet, too caught up in the enveloping curiosity you felt; from wandering the Grand Bazaar to the ends of the city where the forest began, it was all so enticing for children to explore.

Despite your curiosities, there would always be a slight difference between you two, and that was that Alhaitham, your childhood friend, was always prepared. On the other hand, you, unfortunately, were not. So when the snow fell from the sky, almost by instinct your head turned towards him as though he was your answer.

Amidst the gray clody skies, coloured in shades of fossil and silver, there stood two children. Just far enough from the city to tune out any merchant chatter, or the noise of the city slowly getting ready for the end of the day; endless footsteps echoed across the pavement. The two children stood, bantering, almost, most likely because of the falling snowflakes.

Capturing one with your hands, you admire it’s beauty, the shaped perfection that these crystals had were utterly breath-taking, of course, if it were not for the cold you wouldn’t have an issue. Unfortunately for you, your archon decided to spare no mercy for the unprepared as the temperatures dropped even lower.

“Does it look like I’m your saviour?” Adorable as he seemed, he looked almost fed up with your antics. In hindsight, he really was adorable, if you ignored the irritation in his voice, or the passive scoldings that he’d give you; with all things considered, he was a good friend. Despite bantering with you from time to time, you truly care for him. And fortunately, that was reciprocated.

“Yes it does actually,” placing a mocking hand on your forehead as you clutched your heart, ready to give a performance that would just shy of opera standards, “my one and only friend. We’ve been through so much in our brief lives, and you’ve always been the one guiding me, the light in the dark-”

“So you’ve forgotten your gloves again?”

“Once again, you are right my dear Watson! Your deduction skills are simply extraordinary!” nodding your head solemnly as though you weren’t talking about your forgotten gloves. You continued, “However, it isn’t as it seems, although it appears as though I’ve misplaced them, or dare I say, forget them. They are here, in my pocket!”

All that fell out of your pockets were marbles.

“While you were having your little soliloquy, I thought it’d be better that at least one of us brings an extra pair,” he sighed, and for a moment you let yourself misleadingly think that maybe he isn’t so bad, perhaps he did have a soft spot for you all along, “of course, to compensate for the other’s forgetfulness.” 

“Sometimes I forget how much of a jerk you are.”

“The feeling’s mutual.” He promptly throws a pair of gloves without any warning, and you let your hands tread across the material very carefully as though it were a prized heirloom. Surprisingly, the glove fit almost as if tailored, and the material was incredibly soft against your skin.

Maybe you wouldn’t be wrong in assuming he cared about you a little more than he let on.

The next time you meet, the both of you are fervent researchers of the Akademiya, eagerly searching for all the answers that didn’t exist, and trying to gain an understanding of the environment around you. Although, Alhaitham supposes that you’ve taken the latter part of that statement a little too seriously as you tried gathering samples of even the flowers around Sumeru City, much less the snow.

Perhaps in a last-ditch effort of finding a perfect thesis, your mind could only find one solution.

As typical years of Akademiya alumni would describe, the arduous process of creating your thesis begins, however it began with searching for the perfect topic. Ideally one that no one had previous research on 

Crouching while trying to stuff some random moss from the pavement, you carefully select your words before voicing them aloud, “Hey Alhaitham-”

“It’s a bad idea.” Flabbergasted, you whipped your head to look at him in disbelief.

“But I didn’t even speak?!”

He sighed, as if expecting the answer, “I’m not wrong though.” 

“Anyways, what if I made my thesis about how good snow tasted?”

“That’d be wonderful, you could even make up another culinary darshan.”

You scoffed, resisting the urge to curse him out further in favour of gathering snow to make into a snowball, juggling it between your two hands as if contemplating your further decision.

Taking notice of this, “If you eat that, I won’t be liable for any physical illnesses you go through.”

“You say that as if you were planning to take care of me in the first place?”

He remains silent.

Although he cherished your smile, and especially your laughter (fuzzy feelings swirl around in his mind, for reasons unknown) he do has to admit that your especially low view of him does hurt him quite a bit. Regardless, he’s content remaining as is. The silent friend who shows up once a blue moon to show they actually care for you, the one who’s been waiting for you to take notice of his feelings, and waiting even longer to accept that maybe he didn’t just tolerate you.

Although unlikely, it’s possible that he’s taken a liking towards you.

The next time he sees you, he’s more than conclusive about his own matters, unable to deny it any longer, all that’s left is to accept his growing feelings for you. Especially with the way that you always seemed to meet him with the change of seasons. Like anyone else, he has his own secret to keep; and his seemed to be that he looked forward to winter for the chance to see you.

As busy students in the Akademiya, it’s not odd that you two find it difficult to share time together outside of the occasional glances shared in the halls with the occasional nods of acknowledgement. Despite this, the saying does go, “the heart grows fonder with absence” and that proved true with Alhaitham.

How ironic was it that someone who vehemently rejected human emotions felt one of the most strongest known feelings?

There was a moment in time where all he could do was spare a glance at you in the library, or the halls. Even if all he could do was spare a few of his thoughts for you, it didn’t help him get over this crush; almost akin to a poet’s longing glances towards their muse, drawn to the inspiration the other offers. It was almost laughable how his thoughts were easily drawn to you the moment the moon rose, when all was quiet in the city, when the lanterns were lit and the citizens drawn into a slumber.

Or perhaps the way his mind would drift to you even while the sun was high up in the sky, when the breeze felt a little too quiet, and the space beside him was unoccupied.

Time passed as endless and unchanging as ever, no compromises to be made, or any hesitation. Just like the grains of sand trickling down the glass, counting down to when he could see you again. Not like it could tell an exact date, but it helped pass the lonesome hours by. The endless feeling of work was a routine he took a liking to; although he found that including you in that routine was something he yearned to do.

It was then that he understood what he needed to do.

Only a letter was left on your desk with elegant writing, the name of the sender and everything was all left out as though it was of no importance; only requesting your presence at midnight at the “place where memories were”.

While you waited in the dark, the snow began to fall from the sky like it had all those years ago, except this time he was not the boy he once was, and you were not the child you once were either. With a smile you only knew that there could only be one person who called your attention like this, and it was him.

If it were anyone else you would’ve been displeased at the simple conversation, but because it was him, Alhaitham, your heart soared above the clouds, yet to reach the ground. 

“I think I love you.”

“Think?”

“I apologize, I know.”

The Satyr’s Song

Yandere Male Satyr x Gender Neutral Deer-Person Reader (CW: Manipulation, general yandere behavior, coerced relationship, illusions, deer hybrid reader, yandere satyr) Word Count: 1.6k (My other beta reader and long time friend @lilliumumi made a request and helped develop the ideas for a satyr yandere, there was supposed to be some smut, but I could not fit it in yet, there may be a super short sequel that’s just smut, idk. Anyway, I hope everyone enjoys this.)  The Forest of Ethreyal was a place of picturesque beauty and was, at first glance, the very definition of peaceful. It was home to many mythical and wondrous creatures found nowhere else in the world. Centaurs, satyrs, many different types of fae, and your species, the deer-folk. For the most part all the intelligent races of the forest got along really well together, though you were warned to never let yourself be alone with a satyr though. You did not know why, you weren’t sure anyone remembered why, it is just something that the older deer-folk told to the younger ones.    At any rate, it was yet another beautiful day in the forest, you were enjoying the pleasant breeze as you foraged for fruits and wild growing greens for your people. You did not know why but you simply could not shake the feeling that you were being watched, oh well, it was surely just your imagination, as there was no real danger in the forest. You went about your task, busily collecting berries of various types and greens into your basket.  As you began to finish up, having filled up your basket, your ears pricked. You faintly detected the most enchanting music you had ever heard from deeper in the forest. It was an area you had never visited before, but you had no fear having been raised in such peaceful surroundings, and it was still a part of The Forest of Ethreyal after all. How could following such beauteous music in the enchanted forest that you called home be dangerous?  It took you a few minutes off the beaten trail before you finally discovered the source of the music. There, in the middle of a fairly large clearing bordered by vibrant flowers and illuminated by the cascading rays of the evening sun filtered through the clouds, was a satyr frolicking and playing a pan flute.  You vaguely remembered warnings about not leaving yourself alone with a satyr, but surely they were mistaken, no one wicked could be in a place of such resplendence. The satyr male looked at you and did not break eye contact as he continued his dancing and music. He was the picture of joy and serenity, his curly brown hair bouncing around a pair of medium length goat horns that grew from his head. He had the legs of a goat, brown furred, completely with a cute little goat tail that could be seen wagging whenever he twirled around during his dance, he had hooves, much like you did.  The satyr finally ended his song and dance and approached you with a charming smile, he was a bit taller than you were with a slightly chubby build and tanned skin. He had a bit of stubble on his face and looked to be right around your age. You noticed he was not wearing anything to protect his modesty and his large cock and nuts swayed pendulously as he walked. This was not abnormal for denizens of this forest, so you did not think anything of it, though you did have to pry your eyes away as that would be a bit rude.  “Hello there little deer, I am Fairwic, I passed you earlier actually on my way back to my grove, what do you go by.”  “Oh, hi! I’m (Y/N). Nice to meet you! You play your flute so well, I was so enthralled.”  You actually were quite enthralled in a very literal sense, when he saw you earlier as he was walking through the forest searching for a suitable mate to help him satisfy his rut he happened upon you and watched for a while. Finally he determined that he absolutely had to have you and returned to his home to play his magical tune and lure you to him, but you did not need to know all that. When he caught you staring at his cock he had to stop himself from smirking, it just meant you were attracted to him and that only cemented his belief that he had to have you and would be able to satisfy you. “Would you like a tour of my grove (Y/N)? I just don’t get visitors this deep in the forest very often at all and I would love to be friends with you.” The satyr smiled at you innocently. How could anyone ever suggest they were bad?  “Sure, I am not expected back yet! And I love making new friends.” You returned his smile, you were just so happy and bubbly and your smile made his heart burn with sheer and desperate need. He simply had to have you.  You had such a lovely time with Fairwic, first he took you by the hand and showed you all his many flowers. He was growing so very many. Orchids, nasturtiums, sunflowers, violets, dandelions, pansies, tulips, lilies, bachelor buttons, and many more. Then he made you the most beautiful flower crown from blooms that he let you pick out. He had every color so you now had a flower crown made with your favorite color combo. You had felt guilty for having him use his flowers, but you stared in awe as he played his flute and the plants regrew their lost blooms before your very eyes. After that he insisted you ate with him, you wanted to get back to your people soon, but certainly a quick meal would not hurt and you did not want to be rude to your new friend!  Fairwic made you a tantalizing tray of sweet fruits, exotic cheeses, and tasty crackers. He played his flute and danced for you as you ate, it was really the perfect ending to a long day.  At least you had thought it would be the end, it was far from it.  “Thank you so much for the flower crown and food Fairwic, but it is starting to get late and I think my tribe will start to get worried soon. I really must be going, but maybe we can hangout again sometime soon?” As you set the tray down beside you he started playing and suddenly you felt oddly calm and relaxed, all intention to leave slowly fading from your mind. And after that you fell into an enchanted sleep. Fairwic took you in his arms and carried you effortlessly, his slightly chubby build hiding his great strength. He kissed your forehead gently and carefully carried you off deeper in the grove and into his hut that was built inside of a grass and vine covered hill.  The goat-man laid you on his bed and slept peacefully while spooning you. When he woke up the spell he had used was still lingering and he figured he had enough time to go fetch you some food and perhaps pick you some flowers since he knew your favorites. Fairwic calculated poorly though, because you woke up just as he was back at his garden, you woke up and remembered the events of last night. You were about to leave but fell asleep. You figured Fairwic must have let you sleep in his home to keep you safe. You really wanted to think him for being such a nice new friend, but you could not find him anywhere.  You decided that you would simply have to leave, your family and friends would be worried sick and you really had to go.  By the time that Fairwic returned you were just about to step out of his territory and back into the main forest. The goat dropped everything all the flowers and food he had so lovingly procured for you and ran out of the hut. He grabbed his pan flute and hoped that you were still within range, he would do anything to keep you with him, where you belonged.  Fairwic began playing a haunting and melancholic tune, one filled with the deepest sorrow, anguish, anxiety, and terror. The second the magic music hit your ears it was as good as over, the spell took hold of you.  As you walked into the forest you saw strange movements flicker in the shadows ahead and to the side of you, you heard the shrieking screams of terrors unknown to you, and the sky itself was consumed by void as a demonic form coalesced into existence in front of you. It outstretched its hand towards you and filled you with a primal fear that leeched into your very bones, making you shiver with cold.  You were going to die. You were sure of it.  But suddenly Fairwic came charging from the trees and got between you and the strange otherworldly evil that threatened you. He tossed a bolt of energy towards it that smacked and staggered it then immediately turned around and grabbed you, pulling you back into his personal grove.  “Are you okay (Y/N)? It seems like demonic spirits have taken hold of the forest! We won’t be able to leave, I am so sorry about your family, but at least we are safe here, my territory is magically blessed.”  You were completely unable to speak, tears running down your face. You could barely comprehend this new reality, your family, your friends, evil had invaded The Forest of Ethreyal, one of the greatest bastions of peace and tranquility lost… This couldn’t be happening!  You clung tightly to Fairwic, burying your face into his chest, he was now the only person you had left in the whole world. He ran his head gently through your hair and kissed the top of your head.  “Don’t worry, don’t worry (Y/N), my magic will always protect you.” Fairwic could not help but smirk, he would have to wait a while before using anymore magic to influence you, lest you grow suspicious, but now that he had all the time in the world with you, secluded in his paradise, he knew eventually he would get you to be his mate.

Sorry if this is a little foggy and poorly worded, but I have been sitting on this thought all day, after working on a scene from Mamoru Hosoda's Wolf Children, and might as well put it here. The scene in question is the one where little wolf-boy Ame, sweet child who loves stories and picture books and who struggles to come to terms with his hybrid identity, one day while out in the woods with his sister and his mother on a sort of wolf-training excursion suddenly starts crying. And the reason why is crying is that, in all the picture books, he keeps seeing the wolf depicted as the bad guy that ends up shooed away or killed. And because of such representations, now he wants to repress his wolf identity, that has always been a lively and funny, although hard to figure out, part of his life. He is terrified of being what he is because the narrow representations that he has access to tell him that the world does not like people like him. It's a powerful little moment in a beautiful movie, that always makes me tear up, and if you missed it I highly recommend you watch it. If you are not into anime movie and just curious of the scene, I found a clip on YouTube:

Anyway, this scene made my lonely braincel twitch, and I was thinking, now that we are approaching the end of this glorious - as far as the mediascape is concerned - year 2023, that many people underestimate the enormous power of fantasy narratives in expanding the borders of gender (and minority in general) representation. Having an author canonically establish that certain fixed categories do not apply to one or more characters for in-universe reasons takes away that nasty oblique excuse that some people use to deny and disparage diversity in media (where I live they usually sound like "they only made this character a person of color to please the woke liberalsTM even if the historical context doesn't allow it", or even, comically, "it is narratively implausible that this character is or shows to be queer but they were forced to do it by THE GAY LOBBY" - yes, this is an actual conspiracy theory loudly promoted by Italian journalists and politicians, and yes, I am personally deeply ashamed by it). Obviously, almost none of said people has the faintest actual interest in narrative aspects, but they still use the excuse to pollute the public discourse and attack minorities. And I am aware that there is a possible dark pitfall here: in the best possible world, we should not need to take the route of fantasy settings to have something that should never have been denied in the first place, but from a pragmatical standpoint it does work. Having authors saying "nope, sorry not sorry, they are wolf-children / angels and demons / weird vampires / anachronistic pirates in a fantasy context so your self-proclaimed laws of plausibility do not apply and you can shove them where the sun does not shine while we enjoy the show and put this beautiful, funny, delicate, deep and sad things on screen", is like having a cultural picklock which is also a cultural battering ram thrusting the representation-door open. Shows like Good Omens, Our Flag Means Death, What We Do in the Shadows (and their fandoms with their massive collective creative endeavour), by offering the symbolic shield of a fantasy setting can establish a safe space where 1. queer people (especially young people but not only) can finally recognize themselves and stop feeling like they are alone and don't have the words and images they need to describe themselves; 2. not queer people can get used to a larger set of possible identities and not only realise that 100% of said idenities are in fact - hold on to your butts - still people with thoughts and feelings and needs, but also, through the power of mimesis, acquire a deeper understanding of forms of life that they don't directly experience. Including, hopefully, understanding how similar we all are when it comes to us being ultimately a bunch of naked apes who walk on this spinning rock trying to be as little miserable as possible.

Again, sorry if this sounds clumsy and blunt, given how delicate and complex this subject is (one does not simply walk into Mordor talk about the lives and needs of other people like that), but I had this thought stuck in my shallow brain wrinkles and I wanted to try and put it into words.

Hello there! Many thanks for the follow, traveler~ I adore your traditional art! It's finely colored...makes me feel all nice and cozy! Have a lovely day 💙

And if I may ask one parting question about your dear Tav, Aelar Melianme; do you have any fun facts about his lore? Cheers!

!!!! Thank you so much!!!!!

(I had to redraft like this whole thing after digging deeper into Drow lore and learning that the reason I hate it so much is that the good stuff got buried to make Drizzt more special????? So it turns out my headcanons for them are closer to some of the established lore haha. Anyway.)

Aelar is a Moon Circle Druid who grew up in the Underdark as a Lolth-sworn drow. I hate the way Drow lore was originally presented to me as being super misogynistic and racist (shocking for D&D, I know) but after learning about Eilistraee I actually like the pre-Drizzt lore more than I expected. Personally, I see the Lolth-sworn Drow as being like, run by radfems and is only seeming like a matriarchy to outsiders, when in reality it’s still super gender-essentialist and transphobic.

Aelar grew up in Menzoberranzan but was always ostracized growing up in Lolth's cult. He was pretty sheltered and cut off from the outside world, so he could never really put into words why he felt so distant from everyone around him. His family forced him into an engagement he didn't want when he was in his 90s, and he finally had enough and ran away.

At first, he ran as far as he could without paying heed to where he was going. He just wanted to get away as fast as possible. When he stumbled across an exit to the overworld, he only took it to shake off his pursuers. He was struck by how beautiful the stars were as he stepped out of the cave that first night. His whole life he had been told that the surface was a disgusting place, so overbearingly bright that no drow would ever have a reason to visit, but instead he was greeted by the gentle cascade of starlight on a cloudless night. He was so entranced by their light that he didn’t notice the smiling drow woman observing him silently from the shadows.

After that, he spent a few years wandering south along the Sword Coast. He preferred keeping his own company, for the most part. The discrimination he faced from Faerunians certainly didn't help but there was something...else, nagging in the back of his mind. Besides, owls made better conversation mates anyway.

His conversations with the bees were really life-altering, though. Drow society is very binaristic and heteronormative, and hearing about the queen/worker/drone system was eye-opening for Aelar. At first, he was just fascinated by it all. Something he felt the first few times he encountered other trans people. But it took him a few decades to realize why he was so intrigued by all of this stuff : ). 

Eventually, he made his way into Waterdeep. The loneliness of the wilds had been getting to him, and try as he might, he could never fully connect with his animal companions. It didn’t help that they lived such short lives, even compared to humans. He worked in Undercliff for a while as a horse groom for the Amcarthras, but he grew sick seeing the foals he raised being sold off to the City Guard to be abused. He moved into the city proper and has been tending some shithole bar while gradually saving up for surgery for the last 60 years or so.

He’s never realized it, but Eilistraee has been silently guiding him since he left the Underdark. He ran across some of her worshippers in Waterdeep, but never gave them too much thought. Even though it’s been a century and a half, he still hasn’t really unpacked everything he internalized from his childhood, and in his mind followers of Eilistraee are still something really taboo. Not necessarily that he hates them, more that it was just never really discussed openly and he feels discomfort the few times he’s been approached by worshippers on the streets. He’s only now starting to notice her presence in his life over the course of the game, and I like to think that his post-game adventures involve her : )

(I have so many more thoughts about Eilistraee and him and Astarion, who I gave the Elistraee sword too, but that’s something I’d like to explore more in a comic or a fic than this post ; ) )

okay so silverrusso but a triple threat combo of: irish mafia + a/b/o + forced marriage

terry is the Alpha Boss of the irish mafia, and comes across Daniel one day, an Omega struggling student facing all the prejudices omegas face, but worse since he’s dirt poor, works multiple jobs to pay for school/hospital expenses, and lives with his sick mom. terry falls for him immediately/scentbonds and forces/coerces daniel to be his mate/marry him with the promise of helping daniels sick mother as long as daniel will be his. or else terry will block any access his mother has to treatment because no one cares about omegas in the Society.

daniel has no choice and marries him despite despising and being afraid of him. but deep down terry secretly, desperately hopes that daniel will love him one day. meanwhile daniel adjusts to living with a man he barely knows, and being the Boss’s mate.

Sorry for the super late reply. Work’s been busy these last few months, and I sat on this one for awhile - trying to think of a response and I’m not sure if this is what you’re looking for, but here goes.

Sits down, straightens papers, look you just can’t come in here, unannounced , with all these tropes ….

So first question / does Daniel actually despise him OR does he hate what Terry represents.

Does he fear what he will become with Terry. Or is it secretly something he wants / to be a spoiled housewife, providing heirs for his powerful Alpha - is he looking for someone to put him in his place?

Does he resent how easy Terry’s life is compared to him just because of the circumstances of their birth / both in the gender and the wealth/power.

I don’t know, these questions are above my pay grade so let’s get down to the nasty.

Let’s imagine though that Terry mated him, and bred him as soon as they were married and now maybe almost two decades have passed. Daniel was 18 after all, when Terry had claimed him.

Sam and Tory - their twins and first borns, are turning 18 soon, and preparing to go off to college, and Robby, their second born and an Irish twin to Sam and Tory won’t be far behind. He appeared in the world a mere ten months after Sam and Tory.

Daniel has been exhibiting strange behaviours every since their graduation, and helping them select colleges to apply to. They will, of course, be accepted into which every one they choose.

Terry pulls their doctor aside to explain his husband’s symptoms.

Building a nest, and the increased sex drive. Don’t get him wrong they have healthy sex life - but lately Daniel can’t seem to get enough - it’s almost like when they were first mated.

Which, is why it didn’t take long for them, in the beginning when Terry was cementing his bond and hold on the omega, to add Demetri and Eli to their growing brood. Truth is, how easily it took every time, spoke to their comparability, even if it had taken a bit of time for the love aspect to come for Daniel.

Terry had gotten him pregnant as soon as possible to help this along; while he waited for the love to happen. He knew being with child would cause the omega to want to be around the alpha more, as pregnant omegas were wont to do. It also ensured that Daniel was permanently tied him, which would just wear down his stubborn mate anyway.

Truth is, it was what Daniel was made for - to be made fat. He took to pregnancy so well, so what else was Terry supposed to do, but constantly make sure he was good and breed. Baby on his hip as another grew inside him. He was unbearable beautiful like that, and Terry had considered him the prettiest thing he had every laid eyes on.

His mate, more often than not was barefoot and pregnant, dependant on Terry, just how he liked it. Just how Daniel eventually came to like it as well. Well, after the first few he spread his legs easier after all. But all that proved was they a the alpha did in fact know best, even if the little omega had been stubborn and put up a meager fight in the beginning.

His plans for school quickly falling to the side as he focused his energy on their family, his true passion. Terry had simply helped him realize that about himself / his true calling.

But, it’s not those current behaviours either. It’s like he only cares about Terry being inside him.

One of his favourite things is when Terry eats him out, to come by Terry’s mouth, which also happens to be one of Terry’s favourite way for Daniel to come. To feel him fall apart like that, maybe with a few fingers added but, the last few times, Daniel had only lasted a few seconds before begging for Terry to just, “get inside me.”

More than a few times he’s only gotten his pants down enough to get his cock out and into the younger man, his own pants pulled down enough so Terry could get into him.

And they have stamina, but sometimes it only took a few thrusts before Daniel’s already tight body was clamping down, forcing the orgasm out of Terry, practically milking the come out of him, deep inside. Daniel sighing deeply, a bone deep satisfaction evident in the contented noises he made as Terry filled him.

And yesterday morning Terry had woken up to Daniel’s mouth on him, which as soon as he was coherent, turned into Daniel’s weight on him as he held Terry’s cock in his hand, sank down onto the older man’s spilt slick length.

Not that Terry was complaining - it was a good way to wake up.

But Terry has missed days unable to go into work - his husband was so demanding. And the days he did, Daniel more often than not, would visit Terry, under the guise of bringing lunch etc although it always ended up with him bent over Terry’s desk as he fucked him. Which once again, not complaining.

The doctor’s explanation takes Terry by surprise although, looking back, it really shouldn’t have.

“His body is doing everything it can to ensure conception even if he doesn’t realize his body knows and wants it.”

“It’s not uncommon, especially in omegas still of breeding age, when their children start to leave, especially when it’s the first one and Sam is the eldest.”

“You had mated him right away - as soon as he had turned 18, correct,” the doctor affirms, Terry nodding.

“Nothing to be concerned about and nothing you do can really. If the omega wants it bad enough the body will ensure the birth control fails. Considering his age, he’s still quite young for breeding, many good years left, and the fertility shouldn’t be an issue given fact that you’re never had trouble conceiving.”

This is true he spent the first few years of their marriage heavy with child

The only real gap had been Anthony, who had been a surprise.

“So all I can tell you is, if you’re done with kids I suggest a condom.”

Terry snorts - fat chance - he’s never worn a condom while taking his omega and he’s not about to start.

He could pull out, but If that’s what his husband wants, for Terry to put another life inside him, even if he doesn’t realize it yet, then that is what Terry will give him. Just like the first time. It’s been awhile since Terry had made him fat, and he realizes himself, how much he misses it, so it will be sooner rather than later.

Later that night:

Daniel perched in his lap, leaning against his chest, as he grinds his hips back against the bulge in his husband’s pants.

A messy blowjob to get him fully hard only moments later.

Terry smirks - it’s so much more delicious now that he knows that Daniel is doing this just to have Terry’s seed inside him - to have Terry put another child in him - and that it’s subconscious - instinctual on a deeper level.

He does nothing - continues smoking his cigar - as Daniel crawls back into his lap, moving his own underwear to the side, taking his husband’s cock in hand, rubbing it up and down through his slick before pushing the head inside.

It’s not frantic, languid, like they have all the time in the world. Terry had fucked him as soon as they got home anyway so he’s sure that took the edge off.

Hips undulating smoothly, slow like syrup, the velvet grip of Daniel’s body calling him with it’s siren’s song.

A though pops in to his head.

He tries to lift Daniel off his cock, just a few inches leaving him, he wants to see….

Hands dig into his chest and he clenched down, hard, like he can keep Terry inside if he just squeezes hard enough.

The head pops free and,

“Please ….. I need it …..”

“Yeah …. You do, don’t you? He lays hand on the side of his face, Daniel whimpers when he makes no move to put his cock back inside.

“Need it inside you filling you.”

“Yes please.”

“Get my cum nice and deep where It belongs?!”

He places a large hand on his lower belly, and still, he marvels at much of his husband’s belly it takes up.

“Alright, put it back in then.”

Not needing to be told twice, already reaching back to steady it to sink back down.

Terry plays with his chest, the softness still there after so many good breedings, his body forever changed because of Terry.

God, he can’t wait for him to start showing, for his chest to fill and swell as the baby grows inside him.

Maybe even a few more after this.

And then.

“Come in me please …. want a baby inside me.”

Yeah, there would definitely be more after this.

i dont know how to explain how OUT THERE I want to be this pride month.

So let's visiblize all those who don't get the rep, and wanna be loud and proud!

Calling all the: ASEXUALS, NON-BINARY PEEPS, AROMATICS, AGENDER PEEPS, TRANS PPL, PANSEXUALS AND PANFOMANTICS, POLYAMOROUS FOLKS, DEMIROMANTICS AND DEMISEXUALS, THOSE QUESTIONING, AND THOSE WHO DONT WANNA STICK ON A LABEL. We see you. You are valid, and deserve just as much show as the more well known sexualities.

if u want this is the full message bb. The rest are specific affirmations. v

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

ASEXUALS:

you don't owe anyone SHIT. You are perfect just the way the universe made you. Don't listen to anyone telling you you are a child, or are confused. You are so bright and loveable. whether you're out or not, proud or ashamed, I want you to know that you do not need fixing. And the hardest bit is acceptance. But the best bit is simply being you <3

NON-BINARY PEEPS:

"You were not made to conform" Marina is 100% RIGHT. you are the badasses of our world. And the very binary that our society had made to exist eludes you. I know it's hard. Running from who you are, and people attacking you just for being you. And I say, FORGET THAT. You are a person, one that deserves to be treated with love, and RESPECT. go out there and be your badass self. Conformity was shite anyways <3

AROMANTICS:

You are not broken. Love is yours. And you are a being that exudes brightness. You deserve a space where you are not pressured to make your love romantic. IT IS YOURS. So give it to yourself, your friends, family. I am sorry our society has been built on pillars that make everyone question you. And maybe even make you feel like you have to hate love or else everyone will assume you like it. But I say fuck that! You get to pick. YOU. SO GO LOOK IN THAT MIRROR, AND SAY "I love myself just as I am, and I am the wielder of my own sword." even our own community excludes you a lot. I am sorry. You have your space here because you made it, AND YOU DESERVE IT <3

AGENDER PEEPS:

It is okay to not be one of the predicted genders in this world. And I KNOW you know that. Take this as my aggressive positivity that you deserve more recognition. WE NEED YOUR INPUT, thank you for being made just the way you were meant to be made, and if people can't see that you are a wonderful individual who doesn't need their validation to feel good about themselves in their own body it's THEIR loss. Your parts don't define you, and you are allowed to take up space.

TRANS FOLKS:

HERE'S YOUR GENDER ARFIRMATION! you were made exactly as the universe intended you to be. They gave you an existence different from lots of other people don't face because they wanted you to live in a different way than cis people do. But that does not mean even for a second you were a mistake. I know right now a lot of hate is being thrown at you. people saying you are too young to know, or too old. You do NOT deserve it. You are the loveliest human being I have ever had the pleasure to know. Please know you are loved, and that your Identity does not need to be tucked away. Know that we need you here. YOU HAVE A PLACE IN OUR COMMUNITY, And we will stand with you as you face backlash. We will hold your hand and remind you, "You are powerful, and extremely loved by us and yourself." GO FLIP OFF THEM UNCULTUTED ASSHOLES AND LOVE YOURSELF <3

PANSEXUALS & PANROMANTICS:

You can love more than one gender. You are the very embodiment of love! You wave your hands in the sky and bask in the beautiful light that you created. YOU ARE NOT A CHEATER, OR A PLAYER. AND YOU ARE NOT BISEXUAL. The panphobia in this community is strong, and I am sorry you ever have to face it. You are perfect and loveable just the way you are. You see people's very souls. And you are a magical being that deserves to go in that sun and Scream "I KNOW WHO I AM AND IM AMAZING"

POLYAMOROUS FOLKS:

Why are you controversial. Fuck them, it is absolutely okay to be poly. Monogamous relationships have been expected for years. But that expectation is based on a feeling you don't have. I am sorry you have to hide, for fear of scaring other people away. know that you deserve the love you have. AND YOU DESERVE THE LOVE YOU WANT. Please don't listen to them. Actually. Just go tell them to fuck off <3

DEMIROMANTIC AND DEMISEXUAL PPL:

Hi, you are not picky, or a bitch. your way of loving is perfectly made. And you need to accept it on the level it is given. You are so beautiful and deserve your love. I know it's hard, to have people call you "straight passing" and "not real" YOU DONT NEED THEM. AND YOU DONT NEED THEIR CRAP! Just flick your hand around and give em' the middle finger. If you don't have a partner that's perfectly okay. And specifically for the demisexual people–You do not owe ANYONE sex. I know that you are a bad bitch so go realize it mkay? <3

UNLABELED:

Hi. You don't need a label on your shit so that people respect you. In this world we are pressured to be, "the pretty one" the "bisexual one" but life is a spectrum, and you will be accepted into our community regardless of whether or not you label yourself. I know lots of people say you are "QUEER BAITING" which makes me laugh at their sheer fucking stupidity. people cannot "bait" you. And i want you to know that you are welcome as an lgbtqia+ person whether you label or not. Be the spectrum you are so you can be true to yourself babe <3

QUESTIONING:

Hey. I know it can be hard to come to terms with your own identity sometimes. And I'm here to tell you to be open minded with yourself. You deserve a space a space in our community if you wish to take it. And you deserve to be able to question in peace. If you decide you are one of us that's okay, and if you decide you're not, we will STILL welcome you as an ally. I love you okay, so be patient with yourself and know no matter what, YOU ARE LOVED <3

if you want to personally add something, or an encouraging message please do!

And please rb so that this reaches people who might need to hear it this pride month.

Villain - chapter 1 english fan translation

Hello, I've translated chapter 1 of the new manga for Teniwoha's song, Villain. This is just a text translation, but the chapter is free to read in its entirety here. Also a warning just in case: this manga may be uncomfortable to read due to how the trans themes are written. I may speak a bit more about this later in another post, but for now I would just like to discourage harsh judgements based just on this chapter. Thank you for reading.

Btw the characters names are Orio Azuru (blue hair) and Midou Renri (blonde hair)

"'I'm sure we'll freak them out just by holding hands.' A boy who doesn't understand his own gender identity, Orio Azuru has fallen in love with the freeest "man" in town, Midou Renri, at least that's how it should've been." -- site description

Orio *narrating*: I'm going to meet him again today. There were no promises made, there's every chance he won't still be there. But still...

A sign that says NO TRESPASSING

Orio: Renri

Orio: Renri....Reeeenri, I'm here.

Orio: OOF *gets the shit smacked out of them*

Renri: Don't 'I'm here' me, asshole. I already told you not to come around here anymore, are you stupid or something? Orio Azuru?

Orio: Wow, you're in a bad mood today! Something happen?

Renri: Do I have to beat it into you again til you remember?

Orio: Oh yeah, I brought you Big Burger as a present!

Orio: Even with you being you, this abandoned building isn't really where you live, right? Haven't you just taken it for yourself since the utilities still work sometimes?

Renri: I FOUND THIS PLACE SO IT'S MINE TIL THEY STOP.

Orio: Well that's why I thought I'd bring you a little something!

Renri: I already told you I don't need shit like this, if you're trying to farm gratitude you're out of luck.

Orio: Aren't you eating right up, though....?

Renri: What the hell is your goal here?

Orio: Goal? No, it's nothing like that.

Orio: Y'know how when you wanna talk with your friends so you walk across the classroom to see them? It's the same thing.

Renri: ....seriously? Look, I dunno much about school but it seems like you just have way too much time on your hands.

Both: Oh

Renri: ROCK PAPER SCISSORS GO- ACK

Orio: Nice try!

Orio: Anyways, yeah. Hanging out with you is fun. Is that so wrong?

Renri: OF COURSE IT IS, UNLIKE YOU I DON'T HAVE ALL THE TIME IN THE WORLD FOR THIS.

Orio: Oh, that so!? Even though you're always asleep on that sofa no matter when I show up?

Renri: I WILL FUCKING KILL YOU.

Orio *narrating*: I like him.

Orio *narrating*: That day, I didn't feel like going straight home. But I didn't have anywhere else I'd rather be either. So I ended up turning some unfamiliar corners in my search for a place I could be alone.

Orio *narrating*: It didn't hit me right away what that colorful substance on the ground was. I was totally alone, there wouldn't be help coming. There could be demons or maybe even snakes back there. But I just wanted a distraction, so I figured anything would do.

Orio *narrating*: Those were my thoughts when I opened the door to see a beast most horrible, most fearsome and beautiful.

Orio *narrating*: I'm glad I came here (You shouldn't have come here)

Renri: ----Hellooo? Orio Azuru?

Renri: If you're just gonna sit there and space out then go home already. I wanna take a shower.

Orio: Sorry, sorry! Then how about I tell you about something interesting that happened at school today!

Renri: No I wanted you to leave.

Orio: Ah come on, you don't have to pay attention, think of it like listening to the radio.

Orio *narrating*: He kicked me in the head the moment we met, but it doesn't seem like he actually hates talking to me. He's actually got a much more calm personality than you'd expect, and the more I've bothered him, I've been able to get to know him, little by little.

Orio *narrating*: Like how he's a dropout with no parents, how he's got relatives he doesn't want to go home to so he's repurposed this abandoned apartment, how he made a lot of enemies teasing the local delinquent groups.

Orio *narrating*: How he was injured when we met, and how he got whoever did it back three times over later.

Orio *narrating*: He'd be so cool if he could just be quiet, but he ruins it with that violent and immature nature of his. Even so...

Renri: So, that injury. You get it in a fight?

Orio: No way.

Renri: Ah, ok.

Orio *narrating*: He's also way sharper than you'd expect. He always seems to know what lines not to cross to keep things comfortable. Well...maybe he just doesn't care that much, but-

Orio: If you're done, I'll collect the trash.

Renri: Hey wait, I'm not done yet.

*the flashback starts here*

Classmate: You're kinda weird, huh.

Classmate: If you're joking, it's not funny. So knock it off.

Classmate: What are you even saying, people are gonna think you're gross.

Orio: Sorry, I was joking.

Orio: I'll turn my everything into a joke. So please don't make me out to be the villain.

Orio: What exactly....am I?

*the flashback ends here*

Orio: Ah....

Orio: ....sorry. My hand slipp-

Renri: You didn't get a concussion when you got hit, right? It'd be trouble if you collapsed on the way home.

Orio: Huh, what? Why are you scarier when you're trying to be nice to me!?

Renri: HUH??

Orio: Just kidding!

Orio: ....just kidding.

Orio *narrating*: 'Go home for today,' he said. Makes it sound like there’ll be a tomorrow.

Orio *narrating*: There were no promises made, there's every chance I'll open that door and he'll be gone. When that happens, I guess I'll stop coming here.

Orio *narrating*: Even though thinking that always makes me scared to open the door, for some reason, you're always there.

Orio *narrating*: I do understand. That I can't ask for more than right now. But still, I'll definitely go see him tomorrow too.

Orio *narrating*: I love him. And I'm ok with just that.

Orio: I stayed for a long time today, what time is it? Huh? No way, I left my phone?

Orio: Renri's in the shower? I guess there's no need to knock since we're both guys so.....

Orio *narrating*: I love him. But there was never a "him."

I N T R O D U C I N G . . .

a m a r a s i l v e r h o r n .

GENERAL…

name : amara silverhorn. meaning : amara “everlasting” and "to love". nickname : mara, mar. age : thirty-six. birthdate : may 6th. zodiac: taurus sun, aries rising, taurus moon. gender identity : cisgender woman , she / her. orientation : lesbian. place of birth : district six. current residence : district six (+ the 75th arena, oops). occupation : tribute. blacksmith and manages a factory in district six.

HISTORY…

tw: drug abuse, addiction, classism. 

Amara Silverhorn is proof that not everyone has their destiny written in the stars; some of us just have bad luck.

Unlucky – she was born to a burning house. Her mother was a victim of the morphling abuse scene that the higher ups had surreptitiously installed all across the district. Her father was a victim of having a heart too big for his body. He fell in love when they were young and, much to his parents' dismay, she was pregnant before they could arrange a marriage. But they would never arrange a marriage anyway – her mother was only an addict, lost to the streets, while her father had a good name to carry.

The Silverhorns, the only last name Amara still carries, her mother's identity lost somewhere in her history. She was raised by her father and her paternal grandparents, often told the story about how they tried to help the poor young woman who gave her life, but they just couldn't. Amara doesn't believe that, half of the time.

Lucky – they lived a good life. She slept in a comfortable bed and had a house in the best neighborhood of her district. The Silverhorns were old money; not quite royalty within their lands, but well enough off that they could afford a comfortable living in Panem, which is more than most could say. She grew up proper and polite, for some time.

Unlucky – she became the black sheep. Her father remarried, and then she was the oldest of several siblings, and the bastard. This is no evil stepmother story, but Amara always had an inkling that she would always be the odd one out. This was clear when puberty hit her and she started asking questions, too many questions. Her family, their last name heavy with Capitol support, didn't appreciate all the questioning.

She was indoctrinating her younger siblings, her father and stepmom would yell at her. She had ideas that were far greater and better than sitting idly by and clapping as the Games went on. Every year during the reaping they would dress up in their best clothes, and wait with the crowd, only to hear some poorer kid get called. Their Silverhorn names each only once in the bowl, safely hidden in the sea of others. Her family celebrated the Games proudly every year, and hoped for the chance to win a lottery ticket.

Why should they be happy about the Games, when it was their people dying? Her family would insist there was a difference between us and them, but that never made much sense to Amara. They were all in the same boiling pot. When the lights were off in their house, and all of her siblings huddled around her, she told them the truth. All the stories she could remember, all she had ever heard on the outside, about the Games, the families who lost their kids, the districts destroyed, oppressed. Like telling ghost stories around a campfire.

Lucky – she falls in love with the most beautiful, incredible, perfect woman in the world. Yazmin brings light to her life in a way that Amara never expected to feel. It's a breath of fresh air, to be able to love like this. They elope, and move in together, and get a cat, and things feel so much easier now.

Amara had dreams of being a teacher, someday, but those fall through pretty quickly when she knows she could never teach the current curriculum with a straight face. It's not worth it, digging herself into a government she despises. She has no interest in making any waves. So she follows after her family's footsteps and works as the head of one of the manufacturers of transportation from their district. Nepotism gets her pretty far. She likes dabbling in blacksmith work.

In her free time, she worked with nonprofits – and mostly underground – organizations who helped part of the population addicted to morphling. She gave them her time and she cared for her people, in the only way she knew how. Silently, but with her whole self.

Unlucky – her name is plucked from a bowl. The air feels hot around her. Her wife's hand slips from hers as she's taken up to a stage. This is not supposed to happen – this does not happen to people like her. She's done everything right, she's played by their awful rules even when she didn't want to. She has a name and a hundred years of Capitol support under its belt, she's never spread her distaste very far, she's been a faithful servant until now. Her father is in the crowd, watching with mirrored horror in his eyes. This does not happen to them.

Unlucky – it has happened to her.

Unlucky – she's going to die.

Once you really start to realize the absolute artificiality of them, it becomes quite difficult to actually comprehend the pervasiveness of things like white supremacy, patriarchy, imperialism, and capitalism.

I see a lot of posts about the concept of gender, especially about neopronouns being just as valid as socially accepted pronouns. Which they are. Which is something that someone can't just stop recognizing once they understand it. It's the same with whiteness. One can't simply return to ignorance once they understand the baselessness of a thing. You'd have to erase your memory.

So it becomes frustrating. It's frustrating to watch others uncritically accept the status quo when YOU KNOW the status quo is all made up, and on top of that actually quite harmful. It becomes EXTRA frustrating to take the next step. To become un-ignorant about how part of the status quo is the acceptance of the status quo.

Its pretty meta. You have to realize that realizing is nonstandard, which is quite rare itself, but that's not usually the first step people take into radicalism. First, we see that something is harmful. Then we see that it's made up. THEN we see that we weren't ever supposed to see in the first place.

So when you start to see, it's fucking everywhere. It's in clothing, jobs, food, entertainment, language, money, drugs, politics, family, friendships, labor, community, hygiene, law, art, education, housing, healthcare, exercise, pet care, nature, science, business, and so on and so forth. You see the way that employers favor white, magazines favor white, landlords favor white, fucking dentists favor white. You see this because once upon a time you realized white is arbitrary. From then on you sought a basis, but all you could find were baseless standards. AND THEY ARE EVERYWHERE.

So. It's really difficult, almost painful, to see the world operating solely on a set of standards that have no basis. To see that the beholder with, apparently, an eye for beauty can't see past it's own programming. And to know that it's only the tip of the proverbial iceberg. You may have studied film, and recognized the signs of white supremacy in Hollywood, but you have not studied machining and therefore can't detail the ways in which capitalist, imperialist, white supremacist, patriarchal tendrils have wiggled their way into the process of creation via machinery. But you know they have. You just don't know how.

Anyway. I think about this a lot. About how harmful stereotypes aren't just a shallow interpretation of why someone is bullying you. They are literally how our society operates. It can be quite overwhelming and it's good to write it out, I think. Also I live in the US so this post is obviously biased towards a specific society. Which is a whole other thing I could go on about. But I should stop here.