•K∅-FI https://ko-fi.com/hey_its_cweepy •She/her •22 years old •Multi-fandom •Traditional artist •Absolutely NOT normal about anything •Inbox open if you want to know about my gremlins or ask any questions
I hope you’ve been doing well!! We’ve missed you very much and I’m here with my folder again, this time to request more of your fairy boy- perhaps something wedding themed? I’d love to see my favorite narcissist get pampered even more (I say narcissist with all the love in my heart. He’s the reason I found your blog!!)
“A Crown of Living Blossoms”
Tags: Male Fairy x GN Reader | Fairy Wedding | Overworking Husband | Dressing You Up | Floral Adornments | Proud Groom | Tiny Husband Energy & Nature's Finest Attire.
AN BLUE welcome back always nice to eat your requests mwuah. Don't you just love imagining fae weddings, I focused more on the prep rather than the wedding itself, wanted to picture him like a busy bee before just melting at the sight of his lover.
.
..
A fairy wedding was nothing like a human one. There were no stone chapels, no polished pews, no rows of carefully folded chairs.
Instead, the forest itself had decided to host. Branches arched overhead until they wove together into a living cathedral, sunlight spilling through emerald leaves in ribbons of gold. Flowers climbed every trunk, every vine, blooming all at once as if they, too, had received an invitation.
The forest was dressing for the occasion, Sylvian insisted it was only proper. "It would be embarrassing if the woodland looked underprepared," he'd said with a dismissive flick of his hand. "Thankfully, it has excellent taste."
Naturally, he had been impossible all morning. You'd caught glimpses of him only in flashes of violet and orchid-pink as he darted through the trees.
"No, no, higher!" A swarm of tiny fairies scrambled to adjust a garland.
"The lilies belong near the spring, not beside the elder roots! Honestly, has no one studied composition?" He zipped away before anyone could answer.
Another fairy called after him in what could only be understood to you as the sound of bells and soft jingles.
"My outfit is already perfect!" He answered.
The sound continued with a huff and a cute pout from the fairy.
"...That is beside the point."
The entire grove buzzed with affectionate laughter, everyone knew their fellow flower fae. He was fussy, theatrical. He had rearranged the same cluster of flowers four times because the pink was "arguing with the moss."
But no one complained, at least not today, not when the brightest fairy in the forest looked happier than the dawn itself.
Meanwhile...
You had been quietly stolen away. "Oh, goodness..." Gentle hands guided you to a seat carved from the roots of an ancient oak. A circle of fairy attendants surrounded you, their wings humming excitedly. Again with harmonies of tunes and chimes, but being closer, you could actually make out a few words between the music.
"They're taller than I imagined."
"They're beautiful."
"Look how careful they sit!"
You smiled despite yourself. "I can hear you." A chorus of embarrassed giggles answered.
Unlike human tailors, fairy attendants didn't sew, they grew. One little fairy tucked a flowering vine around your shoulders, the buds opened immediately. Another combed their fingers through your hair, and wherever they touched, tiny blossoms unfurled. Not woven into your hair, it was almost as if they were growing from it.
Soft ferns curled behind your ears, jasmine threaded itself through loose strands, orchid petals nestled among fresh greenery, each bloom opening as though greeting an old friend.
A third fairy stepped back and gasped.
"What?" you asked, suddenly surprised. She clasped both hands over her heart, her wings slowing down and letting her fall down slowly. The others sighed dreamily aswell, the reaction making it hard to hold in a giggle from you as the blossoms framed around your face.
None of them noticed the tiny figure hovering outside the woven curtain of vines. He hadn't meant to peek, truly. He'd only wanted to check whether everything was proceeding according to his exceptionally high standards.
Just one glance, that was all. Instead... he forgot how to fly. His wings continued beating on instinct, but every thought simply... stopped.
You sat surrounded by living flowers, sunlight filtered through leaves, scattering soft patterns across your skin. Your clothes didn't look embroidered, they almost bloomed. Fresh ivy traced gentle lines along the fabric, white blossoms opening with every breath you took.
You looked... "...Oh." It was all he managed. One of the attendants noticed him first, she clapped a hand over her mouth. 'The groom's spying!'
Immediately, every fairy dissolved into delighted giggles. "I was not spying," Sylvian replied automatically, he hadn't looked away once. "I was..." His voice faltered, "...conducting quality assurance."
Another burst of laughter. 'So that's why you're blushing?'
"I am radiant by nature." The attendants exchanged knowing looks, then one of them smiled warmly, motioning him to come closer.
He floated forward almost absentmindedly, you turned at the sound of wings, "There you are." The smile you gave him was small but warm as ever, Sylvian landed on your shoulder without a word, he reached up with both tiny hands and adjusted a single orchid bloom near your temple. Not because it needed fixing, it was because he wanted an excuse to touch you.
"...Perfect." His voice came out much quieter than he'd intended. "You've been running around all morning." You chuckled. "Everything finished?" He looked utterly offended. "Of course...mostly. The flower arch is slightly off."
"It can wait."
"Can it?" You reached up, cupping him carefully in your hand. "So can you." His wings gave one helpless flutter.
"I..." He looked back toward the bustling grove, fairies hanging lanterns, birds weaving ribbons, blossoms opening one by one. Then back to you. "...Perhaps."
You smiled, "My Sylvian." He made the tiniest, most indignant noise, face turning the exact shade of the orchids decorating your clothes. He lifted his chin with practiced elegance. "I selected someone extraordinarily beautiful to marry."
His tiny hand found your finger, curling around it. "They'll spend the next hundred years trying to imitate this wedding."
"And if they do?"
He grinned, all bright confidence and impossible charm returning in full. "They'll fail." He leaned forward, pressing a feather-light kiss against your knuckle. "Because they'll never have you."
And for all his vanity—for all the admiring mirrors, the endless fussing over flowers, the dramatic critiques and impeccable standards—everyone present knew the truth.
Sylvian had always believed he was the most beautiful thing in the forest, until the day he met you.
Now, every beautiful thing he found became something he wanted to place gently at your feet, hoping the forest itself might reflect even a fraction of the wonder he saw whenever he looked at his beloved.
Tags: Male Moth Prince x GN Reader | Angst w Comfort | Established Relationship | Overworking | Not Feeling Enough | Gentle Husband | Emotional Reassurance | Palace Life | Married Life | Soft Touches & Wing Cuddles
AN OK so we're finally done yaaaaay semesters over. I had so much on my plate so this is kinda based on that my B. Not feeling the best rn, you know how life is but we can get back to writing now.
.
..
The kitchens had already thanked you twice. The gardeners insisted they no longer needed another pair of hands. Even the palace librarians, who usually welcomed anyone willing to dust shelves and sort scrolls, had gently urged you toward the door with promises that they truly had everything under control.
You smiled anyway, "Just let me finish this one thing." It had become such an easy phrase to say that you hardly noticed it anymore.
The basket balanced comfortably against your hip as you crossed another corridor, freshly folded linens stacked almost to your chin. One of the maids had only mentioned, in passing, that she was running behind after a visiting delegation requested additional rooms. You'd offered before she'd even finished explaining.
It wasn't difficult work, a little here a little there. Another errand, another task, another chance to be useful.
Another chance to prove—
"...There you are." You looked up, snapping out of your trance.
Opal stood at the far end of the corridor, sunlight spilling through the tall windows behind him until the edges of his wings seemed almost translucent. He smiled the moment your eyes met, though it softened almost immediately when he noticed the basket in your arms. "I've been looking for you."
You shifted the linens a little higher. "Have you? Sorry, I was helping in the east wing."
"I know." His answer came so simply that it caught you off guard. "I asked after you. They told me you'd been with the gardeners this morning."
"Mhm."
"And before that... the kitchens."
"They were short-handed."
"And yesterday, the archives."
You laughed quietly, hoping the conversation would drift elsewhere. "I've been busy."
"So I've noticed." His voice wasn't accusing. If anything, it sounded... wistful.
He crossed the remaining distance between you, slow enough that you could have walked away if you'd wanted to. Instead, he stopped within arm's reach, looking at you with that familiar warmth that always made it difficult to hide anything from him. "I missed breakfast with you."
A flicker of guilt crossed your face before you could stop it. "I know. I'm sorry."
"I missed our walk through the gardens."
"I was helping prune the moonvines."
"I know."
"And tea."
"I know." Each answer was softer than the last, his antennae dipped ever so slightly. "I've missed my spouse."
You looked away, "I've just... had things to do."
His gaze lingered on you for another quiet moment before he reached out, not for the basket, but for your free hand.
Your fingers were colder than he expected, his thumb brushed absently across your knuckles. "You've been working since dawn."
"I'm alright."
"You said that yesterday."
"I meant it."
"And the day before?"
You smiled again, only it didn't quite reach your eyes. "I should deliver these before they wrinkle." You made to step around him, he moved with you. Not with the intention to block your path, he only simply stayed close. "Would you keep me company for a little while afterward?"
"I'll try."
"Don't stay on your feet too long." You nodded.
"I won't."
.
By the time evening settled over the palace, you'd forgotten you'd made him that promise. There had been another delivery, then someone needed help carrying crates into storage. One of the younger attendants couldn't reach the lantern hooks, so you'd climbed the ladder yourself.
The work wasn't difficult, it simply... never seemed to end.
You rubbed absently at your shoulder as you made your way toward the western gallery, unaware that someone had been watching you for the better part of an hour.
Opal found you replacing a vase that one of the servants had accidentally chipped. You hadn't even noticed him arrive until warm hands gently closed around your wrists.
You looked up, he held a worried expression. "Love." The endearment came so softly that your heart sank before he spoke another word. "When was the last time you sat down?"
"I..." You searched your memory. "I don't know." You laughed weakly. "I suppose I lost track."
The corridor had emptied long ago, the bustle of the palace settling into the calm hum of evening. Somewhere outside, night insects had begun to sing.
Opal looked down at your hands still resting between his own. Your fingertips were rougher than they had been a month ago. A tiny scrape crossed one knuckle, another decorated your palm. His brow pinched. "...You're wearing yourself out."
"I'm just helping, I need to." His eyes lifted back to yours. "...Need to?"
The words escaped before you could catch them. "If I don't... then what good am I here?" Silence followed soon after that, you wished immediately that you could take the sentence back. Opal's hold became gentler. "What do you mean?"
You looked stubbornly at your joined hands. "I mean..." You laughed once, suddenly embarrassed. "You have wings that can shelter an entire family from the rain." His wings shifted faintly behind him at that.
"Your people glow."
"They do."
"They grow food I've never even seen before."
"It's true yes."
"They're graceful and magical and beautiful and..." Your voice trailed away. "I'm me." The confession felt smaller spoken aloud than it had inside your own head. "I can't do any of that, so I thought..." You swallowed. "...maybe if I worked hard enough..."
The rest refused to come, but Opal understood anyway. "Oh, my moon." You felt one of his hands leave yours only to cup your cheek. He guided your gaze upward with infinite patience. "There you are."
You blinked. "I've been wondering where you'd gone."
"...I'm right here." He smiled sadly. "No." His thumb brushed beneath your eye. "You've been trying so hard to become worthy that I haven't seen you in days."
Something in your chest cracked. "I just wanted your court to know that marrying me wasn't a mistake." His face fell.
"Oh..." The sound was barely more than a breath. "My beloved." He stepped closer until your forehead rested naturally against his. "You've misunderstood something terribly." His wings unfolded slowly around you, shutting out the long corridor behind, holding you.
"I did not marry the most useful person in my kingdom." His nose brushed yours. "I married my favorite person in the world."
Your lip trembled, a tear escaped before you could stop it. It disappeared almost immediately into the pale fur beneath his collar when you leaned against him.
You hadn't realized how tired you were until he was holding you, how desperately your body had wanted to stop. "I'm sorry," you whispered.
"What for?"
"For..." You shook your head. "I don't know anymore." He chuckled quietly, the sound warm against your temple. "I don't think you owe anyone an apology."
One of his hands slipped into your hair, combing gently through it while the other rubbed slow circles between your shoulders. "You wake up beside me every morning." A kiss rested against your forehead. "You laugh at my dreadful sketches." Another against your temple. "You insist on tasting every new tea before I do because you're convinced one of them will eventually be poisonous."
You huffed out a watery laugh. "I've been right once."
"You have." His smile brushed your skin. "And every evening, no matter how busy the day has been..." He pulled back just enough to look at you. "...you come home to me." His opalescent eyes shone so earnestly it almost hurt to meet them.
"What more could I possibly ask you to prove?" The question settled quietly between you. You searched for an answer, and couldn't find one. Opal seemed content with that.
"Come." He took your hand again, threading your fingers together. "I think my spouse has done quite enough proving for one lifetime."
"And where are we going?"
His wings fluffed just a little. "To bed." You blinked. "It's barely evening."
"I know." His smile turned impossibly fond. "I've missed holding you all day."
He lifted your hand, pressing a lingering kiss into your palm before smiling against your skin. "So tonight..." His antennae brushed your forehead. "...let me do something useful."
"And what's that?"
He looked at you as though the answer was the simplest thing in the world. "Remind you that you never had to earn a place beside me."
Then, still holding your hand, he led you home. His wings brushed yours with every step, never quite leaving your side, as though even for the short walk back to your shared chambers, he couldn't bear the thought of there being any distance between you at all.
Choke. Just think about it, seriously. Think about what choking is and imagine speaking while it’s happening. That would fuckin’ hurt, man.
Hiss. Look, it’s just not possible, okay? No matter how “evil” you want your character to seem.
Snarl. Animals snarls. The Beast from Beauty and the Beast snarls. The Hulk snarls. You know who doesn’t snarl? PEOPLE WHEN THEY’RE SPEAKING.
Shriek. Come on, 99% of the time, “shriek” is not the word you want.Let’s face it: if you put an exclamation point at the end of the sentence, your reader gets the picture. Don’t bring to mind banshees and screaming toddlers.
Sneer. I’m not even going to bother explaining this one. “SNEER” ISN’T EVEN A SOUND.
Choked is not meant to be taken literally, an obstruction in the throat. It means they’re having difficultly speaking, they’re forcing the words out with difficulty. Often used when the character is convulsed in tears or laughter.
Hiss is a low, threatening whisper. Raw, guttural, vicious. It is NOT a literal hiss like an animal, it is a tone of voice that serves the same function. Someone will hiss that they’re going to cut your throat- a message from one person to the other.
Snarl is the same kind of thing. Not literal, it’s a tone of voice that serves the same function. It’s raw and gutteral like a hiss, but more savage than vicious. It’s loud, it’s showy, it’s intimidating. It’s very alpha male, big man, look at how fucking dangerous I am. I’ll take ALL of you on. Even if they’re snarling at one person in particular, nobody better back them up or they’re gonna get fucked up too.
Shriek. Come on, seriously? We’ve all heard people shriek either in fear or outrage. High pitched, loud, out of control, feminine. Men can shriek, but it’s funny and emasculating. Think angry italian women throwing pots and pans or ladies on tables who just saw a mouse.
Sneering is contempt whether it’s a facial expression or a tone of voice or both. There are a hundred different ways to sneer with your voice, but it all adds up to the same thing.
What I love about Tumbr is that (if I’m looking at dates and the blog description correctly), OP is currently in their thirties but was a literal child when they wrote this. And if I’d reblogged this and made fun of them when they first posted it, I’d feel bad.
But since OP is now an adult and apparently abandoned their Tumblr like nine years ago and will likely never read my reply… I can be like haha, get fucked! You suck at words!
When I was still being published by someone other than myself, I used to have to fight tooth and nail against CinemaSins-poisoned editors and publishers’ house style who insisted on the same list as the OP. Literally they’d fight me on “hiss” if there wasn’t a sibilant. I’d say “it denotes a harsh whisper.” they’d say “so change it to whispered harshly.”
And that is what I remind myself of whenever I think of going trad published again.
I don't care. I don't care. I'm eating glass. My attention has imploded like a violently dying star and now I think you're like 10% dumber than I did before. Stop telling me things
dededos
titsay
annaxmalina
origamiaround
vaporwave
areudirty
