#ive always held such affection for them <3 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ilycosy · 11 months ago

Text

❝ DO YOU MIND ? ❞ | LUKE CASTELLAN

pairing : luke castellan x child of calliope!reader

summary — being the child of the mother of all muses, you're used to affections. boys and girls flock to you like you're a sweet, lovely thing, but they soon drop it when they realize that you're nothing like a muse. what happens if the camps precious, golden boy starts talking to you?

warnings : reader is a little toxic under their politeness, reader is also described to be feminine but there's no specific prns! luke is also kind of obsessive? he wants reader so bad.. not proofread (that's for babies /j)

aﾉn — i haven't written in a long time so bare with me, nor have i written for the pjo fandom ever (though ive been in it for a while..) this is also vv self indulgent (daughter of calliope here <3) so sorry if this isn't relatable ♡ lowercase intentional :)

being the child of the mother of muses has always been annoying— you've never had a break to just be. whether it be people chasing after you, or people who envy the attention you attract. there was always something, which you resented extremely.

if people were asked about you, they'd have only good things to say. you're beautiful, lovely, polite; but not a muse. it sometimes got annoying that it mattered so much to people, having others constantly talk about how you were never romantic.

you seemed to be uncomfortable with it at the very least, very few felt the resentment you held for love. those few could never confirm it though, having you reassure them that you're just a private person. ("there's no need for grand things, dear. i love you without such things." you'd say, through gritted teeth.) which is what might have drew luke castellan to you.

he saw through the politeness, observing you almost ever since you got claimed. he can picture when you got claimed, your embarrassed smile when an apollo girl had written a song for you. publicly performing it, you had lit up; literally. you were fifteen then— nothings changed in these past years.

luke can't remember all the times you've been confessed to, having songs, poems, even paintings done of you for your affection. but he can remember all the times he watched your facade crack; the way your smile stretched too wide to be real, your eyes dimming when you realized it was just another confession, or how you seemed to never interact with aphrodite boys anymore.

he finds it amusing mostly, how could such a pretty thing resent something people would kill for? either way, he finds himself being drawn in like you're a siren. the way your eyes darken at the mention of your mother, how you reapply gloss whenever you're nervous— he could go on really.

"are you going to eat that?" he finds himself asking you before he can stop himself, pointing at the yogurt bowl right next to your plate. he has half a mind to make sure he doesn't clam up when you look up at him, fluttering your lashes.

you gently push the bowl towards him, continuing on your morning like the best swordsman in the camp isn't talking to you. he pauses for a moment, licking his lips as he thinks of a reason to prolong this conversation.

fate seems to be on his side though— his brother, chris, being to busy talking to clarisse to even glance his way. he sits down, looking across from you as he eats the yogurt. he almost forgets that staring is rude.

"do you mind?" you ask, raising an eyebrow at him as you take a bite out of your crossiant. somewhat annoyed by the curly haired boy, your leg bounces steadily. "do i mind what?" he asks, like he's stupid— for some reason, you can't help but let your annoyance take over.

"why are you here," you start, pointing at the empty table. void of friends, you always sit alone until somebody claims they're in love with you. "you usually sit with your brothers and annabeth."

he shrugs at your questioning, not being able to find it in himself to hold back a teasing remark. "you know where i usually sit?" he asks with a small small, but the glint in his eyes show a certain smugness that gets under your skin.

you smile back at him, stretched too far and there's a bite in your voice hidden under honeyed words. "bye castellan," you croon sweetly. "hope you find your way back to your seat!" is all you give him, a morsel of fake attention that sends him reeling.

the next day, you wake up a bit later than normal. rising from your bunk around nine means you've missed breakfast, a deep feeling of anger surges through your core in a flash before you stretch and get dressed for the day.

when you leave the hermes cabin, you're stopped by a familiar figure. tall, brown hair, and a stupid smug grin. "hey angel," luke almost sings with how pleased he sounds with himself. "i have a presant!"

he reveals a crossiant and cold coffee, the faint warmth of the once fresh crossiant eases the deep feeling in your core even more though the coffee makes you want to vomit. "i don't like coffee." you state, taking a bite of the baked good. "but thank you, castellan."

he barely has time to respond with a you're welcome or an im sorry before you're smiling, too wide for his liking, and walking away. he debates following you, trying to talk to you like he's desperate for a friend. but he decides against it, wondering how to keep a conversation going with somebody that hates being sought after.

a week passes of the same routine— luke catching you at odd moments during the day, offering you little things to keep you around for a moment longer. you find it annoying, but keep a pleasant attitude anyways, it certainly helps that he's not bad to look at.

a small rumor spreads through camp, luke castellan having a crush. it barely takes the day for people to speculate that it's you.

it almost disappoints you, not having expected the camps favorite to fall so easily— doesn't he have any other girls? you debate on telling him that you're not open for relationships right now, having been in so many already, you could very easily blame any one of your exes.

but you don't have the chance to reject him the next time you see him because he's talking already, smiling at you like you'd fall so easily. "do you wanna help plan an activity with me?" he asks, offering you a delicious smelling tea.

"why would you want me to do that?" you question him, almost allowing yourself to have a genuine lazy smile but you just force a docile confused tilt. you sip on the tea, the once tart raspberries are now sweet in the tea mixing with a hibiscus flavor.

you're too busy drinking to notice him begin talking, he's mid laugh when you tune in. "— maybe you could help with setting up the theater?" he suggests, you pretend like you know how you got into a full conversation with him by subtly trying to exit it.

"why not have the apollo counselor help?" you say sweetly, setting the tea down and turning your full attention onto him. he feels sick to his stomach at how you look at him, soft features with a sugared tone. your eyes look at him like he's below you, like he's a nuisance, and for some reason that might be his favorite part.

he searches your face for a moment, glancing at your cold eyes before he chuckles. "maybe i want to spend time with you," he smiles like a cat, curling on his face with a pride that shouldn't make you as heated as it does. "i think you want to spend time with me too, yeah?"

you almost roll your eyes at his suggestion, but unable to squeeze out of this one without being mean, you agree to help him.

it only takes a couple weeks to fix up the theater due to the lack of counselors wanting to help, so it's safe for the younger kids to have a play— after that, it's back to the apollo children to plan. you sit back on the stage floor, sipping on a water bottle as you bask in the cold dusk breeze. "do you mind?"

a voice speaks from behind you, rasping slightly. you don't even have to look to know who it is, "no, castellan." you say, because you can't think of a reason for why you would mind.

luke sits himself down next to you, his knee brushing yours as he looks down at your water with a stare that could only be described at halfway pathetic and endearing. "here," you say, handing him the bottle. "i don't need you to die of dehydration on me."

he takes it gratefully, drinking it almost empty in three big gulps that make you roll your eyes with a small scoff. "did you just scoff?" he questions, an odd excitement in his voice.

you quickly try to deny it, hands coming up to animate how you didn't scoff or anything of the sort. but he already has a grin like he's drunk of the noise, "you definitely scoffed! that was so funny," he says with a loud laugh that makes you shush him, afraid of other campers hearing.

"i don't know why you hide that." he mumbles on your hand, fighting the temptation to lick it so you release him. those thoughts subside when your pretty eyes look up at him in confusion, "your annoyance." he clarifies.

"im not annoyed," you say, a bit defensively as you pull your hand away from him. "bit rude of you to say that, castellan."

he rolls his eyes in response, one of his arms coming behind you to rest on the stage. you can feel the ghost of it barely grazing you, "you're definitely annoyed," he says matter-of-factly. "you're almost always annoyed, or angry."

you fight back a scoff, but then give up. rolling your eyes you turn to him, searching his face for how he noticed, why he's doing this— but you come up with nothing. "why do you care?" you almost snap at him, drumming your fingers on your knee.

"i don't," he says like it's obvious. "im the same way." there's a beat after he says it, a silence that seems more comfortable than awkward like it should be. admitting his anger to you felt like a breath of fresh air, because he knew you'd understand him.

you bite your bottom lip, turning to face him. "that hatred," you start, almost in disbelief that you finally have the opportunity to talk about this. "it doesn't go away huh?" the question is phrased more like a statement, barely asking for confirmation.

he nods, not speaking as he watches you. there was no need for an explanation on what the hatred was, he knew as soon as you began talking. the gift from your mother was never really a gift to you, a burden of what it means to be a demigod is all it was.

you never knew what was genuine, or what was your mothers doing. but you felt a sense of ease with the hermes boy, nothing like all your previous relationships. "do you think it's bad," you mumble, almost ashamed.

"do you think it's bad that we feel this way?"

your question is softly spoken, genuinely interested in his opinion. he feels himself almost feel guilty for you, but he can't lie. "no," he wraps an arm around your waist. gently bringing you closer. "i think we might be the only ones in the right."

he says it with such confidence, a lack of guilt or unease in his voice that it makes you smile. not a sweet one, but a prideful one. one that could reflect the pride of a god, finally validation for the deep seated resentment that almost quenches that thirst for revenge.

minutes of silence pass by, the sun fully set as you lean your head on his shoulder. inhaling the pine and deep smell of his cologne, you hum. "are the rumors 'round camp true?" you ask.

he feels a small blush creep up his neck and ears, spreading across his face as he realizes that you heard about those. he never meant for his half-brothers to over hear a private conversation (said private conversation was in the bathroom, luke washing his hands while chris talked loudly about how he could get clarisse to go on a double date if he'd just ask you out already.)

"uh," he laughs awkwardly, his fingers drumming on the soft skin of your waist. "do you mind?"

you can't help the small smile that spreads across your face, "no." is all you need to say before his wet lips are on yours. hungry and desperate for your attention, which you give him without another thought.

#cosywriting #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you #luke x reader #luke castellan fic #luke castellan fanfiction #luke castellan fluff #castellanswrld

1K notes · View notes

cafeinthemoon · 2 years ago

Text

King - Chapter IV

Chapter 4

Wordcount 3,8k

Title Your Voice

Fandom Shuumatsu no Valkyrie / Record of Ragnarok

Previous chapters

1 . 2 . 3

Symbols ⭕ . ➕ . 🖤

Warnings: mentions of nudity; mentions of pain/aching and physical discomfort; slightly angsty and tense tbh

Tagging @cloveradora @the-dumber-scaramouche @mikkies @sl33py-zer0 @nooneknows8976 (If you want to be tagged in any of my stories, just leave a comment on this chapter or send an ask or a message)

N. A.: I still didn't talk about it, but the notes in Italic that preceded Chapter I and the current Chapter are actually lessons from reader's mother, most of them taught during reader's childhood. They are based on her mother's personal experience as a woman and her views on marriage and parenthood, which will be explored in the future, since they're deeply connected to the reasons why reader became Poseidon's wife. Reader's mission in the Kingdom of the Seas is obviously more than survive: as she learns about life and the rules of her new house, she will find opportunities to proof her mother's views right or wrong, as well as to discover secrets about her mother's past that might affect her future.

Also back with this gif bc I love it sm 🥰

They know they cannot tame us completely, so they invent ways to keep us locked. The first thing they do is to turn you into a wife. The second is turn you into a mother. The less time you have to think and to learn, the less power you have over yourself, and so is the will to speak for yourself. When you reach this point, it is over for you. When a woman wants to escape this, she often submits to craziness, sorcery or crimes, but none of these will grant her happiness, or so my experience says. On the other hand, being tamed and silenced will not make you happy either.

Do you remember what we, merchants, always say? Our voice, when well used, can be more precious than the gold we trade. Understand this, child: a woman’s voice is her freedom, and her freedom is gold. To protect your freedom, you must to learn how and when to use your voice.

I’m drowning. I’m in the depths of the ocean, and I can’t get out.

As the King of the Seas was making you his, this was the only thing you could think of.

The indigo curtains, seen from the canopy’s interior, were turned black to your blurry sight, and the size of the mattress made it impossible for you to reach their edges; the sheets, slipping under your body like silk, were cold when you first touched them, but now the heat of the activities over them went through the fabric, and you felt them clinging to your sweaty skin at each movement.

He was now using his legs to keep yours in place, and as one of his hands held your left arm, the other kept a firm grip on your waist, maintaining the closeness while he used his lips on your mouth, your chin and neck. You could hardly move on your own, but it wasn’t like you needed it: Poseidon considered that most of the work was supposed to be done by himself, and in the name of his pride he would insist on it even when you were willing to do your part. Not that he was brute or was unsure of what to do, of course – he knew exactly how to be good to his woman, quickly discovering where to touch and where to caress, taking the best out of you – but he was a god, and god’s ego was unparalleled.

I’m drowning, and he won’t let me reach the surface.

However, as much as his experience and boldness made everything special, this was also the biggest issue of this union: compared to him, you were frail and small, so your limbs succumbed before his strength and your body found hard to follow his pace after little time; with the weight of his body over yours, the steamy air barely filled your lungs, and his grip made it impossible for you to do things such as raising your hands to touch him.

Still, you watched your desire for him grow, so you wanted, you expected him to carry on: the taste of his lips had you addicted, and his scent on your nostrils was intoxicating. Like someone caught in the middle of strong waves, who finds a curious, new pleasure in their crashes against their skin, you found yourself wishing to see him crush, tear you apart, take everything out of you until there was nothing left.

I’m drowning... but I don’t want to escape.

This thought had you scared when it crossed your mind. You supposed that this was what people called a god’s enchantment, the reason why many couldn’t say no to become their lovers, to have their children or even to die or to be cursed for their sake.

This is how he keeps so many of us under his control, then.

Now you were gasping for air, your eyes burning with tears, and your body started to ache. Poseidon had his hands on your hips now, keeping you in place as he kissed your cheek. If you didn’t want to get hurt, you would need him to go easier, but would him hear you for a second time? Would you be testing his patience with this?

For the sake of your well-being, you decided to risk.

– P-Poseidon-sama… – you whispered, your hands on his shoulders – I can’t breathe…

For a moment, you thought he didn’t hear you, but you sighed in relief when he stopped at last, taking his chest off yours. Your lungs were immediately filled with hot air, and for a moment you were unable to speak.

– Look at you – you felt his fingers brushing your hair away from your sweaty forehead – So fragile that I could break you if I kept going… It is even pathetic…

You bit your lip to avoid an irritated reaction: yes, you weren’t expecting a formal apology for the state he put you in, but blaming you for it was too much. He laughed, as if your anger was too cute for him to take it seriously, and sat on the bed, taking you with him and adjusting you on his lap; your legs ached a bit, but at least you could breathe freely now. You leaned your hands on his shoulders as to seek for balance, and his hands kept a strong grip around your waist, guiding your body as he continued to make love to it.

– Still, I cannot help it – you felt his tongue on your cheek, where a single tear rolled through, wet and warm against your skin – Your flesh is softer… Your scent is more delicate… Your taste is sweeter… – he grabbed your thigh, pulling you tighter against himself; your muscles ached, making you moan – If I was a human like you, I would say you would be the death of me…

Those words aroused and surprised you at the same time.

In the beginning, by everything you’ve heard about Poseidon’s disposition towards your people, the fact that you were chosen to become his wife was just senseless; however, what he was doing, what he was saying now revealed a side of this story that you’d never suppose to exist. Was he as drawn to the human fragility as he claimed? Or was it the very reason why he rarely brought humans to his domains? This second hypothesis was easier to believe now that you were finally with him.

And if that was the case, your privilege – your luck – of still being alive was greater than you could imagine.

You felt his palm on the back of your head, his fingers slipping through your hair as he started murmuring in your ear, his lips brushing on it and making you shiver.

– Would you like it, little dragonet? If I said I would die because of you? – he kissed your lobe – Playing with your words, saying these absurd things about dying for each other… I have heard mortals enjoy it… But what about you? – and, since you didn’t reply, – Why are you so quiet?… Won’t you give me an answer? Hm?

You mumbled a negative reply, and he chuckled, his hot breath warming your skin.

– You do not like it? – his grip on your hair increased, keeping you in place – Liar.

– I’m not…! – you had the nerve to talk back – I’m not lying, my Lord…!

Instead of getting angry, Poseidon laughed at this: apparently, your frail attempts of denying him were really entertaining.

– Oh, no? – you felt his hands caressing your lower back, pulling you to him, his lips brushing over yours as he spoke – Then why your body says otherwise?

You bit your lip, refusing to reply because, in fact, you weren’t in conditions for this: the mere thought of having a powerful god at your feet, trading his life for you like a mortal man, was an audacity by itself, even more exciting when he put it in words. But you didn’t enjoy the sensation of having your fantasies exposed and scrutinized by him, so you avoided arguing, limiting your voice to gasps and tiny moans.

How did I end up this way? There’s a part of myself I don’t want him to reach... Still, my body desires him, to the point of making me think I would devote myself forever to him if I could… that’s so unfair...

Your heartbeats grew faster as hot tears fell through your face, and you threw your arms around him, hiding your face on his shoulder when your apex finally came.

However, it lasted longer than you expected: even though he noticed you were on your limit, Poseidon carried on for a while, only stopping when he has taken everything he could from you. By the end of it, your body was covered in sweat and your limbs were trembling, so that the only thing you were able to do was to stand still, panting.

He laid you down on the mattress, but didn’t take the spot by your side: he kept sitting on the same place, as you felt his eyes observing your exhausted form. Your ankle was tickled when he caressed it with his fingertips.

– I suppose you are not able to take more than this for now. So, stay there and rest – he spoke more to himself than to you; in his voice, you sensed a mixture of diversion and disdain for your state – But even when you are a tiny, delicate human, you resisted well, dragonet. You are a really entertaining creature. Bringing you here was a wise decision.

You were hearing all of this, of course, but being too tired to open your mouth or even to think of a response, you just stood quiet. If Poseidon thought you were already sleeping, you couldn’t tell, but he fell silent with the complete absence of your voice. Moments after, you noticed a pressure on the mattress, as if he was moving away from you, and the sound of the curtains being opened confirmed that he was going to leave you there alone.

***

You woke up in a startle and realized you were laying on the same position you were left on the bed. The curtains were closed, and everything was quiet inside them. You had no ways to be sure of how long you’ve slept, but you supposed it has been just a few minutes, because you didn’t notice any numbness or ache on the side of your body upon which you laid. You moved to the other side…

And startled when you found Poseidon lying there too. Your first impulse was to move away from him, but the possibility of him waking up and pulling you back to himself refrained you, so you first tried to make sure he was asleep: you didn’t even know if gods needed to sleep, but he was so quiet, his breath so slow and deep, that you were almost convinced that they did. You raised your hand and touched his chest, sensing it moving up and down to his breath, but no reaction came from him.

You moved your hand away, relieved, and tried to distance your body from his… but his voice, low and composed, stopped you midway.

– I am awake, if this is what you want to find out – you sensed the mattress being pressed as he moved on his side – And I would appreciate if you stopped trying to escape. You will return to the lodge, but only when I decide.

Before you could do anything, you sensed him stretching his arm and grabbing you by your waist, pulling you back and laying you upon himself. You shivered when you noticed he was still undressed, but stood quiet, your head resting on his chest, his arm wrapped tight around you. For a moment, you were afraid he would suffocate you again, but you were left at will.

You thought he would engage in a conversation after making you stay with him, but he just stood as silent as before: apparently, he had no interest in building any form of relationship with you through talking, but wanted to keep you as a living belonging, one that he could touch, smell and sense around him whenever he could, just as he was doing now: while he had one arm folded behind his head, the other one was around you, his hand tracing circles on your back, his fingers sometimes playing with your hair.

Your chest ached with that. If you were married to someone you knew well, and whom you had enough time to love, you would be in a peaceful, ecstatic state at that very moment. But, after being dragged to a room under the ocean to lie with someone you only knew by name and who wasn’t even human, there was no way for you to feel in peace now.

A lump appeared in your throat, and you tightened your lips and eyes to avoid crying, but when you noticed, your cheeks were wet and clingy, and you started trembling. You tried to contain your restlessness, but all your efforts were in vain, and none of this went unnoticed by Poseidon, who inquired you with a sort of annoyance.

– What is it?

You gathered all your strength to not sob and replied that you were just sore.

– Why didn’t you tell me earlier?

And, without waiting for a response, he took you out of the canopy, carrying you in his arms to another section of the room.

***

You went through a door that was invisible from the room’s entry, but easily detected when you left the bed. This door was similar to the one of the entry, but narrower, and it led to a corridor with cold, white lights and blue walls. By the end of it, there was what you supposed to be a bathing area, but you couldn’t see any shower or bathtub anywhere: it was just the floor and the walls decorated with small tiles that formed mosaics representing episodes of marine wildlife, from small creatures being swallowed by colossal predators to elegant beings playing, wandering and making love to each other. You were wondering why would someone want this last activity to be represented inside their house when Poseidon put you down and stepped away from you.

You passed your arms upon your chest and thought of asking what was going on when you saw him snapping his fingers, and the last thing you knew was your sight being covered by jets of warm water coming from all possible directions, making you protect your eyes as they cleaned your body entirely.

Heavens, if he wants to drown me, he could just say it out loud.

You closed your lips tight to avoid swallowing water, and after what seemed an eternity, the showering finally ended. With a sigh, you rubbed your face and blinked until your view got clear again. You were twisting your hair to take out the excess of water when Poseidon approached you and held you in his arms again; you tried not to look at his face, in order to avoid finding a new sign of disappointment in it.

You crossed a second door on the opposite side of the one through which you entered that area, and this time you entered a wider, lighter room that reminded you of a bathing house, with a rectangular water tank in the middle of it, so large that it looked more like a pool than a bathtub; the walls and the edges of the tank were of a rosy white, with delicate patterns of sea weeds and small fishes, and the water’s surface, trembling with ripples that reflected their shade, as well as the light descending from above, from what you supposed to be hidden lamps. All around you, the murmur of the streams falling from four spouts, one at each corner of the tank, worked to calm your moods as much as the lights.

One of the sides of the tank had three or four stairs carved on it that led to the water’s interior. Poseidon stopped in front of them and put you down, leaving you on the first stair as he went to a corner where you saw shelves of bottles in many sizes and shapes, something similar to what you found at the bathing area where Kenya and Yua took care of you earlier. He stretched his hand and grabbed one bottle on the top of a shelf, then a second on the one below it, then brought both with him.

The first bottle’s content reminded you of a pink, vibrant dust, and the second one was of pure white, like the expensive sugar you used to see at the tables of your father’s rich clients. Poseidon opened the bottles (their covers were attached to them) and poured a bit of each one on the water. He went back to put them in their previous places as you observed the color of the water change to a darker shade of pink, and a soothing fragrance came up from it as the dusts blended with it.

Once again, he came back and took you with him as he walked into the water.

The tub wasn’t really deep: on the opposite edge, in front of the stairs, the water reached Poseidon’s knees, which you supposed to be a bit above your own, and when he sat with you on his lap, the water covered your chest.

– What were those things that you poured on the water, Poseidon-sama? – you asked while observing your surroundings.

– Healing salts – he moved the strands of your hair away from your back, leaving your skin exposed – They will work on your pain and tiredness.

You didn’t reply, and he started taking small amounts of the water in his palms and pouring them on your skin, then massaging the wet areas: first, he caressed your back and shoulders, then spent a brief moment on your neck; he then made you uncross your arms and took care of them, and while you looked at his hands working, you startled when you saw the amount of reddish marks all over your body; still, you didn’t interrupt him. Your chest and your breasts were not forgotten, as he stroked them with his palms and gave special attention to your nipples, were the ache was deeper.

Since your thighs and legs were under the water, the effect of the salts reached them faster, still your husband took more time to take care of them: adjusting your position on his lap, he separated your legs and spent the next minutes caressing them, even more in the space between your thighs, where your muscles were more sensitive.

When Poseidon called those products “healing salts”, you supposed it was just a poetic name for common bath salts, which use was limited to cosmetic and relaxing properties, but as you sensed the pain ceasing with the massage and the warm water moving around you, as well as the subtle perfume of the salts entering your nostrils, you understood his words as a literal explanation. When you noticed, you were already feeling your eyes heavy, and, without warning, your head fell forward, and you only had time to sense him bringing it to his chest before the consciousness left you for the second time.

When you woke up, you were on the same place, and the water was still warm. You blinked and moved, trying to straighten up on your husband’s lap.

As soon as you did it, you heard his voice.

– I thought I would have to wake you up, dragonet – he brushed your hair, starting to dry, away from your shoulder – Usually, these salts just work on the pain and the superficial wounds on one’s body, and even to calm one’s mood, but they are strong enough to put a human to sleep.

You didn’t reply. He continued to speak, not letting it clear if he was talking to you or to himself.

– Each moment that passes, you find a new way to surprise me with your frailty – he chuckled – It is been a while since I allowed you to enter my domains, but you are still as tricky as in the old times. However, I am starting to enjoy the stressful mission that is taking care of you.

No word came out from your mouth in response, but you replied in thoughts.

If it’s so stressful, why did you bring me here in the first place?

If Poseidon was able to guess what you were thinking, you didn’t know, but he might have had a clue, judging by what he said to you next.

– You are always so silent. Is this shyness, or are you just not willing to share your thoughts with your husband?

That time, something grew inside you and gave you the courage to speak. You looked into his eyes – something that was even harder to do now that you were seeing his eyes under a clear light.

– If I told you everything that’s inside my mind, my Lord... Would you still keep me alive?

You noticed his right, golden eyebrow raising as he kept his glare over you for a moment, forcing you to look away. You felt his hand approaching your neck, his fingers crawling through your skin, making impossible for you to tell if he was just caressing you or if he was going to suffocate you.

– Why don’t you go ahead and speak your mind to find out?

You swallowed. If those were the conditions, you were better keep your mouth shut.

Poseidon laughed.

– Clever girl – his hand left your neck and held your chin, making you approach him; he gave you a long, warm kiss on your temple – Knowing when to talk and when to keep quiet is a beautiful virtue, and you seem to have mastered it. How did you do it?

Was it an invitation for you to tell him about your origins or past life? If that was the case, you would have to do it carefully: if his servants were able to find your house and deliver his message to your father, he must have been informed about details of your routine or homeland and was now testing your capacity of revealing and hiding things.

Not having much choices, you opted for an honest answer.

– I come from a family of merchants, Poseidon-sama. There is a saying among us: our voice, when well used, can be more precious than the gold we trade. In my house, we take this very seriously.

You observed the corners of his lips curl into a satisfied smile.

– It is good to hear that, dragonet. It means that there is at least one lesson I do not need to teach you.

Chapter 5

#snv #ror #snv poseidon #ror poseidon #oseidon x reader #snv x reader #ror x reader #snv poseidon x reader #ror poseidon x reader #shuumatsu no valkyrie poseidon #record of ragnarok poseidon #shuumatsu no valkyrie x reader #record of ragnarok x reader

172 notes · View notes

teyamskxawng · 2 years ago

Text

In Heat [VI]

Lo'ak Sully x Fem!Omatikaya!Reader

Previously: Chapter I, Chapter II, Chapter III, Chapter IV, Chapter V

The rundown: Blessings from Jake and Neytiri + pre-date night fluff <3

Warnings: 18+ content, language, mention of reader's deceased parents, characters are aged up, minors do not interact!! please

WC: 9.0k

A/N: This one was long, but one more chapter to goooo

The early evening light cast deep hues of orange and purple upon the landscape as it retreated, gracefully surrendering to the impending darkness of night.

After spending the entire day basking in each other's company, blissfully unaware of the outside world, you and Lo'ak finally prepared to leave your sanctuary high in the canopy of Hometree.

In a lovesick-fueled, spur-of-the-moment decision, the two of you planned to visit Jake and Neytiri, eager to share the news of your budding relationship with them.

Lo'ak, fully intent on doing things the right way when it came to courting you, was aware of the long-held tradition that called for a guy to seek permission from the girl's parents before pursuing their daughter.

However, given that you no longer had your parents by your side, Lo'ak knew this aspect of the courtship ritual would need some improvisation.

You felt eternally grateful for how Jake and Neytiri welcomed you into their lives with open arms, knowing that you shared a close bond with their children. Their warm, loving nature made you feel like you had found a second family as they took you under their protective wings–always ensuring that you felt safe and supported.

Jake and Neytiri's genuine affection for you was palpable in every caring interaction, every warm hug, every shared laugh. Each moment solidified your connection with them, showing just how deeply intertwined your lives had become. They wholeheartedly embraced you as one of their own, and it meant the entire world to you.

So when it came to Lo'ak expressing his interest in pursuing a relationship with you, it only felt right to suggest that he seek the blessing of his own parents.

As the last bit of light faded from the sky, you and Lo'ak finally reached the entrance of the Sully family's tent.

With hearts beating boldly in your chests, you prepared yourselves for whatever awaited inside.

Lo'ak was undeniably a bundle of nerves as he contemplated the seemingly monumental task of seeking his parents' approval to court you.

The entire situation was just so, so important to him.

He knew his parents held you in high regard, knew that they shared his deep affection for you. Yet, despite the mutual admiration, Lo'ak couldn't shake the persistent anxiety that lodged itself in the recesses of his mind.

He found himself plagued by nagging doubts and unsettling questions. What if his parents thought he was unworthy of your companionship? Shit, what if they'd already planned for you–the epitome of perfection in their eyes–to be paired off with his brother Neteyam, the perfect son?

Just the thought of it filled him with dread.

As you both neared the tent, you couldn't help but sense a disquieting tension filling the air. You observed how unnervingly quiet Lo'ak had become–a drastic departure from his typically talkative demeanor. Attempting to reestablish a connection, you sought out his gaze, only to be met with disappointment as you discovered that his focus was fixed intently on the ground beneath him as if it held the secret to some unanswerable question; his lips pursed into a thin line across his face–a classic sign of anxiety that you had come to recognize over time.

It was clear to you that Lo'ak's thoughts wandered far beyond the immediate vicinity, consumed by worries of what-ifs and maybes.

You were acutely aware of Lo'ak's continuous struggle with self-doubt. You were sure that his overactive mind must have been racing at breakneck speed, conjuring up all sorts of scenarios that involved his parents flat-out rejecting his courting proposal.

As these thoughts crossed your mind, you were filled with an unyielding sense of determination—a steely resolve to spend every waking moment of your intertwined lives helping Lo'ak see just how truly remarkable he was. You wanted him to understand and embrace his strength, intelligence, and caring nature, not to mention the depths of your unwavering love for him. Firm in your resolution, your heart burgeoned with affection as you thought of your future together.

Chancing a glance at Lo'ak, your eyes danced with delight as you visualized regaling your future children with tales of how his self-doubt once got the best of him. Children who would most likely roll their eyes and say, "Not this story again, Mom," yet they'd listen intently all the same because deep down, they cherished hearing about their father's journey to confidence.

With your heart brimming over, you gently took Lo'ak's hand, delicately entwining your fingers like two lives beautifully twined into one destiny. You then raised your hands toward your lips. You planted a swift yet tender kiss on Lo'ak's knuckles, mimicking his earlier gesture back in the canopy of Hometree.

Your gaze was fixated on Lo'ak with great intensity, your eyes wide with anticipation.

After what felt like an eternity, Lo'ak's intense gaze finally found yours, and the creases of concern etched on his face gradually faded away.

A subtle, heartwarming smile sneaked onto his lips, melting your heart and dissolving your own anxiety. You reached out your other hand and gently clasped his, squeezing it reassuringly before letting go and unraveling your intertwined fingers.

Your unspoken words hung in the air as if bound by an ethereal thread of invisible, mutual understanding.

Finally arriving at the tent, you cautiously pulled open the entrance flap and peered inside to find the entire Sully family hard at work.

Your earlier apprehension evolved into a sense of excitement–you loved visiting everyone and hadn't seen them all under one roof in days. The family was engaged in the aftermath of dinner, the children tidying up as Jake and Neytiri sat together with watchful eyes.

Tuk was busy doling out empty bowls to Kiri one after another, almost as if she was testing Kiri's multitasking abilities. Still, Kiri kept up effortlessly with her unmatched speed and precision. Meanwhile, Neteyam found himself stationed on the opposite side of the tent, focused intently on his task of slicing and storing their leftover meat in an improvised smoke pit on the tent's floor.

As Lo'ak and you ventured inside, every single eye was drawn to you–the two missing faces at their dinner table.

Caught by surprise, Tuk couldn't help but exclaim in delight, "y/n!"

It had been a long time since you last laid eyes on the girl–not since before you started your heat. With Tuk's passionate outburst, your heart began to swell with joy, almost as if it were about to burst.

The sound of Lo'ak's little sister's voice was music to your ears, and the palpable excitement emanating from the girl intensified the happiness brewing within you. Tiny footsteps pitter-pattered toward you as Tuk sprinted over and enveloped you in a fiercely warm hug.

Flashing a smile at her, you lovingly cooed, "Hey there, TukTuk."

As you gently ran your hand over Tuk's short braids, which always seemed to have a life of their own, you asked playfully, "How's my favorite little warrior doing?"

The fondness evident in your tone could've melted anyone's heart. However, Tuk wouldn't let the 'little' remark slide without making her case.

In an act of bold defiance–or so she wanted you to believe–Tuk pulled away from you with an exaggerated pout plastered on her face.

Balancing precariously on the tips of her toes, she tried to stand taller despite gravity working against her. "I'm not little anymore!" She whined, though the way she had to tilt her head back almost entirely to look at you from her position kind of mitigated the strength of her declaration.

You gave in to Tuk's relentless persistence, staging an elaborate performance of being utterly mistaken. You grasped her firmly by the shoulders and studied her from head to toe with feigned amazement in your eyes.

"No, you're not so little anymore, are you? When on Pandora did that happen?"

Tuk responded in kind by playfully sticking her tongue out at you. "Probably during the ten thousand days you disappeared! You missed our hunting lesson this week, y/n."

Ouch. The playful jab struck a chord with you.

Though you realized the importance of the hunting lesson, you had no choice but to miss it. In the throes of your first heat cycle, you knew that you were in no condition to handle a bow and arrow yourself, let alone guide an overly enthusiastic and rambunctious child like Tuk in mastering the weapon. However valid the reason, hearing Tuk's innocent complaint still stung.

You offered Tuk a warm, apologetic smile, bending down to be at eye level with the spirited little girl.

"Don't worry, Tuk. I promise we'll have two lessons next week to make up for it, okay yawne?" you said gently.

While still maintaining your warm grin directed at Tuk, you couldn't help but sneak a furtive peek at Jake and Neytiri, who were observing the unfolding conversation with great amusement. You directed a sheepish smile toward the young girl's parents before continuing hesitantly, "Only if it's okay with your amazing parents…"

Catching on to your subtle cues, Neytiri exchanged a knowing glance with her husband before the pair nodded in agreement.

Jake flashed you a reassuring smile that made his eyes sparkle as if to say, "We trust you with our little one."

Turning his attention towards his daughter, he asked tenderly yet authoritatively, "What do you have to say to y/n, Tuk?"

Upon hearing her father's consent to let her participate in the extra hunting lessons with you, Tuk's ears perked up like excited antennas. She couldn't contain herself anymore; an ecstatic squeal escaped her lips as she jumped up and down.

"Yay, yay, yay!" Tuk chanted gleefully, her entire being radiating pure joy and excitement. Grinning from ear to ear, she thanked you by enveloping you in a bone-crushing hug that was impressively strong for such a tiny person. You chuckled at the little girl's boundless energy.

Lo'ak had been diligently observing your interaction with his younger sister, sporting what he was sure must have been the dopiest lovesick grin anyone had ever seen. He stood there, arms folded across his chest as he absorbed the tender exchange between you two.

You and Tuk had always shared an incredibly close bond, with you taking on the role of an older sister for Tuk, despite not sharing a drop of blood. Tuk was smitten with you, looking up to you as if you were a ray of sunshine that could do no wrong.

Initially, Lo'ak found himself struggling with frustration in those moments when Tuk managed to steal away your attention from him–something he begrudgingly admitted he envied. But over time, as his feelings for you grew stronger, so did his appreciation for the happiness you and Tuk shared with one another. The sight of you together made his heart swell with an almost uncontrollable warmth.

You both meant the world to Lo'ak.

At last, Tuk released herself from your embrace and skipped back to her assigned chore of collecting dishes alongside Kiri.

Seizing the moment, Lo'ak casually closed the distance between himself and you, feeling a sense of comfort and assurance as he neared your presence. Your eyes met for a brief instant–time seeming to pause–before you hastily turned away from one another, trying in vain to hide the infatuated expressions on your faces.

Lo'ak finally mustered the courage to meet the curious gaze of his parents, who had been keenly observing the unusually affectionate exchanges between him and you. The unusual air of intimacy between you that did not escape their observant gazes.

Standing under their watchful eyes, Lo'ak felt a wave of nerves wash over him. He tried to gulp them down before slowly nodding at his parents.

In an attempt to be casual, he said, "Uh, do you think we could speak to you two alone for a minute?"

The moment the words left his mouth, the once lively tent was suddenly engulfed in silence. Everyone within earshot seemed to snap their attention to you and Lo'ak, their stares burning holes into the pair of your souls.

Neytiri and Jake exchanged a glance. It was as if they were effortlessly deciphering their son's request through a silent conversation filled with unspoken thoughts and the tiniest of head movements.

Sensing the escalating tension in the room, Lo'ak felt the need to clear his throat rather conspicuously while attempting to put everyone at ease. "Just need to ask you something. But it's kind of important."

The awkwardness seemed to hang in the air for a few more beats before Lo'ak took a deep breath and awaited his parents' response.

Lo'ak could feel the heat rise to his face as he stood there, awkward and nervous. Kiri and Neteyam exchanged a smug, knowing look.

Finally, Jake decided to show some mercy to his youngest son. Turning away from his wife, he gave Lo'ak a firm, reassuring nod.

Trying to regain some semblance of composure, Lo'ak rubbed his clammy hands against his thighs in anticipation. Meanwhile, Jake's attention shifted to the rest of the children as he motioned toward the entrance of their tent.

In a tone that brooked no argument, he ordered, "You three go help each other wash the dishes."

Neteyam responded with immediate obedience, nodding and uttering a determined "Yes, sir."

Kiri, on the other hand, appeared puzzled by the unfolding events. She hesitated for a moment, trying–albeit unsuccessfully–to catch your eye to gain some sort of insight into the perplexing situation unfolding before her.

And poor Tuk just wanted to be in on the action; she let out an exasperated groan at Jake's directive. "But I want to hear what Lo'ak has to ask!" She whined dramatically, her face scrunching up in despair.

Neytiri, with an expression of mild exasperation, cut her eyes at her youngest child. "Tuk," she uttered firmly, "go with your siblings. Now."

Tuk whirled around on her heel, making a grand effort to conceal her overly dramatic eye-roll at her mother's insistence. With a slight huff, she resigned herself to following her mother's wishes.

As the trio of siblings ambled towards the tent's exit, Neteyam, unable to resist the urge to poke fun at his brother, gently placed his hands on Lo'ak's shoulders, squeezing him jokingly before joining their sister. The laughter of Lo'ak's siblings filled the tent as Neteyam gently nudged Tuk ahead of him with a hand on the top of her head, effectively pushing her out of the tent.

With a final giggle from Tuk as she ducked under the entrance flap into the luminescent night outside, the tent fell silent again.

Only Lo'ak, you, Jake, and Neytiri remained within. You were all waiting for someone (cough cough… Lo'ak) to break through it all and speak up.

Lo'ak had always struggled when it came to matters of the heart, but today was the day he needed to suck it up and put an end to his nervousness.

Mustering up all of his courage, he closed the gap between himself and his parents. But before taking that crucial step, he instinctively reached out for your hand as if it were a magical source of support.

Your grip sent a comforting warmth throughout his entire body, filling him with newfound confidence.

He scrutinized his parents' faces, not missing their keen observation of his move. His father's eyebrows slowly rose in realization while his mother tried her best to suppress her emotions. Taking in a deep breath as if vacuuming all his underlying fears away, Lo'ak exhaled forcefully and let the words tumble out:

"I'm asking for your permission to court y/n y/l/n. She means everything to me, and I can't see myself spending my life with anyone else by my side."

He dared to sneak a glance at you, anxious about your reaction.

Much to his relief, he found you already looking at him with a heart-melting tenderness that radiated from your golden eyes. He smiled back at you, feeling swept up in your affectionate gaze.

The tender moment made it almost impossible for him to tear himself away from you and refocus on his still-silent parents, who were looking at him with unwavering attention.

With hesitant anticipation, he continued, "You two were close with y/n's parents, and you practically raised y/n as one of your own, so…. we thought it'd be good to ask for your blessings."

Holding his breath, Lo'ak nervously awaited their reactions, observing how his parents exchanged a glance filled with a myriad of emotions.

It was his mother who broke the facade first.

A brilliant, heartfelt smile graced her features, and she raised a trembling hand to her lips as an overwhelming surge of emotions threatened to spill over.

Meanwhile, Jake spoke up first.

Though he didn't appear outwardly as gripped by emotion as his wife, anyone could tell that he, too, was immensely proud and overjoyed that his son had found someone who brought such deep and meaningful love into his life.

"Wow. Jesus. I mean, I don't think there's anyone out there that'd be a better match for either one of you," Jake declared, gazing back and forth between you and Lo'ak with rare affection crossing his features.

Neytiri, her eyes glossy with emotion, rose to her feet, gracefully making her way toward the young couple. "Za'u," she beckoned softly.

That caused you and Lo'ak to exchange puzzled glances, each unsure which of you Neytiri was addressing.

Your curiosity was promptly answered when Neytiri enfolded both of you within the warm sanctuary of her arms, pressing your heads gently against her shoulders as a surge of happiness washed over her. Neytiri closed her eyes in contentment, savoring the tender moment.

"I'm so happy for you," she whispered. "Eywa has blessed you both."

Neytiri carefully disentangled herself from the warmth of the double embrace, only to draw you back into a warm one-on-one hug of her own.

Gently, she planted an affectionate kiss on your forehead, the gesture carrying the love of a million mothers.

A rush of emotion surged through you at her affection.

Blinking back tears that threatened to spill and blur your view, you were reminded of how your mother used to shower you with the same tender love before her passing.

As Neytiri cradled you in her arms, she noticed the emotional turmoil wracking through your body through your shaky, uneven breaths. She stroked your head in an attempt to soothe you, letting her nimble fingers dance through your hair. Leaning in, Neytiri tenderly pressed her cheek against the top of your head as a silent testament to your bond.

When Neytiri pulled back, she had a watery smile playing on her lips.

Her eyes lit up with rare humor as she delivered her following words in a low voice–retaining the severe undertones that showed how deeply she meant them: "If my youngest son ever so much as causes you the slightest torment…"

The way Neytiri trailed off was a threat in and of its own.

Her eyes honed in on the boy she spoke of, who was locked in the middle of a warm paternal embrace with his father.

The powerful glare she sent him should have made the hair on the back of his neck stand up, but Lo'ak seemed surprisingly unphased. It was as if the notion that he could ever cause harm to you was so insane that it didn't warrant a reaction.

"That's not gonna happen," Lo'ak confidently stated, unwavering certainty in his voice. "Care too much about her." As he directed a tender, love-struck smile toward you, there was no mistaking just how much he meant those words.

His parents didn't need the divine intervention to understand their son's feelings for you. They knew exactly how deeply rooted the connection was between you and Lo'ak—an undeniable bond formed in your childhood that only continued to strengthen as you grew.

The knowledge brought a slight chuckle from Neytiri and her husband as they recalled Lo'ak's younger days.

Getting him to utter two sentences without bringing you up was practically impossible. No matter what the topic, he'd somehow always steer it right back to your name–"y/n did this," "y/n said that," "Guess what y/n and I did today!"

Little Lo'ak just wouldn't shut up about you.

Even Jake, who was undeniably a tad awkward and unsure of how to navigate this kind of conversation with his son, as well as the girl he'd witnessed grow up alongside his boy, couldn't help but grin at Lo'ak's passionate proclamation of love for you.

Honestly, Jake hadn't anticipated having to address matters of courtship for at least a few more years–and he certainly didn't foresee having to tackle it with Lo'ak before addressing it with Neteyam.

The entire situation left him feeling woefully unprepared when Lo'ak initially sought permission, yet he soon realized that your innocent love was so pure and natural that it effortlessly sidestepped any potential awkwardness. He observed the spark in both of your eyes, especially when you glanced at each other shyly from time to time.

For all intents and purposes, you were already an integral part of the Sully family.

Jake took that fact in stride, stepping away from his son with a final squeeze to his shoulder. He moved towards you, opening his arms and enveloping you in a warm embrace.

You were such a great kid, full of kindness and talent and good spirits–truly exceptional in every way. The fact only became more evident as you gently disentangled yourself from Jake's hug, gratitude shining in your eyes as you expressed your thanks for allowing his son to court you.

"Thank you, Jake," you said earnestly.

With a twinkle in his eye, Jake shook his head and playfully patted you on the top of your head. His grin widened as he replied, "No, thank you," he said, feigning great relief.

With a comical tilt of his head and an exaggerated sigh, he gestured toward Lo'ak.

The boy had by now found himself trapped in his mother's grasp and was being forcibly tucked under her protective chin. Her arms locked tightly around his head–the quintessential motherly embrace.

Jake continued, "Finally have this knucklehead off my hands." Jake barely suppressed a chuckle as his smile threatened to split his face in half.

For a brief moment, Neytiri detached herself from Lo'ak and directed a sharp hiss at her husband. The sudden change in demeanor caused Jake's eyes to widen in terror, his hands flying upwards in an attempt to appease his angered spouse.

Hastily, he clarified, "Just a joke, honey," ensuring that he steered as far away as possible from evoking Neytiri's wrath.

After casting her scrutinizing gaze on Jake, Neytiri opted to continue hugging her son with bone-crushing enthusiasm. She gently swayed Lo'ak from side to side, demonstrating the depth of a mother's love for her child.

With a playfully exasperated expression, Jake glanced toward you with exaggerated wide eyes and an almost comical air of disbelief. However, you were oblivious to Jake's silent banter. Your attention was focused entirely on Lo'ak.

You were utterly captivated by the scene unfolding before you, a smile adorning your face as you marveled at the love and affection emanating from Neytiri towards her son.

The boy valiantly tried to appear unbothered by his mother's enthusiastic hugging, maintaining an aura of toughness in your presence despite being completely smothered in affection.

It was common knowledge that Lo'ak had always been, and would forever remain, a complete momma's boy.

Despite the countless death glares and faux threats she'd send in the direction of her youngest son, Neytiri couldn't help but be utterly tender-hearted when it came to him. You found this charming trait of their relationship to be incredibly endearing.

Lo'ak usually loved the attention (but he'd never admit that out loud).

Now, however, he was far from enthused about his mother's public displays of affection.

He grumbled into her loving embrace, "Alright, Mom." His voice unintentionally took on a higher pitch as his embarrassment grew while being cradled by his mother like a toddler, especially since his brand-new girlfriend was standing right there witnessing it all.

As endearing as it was, you found the entire scenario absolutely hilarious.

Lo'ak just looked so adorably dorky hunched over, his head pressed to his teary-eyed mother's chest.

You tried your best to maintain a straight face but eventually had to place a hand over your mouth to hold back the peals of laughter that threatened to break free at any moment.

Finally, Neytiri reluctantly pulled away from the embrace, holding her son out at arm's length. With tender affection, she placed both hands on either side of Lo'ak's cheeks, gently squeezing them as she cherished the heartfelt moment.

Lo'ak closed his eyes in mortification at the sound of both his girlfriend's and his father's hushed laughter.

He had half a mind to flip you both the finger over his mother's shoulder.

You sat in your tent the following night, meticulously combing through your hair.

You had always been particularly attentive to the care of your hair, finding solace in the repetitive motion that reminded you of how your mother used to tend to it during your childhood.

A snippet of memory flashed through your mind–you, young and energetic, fearlessly training to be a skilled warrior, constantly pushing yourself to new limits. With such an active lifestyle, it was no wonder that your hair frequently suffered the consequences, transforming into an entangled mess by the end of most days.

Your mother, a tender-hearted woman with caring hands, was the only person you felt comfortable entrusting with the delicate task of caring for and braiding your hair.

The memory of her gentle touch still lingered in your mind—her delicate fingers gliding effortlessly through the tangled strands of hair. It was almost therapeutic for you, sitting in your mother's lap as she skillfully braided each section while sharing tales of wisdom and laughter.

You refused to let anyone else handle your hair when she passed away.

Despite numerous heartfelt offers from Omatikayan women around you to braid and aid in grooming as a show of support, you simply couldn't bring yourself to accept them. You just couldn't bear the thought of someone else's hands on the same hair your mother had once lovingly tended to.

You meticulously pulled the front portion of your hair away from your face, fastening it securely at the back of your head with a durable leather band.

You stared intently at your reflection, your gaze lingering on your mother's eyes, your father's nose.

Despite the familiar features, their absence weighed heavily in your heart. You couldn't help but wonder what they would've thought about you, about who you've become, if only they were still there to see you now as you prepared for your first date.

A bittersweet mix of emotions swirled inside you as you gently brushed your hair forward until it cascaded over your shoulders and down your chest. Out of habit, you drew free two strands from the half-ponytail that you created, delicately framing your facial features.

Pausing to critically assess your overall appearance, you cast a discerning eye over your body, slightly adjusting the newly woven top you had painstakingly labored over until it achieved the perfect fit.

Your chest rose with pride as you took in the iridescent beads that tastefully accented your creation, subtly shimmering when caught by the light.

Your loincloth paired flawlessly with the eye-catching top, featuring similar beading that dangled gracefully from its front. The beaded strands ran down the length of your long legs, striking just the right chord between elegance and allure.

You never really paid much attention to your appearance–after all, you were a fierce warrior in a world where looks held no clout on the battlefield.

However, as you gazed at your reflection on this particular night, you felt a surge of beauty and confidence.

Your eyes were naturally drawn to the vibrant yellow flower Kiri had hand-picked for you earlier that day when you told the girl that Lo'ak had nervously asked you out on a date.

You smiled, reminiscing about Lo'ak's clumsy demeanor during the encounter–fumbling over his words and blushing like a smitten teenage girl as he barely managed to stammer out an invitation for a late-night rendezvous of sorts.

As you delicately plucked the brilliant yellow flower from its resting spot on your dresser, you felt a thrill run down your spine.

Tonight's date meant more to you than you cared to admit. You stood poised with the flower in hand, ready to adorn yourself with the token of affection and begin the new chapter in your relationship with Lo'ak.

Then came the knock, the gentle rapping at the entrance of your tent accompanied by Lo'ak's familiar voice calling out your name.

"You can come in," you announced as you anxiously peered over your shoulder.

A smile spread across your face as you observed Lo'ak's crouched form gently pushing aside the tent's flap and emerging into your home.

He made a gallant attempt at entering; however, his feet became rooted to the ground halfway in, his mouth hanging open a bit in astonishment upon seeing you. His eyes roved up and down your body, overtly analyzing every little detail of your entire essence. You sent his mind into a frenzy, and for a moment, words escaped him.

"Hi, Lo'ak," you greeted him warmly, flashing him an infectious smile that seemed to light up even the darkest corners of the tent.

It was evident that your presence had thrown Lo'ak off balance as he desperately fumbled for words while attempting to regain his composure.

Lo'ak swallowed hard, his pupils dilating as he focused back on your face.

It finally dawned on him that his grip on the tent's flap had intensified–it seemed like he had been hanging onto it as if it was his lifeline while processing the sheer beauty standing before him.

Realizing just how crazy he probably looked, he self-consciously released his grasp on the flap and cautiously stepped into the safe haven of your home.

As Lo'ak tried to nonchalantly re-familiarize himself with the tent's surroundings, you could barely stifle a snicker at his disarray.

Finally somewhat composed, Lo'ak began to speak, "You look…" but his voice faltered as his eyes betrayed him once more.

They darted across your figure involuntarily, leaving him both stunned and in awe. You were still the same breathtakingly beautiful girl he had always known and admired. However, tonight, you seemed to shine in a new and enchanting light–literally.

Your presence was almost ethereal as the silver beams of moonlight snuck into your tent and surrounded your form in a mesmerizing halo-like essence.

The glistening beads adorning your chest seemed to dance with the light, casting a dreamy glow upon your lithe frame.

Lo'ak tried valiantly to regain control of his words and emotions but found himself anchored by the unexpected enchantment of the moment. Attempting to form words of admiration, Lo'ak stumbled over his speech like awkward footsteps on uneven ground.

Unable to articulate his thoughts clearly, he barely managed to stutter out, "Shit. I mean—Wow…"

He locked eyes with you as if seeking solace from his own bewilderment. After a fleeting quietude, he finished his sentence with newfound determination, "You look beautiful."

His actions manifested his flustered state even further when he raised a shaky hand to his forehead and trailed it downwards through the air in a long overdue–yet still adorably charming–greeting.

He'd finally come to his senses enough to realize that maybe he should stop embarrassing himself in front of you.

Banishing any lingering awkwardness, Lo'ak consciously steadied himself.

"Thanks, Lo'," you mumbled, your cheeks taking on a familiar pink-purple hue as you glanced away from Lo'ak's gaze and down at the flower that was still cradled in your hands.

Even though you desperately attempted to hide it, the warmth of shyness spread through your chest like wildfire.

Lo'ak closed the distance separating you by taking a few deliberate steps closer. It might have been the potent allure of your subtle beauty or the infectious nature of your timidness, but either way, he found himself compelled towards you. He stood just inches from you, close enough that he could practically feel the heat radiating off your body.

With a hint of playfulness in his eyes, he whispered softly, "Do you have any idea how perfect you are? How lucky I am?" He knew that his words were cheesy and gross, and his siblings would never shut up about it if they ever heard about it, but he was convinced that no mortal realm could produce something so divine as your blush-flushed face.

A grin threatened to stretch across his face as he took in your reaction.

His hands reached out gingerly to cradle your face, gently caressing your soft skin as they traveled down the curve of your neck and over your delicate shoulders. And then, with the tenderness of a caring lover, he took your hands into his own and clasped them tightly.

Your fingers intertwined effortlessly as if they had been crafted specifically for one another's grasp–a lifetime of emotions passing between you both in a single moment.

Though you rolled your eyes at his cliché words, you were painfully aware that your cheeks were glowing under his adoring gaze.

Pretending to be unaffected, you playfully wrapped your arms around his neck while gently brushing your nose against his, giving him a teasing grin.

"Shut up," you replied, a hint of laughter in your voice, "I'm the lucky one."

And as you spoke the words, you couldn't help but wonder if the incredibly surreal moment was just a figment of your imagination.

As if there was no way the boy you'd been in love with for your entire life reciprocated feelings for you. You felt warm all over. It was like a group of woodsprites was performing a magical dance inside your stomach, their delicate arms fluttering with each beat of your heart.

Lo'ak found himself completely captivated by your charming smile–so much so that he could only blink down at you in disbelief as if attempting to comprehend how such an extraordinary moment could be happening to him.

His half-lidded eyes fixated upon the enticing allure of your lips. It was at that precise moment that whatever had been the topic of your conversation seemed to vaporize into thin air.

Lo'ak leaned in, hesitating just a hair's breadth away from your tantalizing lips. And then, with unbridled intensity, he pressed his mouth against yours, wasting no time before deepening the passionate connection as he felt you eagerly reciprocate.

A sweet sigh escaped from your lips, reverberating into Lo'ak's very soul. Your hands cupped his face with an urgency that coaxed him to close the already minute distance between your bodies–a task that seemed impossible and yet one you were both determined to conquer.

The chemistry between the two of you pulsated like a current, undeniable and completely intoxicating.

Lo'ak circled his arms around your waist, drawing you close as you finessed your way onto your tiptoes in an effort to bridge your height difference. With your chests pressed together, your hearts seemingly beat together as one.

You were the first to begrudgingly break away from the heated kiss, the burgeoning passion of it all causing your breath to come in little more than shallow gasps.

As you fought for air, elation danced across your features; Lo'ak's eyes were drawn to the hypnotic way your chest, adorned with all the little shimmering beads of your top, rose and fell like waves on a storm-tossed sea.

Lo'ak tugged at your bottom lip with his teeth before releasing it slowly, breathlessly whispering words that seemed simultaneously incredulous and euphoric: "You're not real…"

You still had no idea how to accept the compliments that continually flew from Lo'ak's lips, so you pushed him lightly in the chest–though some might argue it was more of a loving shove.

After a lingering moment, you slowly pulled away and carefully handed the delicate flower you held in your hands to Lo'ak before pivoting away from him, your back towards his front. "Can you put this in my hair for me?" You asked, catching his eye in the polished stone in front of you.

Lo'ak's eyes met yours in the reflection, and you both shared a smile before he acquiesced with a gentle nod of assent.

Lo'ak grinned from ear to ear, his heart swelling with warmth at such a simple yet intimately domestic request. He gathered himself together, consciously straightening his posture and adjusting his stance.

He wove the fragile stem of the flower through the portion of hair you had previously tied back. Using the tenderness of his fingers, he tied your hair and the flower stem together in a knot to ensure it stayed secure.

The artistry of such a simple gesture wasn't lost on him–this was akin to securing his place in your life with every twist and turn of the stem.

After ensuring that his handiwork was secure, he used his fingers to tilt your head to the side, glancing back into the reflective surface so that you could appreciate his masterpiece.

Lo'ak was pleasantly surprised to find that you were already stealing glances at him through the reflection. Your sparkling eyes, ripe with amusement and a dash of affectionate mockery at his antics, shone brightly as you clearly struggled to suppress your laughter.

From his position behind you, Lo'ak grasped the underside of your chin and carefully tilted your head back until your eyes met the tent's ceiling. You squinted in bewilderment, eyes narrowing even further as a mischievous smile spread across Lo'ak's face.

Lo'ak leaned in closer until his lips brushed against your forehead, leaving a tender kiss that lingered for just a moment.

You exhaled sharply, your eyes crinkling shut while you reveled in the sheer bliss of the moment. You beamed at Lo'ak's endearing display of affection.

It was becoming increasingly apparent that forehead kisses were Lo'ak's thing, and it made your heart lurch every single time.

Your connection was palpable, transcending language as your hearts seemed to communicate all on their own.

Bringing your head back to its forward-facing position, you were quickly enveloped in Lo'ak's arms as they wrapped around your front.

His chin lovingly rested in the crook of your shoulder, and his warm breath cascaded by your cheek and neck like an enchanted breeze coaxing delicate goosebumps to dance across your skin. He pressed a fleeting kiss onto your cheek, a domestic little gesture that sent your nerve endings alight with sparks of sensitivity and made your once-even breath catch in your throat.

Your hands instinctively reached up to clasp onto Lo'ak's arms, tracing the contours of his sinewy muscles through entwined fingers. Your thumb made small circles on his warm skin as if penning words of adoration only your hearts could read.

There you stood, intertwined and basking in the unparalleled closeness for what felt like an eternity.

For those precious moments, nothing else mattered. The two of you were lost in a world entirely your own.

As you absentmindedly traced your fingers along Lo'ak's forearm, you spotted an unfamiliar band wrapped around his arm. It immediately caught your attention, as it was different from his usual simply woven armband.

Unable to restrain your curiosity, you gave Lo'ak a gentle nudge and pointed to the new accessory, casually inquiring, "When did you get this?"

Lo'ak seemed to be suddenly jolted back to reality by your unexpected query. His eyes darted toward the band adorning his arm, and a sheepish grin slowly crept onto his lips.

He removed the armband from himself and proudly presented it to you. His demeanor brimming with a mix of anticipation and nervousness, he uttered with an uncharacteristically shy tone, "I made it for you. Yesterday."

As his outstretched fingers reached toward your arm, you found yourself willingly pliant under his hands.

His touch was feather-light as he allowed his fingers to skate up the length of your arm, carefully wrapping the leather band around your bicep. He tightened it, ensuring it hugged you snugly like a second skin.

His fingers may have lingered just a moment longer than necessary, but neither of you seemed to mind.

He took a step back to observe his work, his probing gaze nervously flickering back and forth between the armband and your face in a bid to gauge your reaction to his first courting gift.

"Lo'ak…" you began, your voice barely a whisper as you stared in sheer wonder at the extraordinary gift that adorned your arm. Unable to leash the surge of euphoria that washed over you, a radiant smile stretched across your face as you meticulously inspected every detail in the craftsmanship.

It was an incredibly intricate weave, with methodical rows of tiny cerulean beads meticulously embedded along the center. Dangling from the forefront of the band was a stunning azure feather, swaying gently with each movement of your arm.

The thought that Lo'ak had not only taken his valuable time but also poured his heart and soul into creating such a beautiful gift just for you was utterly mind-blowing.

Your cheeks began to ache from the relentless grinning, but you genuinely couldn't help yourself.

Imagining Lo'ak hunched over the delicate materials late into the night, painstakingly threading bead after bead, all for you, brought unprecedented warmth to your heart. You could practically envision him cursing under his breath, an endearing grimace on his face as he unraveled yet another misaligned row of beads.

"Kiri and Tuk had to teach me how to get all the beads lined up straight, but still."

Lo'ak's face blushed an even deeper shade of purple as you closely examined the painstakingly crafted armband, your expression filled with a particular fondness that seemed to make time stand still.

Attempting to regain his composure, Lo'ak continued, trying his best to keep his voice steady, "Just wanted to make something special for you," he said, a palpable warmth–similar to that of a comforting fire on a cold night–permeating his words.

Now resting snugly on your bicep, the armband was more than just a simple gift. Each cluster of beads spiraling around your arm symbolized friendship and love, telling the story of how the two of your lives had imperfectly intertwined.

At last, you raised your gaze and met his eyes, a spark igniting between you. Your expression undoubtedly revealed the full force of emotions his gift had stirred within you.

You'd fallen for him hard; the sensation nearly swamped you in its intensity.

As if pulled by an invisible force, your hand reached out for Lo'ak and gripped his arm, pulling him closer to you gently but firmly. There was something pleasing in the way he immediately sensed your intentions and effortlessly tilted down to bridge the distance between your lips.

Your lips intertwined in a passionate dance, each kiss a familiar step in an ever-evolving choreography. Each touch sent your senses aflame. Your fingers tightened around his arms, and you felt giddy with desire as you practically drank Lo'ak in.

Lo'ak slowly broke away from you, gazing into your eyes with a lazy smile spreading across his lips.

"So, you like the gift?" he inquired, his deep voice barely above a whisper while a playful light danced in his eyes.

He enjoyed how eagerly you reached out for him, unable to resist pulling him back into your tight and loving embrace.

"Shut up," you mumbled for the second time that day, your tone filled with affectionate annoyance. Without wasting another moment, you reconnected your lips to Lo'ak's once more as if you were drawn together by an irresistible magnetic force. Your fingers found their way through the mess of his braids, gently caressing and teasing.

You eagerly swiped your tongue against Lo'ak's, and a low groan of satisfaction resonated from the depths of his throat as he became lost in your enthusiasm.

The sensation sent shivers down your spine as the sound resonated against your lips, fusing together with every captivating touch and connection between the two of you.

Gradually, almost imperceptibly, Lo'ak started guiding you further into the tent. With each step, his presence felt more magnetic, drawing you in closer until the back of your legs made contact with your dining table. All the while, your lips remained locked in a passionate–bordering on messy–kiss.

Lo'ak gently took hold of the backs of your thighs and lifted you with an ease that spoke volumes about his strength until you found yourself seated upon the table's edge, anticipation coursing through your veins.

A shiver of delight raced down your spine as you were acutely aware of the intimate position you found yourselves in.

Lo'ak stood firmly between your legs, his warm hands resting securely on the tops of your thighs. His fingers occasionally tightened and released their grip on your soft flesh, almost like an instinctive response to the intensity of the moment.

Using your new position to his advantage, Lo'ak broke away from your lips.

His mouth began exploring new territory, leaving a smoldering trail of kisses starting from your flushed cheek before continuing slightly lower along the delicate line of your jaw. With each tender brush of his lips, it felt like he was both adoring and claiming you simultaneously.

With no intention of stopping his tender assault on your senses anytime soon, Lo'ak continued to leave a line of heated kisses down your neck. You could feel his breath on your skin, warm and tantalizingly close. It felt so good; you didn't know what the fuck to do with yourself.

The potent spell that seemed to surround you both only grew stronger with every caress from Lo'ak's lips against your sensitive skin.

As if by instinct, you tilted your head to the side, allowing him better access to your neck. A broken moan escaped your lips, embarrassingly louder than you intended, when he tenderly bit at the sweet spot where your neck met your shoulder.

You could feel the corners of his lips curving into a satisfied grin against your skin, evidently taking pleasure in the extent to which he was able to produce such a response from you.

Over the course of several days, during which you slowly began to explore one another's bodies, the two of you seemed to have acquired an almost complete understanding of one another's desires and sensitivities. It wasn't exactly surprising, considering that before all this happened, Lo'ak had always been–and would continue to be– your best friend.

He was the one person who truly knew you inside and out.

Now that your relationship had evolved into something more intimate beyond mere friendship, it made sense that Lo'ak also possessed a profound knowledge of the delicate parts of your body–the places where tender kisses and gentle touches could reduce you to a quivering mess.

He knew exactly where to plant his kisses and caresses, how to hold and embrace you in a way that made you lose any semblance of control and unravel in his arms. And there you were: completely surrendering yourself to him, falling apart in his warm embrace as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Lo'ak refocused his attention on the tender spot on your neck, an area that he knew was hyper-sensitive to the touch. He pressed gentle kisses and nips into the skin, causing your body to tremble with each electrifying sensation.

You were gripped by a whirlwind of intensity. Your heart raced as your legs instinctively circled around his waist, trapping him closer to you.

Your hands seemed to move on their own accord as they wandered down the sides of Lo'ak's body, leaving a trail of light scratches etched into his skin. Your delicate touch actually caused Lo'ak to whimper against the crook of your neck—an almost inaudible sound that only heightened your desire for him.

Breathless and more than a little out of it by the intensity of it all, you managed to muster a question laced with curiosity and amusement.

"So, is this the date?"

The question hung in the air as you added, "Because I really don't mind–"

Before you could finish that thought, Lo'ak abruptly paused–your words bringing him back to reality in an instant. His sharp intake of breath broke the spell that had previously engulfed him in a lustful haze.

He yanked his mouth away from your neck, staring back at you with dark eyes and an indescribable expression etched across his face.

"Fuck, y/n," he mumbled under his breath; all the while, a grin threatened to conquer the entire expanse of his face.

He couldn't help but take note of your disheveled state, and his chest swelled with pride as he spotted the rapidly forming bruise near your collarbone–a mark of his doing. He shamelessly took in the sight of you, ragged and raw, completely enamored as if you were the most captivating being he'd ever encountered.

His lungs labored for air; he was breathing heavily from the intensity of the experience shared between you two. Yet, even so, it appeared as if there was still more to be said or done–a lingering craving that hadn't been fully quenched.

As if driven by an unspoken instinct, Lo'ak wasted no time closing the distance between you once more. However, this time, his approach was gentler: a brief, tender press against your lips that held all the sweetness and promise of future love.

As he stepped back, his fingers circled around your wrist, securing a gentle grip before gingerly tugging you away from the table's edge–back into reality.

"No," he responded, shaking his head emphatically but with a beaming smile remaining on his face. "I planned it all out. You're just… really distracting."

As if to confirm his statement, Lo'ak's eyes helplessly wandered over your figure once again, taking in every detail as you stood there before him.

A gentle, tender look filled his eyes as he extended his arm and readjusted the position of your top, which must have shifted out of place in the excitement of all that had just transpired.

Lo'ak's careful touch and earnest words effectively conveyed the profound connection that had formed between the two of you. There was an undeniable feeling surrounding you–a bond that exceeded mere physical attraction and delved into the realm of the emotional and unspoken.

Lo'ak paused for a moment, allowing both of you to exchange a look teeming with intimacy and understanding before you spoke up.

"So, it's my fault then?" Your question came out half-jokingly as you tried to divert attention from the increasingly warm blush tinting your cheeks in response to Lo'ak's sincere affection.

Lo'ak laughed at your unyielding nature. He was well aware of just how stubborn you could be at times, and this had become one of those instances where your resilience never ceased to amaze him.

Taking a few measured steps backward, he tried to suppress the burning temptation of getting sidetracked by your infectious energy yet again. Lo'ak knew that if he didn't act now, the date night he had meticulously planned would be nothing more than a distant dream.

Lo'ak gradually inched toward the exit of your tent, a mixture of anticipation and excitement bubbling up inside him, fueling his desire for the evening to be completely memorable.

As he extended his hand towards you, an inviting smile lingered playfully on his lips–a silent invitation for you to take a leap of faith into the evening that awaited the two of you. Lo'ak knew all too well how much you loved exploring the forest and uncovering its secrets alongside him, and tonight would be no exception.

"C'mon, I wanna show you somewhere cool," he enticed, emphasizing his offer by subtly nudging his head toward his outstretched hand.

The moment the idea was proposed, your eyes widened in excitement, and your entire being became enveloped by a childlike sense of joy.

The thought of venturing into the late-night forest alongside Lo'ak sent jolts of anticipation through your body. After all, embarking on these nocturnal escapades had grown to become one of your most treasured pastimes with your best friend.

You could feel the magnetic pull between you and Lo'ak, who stirred within you an eagerness that made any resistance utterly hopeless. He possessed a unique kind of charm that made it genuinely impossible for you to say no, even if you'd wanted to.

Honestly, if Lo'ak asked anything of you, you would probably oblige without hesitation.

It seemed almost instinctive for your fingers to reach out and intertwine with his in a display of trust and camaraderie that seemed to transcend words or even conscious thought.

As Lo'ak gently pulled you forward and out of your tent, the familiar sensation of adrenaline coursed through your veins–a fierce brightness against the inky blackness of the night that seemed to beckon you further into its embrace.

Taglist <3:

@vanillawhale, @strawberryclouds22, @countryandsweetbabygirl, @kurogxrix, @yunonaneko, @ahsatan785, @lauratstrange, @lwesodra, @kaealowri, @starboyloak

Previously: Chapter I, Chapter II, Chapter III, Chapter IV, Chapter V

#teyamskxawng #teyamskxawng’s fics #lo'ak x reader #lo’ak x reader #lo’ak smut #lo'ak smut #avatar the way of water #avatar #avatar 2022 #atwow #lo'ak x y/n #lo’ak x y/n #lo'ak sully #lo’ak #lo'ak fanfiction #avatar fanfiction

186 notes · View notes

lasertee · 8 days ago

Text

ive seen ppl saying that Bellara is JUST like Merrill as well as others saying that they are nothing alike but i just gotta be a centrist on this one.

both are young dalish mages who are studying ancient artifacts from elvenahn (notably eluvians) and who are trying to find a way forward for their people. something similar about the both of them I think is that they both kind of surface level seem very bubbly and optimistic. this is true for both of them but it isn't all there is to them. Merrill is a lot more perceptive and insightful then the other characters in da2 (out of all the party members I think her and Varric are the two who are most aware of their places in a 'story').

in a similar vein underneath Bellara's (still genuine) optimism is someone who understands the price of failure and who knows suffering first-hand. Bellara always expects a happy ending for her serials, and will always try and find a way to save her brother, but she also snaps at the veil jumpers when they aren't being as rigorous with their safety as she feels they need to. she also has pretty consistent dialogue with other members of the group about her not sleeping/resting properly due to her pushing herself too hard. These moments of her pushing herself/ others too hard is again shared with Merrill. where Bellara blames herself for the loss of her brother (as she tells us at the end of her first quest), Merrill blames herself for the loss of Tamlen + Maherial. even years after the fifth blight the other members of Sabrae remark on how much losing them both affected Merrill, and a vision of Tamlen appears at the end of Merrills act 3 quest A new path to taunt her. so far I've pretty much just listed similarities but honestly I think the two have one major difference between them. in Bellara's quest of Cyrian's funeral, she can (depending on choices) talk about the dalish funeral held for her grandmother, and how it helped with the grief. Bellara grew up dalish, surrounded by her family. meanwhile Merrill was NOT born to the clan she was apart of. Merrill's clan was from Nevarra, but since clan Sabrae needed a first, she had to leave her family behind at the age of four. from banters we know that Keeper Marethari looked after Merrill well enough, she wasn't neglected. but she was still taken from her family at an extremely early age, and she never really seemed to fit into her new home.

i also think it is telling that Merrill always seems to have a crush on Hawke (if im gonna be real i kinda think all of the da2 companions are in love a little bit with Hawke but still). a huge part of Merrill's character is just how lonely she is. she loses her first clan, and then loses her second. all she has left are these random people who hang out with her at the hanged man and also fight people in the sewers with her. after da2, when everyone has scattered, who does Merrill have left? I only think its natural for her to develop a really close bond with Hawke. Hawke is also the only person who can actually believe in her. none of her clan, including her teacher believe in what she's doing, and see her as anything but a danger. Fenris and Anders basically never have anything nice to say (Sebastian also threatens to get the groups mages put away for apostasy but I also don't know how serious he was about that. like he might have just been trying to prod at Anders idk). even Varric doesn't fully trust what she's doing. the only person outside of friendship path Hawke who isn't trying to talk her down is Isabela, and that comes from Isabela's faith in Merrill, rather than Isabela's faith in Merrill's work and it's importance. she couldn't care less about that mirror. but in complete contrast, Bellara is surrounded by people who a) believe in her and b) believe in the importance of her work. the first and maybe most formative of those people is her brother Cyrian. it was Cyrian who strove to find the nadas dirthalen WITH her. they shared their goals together. Merrill never had anyone like that. in place of Merrill's Marethari, Bellara had Strife, where one only ever doubted, Strife never shows anything but complete belief in Bellara's capabilities. Bellara also had Irelin (her now ex). In the near beginning of the game, before we, the player, have ever met Bellara, Irelin tells us that she is one of the greatest minds the Veil Jumpers have. Bellara is also part of this entire organisation who is dedicated to the same thing she is, Merrill never had anything close to this.

The key difference between the two is that Merrill always had to do this alone. Bellara may have people taken from her but they will always believe in her, and in what she is trying to achieve. I don't really have a proper conclusion because I've said everything but also Merrill has the vallaslin of mythal and Bellara has the vallaslin of dirthamen. nothing to say about that I just found it interesting.

#da #dragon age #da4 #da4 spoilers #veilguard spoilers #da2 #merrill #merrill da2 #bellara lutare #just wrote almost 900 words about two elves.#i would be ashamed but at the end of the day i am who i am and who i am is someone with something wrong with them #my posts

8 notes · View notes

sunoooism · 2 years ago

Note

i would like to req something pls hehe ^^

chishiya + reader e2l are being yk a couple in secret right but then friends catch them and then everyone goes :o because friends aren't used to shiya being lovey let alone with the person they would least expect to ever see with him

tytytyty it's been a while since ive read anything aib but ive noticed the thinning of fics because of the hype dying down :c

I hope this was okay for you! <3

ARE YOU GUYS BONING?!- chishiya shuntaro x gn!reader

୨୧ . . . content— secret relationship, crack/fluff, profanity, mentions of sex.

from the outside you and Chishiya were friends, but nothing more in your friends' eyes, they thought you got into disputes far too easily to tolerate each other in a loving way. to them you were this cheerful and bubbly person who was always ready to help others despite what people warned, and from their point of view Chishiya was this cold, stoic and on occasion brooding man who held little empathy for anyone but himself. but this was of course their view. to you Chishiya was significantly different. sure, he still harbored the traits that others viewed him as but he also had more caring ones. when it was just the two of you he wasn't exactly bouncing off the walls and hugging you till you couldn't breathe, but he was more open and relaxed. he let you hug him and kiss him wherever you pleased and he was more comfortable showing you physical affection. he'd always ask if you'd remembered to eat or drink anything that day and if not he would cook your favorite meal. at least twice a week he fed into your obsession with little trinkets he'd see on his way home from work, it made his day more bearable when it ended with your smile. to you, Chishiya was your caring boyfriend. which is why you had to hide it. you both knew that if found out you would in turn receive endless amounts of teasing from your mutual friends. especially Kuina.

unfortunately your friend group was together almost every day of the week so you rarely got alone together unless you snuck away somewhere which was definitely not meant to be used as a secret meet up spot. so when Chota and Karube invited you and the others to a party, you and your secret lover declined for separate reasons. there was no way you weren't taking advantage of this chance to be alone. you had texted the group chat saying you were sick and at home while Chishiya had said he was out of town for personal reasons, which wasn't technically a lie on his part.

"peace, finally" you muttered as you shuffled into Chishiya more, your head rested between his neck and shoulder while he had an arm around you to ensure you stayed close. "they better not blow up my phone" you chuckled and refocused your attention to the t.v where a film of Chishiya's choice was playing but soon got distracted and started to fidget with his hands, occasionally you pulled one toward your face so you could lay a kiss on the back of his hand. times like these were the ones you truly cherished.

as the hours ticked by you felt yourself getting sleepy, the repetitive dialogue on the t.v and the slight buzz your boyfriend's cologne gave your head wasn't helping you stay awake. the comforting feeling of having him around didn't help you to stay conscious either. soon the urge to sleep overpowered your body and Chishiya could feel you drifting off on top of him. he lowered the volume on the television for your comfort and pulled a blanket over you both so you wouldn't be cold. Shuntaro never really imagined himself being so lucky. everyone always called him cold and incapable of love, which was in fact a lie. he just showed it differently, which you knew and were okay with. he was immensely grateful that you let him show his adoration for you the way he preferred.

the light of the day was fading and along with it Chishiya's will to stay awake. you had only been passed out for around half an hour so he didn't need to worry about you waking up. so with you tucked up in his hold he let himself fall asleep with you, his head falling to rest on top of yours. when you both awoke to what you assumed to be morning but were instead met with flashing phone cameras you were stunned and a little frustrated to say the least.

"Chishiya, what are you doing to Y/n!" Arisu slurred, clearly more than a little tipsy from the way he was holding himself. "he's cuddling them, that's what he's doing!" Tatta had pushed himself to the front of the huddle just to yell, "are you guys boning?!" Usagi slapped his arm and sent a distasteful glare his way. "don't be so vulgar!"

"okay then, are you guys 'making love'!" Chishiya stared at his flushed friend in disgust and rolled his eyes when they all insisted on an answer from him. "no, we are not boning or making love. we're dating you morons."

silence followed Chishiya's bold statement. everybody stared at each other with wide eyes. the awkward stillness was interrupted when Kuina burst out laughing, the voracity of her cackles almost tipped her over. "okay, good one, Chishiya!" others followed suit after realizing it was a joke. most doubling over in lung aching laughter. "oh my god, man! you almost got me!"

"c'mon guys, let's leave this endearing couple alone!" what they failed to realize was that this was in fact not a joke, and was quite a real relationship. you both stared in shock as your group of drunk friends stumbled out the door and slammed it behind them.

"did they just leave….?"

"It seems that way, yes."

©sunoooism

181 notes · View notes

pixiecaps · 4 months ago

Note

Hello! For the ask game:

Viajante, Parasita da Culpa, Zumbi de Sangue and Síndico Sydney: chose 3 characters and say how do you think they would play Minecraft 🫵 (like.would they really be into building? Would they die every 3 minutes, would they Speedrun the game immediately? Etc)

Viajante - What are moments that make you smile?

i think all the moments between arthur kaiser and joui honestly. the domestic nature between all of them. that love they all held for each other and they were always ALWAYS there for one another. i always think back to you know kaisers attacks and joui & arthur comforting him and kaiser taking a photo of them both so he could see them smile all the time. and man. the canon info of joui going over and cooking for ivette, arthur, and kaiser japanese & brazilian cuisines. and that it was either hit or miss on whether joui burnt it. and you know that bliss between the three and their little family. i think about all of jouis little jealous moments if someone stole away kaiser or arthurs affections. i think about that one photo kaiser drew on. i think about how arthur had lost so much in osnf and he still built up these bonds with people and he gained a new family! and i think about all the shared cigarettes between kaiser & arthur and i think about joui my body is a temple jouki only smoking if its with arthur or kaiser. i think about how kaiser could only look arthur and joui in the eyes. and i think about how they were each others rocks

Parasita da culpa - Which moment or concept would you change if you could, and how?

already answered but i’ll say something else. the change made to transcending after desconjuração. they nerfed my mechanic💔

Zumbi de Sangue - Favourite creature?

hmmmmm you know right now i’d say. its very close between two creatures but the one that takes first place is O Viajante. terrifying. INTENSE. those are scenes that i will never forget because the whole additional aspect the creature brought it was. unforgettable. definitely some of my favorite combats to date ive watched in ordem.

Síndico Sydney - Choose 3 characters and say how do you think they would play Minecraft

omg this is such a fun question

kaiser would be so tryhard when it comes to pvp he’d play on sooo many servers to train he’d love doing shit with strategy and learning how to best kill people. he’d probably have some anonymous reputation online as “Angel of the Night” where no one knows who he is but they all know that when hes there theyre all doomed. he WILL SWEEP. i imagine he has a dark looking skin with like a cloak or something. kinda bbh vibe but all black perhaps

but then when arthur suggests to do a multiplayer world hes so down and its funny cause this sorta infamous pvp god playing with two pretty indifferent players: arthur and joui.

arthur would be decent hes not as good at pvp like kaiser but hes good with the controls and he knows how to play which is the most important part. he takes more of a leadership role with gathering resources and making super efficient farms for the other two to never worry about anything. he’d probably also build their house but its not like hes an incredible builder its just a regular shack but its their regular shack<3 they all have their beds next to each other

which is where we get to joui. he’d be the one begging arthur to collect dyes in their colors like red, green, purple so all their beds are cute and together. he’d be. pretty shit with controls and. everything. he doesnt really understand the game or the point he only agreed to play because he didnt want to miss out on arthur kaiser time. the fomo. so thats how he gets himself involved into this “minecraft” shit. all he does really is follow arthur or kaiser around on their adventures. arthur would probably give joui instructions like collect all the stones with black stuff thts coal and joui would actually do good at that. if hes given a mission he’ll complete it smoothly. kaiser likes trying to train joui but he’s a longgg way from being a pro pvp player like him but kaiser encourages him and tries to make him understand how critting works. joui and kaiser probably go out at night to fight mobs together to get specific resources arthur needs and joui probably dies a couple times but he doesnt back down

they end up having a pretty nice world and maybe with a few months of playing joui can actually hold his ground. kaiser collects flowers to put around their shack and arthur starts wanting to add mods and. theyre happy. they play any free time they have off missions.

ask game

#pix asks aaaa

7 notes · View notes

luvrxbunny · 11 months ago

Note

as touch starved as i may be sexually, on nights (and also days) like this i just crave the physical non sexual intimacy of a lover. you know how everyone has something that comforts them? mine has always been the idea of being held, his warmth surpassing bodily restrictions as it passes into me, and with that warmth i also feel the affection he has for me, and i know that i am loved. unfortunately i have never been able to experience it so all of that is just in my head, and all i can do is long to be held while someone tells me that i am loved, that i am worthy and that he's here for me, here to love, care and cherish me. i long for someone to hold me while i cry, i haven't cried properly in so long because everyone here is always so prying. i long to be just held in an affectionate silence as i cry out and heave and sob and wail. i want to be loved dearly.

at this point i could just be called touch starved anon. sorry for always sending such lengthy asks i just feel comfortable opening up here. hope you have a great day/night <3

aww im so glad u feel comfy here omg thats like the cutest thing ive ever heard but yeah omg i need physical touch so bad like

if someone doesnt hold me this instant i may like— my body may dissipate. i need someone to cuddle w me while i take my multiple naps, he needs to be clinging to me like I'm his only source of warmth. and the thing and being held while crying??? oml kill me

like i actually kinda hate crying in front of people, it makes me feel weak and like— i feel like the person I'm with wouldn't want to deal with comforting me and i wouldn't wanna put them in an awk position like that so its almost impossible for me

but lets say for some reason i start crying in front of him and he just pulls me in and holds me, petting my hair while i ruin his shirt w my tears?? id have to marry him like omfg

#luvrmail 💌#group therapy~

10 notes · View notes

jaysflix · 2 years ago

Text

Unrequited (I-III)

Chapter I, Chapter II, 𖤐 Chapter III, Chapter IV

Part 1, Chapter 3 𖤐 Origins Genre: Romance, drama Pairing(s): Terzo/Reader, Copia/Reader Chapter Synopsis: Reminiscing.

Warnings: Sexual content (masturbation), mentions of death

4.3k words (9 pages)

He’d never lost anything until that night.

The night of the party, the night of your marriage, Copia had never fathomed the feeling of loss. He never wept in front of a crowd, but no one in the room seemed to regard him. Not now or ever. So he wept, quietly. He wept till his tear ducts slipped from his eyes. Until his heart could no longer mend, he became glass, brittle and thin, clear as day. Misery was prominent through the layers of his pale skin as the veins dyed black across his body.

While the drizzle transitioned into light rain, he stood in hopes that the haze would understand the pain and thunder striking in his heart. He’d gotten drunk that night too. Not at the party, but with his own shadow cast on the dark walls of his room, for he was the only one who could show empathy. The glow of the candle was keeping him company, and as the night wore on, he knew his friend too would disappear. It is for the best, he thought, licking the tips of his fingers to hear the satisfying sizzle between them once he shut it off.

Copia did not want to hate. Hate burns from within, and in this weak body, who knows what the heat will destroy. In the back of his mind, he’d hoped it would ruin his love for you. Now that it was official, you were no longer his. Copia couldn’t object. It would draw too much attention and he needed to lay low for a while. He needed to act as if it didn't affect him. But it did. Greatly.

During his first encounter with you, he disturbed your studies, seeking out a friend who’d run away from his room earlier that evening. Blueberries in hand, his tongue clicked soft and eagerly to lure out the rat. Then, a small squeal emitted across the library, and he knew where his companion was. Copia rushed over to the source of the sound, seeing you curled up on the daybed, clutching your book as the rat stood on its hind legs out of curiosity.

“Ay, sh, a cuccia!” He commanded, scooping her up before she chewed through the furniture mercilessly. Copia gave her a blueberry instead to keep her busy. His head turned to you, dipping a little before giving you a half-assed apology and returning to his room to give his friend a lesson about leaving without his permission. To be fair, Copia, unlike his rats, was unsocialized. His main priority was work and taking care of his pets, never seeking friends, and always keeping to himself.

The second encounter was the same. A rat had run away because Terzo left Copia’s room in a hurry. Copia had asked him to check up on his rats because he was too busy to return for lunch. Terzo agreed, got too intrigued by them, opened a cage, and left hurriedly after hearing his meal had been prepared, forgetting to lock up. Next time, he was going to ask Primo.

The rat ventured to the great beyond, filled with shelves of untouched books. It had found you too, sneaking by your side. Feeling her scratchy paws on your arm, mirroring a toddler who wanted to be held, scared you. The shriek was Copia’s beacon. He found you again, this time sitting on the bay window with a different book. He muttered something incoherent while he approached.

“You should put her on a leash.” You joked, huffing and watching as he gave her another blueberry. He said nothing to your comment, not even apologizing. Instead, he turned around with a small scoff of annoyance and walked away. What do you know about rats, he thought to himself, irritation evident in his steps. You didn't mean to offend him.

Rumors of him spread rather quick, most of which stem from poking fun at his unnatural activities and behavior. You’ve heard them all as they became popular within the abbey. Numerous reports state that he was found left for dead in a pile of debris, which explains why he is the rat whisperer. Others consist of the idea that his boosted ego made up for his smaller bits. While most are gullible to the accusations, no matter how convincing or impudent they may seem, rumors remain rumors for a reason, because no one was willing to get to know the Cardinal, so they have to live in the circulation of gossip to keep away the bore. Poor he, you thought.

His cockiness, however, was truly unbearable. No one ever dared to volunteer to help the Cardinal with his work or chores. Yet, he shooed them off when he is offered assistance rather harshly. You remembered a time when a sister came walking back from her duties, black waterfalls of mascara gushing from her eyes as she wailed on about how she’d never met a man so unbelievably inconsiderate. Another instance resulted in the same, except she was willing to tear him apart limb from limb with her bare hands. Before you could see that action, she was stopped, unfortunately.

Again the next night, you sat undisturbed in the library. Though you didn’t enjoy reading all that much, you were devoted to studying and memorizing all of what the dark lord had to offer so when the time was right, his first choice would be you. The book you held was familiar. You memorized the drawings and labels by heart and recreating them was no problem. Your real issue was remembering the words. Usually after completing the book for the hundredth time, citing the text came easy. With this one, it was such an ancient work that the words seemed to peel away each time you opened it. The language is out of date with the modern world making it too difficult to comprehend. Most of those words don’t even exist now.

A loud crack of the book slammed shut due to your frustration sent a cloud of dust to itch at your nose. In all honesty, you’d hoped for a minor distraction like the previous evenings spent here. Despite the Cardinal being perhaps the most despised worker in the church, he posed no threat to you. Opinions of a person should formulate based on your own experience and not others. The whole story of those sisters remains unknown. To you, the Cardinal is a closed-off man who made it seem that he was shy. Perhaps he doesn’t have good experience in making friends, which is why he pushes people away.

You didn’t know why you were so intrigued by him. He gives you no benefits to your work, and bothering him was out of place for you.

Returning to your room was the best idea, but your senses told you otherwise. Instead, you heard the smallest scamper on the stone floors. It was quick and trailed off into the conference room. The clicking of its claws suffocated as it made its way onto the carpet. You followed, catching a glimpse of brown hair sticking up on its back with a wire of a tail. A curious critter, sniffed the mahogany legs of a chair as you kneeled to its level. You clicked your tongue, mimicking the Cardinal’s method,

“Come here,” You coo, offering only your empty hand in hopes it will still accept the gesture. You weren’t one to keep treats in your pocket, considering you’d never really tried to lure an animal, let alone a rat. He (you assumed) was a scruffy one, hair-thin enough to see splotches of pale skin underneath. Sickness dried around his eyes in a reddish color. He could barely see, his nose twitching rapidly. A sharp, sudden pain made you retract your hand in surprise. The rat’s front teeth were stained a little red as your finger began to bleed. The bite was small but hurt like hell.

Another surprise that night crept onto Terzo’s face as he opened the door after hearing a soft knock, and seeing a ball of hair laying limp in your palms.

“Finalmente!” He exasperated, much to your confusion. He urged you inside immediately, not caring whether or not the Cardinal approved of your abrupt appearance.

It was a simple room, a lot larger than your own. To the left, hundreds of literature sat beautifully on dark stained wood, deep carvings along the sides portraying symbols of the Lord. These books were well taken care of, covering still intact and legible print on the spine, shining from the light. And in gold? You might have to borrow.

Terzo sat you down, thrilled. You remembered him being incredibly charming, eyes locked onto yours, never drifting away. He made sure you were the only subject that mattered. Terzo thought the same of you, how beautiful you were, and the way your shyness peeked through. He didn’t know then that he’d also be the one to fall under your spell.

In memory, he smiled small, “Care for a drink?” He asked, oblivious to your uncertainty. Terzo never spoke directly to you before. During confessionals, there was barely a glimpse of his personality to capture. Talking to him like this had an unusual effect on you. From the few moments with him, you’ve pieced together that he was a spirited figure, contrasting the formal act he kept up during mass or other business.

“I’m alright.” You answered, cursing at the tremble. He didn’t make you nervous; the casual conversation felt off in a way that one’s boss attempts to be friendly to a subordinate. Seeing as Terzo was your higher-up and you were merely an overshadowed character, blending in with the rest of the abbey, yes, it was quite strange for him to recognize you.

An awkward silence filled the room before you inquired, “Should we be doing this?”

He chuckled, pouring a drink for himself.

“We’re breaking no rules. Look at it this way: we are on housekeeping duty, keeping the place cozy until his grand arrival.”

“I don’t think his eminence would appreciate me here.” Your words trailed off. Peering down at your hand, the rat shifted into a more comfortable position, swiping its nose after every sneeze. Slowly the rat imprinted on your heart, looking at its pure black eyes showed more emotion than any other rodent you’ve come across. Around the room, you wondered where the Cardinal kept his pets unless he let them roam around. Chills ran down your spine just at the idea. The last thing on your list would be waking up to a rat nibbling at your nose.

From the blue, a raccoon-eyed Cardinal, wearing his usual black cassock, swooped in, halting dead in his tracks at the sight of you. His stressed expression worsened. Lots of things were on his plate; nothing could’ve prepared him for this arrival. Terzo gave it no thought.

“She comes bearing gifts! Cardinale, where can I find a partner like this?”

This being your first encounter with Terzo made the scene uncomfortable. For one, he assumed that you were going to sleep with Copia, not knowing about your deep devotion to someone of greater power (which came across as an insult to you), plus the loud announcement rippling down the corridors for everyone to hear.

The Cardinal grunted, making his way to the other side in his more private chambers.

“Vattene.”

“Ah-ah, where are your manners? We treat our guests with hospitality.” Copia ignored his calls, hastily searching around his office for something you had no knowledge of.

Before being given the chance to speak, Terzo leans down beside your ear and whispers, “He’s a shy one. I’m glad to know he has the charm to invite such a beaut. Do not worry, he won’t bite unless you ask him to.”

He leaned back with the smallest of smiles as he watched your mouth gape.

“That’s not what I’m here for.” You respond. Unconvinced, he quirked a brow. Nevertheless, he confronted his mistake.

“Apologies. He’s not one for visitors.”

The Cardinal was very private about his space. His preference is easy to understand, after all, it is his room, a sanctuary. Terzo, along with the other emeritus brothers, was the exception. However, lately, Terzo has been worried for the Cardinal, seeing as he’s always alone in his private thoughts and kept busy with unnecessary mountains of work, collecting dust on his desk until more is balanced on top.

Copia never had his fair share of partners, unlike the three brothers. His rats were all he needed to get him through the days. Terzo pleads with him to put himself out there to experience, at least once, sexual pleasure. He denies it every time. It just wasn’t possible for a man like him to leave room aside for someone else to give him a sense of euphoria. Plus, he defends, there was no point if he could just do it himself.

“It’s different.” Terzo would say.

Looking at you at his door gave him a sense of hope. So, he gives a thumbs up of encouragement before walking off without a goodbye to his dear friend.

Further inside, through the opened arch, a console table leaned against the wall with lightened candles and a tapestry draped above. An open book sat atop, lightly written words in the best cursive you’ve ever seen. You leaned over, trying your best to read in the dark. It was interesting to see a glimpse of him from his room. Simple, clean, and most of all, comforting.

A gloved hand snapped it shut, making you cringe in surprise. The Cardinal stood to your side, annoyance emitting from his eyes. You backed away as he stepped closer to you, looming over your figure to assert himself in hopes you’d turn away.

“Lasciami in pace.” A command, rough and straightforward and equally as chilling as the look in his eyes. He pushed past you, collecting things from the floor into a collective pile. You hadn’t even noticed the mattress without a frame, unmade by the window.

“Your Eminence, I’ve come in need of-“

“Feh! I said leave, sister.” His hand waved you off in the air as he came back up, pushing the papers against his body to straighten them out. He barely gave you any eye contact at all, again grazing past you toward his desk on the other side, the hem of his black cassock swaying back and forth with each step. You followed hurriedly, keeping a short distance, your hand still cupped with the rat inside.

“Please Cardinal, will you hear me?”

“No. I don’t care how Terzo is paying you, I have nessuna voglia di fotterti.” Just after he finished, something burned within your hand, like raw flesh being exposed to salt and ice. They created a sound you didn’t know they could; the sound of lightning striking away at the first thing it could land on. And the thunder, loud in which they come, leaving an imprint on your fingertips just below his eye. Copia’s head snapped to its side from the force, eyes widened in pure anger and shock.

“Puttana!” He seethed, then gripped at your wrist with the guilty hand, which earned a small yelp, “You will not disrespect me.”

“They were right about you.” You snapped, the same amount of anger pulsating through you. He was taken aback by your retort, allowing you to shake free. To think for a second that maybe, just maybe, he was going to give you a chance. To help you. The rumors may not be true, but now you know that he was the most unlikable being for a reason. Just as cocky and insufferable as they say. You were humiliated. Curiosity got the best of you, but really all you wanted from him, was help so the little one could live a long and, hopefully, fulfilling life.

Now it was your turn to dart past, heading toward the door to take your leave. You should’ve been in your bedroom in the first place. None of this would’ve happened.

Something inside him that night switched on. He thought about all those poems he’d written. The time spent in his office reading books about hopeless relationships between friends, lovers, and family. They all had one thing in common, something he desperately wanted to have with someone new. A connection. Deep down, the Cardinal knew the spreading disease and horrible words thrown at him were hurtful, and the other siblings gave him little to no attention or interest in his adoration. He tried his best to not care, yet it still put him down. Then there was you, which came to confront him willingly, which isn’t seen very often.

“Aspetta.” You had just crossed the line that separated his sanctuary from the darkness of the hallways. The words were coated with such sadness, you couldn’t help the sympathy tighten in your chest. You debated whether or not to turn around and accept his plea. Maybe, just for tonight, you’d give him a chance. So you turned, seeing him rub his gloved knuckles in a fidget. Holding out your hand, you revealed the reason for your coming,

“I believe he is sick.”

Now, standing above the various cages, he stared down at the lump of fur on its back, still with life hollowed out. He saved him once and could’ve saved him again if it weren’t for the selfish desire to drink and throw away the pent-up anger through the walls. This wasn’t like him. Not at all.

He’s always been attentive to his furry friends, taking time to check on their health between his working hours. It’s been weeks since he’d given them proper care. If you were here, the smack he would’ve gotten would be much worse than the first. He didn’t even notice his hand on his cheek, reminding him of the stinging sensation that lasted about an hour.

“Forgive me.” He choked, dropping to a knee as the floodgates burst again. Why is it that the mere life of a rat meant so little, but so much at the same time? Could this be an omen speaking to him? Love is gone, and so is the connection he formed all those years ago, the rat being a representation of a triumphant success they’d both managed. You and he saved the little fellow together. Now, togetherness was no longer, and the tug of this realization pulled down hard until his heart was no longer connected to his soul.

Unlocking the cage, he took the stiffness on his palm, remembering how attentive you were when he told you all about the symptoms the poor rat was showing, and how he could teach you all the things there was to know about them without being judged or given a strange look. He let you meet the others, picking them up one by one to let you hold. When he saw your smile and the way you babied them despite your established fear, he knew the distinction between wanting you as a friend and a lover. The thought appeared as a whisper, but he knew it wouldn’t dissipate within his lifetime. For months you visited his place, most of the time uninvited. He didn’t care. He wanted you there with him and would make excuses to return just so he could spend quality time with you. Soon, after a few years, he will marry you. And as he suspected, the thought never vanished. It coursed to a much heavier feeling he couldn’t shake off.

Death always meant change.

“I think I know why you understand them so much.” You told him once, a finger stroking gently across a fuzzy back. Copia sighed, leaning back in his chair, quill tickling his temple in thought as he watched you kneeling in front of the many enclosures.

“Is that right?” You nodded.

“The misunderstood often find each other.” You answered.

He thought about that for a while, piecing little by little a puzzle to better comprehend. He never thought of himself as misunderstood, just silent and dedicated to his work more than other things. Yes, there were weird things he had connections with that weren’t human, but it’s what makes him perceive the world as interconnected. He didn’t need the human population to be his friend when other species could provide him with the same amount of affection and loyalty he craved his whole life. They didn’t understand him, and they still loved him dearly. Then there was you, his priority among other deals.

You’d searched for him in the night for his help.

He wondered then if you were like him.

･ﾟ:*𖤐*:･ﾟ

Terzo found himself thinking about the painfulness of drowning, and if he in this very moment were to drown, would he survive such a fatal accident? The thoughts were getting out of hand, he knew it. Laying bare in the depths of his bathtub often calls for dangerous thinking as a pastime. There was no hurry, so he relaxed in the iciness of lavender-infused water, marinating until his hands were pruned. The weight of his head dragged him further, eventually sinking into the depths of silence. He closed his eyes, feeling the cold rush renew his body. His hands ran across his face, palms skimming his cheeks to rid of the black. Rubbing away at the paint began to color any clean water that remained.

Out of breath, he came back up again, faster than anticipated as the pounding headache never went away, only knocking at the front of his skull even harder. It’d been about an hour since what happened between you and him, and his apology was overdue. The whole situation was stupid, really. Relaying the explanation in his head over and over again made him realize how unbelievable the story sounded. There was no way for you to trust him, and he couldn’t blame you.

Violently he shuddered. It was time to leave the isolation of his porcelain pod. Being ill was exhausting. God, even the cold bath could not wake him. He thought about resting, but feeling at peace was not an option right now. There was a problem he could not postpone till tomorrow, afraid that Sister would repeat what she’d done last night. Not only that, he was afraid of himself. It was still morning, and although most of the alcohol drained out of his system, his insides were still coated lightly with the unknown intoxicant. The raging hard-on from previously was still existent, in need of release. A shuddered gasp escaped as he brushed ever so slightly against the very tip, sensitive to the touch.

He’d never felt it become this fragile like this before, the sensation was almost as euphoric as it was painful. The reason he hadn’t given in yet was that he knew the guilt that would come after. However, as time passed he was unsure if it would go away in time, so he took this opportunity, replacing his remorse with full pleasure. It’d been waiting a long while to feel his bare hands, Terzo bucked his hips unwillingly once he began to slide a fist at an agonizing pace. Heavy breaths were meant to replace his moans. The sounds were so loud that at this point, he was sure you heard him from the other side of the door.

His selfish desires traveled home from the thought of you. The heart could only carry so much, he didn’t know how long he could hold it up. If it were to fall and burst, so would he. Terzo would profess everything he’s ever felt about you. From the beginning, a few years back, to now. How lucky he is to say he is married to you. There. That was it. His confirmation that there was no remorse for the Cardinal. He is to have to all to himself, and the thought of returning you makes him sick.

He let out a low, quiet groan, frustrated with the idea. There must be a passage in which you will return these intense feelings. He began to pump vigorously, chasing the edge that beckoned. Water sloshed over the sides, slivers of black staining the tub as he gave more violent strokes than he’s ever done before. He reached for the rim, grabbing on for support once he could feel himself crossing the line to pure ecstasy.

You were beginning to feel impatient, silently hoping he didn’t fall asleep in there. You could just go out on your own, the thought of it overwhelmed you, and the moment you would see Copia, you were sure you’d break down and run away. It was scary confronting someone you loved dearly just to be chained to another. The anticipation was killing you. What was taking him so fucking long?

Right on cue, the door opened, revealing a well-groomed Terzo, with a side of distress. He didn’t acknowledge you for a minute, awkwardly stepping out and closing the door behind him. You eyed him, trying not to show your impatience. He could already sense it from where he stood.

“Everything okay?” You asked. He stiffened,

“Fine. Everything is fine.” Though he tried his best to be convincing, your stance said otherwise. Arms crossed over your chest, repeatedly tapping your foot slightly, and brows furrowed. He sighed, “I’m sorry cuore mio. There have been many things on my mind lately.”

You had to give it to him. A lot has happened in less than twenty-four hours, and your body has begged for a break. However, there was no point in resting until this mistake clears up, and you can live happily with Copia as your one true love. Terzo, you noticed, doesn’t seem to understand or even like the idea of going through more work than he has to. You couldn’t do it alone, and right now you needed him to be your supporter.

“If I may confess,”

“Go on.”

“I only wish for things to be the way they were.” You didn’t have to elaborate; Terzo understood. Sometimes, he wishes that too. Meeting you was the best thing to ever happen to him, but since it’s been costing him so much, he wishes he never had.

Translations: (sorry if they're wrong) a cuccia! - Down! Finalmente! - Finally! Vatenne. - Go away. Lasciami in pace. - Leave me alone. nessuna voglia di fotterti. - no desire to fuck you. Puttana! - Bitch! Aspetta. - Wait. cuore mio. - my heart.

Chapter I, Chapter II, 𖤐 Chapter III, Chapter IV

Notes: Sorry for the long wait, I was tweaking this chapter so much. Don't know if I'm satisfied with it so I might edit it here or there. Hope you enjoyed it!

#cardinal copia #popia copia #papa emeritus x reader #papa emeritus iii x reader #papa emeritus iv #papa emeritus iii #papa emeritus iv x reader #cardinal copia x reader #copia x reader #the band ghost #ghost bc #ghost the band #papa emeritus iii terzo #terzo x reader #papa emeritus 3 #papa terzo #papa copia #papa emeritus 4

55 notes · View notes

frozenbound · 1 year ago

Note

dragon hybrids anon here to say u absolutely knocked it outta the park w/ my request thank u very much. glad to hear ure feelin a bit better and even more glad to see more of ur excellent writing. ive got another request if u feel like it: time travel shenanigans where an older hanzo (around overwatch recall-ish age) ends up in the past somehow and gets seduced by a very needy younger version of his little brother (pre attempted fratricide) who has a thing for older men because of obvious reasons. maybe throw in some daddy kink and some mild identity porn if ure so inclined :3

I'm glad you enjoyed them, Anon!! Dragon hybrid Shimadas are just...so good. I really enjoyed writing it!

And now time travel shenanigans! Man oh man, I LOVE me some Shimadacest time traveling and identity porn, let me tell you!! Another high quality ask! Thanks so much for the request, I appreciate it!

Time traveling Older Hanzo with Young Genji, coming right up under the Read More!

Hanzo sprawled out on his back, staring at the sky through a canopy of pink and white cherry blossoms.

He knew joining Overwatch would be a bad idea. He just knew it.

As soon as he could breathe again, he was going to get to his feet, find Genji, and drag him away to…somewhere. Somewhere that wasn’t the middle of a battle between renegade Omnics and renegade heroes.

Genji wouldn’t be too surprised. As soon as he had finished giving Hanzo a tour of their base…a dilapidated, obsolete eyesore…and introduced him to his teammates…a ragtag group of overly-loud, overly-enthusiastic extroverts that had Hanzo itching to disappear at the earliest possible moment…Genji had brought Hanzo to a quiet rooftop overlooking the Mediterranean, sat him down, took off his mask, and said with an mirthful will of iron, “Yes, they’re insane, but so am I, and so are you, and I’m convinced this is where we can do the most good, brother.”

Hanzo had scoffed. “You may be insane,” he’d grumbled, looking out over the orange water towards the setting sun, “but I am not. What makes you think I’m staying after seeing all that?”

“This,” Genji said simply.

And he had leaned forward and kissed Hanzo.

With tongue.

Then with moans, deep, drawn-out moans as Hanzo pressed forward and laid them both out full-length on that roof, chasing the flavor, the feel of Genji’s mouth.

At last. At long, long last.

There, under the open, darkening sky, Hanzo had, with trembling fingers, pushed his trousers down and then felt and poked and prodded between Genji’s legs, finally fondling Genji’s cock and ballsack that fell into the open air when his little brother released his codpiece, and sighing when long-held yearning was finally relieved as his fingertips found the soft, clenching muscle of Genji’s entrance.

By the time the sun disappeared under the horizon, Hanzo was buried in Genji, holding back sobs at how good he felt, how perfect he was around him and laid out under him, so willing and relaxed and buzzing with desire, desire for him, Hanzo, which he had only dreamed might exist in his little brother’s heart.

Then, after Hanzo had thrust his way to both their completions, Genji spilling across his own stomach and chest untouched with a cry that echoed Hanzo’s as he erupted deep inside, they had lain there together under the stairs, wrapped in each other’s arms.

“I’ve wanted this,” Hanzo murmured into Genji’s hair, drawing him closer to his chest, “since the moment you earned your dragon. You looked so handsome, bathed in light and power. I knew then I wanted no one other than you.”

Genji chuckled. “I wish,” he said with a trace of trepidation, “that I could say the same. Don’t get me wrong, brother, I’m flattered that you’ve wanted me for so long, but the world might’ve been kind to keep us apart so long. I’ve always admired you, looked up to you, but would I have returned your affections? Well…not until I saw you again in the castle.”

Despite having Genji here in his arms at last, it was something of a blow to hear that Genji hadn’t shared his feelings as long, but that wasn’t anyone’s fault, much less Genji’s. However, curiosity piqued, Hanzo asked, “Until you saw me there? Why?”

He felt Genji sigh against his chest. “I’m a little wiser than I was in our youth, brother, but one thing hasn’t changed.”

Hanzo furrowed his brow. “What?”

“I’m still as shallow as ever. When I saw that you were…” Genji fell silent and shifted around for an uncomfortable moment, before he awkwardly laughed and continued, “that you’d grown into a DILF, into an oji-san, I instantly got hard as a rock and stayed hard during that entire fight.”

Genji chuckled when the skin pressing against his face warmed up. Hanzo’s blushing was so intense it had reached all the way down to his chest.

“I am not…” Hanzo mumbled.

“Yeah, you are,” Genji said with a laugh. “Accept it. Be grateful for it. Once I caught the oji-san bug when I was nineteen, I’ve chased them all my life. Now I’ve got one for my very own, and I’m not letting go.”

Hanzo was silent for a few moments, before he ventured, “So…if I had…confessed to you earlier…”

“Honestly? If you had confessed before you hid that long chin of yours under your beard, automatic no, and I wouldn’t have been nice about it. After you grew your beard, I might’ve been up for being fuckbuddies, but I suspect that wasn’t what you wanted.”

“No,” Hanzo agreed, his heart clenching.

“I think,” Genji said gently, “that we could’ve had something that wasn’t perfect, but good enough…maybe…to last until you aged like a fine wine.”

“Humph.”

Genji shrugged and stroked his hand up and down Hanzo’s flank. “I’m sorry, brother, but I’m only being honest.”

“I know,” Hanzo said with a huff. “And I accept it, but I wish many, many things could have been different in the past.”

“As do I,” Genji said softly. “But I wouldn’t change this, right here, right now. Never. Not for anything.”

And for one perfect moment, Hanzo was content. With everything. Past, present, and future.

The moment had passed, of course, but with Genji at his side and in his bed and in his heart, much of that contentment managed to stick around.

But enough was enough.

After being forced to return to Hanamura to face an alliance of Hashimoto and Talon just in time for a Null Sector attack to send everyone, friend and foe, scrambling for cover, enough was finally enough.

The battle against Null Sector had been hard, but ultimately successful, and Hanzo had even allowed himself to be briefly impressed by this ragtag group of heroes…then a lone Null Sector omnic soldier had reared up out of its hiding place and blasted Hanzo off his feet, along with Tracer, the time-traveling, hyperactive poster child of the new Overwatch, right into one of Symmetra’s teleporters.

Hanzo attributed the sudden silence and abrupt change of scene to the teleporter. The only place there could be this many cherry blossoms was on the castle grounds, so they were evidently not in Kanazaka any longer.

So he could afford to lie here for a little while before he finally got up and made the long trip back down the hill and find Genji.

“Well, well! What do we have here?”

Hanzo started at the familiar voice, his eyes widening, but no…that was impossible.

“Another drunkard left behind after the Golden Week crowds, huh? You’d better get up, old man. The Shimada family may open the grounds to the public out of the goodness of their hearts, but most of them aren’t as laid back and…forgiving as…I am…”

There was a moment of silence…charged silence, as Hanzo felt eyes rake up and down his body.

“Hey there.”

Hanzo sat up with a jolt when someone crouched beside him, and the sight was as impossible as the sound: Genji.

Young, unscarred, fully flesh, looking down at him while licking his lips.

Seductively.

“G…” Hanzo started to say, breathless, astounded, shocked to the core.

Then he picked his jaw off the floor, clicked his mouth closed, and scowled, because the answer came to him in a flash.

He was dreaming. The blast hadn’t thrown him into the teleporter after all; it had thrown him into a wall and he had suffered a major head trauma and he was hallucinating-slash-dreaming.

It took him a moment to realize what was happening because Genji, young, whole, untouched, hadn’t appeared in his dreams since the real Genji, with every mark Hanzo had carved into him, had dropped out of the shadows and back into his life.

Before then, however, he had appeared often enough…and wearing that exact expression, exuberant, confident, and utterly shameless as his lively eyes traveled up and down Hanzo’s body, lingering on his torso and arms because each muscle was outlined by his skintight, longsleeved compression shirt.

He licked his lips again, in that characteristic way that always forced Hanzo’s eyes to watch the perfect lines of his mouth.

“Well, oji-san,” Genji said in a voice so low it was nearly a growl. “I don’t think the guards know you’re here. What will you do if they find you?”

Hanzo’s hackles immediately raised at the word oji-san. This was the Genji who would have rejected him if he had confessed his feelings long ago, precisely because he wasn’t an oji-san.

And this Genji knew that, because this was a dream and Hanzo’s subconscious delighted in torturing him at every opportunity.

And indeed, Genji smiled teasingly at Hanzo’s deepening scowl. “Oh, yes,” he drawled. “Lucky for you, I think I could be convinced to help you out a little, if you were to do me a little…favor.”

And Genji reached out to trace his finger down Hanzo’s arm.

Hanzo snorted.

One of these dreams, huh? he thought as he watched Genji waggle his eyebrows suggestively.

Fine, then. If even Dream Genji preferred DILFs, then he’d get one.

“O-oy!”

Hanzo surged up to his feet and, grabbing Genji by the shirt, hoisted him to his feet and slammed Genji harshly against the nearest tree, causing the blossoms above them to quiver.

Normally, he had enough propriety not to kiss his little brother out in the open.

Here, though…

“Mmf!” Genji tried to shout past Hanzo’s lips, but like so many times before, he struggled for only a moment or two before his eyes rolled back and his lips and mouth and body relaxed under Hanzo’s, and Hanzo permitted himself a thrill of triumph as he sought to get a taste of this Genji, the one who had enraptured him for so long.

He tasted shockingly similar to how Genji tasted now, despite everything…

But reality bleeding into his dreams was to be expected. Hanzo had always been overwhelmingly practical, so that even when he was lucid dreaming and had the power to do literally anything he wanted, he was content with Genji’s soft lips under his own, with Genji’s skin under his hands as they roved under his shirt, and with Genji’s sigh, so relaxed, so accepting of this oji-san version of his older brother sticking his tongue down his throat and pinching and tweaking his nipples and pressing the whole length of their bodies together…but only for a moment.

Then Hanzo was sliding down, breaking the wet kiss even as Genji chased after him, before his little brother gave up and threw his head back and let out another long sigh as Hanzo pressed kisses to his throat and to the swell of muscle underneath his shirt until his knees hit and ground and he was facing the bulge in Genji’s short shorts.

He deftly unbuttoned and unzipped them and was not the least bit surprised when Genji’s heavy cock fell out, uncontained by any underwear.

And Hanzo drew in a long, indulgent sniff, filling his lungs with Genji, before he opened his mouth and effortlessly let Genji slide past his lips and tongue and straight into his throat.

“Fuck!” Genji yelped, his hands clamping onto Hanzo’s head, his fingertips curling into his graying hair. “Fuck! Fuck!”

Hanzo would have chuckled if Genji weren’t blocking his airway.

Then he would have sneezed, since Genji’s pubic hair was tickling his nose.

But he managed to suppress it as he drew back, hearing Genji’s breath catch as he stopped to nurse right on the head of his cock, drinking in the precum that was all but spurting out.

Then he laid his hands over Genji’s, still fisted in his hair, looked up at his little brother, and nodded.

Genji was impetuous, self-assured, and most of all, intense when he had been this young.

Dark lust dimmed Genji’s eyes.

His grip tightened.

And he slammed his cock back into Hanzo’s throat.

Hanzo would have sighed in utter contentment, if…

As it was, he had to steal what gulps of air he could in the split seconds of freedom, between the brutal slams of his little brother’s cock into the warm, slick, tight confines of his DILF older brother, so pleased to have found such the perfect little cocksleeve he’d always needed.

Hanzo started to make obscene and wet noises every time his airway was clear because he knew the fire it would set in Genji’s blood, the carnal conflagration, the absolute need to fuck and pound into that welcoming mouth until he shot his boiling load straight down into Hanzo’s stomach.

Genji shuddered and thrust Hanzo’s face into his pelvis, burying his nose into his pubes one last time, and Hanzo was a practical man; all he wanted was to be this close to Genji, with Genji’s length pulsing in his mouth and throat, and Genji’s heat blooming and burning all the way down to his core.

Black spots danced in his vision and his fingers tingled and his blood screamed for oxygen, but nothing could come between him and this most intimate moment that he craved more, much more than air.

It was Genji who eventually drew back and allowed Hanzo to suck in a long, deep breath.

Then Genji reached down and tilted his wet, drool-covered bearded chin up and they locked gazes for a few endless moments, simply staring, with Hanzo panting, open-mouthed with red lips, and Genji had something akin to worship in his eyes.

Once Hanzo had caught his breath, Genji tugged him back to his feet and kissed him, gently, licking over his sensitive lips.

And with his free hand, he pushed those short shorts to the floor and stepped out of them.

And he pulled Hanzo forward.

And he unbuttoned and shoved Hanzo’s trousers down just enough to free his weeping, rockhard erection.

And he urged Hanzo to press forward harder, to press Genji firmly against the tree trunk, and to support his weight as he wrapped his legs around Hanzo’s hips.

And he guided one of Hanzo’s hands down and under the curve of his perfectly muscled, round ass…

…to the soft flared rubber handle of a buttplug.

Hanzo chuckled into Genji’s mouth as he tugged on it.

This really was a dream come true.

Then he swallowed Genji’s moans as he slowly, excruciatingly slowly, pulled it out, stretching Genji’s rim until it popped free.

And Hanzo tossed it aside and lined up his cock with Genji’s loose, lubed, and welcoming entrance and drove in as deeply and easily as Genji had driven into his throat.

“Ah!” Genji cried out, breaking their kiss.

He sounded so sweet that Hanzo didn’t resume it; instead, he latched onto the side of his neck, sucking and raking his teeth and mouthing and licking as he gently rocked in and out of Genji, as gentle now as he had been the first time they’d made love, because Genji was the wild and ferociously free brother who wanted to bust his nut into his devastatingly handsome older brother and mark him as his as quickly as possible, and Hanzo was the practical and patient brother, and he wanted the slick, velvety heat of his little brother around his cock for as long as possible.

“Ah! Ah!”

Genji sounded wonderful. Divine.

He sounded almost as good as he felt.

So hot, so smooth, so perfect, molding around him as though he was made to be the lock to Hanzo’s key, his body parting and opening to Hanzo’s gentle yet insistent nudging and chasing after him as he glided out, and Hanzo felt like he had all the time in the world, here under the cherry blossoms, to work his way gradually up to his pinnacle, the smell of his and Genji’s sweat and arousal slowly intensifying and combining, their breaths getting increasingly ragged with Hanzo’s being particularly raspy in his abused throat, a constant reminder of the contrast between their radically different yet complementary styles.

“O-Oji-san,” Genji panted, right when Hanzo was on the edge.

“Say my name, Genji,” Hanzo bit out harshly, teetering.

Genji blinked rapidly.

Then, slowly, “H…”

Hanzo paused and waited.

“H…Han…Hanzo…” Genji breathed.

“Again,” Hanzo ordered.

“Hanzo.”

“Again.”

“Hanzo!” he yelped as Hanzo bucked his hips, burying himself balls-deep in the first abrupt movement he had made since crushing their lips together at the beginning of this sweet, teasing dream.

“Again, Genji,” Hanzo panted. “Never stop.”

“Hanzo! Hanzo!”

He followed the rhythm Genji set with his name, spearing up into him and punching that sweet call out of his little brother…

“Hanzo! Hanzo! Hanz…ah!”

…until he felt Genji’s hot essence erupt between them, soaking their clothes, seeping in to wet their skin, as Genji again shuddered and trembled all around him.

He drove in one last time, seeking to surround himself with Genji as much as possible.

“Genji,” he hissed as he flooded into his precious little brother, painting him, filling him, marking him as his, as he always was, as he always would be, as his cock throbbed and his nerves sang and the need he had to unite with his brother, to always be united with him, was sated…again…for a little while.

His orgasm slowly tapered off, leaving him as content as he had learned was only possible when he was here, in Genji, buried in him and covered with him and holding him both deep inside and in his arms.

He bent his knees and lowered them both to the ground. When the motion eventually popped him out of Genji’s sloppy, red entrance, Hanzo returned the gentle favor Genji had bestowed on him by lifting his hips, nearly bending him in half, and burying his face in Genji’s musky valley and laving his tongue over the red skin, licking up the errant white ropes of cum leaking out until Genji managed to wink closed and keep the rest deep within him, where it belonged.

Then he lowered Genji’s hips to the ground, his legs splayed on either side of him, and they just looked at each other silently for a few moments, breathing slowly, the smell of sex heavy around them.

Genji suddenly smiled, lopsidedly, and opened his mouth.

There was a flash of white light.

And Hanzo slammed against a wall.

“Oof!” Tracer grunted alongside him, and then, with a flash of blue light, she was gone and suddenly thirty feet away, on her feet, uninjured, and flashing away, firing into the rogue Omnic’s sides with her pistols.

Hanzo laid on the ground, nearly catatonic with whiplash and confusion.

What…?

And suddenly Genji was there, all sleek and white and metallic with his cybernetics, crouching beside him…

…tucking his flaccid penis back into his trousers and buttoning him up…

…then gathering him into his arms and running, carrying him to safety and the warm glow of Mercy’s healing staff.

Later, hours later, when the battle was over and the sun had long since set and Hanzo was as well as circumstances permitted, he went in search of Genji.

He found him on the rooftop, gray against the night sky.

They stood side-by-side for a moment, looking up at the stars.

Hanzo turned to Genji, opening his mouth to speak…

…but Genji was already pushing him down to his knees.

Hanzo let out a little annoyed huff, but he supposed they could talk later.

For now, he simply kept his mouth open.

#shimadacest #older hanzo younger genji #hanzo shimada #genji shimada #requests #my stories #anon #hangen #identity p*rn

17 notes · View notes