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bigtedbear · 11 months ago

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“ 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐝𝐨 “

𝐩𝐫𝗼𝗺𝐩𝐭 : 𝐲𝐚𝐧! 𝐚𝐲𝐚𝐭𝗼 𝗼𝐫𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝗺𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐩𝗼𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐮𝐧𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫

Content warnings: dubcon to marriage, sexual coercion, hatefucking, yandere themes, breeding kink, marriage kink if thats a thing???, nsfw content 𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈 𝟏𝟖+, gay sex, anal sex, anal penetration, oral sex (reader receiving), spanking, choking, hair pulling, unsafe sex (wont get sick if you wrap your dick)

Another fair warning, if you're here from my Dan Heng fic, this is a lot more intense/dark and emotional than the last one

My inner angst writer shone through in it, if you want to skip down to juicy parts and skip said angst, there's going to be a different bracket to denote where the steamy activity starts.

“ new contact noted! caller 𝚔𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚊𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚢𝚊𝚝𝚘 has been added to your phonebook! - love, 𝑜𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑎𝑡𝑜𝑟 𝑡-19 “

"Lord Kamisato, it's been quite a while since we've last spoken."

Komore Teahouse was somewhere that reminded you of your childhood, something far in the past. It was a little home away from home, your father and the Yashiro Commissioner of your childhood would be here for meetings. You would listen in on all the important details, but terminology and code words would fly over your head. The pleasant smell of tea would hang in the air while you sat, quietly and obediently without so much as lifting your hand to grab one of the many sweets strewn on the table. Instead, you'd train your eyes on the floor in front of you, fold your hands in your lap, and focus on your breathing.

There was almost always another little boy that would join in on tea time, just a couple months younger. Soft looking baby blue hair fell over his shoulder, bright eyes to match. The Commissioner would softly pet his head when your father would compliment him on his manners. Papa, as you affectionately called him in your younger years, would give a smile that would light up the room when the former Lord Kamisato would return the favor. He always took your little hand in his bigger, scarred one and he'd give it a little squeeze.

The first time your fathers left the room, the boy said his name was Ayato.

Yet, you couldn't recognize the man in front of you as that 'Ayato'.

There was a polite smile stretched across his lips as he took his seat in front of you, the smell of Sakura Blossoms choking the aroma of tea leaves that painted the room in a nostalgic light. "There's no need to be so formal, we've known each other since we were children."

Your grip on your cup tightened, though your facial expression remained relaxed. "I suppose we have." You brought the fine china to your lips to take a languid sip before gently resting it on the table. "What do you want from me?"

The same cursedly beautiful baby blue eyes darkened when they met yours, something someone who didn't know him better wouldn't have picked up on. "Is it so strange for me to invite my best friend out for tea when I finally have the time?"

Your lips twitched downwards, displeased. "Don't try to paint me as some villain, you don't request formal meetings unless you need something."

His grin remained placid, serene, and yet it grew more strained. The tension at the corners of his lips gave way to the bitter disappointment beneath his carefree façade. His fingers came to gently rest on his thighs, the quiet drag of his sleeves on the floor cutting through the silent wall of displeasure that seemingly split the room in two. "You don't seem to respond to any of my invitations otherwise."

Your lips pursed, you found it hardly necessary to hide your animosity for him.

"Would you believe me if I said I missed seeing you?"

To this, your dry laugh cut through the air. Hands balling into fists on your lap, you pushed them into your legs as a reminder to keep your wits about you. "I wouldn't be surprised in the slightest. You've never been one to be play fair."

You caught a speck of hurt in his eyes, but it vanished as quickly as it appeared. Instead, his hand wrapped gingerly around the handle of the kettle, pouring himself a cup of tea. "Your tongue is still as sharp as ever."

"You act as if you're innocent, Commissioner," fists lightly curling the fabric of your own intricate kimono bottoms, "I don't recall any kind of apology for anything you've done."

To this, he didn't answer.

The silence hung in the air like a veil of fog.

The next thing to interrupt said silence was his gloved hand wrapping his fingers around the rim of his teacup and bringing it to his lips.

You let out a low huff, "I'll only ask again once, Ayato, what is it you want from me?"

He took a moment to answer, holding the delicate glass in his hand. He stared into the amber liquid as if searching for a script in the ripples created by the barely noticeable tremble in his arm.

His next words drifted past his lips like a ghost, just barely above a whisper.

"Your hand in marriage."

...

"...I beg your pardon?"

His eyes lifted from his tea finally, eyes swirling in anticipation. "I said, I want your hand in marriage."

You gave a laugh of disbelief, eyebrows curling in offended dissolution. "No, no-" Your hands raised to rest on the corners of the table. You went to use it as a crutch to help you stand up. "Absolutely not, the audacity of you to suggest such a thing is baffling and outright-"

You cut yourself off in favor of shaking your head, beginning to stand up.

His hand twitched towards your retreating form, "Take a moment to consider it-"

"What is there to consider?!" You snapped, "You've ruined so many business opportunities for my family and suddenly, you think you have the right to demand that from me?"

He looked up at you from his seat, slamming his cup on the table with enough fervor for the tea to splash out from the rim of the glass. "I did it for your own good-"

"Just because it meant promising others my hand in marriage didn't mean that my family didn't need it, you selfish, selfish, conniving-" You wanted to continue, but you cut yourself off for the sake of trying to keep your relationship as cordial as possible. Instead, you let out an indignant huff. With another infuriated groan, "You of all people should understand that I have more things to worry about than my own happiness!"

He tried to call your name, pathetically, acting like he hadn't done anything wrong in the slightest, "I never let your family suffer for losing those proposals, I always made sure you were taken care of by the Commission-"

"Does that change the fact that you're selfish and conniving Ayato?" You accused, hands balling into fists once again. "Why is it you think I would be willing to be married to a man who's proven he can't be trusted over and over again if it means he gets what he wants?"

You spied the wounds you'd torn open in the way his lips were pressed into a thin line, the inner corner of his eyebrows curving upwards. His eyes flitted between the two of yours, interpreting the brewing cascade of hatred that ebbed and flowed through your irises. "Because I love you, I've loved you since the day I met you and you'll never find a man who will love you in your entirety as much as I do."

Your jaw tensed as you swallowed a glob of saliva down your throat. With it, you swallowed a few choice words that would've exploded from your throat like a firecracker. "Love won't feed my family, Ayato. Love will not uphold my family's legacy. Love won't erase the fake sincerity you showed me the day you tried to kill the woman I was supposed to marry on our wedding day-"

"You don't have a choice."

You froze when your eyes met his hardened expression.

"What in archons' name are you talking about?"

You could see the column of his throat move as he swallowed. "You should sit down."

You grit your teeth, "No, I want to know what the hell you're talking about."

...

"Our marriage has long been anticipated by the public," He started, hand wrapping around his teacup. It didn't seem like he had any intent to actually take a drink of it, instead he occupied himself with swirling it around. "Your family is reliant on the internal affairs of Inazuma, it would be of great importance to your clan's longevity to get their foot in the door of the Yashiro Commission."

You narrowed your eyes at him, "And?"

He continued to avoid eye contact, eyes trained on the spinning whirlpool of tea. "Your family has long wanted to ask for either my own or Ayaka's hand, but believed they weren't in any standing to make a political climb that drastic. Specifically, your father hoped we'd set up some kind of engagement when we were young, but my father passed away before it could be finalized."

You felt your blood run cold.

You realized what he was insinuating with a violent shiver traveling up your spine. Your words were slow and drawn out, your voice dimming as you admitted the fatal flaw in your argument.

"You could secure a marriage without my input anyways."

His eyes finally lifted to meet yours, "I wanted to ask you first."

You could feel yourself trembling with anger, but instead of snapping at him, you let out a shaky scoff. "I was right, you haven't changed at all." You pushed a hand through your hair, "No, actually, I take that back, you're even worse than I remember. You always promised me you would put me and my family's comfort first, but now you're-" You started laughing, cold and ugly.

This time, he was the one to snap at you, "I didn't expect you to be so willing to give yourself away to someone else!" He stood up to be nearly eye to eye with you. "I was the one that grew up with you, I was the one that was there for you when your mother passed, I was the one that you swore your loyalty to when we were younger-"

"Shut up, shut up, shut up, Ayato!"

"NO!" He stepped in closer, elegantly maneuvering around the table. "Do you not want to remember all the time we were each other's one and only? Do you not want to remember when I promised to marry you? Do you-"

"That was before you tried to kill someone!" You took a step back from him, your voice cracking at what you could only dub the worst moment. "You're a psychopath and as much as my father wants to pretend it wasn't you who set it up, you still sent her into critical condition! You- You-"

He stepped closer to you, reaching out to try to pry your hands away from your face, he said your name with such desperation he almost sounded like he was the victim.

"Get off of me!" You pushed him away from you by the chest, only growing more upset with just how little space it made for you. You wanted him in the pits of hell, and yet he was still in this beautiful little teahouse.

"Kamisato Ayato, even if I have to marry you, I swear to all of Celestia above who hear me, for as long as I live, I will never love you!"

"You don't mean that."

His words hung in your conscious like a parasite. Clinging to the inside of your dome and following you around as a hidden stowaway. You would've been amused if this was some kind of villain in those light novels, but this was Ayato. This was the Yashiro Commissioner, Lord Kamisato, whichever title he preferred. He held so much power over your life and your family's legacy you had to take his word as gospel and the conversation was one of the many things you had to transcribe in this holy text.

By the time Ayato formally proposed the alliance to your father, you'd come to terms with the fact you would have no chance to escape him. You'd spoken to the man you'd been informally courting all this time, someone you'd planned to spend the rest of your life with just a few short weeks ago. You broke the singular heart the two of you had shared, that beat in time with one another. Now Ayato had to honor of stomping on its remains as your paramour watched you get married to the man you'd claimed to despise.

"Kazuha." You greeted.

You tried to hide the sorrow and longing laden in your gaze, but you could tell by the way he returned the same look back to you that any and all attempts were a miserable failure. He called your name softly, the same manner of greeting. This was supposed to be the reception of your wedding, a time of joy and celebration, yet all you could feel was a bitterness fester in the pit of your stomach.

Why?

You asked yourself this over and over again. Why must you have let all those silly promises to Ayato slip past your lips when you were younger? Why must he have turned out to be as ruthless and dishonest as he was now?

Why did you have to let go of happiness you thought was finally in your grasp?

The poet's voice felt wispy, light and refreshing, but also laced with pity. It sounded like what a weeping willow looked like when it hit your ears, "Congratulations on your joyous union."

Your voice was equally as soft as you looked at him, "Thank you."

You thanked him, but not for his congratulations. You thanked him for his understanding.

You could tell he understood your implication when he delicately questioned, "How is it that you and Lord Kamisato decided to finally be wed?"

Your expression softened, finally letting the strained smile you'd forced yourself to wear the entire day falter just a little bit. "Everyone around us knew it would happen sooner or later. Had the former Yashiro Commissioner not regretfully passed, Lord Kamisato and I would have been wed the morning the both of us were eighteen."

He hummed, holding up the small glass of sake he was nursing since the beginning of the reception just the slightest as an invitation, "I see... would you care for a toast? For all of the memories two created along the way?"

It was not for the memories you created with Ayato, you realized, but all the memories you created with him. Something akin to a final goodbye.

The smile returned to your face, genuine this time. You couldn't see it, but your eyes shone with adoration as you responded quietly, "Of course." Kazuha's own heart was swelling with a woeful passion. But his own smile remained on his features when the two of you clinked your glasses together and took a long swig of the alcohol.

The air was peaceful, beautifully comforting. It was something you'd longed to feel since your hopes and dreams had been carelessly extinguished by who you used to believe was your closest childhood companion.

The atmosphere immediately dropped when the sound of a familiar voice drifted into the small, semi-secluded area you'd found yourself in to steal just a few more moments with your former lover. It drifted in like a phantom, automatically killing the mood despite it's subtlety.

"Am I interrupting something?"

You did your best not to scowl, but you failed to stop your lips from pressing into a thin line. Kazuha noticed the tension immediately. He'd always been the more perceptive of the two of you anyways. "Lord Kamisato, I wished to congratulate a good friend on a delightful marriage. I hope I didn't steal him away from the festivities for too long."

Despite his light-hearted laugh, you could tell Ayato was unhappy. "No worries, Lord Kaedehara, but if you'd be so kind, the day has been rather hectic. I haven't had the chance to enjoy a moment alone with my husband."

Kazuha had wanted to stay in an attempt to help you once last time, always putting you first. Perhaps he could've prevented any tense conversations in front of guests. It seems his last act of love had failed. "...Ah, I suppose I'll be taking my leave then."

Ayato looped his hand to hang onto your bicep, a much more content smile gracing his features as he watched the familiar silhouette disappear into the crowd once more. Once the two of you were alone, he turned his attention to you.

"I didn't want to demand anymore from you, but it still wounds me when my husband chooses to spend his time with another man the day of our wedding."

His smile still looked as radiant as it had when the two of you were standing before the altar, but once again, you could see the swirling and darkening displeasure in his eyes.

You scoffed, painting a similar smile on your features. His mood seemed to lighten just the slightest bit, however his hopes were dashed when your words were harsh and cold. "Spare me, I don't want to spend more time with you than I must."

He gave what looked to onlookers like a playful squeeze to your bicep, but his words were equally callous, "Humor me, I've finally caught you and despite all my devotion you act as though you hate me."

You leaned in close to his ear, pretending to whisper a fond secret. You wanted to watch him struggle to keep the smile on his face when you told him the thing that always seemed to hurt him the most throughout the course of wedding planning.

"I'm not acting, if you need me to spell it out, I do hate you."

"You're leaving?"

You turned back to the luxurious futon, Ayato sitting on one side of it. He looked serene, angelic in his sleeping yukata. He had the covers pulled over his legs and his hands folded in his lap. Picturesque, you admitted in your head begrudgingly.

"What did you expect?" Your own yukata hung off your frame loosely, having been hastily put on. Your arm was wrapped around the belt, making sure that at the very least you would be decent while you were walking through the halls of the estate you were now hopelessly confined to.

His brows were furrowed, confused, panicked. His hand came to rest on what should have been your side of the futon with a frown, "It's late, where are you going?"

You huffed, turning your back to him again and going to slide open the door to your shared bedroom. "I'm tired, I'm going to sleep."

His voice took on a displeased undertone, one hand fisting the covers strewn across his lap. "The futon is here, where else would you sleep?"

You shook your head, "I'm going to my study, don't bother waiting up for me. I won't be returning until the sun breaks." Your hand found the dark and smooth treated wood of the door. Just as your fingers went to pry it open, you noted the sound of shuffling with dismay.

His hand was ghosting over your shoulder in moments, "If not every night, then at least for tonight could you stay? What would the attendants think if you weren't in our marital chambers the night we were married?"

You shrugged his hand off aggressively, hand pushing open the doors to your room. "If you loved me you would let me leave despite what anyone else would think, Lord Kamisato."

Both of his hands returned to both of your shoulders, fingers digging into the thin fabric. "Then would you let me be selfish and indulge me? I want to sleep next to my husband tonight."

"You keep calling me your husband. We may be married but I don't love you, can you respect my wishes this once?" Your hand was like a constrictor around his wrist, tugging his greedy palms off of you. You tried to erase the sight of your wedding band glinting in the low light as you did so.

"You can ask for anything else, but this is something I'm not willing to compromise on." He didn't let up, your fist still wrapped around his arm. "We are married, not only is it improper for you to sleep anywhere else, it's especially improper for you to leave on the night of the wedding. We still haven't fulfilled all of our obligations to officiate the marriage-"

"For her excellency's sake, get your hands off of me!" You cursed, all but shoving him away. "You are lucky I was raised a man of honor or you wouldn't be getting anything out of me, you greedy snake."

He returned your anger with venom of his own, "And what, pray tell, do you mean by that?"

You occupied yourself with properly tying on your Yukata, "You are lucky I choose to be faithful to you, to forsake all others, should you have picked any other unlucky victim they would most likely be running off with their own mistress-"

"If you're still thinking about someone else when you put your ring on my finger, you clearly aren't a man of honor!" He bit back.

You narrowed your eyes at him, tightening the knot on your clothing. "You are so incredibly lucky that Kazuha didn't deserve to be some mistress. He deserves so much more than to be some dirty little secret I kept in my pocket for the rest of his life-"

Baby blue seemed to pierce through your defenses, the clear hurt, but also vindictive anger shining pure and unadulterated back at you. "I am the one that you married, and yet all you think about is him. If you think doing the bare minimum of not inviting someone into our bed is being a man of honor, you are sorely mistaken."

You finally turned your full attention to him, ignoring your need to leave the room as quickly as possible by this point, "What more do you think you're entitled to?!" As quickly as the words tumbled out of your mouth, you shook your head, realizing you'd stepped right into his trap. "Forget it, don't disturb me again. I'm leaving."

"I wanted to have a real marriage!" He all but screamed, frustrated tears brewing in his eyes, "I wanted to carry out all the traditional rituals of newly weds. I wanted to fall asleep listening to the sound of your heart, I wanted you to treat me like more than some kind of villain-"

You sucked in a harsh breath, "You're sorely mistaken if you think a ceremony and a ring would erase everything you've-"

"For fuck's sake, I wanted to feel like you loved me again." His tears streamed down his cheeks, "I wanted to feel you hold me underneath the moonlight like lovers do in all those silly light novels you made me read, I wanted to go to sleep surrounded by the knowledge that I was married to the love of my life."

Your jaw hung, slack at his confession. "You can't possibly mean-"

His hands were balled into fists at his sides, "Yes," he breathed through the quake of his voice, "I wanted to consummate the marriage tonight. I thought at the very least you'd want to get it over with."

You stared at him in utter disbelief, abject horror written all over your features. To think he would demand something so intimate out of you without considering your feelings was another level of detached from reality you had the inability to understand. You shook your head, opting not to respond.

His voice came out like a whisper, "Am I really so repulsive to you? I was rather sought after when I was a bachelor. If nothing else, I'm attractive. Do you hate me so much you couldn't put it aside for one night just to fulfill the obligations of a real marriage?"

"Don't talk to me, Ayato." You turned your back on him for the last time that night, finally stepping out of the room and closing the door behind you.

Your eyes shot up when the door to your office opened.

You hadn't been expecting any visitors today, so imagine your dismay when your husband walked through the door. In all of his well-maintained, elegant glory, there was a small smile stretching across his cheeks.

It had been a few months since your wedding, since then, you also had not slept in the same bed, eaten any meals together, nor did you take particular interest in the innerworkings of the Yashiro Commission in its entirety. No, you largely kept away from anything that had anything to do with Ayato. You were still nice to everyone else in the house though. After all, you hadn't been raised in a barn. You were a proud heir to a business that reached far and wide, you kept your manners in tact no matter the situation.

Usually, your day consisted of waking up at the very crack of dawn, back on fire. You slept in your study on the floor with a blanket, much to the dismay of Thoma. He had come to take care of you just as much as he took care of Ayato and Ayaka, viewing you as an extension of the family. Despite all of Thoma's begging, Ayato refused to purchase another futon for you, claiming you had a perfectly functional one you could be using. In your stubborn little argument, you too, refused to order yourself a futon.

Sure, your quality of sleep had declined, but you still had your pride in tact.

Despite being awake so early, you never caught Thoma off guard. In fact, he would be quick to enter the room with some tea and a fresh set of clothing he'd managed to weasel past a sleeping Ayato. Usually, if Thoma got caught trying to bringing you your clothing in the morning, Ayato would stop him and tell him your legs weren't broken and you could get your clothing yourself. You would drink your tea, Thoma would leave the room, and you'd dress yourself. Thoma would offer you breakfast, you'd take a small offering out of courtesy, and then you'd disappear off to your office to help run the business with your father.

In the afternoon, you would usually come home and find Ayaka. Seeing as she was your sister-in-law and someone you'd also grown up with, you enjoyed making pleasant conversation and catching up. As soon as Ayato returned from whatever duties had taken him away from the manor, you would slink off to your study. Thoma would bring you your dinner when you'd refuse to leave your brooding room, you'd eat. You'd change into the sleep attire you kept in your study, fall asleep on the ground, repeat cycle.

It was just like Ayato to throw a wrench into your perfectly crafted schedule.

"Commissioner... to what do I owe the pleasure?" the words flowed past your lips reluctantly, a special flavor of vitriol hand in hand with each syllable.

He seated himself in front of your desk, taking note of the seeming mountains of paperwork. The sight wasn't unfamiliar to him either. All the more reason for this visit to set alarm bells ringing in your mind. "Come now, that's hardly the way to address your husband, dearest."

You see now why he left the door to your office open. For fear of frightening your subordinates, you played along. "I mustn't forget my place, love, after all, we are in public."

Even though the word was strained, you could see his smile pull just the slightest bit up his cheeks upon hearing the pet name. "Who would dare question you returning you husband's affections? Do tell, I'll make sure the full might of the Yashiro Commission will come down upon them."

You gave a playful chuckle back at him, fully embracing the self-loathing that came with it as you pushed yourself up from your seated position. You took careful steps to the door, pretending you wanted to get some alone time with your so-called lover. "You spoil me."

"It is only natural, is it not?" He smiled, allowing himself to pretend this was the truth of his marriage. Oh, how he loved to make you squirm.

You couldn't shut the door fast enough.

Once, the two of you were guaranteed to be away from the prying eyes of others, you took your seat at your desk again. You picked up your brush, scanning over the writings in front of you. "Why are you here?"

"Is it so wrong for a man to want to visit his other half?"

You grit your teeth, doing your best to bite back the invectives you wanted to badly to hurl in his direction. "You certainly haven't visited me before."

He waved it off, "We've only been wed for a few months, surely you understand the difficulties of responsibility and obligation."

"Ayato," you warned, "-don't toy with me. I am well aware you have some kind of motive for pushing your work aside. Get on with it."

He pursed his lips, "If my motive was just to invite you out to lunch?"

You knuckles whitened in their grip on your brush, "Cute, now tell me why you're really here."

He sighed, readjusting his sitting position. "I suppose it can't be helped, you've known me for far too long."

For once, you agreed with him. "Indeed."

Ayato seemed to swallow spit down his throat, "I want a divorce."

You paused, brush stopping on your page. Your eyes met his, shocked. In all your time knowing him, he had never been one to surrender his prizes when he finally got his hands on them. This revelation only prompted one question to tumble past your lips. "What's the catch?"

"Divorce wouldn't look good on either of our families, but I'm afraid your family will bear the brunt of the backlash." His finger delicately traced circles on the top of your desk. "Failed engagements aren't the best omen to a family's prosperity. Not only this, a failed marriage that is revealed to have been begun on false pretenses would only further shatter the credibility of your family's business."

You cursed under your breath, pressing your free hand's fingertips on your temple. "State your demands."

He seemed almost giddy that his bluff had paid off. His face lit up with this boyish delight that had your stomach twisting in a woeful knot.

"Simple, I want to spend tomorrow night as lovers."

Despite your attempts to draw out your work for the day, ultimately you still had to return to the large estate that was now your home. Instead of taking a left turn in the long corridor to your study, you swallowed the spit in your mouth and walked further down the hall to what was technically supposed to be your bedroom.

You wanted to try and work as late as possible, hoping Ayato would already be asleep by the time you returned home. You could make the excuse that you were much too busy to consider being intimate, but much to your dismay, he had waited for you to get home. This was the first time in months you'd willingly entered the room, and yet, every inch of it was burned into your memory.

Right down to the man sitting awake and alert in the middle of the futon.

As soon as he heard the door open, his eyes were on you in an instant. Not even a second later, he was on his feet, slinking towards the doorway. You shoved the brewing grimace back down into your gut and away from actually making itself known on your features. Instead, you let your expression remain neutral as he rested his hands on the collar of your clothing. "You're here."

"Did you think I was lying?" You asked, carefully, letting your own hands rest on his wrists. Instead of doing what you usually did, prying his greedy mitts off of you, you settled for just loosely holding them in place. It wasn't lost on you that Ayato was pleasantly surprised by this change of pace.

"No, you've never been a liar, dearest." He let his pet name for you roll off his tongue like honey, yet it tasted as bitter as bile when it slithered through your ear canals. "But being told what will happen is much different to actually experiencing it."

There was a calm, placid smile on his face as he reached a hand up to stroke the side of your face lovingly. He was acting as though his doting husband had come back from war, not his prisoner finally ending his little strike and returning to his little prison cell. You hadn't had any physical contact like this in months, you really hadn't realized how much you missed it. You let your eyes close and your face lean into his palm with a tired sigh.

He was practically exploding with a twisted sense of triumph while he observed. It had been so long since you had so much as looked at him. Now, you were letting him touch you, willingly. His voice came out hushed, just barely ghosting through the air. It seemed as though he hadn't wanted to ruin the moment by pressing you further, "Do you want to do this tonight? I wouldn't mind going to sleep and trying another time as long as you promise to stay here more often."

You hummed, shaking your head, "I made a promise to you, Ayato. I don't go back on my promises."

His breath hitched in his throat when you gently peeled his hand off your cheek and pressed a soft kiss to his wrist. He called your name quietly, almost as if urging you to reconsider. You wondered if it was for your sake or his own.

You didn't want to hear anymore of his protests or his complaints, so you leaned down just enough to be eye to eye with him. "Can I kiss you?"

He didn't respond verbally, sucking in a sharp breath through his nose and nodding his head quickly.

You pressed an innocent kiss to his lips, waiting a moment before pressing another one in the same spot. You lingered, noting the barely noticeable hum from your husband's throat. Your hands came to rest on his hips, carefully peeling your lips open and waiting for him to follow suit.

He was quick to take the hint, deepening the kiss and tilting his head to the side. It turned heated rather soon after, starting with a tentative swipe of your tongue against his. He rewarded you with a moan, his mouth opening wider to accommodate anything you were willing to give him.

Before you knew it, the two of you were staggering towards the futon, intertwined in one another's arms. His palm was pressing against your flaccid dick, trying to get a reaction out of you. You, on the other hand, had your grip on his hips, squeezing his love handles every now and then as encouragement or affirmation. You weren't a half-hearted lover, if you planned on doing something, you followed through to the best of your ability.

Ultimately, you came to sit on the edge of the bed, Ayato kneeled between your legs. His face was red, breathing heavily and panting. His eyes screamed with desire and twisted with passion. His own arousal was clearly between his legs, much easier to see with the thin material of his sleepwear. Still, he insisted on paying attention to you before himself.

He rested his head on the inside of your thigh, submissive and demure. You did your best to push his misdeeds out of your mind, focusing on having an attractive man's attention all to yourself. More than eager to please, he positively drank in your attention, hands coming up to pull at your waistband.

He pulled it down just enough to expose your erection to the cold air, you swallowed the hiss that threatened to burst past your lips and instead focused on brushing his hair behind his ear. You watched the pleasant shudder run through his body, his desperate hands coming to wrap around your length.

He pressed a soft kiss to the head of it, licking across the tip and paying special attention to the slit. You let out a grunt of approval, hand moving from behind his ear to tangle itself into more of his baby blue hair. His cheeks flushed an even darker blood red as he kissed the side of it this time.

"Let me take care of you tonight, darling. You've been so good to me today," he practically begged. He waited for your affirmation, needy for your encouragement. You nodded absentmindedly, eyes half-lidded as you stared down at him.

He practically moaned when he first took your cock into his mouth, the vibrations sending a pleasurable tingle up your spine. You shuddered under his attention, watching each inch disappear past his lips until he stopped abruptly and gagged. The spasm of his throat elicited another groan out of you, your eyes closing to properly register the delectable debauched feeling.

He lifted up off your dick to take a deep breath before going back down again. It was better the second time around, having the flat of his tongue caress the underside of your length. He let a good amount of saliva dribble past his lips and slide down the shaft. He used it as a lubricant as he worked to stroke what he couldn't immediately fit in his mouth. You bit your lip at the pleasant sensations.

He started to bob his head up and down slowly, most likely testing out the feeling for himself before fully putting all of his effort into it. You leaned back further onto the futon, bracing yourself on the hand that wasn't busying itself with combing through his hair. You let yourself be lost in the sensations and lewd noises of saliva and gagging. Your eyes fluttering shut as a few groans escaped your lips.

He pulled off of your length with another pornographic noise, trying to catch his breath. "Honey, please look at me." His hands continued to stroke languidly up and down as he caught his breath. "I want to see your reactions, knowing it's your husband that's making you feel good." He pressed his cheek onto the inside of your thigh again, a cheeky smile carved into his cheeks.

You opened your eyes to peer down at him, tensing your jaw as he used his thumb to toy with your slit. Even if you didn't want to admit it, you kind of had to say he knew exactly what to do when it came to handling your sex.

His smile stretched further, a beautifully sinful glaze darkening his irises as he stared into your eyes. You felt pathetic for putting your dignity aside for something as small as carnal pleasure but you couldn't stop yourself from asking him,

"Are you going to keep going?"

His eyes were on you like a starved man presented with a gourmet, luxury, full-course meal. You almost felt like you were the one getting deflowered, the one that was about to be ravaged.

Ayato laid beneath you on the futon, his appearance disheveled and the front of his yukata open so he was laid completely bare for you to see. Desire fermented in his core, and you could see it in the way his usually pale skin was painted a soft pink hue, slick with sweat. The two of you had barely done anything, and yet, he was practically begging you to continue with the way he looked into your eyes.

His fingers tugged impatiently at your own clothing, just about drooling as he watched you shed each and every layer. You leaned forward, looming over him as you indulged him with another open-mouthed kiss. His eyes and your own fluttered shut as your fingertips ghosted its way down his abdomen.

He whined into your liplock when you hands stopped just short of his ass, coming to rest on his hips. You didn't immediately give into his greedy demands to keep going, opting to give yourself a moment to steel yourself for whatever would come after this. His arms gingerly snaked their way over your shoulders and curved around your neck. One of his hands came upward to play with your hair.

Finally, you continued to trail your soft touches further down, stopping to knead the fat of his ass before continuing even lower. He positively blossomed at your careful and loving attention, vocal in his satisfaction with each and every movement you made. You pulled away from the kiss, offering him two fingers pressed against his bottom lip.

Wordlessly, he pushed your hand away, bashfully avoiding eye contact and looking down towards where the two of you would be connected momentarily. Following his gaze, your eyes widened as you realized he was already prepped beforehand.

Even if you had treated him like porcelain up until now, it didn't change the fact there was a hatred for him that took hold in your gut. You pressed another soft kiss to the side of his neck before gingerly taking the skin between your teeth.

Underneath you, he let out a sweet moan, his hand pulling at the hair on the back of your head out of reflex. You grunted against his skin. Freeing his neck from your canines. "I didn't know I married such a whore."

A whimper sounded from the back of his throat, something that'd been meant to degrade him only seemed to deliver blood rushing to his dick. It twitched against your stomach, his thighs trying to rub together despite both of your knees pinning them open.

Despite the lack of warning, you lined yourself up to his entrance and slammed yourself in to the hilt with a considerable amount of force. You relished in his choked scream as his fist nearly tore a chunk of hair from your scalp. "W-Wait, dear-"

You drew your hips back again, bucking them forward into his perineum again. He cut himself off with a squeal when you brushed past his prostate for the second time. He looked up at you drearily, confused. He went to open his mouth again, to beg you to be gentle or to go slower. But you beat him to it,

"If you want to act like a needy whore, you'll be treated like one, dear husband."

He went to protest, but he was cut off with another harsh thrust that sent him further into the futon. He whimpered pathetically as he squirmed under your gaze. He might have gotten a little carried away before you'd gotten home, but he hadn't known you'd react to it so extremely. Once he'd finally learned to keep his mouth shut, you rewarded him with another earth-shattering movement of your hips.

His thighs tried to squeeze together, but your hips were in the way. It left him largely defenseless from your onslaught on his prostate. He took in a deep breath that was promptly knocked out of him as you set a decently quick pace to start off with.

Soon enough, the room was filled with the sound of whorish whining as you battered his insides with your cock. The force of your thrusts creating a lump on his toned stomach muscles, you raked in a twisted satisfaction from his suffering as he tried desperately to adjust to the abrupt change to pace.

He called your name, hiccupping through it, "Slower- ahn~ Sl-Slower, please- hn~ I beg of yooUu-"

You didn't respond to him, ignoring him entirely as you trailed your mouth to his collarbones. You bit down harshly on one of them, sadistically aroused by the way his back arched underneath you. He keened at the abuse, eyes shutting as he allowed himself to be lost in the rhythm of your hips.

The fingers previously tangled in your hair moved to scratching down your neck with his semi-blunt fingernails. You hissed at the raised red marks that followed behind his desperate movements. While you certainly enjoyed putting him in a compromising position, you didn't care as much when he was the one inflicting pain on you.

Deciding to return his favor again, you let him believe you were going to be a little more gentle. Your hips slowed down momentarily as you trailed little butterfly kisses up the side of his neck. You allowed yourself to be proud of the explosive shiver that burst through his nervous system, even more excited to see what his next reaction would be.

You sucked a light red mark into his jawline before grinding the skin between your teeth, speeding up your hips exponentially. There was a pleasant satisfaction that settled over your body as the one you were fucking into the bed seized up in an silent scream. His back arched into a beautiful curve, almost as though trying to run from the hand pressed against the small of his back, but begging for more as it pressed into your chest.

A few short seconds later, his pitchy moan ripped through the air as his legs pulled up closer to his chest and his toes curled. However, you didn't let up, only further fueled on by his intense reaction. If he thought you were going as fast as you could before, he was sorely mistaken as you picked up the pace once again.

You used the hand on his back to push him into your own muscular chest, the bump on his stomach protruding not only from his abdomen muscles, but now having the added pressure of your stomach on top of it. His own cock was pressed between your two bodies, the sweat sticking to your skin making the slide comfortable.

It wasn't long before Ayato's nails raked down your back one more time and his squeals echoed through the room. "Cu-Cumming- ouh~ ouh~ i'm cumming, i'm cummingi'mcumming-"

His eyes crossed before rolling into the back of his skull, his lips parting in another shriek before coating both of your stomachs in his spend.

Despite enjoying watching him suffer, you slowed your hips and rocked him through his high tenderly. His arms dropped from around your neck, resting his forearm over his eyes as he tried to catch his breath. He shuddered as you continued to slowly move, the sweet burn of overstimulation coursing through his entire body like some kind of poison.

"D-Darling, I just came- mmhh~ p-please, spare meee~"

You gently grasped his wrist to pull his arm away from his face. Despite the sweet smile on your features, he could tell from the wicked glee swirling in your pupils that you had no intention to allow him a moment to rest.

You tenderly brushed your lips over the pulse point on his wrist, watching him shiver as you continued to slowly move your hips. "Ah, but sweetheart, you were the one begging me to spend the night together as lovers." You intertwined your fingers with his as you gave a light-hearted chuckle,

"I'm simply giving you what you want."

"D-DeArehest- Ahnnn~"

Ayato couldn't do anything besides pathetical rest his upper half against the soft futon as you basically fucked the daylights out of him. His eyes had long rolled up into the back of his head, the number of times he'd spilled across the bedspread had gone uncounted past the second. Having already been filled up once, the second round of sex was arguably even more torturous as the overstimulation curling outwards from his gut turned from pleasant tingling all over the body to violent bursts coursing through his nerves.

In response to Ayato's pathetic call for your attention, you grabbed a fistful of his silvery blue hair, pulling him off of the mattress to preserve his scalp. He mewled lewdly at the sudden pain, the shame of being such a masochist pooling in the bottom of his gut.

Teasingly, you answered from behind him, continuing to pound his now limp body into the mattress. "Yes, my treasured husband?" You'd figured out you'd rather liked doggystyle, specifically because Ayato no longer had the comfort of kisses or reassuring looks from you.

Your voice had a singy-songy twang to it, obviously very pleased with the state you'd demoted him down to. His eyes were laced with tears, drool streaming down his chin with another anguished moan escaping past his abused, swollen lips. The crafty, steadfast Yashiro Commissioner turned to a pathetic, needy whore in bed. It was enough to make anyone at least a little prideful.

"P-pleaheeaseeee no mooohreeeee, mmmmhhh~"

His hands fisted the soft blankets underneath him, his voice pitifully shaky, slurred, and drawn out. His thighs trembled with each powerful thrust aimed at his rear, his arms shook and buckled from the overwhelming pleasure surging through his bloodstream. More tears streamed from his eyes as you continued to tug at his beautiful blue locks.

You clicked your tongue at him, letting go of his hair to wind your arm back before bringing your palm down across the fat of his ass. "How ungrateful, Ayato-" you grunted when he subconsciously clenched down on your length, "Your dearest has been treating you so well all night and your only thought is to be unappreciative?"

He sobbed pathetically into the pillow he'd been dropped back onto, his mind reeling in the waves of pleasure crashing through his body with each and every magical piston of your equally magical dick. "I-I'm shorrryyy- ouh~"

Your hand came down on his ass again, hissing when he tightened around you. "I should teach you how to properly appreciate when I spoil you like this."

Despite the burn of overstimulation streaking through his gut, he nodded his head frantically against the pillow, desperately seeking your validation even in what could be considered one of his weakest moments. Bent over with his ass in the air, spurting uselessly from his cock while becoming more and more aroused with each punishing spank delivered by his husband's hand.

Your pace picked up once again as the groveling mess that was your husband took its toll on you. You could feel your orgasm approaching, approaching quickly. You groaned as you pressed your chest against his arched back. "You begged me so nicely to cum inside earlier, how about you make it up to me by doing it again? Hm? You can do that for me, can't you beloved?"

He nodded against the pillow. You chuckled, grabbing him by the hair again, pulling him to be supporting himself on his palms again, his squeaks and pleas no longer muffled by the futon. It took him a few moments to full compose himself, eyes rolling to the back of his head at the sudden change of pace and position.

One hand pulling his hair, your other wrapped around his neck carefully, giving it a small warning squeeze. He keened under the added pressure, his dick throbbing painfully hard once again, smacking against his stomach.

"Pleasepleaseplease- ahahn~ come inside of me darlIHing~" He choked on his next words as your fist tightened around his trachea. He could feel himself grow lightheaded, both from the lack of oxygen, but also the mounting arousal that came with the exhilaration of knowing how much power you held over him.

The moment you eased up on the pressure, he was begging again, much more eager to keep going with your encouragement. He babbled on, lacking the ability to care less about who could hear their beloved Lord Kamisato begging for his husband's cum while being choked and spanked.

"I nehEeed your cum i- OUh~ insiHide~," With another light squeeze of his throat, he continued to spew more and more pleas. "B-Breed me pleHEasee~ Hah~ I want t-to be fuhull with y-yoUhour- Nghah~ chiHIldreennnn~"

You groaned as you finally bottomed out in him for a second time, spilling inside of him once again as he shrieked in euphoria.

When you let go of him, his front half fell into the futon, murmurs and mumbles of contentment and gratitude gushing past his lips like a broken dam. His hips only really remained upright because you were still sheathed inside.

His thighs shook like a leaf, terribly unstable as you attempted to pull out. Despite all their trembling, the moment you tried to disconnect, his hips pushed backwards into yours with a whimper.

Your features gave way to a smug grin, reaching down and lacing his fingers with yours against the pillows. "Do you not want me to pull out, Ayato?"

He sleepily shook his head, still slumped ass up face down.

"You might get a stomachache in the morning, silly boy."

He flushed a little the more you teased him, shaking his head again. He moved your hand shakily to his cheek, pressing a kiss onto each of your knuckles.

You chuckled, taking an especially excessive pleasure in watching his fucked out, blissed actions.

You had been the one to do this to him.

Even with all the power he held over you, you could still do this to him.

Perhaps...

...

...Perhaps knowing this would make your marriage to Kamisato Ayato just a little bit easier.

there's a note on the side of the phone booth, read it?

" happy gay month to the loml <3 "

THIS IS A REPOSTED WORK FROM MY ORIGINAL ACCOUNT BEFORE IT CRAPPED AND DIED ON ME

I USED TO BE FOUND AT @steadybear

I FEAR YOU WILL HAVE TO DEAL WITH SEEING @bigtedbear INSTEAD FROM NOW ON

Part 2 here: " to be lovable "

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jackiepackiee · 5 months ago

Text

Telemachus x Apollo Blessed! Reader

Chapter Two

Masterlist

Prince Telemachus who is favored by Athena with a reader who's favored by Apollo. Both under the guidance of the god and goddess of wisdom and knowledge respectively. One a fierce warrior and the other a lovely musician. Yet complete opposites of their role when it comes to a peaceful artist and intimidating opponent.

An- before you go please consider following my insta @/jackiepackiearts, enjoy!

“Again!” Athena’s voice roared over the training hall, arms crossed over her chest as her head gestured to the striking post.

It was adorned with scars of young and old. First built by Odysseus, Telemachus had found this training room when he was younger and first desperate to follow his father and be a hero.

Now aged, the wood was splintered in some sections that were easily torn by the sword.

But today? Not a single scar on the rough wood was being made. Not while Telemachus was swinging his weapon with less drive than a lamb trying to walk.

Nevertheless, he listened to his patron goddess and swung at the tall target.

Yet again… not even a chip of wood.

“Athena, I ca-” He began to protest, letting the metal tip of the blade rest on the floor.

Before he could continue, he was cut off by a sigh and strong words.

“No, you can. First part of fighting is knowing you can, or you’re sure to lose if you decide to lose.” She lectured, taking the sword from him and striking the target herself. Splinters of wood coming clean off, flying to the wall away from their abuse.

“Do you think a winner is okay with losing? No.” Continuing, she walked around the hall while putting the sword back on its stand. When she turned around from her fit, all she saw was Telemachus staring at a painted tile wall of his family.

Athena knows that image. One of Odysseus looking at his wife and son with so much love in his eyes one would think Penelope and Telemachus had hung the stars in the sky and saved Odysseus’ life time and time again.

Her reprimanding died down, unable to be harsh to the boy that stood before her. Instead she joined him, by his side while he stared at the colors on the wall that somehow formed his family. A family he didn’t know, with a love he never knew existed.

“Athena?” He asked, voice hesitant in his question.

“No, I don’t know if he’s coming back.” She spoke, sighing at the image.

“That’s not what I was asking.” He murmured. “I mean well… you’re a goddess and all. So, does love like that truly exist?”

His starry eyes stared at the beauty painting, glimmering tiles from the sun shine.

Before he could speak more of love, she formed a fist and lightly knocked his head.

“Don’t lose your sense, this is battle. You can focus on those types of issues when you can defend yourself.” She stood in front of him. Blocking his view of the painting.

He rubbed his head, squinting at her in slight annoyance.

“I’m getting there… jeez.” His hand traveled to rest on the back of his neck as he looked up at her. Almost pouting from her words.

“Back to training.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Even after his conversation with Athena, he didn’t feel at ease. She wasn’t aware of the restless nights he spent thinking of “love,” and whatever it may entail.

Times like this having a patron god who felt romantic love would be helpful…

He stood in his bedroom, looking out the window as the cool air blew in. Arms resting on the windowsill as he let his head stick out into the darkness. Moon shining onto his gold brackets he had yet to take off.

Looking to the ocean that danced in high tide, he sighed out all the air in his body. A breath he didn’t quite remember holding.

But before he could get too deep into his moping, he heard a knock.

“Come in.” He called, turning to face the guest.

Queen Penelope entered, smiling at her son as she quietly placed a piece of parchment on his desk.

“I brought you some new writing materials.” She smiled again, directly at him, before her eyes fully opened to get a look at him.

When she saw her son with slumped shoulders, tired eyes, and a far away gaze she pulled closer.

“Is something the matter?” Questioning him, she joined her hands together in front of her as she looked over him for any visible injuries.

“No mom… I’m okay.” He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes correctly and his lips fell flat.

“Was it the suitors?” Her brows pushed downward, grabbing his chin and rotating his face as she inspected for any cuts.

“No, no.” Taking a deep breath, he gently grasped her hand in his and let it down softly at her side.

“Mom… how did you know you loved dad?” Soft eyes met hers, and they looked just like his fathers. Yet more vulnerable, all the same wanting an answer. He must’ve taken his curiosity after his dad, neither ever satisfied without an answer.

“I just knew. And you’ll know too when you find the right person.” She smiled tiredly, a melancholy expression in her son's distress.

“How can you be sure? What if she doesn’t show up?” He questioned, eyes almost puppyish in their desire for help.

“You’ll find her, dear. She’ll be perfect for you, and that’s all that matters.” Her finger extends and pressed against his chest over to where his heart lived. “Do not try to find a future queen or the most beautiful girl, find the one you love.”

She smiled at him with tired eyes. Voided as she spoke of love. All she could hope was her son would find the love she once knew years ago.

“But you and dad are perfect together from what I’ve heard! How can I live up to that… to him?” His gentle eyes traveled upward to meet his mothers, squinting with nothing but desire for an answer.

Who would ever have an answer for something as abstract as love?

“You mustn’t try to live up to anything.” She took his head into her hands, curly hair brushed by her nails. “You’ll know. In here,” she pointed at his head, “and here.” And again pointed at his chest.

She pulled him into her chest as she sat on the edge of his bed. He rested into his mother, visibly relaxing at her comfort.

“It’s late, go to bed now.” She hummed, and he left the night behind as his eyes closed.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The queen walked down the corridor, in an area that was separated from the suitors.

It was a sort of sanctuary for servants and family, always peacefully quiet with none of that buzz from the drunk crowd.

So to hear a soft hum was surprising. Not that she would complain. Even the simple, untrained voice of a young woman kept the song utterly beautiful.

It was soft, and sounded like love of past passions.

“Gods, what is that?” Penelope muttered to herself, not able to recognize the song that sounded of love.

Before the maid could pass her fully, she turned and faced the young woman to get her answer. Inhaling, she spoke gently.

“Excuse me, what was that you were just humming?” She inquired, racking her brain for all the music she knew. Still, nothing came to mind.

The maid looked at Penelope before bowing and keeping her head low. “Just a song from the market, miss.” Biting her inner cheek, she looked back up after she gave her answer.

When she saw the queen's brows furrowed she continued.

“I'm not sure what the name of the song is. But this girl was playing it for all the children in the market, it was just lovely.” She was smiling to herself at the memory, even the thought of the song made the maids face light up.

She continued, “My queen, you would have adored it. The maiden even defended the children from a bitter man.” After realizing her rant, she piped down and went back to her state of polite shyness.

“So it’s a new song?” She questioned further, confused. How could one song sound so familiar… unless the notes aligned so well it felt nostalgic of emotions in the past.

“That’s correct, I believe.” Nodding, she looked back up to give as much information as possible.

“And maiden, you say?” Taking a step closer, her hand reached to rest of the shoulder of the maid.

“Yes, miss.”

“Walk with me, and tell me about this maiden.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

It had been a few days since his talk with his mother, but Telemachus couldn’t help the thoughts that pooled in his mind.

It seemed no conversation was helping to ease his thoughts, plagued with anxiety about this concept he didn’t fully understand.

Was he too young to be married? Did he have to get married right away?

Whoever in the Gods would give him this “perfect girl” that his mother mentioned.

It was morning, and he had the habit of eating before everyone else. Meeting the servants in the kitchen as they prepared a gluttonous feast for the bastards in the main hall.

The sun had yet to rise as he bit into an apple, peeling at its red skin while he stared into space.

He couldn’t get his last two talks off his mind. I mean, they were from two totally different people?

One, never in love and the other absolutely enamored. It wasn’t likely either related to him…

“My prince? The sun is rising, I suggest you head back to your study before the day's work begins.” The head maid spoke, folding table clothes as she calmly instructed him.

“I didn’t realize the time.” He stood up, leaving the rest of his apple to his pet dog before he left the room. “Thank you!” He called before fully exiting.

The suitors weren’t awake yet, at least not the majority. So he traveled back to the part of the palace in which only he, his mother, and invited guests would stay.

As he turned one of the pillars is when he saw something.

No, he saw someone.

Pausing, he quickly went back behind the pillar to watch.

It was a girl, around his age. Speaking politely with one of the queen’s handmaids, holding a beautiful golden lyre under her right arm.

The sun was shining onto her from the window, making her skin look soft and hair glow in the spots the sun hit hardest. It was gently kissing her face, making each expression all the more beautiful.

It was as if the sun itself had risen just to meet your body and illuminate you for lucky eyes to see.

He was undone.

And you, you stood there with the lyre talking to the handmaiden. Unaware of the cute boy blushing in the next hall.

#telemachus epic the musical #telemachus epic #telemachus x reader #telemachus #epic the musical x reader #epic x reader #epic #epic the vengeance saga #epic the wisdom saga #epic odysseus #epic the thunder saga #epic the musical #epic the ithaca saga #epic penelope

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shaysplanet · 5 months ago

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talk about harry in your dr 🙏🙏

so first and foremost, nearly nobody looks canon in my dr. the golden trio is all different except for hermoine bc that face card eat don’t play!! we’re all 18 and older. I shifted into my 3rd year so i’m not new to this i’m true to it!

y’all may recognize my harry bc his faceclaim is used for barty crouch jr (I hate that so bad like yuck) but this him!

#147

anywho, here’s some tidbits about this man! (scripted and unscripted)

- I call him piss potts. it’s an inside joke. he tolerates it but if anyone else calls him that I fear they’d get the worst sassing of their life.

- he’s raised by sirius in my dr, he’s a true gryffindor so all y’all slytherin harry truthers SIT DOWNNN

- he tends to mimic my accent often, we grew up very close bc of our fathers so I’m used to it

- oh and in case you’re wondering I grew up in italy, my family home is there. all of my siblings and I have italian accents not british ones

- he has a bit of a french twang to his voice but it’s deep and raspy and so so fine

- he’s 6’5 in my dr let us say thank you to james and lily for that.

- he has VERY pretty eyes like take off those glasses boy and let me LOOK at you

- when we were like 13 and he first started getting doses of his inheritance, he started spending money like crazy on me (mind you we’re in the same tax bracket) and this has been a habit for a long while.

- as for venice because I know people were curious: while on the train I was just thinking and my brain went from fred to harry randomly because I hadn’t seen him since venice which was like 3 weeks ago. and I was just a bit nervous about seeing him again because while in venice we danced together at this human night club and I initially didn’t know it was him I was dancing with (mostly because I traveled there by myself) but he tracked my signature—as he often does— and jumpscared me.

- I literally can’t get the thing he said to me out of my head and it’s a bit sickening???

“why are you always finding me?” “I wouldn’t find you if you didn’t want to be found.”

like oh okay let me off myself rn. find me then!

#shaysplanet #shiftblr #shifting blog #shifting diary #reality shifting #shifting community #desired reality #shifting motivation #hogwarts shifting #harry james potter #shifting stories #shays multiverse #shays lil aliens

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literaryvein-reblogs · 8 months ago

Text

Tips for Writing Concisely

“Instant prose” can come from being forced to write papers of a particular length or being told that a paragraph must always contain exactly five sentences. This habit leads to the opposite of conciseness—wordiness in sentences and redundancy in paragraphs, which can confuse the reader and cloud your ideas.

Write what you mean—nothing more and nothing less.

Trust and respect yourself as a writer enough to not overstate what you mean.

Study sentences in your first draft to see what you can delete without losing meaning.

Read each paragraph aloud. Be sure that all sentences support the topic sentence.

Keep concrete, specific examples. Cut out extra words, empty phrases, weak qualifiers, negative constructions, and unnecessary “to be” verbs.

Also, watch for sentences and clauses beginning with it is, this is, and there are.

EXAMPLE 1

Wordy: The economic situation of Anne Moody was also a crucial factor in the formation of her character.

Concise: Anne Moody’s poverty also helped form her character.

EXAMPLE 2

Wordy: Frequently, a chapter in a book reveals to the reader the main point that the author desires to bring out during the course of the chapter.

Concise: A chapter’s title often reveals its thesis.

WEAK INTENSIFIERS & QUALIFIERS

Sentences are more forceful without them.

Notice how much clearer the following sentences are without the words in brackets:

We found the proposal [quite] feasible.

The remark, though unkind, was [entirely] accurate.

The scene was [extremely] typical.

That behavior is [fairly] unique for such an intelligent animal.

The first line [definitely] establishes that the father had been drinking.

SPECIFIC & CONCRETE Make sure that sentences are specific and concrete in their conclusions instead of raising more questions:

Wordy: In both Orwell’s and Baldwin’s essays, the feeling of white supremacy is very important. (This raises the questions: How is it important? Why?)

Concise: Both Orwell and Baldwin trace the consequences of white supremacy. (This revision states its point conclusively.)

"TO BE" Avoid unnecessary use of “to be” verbs:

Wordy: There are two pine trees which are growing behind this house.

Concise: Two pine trees grow behind this house.

REDUNDANT WORDS/PHRASES

Wordy: Any student could randomly sit anywhere.

Concise: Students could sit anywhere. (If they could sit “anywhere,” seating was clearly “random.”)

NEGATIVE CONSTRUCTIONS TO POSITIVE

Wordy: Housing for married students is not unworthy of consideration.

Concise: Housing for married students is worthy of consideration.

SIMPLIFY

Wordy: This is a quote from Black Elk’s autobiography that discloses his prophetic powers.

Concise: This quote from Black Elk’s autobiography discloses his prophetic powers.

Source ⚜ More: Notes & References ⚜ Writing Basics ⚜ Avoid Wordiness

#writeblr #dark academia #light academia #studyblr #langblr #writing prompt #writers on tumblr #spilled ink #on writing #writing reference #writing tips #writing advice #camille pissarro #art #impressionism #oil on canvas #writing resources

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matramancer · 9 months ago

Text

🌸KIKORU THE WINGMAN | Narumi Gen x Mitsuri! reader

Synopsis: As much as she admires her two mentors, seeing the two of you pine over each other was INFURIATING. Perhaps it was time to take matters into her own hands. Unfortunately.

part 1 | Mitsuri! reader Masterlist

Tags: fem! reader, HCs w scenarios, Narumi x reader, Kikoru and Mitsuri!reader found family ft. Narumi, JEALOUS NARUMI, Narumi Gen is an idiot, fluff, mutual pining, Kikoru the wingman

By the time Kikoru’s batch rolls in, she’s already gotten word about several of the unique heavy hitters in the force. She wasn’t her father’s daughter for nothing–an extensive knowledge of the Defense Force is a part of keeping yourself up in the game.

She knew about the infamous First Division—home of Japan’s Strongest Anti-Kaiju Combatant, and the more recent officer who made a name for herself as the Pillar of Love.

However, it still didn’t prepare her for the rather… lousy introduction her supposed new captain and mentor gave her. And the chronic gaming addiction. And the Yamazon addiction. And everything else in between.

When she thought things couldn’t get any rowdier, she was very bombastically introduced to you.

“Captain Narumi! You wanted to see me?” The blonde turns at the new voice entering her ears, your figure standing by the doorway. At a glance, she was taken aback at the mountain of sakura mochi on a tray in your hands, your expression an immediate stark contrast to all the officers she’s ever seen in the force.

As she locked eyes with you, your smile only widened, and Kikoru wondered if it was possible for a human to emit their own light source.

Nothing however prepared her for your figure to zero in on her in a flash, your movements so abrupt she had to take a few steps back to process them. “HELLOOO! YOU’RE SO CUTE! Do you want some sakura mochi? Though I only have a little.” A little?! You were holding a MOUNTAIN!

“Platoon leader (L/N)! Great timing!” Hasegawa keeps his grip strong on Narumi, even as he wriggles about. The man then proceeded to point at his BS5, which the other officers in the room were trying to fit into a trash bag. “HELP ME FARM A DUNGEON! IF WE START NOW WE CAN 100% IT TONIGHT!”

The room is silent as Kikoru watches on, mortified. Hasegawa is seconds away from bloody murder. You were still holding onto your plate of sakura mochi.

“…I’ll just leave these here.” you set down the plate and slowly try to make your escape— “COME BACK HERE PLATOON LEADER!”

If it weren't for the kaiju attack that happened soon after, Narumi’s image would’ve been permanently tarnished in Kikoru’s eyes.

And not only that, she actually also caught a glimpse of you in battle—that was when you really made an impression on her. She solidified her choice by then. She was going to get stronger, with your help.

Although Kikoru was mainly Narumi’s disciple, it soon became clear that the responsibility had also fallen to you. If Narumi wasn’t training her, you were.

It was really based on two things. One, you already spent lots of time training with Narumi, and second, Kikoru had approached you herself.

“You want to train together?” You blinked owlishly as Kikoru stood before you.

“Yes. I saw how you fought–” Kikoru starts. Truth to be told, she couldn’t keep her eyes off of you. She was assigned to your platoon, which gave her front row seats to you on the battlefield. “--Those maneuvers you did, your consistent energy distribution…”

She recounts the battle she witnessed, finding herself staring in awe as you finished off a group of yoju with your machine gun, before strapping said weapon to your back and immediately winding through the street with fast maneuvers. Even with the suit, your speed paired with such strength belonged to no one in the low combat power bracket. Then, the next thing she heard was your unwavering voice, commencing that the neutralization in your zone was complete.

She was absolutely flabbergasted. She hadn’t even registered the weird shape of your sword before you sprung forward, flooring her even more with your superhuman strength. She was a bearer of a heavy weapon herself, but seeing you jump so cleanly with all the weight of your weaponry was on another level. Not to mention how precise each and every move you did was. Anyone with a lower level of skill would’ve cut themselves with that sword!

On the other side of the comms, she hears Narumi send her a taunting chuckle. “You seeing this, newbie? You’re going to have to go on par with that.”

Back to the training grounds, she holds a determined expression on her face, surprising you with a bow, even. “...It would be an honor for you to train me, Platoon Leader.”

“Eh–EH?!?!?!?!?” Kikoru looks up from her bow to see your nervous stupor, a complete 180 from what she saw a mere two hours ago. “ME?!?!?!?!!?” Yes, you.

(Kikoru does not know if she made the right choice).

Usually, you’d be correcting Kikoru’s form and giving her pointers, then holding a sparring session to demonstrate how your techniques flowed. In particular instances where you both used your weapons, you’d move to the specialized training areas.

Narumi in all of his glory would be stuck to his console before you unceremoniously plucked him away from his lawn chair and forced him to participate.

During her training, there was one particular day that stuck out for her. The day she watched you and Narumi spar for the first time.

For once, Narumi had a look that was indescribably amused hidden under his normal demeanor. Excited even. He was the one that initiated it, after all.

“Kikoru, watch.” He says, a lazy smile curling on his lips as he gets into position. A hand to hand spar .No weapons, no gear.

“--I wanted to say that!” You sulked a bit in your mind, biting your lip.

Whenever the two of you sparred, it was always a spectacle. That much was evident on Kikoru’s expression as the two of you went at it, the lighthearted banter from prior completely abandoned as Narumi went on the full offensive.

He was ruthless, not sparing a single punch even as you took a defensive note in your steps. Even if you were dodging his blows, you did so very narrowly.

And then, you flew. An elegant figure belonging to the one deserving of the title “Love Pillar”. Your body twists and contorts with not only polished skill but extreme calculation. If you were even a centimeter off base, Narumi would finish you. It was like you knew where to dodge, and Narumi knew where to hit.

Every single one of your moves had so much thought put into them, which made sense given your weapon of choice. Similarly, Narumi was a master at switching stances, knowing when exactly to go on the defensive before he’s sending another strike to your hazy figure.

It was then that Kikoru realized that she wasn’t just watching any fight–but a culmination of efforts and hardwork that brought the two of you together in this ring. An undoubted match up of strength that solidified your places in the force. That solidified your positions next to each other in battle.

Yeah, she’s never gonna doubt you guys again (or at least, your strengths) as she watches the fight come to a close, courtesy of an announcement by the megaspeakers.

Narumi curses as he hears news of the 3rd Division’s arrival, already muttering not so clean words at the mere thought of their vice captain (you on the other hand were the total opposite, excited at the prospect of seeing some long distance friends).

“We’re going to crush them!” Narumi grunted, cracking his knuckles with the biggest stink eye while you happily tugged Kikoru along, not interested in hampering the mood. “I wonder if we can catch the captain and vice captain! You must miss them, right Kikoru?”

“Haah?! Don’t you DARE even mention Hoshina’s name!” Your captain’s rage immediately intensifies, like a man out for murder. Something Kikoru wanted no part of.

Unfortunately for poor Kikoru, out of pure bad luck and personal circumstance, she had unintentionally gotten herself caught in the front view seats of her captain slash mentor’s unexpected dilemma.

You ignored Narumi’s blatant hostility, smiling ear to ear. You couldn’t wait to catch up with your friends. “Just in time for lunch too! I wonder what’s on the menu…”

Narumi zeroes in on this, already knowing the answer. In fact, he’d even request the chefs to make today’s portions extra bountiful, under the guise of the 3rd Division’s visit.

He cleared his throat, “casually” mentioning your favorite food, and your reaction after is expectedly, a surge of excitement.

Having spent lots of time with you already, Kikoru thought nothing of it–your attitude with a superior present was certainly a bit unrestrained, sure, but after seeing your bond with Narumi, she chalked it up to you guys just having mutual respect and friendship.

Yeah, friendship. Her eyes drift a bit to Narumi, seeing his side profile. Surely, with Narumi being super nonchalant about all this, he was…

wait.

She sees it. Bared witness to it. Lays eyes on it.

A TINT of red on his cheeks. And the aversion of his eyes soon after.

Oh no. Oh no no no. OH NO.

She refuses to get involved, not in the lives of her superiors and DEFINITELY not in the sad lack of love life that belonged to loser master Narumi.

Okay, it was a bit impossible not to. Not when it was one of those things that you’d definitely always notice after realizing it once. And she was spending hours every day with these people.

In Narumi’s defense, he didn’t know how or when it happened. He didn’t even really take note of you until around the time where you earned his acknowledgement, as harshly as that sounded.

His principles, his life revolved around results. Around skills. Around the Defense Force. As far as he was concerned (and hilariously mortified at), you suddenly carving your presence in his psyche and imprinting your being into his heart was not part of any life plans he had in particular.

Sure you got more and more involved with him, sure you just became a regular part of his day, sure you were the number one person he’s most comfortable fighting side by side with, but as anticlimactic as it was, there was nothing spectacular involved. He just noticed it one day.

He especially realizes that something about you in him has changed when he barges in on two officers (nobodies, he didn’t even bother to remember their faces) throwing jabs at how air-headed you seemed. Without even thinking, his brows had furrowed and a scowl was already forming from his face, and when he came to, the officers had already scurried.

At first, he thought it was just acknowledgement and respect for your strength. But thinking about anyone–or anything badmouthing you, calling you names or underestimating you for just being yourself absolutely had him seething.

He got more particular about you all of a sudden as the feelings hit him. He thinks about it all–Your already bright smile that widened just a bit more when you saw him. How you lit up, whether it was from a good day of training with him, or when he would surprise you with a meal. How he has your face memorized by then. He especially loved when you were enjoying a good lunch by his side, when you won a game together, and–

Huh, that’s particular… Did he always notice all of that stuff from you?

Kikoru knew it was over for him when you gathered in the mess hall, and although Narumi had his console in hand, she saw him sneak more than a few glances to your ever joyous figure, your 5th bowl in hand as you excitedly chatted with Captain Ashiro.

And his eyes were full of love.

Hell, he was still quipping with Hoshina, but that’s exactly the thing. The four of you were sitting on the same table in close proximity. Rivalries aside, you were quite good friends with Mina and Hoshina and were always one for conversation, but he and the Vice Captain were usually at each other’s throats. Why was Narumi willingly sitting through this? CALMLY, no less.

These people (you two) were driving her NUTS. Crazy even. It was tolerable at first, hell, things were smooth sailing when she was none the wiser. But now? His lingering gazes, how he lights up when he gets texts from you, how he’s been pushing for your presence more and more often…

Don’t get her started on the special treatment. Did he think he was being smooth?! Kikoru was LOSING it!

Kafka, oh poor Kafka, got dragged into this mess too, via Kikoru finally spilling the beans in a frustrated burst of emotions.

“I can’t take it. It’s disgusting,” she feels like tearing her twintails out, airing out her grievances to Kafka. “The Captain is bad enough as he is.”

The older man just scratches his head with an awkward laugh. The situation reminds him a bit of his high school days. “Well, sometimes the best way to make it stop is to let it happen. Sorry, Kikoru. Young love calls.”

Kikoru groans. “Nevermind that. I don’t know what’s worse. How hard he’s trying–”

Their gazes land on the training grounds where you were chatting with Mina again, before Narumi’s figure emerges from your side as he offers your favorite grilled onigiri nonchalantly. As you thank him with a smile, you‘re completely clueless over how even Mina notices the way his hand brushed against yours for a tad bit too long. How he’s so clearly not doing this for just anyone.

“--Or how oblivious she is.”

So begins the adventures of Kikoru the unwilling wingman.

As much as she’s unwillingly involved in… whatever this was, she joined the Defense Force for a clear reason. She’s not going to toil on this and let it hinder the progress of her training, for her life’s mission.

But there are times where she throws in a gentle push. Not directly getting involved in things by the slightest, but you were quite the talker. What better way than to plant the idea in your head and handle your obliviousness this way?

She ended up learning a few things–one, you were obviously super comfortable with Narumi. Two–you amassed a great deal of respect for him, and was gracious over the opportunity you had to get close with him. REALLY close. Receiving surprise gifts and playing games together in secret during the night type of close. Three–despite all that, you had no idea about the obvious truth.

“You better pay me back for this, idiot master.” Kikoru thinks to herself sometimes.

Don’t mention how you were so good at love advice (love pillar and all, it’s in the name), having been a good ear and cupid for the 1st Division when clearly the one who needed that the most was you. It only frustrates Kikoru more.

So how does Kikoru function as a wingman despite her total unwillingness? Well, she does it through the most unconventional methods… Which is to steal you away from her idiot master instead!It’s a win-win, because she gets to one up her captain and not suffer any consequences–lest he upsets YOU.

On the occasions where Narumi wants to train one on one with you? Nope–Kikoru booked a slot first. You’ve got Friday off? Whoops, girl’s day out with Kikoru and she made you promise.

It was peak “I’m just a girl”. A concept you loved and could heavily indulge in with Kikoru. You’re not sidelining the things you love doing with Narumi, you’re moreover doing things that were more up to you and Kikoru’s forte.

How could you not? Kikoru was an absolute sweetheart, and you’d taken to her like a mother duck. Not only did she see you as a mentor now, but also as a sister figure.

When she started to call you nee-san, you were absolutely ecstatic.

Narumi was understanding. At first. But when even your gaming sessions, which was a sacred bonding time for the both of you, had been slowly taken over by Kikoru’s rendezvouses, that was when the seeds of jealousy started to plow through his skull.

“Ah, Kikoru-chan wants to go shopping.” “Can’t, sorry Narugen! I got tickets with Kikoru and Rin…” “No way! That’s OUR Gossip Girl rewatch marathon and you’re not allowed in.”

And oh does it work. It DEFINITELY started a reaction in him. Narumi has upgraded her status from idiot disciple to menace.

All of a sudden, a new competition rolled in town, and the First Division had a new point of interest to watch.

The rivalry of Isao’s brightest disciple vs his rising star daughter for the attention of the Love Pillar. (Coming to a division near you!)

Both are now vying for your compliments, and sometimes the comms get so loud with their bickering that the operations room has to work overtime over the noise pollution.

Narumi is seething because it seems like Kikoru always wins, your attention so doting on her, your favor clearly present as you never fail to praise her. Hell, the little brat was now on HUGGING terms with you! You even braid her hair the way you did yours some nights. It was driving him crazy.

Kafka’s also always at the scene in the worst timing possible. At more than one instance, he’d walk into the training grounds just as Kikoru successfully stole you away again, and he was forced to endure his daily training under an unmerciless Narumi Gen in a bitter mood.

What made him grumble at the same time was as much as he hated how Kikoru was monopolizing you, you looked absolutely joyous enjoying things with her–and he just couldn’t take that happiness away from you. No, he absolutely won’t allow it.

He wouldn’t ever reveal it so lightly at this point in time, but you meant so much to him.

And as he grows more and more obvious with the shift in his demeanor, how much he’s wagging his tail, even Hoshina had noticed and sent his tips to the betting pool.

If it weren’t for Kikoru’s sleight of hand however, the slow burn you had with Gen would’ve probably lasted longer than the existence of kaiju itself.

When he’s FINALLY able to steal you away from Kikoru, he’s taken aback by how vigorously he was vying for your time in the first place. How he felt so victorious over catching that empty spot in your schedule before his menace of a mentee dragged you away from him.

And when he finally catches himself unable to hold back a grin as he sees you all dressed up pretty on the train with him, it hits him deeply with the realization that you had made yourself home in his consciousness. That he values the many moments he gets to spend with you so much.

Maybe that was okay. Maybe he wants to treasure the little moments he has with you. Maybe… maybe this normalcy the two of you fostered together was alright.

You made him feel normal. Like the two of you were just young adults given a glimpse of a life outside of the Defense Force, where he could imagine days like this with you to come. Like he was just a boy, no captain or anything. And you saw him as just that.

That was what went through his mind on a nice afternoon out in the city, Narumi insisting he be the first to bring you to this new restaurant that served your favorite kind of dishes.

Equipped with disguise gear of great caliber (a mask, sunglasses, and two hats you had lying around), the two of you comb through the crane games and rhythm machines in the arcade, working up an appetite an hour before your reservation.

His eyes couldn’t stop glancing at your excited figure at the small plushies in the crane games. He chose your favorite songs on maimai. He made sure to reserve seats in the restaurant beforehand and nearly even used his name card to guarantee them.

And later on, when Kikoru’s eyes scanned the photostrip you were showing her taken at a purikura booth you and Narumi tried, she nearly fell down over how loving his gaze was on the last pic.

When it was finally time to enjoy your meal, you were beaming in absolute delight as you finished bowl after bowl, plate after plate, offering Narumi a share of everything.

He gladly accepted, absolutely reveling in how you spoiled him. Especially with how there was no Hasegawa around to hold you back. He was practically on your lap, figuratively.

Yapper gf x listener bf to the max as he sat beside you with an expression so soft in comparison to the rest of his unruly personality, being absolutely glued to everything about you.

Well, that was when he was facing you. Narumi had secretly turned away and glared at any other patrons who dared to even attempt to send a nasty look your way from “how much you were eating” .

“You got a problem with that? Do you want me to shove the rest of the food down your throat instead, huh?” Was what Narumi’s intense glare communicated, immediately causing the aforementioned judgemental patrons to look away in embarrassment.

Then, he’d immediately whip his head back when you addressed him, completely at your mercy.

As you finished the last of your food, you were completely obvious to Narumi’s sudden change of demeanor, a wave of nervousness washing over him as he fidgets with the inside of his pocket.

He hopes you’ll like this gift of his.

[restaurant scenario - coming soon]

“I had lots of fun today!” You gushed with your usual cheerful demeanor, sinking into the bathwater next to Rin and Kikoru. You were recounting the eventful afternoon you had to them. “I have so many new plushies now, and there’s so many new stores in that shopping district that just reopened. Let’s go there together next time!”

Kikoru huffed a bit, hearing about your day. She was both lightly covetous over how Narumi somehow managed to steal a slot of your time before her, having grown very attached to you and your attention, yet at the same time, she was absolutely floored at just how smitten her idiot mentor was for you from all the pictures, videos, and stories you showed her when practice finished. If anyone who didn’t know any better saw these, they’d IMMEDIATELY assume it was a date. Hell, that was what Rin thought when she joined the conversation!

You in your Sunday best? Taking you to a specialty restaurant that had your favorite food? Sharing bites? Winning you all those plushies? And…

She recalls just how eye catching the subtle change of your appearance was to her when you returned to the base with him. When you didn’t take off the new item you acquired until you hit the showers.

“Gen got me this today,” as you finally removed the accessory from your hair, you eagerly showed Kikoru and Rin the gift Narumi got you, barely noticing the other two girls’ wide-eyed, open mouthed stare at three things. One, how you addressed your superior, THE Narumi Gen by his first name so lightly. Second, THE Narumi Gen being thoughtful and paying attention to your tastes. He knew you loved cute things. Third, how your cheeks were glowing just a bit more radiant, how your tone had a slight change to it. How…

The love in your eyes was so evident.

“You’re so dense,” Rin’s comment brings Kikoru back to the present, the former crossing her arms and furrowing her brows. “Are we not seeing the same things here?” She continues, recalling all the times he’d been so partial to you. He’s still mean to you, yes, but there’s such an obvious touch of softness and mutual standing there that everything just speaks for itself.

You blink. “What things?”

Rin sighs, more than familiar with your disposition. “You’re going to kill me.”

The blonde watches as you haphazardly rise up from the water in a frenzy, Rin screaming as you dart towards her direction, arms reaching out to catch her. Water spills in every direction as you wrestle each other in the tub, you bleating pathetically for answers while Rin attempts to fight you off.

“SPILLLLLLL!” The other woman shrieks as you push into her body, a comedic expression on your face as you tackle her sides.

Immediately trying to regain her balance, Rin lets out a chorus of strangled noises as your body pressed against hers, desperately trying to squeeze out an answer. She attempts to steady both of your bodies as she feels you move around way too frantically. “HOLY SHIT– Your breasts are going to spill out BE CAREFUL–OI!”

“TELL ME RIN!!” You cry out again.

“IT’S LITERALLY SPELLED OUT IN FRONT OF YOU, YOU DUMMY!”

“WHAT IF I CAN’T READ?!”

Amidst all the banter, Kikoru finds herself lost to her thoughts, drifting back to her thoughts of you and Narumi. She couldn’t wrap her head around it at first, but something felt so familiar…

Then, it hits her, recalling the stories between her own parents during their youth in the Defense Force. How Hikari Shinomiya was quite the spunky, passionate youth akin to her namesake, and how Isao Shinomiya was the much mellower, passive homebody, yet had loved her with so much passion all the same.

History seemed to repeat itself.

At the sound of the water splashing, you watch in surprise as the top of Kikoru’s head dives down into the tub, seeing air bubbles form on the top. You quickly call out to her in concern. “Kikoru-chan?!”

“I didn’t expect it to work too well…”

i cant wait to write out what went down in that restaurant... here's the expression that Gen remembers the most, and the face he fell in love with. waaaaa

#after this its angst btw #kaiju no 8 #kaiju no. 8 #kaiju no. 8 x reader #kaiju no 8 x reader #gen narumi #gen narumi x reader #narumi gen #narumi gen x reader #narumi gen x you #fem! reader #mitsuri! reader #kaiju no 8 headcanons #kaiju no. 8 headcanons #reader insert #headcanons #scenarios

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bunji-enthusiast · 3 months ago

Note

Hello, how are you? I've missed you so much. I don't know if your requests are open, but I'd like to ask you this, please.

Lancelot has been searching for years for Meliodas' youngest daughter, Tristan's twin, who disappeared under strange circumstances. Someone as strong as her wouldn't give up without a fight. She supposedly disappeared 1 year before Lancelot.

While investigating the disappearance of some children in a village near Lyon, Meliodas's father was worried for a while but didn't order the knights to search for her.

Lancelot saw her a couple of times before, in her spiritual form, or in his dreams. The last time he saw her, she looked at him with melancholy and told him it was okay that he no longer sought her out.

Lancelot was helping his uncle Meliodas with the bar. When the boy goes to the basement for more alcohol, he sees a strange wall, noticing that it isn't really a wall.

As she approaches, she notices him and discovers her uncle's great secret. The princess of Liones has been sealed inside a goddess's amber all this time.

Then Meliodas mentions to Lancelot that he shouldn't have discovered it. And the reason the girl was sealed was because of her immense amount of power, which even hurt her. Lancelot asks who else knows. Meliodas replies that no one else does. Lancelot tries to read the sealed girl's thoughts, but perhaps because of the amber, he can't. Can I ask you for a Lancelot for Meliodas and Elizabeth's daughter, Tristan's sister, please?

Demon You Know

Lancelot x Tristan’s Sister!Reader

Summary || Rock after rock, message after message. But the truth was right under his nose the entire time. did it always have to hurt?

Note // At this point, you could’ve written it yourself lol. you've given me much material to work with though, my brain keeps drawing to blank lmao. what I find criminal is that we've never had any interactions with solely Lancelot and Elizabeth though, they gotta have some kinda platonic kinship, it'd be so adorable (fyi brackets are flashbacks/memory sequences). Anyway—Hope you like~

If there was one thing that consisted with Lancelot, the prince of Benwick---he was relentless. Akin to his mother. He may have inherited many genetic traits from his father, but it was one thing at heart that they both shared as mother and son.

being relentless.

he had goals, personal ones. however, the one thing that stood at the top of his list? you. you disappeared not long after he did, and he was admittedly worried when he found out not long after he came back. it was so sudden, imminent.

What were you like now? gentle.. kind even. Lancelot was puzzled, worried, confused. a mixture of emotions that stewed within the blonde, especially with everything else that has been transpiring so far. he couldn't help but be worried about you, he's searched and searched.

Lancelot knew you were far too strong, too persistent to just give up without a fight. it bewildered the shapeshifter, and he always asked questions that even remotely related to you. But—

each and every question perished at the thought of you, at the thought of the impossibility that you no longer existed. that alone was what made his heart tighten, and he's one of the few hybrids having the ability to read hearts.

despite bearing such a stoic and responsible persona, his emotions can easily break the dam. which was something that he hated so much, so much so that he tried his damndest not to break at every dead-end, at every wall that was too tall to climb. Lancelot didn't even want to consider the impossibility every time it was brought up to him by someone else, his brow was furrowed, too easy to miss.

and they've always noticed of course, Lancelot was somebody who always cared and poured his own way of loving with all his effort. Tristan knew that, Percy did: Hell, even Donny.

Of course Queen Elizabeth did too.

you've always taken after her, in terms of personality. not too unlike Tristan. despite your easy temperamental nature, you held a unique and inherent kindness that far surpasses his ability to fight. he'll admit that much, not to anyone else of course. Her Majesty is, and always has been concerned for his health, and by all rights, worried for you. you are her daughter, both in blood and action.

Lancelot doesn't miss the way the queen is always trodden with an inexplicable sense of sadness, drawing a longing glance at an empty space beside her son. she wishes for both her children back, in the same room together, and he'd be damned if he couldn't do something about that.

["are you alright?"

he asks this question, so suddenly amidst the silence of the everyday royal duties. the worn down shoulders deflate, feeling the weight of the soreness wring his muscles. The queen, eyes with triskelion symbols always seemingly all-knowing flit to his, and she smiles. even with it all, she smiles.

Lancelot envies that.

Elizabeth takes a deep breath, wavering between even, and uneven. the queen squares her shoulders, lifting her head high with both confidence and gentleness. "you're always so worried for everyone Lancelot."

"hard not to." he responds curtly, eyes flashing over to the open air window. Lancelot feels the way the wind ghosts his skin. of course, he keeps his hands firmly in the confines of his pockets. a practiced ease he's so used to, he's not as jumpy as he used to be when he was only ten.

Elizabeth tilts her head, "I admire that quality, it's a rarity I often only found in your mother."

He swears to suppress the heat that rushes to his neck, and nods. Lancelot blinks slowly, trying to collect himself. "guess it runs in the family." he admits, shrugging while he spoke.

The queen laughs, the warmth of it swells in his chest. he appreciates it, "I would hope so, it's a fond quality to have my dear."

He stays silent, waiting for her to continue. Lancelot senses there was more, and he wasn't one to interrupt a woman.

"...I miss her," she pauses, crossing her arms. "I know you've been looking for her, constantly." Lancelot's lips purse, not so used to his penchant of chasing even the wildest of gooses—you—hang mid-air. His head hangs low, his left hand now rubbing the back of his neck.

"M'sorry." he says, and not too long after, he feels a comforting pressure weigh down his shoulder. Lancelot finally looks up, and his eyes widen.

Elizabeth's eyes borderline rimmed red with tears, "you've nothing to apologize for."

And for what it was worth, he deeply appreciated the sentiment. yet the way her thoughts suddenly ran so cold, so devoid of any warmth almost scared the boy.

That was the first time he's seen Her Majesty so deeply, utterly, vulnerable.]

Lancelot's grip around his wrist tightens, and he hates that. He rubs the soreness, feeling around the skeleton that lays beneath the flesh of his hardened skin. He's been on every lead possible, damn near a hellhound. But he doesn't succeed.

His successions presents themselves only in combat, only in his opponents who cower as he shreds the last bit of hope they ever have of walking away from the fight alive. a stark contrast to his own, a stone of hope, for something; that is slowly being chipped away one by one every time he fails in finding a solid path to you. but he stays strong, in hopes for something. anything at this point, and he hates that too.

virtually nothing can tear him away from the thought of finally, finally finding you. he waits, and he dreams of the mere thought.

nonetheless, Lancelot finds himself falling to his knees. something he never does, when you tell him that it was alright to not seek you out anymore.

he questions, he begs. Lancelot pleads with you, 'what about your brother? your mother?' and his heart infinitely breaks when you tell him that very sentence.

["you don't have to seek me out anymore, Lance," you said, cupping his face. his fists ball up, lax, and ball up again. they're nearly white at the peaks of his knuckles. the dream wisps at the edges of your appearance, softening the edges of your once child-like demeanor.

the prince shakes his head in disbelief.

"wh-what?" Lancelot stutters, and your heart squeezes at his tone, but you don't falter.

"you don't have to seek me out anymore, it's okay." you repeat, closing your eyes, and leaning your forehead against his. Lancelot doesn't respond, his body just goes limp at the contact.]

fuck that.

he wasn't going to obey anything of that sort, not on your words. there was no fucking way he was going to do that. Lancelot wasn't just going to leave you alone. you've been gone for nearly nine years, and it was nine years too long.

even if it was just on a lone act of desperation, Lancelot was gonna find you. he'd particularly burn all of Britannia to do it if he had too, and that was no feasible thing he'd admit to alone.

admittedly he was driving himself crazy trying to find you, and with everything else weighing down his shoulders, Lancelot was indubitably surprised that he didn't snap at the drop of the smallest thing that he didn't account for.

lately, he's been investing the disappearances of the village children near Lyon. each and every one traces back with the same similar detail.

whisked away, misty footsteps but nothing else. he senses something deeper beneath it all. but he couldn't find himself trying to figure out the perpetrator. regardless of it, it's something he's been committing to, as the king of Liones himself had taken the solemnity of bestowing such a task to Lancelot.

and being who he is, never turned down the king's requests. especially he shared a deep familial bond with the king, despite the difference in their status.

Lancelot was making his rounds in the streets of the kingdom, familiar walkways penetrate his vision. the prince doesn't miss the cracks that had been forming overtime due to the countless amount of footsteps that had walked these very paths.

footfalls ring in the back of his mind.

"hey lance!" he snaps his head up at the casual tone of the call, and he recognizes it immediately.

King Meliodas himself, the very man who his thoughts fell on as of late. Lancelot watches as the king swaggers over to him, not a single falter in his bounciness. he keeps his hands where they usually are, feeling his rigid stance soften in the face of the king's presence.

"uncle." he finally acknowledges, and the grin on the king's face widened. Lancelot almost winced, worried about the way his skin seemed to stretch. always having room for even the slightest bit of joy, and Lancelot appears to be a contender: constantly.

Lancelot tilts his head, deciding to shift the focus. "what's up?"

"I was curious if you wanted to help me at the bar today," then he shifts on the balls of his feet, the heels clacking against the stone pavement. "I figured an extra hand wouldn't hurt---and you're already nearby." Meliodas chuckles.

Lancelot shrugs, a vehemently easy reminder of his habit. something that he's done so much, it was his way of saying 'yes' or otherwise 'sure'. Meliodas perks up with a much more relaxed grin, and turns around as he made his way to their destination.

the blonde of course, follows.

The two carried themselves with relative ease, having practiced a similar routine before without trouble. Of course Lancelot had once before when he was newer to assisting Meliodas, made a few mistakes of his own; but with time, he improved.

As he always had.

“Hey, mind getting more booze?” Meliodas asks, already leaning beneath the wooden counter in the kitchen side of the bar.

Lancelot had already been weaving through the tables, cleaning them down thoroughly with cloth. He knows that the king wouldn’t mind him if he faltered a bit, but his immaculate eye for detail won’t let him. The cleanliness isn’t something that Lancelot passes up.

He stops his ministrations, sharp eyes flickering over to the doorway that led down to the basement. Or otherwise more commonly known as the cellar.

“M’kay.” Lancelot simply responds, and he does as instructed. Leaving the rag ajar on the table he currently had been attending to.

Footfall becomes less and less indiscriminate as he moves into the cold empty space.

However, his own comments become increasingly spaced out as he senses something. His confidence wavering as he makes it to the floor.

Lancelot stood frozen, staring at the wall in the basement. It wasn’t just any wall; it radiated an unfamiliar energy, an unsettling aura that gnawed at his instincts. His fingers brushed against the stone, and as if responding to his touch, the wall shimmered. He took a step closer, his heart pounding in his chest. Beneath the surface, faint glimmers of light pulsed. He had seen something like this before… but this was different. This was not a mere enchantment or trick of the eye.

And then he saw you.

There you were, suspended within a strange amber, your face pale yet serene, eyes closed. The amber glowed softly, a faint heartbeat in the otherwise still air. Lancelot’s throat tightened as his heart skipped a beat. He recognized you instantly — your presence, even in this ethereal form, was undeniable. The princess of Liones. His uncle’s secret, hidden in plain sight for all these years.

"Uncle...?" Lancelot’s voice barely broke the silence, tinged with disbelief.

Meliodas stepped into the room, his face betraying a deep sorrow. He sighed heavily, as if he had been expecting this moment for a long time.

"You shouldn’t have found out," Meliodas murmured, his voice heavy with regret. "But... now you have."

Lancelot’s mind raced. He had always suspected there was more to the story of the princess, of the mysterious disappearance that no one ever spoke of. But this... this was far beyond what he had ever imagined.

"What happened to her?" Lancelot asked, his voice barely a whisper, but the weight of his words hung heavily in the air.

Meliodas’ gaze softened. "Her power… it was too great, Lancelot. Far beyond what anyone could control. Even she couldn’t contain it. The amber is a prison, but it also protects her. She’s been sealed inside for her own safety, and the safety of everyone else.”

Lancelot’s fists clenched, his nails biting into his palms. He could feel the rage building inside him, but also a deep, overwhelming sadness. "So... she's been here all this time? Trapped in this... this cage?"

Meliodas nodded solemnly. "Yes. I couldn’t bear to tell you, or anyone else. Not until you were ready. Not until you understood why."

Lancelot stepped forward, his eyes fixed on your sealed form, his gaze softening. "Can she… feel anything? Is there any way to reach her?"

Meliodas hesitated before answering, the look in his eyes full of sorrow. "I’ve tried… but the amber prevents anyone from reaching her. Not even you, Lancelot."

Lancelot’s brow furrowed, frustration mounting as he extended his hand, his magic swirling in the air around him. His connection to others' thoughts, to their hearts, had always been strong. It was one of his most powerful gifts. But this... this amber was blocking him. He could feel it — the barrier, thick and unyielding, separating him from you.

"Why didn’t you tell me earlier?" Lancelot’s voice trembled with an emotion he couldn’t quite name. Was it anger? Sadness? Fear? Or was it something far more personal?

"I had to protect you from this truth. From the pain of knowing," Meliodas replied softly. "And because… I didn’t want you to make the same mistake I made."

Lancelot turned back to his uncle, his eyes hardening, but the sadness still lingered. "What mistake?"

Meliodas let out a long, tired sigh. "I thought I could control everything. That I could protect her, protect everyone, by keeping this secret. But in the end, it only hurt her more."

Lancelot’s mind raced as he looked back at your form. He could feel the weight of your power, even sealed away like this, and he understood why it had been locked away. But now, seeing the truth laid bare, he couldn’t just walk away. He couldn’t leave you like this, trapped and forgotten.

"I won’t stop looking for a way to free her," Lancelot said, his voice firm, determination burning in his chest. "Even if I have to do it alone."

Meliodas stepped forward, placing a hand on Lancelot’s shoulder. "I don’t want you to face this alone either, Lancelot. But you must be careful. Some powers... are not meant to be released."

Lancelot turned to face his uncle, his magenta eyes flashing with a mix of resolve and quiet understanding. "I know. But I have to try. I owe her that much."

As the silence stretched between them, Lancelot’s thoughts lingered on the words you had spoken to him in his dreams. The words that had haunted him for so long. *"It’s okay, Lancelot. Don’t look for me anymore."*

But now, standing in this cold basement, with the amber glowing faintly in front of him, he knew he couldn’t stop. He wouldn’t stop.

He owed it to you.

#lancelot mokushiroku no yonkishi #lancelot 4koa #lancelot 4kota #lancelot #meliodas #Meliodas nnt #nnt meliodas #nanastu no taizai Meliodas #tristan mokushiroku no yonkishi #tristan 4kota #4kota tristan #tristan liones #lancelot x y/n #lancelot x you #lancelot x reader

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archaeologysucks · 11 months ago

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Yesterday I broke through a long-standing brick wall in my family tree, and was finally able to connect one of my ancestors with her parents and siblings, which is pretty damn satisfying. It was a case of women getting lost in the records when they remarry and change their names, which is unfortunately extremely common. I also got to add another wild story involving bigamy and legal turmoil to my family history, and that's always fun.

I knew a lot about my great-great-great grandmother Mary Emeline Brown (1833-1910), but unfortunately the earliest proven record I had for her was her marriage in 1848 at the age of about 15 to John M. Armstrong in Jerseyville, Illinois. This meant that on the earliest census record (1850) that lists every person by name, she was already married, with no clues about her family of origin.

All I knew was that her maiden name was the extremely common Brown, and that her death certificate named her parents as John Brown and Ruth Nelson, with no indication who had given that information or whether they knew it to be accurate.

There was a prominent Brown family in Jersey County, Illinois, however, and I was sure Mary was connected to them somehow, but I couldn't quite prove it. I knew where her husband's grandfather and uncle's land was, and where the Brown lands were, so I made a map to see if that would help. I was able to prove that the Armstrong lands lay on the same major roadway as those of a John Brown (1790-1872), a few miles to the east, and for a while, I thought that might be Mary's father.

The only problem? There was no Mary listed among this John's children, and no obvious gap she might have fit into. Also, his wife's name was Margaret Piper, which is not very similar to Ruth Nelson. Well, maybe Ruth Nelson was not John's wife. Maybe Mary was born out of wedlock. Such things weren't uncommon. Damned if I could prove it, though, without doing some complicated DNA work, or finding some court documents that stated her paternity.

For a long time, I was stuck there, at the same dead end my grandmother had arrived at when she first started working on our genealogy in the 1980s. Just about everyone who listed Mary on their family tree on Ancestry.com gave her parents either as this John Brown, without offering any corroborating evidence, or else simply as John Brown with no additional information at all.

Well, the other day, I decided to dig a little deeper. I went through every single family tree that included Mary, to see if I could find even one clue that might point me in a useful direction. And I found one: a single ancestry tree that listed Mary's parents as Vincent Brown (c. 1805-1834) and Elizabeth Wilson (1810-1892). And more importantly, the researcher had explained their conclusions, which is something surprisingly few people on Ancestry.com ever do.

When Vincent Brown died in about 1834, he left a wife and a few young children, but because he was a young man, he left no will naming his heirs. However, court documents for his estate mention a child with the initials M. E. Brown as one of his heirs. This is not proof, but ….

In 1839, when Mary would have been about 6 years old, Elizabeth Wilson Brown remarried to Jonathan Routh, whose surname some sometimes spelled Roth or Ruth. It's not impossible to think a later relative might have heard the name Grandma Ruth, wife of Jon, associated with Mary's mother, and assumed that was her first name, confusing Wilson for Nelson as her maiden name, and also assuming Jon was Jon Brown, since that was Mary's maiden name. This is also not proof, but ….

On the 1840 census, which only lists the head of household by name, with numbers for each sex and age bracket for all other household members, all the known children of Elizabeth Brown and Jonathan Routh (spelled Ruthe on this record) are accounted for, and one is a girl between the ages of 5 and 9, who could be Mary. This is also not proof, but ….

Jonathan Routh and Elizabeth had three more children, but he decided not stick around. In 1845, he left Illinois for Texas with no intention of returning, and he did not bother to grant Elizabeth a divorce first. In 1852, he remarried in Texas, and had several more children. He served in the Confederate Army during the Civil War and died in 1864. In 1871, Elizabeth sued his heirs in Texas for half of his estate, because she was still his legal wife. The case went to the Texas Supreme Court, and she was ultimately awarded 1/4 of his estate ($750) in 1883.

When Elizabeth Wilson Brown Routh died in 1892, her estate probate documents named all of her heirs, which at that time included many grandchildren, one great-grandchild, and one surviving daughter: Mary Ernest. By this time, Mary E. Armstrong had divorced my great-great-great-grandfather John M. Armstrong (and good for her, because he was a piece of work), and remarried to Albert Ernst, a man 20 years her junior who owned a brewery. Well done, grandma.

Is that proof that my Mary Emeline Brown Armstrong Ernst was the child of Vincent Brown and Elizabeth Wilson Brown Routh? Well, no, not really. But it is compelling evidence, and a strong lead that I can follow up on by digging deeper into Jersey County, Illinois court records, and looking into what became of her theoretical siblings for additional clues. Importantly, there is nothing here to contradict the idea that this was her family. I am fairly confident that this is them, and that it's only a matter of time before I can prove it definitively. I love solving historical mysteries and puzzles!

#genealogy #19th century #illinois #long post

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altis-of-olympia · 6 months ago

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For those who do not know, I have been training under King Zeus Horkios - Watcher of Oaths. As part of this training, I have been assisting others down their paths of training to ensure that they are properly preparing for the oath that they wish to take, or even those traveling down different paths who seek any kind of guidance.

This led me to do a deep dive into the different kinds of oaths in our modern day and Ancient Greece, and to determine if there was a term for the kind of Oath that a Priestx in Training would take once they've graduated out of training, or done their devotional. From what I could find, there was not.

In response to this, I did a small study with my friends (most of whom are either Priests or in training) in order to come up with an appropriate term for this kind of Oath. I wanted to share the findings and results here, as I think it is beneficial for those interested in any oathsworn path.

First, let's talk about the different kinds of Oaths that I could find.

Testimonial Oaths - This is the oath we hear most frequently in a court of law. "Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?" It is an oath that binds the individual taking the oath, typically a witness, to tell the truth, and if found guilty of lying or perjury, they face jailtime.

Promissory Oath - This is something we tend to do on a daily. Saying things like, "I promise to," is a promissory oath. Promising that you will carry out an action in the future, however near or far that may be. This is a kind of Oath despite it not being done in a serious setting on most occasions.

Paternal Oath - This kind of Oath was found in Ancient Greece. Promising and swearing that you are the father of a child and will uphold the duties that come with fatherhood. This may seem silly to include, but I was not going to just not include any kind of oath from my research.

Loyalty Oath / Vassal Oath - Historically done to swear loyalty to an individual of a higher class, typically (but not always) done through coercion or made under duress. Historically, these oaths were forced upon lesser Kings to swear loyalty to another, more powerful King.

Coercion Oath - An oath made through false pretenses or via duress. We see this frequently in cases of intimate partner violence, where one partner forces the other to sign legal documents or make statements while intimidated or fearful of their life.

Hippocratic Oath - A promise to do no harm and uphold the ethical standards and act in the best interest of [patients]. Patients is in brackets because, while this is the Hippocratic Oath, most doctors also carry over this Oath outside of their workplace and act with the best interest of the general population in mind.

In addition to this, the only "Oath of Devotion" I could find was in Dungeons and Dragons - it is an option of devotion that a Cleric or Paladin can take in relation to a God or Holy figure. This definition is what got me thinking about a term that could apply to Priestxhood and individuals doing their devotional.

A major concept with oaths in Ancient Times was the concept of curses and blessings. Curses typically came when the individual making the Oath broke this oath or did not fulfill their end of the bargain. Blessings came when the oath was fulfilled. Olympic Athletes took oaths (I classify their oaths as Promissory Oaths as they promised to refrain from cheating and partake in an honest Olympic Season), Government Officials took oaths (Primossory), Heroes made Oaths, etc. If these oaths were broken, it was said that a curse would befall the individual who made this oath. With this in mind, I crafted my questions carefully.

This brings me to the actual study.

The study was done via google form and the individuals who took it will be kept confidential.

I asked a total of nine questions - eight required, one optional - in order to get my data right. I had four respondents (low generalizability, I know), and here is how it went.

There was an even 50% split between people who identified themselves as Active Priests and those who were Priestxs in training.

Based on these identifications, 75% of respondents said that they used wording such as "I promise to" or "I swear to" when they took up training or did their devotional.

When asked if they felt that there would be some kind of adverse consequences to breaking/going against their words or dedication, all respondents said yes. They further explained by stating the following:

"She chooses to share this blessing with me, and She has the right to take this away or give other consequences should I fail to uphold my duties..."

"It not only is disrespectful to the God and their name but the kharis you've spent so much time building. It's grounds for dismissal from working with that God ever again, in my opinion."

"I'm not exactly too sure on what, but I most definitely do not think it will be taken lightly if I were to just give up / go against my dedication."

"I do believe breaking any kind of promise to the ods can lead to negative outcomes ... It's a very serious ask for both the devotee and the deity and to break that without cause will create problems."

The belief across the board is, yes, they feel there would be adverse consequences - or a "curse" - if their oath is broken.

When asked how fulfilling their words or acting in line with their devotions felt and how it made their respective Gods feel, these were some of the responses:

"I get this warm feeling, and I know [Goddess] is with me, and I can feel Her pride. It makes everything in the world feel a little more correct."

"Amazing. Euphoric, really. And kinda addicting. You get addicted to the joy that comes with fulfilling something for Them and the way they reciprocate; whether that be through their energy or blessings."

"I feel so unbelievably good ... It's very gratifying."

" I get my sense of accomplishment x10 ... I know that they (My God) feel appreciative of my devotion, it feels a lot like a proud hand on my shoulder with a warm smile if anything."

Across the board, they feel content and happy, and so do their Gods, which then led to those aforementioned "Blessings."

I then listed the different Oath classifications as I did earlier in this post, and asked respondents to select which terms felt more "In-Line" with the promise they made. These were the results:

0% of respondents selected Testimonial Oath.

100% of respondents selected Promissory Oath.

0% of respondents selected Paternal Oath.

25% of respondents selected Loyalty Oath / Vassal Oath.

0% of respondents selected Coercive Oath.

50% of respondents selected Hippocratic Oath.

Of these results, I was shocked that the Loyalty Oath / Vassal Oath was not a more popular pick. I accredited this, in part, to researcher error (i.e. me being stupid) due to the wording of the definition. I was also shocked at the high number of respondents who selected the Hippocratic Oath - though, in hindsight, this does make sense, as the Hippocratic Oath urges doctors to do no harm and act with the best interest of the public in mind and, as a Priest, you are expected to do similar.

I then asked respondents to define the promise they made:

"A promise to live within the values I need to uphold as a Priestess. I also vowed to spread Her domain as well as I can, and to help others as well as I can."

"I am a bird. I promised to forever remain a bird and I don't see myself ever not being a bird again. It is the very foundation of my being, now. It is my life. It is everything I have ever wanted to be and it is the most important promise I've ever made."

"A promise to not only serve my God under His epithets, to carry out His will, as well as to help those who practice Hellenic Polytheism as a whole."

The last respondent did not make an oath, but said "if I were to make a promise, this would be the oath I take."

When presented with the term Devotional Oath, lack of definition aside, 100% of respondents said this term would feel more accurate to their experiences. They each defined the term as such:

"I would define it as devoting myself to living in Her name, and to helping people on her behalf. I have devoted myself and my actions to her."

"A lifelong promise that cannot be broken until fulfilled. And devotion can never truly be fulfilled, because it is continuous. So it is voluntarily spackling yourself to the deity you worship unless they decide you're no longer worthy of the chains."

"The swearing of an eternal promise to work for and serve the person whom you devote yourself to."

"I would define it (In HelPol) as an Oath you take to promise your continuous worship and service to the Deity you are training to fulfill a title under."

The final question was simply asking for any further thoughts or feedback - one of which advised re-doing this form with another option for those who did not take an oath, which I will be doing if I were to re-do this little study in the future.

That was a lot of information, but bear with me, we're almost done!

To conclude this long post, I would like to present my own definition of the term Devotional Oath, derived from the definitions I was suggested by the respondents of my form.

Devotional Oath - A lifelong and continuous Promise to work for and serve the subject of devotion - and such, is frequently neverending or life long.

Of course, this is just a working definition. However, I would love to take this definition and open it up to criticism and feedback. If you have a suggestion for a different definition, perhaps different wording, or anything, please leave it below. And thank you for endorsing my little research endeavors. It was quite fun.

Additionally, I want to pose a question to you. Would you define this term completely differently from how I have, based on the research? And why?

Happy New Year, traveler.

Xaire, Altis.

#helpol #hellenic deities #hellenic polythiest #hellenic polytheism #hellenism #altis's training #teachings of altis #zeus devotion #hellenic worship #hellenic polytheistic #zeus deity

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sexiestpodcastcharacter · 8 days ago

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Sexiest Podcast Character 2024 — Unscripted Undefeated Bracket — Round 6−1

Propaganda

Trish Una (Riley Hopkins and Their Amazing Friends: Interstitial Infinity):

Ok genuinely I'm gonna need some razzle dazzle for the Deal Great Harm queen, the beautiful mind, the arm through a little blonde boy with bad vibes, thumbs down, bad motherfucker l, head full of rocks heart full of emotions Trish Una

She's been left by everyone she cares about- are you going to leave her too?

trish una is capable of such violence it's beautiful. listen to those clips again i beseech you

Mod Note: This is only the Trish Una from the podcast Riley Hopkins And Their Amazing Friends. Do not vote on the basis of any other Trish Una.

Husky (Hope's Hearth):

not only is she a giant polar bear woman, she has a Russian accent, is MASSIVE, fat, has huge tits, threatens people, and has a high rank in Sexy

Audio asking so-so-niceys for your vote against Pickman.

Art of Trish Una courtesy of @charaznablescanontoyota.

Art of Husky by @lotsadeer.

Additional propaganda below the cut:

Trish Una (Riley Hopkins and Their Amazing Friends: Interstitial Infinity):

Trish Una, from the universe of Jojo's Bizarre Adventure, ensures that the hits start coming and they don't stop coming. Trush Ina, from JJBA, fights Rachel from Animorphs and wins. T. Una Sandwich, from Jimmy John's Brash Accumulation, is best friends with Shadow the Hedgehog and she's also my dad. T-Minus Uno, from Chipotle,

She is emotionally compromised and definitely not turning into her father

Trish "is it stands" Una is the type of motherfuckers you need to see to be believed. Trish & Carrie toxic Yuri. Trish the fucking Spirit of justice. Trish is the real one.

Please vote for my close friend Trish Una or else you leave without saying goodbye to her

TRISH "THE MONEY" UNA

This is propaganda for all the female characters. Voters please remember how pretty all women are and factor that into every single vote you make. Thank you.

#is that fucking shadow the hedgehog

yes! he's one of the main party members! listen to intersitital infinity on riley hopkins and their amazing friends!

Trish Una is a girl who is certain she knows what's going on. She shishkebobed Simon from Infinity Train. She is best friends with Shadow the Hedgehog, Mob from Mob Psycho, Alphonse Elric, and technically Shoka Sakurane.

Please vote for Trish she is so so sexy

Trish Una could take over a position of leadership in a preestablished location but could Virtue have a emotionally fraught conversation with carrie white?

vote for trish una, girl who went to another universe, found out she was fictional / a tertiary character at best in her own story, and decided the proper coping method was to punch a guy to shreds

vote for trish una, girl who looked at carrie from the movie carrie and said "i could fix her"

vote for trish una, girl who fought a bear and won

vote for trish una, girl who put a part of herself into a machine in an attempt to control it and inextricably(?) linked the machine to her soul

vote for trish una, girl who might be the devil

Husky (Hope's Hearth):

She can crush a watermelon with her thighs. Or your head. Whatever you prefer.

She's a SPACE PIRATE on the Gilted Rose and uses her massive paws to solve problems. Husky WILL go through you. There is no stopping her.

Also did you know she's so big, a honey badger person can stand on her tits like a shelf?

She committed a successful honey heist and stole from a fascist empire. She helped save an eldritch god's girlfriend from demons who had taken over his library castle. She threatened to kill her boss, who she thought had been dead, because he was being a coward.

She's fat and powerful and deserves this.

did I mention she's a lesbian

A giant polar bear woman

This is propaganda for all the female characters. Voters please remember how pretty all women are and factor that into every single vote you make. Thank you.

Did I mention Husky is also a wizard, with stats in Sexy, Battle, and Wizard? Guess which stat is her highest

VOTE FOR MY HOT BEAR GIRLFRIEND

VOTE FOR SPANKS' INCREDIBLY HOT BEAR GIRLFRIEND

Spanks: THAT'S MY EXTREMELY HOT POLY GIRLFRIEND WHO I WOULD GLADLY MARRY IF SHE WAS COOL WITH IT babe did you bang a centipede and also a bird thing that's hot

Husky: We discuss marriage later, Пупсик.

We need everyone to vote for Husky

I would like to submit that Husky is a giant polar bear woman who is perpetually being climbed by a slightly smaller, but equally butch honey badger woman. And we all know honey badgers don't give a fuck. I'm just saying!

VOTE! FOR! THE! LESBIAN! BEAR!

Vote for a woman who can be sexy in multiple ways. She's a space pirate, she's a femme, she's a lesbian polar bear alien, she's fat. Vote for Husky!

Being able to pick up a man by his scruff and threaten him in a low voice without using your gun is sexy.

Audio message to Sammy Sinclair.

#2024 Round 6 #Trish Una #Husky #Trish Una RHATAF #Husky Hope's Hearth #Riley Hopkins And Their Amazing Friends #Hope's Hearth #Interstitial Infinity #Interstitial

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hotvintagepoll · 1 year ago

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Propaganda

Gregory Peck (Spellbound, To Kill a Mockingbird, Roman Holiday)—i mean, just look at him. his performance in to kill a mockingbird is probably responsible for millions of people being into dilfs. aside from being absurdly gorgeous, he was also a genuinely good person and a political activist throughout his life! (you know a guy is great when he was listed as a personal enemy of richard nixon.)

Anthony Perkins (Psycho, On The Beach, Fear Strikes Out)—submitted: this fancam

This is round 3 of the bracket. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage man.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut]

“Handsome face, beautiful eyes, amazing voice- what else do you need?”

"Tall, whip-lean, ruggedly handsome, he has a magnetic voice guaranteed to send shivers up and down feminine spines.” -modern screen may 1944

“She mentioned his large frame, his great shoulders and swinging stride. She praised his deep, dark eyes, and his prominent cheek bones. She described his strong jaw line, and his shock of dark hair, one lock always trying to fall forward over his forehead.” -a fan describing gregory peck to her father after seeing him on the big screen for the first time

“His lanky 6' 2 1/2" frame, lithe 170 pounds, unruly brown hair and thoughtful brown eyes”

“With Peck, it's a kindliness and inward strength whose appeal is universal. If you were to put into words the feeling he gave you, you'd say something like this: "That's a guy to trust. That's a guy you could talk to if you needed to talk to someone. He could touch a raw spot without hurting it too much. You could take courage from him" -modern screen august 1946

"Another thing about Peck. He sees you, if you know what I mean. To most of them, you're the unit man or the hairdresser or the little fellow who comes around with cokes. Beyond that they don't look. Greg's aware of you as an individual. Not that he starts asking about your ulcers. You just know he sees humans as humans first — not as cogs in a machine." -a girl who worked at the studio when asked about him

Anthony Perkins and Gregory Peck propaganda:

#gregory peck #anthony perkins #round 3 #hotvintagepoll #fuck that old man

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medievalandfantasymelee · 1 year ago

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COME ONE, COME ALL to the MOSTE ILLUSTRIOUS TOURNAMENT of the FINEST, the MOSTE PUISSANT and HOTTEST MEN MEDIEVAL MEDIA HAS TO ITS CREDIT.

Our Noble and Worthy contenders have come from 128 Properties throughout the land and stand numbered at 296, out of some 400 submissions.

A complete list of our Noble and Worthy Contenders may be found here.

A summary of The Qualifying Round Matchups may be found here

THE TOURNEY IS UNDERWAY!!!!

Our contest began with a Qualifying Round, which consisted of 148 matchups.

The Third Round of Competition has commenced!

This round will last three days and consisted of six Tilts (polls) per day of competition posted at ten minute intervals beginning at 4:00 PM by the reckoning of Eastern Standard Time. At the conclusion of this round, the two contenders who won by the narrowest margins and the two contenders who won with the fewest votes will be pitted against each other - thus the contenders for the next round shall number sixteen.

A complete list of Matchups in this round may be found here, updating daily.

A masterpost with links to all rounds of the competition (current and previous) may be found HERE.

We have also completed voting for the second round of the Queen of Love and Beauty Mini Tournament. The Queen of Love and Beauty holds the honour of presenting unto the winner of the Tournament his Champion's coronet. It is a mini-bracket capped at 72 contenders. Polls for the Queen of Love and Beauty will be posted prior to the commencement of each round of the Tournament proper until a Queen is chosen.

Between rounds we also like to run (just for fun) some exit polls and father and son match-ups. master posts to those may be found below:

Exit and Extra Polls Masterpost Fathers VS. Sons Masterpost

New to the Tourney? Please read our Oft Asked Questions

All propaganda is submitted by the voters and does not necessarily reflect the opinions of The Master of Revels or The Hot Medieval & Fantasy Men Melee

ADDITIONAL NOTE: I do not choose the pictures featured in the propaganda sections, and I only use pictures submitted by voters. If you think that a contender you support is poorly represented, it is not my fault and it is up to you to change that. It is not my job to choose propaganda of any kind for the Contenders and I only work with what I have been given.

#pre tournament #housekeeping #entrants

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jackiepackiee · 5 months ago

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Telemachus x Apollo Blessed! Reader

Chapter Four

Masterlist

Previously…

“Fine, I’ll go back.” Agreeing, a breath left your lips as you finally relaxed your decision.

…

“And~ maybe become his princess.”

“Apollo!”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Staring out his window at the moonlight drifting on the ocean, Telemachus let his head fall against his forearm. Running his fingers through his hair with his free arm he tugged out the royal gold accessories it held, tossing it over to his bed.

Unable to handle the warmth that lived in his cheeks, like some kind of parasite that refused to fade from his face.

“Troubled?” A rich voice spoke from the wall of his room. Familiar in sound, with a tone of slight interest.

“Athena!” He yelped, head shooting out of his arm and up to the source of the sound. Moonlight allowing his cool eyes to scan the room for the woman.

“You can’t just sneak into my room.” Even at his protest, she just stood still when his eyes found her against the back wall of his room.

Calmly, she spoke with a simple expression. “I’ve been here the whole time.”

“Whole time?!?” His voice let out a bit louder than he intended, eyes widening at her admission. He quickly became quieter, shoulders shrinking into his chest. “…How long is the whole time?”

She responded matter of fact, looking him up and down in his vulnerable position. “Since you saw that musician girl.”

Once he heard her admission he looked away, down to his desk that held practice swords and notes of monsters from myths and legends.

“I know nothing about music.” He admitted, gesturing to his display of things that had nothing to do with art.

Athena hummed, not sparing a glance to his collection of weaponry. “That isn’t the reason you are troubled.”

Knowing he couldn’t lie to the literal goddess of wisdom, his head dropped and his gaze fell to his feet.

“Telemachus, you cannot let yourself be weakened because of a girl’s appearance. Bravery in showing up to your lesson shouldn’t be altered by that.” It wasn’t likely that Athena could understand, as a goddess that was known for an absolute lack of romance.

“It’s not just about looks!” He protested, crossing his arms. “Yeah… well she is pretty. But!” He paused, stopping before his voice got too defensive.

She looked unimpressed, waiting for his continuation as he tried to regain his composure.

“The way she was talking to the maids. How polite and kind she was.” As he recounted the earlier memories of that day, he sat on his bed, eyes looking out to the untamed ocean once more.

“She wasn’t boasting about her talent, or speaking to me like I’m some scary royal who demands everything.” As he went on, his hands began to fiddle with his arm brackets. Unable to sit still as he ranted.

“Oh! And that song I heard her play while she was waiting. It was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard.” Before he could continue, he tore his eyes from the water and looked at Athena. She was standing still, hands on her hips with eyes that held an expression he wasn’t familiar with.

If only he knew how much he sounded like his father, Odysseus, when he first heard of Penelope…

Telemachus quieted down, slowly leaning to lay his back on his bed. Pulling one of his pillows to his face.

“I’ll go.” He mumbled into the cloth, almost frustrated at how worked up he was over one meeting.

“Good.” Athena said, not able to shake the weird feeling of nostalgia out of her head, before turning into her owl form and leaving for the night.

Telemachus, left alone with his thoughts on how to prepare to talk to this girl he barely knew.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You stood in front of the mountain side entrance of the palace, stone walls towering over you and your lyre.

Apollo wasn’t around, which was strange considering his usual teasing. Especially when you’re about to spend an hour with the cute prince boy of Ithaca.

‘Not cute. Just a prince.’ You reminded yourself, shaking your head before one of the maids came from around the garden section and greeted you.

“Right this way, my lady.” She smiled at you, waving her hand to the door before opening it and leading you into the hall.

Following behind her through the unfamiliar halls, you kept your gaze flickering around the walls to take in all you could.

It was quiet in this section, as the maid had mentioned in passing conversation. Apparently it was the most peaceful part of the place since only the royals and very special guests were allowed here.

It looked new, yet somehow untouched. Like it wasn’t truly lived in, just passed by.

When you made it to the room you had agreed to teach the prince in, that you had been in days before, it was empty.

Right after you, the queen, Penelope, entered the room.

“Is Telemachus here?” She asked the maid who guided you, frowning when she shook her head.

Her brows furrowed in thought, turning to face the door.

“I wouldn’t mind waiting.” You said, smiling politely at her in your offer. As quickly as you spoke she shook her head. She seemed calmed, not upset at her son, but rather frustrated at having to make a guest wait.

“No, my dear. We will find him.” It was an indirect order, and the maids with her and you left the room to search.

“You may do as you please, apologies.” She spoke to you, bowing her head before she left. Leaving you to your own devices.

So, with nothing but time and curiosity you walked out of the room and down the hall. Passing by maids checking the other rooms and windows giving you a view of the city.

Before you could get too distracted by the beautiful landscape, a noise caught your attention.

A soft clang of metal.

You had heard rumors of who stayed in the palace, but it was unlikely those spoken of “suitors” would be in the most private part of the palace.

Fearlessly, you turned the hall to the open landing off the balcony. Just to see the prince himself with a sword in hand panting softly while a rather roughed up looking training post stood in front of him.

He didn’t notice you, taking a break to cool off before he started to swing his sword again.

Before his arms could take part in their rotation to attack the post, he froze in place.

It was the same song he had heard yesterday, that same beautiful melody. And you sat on the balcony, strumming your lyre and staring at the sky as if you didn’t notice his presence.

Before he could call out to you, you looked down at him with a soft smile.

“Oh no, please don’t let me disturb you!” You called, waving your hand before returning to your song. Plucking the instrument with ease.

He was just staring up at you for a good ten seconds, letting his sword reside back in its sheath. “You’re very high up, my lady!” He choked out, finally, shaking his head to gain composure once more.

“Am I?” You questioned, mindlessly playing the lyre. “Maybe you’re just very down low.” Teasing, you went back to creating your music.

He bit his tongue, unable to create any kind of response to your joke. His only reaction was a slight flush to his cheeks.

“What song is that?” He asked, trying to steer the conversation away from his reddening face.

You shrugged, looking down at the golden instrument that your hands held at your stomach. “I’m not sure, but we can learn it in your lesson if you’d like. You can even help me name it.” Your voice was light and teasing, but he instantly tensed up.

“The lesson! Oh, where has the time gone?” He looked at his training post before walking over to the wall below the side you were on.

“It’s not an issue, my prince. It’s only a few minutes-“ Stopping, you couldn’t seem to speak.

He began to climb the vines on the stone wall that acted as a ladder to the balcony, a rather dangerous climb in the eyes of anyone not physically capable.

“What are you doing?!” You yelled, eyes widening as he continued his assent.

“You said you’re here to teach me, and this is the fastest way.” Speaking, he didn’t lose a single beat during his climb. “It’s not polite to make a lady wait.” He spoke matter-of-fact-ly, before eventually making it to your side.

He made his way onto the balcony next to you, smiling at you kindly.

“Are you crazy?” Pointing at him, and looking down at the place he just climbed, you couldn’t help but ask.

Looking embarrassed, he shrugged and his shoulders turned inwards a little.

Until you laughed. First, a small huff before a full giggle at his antics. Shocked and amused by his actions, you laughed.

And he thought it was the best sound ever, even better than the music from your lyre.

Taglist - @dog-and-cat-person230 @m-carriaga2021 @blessedbyahuntress @cleawritesstuff @b4ts1e @permanently-nothere @kaguraaaa @rockyeatrock @keikeiluvyou @hijinkxy @doodle-with-rhy @barrythestrawberry041 @dazedemery @sunshinewhosketches @bafb1tch @lethby @pjopinkk @nishayuro @moonlitenvyillust @emmy6999 @theyumeeighth @plushiesssforcrying @mh4r-squared @biscuit-sa @sofiafantasies

#telemachus epic the musical #telemachus epic #telemachus x reader #telemachus #epic the musical x reader #epic x reader #epic #epic the musical

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turtletaubwrites · 1 year ago

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Numbers Game ~ Chapter 21

For Now

Pairings: Cross Guild x Fem!Reader x Shanks

Numbers Game Masterlist

Word Count: 4.8k+

Ao3 Link

Series Playlist: Youtube Music Link | Youtube Link

Summary: It's hard to sleep the night before the big event. Everyone finds ways to cope with the stress.

Author's Note: This chapter contains big TRAUMA/DRAMA/HURT, but also big SMUT and COMFORT, I swear!! However, the flashback includes the trauma of the reader's father's death. I have bracketed that section between these symbols ~~~⚫⚫⚫~~~ and you can skip it without missing the story. Please do not read that section if parental death, trauma, shipwrecks, panic attacks, or grief may be triggering for you!

Alternate POV Symbols:

!!! SPOILER WARNING !!! Fic contains spoilers for the end of the Wano arc

Rating/Warnings: Author May Choose to Exclude some Warnings to Avoid Spoilers for Certain Chapters, Explicit Sexual Content, 18+ ONLY, MDNI, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, Use of Y/N, Dark Content, Blood & Violence, PTSD, Panic Attacks, Dissociation, Grief, Death of Minor Original Character, Swearing, Alcohol, Cigars, Smut, Fluff, Angst, Drama, Jealousy, Manipulation, Humiliation, Pet Names, Power Imbalance, Cross Guild boys are VILLAINS, Parental Death, Possessive Behavior, Teasing, Threats, Size Difference, Daddy Kink, Anal, Hair-Pulling, Blowjobs, Face Slapping, Degradation, Inappropriate Use of Akuma no Mi | Devil Fruit Powers, Shameless Shameless Smut, Other Additional Tags to Be Added

~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~

Gods fucking damn it.

Shanks had the presence of mind to pull on his pants before running away from that room, but now he was wandering down the corridor with sex all over his skin, a sticky reminder of the scene he’d just left.

Fuck.

His clothes were in the middle suite, the one nextdoor to the room he’d just fled from like a coward.

Buggy’s scent, so precious, so craved for so long, made him want to smash his head against the wall.

The way they kissed…

Shanks opened the next door he saw, finding another suite, remarkably full of exactly what he needed. Except for the fact that it all belonged to that swordsman.

He’d found Mihawk’s “closet,” an entire suite of wardrobes, coat racks, and shelves for all of his annoying boots.

He wanted to burn it all to ash.

Shanks stomped across the suite, relieved to find the extravagant bathroom fully stocked. Stripping out of those sticky pants, he struggled with the fancy soap in its pretty packaging. Normally, he’d be able to unwrap it easily, years of practice with one hand.

But right now, his fingers were shaking, and he needed to get that fucking smell off of him.

Growling as he tore the soapy paper with his teeth, Shanks managed to get under the water, scrubbing himself like he was warding off disease. He resisted the urge to yell and curse since he didn’t want his old “friend” to hear him.

He fought with piles of fabric, hissing with annoyance until he found one of those frilly fucking shirts, tugging on the softest, loosest pants he could find. He pulled the laces tight, but left them untied, strings hanging down over his thighs as he left his sex-covered pants in Mihawk's giant closet.

Booze. Where the fuck is the booze?

Shanks became nothing, but that singular goal. The Emperor of the Sea was about to search every fucking room he passed until he remembered where he needed to go. Where he’d find the relief he needed.

It’s that room. The one with that stupid, green couch.

~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~

~~~~~~

You didn’t answer.

No storms.

No ships.

No voice calling your name.

Just the snail on the desk, and your pencil in your hand.

Then there was your body, trapped and suffocating. Too much heat, too much, too much!

You gasped when you woke, tasting the middle of the night on the air. Buggy’s upper body had tilted away from you, but his leg had you trapped, panicking with the need to move. Crocodile’s massive arm wrapped around you like a cage, and your breath went too light, too fast, too close to a scream.

Whimpers left your throat as you tried to wriggle free without waking the sleeping pirates. You managed to scoot down a few inches before that giant hand grasped your throat, pulling you against his chest.

“Sorrysorrysorrysor–”

“Fuck, I’m sorry, sweetheart,” Crocodile hissed, pulling his hand and body away from you, letting you breathe. His voice was full of sleep, groaning a bit as he rubbed his hand over his face. “Had a dream you were– Are you alright, babygirl?”

A tiny, sad laugh left your throat, and he kissed the top of your head.

“What do ya need?”

The darkened ceiling stole all of your focus for an unknowable amount of time before you breathed out your answer.

“I want to see Adam.”

~~~

“I thought you hated Adam,” you whispered, tugging on your robe before you left the room. You’d kissed Buggy’s cheek, pulling the blanket over his snoring form. Your mind struggled for a moment when you realized that there was no one else on the bed, but Crocodile touched your elbow, guiding you to the hallway before you could think about it too long.

“Why would I hate such a tiny creature,” he snorted as he opened the door to that cat paradise. Adam came up to you first, then rubbed himself against Crocodile’s bare ankles beneath his long, velvet smoking jacket. His sharp eyes glanced toward the cat’s servant that was dozing softly by the door. “Come back in two hours.”

Giggling while the guard hurried out, you laid on the carpet to spend time with your little tabby cat.

Not mine. Just pretend.

Heat filled your throat as you fought against an odd guilt. Guilt that you weren’t showing this innocent animal the perfect happiness that he deserved. Guilt that you were struggling to keep pretending.

“Sweetheart…”

Crocodile joined you on the floor. Sitting against the wall with his long legs stretched out for Adam to rub along, he offered you his comfort. He pulled you to him when you nodded, grabbing a pillow from the couch to set on his lap when Adam wouldn’t stop jumping onto that fancy, green jacket.

You leaned into his warmth, breathing in the scent of cigars while you curled up against him. Petting the purring cat, you smiled at how relaxed Adam was on the lap of your frightening lover.

No. It’s all just pretend.

“Your dad told you that story, right,” he asked softly, touching a tentative finger to the top of Adam’s head. “About the Jewel Tree Adam?”

“Yeah.”

“What other stories did he tell you?”

Crocodile’s voice was so deep, so soothing. That question made you sink into yourself, struggling between a smile and a frown.

“Most stories were about trees, or what they’re used to build. And math, always math. Great mathematicians that made their worlds better. But that story was my favorite.”

His strong fingers were so gentle as he trailed them through your hair, down your face, your arm, rubbing his thumb over your hand before letting you pet Adam again.

“Why don’t you tell me about him? Anyone that loved my sweet girl like that deserves my respect.”

Strange pride and sorrow made your eyes clench shut, pressing your face into his chest.

“He loved me,” you agreed, voice almost silent as you slipped away from the moment.

“But he cursed me.”

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

The end of the semester was close, and you’d already finished all of your assignments. Just the final was left now, and you knew you didn't need to study. You knew you’d already killed this class.

But the sound of your pencil scraping away, the crisp scent of your textbook, your dad’s comfy desk chair… It was all comforting.

Moving numbers around was satisfying. Especially when he’d come home, and go over every assignment with you, making up his own so you could show him how you thought things through.

You were erasing a mistake, brushing the bits off of your paper when your dad’s transponder snail rang. A little yelp left your throat as its lazy eyes turned to stare at you. You’d never heard a call this late before, even after all the nights you’d accidentally fallen asleep at his desk.

Should I answer?

The snail went on and on, until you finally reached for it, wanting to help your dad by taking a message.

“Y/N?”

“Dad?”

~~~⚫⚫⚫~~~

“Y/N?”

“Dad, is that–”

“Y/N? Can you hear me?”

“Dad?”

“Y/N, sweetheart! You can hear me?”

“Barely,” you yelled at the snail, struggling to hear through whatever chaos was happening.

There were people yelling.

Noises you didn’t understand.

Until thunder explained it all.

Waves.

Wood creaking.

Sylvad wood creaking.

Cracking.

“Y/N?”

“Daddy, what’s–”

“I love you, sweetheart. I love you so–”

Louder yells, louder sounds. Your body was about to explode with a terror you couldn’t acknowledge.

I fell asleep at the desk. This is a dream.

“Y/N?”

“I hear you, daddy,” you lied, pressing your ear close to the snail even as the crashing and creaking echoed through his peaceful office.

“My girl,” he praised, his voice straining over so many horrible sounds. “Knew you’d be working, my little numbers girl. Please be happy, be–”

Daddy’s voice.

His scream.

So many screams, and crashes, and Sylvad wood splintering beneath waves, until the snail finally gave nothing but choked, watery gasps.

…

“Dad?”

Your head was shaking back and forth, warding off what couldn’t be real.

“Daddy, can you hear me?”

The snail’s eyes looked even wider, even more hypnotizing when you clenched your fist around it, shaking the strange creature while you screamed, begging it to bring back the voice that had called for you on that stormy ship.

“DADDY??!!!”

~~~⚫⚫⚫~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

“Shh, I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” Crocodile soothed while your panicked breathing made you shake. “I’m sorry you had to hear that. Thank you for trusting me. I’m right here, babygirl. Not going anywhere.”

Why did I tell him that? He’s just going to sell me. Just going to use this against me.

Those instinctive, defensive thoughts fell apart as his voice kept washing over you. As Adam crawled off of his lap onto you, reaching up to rub his chin along yours until you held him, and sobbed.

You’d never told anyone about your dad’s last call. That you’d heard your dad’s last words.

The only people that knew about it were people that had used it against you. Had judged you. Had screamed at you.

Had sent you…

“Don’t tell anyone,” you begged, panic flooding your veins. “Please, don’t–”

“No one,” Crocodile vowed, his words heavier than the island you laid upon. “You know I’m here for you, Y/N. Anything you need.”

Somehow, relaxation moved through your body. Your mind battled between distrust and comfort, fear and peace. The contradictions gave you a headache, but soon you were nodding off against his warm, powerful body. A body that had frightened and satisfied you, overwhelmed and spoiled you.

A body that was now poised to protect you.

“You can sleep, sweet girl. Daddy’s here. I’ll keep you safe.”

“Thank you, Daddy.”

~~~~~~

~~~🗡️🗡️🗡️~~~

Mihawk had no trouble crawling out of bed without waking his lovers. No trouble slipping on his silk robe as stepped into the hall. No trouble following that taunting voice to the lounge.

He had trouble opening the door.

“Don’t be shy, old friend. Come on in.”

I’m a coward.

“We haven’t got all night, Hawk Eyes.”

The rage in those teasing words had Mihawk’s hair standing on end.

I deserve it. I deserve every ounce of anger he wants to drown me in. Don’t be a fucking coward.

“There you are,” Shanks cheered, holding his arm out wide in welcome, a mostly empty bottle of wine sloshing in his hand. “My gracious host. Take a seat.”

Mihawk walked through the wine scented air, joining his old friend on that pretty, green couch. He wanted to stab himself in the leg for his urge to caution Shanks against spilling red onto the velvet cushions, or onto his stolen clothes that the emperor looked stunning in, even in his haggard state.

“Don’t be so stiff, Hawky,” Shanks laughed, turning to lounge against the armrest. He stretched his legs across Mihawk’s lap, shoving the bottle toward him until the swordsman took it, chugging the rest.

“What would you like to discuss,” Mihawk drawled, reaching for another already opened bottle on the side table. He almost smiled at how annoyed he used to get when Shanks would open every bottle in sight before drinking, just in case he couldn’t open them later.

He tried to at least look relaxed, but there was nowhere to rest his feet. Servants had cleaned up the splintered remains of Crocodile’s rage, but they hadn’t replaced the coffee table yet. Guilt started filling him again at the thought of all the lovely and terrible things he’d done on that table.

“Gee, I wonder,” Shanks mocked, snatching the new bottle, and taking a generous swig. “Why don’t we start at the beginning?”

~~~🗡️🗡️🗡️~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🔴🗡️🔴🗡️~~~

Shanks was glad the wine had dulled him, because his desire to kill the swordsman was still incredibly high.

Instead, he drank more.

And more.

Then he started, and he couldn’t stop.

“You left me in that tavern,” Shanks growled, almost reaching out to strangle the man when he had the gall to look confused.

The tavern… Of course.

Shame. An incredible amount of shame slammed into Mihawk, and all he could do was nod, grabbing another bottle for himself. Shanks had clearly prepared to stay on this couch, setting open bottles around everywhere, just waiting to spill.

“You told me love was boring,” Shanks spat, an old scar scraping open. “Don’t be boring, Shanks.”

“I–”

“You laughed at me. I told you I loved you, and you laughed in my fucking face!”

Mihawk had to close his eyes, the burn of bile creeping up his throat. He tried to speak again, but Shanks wasn’t done seething.

“You left me there. I got over it,” Shanks lied to himself. “We went back to drinking and fucking everytime we’d cross paths. So much fun, pretending that never happened. But I was okay with it.”

He gave a tired laugh at his own words, drinking more before he lost it.

“You’re Dracule Mihawk. Heartless. Cold. Of course you couldn’t feel that with me. You couldn’t feel it with anyone. I could live with that.”

“I’m…”

Mihawk couldn’t stomach the pain moving across his friend’s face. He wanted to look away, to run away, but this was the least he could do. To witness what his selfishness had caused.

“But now? With Buggy,” Shanks choked, looking up and away while he swallowed the heat in his throat. It wasn’t enough, his voice cracking when he met those horrible, golden eyes again. “My Buggy? Now you’re taking the only other person... Why are you taking him from me?”

“Shanks, I…” Mihawk failed. There were muscles moving in his face that were weak, that had never been allowed to move before.

Why does this hurt more than a fucking stab wound?

“What the fuck did I ever do to you,” Shanks cursed, stumbling off of the couch, his voice more manic with every step he took while he paced. “Were you sent from the fucking hells just to torture me? To take everything?”

“Please,” Mihawk begged. He didn’t know what he was begging for, but he couldn’t stop the need.

“You broke my fucking heart, Hawk! You laughed while you did it. And now you’re making me watch you… Why the fuck are you doing this to me?”

Shanks couldn’t think, couldn’t even drink, dropping the bottle to stain the soft carpet before tearing at his hair. He needed to fucking scream, to rage, to fight. Anything but let these pathetic tears keep burning in his eyes for this fucking monster.

“I’m so sorry,” the monster breathed, barely able to speak over the hatred that had replaced every drop of blood in his body. Hatred for himself, for a life wasted, for this pain. This pain that he’d… “I wish—”

“Wish what? Wish there was something else I love that you could fucking destroy? Why don’t you go slice my ship in two, huh? Go ahead, kill my crew. Then you’ll really get me. Take fucking everything you fucking demon. You fucking–”

“I’m sorry,” Mihawk cried out. Falling to his knees, he managed to grab Shanks’ hand with both of his, bowing his head against all those shaking fingers. He begged as he’d never done a day in his life. He cried more tears than he knew existed in his cold, unfeeling body. He let those tears fall onto their hands, vicious sobs ripping through him as he felt his heart break from his own selfish cruelty and cowardice.

“I’m so sorry, Shanks. I don’t know what to… I know I can’t do anything. I don’t know why it took me so long, I hate… I fucking hate myself for this. I wish I could…”

Mihawk pulled at his hand, desperately crying at his feet, and Shanks was frozen. Shock wasn’t strong enough for the sight before him. The red haired pirate was stunned. He couldn’t fucking believe what was happening. After Mihawk cried enough to soak all their fingers in salty tears, Shanks plopped onto the floor in front of him, leaving his hand to be cradled like one of the stray kittens Mihawk had saved.

“You didn’t do this on purpose?”

Shanks’ quiet wonderment pulled fresh tears and pleading from the world’s greatest swordsman.

“No,” Mihawk laughed, raw and weak. “Gods, no. I’d do anything to fix this, but I…”

He caught those gorgeous brown eyes, wide as they scanned his wretched face.

“I’m a monster. I destroy everything around me. I wish I’d never met–”

Salty, quivering lips, a touch that stopped their breath. Old friends, old lovers, having their first real kiss after decades behind masks.

They clung to each other, ignoring everything they knew they’d have to deal with. For now, Mihawk and Shanks poured every feeling they’d ever held back into each other.

For now, they kissed.

~~~🔴🗡️🔴🗡️~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🤡🤡🤡~~~

It’s cold.

Star!?

Buggy reached for nothing, a moment of panic that didn’t fade when he moved his arms around the empty bed. The bed that should have had three of his lovers on it.

Maybe four…

“Y/N? Are you in here, star?”

Buggy’s body floated through the room in pieces, a silent search that offered no clues, no relief from the pressure around his lungs.

Gone. Everyone’s gone.

Why would they all leave me here alone? Are they okay? Why didn’t they–

They didn’t want me.

Buggy choked on that thought. Choked on how fucking loud it was. Choked on the fears he’d been swimming in since his old friend had dropped back into his life.

What if I make the wrong choice? What if I lose everything?

What if I end up alone again?

He pulled his body together, fighting the sick feeling swirling in his gut while he found his pajama pants.

“It’s fine. Everything’s fine. They all just got hungry at the same time, and left me all alone.”

His comforting words turned sour too fast, and he took deep breaths like he did before taking the stage.

“Y/N? Are you out here,” he called softly, the long, empty corridor stretching on like a nightmare, like he’d never find his love again.

“In here, Buggy.”

The clown caught himself, cutting off the yelp he’d let out at the deep whisper from the door across the hall.

“Quiet,” Crocodile ordered, barely audible from Adam’s room.

Buggy held his breath when he opened the door, but still couldn’t breathe when he found the owner of that voice. Crocodile was leaning back against the wall, sitting on the floor. Y/N was curled up beside him while Adam was snuggled into a tight circle on a throw pillow, perched atop the ex-warlord’s lap.

The clown just stared for a minute until Crocodile sighed.

“Can you help me? I don’t wanna wake up our girl.”

The larger man raised a brow, glaring until Buggy moved, floating his arms as carefully as he could to lift Y/N into the air.

Our girl…

~~~🤡🤡🤡~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🤡🐊🤡🐊~~~

Do I just push it off? Will I hurt it?

Crocodile wanted to give his full attention to his pretty lovers as they left this ridiculous room, but he studied the purring cat as if it were a ticking bomb.

He shifted, tilting slightly as he tugged a corner of the throw pillow to slide it off of his lap.

Adam made a sleepy, disgruntled noise as he squeezed his paws over his face, almost like pulling a blanket over his eyes to ward off the morning.

Crocodile snorted, startling the cat out of his relaxed, circular pose, just when he'd gotten the pillow off of his lap and onto the floor.

Adam stretched toward him as he stood, but Crocodile had much cuter creatures he needed to cuddle.

~~~

Our girl.

Buggy didn’t think he’d ever held something with more care, not even his most explosive Buggy Balls. He carried Y/N to the center of that giant bed, floating random parts of his body to shove the pillows and blanket into place before setting her down.

“He’s calling.”

“Shh, baby. Just sleep now.”

Buggy set her up, his upper body floating above her while he made sure her face looked peaceful.

He bit his tongue to fight the surprised yelp he let out when a large hand touched his hip.

He's so soft with her.

Crocodile stood beside Buggy’s lower half at the foot of the bed, watching the gentle care his clown gave to their sleeping sweetheart. He chuckled at the shocked sound from Buggy’s throat, glad that it hadn’t woken her up.

Buggy followed the ex-warlord after he jerked his head toward the far wall, sitting on the new loveseat.

What happened to the old one?

“Come here,” Crocodile rasped. Buggy hesitated, but let himself be pulled into that world, Crocodile’s warm arm wrapping around his shoulders as he leaned down to whisper. “Sorry we left you alone, little clown. Didn’t wanna interrupt your beauty sleep.”

The tiny noise that escaped Buggy’s lips made Crocodile want to keep teasing. He was looking forward to making his little clown blush and squirm for him.

But their girl needed them tonight.

“Thank you for protecting her from me. I’ll never be able to repay that debt.”

Buggy was shaking. All the words Crocodile had spoken to him the last few days were overwhelming, confusing, enticing.

These words held respect, and it hurt. Pride almost poured in, but Buggy couldn’t help but wait for the joke.

He was everyone’s favorite punchline.

Crocodile frowned at the frown on Buggy's face.

“Help me protect her,” he urged, holding his hand out as he stood. “She needs you right now, Buggy.”

The clown stood slowly, unsteady on his feet as he blinked up at that frightening face.

That face that had terrorized him. Had made him fight, pathetically fail to fight, just for the slim chance that he could save his star from whatever harm this monster might inflict.

That face that had made her smile, made her scream, that had called him pretty things.

That face leaned down, a slow smile hovering close.

“All you gotta do is tell me what you want, little clown,” Crocodile purred, breathing in pleasure at the sight of those wide, crystal eyes, and those lips parted in soft awe while this pretty clown stared up at him. “Do you wanna help me take care of her?”

“Yes, daddy,” Buggy breathed, not realizing he’d spoken until the words left his lips.

“Good boy.”

They shared a kiss, quiet and quick before they cradled their sleeping girl, and fell into dreams.

That quiet kiss held a weight, a heaviness that seemed to anchor them in place. To draw them close. But for now, they left the kiss where it was.

For now, they slept.

~~~🤡🐊🤡🐊~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🔴🗡️🔴🗡️~~~

Whimpers.

There’d never been so many panicked whimpers between them. Plenty of needy whines, hungry moans, and filthy gasps, but the noises that left their throats tonight needed their own word.

Tonight, true need flowed through them. A need to make up for every moment they should have cherished.

Mihawk thought his tears were done, but every time they’d pull back to take a breath, he’d see Shanks’ face. His old friend. That lovely, crooked smile.

“You gonna help me feel good, bright eyes,” Shanks teased, his voice shaky as it fought for lightness. “I’d say it’s the least you can do.”

The swordsman barked a healing laugh, stretching his body toward the ceiling before wrapping his arms around Shanks’ neck, twisting his fingers into that red hair.

“I think I owe you a lifetime’s worth of pleasure. How can I—“

“Take your fucking clothes off, slut,” Shanks grinned, his body pulsing at how those simple words made his friend’s eyes flutter with need. “Don’t keep me waiting.”

Mihawk couldn’t hold in a moan at those deep, burning words. His hands flew to work, tearing each garment away from them both, not giving a fuck about where they landed. Not giving a fuck about anything besides feeling Shanks’ perfect cock, rubbing his hands along that silky flesh, licking at him, savoring his taste like the finest of wines.

“There you are,” Shanks purred, stroking his fingers through Mihawk’s hair as those intense eyes stared up at him. “I always knew you were good. So good for me. Just wanna please me, huh?”

“Mhm,” Mihawk nodded, voice muffled around that thick cock.

“This’ll be even more satisfying than usual,” Shanks laughed before he yanked Mihawk off of him, tearing at that soft, black hair while the swordsman twitched in painful pleasure. “That’s what you want, isn’t it? My golden boy doesn’t wanna be a monster. You just wanna get fucked by a monster.”

“Fuck, Shanks, plea–”

“Shut your mouth,” Shanks ordered, giving that perfect face a back handed slap. “You shouldn’t have gotten so good at fighting, friend. Can’t get off to getting fucking wrecked if no one can touch you. Must be so desperate, huh, baby? Want me to hurt you?”

Mihawk's eyes were already rolling white, his tongue hanging loose while he nodded.

“Think you deserve that? If you can’t even let me hear your pretty voice?”

“Shanks, need you so bad. Hurt me, daddy, pleease...”

“That’s what I fucking thought,” Shanks bragged, pleasure running through him. “Take me to a room I can fuck you in. Need to teach my little hole a lesson.”

“The table,” Mihawk gasped, reaching over the pull at the drawer of the side table, revealing a bottle of lube and a hand towel.

“You fucking slut,” Shanks laughed, shoving Mihawk onto his stomach before grabbing the lube. He poured it over his old friend's ass, smirking at how he twitched when the cold liquid touched his skin, dripping down onto that sensitive little hole he was about to rip apart. Watching his fingers sinking into him wasn’t nearly enough. “Tell me what you want.”

“Want you so–”

“Tell me what my slutty little boy wants before I walk out that fucking door.”

“Hurt me, daddy,” Mihawk cried out, his body twitching and curling with need, the rough fingers inside of him driving him mad. “Hurt me, fuck me so fucking hard, please.”

He was almost sobbing with that plea, his body on fire.

Shanks.

Gods, it was Shanks.

He was–

“How’d you like that,” Shanks taunted, eating up the sight of Mihawk’s reddened ass, the brutal slap bringing a filthy moan from the man’s throat.

“So good, daddy, please more,” he begged, “Hurt me, ruin– Fuuucck, daddyyy! Mmn, please…”

“That’s right,” Shanks growled, his body taking what it needed from the willing and desperate flesh beneath it. “Missed daddy's cock so bad, huh? Slutty little hole, just waiting for me to find you, to fuck you like the nasty whore you are?”

“Yes, please,” Mihawk begged, drooling onto the carpet.

“Gonna come for daddy? Gonna come like a good little slut?”

“P-please, hurt–”

“Ha, greedy little hole,” Shanks laughed, shoving harder, deeper, while Mihawk made such, delicious, pathetic noises. “Tell me what you are first, and daddy might be nice.”

“I'm your slut, daddy’s whore, your nasty little hole, your–”

Mihawk came onto the plush carpet when Shanks bit into his neck, teeth sinking deep as the red haired pirate filled his needy ass with come.

“Shanks, daddy…”

Shanks growled through that mouthful of skin, his last few thrusts more brutal at the memory of someone else getting called by his name. But then his eyes rolled back as he finished sinking himself into the perfect body of his old friend.

His old something more.

Mihawk whimpered, gasping when Shanks released his neck to kiss, and lick, and breathe along that sensitive skin. Shanks hummed with pleasure at those sweet little sounds, his cock still twitching inside that needy hole.

“Missed me, didn’t you,” Shanks breathed, heat and satisfaction radiating from him.

“Always,” Mihawk told the truth. “I always miss you.”

~~~🔴🗡️🔴🗡️~~~

~~~~~~

“What’s he doing here?”

“Good morning to you too.”

“Shh, she’s still sleeping.”

“We need to get ready, it’s–”

“Daddy?”

You found yourself about to cry when sleep was torn away, but all of those voices reminded you of what a strange world you seemed to be caught in. A world that you hoped was real, even if it meant more torment, more people using you.

Pros and cons.

One of the pros was opening your eyes to find four incredibly powerful, beautiful men on that giant bed with you. All staring at you like you were precious. Like you were worth more than your name.

I’m definitely crazy.

“Shh, babygirl,” Crocodile soothed, kissing your temple to quiet your sick laughter before it could take over another day.

Too tired to panic today, anyway.

Today...

Oh fuck.

Likes, comments, and reblogs bring me much ✨dopamine✨ thank you!!

a/n: I loved writing this one, I hope you enjoyed reading it!

Chapter 22

Operation Olive Branch has compiled a working spreadsheet of ways to help families fleeing from the genocide in Palestine. If you enjoyed this fic, and are able, please click the link to find a list of GoFundMe's, as well as other ways to help.

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