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#sea deity tag >
monstershoard · 2 years
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hi, welcome to @hewhohaunts 's otherkin / alterhuman blog ! my fictionkin stuff is over on @gogevege if youre curious
my name is vinny ! my labels are here ... i am otherkin and realized this around april / may of 2021 ... its been a veryvery important part of my identity ever since ! :3
my kintypes:
sea monster
sea deity
angel
demon
ghost
vampire
please interact if you share kintypes with me, or are otherkin in general . i love making new friends !!
dni if you fit any of the criteria listed on my main blog, thank you <3 !! also please dni if you are deitykin and toxic about it ..,
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happy-emmdings · 1 year
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Give me a character that won’t hesitate to threaten a god or roll their eyes at infinitely powerful entities. Give me a character brave and foolish enough to stand up to fate and death itself. Honestly human hubris in the face of omnipotence is so sexy❤️
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pillow-anime-talk · 11 months
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goddess of peace.
request: can you do any record of ragnarok’s gods character with a female reader who is like zhongli from genshin impact?
# tags: headcanon; strangers to lovers or current relationships or marriage relationships; light romance; a bit of fluff; goddess!reader; calm!reader; sfw
includes: female reader ft. hades, poseidon, heracles, loki & beelzebub {ror}
author’s note: yaaaay first ror request!! gimme more
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— HADES
↘ You impressed many gods with your ever calm expression and voice that soothed everyone to sleep or healed mental wounds. No matter what you said, your gentle, almost shy smile and willingness to help made everyone on Olympus and during important meetings agree with you, although you often asked them to oppose your ideas in case of objections.
↘ Many deities gossip about your marriage to Hades – Lord of Death and King of the Underworld. Hades was the man feared by the entire Greek Pantheon, a class of his own and a god who had lived in solitude for thousands of years, his only friend for eternity being himself. So how did a beautiful, gentle, nature-loving woman like you fall in love with him and decide to live in Helheim? You were, after all, the Goddess of Calligraphy, The protector of Artists.
↘ The answer is very simple though. Hades is a secretive romantic and though the flowers you got from him were always withered, they were always the most beautiful gift you could receive because you knew his feelings were sincere. So, although you often missed the view of the sky, the warmth of the sun, running deer or the view of lakes and fields stretching from Mount Olympus, life with Hades was really wonderful, and he was a gallant gentleman bravely leading you by the hand.
↘ Your aura full of peace and nostalgia for the world of the living gave the underworld colors and warmth.
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— POSEIDON
↘ Your close friend was Zeus, who one day organized a grand banquet for an unknown occasion. As his good friend, the Goddess of Science and Philosophy, you sat right next to him at a huge, round table on which meat dishes, all fresh fruits and vegetables, as well as sweets and wine barrels were arranged. Right next to your left sat the King of the Seas and at the same time the older brother of your best friend. Poseidon never got to know you, though of course he heard your name more than once when he spoke to his brothers and the other gods of Olympus.
↘ You were the definition of calm and prudence; your sparkling eyes studied each guest attentively, and you listened to each story with the greatest concentration. From time to time you answered questions from other, more important gods, thanking for each compliment, remark or approval. The fair-haired man didn’t say much that evening, but for the first time in ages he stayed at the table until the end of the meeting and sometimes, without a word, offering you another glass of alcohol or fresh fruit (in his mind, throughout the party, he wrote the dishes you tasted and the sweets that made the biggest smile on your face).
↘ Poseidon was delighted with you, though he couldn’t admit it. Of course he would never do that, especially among other Greek deities. This would create gossip and unnecessary attention to him. He also didn’t want you to feel embarrassed by unpleasant questions or comments.
↘ At the end of a meeting that seemed to last for years, everyone slowly returning to their realms. You also thanked for the meal and amazing company, saying ‘Goodbye’ to Zeus and the others. Poseidon followed you wordlessly. Before the handsome god submerged into the cold water, in gratitude for the nice time he gave you one of the seashells he once found at the bottom of the Pacific Ocean. Its shell was white and sparkled like a diamond. Before you could thank him though, Poseidon disappeared into the sea foam and you blushed hardly.
↘ In the world of the gods, giving another person a gift related to the profession of a patron was equivalent to a confession of feelings or a proposal.
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— HERACLES
↘ Heracles from the first time he saw you (more than two thousand years ago) knew that you would be his and would do anything to protect your beautiful soul and precious smile. You were the Queen of the Forest and Meadows, so your nature was calm, patient and also timid. Heracles, on the other hand, as a hero and a man for whom respect for a woman was in the first place, of course, wanted to show you how much you mean to him and how precious flower you are.
↘ His behavior and feelings were very visible. He was like a teenager in love with a huge smile and a fast heartbeat whenever he received words of gratitude from you or small compliments about his strength, agility and acts of heroism towards animals or people.
↘ He is literally delighted and acts like a five-year-old after receiving a candy when you agree to go on a date with him. He probably stays awake for the next week, not eating, and begs Aphrodite and Apollo on his knees to help him with his hair and clothes. He is more than stressed when he thinking about your meeting, but he does not forget for a microsecond a bouquet of your favorite flowers, which he gives you with a shy smile, telling you how beautiful you look that day.
↘ When you thank him for them and take his strong, slightly rough from fighting hand, he almost faints, but don’t worry. It will definitely be the best date in the history of the Greek Pantheon.
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— LOKI
↘ You are his opposite. No one among the Norse gods (and in general all deities that exist) understands your relationship and sincerely sympathizes with you, because Loki is the biggest rascal and jester. However, you don’t think you need sympathy or sad looks; on the contrary – next to him you feel really safe and good. This boy is very considerate of you and really appreciates that someone like the Norse Goddess of Poetry took an interest in him and gave him her fragile heart.
↘ Of course, he’s still a bit mischievous towards you, but his pranks never make you angry or sad. It’s more like jokes about Loki turning into an animal or running away from your kisses, flying high so you can’t reach him.
↘ God of Mischief is like a faithful dog when it comes to you. He always stays close to you, always takes a seat to your left, always looks at your interlocutor with bored eyes, and always tries to get your attention with loud laughter, singing and questions. He is a little attention hoe.
↘ Loki, alone with you, is a little poetry expert who brags to you how many books he has read and what new achievements he has made. He is concerned when he sees your sadness – then he tries hard to cheer you up with silly faces and at the same time puts on a mask of seriousness when he sees that you need a longer and serious conversation. Of course, then he will fly away again and pretend to be a mosquito, but as soon as he comes back to you, he will give you a million kisses. After all, you have exactly eternity for your love.
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— BEELZEBUB
↘ He was horrified when he realized you were more than just a friend to him. He decided to distance himself, but you quickly knocked that idea out of his head, proposing a conversation. Of course, your calm voice and small smile immediately soothed the God of Darkness and made him believe that he would be happy with you.
↘ Being the Goddess of Light and Life was completely at odds with who you married after many years. You were like a beautiful tulip and he was a dried chrysanthemum. Extremely different, but perfectly complementary in terms of your characters and feelings. Your calm nature always soothed Beelzebub’s racing thoughts and his sad eyes, which still seemed not to understand why you gave your precious heart to the one possessed by Satan.
↘ However, you were happy with him and although his hand was always cold and his face was pale and often without a smile, you thought that he was the man you wanted to live with until the end of the world and one more day.
↘ Beelzebub had to admit it – he was damn in love with you and your beautiful aura was what honestly illuminated his previously bleak life. From the moment he met you, the man wanted to live and develop again. With such a queen by his side, nothing could destroy him.
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monstersighing · 2 months
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Introduction and Masterlist
This is an 18+ blog. Minors Do Not Interact. Ageless/Under 18 blogs will be blocked.
You can call me Sighs. I'm a 21+ queer, with she/they pronouns.
Masterlist:
[Confessional] - M Priest x AFAB Reader, NSFW (blasphemy, priest kink, penetrative sex, public sex, dirty talk).
[Fearfully and Wonderfully Made] M Eldritch Being/Deity x AFAB Reader, NSFW, (dubious consent, religious kink, corruption, tentacles, voice kink, praise kink, edging, overstim, mindfuck, double penetration - vaginal and anal, cunnilingus). [Request]
[Miss You] - M Tentacled sea god x AFAB reader, NSFW (tentacles, non-human genitalia, masturbation)
[Summer Storm] - M Tentacled sea god x AFAB reader, NSFW (tentacles, non-human genitalia, face fucking, light somnophilia) Prequel to 'Miss You'.
[Deep] - M Tentacled sea god x AFAB reader, NSFW (tentacle sex, knotting, spanking, dirty talk, possessiveness, praise kink, infidelity)
[Working on It] - F WereHyena x AFAB Reader, NSFW (light dom/sub dynamics, oral sex, pseudopenis)
[Tourist Trap] - M Ghost x Curvy Fem Reader, NSFW (dubious consent, stealth exhibitionism, semi-public sex, dirty talk). [Request]
[Home] - M Frankenstein's Monster/Creature x Fem Reader, NSFW (Penetrative Sex, masturbation). [Request]
[Wait] - M Frankenstein's Monster/Creature x Fem Reader, NSFW (oral sex, thigh fucking, edging, light somno). [Request]
[Satyr Gangbang] M Satyrs x AFAB Reader, NSFW - (overstim, intox kink, oral sex, thigh sex, creampie).
[Free Use Slut for Multiple Monsters] Werewolf x AFAB reader, F Tentancle Monster x AFAB Reader, M Dragon x AFAB Reader (oral sex, tentacles, free use).
You can also find my original posts under the 'monstersighing' tag here (this includes shorter imagines).
I'm on AO3 here as monstersighing.
REQUESTS CURRENTLY CLOSED. I'm open to monster requests (SFW and NSFW) but there's some things I won't be writing. This is an incomplete list: incest, rape/non-con, paedophilia, pregnancy, lactation, scat, omorashi/golden showers, feederism, race play, age play (inc DDLG).
I love tentacles, ghosts, sharp teeth, satyrs, religious kink, deities, demons and spanking.
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konigbabe · 9 months
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the fruits (of my labor)
DAY 4 ⇢ Power Dynamic Pairing: deity!Satoru Gojo x fem!acolyte!reader Word count: 2.5k Tags/warnings: no y/n; smut; deity/acolyte dynamic; deepthroat; throatfucking; riding Gojo’s knee; p-in-v; orgasm denial; creampie; dacryphilia; japanese terminology and mythology; religious imaginery; allusions to manipulation and toxicity; inaccurate historical descriptions Summary: He's a deity, yet he's faithless. The only belief he invests in is between your thighs. Satoru Gojo enjoys the fruits of your labor that you've offering him of late. [Part of NSFW Gojo Week 2023.]
event masterlist • masterlist • navigation • faq • AO3 • ko-fi
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You look upon him, his tranquil eyes already on you as he lies on his back; the corner of his lip turned upwards. Legs spread for your naked body to nestle between, your own bloody and bruised knees digging into the soft, plush yaedatami; offering a momentary relief from the pain. Lips bruised and swollen from the stretch, trying to accommodate his girth. Almost cracking at the corners.
If you were told to describe him, only one word springs to mind – Kami.
Divine.
His gestures – possessing an elegance that rivals the dance of willow branches in a gentle breeze. His voice; a melodious biwa ballad. The way blue hues of his eyes resemble the heavens melting into the boundless sea and the moon's reflection on tranquil waters, a sight that both soothes and enchants –
Satoru Gojo was considered an enigmatic legend in your eyes; among the people from your village. A young boy of mysterious lineage, his parentage shrouded in uncertainty. Some deemed him a yōkai, an unsettling otherworldly presence, while others gravitated towards yūrei, a spectral spirit.
He stands tall and slender, a figure exuding undeniable firmness in every line of his body. Hair the shade of soft grey; it reminds you of the moonlight filtering through the forest's canopy near your mother's okiya house, a teahouse adjacent to the gate of your village. Soft and fluffy; as the memory itself. His locks beckoned, inviting you to run your fingers through them, much like those stolen moments when he allowed you to do so – aware of limb-loosing consequences if any other maiden caught wind of your affiliation with Gojo.
Eyes mostly hidden underneath a woven silken cloth. Only allowed to see the day's sun when all others have been blinded; only a selected few made aware of Gojo's countenance.
("It's in the interest of my own well-being," he mumbles against the tender curve of your neck. Teeth grazing the marks there.
His cloth mask's fastened over the bridge of your nose, denying you eyesight. Hands sliding beneath the scarlet hakama, altered into a flowing skirt, enabling him to grasp your bare thighs with a grip so tight it threatens to leave lingering imprints. He's wrenching his pelvis up, engorged cock sliding against the sensitive walls of your drenched core as he moves you up and down his lap.
Robe shamelessly untied and disheveled but still hanging from his shoulders; with your arms clinging to the garment for dear life, a lifeline that anchors you as he delves so deeply that it elicits a desperate mewl from your lips, pushing aside any lingering questions.
"I cannot allow commoners to pose threats to my safety. After all, I am but a Kami." His hand raises one of yours, placing your palm flat against his. In that instant, you feel it—the non-existent space between your palms expanding, pushing your hand away from his. An invisible barrier materializing and separating your limb from his. It makes your fingers tingle.
"Who would–umph–desire to hurt you, my honored one."
A forceful push surges from behind you — or at least it feels that way — propelling your body towards Gojo's body. Lips colliding with his, all tenderness vanishing from his actions. His strong arm encircles your waist, lifting you up and creating the sensation of flying through the air. In one fluid motion, he turns you both around, deepening the kiss when his tongue plunges between your gasping lips.
"No one would dare, angel.")
– His taste. Briny yet the pearlescent droplets of his prespend sweet. With your cheeks hollowed, nails digging into the meat of his thighs, you savor the saline tang of him on your tongue. Tears teetering on the edge of your waterline, threatening to spill down your cheeks; eyelashes fluttering as he thrusts his hips upwards. Hand on the crown of your head pushing down simultaneously.
The swollen tip of his leaking cock plunges into your throat, scratching the sensitive back of it, and causing an involuntary gag reflex, throat instinctively closing.
"Just like that," Gojo groans in response to the sensation of your tight throat suffocating his cock, his arm positioned behind his head while the other moves to cup your cheek. His thumb tenderly wipes away a tear tracing a path down your face.
You look upon him, his tranquil eyes already on you as he lies on his back; the corner of his lip turned upwards. Legs spread for your naked body to nestle between, your own bloody and bruised knees digging into the soft, plush yaedatami; offering a momentary relief from the pain. Lips bruised and swollen from the stretch, trying to accommodate his girth. Almost cracking at the corners.
Leaving only his tip inside, you suck; draw him in, the tip of your tongue swirling over his slit as you let all the saliva gathered in your mouth coat his head, letting it dribble from the corners of your mouth onto his cock. Using your hand to spread the slick, covering his entire length in the mixture with your tongue concentrating on the spongy spot under his tip, slowly moving down until your lips meet your fingers wrapped around his hilt.
With bated breath, you ease your throat open wider, feeling the mushy head breach the gateway to your trachea; the friction growing more intense as he pushes past your tonsil area. Swallowing carefully, you take him in until his pelvis presses flush against your nose. You add a low hum to the mix, your fingernails lightly grazing the taut muscles of his abdomen, feeling it tighten as he twitches inside you. Something swells in your chest, expands and tightens over the feeling. Pride? More like a fervent devotion that borders on reverence.
"You little akuma–" he lets out a breath, fingers tracing the bulging curve of your throat before you pop him out with a wet sound. You repeat after – take him fully down your throat, keep him there and humming; vibrations shooting up his every nerve ending.
And the sounds he makes – the groan he lets out is drawn-out and echoing. You kiss his cock one more time before nipping at his sensitive area just below his abdomen, muscles hardened and shaped into a v. A place stained by the nips of your teeth, nicks of your nails; a teasing breeze caressing the shoreline.
Face moving upwards, your lips ache to meld with his. Yet as his breath mingles with yours, his fingers snake around your throat, tightening their grip.
Gojo holds your face intimately close to his that you can discern the white sparkles seemingly dancing within his eyes.
So close that you can distinguish myriad shades of blue within his iris, reminiscent of the Pleiades, or the very hue of the sky on a day when wisteria blooms swell.
"What are you doing," his head tilts to the side, lips tracing the corner of your lip until moving to your jaw. Soft gentle nibbles in contrast with the tight grip on your throat as you remain on all fours above his body that's still adorned in his night robe but completely untied.
A light breath escapes your yearning lips, eyes searching his face for any imperfections, any blemish in his otherwise divine visage – but finding none. Heart pounding in rhythm with the intensity of the moment, you believe that he's capable of hearing the beats. Thump, thump.
"Akami," you mumble, eyes falling to his lips when the tip of his tongue peaks out to slide over them, "kiss."
You remain motionless, almost paralyzed by the heated tension in the air, afraid to make a move or even swallow. Your cunt drenched, folds glistening with need to be filled. It pulsates, thumping steadily as if your heart dropped between your legs.
Gojo's eyes, once filled with desire, now appear almost bored, as if he's testing your resolve.
"Do you believe you are deserving of a kiss from Akami?"
Your head sways from side to side instinctively before you even fully process his question. Thighs failing to press together to relieve some of the tension as his wide frame blocks your attempts.
"I would not pose such queries without belief in their pertinence, correct?"
You nod. His face contours, creases between his brows. Bending one leg, he brings his knee to your cunt. Pressing onto the pulsating nerve on top, making you mewl and moan from finally getting some release. Your hips shamelessly grind onto his offering knee, painting it in your juices.
"Speak," he corrects you, putting his knee higher — forcing your calves to strain in order to remain on the soft cushion.
"You are—mmph—," Gojo's eyes flick down to see the way your pussy parts for his knee, circling it and disturbing your chain of thoughts, "—you are correct, Go—gojo."
"Good," his thumb presses against your lower lip, forcing your mouth to part more before he pushes the digit flat against your tongue, "then undertake a deserving act."
Satoru Gojo refuses to allow your lips contact with his. Even after what feels like hours – when he's already painted your body in his pearlescent spent, now slickening your gummy walls and sticking to his cock like honey – he's continuing to pound into you with relentless strength.
And yet he still doesn't let you reach the sweet high. Unable to tumble into the abyss of ecstasy. Your body his canvas, on which he paints strokes of desire – a merciless dance on the edge of rapture; where you can feel the waves building and receding like a capricious ocean tide.
("Patience, my angel. You're too pure to be stained. My forsaken tenshi.")
Robe finally discarded, he has you positioned to bend over the side of the yaedatami; high enough for your back to arch forcibly. The stretch across your abdomen feels like a taut bowstring. Ass up, held aloft and elbows pressed against the floor. Your hands grope desperately for purchase – yet finding nothing in this empty sleeping chamber – as Gojo looms over you, one arm bracing his weight beside your head, the other cradling your cheek as he spreads you wide for his cock to plunge insanely deep into your leaking cunt.
His thrusts are relentless, each one driving his cock impossibly deep. So deep it makes you feel as if the tip of his cock grazes your cervix, a blunt pressure inside building with each pivot of his hips. It builds steadily inside you, like a dam about to burst. And the loudness of your moans only assures the man in your body's response to him – his body, his heat. His cock. All of him.
"Just like that–," Gojo's voice's raspy, throat strained from the sounds of pleasure he's given you, "stay down—ugh–"
His words cause your back to arch more; prideful in his praise. The pleasure profound, toe-curling and spiraling through your body.
"Gojoo–," you try to meet the aggressive roll of his hips, even if the position doesn't let you move too much, "please–'m so close–please…"
You're begging, whining for him to never stop. To – for once – listen to his acolyte's pleas for release. And just as he senses your cunt quivering, throbbing with the impending orgasm, he draws a sharp thrust. Body heavy against your bottom, bottoming out before pulling out.
His response is a single word, "No" escaping his lips. Sitting back on his legs, his eyes lock onto the sight of your cunt – spread open, his own cum trickling from the fluttering, empty hole, glistening as it strains your inner thighs; pussy puffy and swollen from overstimulation. Chest puffing out, he basks in the tableau before him.
"I shall have a painter immortalize such image," he muses, leaning closer. Fingers tracing the curve of your calves, gliding over the skin of your thighs, bathing in the slickness of your inner thighs. He swipes the blend of his cum and juices from your cunt, collects them on his fingers.
In a commanding gesture, he raises you up, positioning you to sit atop your legs, mirroring his own stance. His wet fingers dance along your parted lips as you grow more desperate.
"Please–," you beg more, licking the saline sweetness off your lips, throat parched, "please–."
Gojo doesn't respond – not immediately. Instead, he turns you to face him with your back. Pulling your body onto his sitting lap and thrusting his cock into your abused cunt without any resistance. Your body strains as your back arches, head falling back to rest against his neck as his hands grasp both of your biceps, securing you to his chest as he thrusts upwards.
"You reach your release only when I deem it," his lips trace your neck, biting the sensitive flesh as he moves you up and down his lap. You can feel his cock scratching that insatiable itch deep inside you, each punishing thrust pushing you closer to the edge. The emptiness that follows only stokes the fervor building within you, a desire that only HE can satiate.
And does he take his time…
Legs pushed against your chest, his body weighs down on you – folded almost in half. Tears of exhaustion and bliss course down your cheeks, his name on your lips. Moaning, gasping, arching your back as you lose yourself to the euphoria that builds inside. His cock pushes against your clenched walls, swelling and so close to releasing and coating your walls with his sore.
But Gojo holds tight to his resolution; muscles taut under your trembling body; your fragile body. You're his to do with as he pleases, after all.
"Ahh–close, Gojo–please," you plead, feeling his cock plunge into your core, and the stretch of your cunt swallowing him to the root, "I want to–ugh–I can't–"
He cuts you off with a rather painful thrust, the head of his cock bruising your cervix, it seems. Making you gasp at the suddenness and pain. It's afterward that he slows down, rapid thrusts becoming languid rolls of his hips. He moans, gruff and low in his throat as he pushes himself deeper inside of you with each movement.
"You cannot what?" His eyes gleam even as he gives you a momentary reprieve. The thrumming pleasure from being so completely filled subsides, but not entirely leaving altogether – just enough to remind you that Gojo's presence is still there.
"I can't–," you whimper in his ear as he moves onto his elbows, straining your hamstrings until you feel as if he's gonna tear your legs apart, "I can't…"
"You cannot what?" Gojo demands, his cock stilling inside you, only to resume as he leans you forward, "tell me, my faithful one."
"No more–please," your lips search for his; to which his head fives to your clavicles, nibbling the tender and sensitive skin there, "I need the release, please," you beg with a strained voice.
His eyes flutter shut, teeth catching hold on your shoulder, harder than they should, "beg one more time. Let me hear your prayers."
He's waiting for a particular syllable and sounds; the first syllable of his name. For it to flow out of your lips.
"Please–," your voice becomes but a mere exhale, body spent; falling to his mercy. Shaking as you beg for this man to take whatever he wants. The only reason you're even able to speak is to plead for release, having nothing else to offer but yourself freely to him. A twisted, filth-covered shinsen.
In the end, Gojo eventually does take your offering, grants you your release.
Being that way for several moons.
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dexlexia · 10 months
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head rush (ver. 1) - sanji x reader
pairing: sanji vinsmoke x reader rating: 18+ summary: When you got with Sanji after months at sea you wondered if his obsession with women was to cover up the fact that he wasn't particularly good in bed. If he wasn't that wouldn't make you stop loving him. But you often wondered. tags: pwp, smut, virgin!sanji, oral sex, sixty-nine
complimentary fics: zoro, law, ace, smoker
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When you got with Sanji after months at sea you wondered if his obsession with women was to cover up the fact that he wasn't particularly good in bed. If he wasn't that wouldn't make you stop loving him. But you often wondered.
 “You've never had sex?” You asked as you sat on the inn bed with your legs crossed. You watched Sanji look away and scratch the back of his neck.
He exhaled smoke before he took the cigarette out of his mouth and put it out at the night stand. He crossed his legs too and rested his elbows on his thighs. “Well, yeah.” He swallowed, “I've never had sex.”
You raised an eyebrow, “Mr. Womanizer has never had sex, huh?”
He looked away and out the window beside the bed, “You don't need to rub it in. Prior to the Straw Hats it wasn't like I had much time to sleep with someone. Plus like the Thousand Sunny, the Baratie isn't known to have much privacy. I'm pretty sure if I had a girl in my room, the old man would come in and beat me with a pan.” He looked back to you, “Then Luffy happened and I had even less time to sleep with someone. So, no, I've never had sex.” 
You giggled and leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his lips, “I don't mind.” You grazed a hand down his chest then grabbed him by the tie to pull him into a rougher kiss.
Sanji moaned into the kiss and grabbed the back of your head. The blond was a professional at kissing, he even joked he was good with his tongue as well. But that was something you had to test. 
When you pulled away, you kept a hand on his tie before you smiled at him, “I guess I have a lot to teach you. There's many ways to pleasure a woman.” You giggled once more, feeling flustered as well, “And since we have a few days off the ship, I guess we should get started.” 
He looked at you dumb-struck, he couldn't believe this was happening. He knew that eventually you two would have sex, but sleeping in dorms and with Sanji asleep in a hammock, it didn't provide optimal times to do the act. 
But you were right, a few days off the ship and in a shared room allowed you to teach him a thing or two about sex. The thought excited him which led him to pulling you back into another heated kiss. 
  ”How does that sound, blondey?“ You smirked close to his lips before you went in for another kiss. You changed your position so you could get closer to him. Soon your hands went for his tie, you yanked it loose and threw it to the floor. 
  ”Oh, please.“ He moaned as he got his suit jacket off. Soon after you both collapsed into bed together, Sanji's hands tried to reach for the back of your dress but you beat him to it. 
You kicked off the garment and worked on getting Sanji undressed. You groaned out of frustration into the kiss, why did he have to wear so many damn layers? 
His eyes lingered to your breasts and his cheeks grew red. He had seen you nude a few times by accident, but never this close. He swallowed before his eyes met with you once more, ”Wow.“
You chuckled, ”You're too funny, Sanji. Now stop staring at my breasts and get these damn clothes off. I want to see my partner.“ You undid the buttons of his dress shirt and soon it was on the floor. 
He undid your bra and pulled down your panties to your knees, which you then got off and onto the floor. You kissed once more as he hastily got his belt off and tried to get his pants off while he was locked in such a hot kiss. 
He thanked every deity out there that you two were sharing a room together. 
You gave him room to get his pants and briefs off before he was left completely nude. His chest was rising and falling as his heart hammered in his chest. This was beyond belief. 
  ”Since we don't have any condoms, we can't go full on just yet. But I have something else in mind.“ You winked. Now that you were both nude, you got on top of him with your face in front of his cock, ”I want to see how much you know.“ 
You started to suck his cock and he moaned loudly. It was so loud that it sounded like a whine. He grabbed your ass and started to lick at your pussy. He was hesitant at first as this was the first time he had ever done something like that. 
But soon he took quite well to it. He mostly focused on your clit, the sensation made your toes curl near his head. You held onto the bed under you for support as you deep-throated him. It took a moment before you were able to relax your throat enough to take all of him. 
He was rather impressive in size, if it currently wasn't down your throat you would've asked him how he was able to carry it around all day. You were mindful of your teeth and continued to move your mouth and tongue up and down his cock. 
His noises were muffled by the fact that your pussy was in his face. He could feel your wetness covering down to his chin. He soaked his facial hair as he continued to lick. He dug his hands into the meat of your ass as he felt pleasure course through his body. You were good at this. 
Perhaps too good because soon Sanji was taken off guard and came down your throat. His noises were whiny as he finished. You were almost flattered that he came so fast, you understood why he did. It was the first time he had ever gotten a blow job.
  ”Fuck.“ He groaned with your pussy covering his mouth. 
He couldn't believe the pleasure, it was nothing like masturbation. The orgasm was so intense that his mind went blank for a moment. When he came back, he realized he wasn't licking at your clit anymore. 
He started once more but soon you got off of him and sat to the edge of the bed. Your chest was sharply rising and falling and he watched you lick at the corner of your mouth to remove leftover cum that dripped out of your mouth. 
  ”Wow.“ He said still out of breath. 
  ”Now c'mere, Sanji. Get in front of me and I'll show you how to really pleasure a woman orally.“ You smiled to yourself as you watched him kick his legs up as he got off the bed. Soon he was in between your legs with a blush on his face.
His pupils seemed bigger out of lust as he stared up at you. You took him by the head and brought him once more between your legs. He held onto your thighs to keep them open for him. 
  ”You're too sloppy, Black Leg.“ You smiled as you gripped his blond locks as he started to lap at your swollen clit, “You need a rhythm, a steady pace will make me cum.” 
He got a little too excited and grabbed you by your bottom and lifted your bottom half up to get his mouth more on your sweet cunt. He caused you to drop your back onto the bed as he tried to get the best angle to pleasure you. 
  “”Shit.“ You moaned, ”Ah, Ah, Sanji. Oh, oh!“ You gasped as you gripped the bed under you as he just went to town on you. There was little resistance you were putting up, at this angle he had better control of orally pleasuring you. 
  ”That feels good.“ He groaned as he hooked your legs over his shoulders and let you squeeze his head. Giving you pleasure aroused him greatly as he felt his cock twitch as he devoured you.
You were like nothing else he had ever had before. You were the finest, more delectable fruit he could ever gorge himself on. He groaned and continued to eat you like a fine dinner.  He gazed at you from between your legs and you could feel the smirk that had formed on his lips. 
  ”Sanji.“
  ”I like how you say my name.“ He said and kissed your inner thigh before he went back to licking at you with long broad strokes that were building up to an orgasm. There was nothing else quite like it. The feeling was addictive, he could only imagine what having penetrative sex with you would be like.
You did have a lot to teach him after all. 
You were left a moaning mess as he continued. Your noises were like a symphony to his ears. He wanted to hear you making those noises for the rest of his life. He loved you, he showed it every day. He couldn't get enough out of you. 
  ”Oh, fuck, That's it.“ You moaned as you gripped the soft blue covers of the bed under your back. Your back arched off of the bed and he smirked between your thighs. You looked amazing as this moaning mess. You were supposed to be his teacher but it felt like he was passing with flying colors.
Your eyes squeezed shut for a moment when he grazed your clit with his front teeth. You yelped, ”Yes, yes, like that. You found it, oh fuck Sanji!“
He was starting to feel more confident pleasuring you orally. He mixed his teeth in with the licks to your clit. He switched it up but kept it the same pace. Each time his front teeth grazed your clit, your body jumped from the pleasure. Which in turn made him want to do it even more.
  ”Perfect.' He said, his cock bobbed and brushed against the bed as he held you up to get the perfect angle to pleasure you with his mouth. He was encouraged by your moans that seemed to grow ever louder as you approached orgasm.
He was very pleased with himself for doing so well the first time. Maybe he did have some hidden talent to give oral sex.The thought made him chuckle to himself as he gazed at you. His keen eyes kept a good look on your reactions to his pleasure. If he knew he could do this to you, he would've requested time off the ship earlier. 
He gripped your ass and closed his eyes to get into the motions as he could guess that you were soon going to climax. He was going to make sure that his beloved, beautiful girlfriend was going to get the best orgasm of her life. 
  “You're addicting, Sanji.” You moaned as you watched his mouth work on your pussy. You felt hot all over as you knew soon you'd be climaxing on his mouth. He looked in his element between your legs. For a moment you were second guessing if he was lying about being a virgin. Or maybe he was just being responsive to your noises. 
He was a very good student. 
You whined as he touched your clit with his tongue. You had to remind yourself next time to tell him about using his fingers and mouth. If he was this good with mouth alone you could only imagine what adding those long fingers would do.
  “Sanji.”
  “That's it.” He replied, his face was still flushed and his cock was at full attention. He could see the rise and fall of your chest as you panted. You were feeling good. 
Soon like a strike of lightning, pleasure came over you and you squeezed your thighs around his head and climaxed with a sharp gasp. You gripped the covers as the euphoria hit you like a ton of bricks.
Then you dropped onto the bed in a limp heat. Your brain felt blank for a moment as you felt the aftershocks of pleasure. You eventually groaned, “Holy shit.” 
Sanji grinned, his chin rested on top of your pussy. His mouth was red and slick but he looked pleased with himself, “How was that?” He seemed so proud. 
  “Amazing.“ You panted, "Are you sure-”
  “Never, only you.” He put your legs back down to the floor and they wobbled as you tried to sit up. He wiped his mouth on his arm and he sat beside you on the bed, “Relax.” He kissed the side of your head, “Take it easy.”
You swallowed, “Okay.“ and then fully got onto the bed and laid there on top of the covers to relax. Your mind was a buzz. 
  ”I can't wait for you to teach me more.” He smiled, “Do you think we can go for another lesson before the others wonder where we've been?“
You looked at him and reached out for him, ”How soon can we sneak out of here to get condoms.“ Then pulled him in for a searing kiss. 
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scribiel · 3 months
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thank you is also a form of saying i love you
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Jujutsu Kaisen! Suguru Geto x fem! reader tags: Suguru Geto x fem! reader, fluff, established relationship, mentions of insecurities (suguru's feeling a little insecure), written in first person (reader's) point of view
Suguru, when you told me, “I have flaws, it’s weird you know … to know that you are okay with that.” 
I stopped folding my laundry and took a look at you. “We are human, Suguru. There’s no way we can be an all rounder, no sharp edges kind of thing, Suguru.”
You laughed; I heard the bitterness in the air. “I know, Love. But you understand that sometimes, even if it’s not possible, we want to be perfect for our loved ones?”
I nodded. “I understand, Suguru”—I looked up at the ceiling—”I remember you really loved the mirrorball at our senior prom.”
You answered, “I do recall.”
I shifted my gaze at you. “You said it was so beautiful.”
“I did. Indeed.”
“Mirrorball is a sphere-like object. It’s almost a round thing, but almost. It’s not smooth; it has sharp edges, but it’s beautiful. Whatever it reflects, it’s beautiful. It may not be a perfect thing, but to its surroundings, it’s beautiful.”
You stopped for a while, eyes widened a little, and then a chuckle slipped out and heard in the air. “You remember I love mirrorball. That’s so very sweet.”
And then, there was a wave of delightness washed over me. You smiled as you added, “I only love the mirrorball and thought it was pretty because I saw you in that dress, under the flashy light of mirrorball. You were looking for me. It was beautiful. You are beautiful.”
Suddenly, I felt like the air had escaped my lungs, I choked on my own saliva. Funny. But it caught me off guard. Oh Suguru, now you must know that. I can associate you with many beautiful things to ever exist on earth, but none of them can actually represent and match the beauty you bear; soul, physical, and mind. 
Maybe because beauty is in the eye of the beholder, but let me tell you something: that you are pretty like sunset. Not the bright sunset, but the soft orange that comes along with gray clouds. And I am only the surface of the sea; for what all I am, is only able to reflect the magnificent view of yours. 
You and loving you feel so phenomenal. 
Like the rain on a summer day; raindrops under the beaming golden sun. It’s captivating. And when with you, I never not want to dance in the rain. Spinning in my best dress. And later, the golden sunray is scattered from the raindrops, and then comes many colors. Rainbow. Sometimes more; it’s so colorful, that whenever I shift my gaze, the colors are there. All of them at once. Iridescent. 
Like seeing roses bloom upon the cold white snow. It’s so distinct that no one on earth can question what lies before their eyes. No one on earth will question the love I have for you. 
You were born in February, you are the beginning to the ending of the cold, harsh, and ruthless winter. You bring spring into my life. Melting my frozen heart. You are the beginning of spring. Then, as the ice melts,  you can hear the river flowing; you can walk with a light coat with flowers and greens before your eyes; you can feel something so close to home, and then all you know is you are home. 
Although I have put you on a pedestal, you put me on something higher, perhaps you put a present on my altar, perhaps you think of me as something so deity when you say, “But you are more beautiful. No, let me correct that”—you make your way to me, putting your arms around my body; making me feel so many things, but the only thing that comes up in my head is home, because I am home, somewhere safe and sound—”you are the most beautiful thing. And I could never thank you enough. So, Love, thank you.”
I kiss your cheek gently, then whisper into your ear, “I love you too.”
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happyhauntt · 6 months
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BURIAL GROUND, a hunger games fic.
─── summary:  In District Four, they teach you  how to survive the Games. They don’t teach you how to survive what comes after. ─── warnings: this story contains triggering themes including sexual assault & rape, prostitution, self-harm and thoughts of suicide, death and canon-typical violence. these themes, along with others, are prevalent in the hunger games universe and will come up in this story, so please don’t read if these things affect you! ─── fic tag. read on ao3. fic masterlist.
CHAPTER ONE ─── the uglier truth (3.8k words.)
     YOU WOULD THINK, by the way people in the Capitol talk about Nimah Caplan, that she was some kind of deity. That she wasn't born human, but instead rose from the sea foam crashing onto the shores of District 4 one day, skin glowing like the inside of a buttercup and eyes greener than the freshest grass.
     The Capitol likes to forget the uglier truth  ━  that she was never some goddess that appeared out of the blue one day, some beautiful woman to be at the center of President Snow's glistening parties.
     Nim hates to disappoint, but her life certainly didn't start out that way. She was a child, once, a long time ago. They drag it up every year, her adolescence reduced to nothing but a newsreel; it hurts to look at the films and see how young she used to be, still soft with innocence. She grew up a feral child, practically born with a knife in her hand, and yet still, before the Hunger Games, she'd been... something else.
     On mornings like this, though, she wishes she were born of the sea. Dragging herself out of bed, the silken sheets still tangled around her legs, she stumbles into the bathroom across the hall. She runs the tap and holds her hands beneath the freezing water for a moment before splashing it onto her face, hoping the chill will wake her up faster.
     Nim is fairly certain that goddesses don't get hangovers.
     She groans, drying her face off with a towel. A mirror hangs above the sink, large and oval with a silver-painted frame. The sheet she threw over it years ago, in an effort to ensure she never saw her own reflection again, is loose at the edge. For just a moment, she catches a flash of blue-streaked curls, desperately in need of brushing.
     She holds her breath and tugs the sheet back into place.
     The clock says it's late. Later than she should be waking up, anyway, on market day. She learned a long time ago that alarm clocks weren't the best way of rousing her from a dead sleep, and Nim had destroyed more than enough of them in a panicked haze to prove it.
     Heading back into her bedroom, she tugs on the nearest pair of black slacks she can find and grabs her tan wool-lined jacket from where it is draped over the foot of the bed. The empty bottle sitting on her bedside table glares at her until she grabs that, too, taking it downstairs with her and tossing it into the trash.
     Her boots, slippery black leather, slide on too easily over her narrow shins. At the door, she pauses. The nausea comes quickly, an unpleasant burn lingering at the back of her throat, and Nim presses her forehead against the glass until it passes.
     It isn't always so bad.
     Most of the time, these days, she doesn't need to drink. At night, she can take her sleeping pills and drift off to a dreamless netherworld where little can trouble her, and the nightmares cannot fight their way into her subconscious to tear her brain apart. Nim is happy to survive in this way, half-rested, as long as the terrors stay safely trapped in the lining of her bones where they belong.
     There are the bad days, though. Less now than there were a few years ago, when the Games were still fresh and the trauma was new, but they still happen. Those days, she cannot sleep without a bottle in her hand and enough alcohol in her system to tranquilize an elephant.
     Those days only come when she knows the inevitable is coming. A fast train to the Capitol, a few nights clinking glasses with society's elite, a shining example of what a young woman should be, with the right stylists, escorts, manners  ━  and a particularly memorable stint in the Hunger Games under her belt.
     The thought of brushing shoulders with Capitol folk again always makes her want to crawl inside a bottle. The thought of what happens when the lights go down and the party is over makes her want to never come back out.
     She swallows the bile back down and breathes deeply until her headache subsides a little, but the static on her skin never goes away. The hangover is only half of what makes her so sick; leaving her house in Victor's Village always feels like treading through a minefield. The wide open spaces, the eyes peering at her, judging her, reducing her to nothing but a tiny grain of sand...
     Nimah can be confident. She can fake it with the best of them, hold her head high in the Capitol and wear her dazzling smile and bat her eyelashes, because when the cameras are out there is nothing else she can do. This was the part assigned to her when she won the Games, and it is the role she'll play for the rest of her life.
     In her home district, though, Nim just wants to be invisible. Every pair of eyes on her feels like a dagger in her back. The navy streaks in her hair and the inhuman green of her eyes mark her out as a creature of the Capitol, now. An outsider.
     Steeling herself, she wrenches open the front door and steps out into the street. 
     Nim used to think that Victor's Village was pretty. As a child, she'd stand at the gates and press her face between the bars, looking at the long row of a dozen white marble mansions, six on either side, dreaming of the day she'd get to live in one.
     Now, as she treks down the path, gravel crunching beneath her feet, the mansions aren't so pretty anymore. They line up like pale tombstones on either side of her, empty windows leering into the street. At the very end of the road, six of the houses sit dark, with no one inside to make them into homes. Every other mansion in the village bares the flaws that Nim was blind to as a child; the cracks in the paint, the wrinkles in the skin of a Victor, the proof that the Games are not all they are made out to be.
     Mags' home is nearest to the gates. Orange chrysanthemums blossom in the window boxes  ━  gardening was the talent Mags chose when she won her Games around sixty years ago  ━  but her gnarled hands haven't touched the soil in years. These days, the caretakers are the ones keeping the village looking perfect.
     Annie Cresta's house sits across from it. There are little stars and hearts carved into the front door, from when the pair of them sat on the doorstep one day a few summers ago, intent on letting the world slip by for once. They'd been able to hear the voices from the square, where the rest of the district had gathered to watch that year's Victor on their victory tour. They were both supposed to go, but Annie's breakdown prevented her, and Nimah volunteered to stay behind and sit with her friend.
     She'd stolen knives from the kitchen and they'd sat in silence, gritting their teeth, carving happy symbols into the wood, forcing their anger out in a way that was more productive than smashing things. The caretakers painted over them, but when Nim goes to visit her friend, she runs her fingers over the marks left behind by their knives. It reminds her of a solitary, pleasant memory in the midst of so much bad.
     Next to Mags' house is Cowell. Winner of a Games that had long-since past, the windows of his mansion were broken years ago in a fit of rage, and boarded up with wood. Sometimes Nim can see the light from inside peeking through the gaps in the boards, but she doesn't see Cowell often. She doesn't mind. There is a haunted look lingering in his eyes, the kind she knows is mirrored in her own, and she hates to be reminded of her failures.
     Hobbs lives next door to Annie. Almost as old as Mags, his door is always open for anyone who needs to talk. When Nim first returned from the Capitol after winning her Games, it was Hobbs she ran to when she could no longer stand the quiet in her own house.
     Finnick and Nimah live opposite one another. She has been inside Finnick's home enough times to know that he keeps it immaculately tidy, as if cleaning up a physical mess is his way of sorting through the trauma he keeps buried. He always needs to keep his hands busy.
     Nimah sleeps with every light on in her house. Before she goes to bed, she treks through all the rooms and closes all the curtains, only to turn on the light before she leaves. If she wakes up in a darkened room, terror clogs her throat until she can't breathe. Her screaming wakes up the whole street. Even now, at midday, if she looks back over her shoulder she'll find her bedroom window glowing with golden light. It's how she finds her way home.
     When she reaches the gates, Nim pauses. Just beyond, down a long pathway, she can hear the bustle of the docks. From her window she can see the beach, the sea rising up in raucous grey waves to crash against the sand, and all the fishing boats bobbing in the water.
     Her old house, a brown shack with only a few rooms and a leaking roof, isn't near the beach. It sits in a long row of other shacks, all different shapes and sizes, in the shadow of the huge fisheries. Her parents used to work on the conveyor line, sorting the fish. Nim grew up in a house where the scent of rotting fish permeated everything, and she shared a room with her brother, and her grandparents lived in the room next door. There were six of them in that house. Her family wasn't poor, they earned better wages than many in the district and Nim and her brother never had to take tesserae, but every spare bit of her parents' money was spent sending their children to the combat academies.
     They didn't want the Hunger Games to take their children away.
     At least not without a fight.
     "Nim!"
     The crunching of gravel creeps up on her, and she turns weary eyes upon her new companion, offering him a small smile. "Finnick. I thought you had left for the Capitol already."
     His throat bobs as he comes to a stop beside her, holding the gate open so she can go through ahead of him. "Tomorrow." The smile he offers her in return is dazzling, white teeth gleaming like a shark's. "I've got business to attend to before the party next week. Are you going?"
     His voice dips, and for a moment it vanishes in the cool wind blowing in off the sea. Nim can't help it; she shivers. The party in question is the Victor's Ball, held at the Presidential Palace for this year's newest winners, Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark. Former Victors have always been invited, but most of them don't bother to go; Annie hasn't been to the Capitol for years, not even as a Mentor, and Cowell never passes the threshold of his front door these days.
     For Finnick and Nim, though, their attendance is not optional.
     Nim grimaces at his question, knowing he is only asking to be polite. "I'm putting it off until the day before. I've no desire to be in the Capitol any longer than required."
     Part of her likes it. The mindless gossip, the glitter and the gold, all the strange people and the way it distracts her for an hour or two. Her prep team dolls her up, and Nim has always shone as the center of attention, able to command a room with little effort.
     The days after, though, she has to bury herself beneath the covers and cry. To be so outgoing comes at a cost. To allow strangers to touch her, to rub shoulders with them and laugh with them, takes all of her energy. At one of her first parties after winning, someone grabbed her wrist when she wasn't looking, and she nearly clawed their eyes out.
     Surviving them takes everything she has.
     Without another word, the pair of them start the slow trudge down the path towards the town square. Nim pulls her jacket tighter around her. In mid-winter, the weather in District 4 is mild. It never snows here, but on the coldest days, the wind coming from the sea nips and bites.
     Her earliest memories are of summers spent playing on the beach with her brother, digging her toes into the warm sand. Those days were few and far between  ━  the peacekeepers only opened the beach up to the public on holidays  ━  but Nim's fondest memories are of chasing her brother into the surf and jumping over the waves.
     Every one of those moments feels tinged with red, now. The salty tang in the air reminds Nim of blood on her tongue.
     "What do you need from the market? I'll get it for you." Nim already has a list for Annie and Mags tucked into her pocket. The old woman had tried to insist that she was perfectly able to buy her own bread, but Nim had refused to listen.
     Finnick shakes his head. "You look like you need the company." He looks at her, his eyes lingering on the plain silk eye patch and the dark circles beneath her uncovered eye, her unruly curls and the odd pallor of her skin.
     Nim turns away. "I don't..."
     She leaves her sentence unfinished and lowers her eyes, careful to ensure her steps are even, one boot in front of another. Part of Nim craves silence; where Finnick must always keep his hands busy, must always have something to do, Nim adores nothing more than the quiet rooms of her too-large house, legs crossed in the middle of the plush carpet, trying her best to breathe.
     The small, traitorous heart of her, though, needs the company. Not to be surrounded, but to just exist with someone else, in the little moments of peace. To breathe with them. To be reminded that, no matter the horrors she has endured, there is someone else in the world that bleeds the same way she does.
     That doesn't mean she appreciates it. Finnick Odair, the Capitol's golden boy, hovering over her shoulder like she's a fragile thing about to break. Him and Mags and Hobbs, all watching and waiting for her to snap again. Wondering if it will be worse than last time.
     The pair of them walk on in silence, until they reach the town square. On market days, the square in front of the Justice Building fills up with stalls selling all kinds of goods. Peacekeepers mill through the crowd, white-gloved hands ready with their guns. They used to chat with stallholders, gossip and buy their bread without much trouble, but since Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark came through last week on their victory tour, things have been different.
     There is a tension in the air that wasn't there before.
     The shouting batters her ears. Nim closes her eyes for a moment, struck by the sudden rise in volume. Without a word, Finnick presses closer; not close enough to touch her, but she can feel the warmth of his hand hovering over the small of her back, close enough to shield her from the noise.
     Releasing a slow breath through her nose, Nim heads over to the first of the long line of stalls. Drawing the crumpled list from her coat pocket, she passes it over to the stallholder, who sets to work putting a series of glass jars into a basket.
     Finnick leans over Nim's shoulder. "What is Mags cooking up that requires that many jars?"
     Nim shrugs. "Ask Mags."
     They move along the line of stalls. Nim keeps her head low, eyes intently focused on the movements of her hands  ━  passing the money across to each vendor, inspecting her purchases before carefully putting them into her basket. She can feel Finnick at her back, only a few inches taller but feeling infinitely more like a human shield the longer she spends in the midst of a crowd.
     She hates this. Every time someone she doesn't know accidentally brushes past, she flinches away. A vile feeling coils in the pit of her stomach like a viper waiting to strike; an urge to run coupled with the instinct to attack first, to drive a knife through someone's throat before they can get her.
     Her muscles tense. She keeps a tight grip on the basket, lime-green eye darting from stranger to stranger, her pupil narrowed to a tiny black pinprick. Everyone is an threat, even the people she recognises  ━  a girl she went to school with lingers by one of the many shellfish stalls, hardly paying attention to her surroundings, but when Nim blinks, she sees a flash of bare teeth lunging for her neck.
     To be that ignorant, she thinks, pushing the obtrusive thoughts away. It does not stop the horrible prickling of her skin, but she loosens her shoulders a bit. Even with the Peacekeepers wandering around, everyone in the marketplace seems so carefree in comparison to the thundering of her heart. None of them know what it is like to have blood on their hands; to feel the slick warmth of it as it runs up their wrist, to scrub and scrub until their skin is raw and still feel no closer to clean.
     The girl  ━  her name tugs at the edge of Nim's memory, but Nim hasn't thought of her old schoolmates in so long that it feels like that life belonged to someone else  ━  moves along. Nim tracks her movements like a predator until she has moved just out of view, and suddenly someone else, someone heartbreakingly familiar, crosses into her line of vision.
     She can feel Finnick looking at her, wondering why she froze like a deer caught in the sights of a hunter, but with one look at where she is staring, he understands.
     Her grandmother hasn't seen them yet.
     Distantly, as if she is underwater, Nim can hear the irritated mutters of people as they step around her and Finnick, annoyed that they've stopped in the middle of the path. Finnick wraps his hand around Nim's arm and gently tugs her out of the way. Almost automatically, she tears herself out of his grasp, shocked out of her haze.
     The old woman stops at one of the stalls further down, clutching the hand of a young child. Something stony and cold ripples through Nim as the little girl, no older than six, chatters happily away. Beneath the eye patch, the marbled scar over Nim's eye burns.
     "Have you talked to her recently?" Finnick's voice is soft in her ear, but Nim wants to reach up and rip his tongue out. Finnick, darling of the Capitol. Finnick, who, in the eyes of the world, seems never to have done anything wrong in his life  ━  except save her.
     Nim scoffs. "What do we have to talk about?"
     He grimaces, a poor attempt to hide his loathing of the old woman. He has never been so good at biting his tongue when it could get him into trouble with Nim, but these days, he knows better than to push her where her family is concerned.
     Her grandmother buys a loaf of bread and carries on walking, pulling the little girl along beside her. The child tosses her head back to giggle, a wave of brown curls cascading over her shoulders, before suddenly she looks back over her shoulder, beaming a bright smile at no-one in particular.
     "I'm not a masochist," Nim says through gritted teeth. Jaw clenched, she watches as her grandmother and the girl press on, eyes lingering on them until the crowd swallows them up and they vanish from sight.
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torukmaktoskxawng · 4 months
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Snippet of tsamsiyu ta'em chapter sixteen
Despite coming to many revelations, only to be riddled with just as many questions, Kayla still found time to be with Ronal and Tonowari, just the three of them. Even though every bone in her body told her to refuse and avoid their presence, she found that her feet were still walking in the direction that Tonowari had instructed her to meet them after their evening meal.
She tried to come up with excuses in her head as to why they wanted her to join them at night. Perhaps it was under the guise that all three of them had been extremely busy ever since Kayla and Spider returned, but that still didn't make her feel better, knowing that to want to spend time with her meant that they cared for her in some way shape, or form. And even though she logically didn't want that... she couldn't ignore certain other parts of her that were seemingly devoid of logic. Parts of her wanted to believe that they wanted her around for something besides gratitude, besides wanting to keep an eye on her or wanting her to do her part and not be useless to their village.
She finds them standing along the beach where they told her to meet them, their toes dipped into the bioluminescent sand, creating a rippling galaxy beneath their very feet. Kayla can't help but think of the Milky Way, a long line of clustered stars lining the island where the sand meets the ocean. Ronal and Tonowari stood at the center of the cluster of stars, immovable planets that demand others to revolve around them, and in a way, Kayla found herself doing just that, moving toward them like an unforeseen gravity pulling her in. 
Tonowari was watching her approach while Ronal was looking up at the sky, watching that familiar, beautiful gas giant with the large crater glaring down at them. Kayla was now standing close enough where she could count the tattoos on both of their faces, so she stopped, deciding that this would have to be close enough, a few feet away, just out of arm's reach. It was for the better.
Tonowari watched as Kayla peered up into the sky, watching the same gas giant as Ronal before the chief spoke up, "It is Naranawm. 'Great Eye.'"
Kayla hummed in understanding, "My people call it Polyphemus, named after a cyclops."
Both pairs of Metkayina eyes are now trained on her, Kayla's ears tucking close to her head out of embarrassment while she shyly explains herself, "It's uh... it's a mythological creature from my homeworld. The Cyclops is a man-eating giant with only one eye at the center of its face." 
"That is barbaric." Ronal simply states with a scrunched nose.
A breath of a laugh escapes Kayla, "And yet, you guys have man-eating creatures here that are considered the stuff of nightmares where I'm from. Polyphemus was one of the pretty popular in one or two stories. His father was the god of the sea-- or something like that."
"God of the sea?" Tonowari tilts his head with interest.
Kayla nods, deciding that it would be inappropriate to share how she imagined Poseidon to look like Tonowari if such a benevolent god existed, "Yeah. Um... depending on what part of Earth you lived on, your faith in certain deities varies. Polyphemus stems from Greek mythology and the Greeks believed in multiple gods, Poseidon being one of them. He was the god of the sea."
"What deity did your part of the world believe in?"
"One god, like Eywa..." Kayla shivered at distant memories of religious trauma, "Only the Great Mother tends to sound kinder."
~~~~~~~~~
A/n: Fucking hell, I might've lied when I said I was never going to write a 20k+ chapter again. Anyway, can't wait to finally post once it's all said and done!
Taglist (bold indicates "could not tag"): @motheroffae @undeniableadrenaline @mooniequeen @shit-i-say-shit-i-think @heart-an0n @amiets2 @slutforsmut4ever @yeosxxx​ @im-in-a-pansexual-panik @sucker4angstt @inolaphoenix @ilovechickenwings @tojisleftarm @andyfromku @ivysully @lightandshadow31 @jamie-poopoo @brittney69 @avatar-lover
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cafeinthemoon · 1 year
Text
King - Chapter V
Chapter 5
Title The Particle of the Sun
Fandom Shuumatsu no Valkyrie / Record of Ragnarok
Previous chapters
1 . 2 . 3 . 4
Symbols ⭕ . ➕ . 🖤
Warnings: A not so subtle (and very problematic) threat from Poseidon involving pregnancy
Tagging @cloveradora @the-dumber-scaramouche @mikkies @sl33py-zer0 @nooneknows8976 (If you want to be tagged in any of my stories, just leave a comment on this chapter or send an ask or a message)
N. A.: Finally a new chapter!! Yay! I wanted this chapter to be as long as the previous ones, but I thought I've already reunited enough information in these less than 3k words (hope you don't mind). About the story of the Particle: a curious fact about Poseidon that I discovered recently was that he was deity responsible for the Delphic Oracle alongside Gaia before Apollo was even born. I couldn't find many details about this, but my headcanon is that Poseidon still has the gift of clairvoyance, or extended vision, as said by himself here, and this will show in crucial moments of this story. I also found a way to explain the existence of days and nights under the sea and I'm very proud of my work in this :)
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When you opened your eyes, you noticed a slight change in the shade of the curtains: the abyssal black was replaced by a softer form of blue, the same blue of the sea’s surface on a sunny day. There was absolute silence in the canopy’s interior, which only changed when you decided to sit on the bed.
It was strange that you were left to sleep there: you thought you would be sent back to the lodge after the wedding’s consummation, but you were kept in your husband’s chambers for that entire night. You were debating the reason for this when you noticed a tall shadow approaching the canopy’s entry, and a hand showed up between the fabric to open it.
When the curtains were separated, the morning light shone into the space, exposing the messed sheets and the tiny human cradled among them to the eyes of the Lord of the Seas, who kept observing you with a mixture of curiosity and disapproval, as if finding hard to believe that you needed such a long period of sleep.
Well, you had no idea of how long you’ve been there, but you found that absurd.
Does this man know nothing about the human nature? If he wanted me to wake up earlier, he could’ve just called me.
It was when you noticed he was dressed in a formal, bluish attire... and realized it was the first time you saw him properly dressed. That made you look at yourself and pull the sheets up to cover your torso.
Poseidon frowned at this attitude.
– Why are you doing this? There is no need for you to cover up now. I have already seen everything I had to see.
Your reply came in an impulse.
– I’m cold.
He stared at you for a moment, then pointed at the empty space beside him.
– Here.
You tried to leave the bed using the sheets to cover yourself but, once you were under his reach, he pulled them away, throwing them back on the bed and closing the curtains. You crossed your arms before your chest: staying undressed and disheveled in front of a god under the daylight and when he himself was wearing full clothes provoked a new, incomparable embarrassment in you.
– Come with me – he spoke it like an order and, before you could do anything, he took you in his arms.
Unlike you told him, you weren’t really cold, but the absence of the sheets caused you shivers that only ceased when you were on his lap, and for a moment you allowed yourself to relax, leaning your head on his chest. It was curious that, despite the sensation of complete unfamiliarity that surrounded every aspect of your relationship with that man, you were still able to find good things in them, such as this sort of safeness in his grip and the pleasure you experienced in his touch. If this was thanks to some spell or if you were just susceptible, you were yet to find out.
That time, you were carried to a dressing area: your husband stopped with you in the middle of a room with an infinity of clothes, shoes and other female accessories, ready to be worn; on a corner, there was a screen with hand painted illustrations of coral reefs and other marine concepts, similar to the one you had on your lodge and, beside it, an open door that led to a bathroom.
Poseidon put you down and turned to a rack at his left, taking a dress with him and giving it to you.
– Put it on and go wash your face – he instructed – I will be waiting here.
What you heard instead of this was Do not let me waiting.
You did as he said, entering behind the screen to put the dress despite what he said when you cover yourself up with the sheets, then cleaned your face and fixed your hair. When you went back to him, he held your shoulders and made you turn around; you didn’t need to ask what he was doing, for soon you noticed his fingers brushing your hair. After this, he took a shawl and wrapped it around you, then took your hair out of it. You didn’t think he believed when you said you were cold, but the message behind the gesture was clear: as much as he expected you to take his words seriously, he was able to do the same for his wives, so that you had all the reasons to pay attention to the things you said to him.
Poseidon brought his hands to your shoulders again, making you turn back to him.
– Still cold?
You made a negative sign with your head.
– No, my Lord.
– Good.
You thought he was going to take you out of that room, and maybe that was his intention, but he gave up on it when he touched your ears, making you flinch.
– They are a bit swollen. What happened?
– It’s probably because I slept upon them, my Lord...
You were going to say that they would stop aching soon, but he went to a vanity and brought a tiny pot of salve with him before you could open your mouth. Stopping in front of you, he took a bit of the product and spread it between his fingers, passing them on your ears, massaging around the earrings.
– It will soothe the ache – your husband went to put the salve back on its previous place.
You nodded.
– Thank you, Poseidon-sama.
His response was a sigh.
– You are so delicate it is impressive that nothing more than this happened.
That time, the impatience you felt bubbling inside you was too much, and you couldn’t keep your mouth shut.
– My fragility seems to be an issue for you, my Lord. I’d like to understand the reason I was brought here, if possible.
For a moment, you congratulated yourself for finally speaking out, but as soon as Poseidon laid his eyes on you, you sensed your courage diminishing in an impressive speed: you looked away, your fingers griping on the shawl’s fabric with nervousness; you felt his hand surrounding your jawline, his thumb caressing the corner of your mouth.
– It is just something I had to do, dragonet. For my own sake. It is nothing you should be concerned about.
***
You had your breakfast with your husband on a small table placed at the chambers’ balcony, as large as a common, human house, with a privileged view of the white beaches through which you’ve passed to enter the castle and the furious waters that surrounded them, now showing deep, mutable shades of green under the light.
It was something that has been intriguing you since you arrived, but you haven’t had the chance to bring it out in your conversations with Alyssa: when Poseidon brought you to the balcony – in his arms – and you were exposed to that light, the intensity and the warmth of it on your skin were enough to make you think that, if you didn’t know you were under the sea, you could be easily convinced that it was the true sun.
You were sitting on a white chair while your husband took the place before you, having a beautiful breakfast prepared for two, with fruits, tea and bread, everything with excellent aspect just like the food that was offered to you at the lodge. You weren’t sure if you should start eating now or wait for him to do it, but Poseidon didn’t seem inclined in this sense. At the same time, your hesitation was noticed and questioned by him.
– I’m not hungry, my Lord.
– At least take some tea – he replied – It will help you to stay warm.
You obeyed, filling a tiny cup with the liquid in silence. A conversation then took place.
– Are you still cold?
– No, my Lord.
– You don’t seem tired now. Did you sleep well?
– Yes, my Lord. Thank you for asking.
He nodded in approval, then suddenly changed the subject.
– You seem curious about the illumination system of this kingdom. Do you think it resembles the sunlight?
Your eyes widened at this.
Such sharp eyes, those ones.
– Yes, Poseidon-sama. It’s something I’ve been observing since I arrived.
– It is because you are indeed seeing the sunlight – he continued, answering the mystery – This is a story I do not mind telling you. Long time ago, I was the responsible for the Delphic Oracle before Apollo. All my houses were placed upon the waters by that time, but I was planning to bring all of them into one, on the seabed. I offered my connection with the Oracle to him and demanded a particle of the Sun in return, just enough to make life possible for non sea creatures in the depths of the ocean. Apollo accepted the deal and ordered the Particle to behave as if it was still in the skies, and this kingdom have been experiencing days and nights since then.
Poseidon told that story while observing the surroundings, as if talking to himself; he spoke as if all of that happened yesterday, and you were hearing in stunned silence. As someone who wasn’t raised to praise the gods, you knew nothing beyond their names, and cared little about them and their acts; that was entirely new for you. But if there was something you were quick to realize when you met them, specially the one who married you, was that they never did anything without a reason, or without expecting something in return, so that the story of the Oracle made total sense to you. You weren’t sure why Poseidon was telling you something that probably happened in a time when none of your ancestors existed, but it was intriguing that a proud being like him would give up on such an important treasure as an Oracle in favor of another deity, no matter what he would receive in exchange for it.
Since he didn’t oppose to it, you questioned him about it.
– Forgive my ignorance in these subjects, my Lord, but is hard to believe that such exchange really happened.
Contrary to what you expected, your doubts didn’t provoke the slightest sign of irritation in your husband: instead, he held a smirk on his lips, observing you with a sort of pity for the said ignorance.
– You really know nothing about gods, don’t you, dragonet? – and, without waiting for a response, – When I passed the Oracle’s management to Apollo, I was not sacrificing a belonging. Instead, I was delegating a responsibility to a younger god, in a way that his work would increase and mine would diminish. I no longer own the Oracle, but I still have the ability of extending my vision; besides, Proteus, who is a prophet himself, still works for me. On the other hand, Apollo has gained experience over the ages, and with experience came power. The Particle of the Sun that he gave to me will be forever a sign of his gratitude, since I was the one who made him the offer.
Gratitude? Was he trying to teach you a lesson about this? But why?
You chose your words carefully.
– I understand you have a reason to tell me all of this, my Lord. But I fail at perceiving it.
Poseidon opened a genuine smile of contentment, and that was the most unsettling moment you had with him since the wedding: though you were now dressed, you were still feeling exposed, too close to him to try and escape, whether with your words or your feet. You observed his expression and realized it was the first time you were seeing the natural light touching your husband’s figure, a vision that enchanted and scared you at the same time: the rosy shade on his cheeks and lips, the golden shine of his hair, the blue of his eyes glowing between those long, white lashes, all of this on an impossibly proud, young face, that has been like this since the oldest past and would stay the same in the furthest of futures. To you, it was inconceivable that someone could be so beautiful yet so menacing.
But not only this was possible through his looks, but also through his words, given what he said to you next.
– Good girl, always saying the right things. But I would like to know if you are just as grateful. So, tell me: have you already thought of how you are going to thank me for granting you my favor last night?
Since you took too long to understand what he was talking about, Poseidon didn’t mind explaining.
– I did you the favor of not making you bear a child right in your first night as my wife, though I still think it is a strange thing to ask, not to say foolish. This is what I want to know: what will you do for me in return?
You swallowed. In fact, your husband’s agreement with such an uncommon request came too quickly even for you, who didn’t know him so well. Of course such generosity wouldn’t come for free.
You opened your mouth in an impulse, but held your tongue just in time, granting yourself a moment to think of a wise answer.
– I... What do you need me to do, my Lord?
Poseidon still had the same content smile on his lips, to which you felt some relief.
He’s still having fun with this. And, as long as he stays like this, I’ll be safe.
– That you are very clever, I already know, and your talent with words might keep me entertained for quite some time. It would be a waste if you would just stay with the common duties of a secondary wife, so I have a task for you: since you will not use your time to bear and raise any child until the next year, you will have entire days to go to my children’s training area and observe each of them. You will figure out each one’s most efficient technique and find weaknesses in them. Once you do it, you will develop a solution for that. Given you are a smart girl, I believe it is something up to you.
You had your hands on your lap, holding each other with all the strength they had to avoid trembling, but you had no guarantee that the same nervousness didn’t raise to your face. Yes, you wouldn’t become a mother, but that didn’t mean you wouldn’t have any contact with your husband’s children – that was the trap he has been preparing for you. And, by asking him what he needed you to do for him instead of thinking of something to offer, you easily fell into it.
I tried to examine the territory before making my offer, just like my father told me. But I should have known that what usually works with humans would be just useless while negotiating with a god. How stupid of me.
– What you will do to accomplish this is also up to you – he continued – Though I must warn you about the deadline: you will be given one year for this, nothing more. The counting will start tomorrow, by the morning, and will end in the next year, by a morning as well. By the end of this period, you will have to show me the results of your work. I will evaluate it and, if it is satisfying, your current condition, that is, of not bearing any children, will remain. However, if you show to be unable to fulfill this task…
Your heart ached, as if held tight by cold fingers, fearing what would follow those words. The table’s size was such that it allowed you to reach each other by touch, and that was precisely what your husband did: he stretched his arm over it to touch your face, making you startle despite the warmth of his skin. He brushed your hair behind your ear and you breathed deep, not daring move away.
– I still have to think of how things will be for you, dragonet – his voice was now a whisper; you looked at him and noticed an increase in his cheeks’ blush – But I cannot help thinking that you would look pretty with a rounded, swollen belly under your dress.
There was no need for explanations this time.
This offer, that sounded more like a threat, was absurd – not to say terrifying. But it was not the end for you: it was the beginning of a year full of work and discoveries, just like the ones that preceded it. And if you’ve already gone so far – entering that domain and staying alive, making a human friend where you thought you’d never see another human beyond yourself and managing to have your offer accepted by the Tyrant of the Seas – thinking of giving up didn’t make sense now.
I’m already in the bottom of the sea… What should I fear now?
You did your best to stand Poseidon’s gaze. He still had his hand close to you: you put your own upon it and turned your lips to his palm, giving it a soft, docile kiss.
– I will not disappoint you, Poseidon-sama.
And I will not disappoint myself either.
Chapter 6
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fivewholeminutes · 6 months
Note
is there an official or commonly agreed visual of Sleep?
Hi Anon! As for an official visual: no, the only thing we know from the official lore is Sleep's name (which isn't even his 'real' name) and that he's an old deity promising glory and magnificence for following him.
As for a commonly agreed one: there are certainly some repeating motifs (on Tumblr, I'm not venturing outside of here), but I wouldn't say we have one 'fanon' version of Sleep too.
Here's a lovely post by @the-speakeasy in which various people describe their versions of Sleep, you should give it a try!
As far as I know, the motifs that repeat the most are:
a creature with a lot of tendrils or tentacles;
a shadow;
sea creature-ish entity;
any type of creature with 3 pairs of eyes.
Personally, I don;t think Sleep has a physical form. He's a shapeless voice in your head. But a. i have aphantasia and b. i'm biased because of the malevolent podcast, really.
And just because I can, have some of my favorites from tumblr (even though I stand by 'Sleep not having any physical form' notion):
This art by @copper-sands / @ancientbygone, my beloved
The latest hot stuff from @thejawsoffate
These two pieces (mentioned in the post I've tagged above) by @renard-dartigue!!
Generally stuff by @blanchebees, e.g. this piece!
Dragon-Sleep by @ghcstcd
This piece by @anef-29 that is a mandatory reblog every time I see it on my dash
Notable mention: Cat Sleep by @murderofcrow!!
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daffi-990 · 7 months
Text
WIP Wednesday 📝
Tagged by @jamespearce9-1-1 & @thewolvesof1998
All the love for my last snippet from my Fantasy AU got the writing beans going and I got 2K written for it today ☺️.
A lot of you were so curious what happened to Bobby, so here is a snippet that explains things a bit. It’s set before the prev snippet I shared. I wrote this on the notes app of my phone and it’s a rough first draft so hopefully it reads well and makes sense. I really really wanted to share the whole 2K I wrote today because this girl loves validation, but I restrained myself so enjoy this long snippet instead xx
A pained groan from their right has Eddie shooting up quickly and moving towards-
“Bobby!” Buck is scrambling to his feet, feeling a bit like a newborn baby deer on wobbly legs as he closes the distance between them. He falls to his knees besides Eddie, who is helping Bobby sit up against a large rock. The arrow sticking out of Bobby’s side is surrounded by a sea of red that has spread across Bobby’s shirt. Eddie rips the fabric of the shirt open to reveal the entry wound, the smell of blood flooding Buck’s nose causing bile to rise in his throat that he quickly swallows back down.
“Shit.” Eddie hisses as he inspects the wound carefully.
Bobby winces in pain. “Eddie, you need to go.” His voice comes out strained, breaths sounding heavy with exertion and Buck is fucking terrified. He can’t lose Bobby. He can’t he can’t he can’t.
Eddie stills his hands, lifting his head to meet Bobby’s eyes. “Bobby- ”
“More are coming and you can’t fight them off alone.”
“I can fight.” Buck says with determination. Bobby made sure Buck was skilled in combat, and now Buck understands why. The soldiers hunting them aren’t going to stop if they best him. No, they’ll go for the killing blow. They’re battle hungry and fighting for a cause that they truly believe in, and that’s what makes them so dangerous, not the weapons or magic they’re wielding, though that certainly doesn’t help. Buck won’t deny that he’s scared, but he will not stand back and do nothing. “Bobby, I can fight. Let me protect you.” He pleads, blinking away the tears that have been building in his eyes. They trickle down his face, feeling warm and heavy with with grief.
Bobby smiles sadly at him, Eddie getting to his feet and stepping back to give them some space. “I know you can, Buck.” His hand lands on Buck’s neck, thumb a comforting weight on the hinge of his jaw. “But there’s fifteen more armed soldiers coming and the two of you can’t fight that many, not with so much at risk.” He looks pointedly at Buck now and Buck wants to scream and yell at whatever deity dealt him these cards. He closes his eyes against the fresh onslaught of tears. “You need to go. Eddie will protect you and keep you safe.”
Buck shakes his head vehemently. “No, no I’m not leaving you.” He won’t leave Bobby here to die alone, he’ll die with him if it comes down to it. Bobby saved Buck all those years ago, has been saving him every day of his life just by existing and loving him, now it’s Buck’s turn to return the favour. He opens his eyes and meets Bobby’s with a new sense of determination. He is not leaving him.
Bobby looks over Buck’s shoulder and gives a small nod of his head before strong arms are wrapping around Buck and pulling him away.
“No! I’m not leaving you!” Buck fights against Eddie’s arms, thrashing and kicking out, desperately trying to get back to Bobby. He is not leaving him. “Bobby! Don’t do this! Dad!”
“May Elrus guide your soul, Robert Nash.” Eddie says, Buck feeling the vibrations from his voice along his back before Eddie tightens his arms around Buck and then the ground beneath his feet is gone, air whipping around them as they shoot into the sky.
Buck yells, clutching onto Eddie’s arms, stomach swooping like he’s on the drop of a rollercoaster. A strong gust of wind blows and sends them soaring through the air, the shape of Bobby growing smaller and smaller until Buck can no longer see him through the haze of tears freely falling from his eyes.
No pressure tagging: @hippolotamus @callmenewbie @spotsandsocks @wikiangela @watchyourbuck @exhuastedpigeon @malewifediaz @lover-of-mine @theotherbuckley @loserdiaz @wildlife4life @eddiebabygirldiaz @ladydorian05 @spagheddiediaz @fortheloveofbuddie @hoodie-buck @giddyupbuck @athenagranted @rainbow-nerdss @weewootruck @steadfastsaturnsrings @captain-hen @monsterrae1 @try-set-me-on-fire @the-likesofus @jesuisici33 @jeeyuns @devirnis @disasterbuckdiaz
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senseless-writing · 2 years
Text
A Not-So-Happy Accident
Pairing: Austin Butler x reader
Summary: Austin gets hurt doing something stupid on set, and Y/n is not happy about it. 
Warnings: Talk of blood, cuts, and stitches. Nothing too graphic
A/N: This is based on an interview where Baz, Olivia, and Austin (and possibly Tom Hanks) talk about a time on set where Austin cut his face on a guitar. Of course, I can’t find the interview now, but I swear to god it was real. If anyone finds it, please tag me so I know I’m not going crazy!
If you would like to be added to any of my tag lists (I’ve got a general tag list, along with specifics ones for each fandom I’ve written for thus far), plz leave a comment or ask and let me know which one!
Masterlist
----------
The first words out of Austin’s mouth after realizing he’d cut his face open on set was “Nobody tell Y/n!” 
Which, of course, made everyone laugh. Up until that point, the room was practically frozen with anxiety, each and every person shushing to a respectful yet uncomfortable silence at the prospect of their star being down for the count. Their minds were put at ease to hear him cracking jokes. 
But Austin wasn’t joking. Not in the slightest. 
Y/n always worried that Austin gave too much of himself to his craft. The mental changes were hard enough, but physical changes scared her. Perhaps it was because she wasn’t an actor, and would therefore never truly understand the lengths to which were necessary in this sort of portrayal. But she sometimes felt like a mother scolding her child for falling down after being told not to run. 
And Austin didn’t just want to run. He wanted to fly. Which only made things worse. 
But he promised his girlfriend to always be careful on set. Not just with his body, but also his mind, soul, and heart. 
“We’re not even doing any stunts, baby. It’s the safest set I’ve ever been on.” 
In hindsight, the words felt pretty stupid now. 
The sting of ice pressed against his right temple was nothing in comparison to the sudden fear he felt over how he was going to tell Y/n. The paramedic holding the bag to Austin’s face had the same look of fear in his eyes, as if he was slightly shocked to be doing what he was doing. In most cases, these sort of professionals were just a precaution. Nobody actually expected to use them. 
The man directed his gaze towards Baz, who stood behind Austin’s chair with a comforting hand on his shoulder. “It’s a clean cut, that’s for sure. Definitely going to need a stitch or two.” 
Austin scoffed in disbelief. “I didn’t even feel it.”
“We know,” Baz said with half a laugh. “You went through the entire rest of the concert without noticing blood running down your face.” 
Austin could feel it now, though. He was just glad nothing got on the costume. “How long will it take to get the stitches out?” 
“No more than five days. Eyebrow scars, in particular, heal quite nicely. You won’t even see it after a little bit.” 
At least filming won’t be thrown off too much, Austin thought bitterly. No one was very keen on delaying the movie any farther, not after covid stopped everything for so long. Again, the actor was filled with a sense of dread. 
The feeling almost immediately doubled, however, when Austin noticed Baz’s personal assistant was missing from the director's side. 
“Baz?” he turned his head to look at the man still standing slightly over his shoulder. He spoke slowly, as if already knowing the answer but not yet ready to hear it. “Where’s Rachel?” 
At least Baz had the sense to look guilty. Immediately, Austin’s mind wandered to where Y/n sat, happily awaiting his return to his trailer across the lot. 
“You didn’t-” 
“Austin Robert Butler!”
“Oh, dear god,” he mumbled to himself, though he knew there was no point in begging. No deity could help him now. That’s what he got for finding himself one firecracker of a woman. 
She stomped over with the force of a thousand horses, and everyone parted like the red sea to let her through. It was suddenly abundantly clear to everyone on set why he hadn’t wanted to tell her about his accident. They all averted their eyes from the absolute scolding that Austin was about to receive. 
“Hi, honey,” he mumbled just as she reached his chair. The medic switched from holding ice to gauze on Austin’s angry cut, and he, too, pretended not to hear the conversation taking place. 
“Don’t you ‘hi, honey’ me! Not after you just cracked your goddamn head open!” 
“It’s a scratch-”
She pointed a finger towards him at once, swiftly silencing any poor rebuttal he thought he had. “Don’t interrupt me!” Y/n warned, and Austin’s lips clamped shut. “My honest assumption is that you cracked your head open, and you must have some serious brain damage. ‘Cuz why else would you be acting this stupid? ‘Nobody tell Y/n!’ Seriously, Austin!” 
Austin spun around, despite the medic’s protest, to stare at Rachel accusingly. “You told her that?” 
Y/n smacked him on the shoulder, and Austin’s eyes snapped back to hers with a shout of protest. “Don’t you yell at her! At least someone around here tells me something.” 
“I didn’t want you to worry, baby,” he reached out to rest one hand on her waist, which she allowed. It was a start, at least, in Austin’s eyes. 
Y/n was clearly still upset. Her arms were crossed, hands clenched in fists, and her whole body was stiff as a board. “I have a right to worry! You should thank Baz for sending Rachel to tell me, or we’d be having a completely different conversation right now.” 
Austin didn’t want to think about how that conversation would go. He could still feel the weight of Baz’s hand on his shoulder, and was suddenly immensely grateful for it. 
The older man patted his back with a gentle smile. “I’ll be right back, okay you two? I’m going to arrange for a car to take you to the hospital for some stitches. Better to do them there, right doc?” 
The medic nodded, examining the cut again. “Agreed.” 
Y/n shifted awkwardly on her feet as she watched him walk away, her fiery eyes wandering to the medic. The poor soul seemed to notice, and after a moment's thought, motioned for Austin to take the gauze he was holding. “Here, you take this. Keep the pressure, okay? I should probably help Baz make a few calls.” 
Y/n stepped forward before Austin could speak. “I’ve got it.” 
She slipped herself closer into her boyfriend's hold, pressing the gauze with gentle fingers despite the firm pressure. Austin spread his legs a little to make room for her, and settled both hands comfortably on her hips once the medic turned to walk away. 
Austin couldn’t help it. He knew Y/n was upset with him, and yet his heart still raced at the feeling of her so close to him like this. 
“What happened?” she asked after a breath.
He gave her hips a gentle squeeze. “We were doing another concert performance, like I told you. Filming for the ‘Burning Love’ montage.” 
Y/n nodded along. 
“And we decided it was time to switch into another costume, which was fine. But I’ve never worn this jumpsuit before, beyond trying it on. I guess I’m not used to how it feels yet. Anyways, it came to the part of the song where I do the guitar toss, and the strap got stuck on my cape. So I had to tilt the guitar as I was throwing it to get it unstuck, and when I did, I caught myself on the face.” 
While he spoke, Y/n used her other head to cup his face, turning it to properly examine the injury with her own eyes. Austin let her, mostly because he thought she looked really cute when focusing so intently. 
When Y/n was satisfied with her examination, her eyes met him again with a sigh. “I’m mad at you, you know,” she said very matter-of-factly. 
Austin nodded with a soft smile. “I know.” 
“You promised me you’d be careful. And not telling me when you’re hurt, Austin? Seriously?” 
“I was always going to tell you, baby. Maybe just…when everything was more under control.” 
“You mean you were gonna put a band-aid over it and call it a day?” 
His smile turned sheepish. “Probably.” 
“Mhm,” Y/n mumbled, because she knew her boyfriend better than anyone else. She knew what he was thinking, even when he didn’t want her to. Perhaps that’s what made her so angry. 
Austin fought the urge to purr like a cat when her hand found his hair, running it through her fingers and brushing it off his forehead. “Does it hurt?” Y/n asked him in a tone that told him she was on the road to forgetting her anger for now. 
“No,” he lied. It hurt a bit, though he thought he’d worried her enough for one night. 
She leaned into his tightening grip. “The stitches will hurt.” 
“Maybe,” he agreed, moving awkwardly to press a loving kiss to her cheek. Sometimes, Austin felt stupid for loving this girl as much as he did. 
Y/n giggled at the feeling while struggling to hold the gauze on his forehead, and he felt the vibrations through his lips. “I bet I could kiss it better.” 
His whole face lit up at the thought, which only made her laugh again. “Oh, you definitely could. I think that’s exactly what I need.” 
Her fingers gripped his chin lightly, pointing it down so she could reach his forehead, where she then placed a quick peck to just above the offending cut. Austin pouted up at her, tapping his lips.
“It hurts a little here, too.” 
“I’m sure it does,” Y/n hummed sarcastically, though she still pressed a small kiss to his awaiting lips. Too quick, if you asked Austin. 
“I feel better already,” he assured her. “I think I’m gonna need a few more of those throughout the night, though. You know, to speed up the healing process.” 
Y/n gave him a knowing smirk with loving eyes. “I’m at your service.” 
A true level of seriousness settled behind his next words. “And I’ll try to be more careful from now on, okay? I promise.” 
“I’ve heard those words before.” 
“I meant them then,” he nodded. “And I mean them now. Accidents happen, baby.” 
Her eyes faltered, as if suddenly feeling guilty, which wasn’t at all what Austin was aiming for. “I know.” 
He was quick to continue. “But you’re right. I need to be smarter about things. No more doing scary stuff in costumes I’ve never worn, okay? Or anything else in the same category of stupid.” 
That made her laugh, which Austin considered to be a success. “That sounds like a better deal.” 
Austin couldn’t even feel the pain in his temple. He didn’t notice the scratch of the gauze, the burn of the cut being exposed to air, or the sting from anti-infection spray that the medic put on earlier. All of it paled in comparison to the love he felt from Y/n.
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corviisquire · 3 months
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I’ve read the comments on my post abt soulsborne sleep token thing! Here’s some concept art I tried. More is on the way just… HW ew. Tagging people who were interested/encouraging this idea: @sleep-token @wingedinsect @moonchild-in-blue @foundationsofdecay @madsthenightowl @a-s-levynn
Undercut is me mindlessly rambling about what’s going on in my brain about this. Don’t read unless you like torturing yourself with reading.
I guess to start, I have only played Elden Ring (crucible knight more like crucible kill yours-IM JOKING), I’ve watched some lore videos on Elden Ring Bloodborne and DS1, haven’t played DS1 yet, and have all the art books except DS2 (cause nobody likes DS2). I’ve played very limited DND games. I’ve read lots of weaponry wiki pages but I have bad memory. If any information I say below is incorrect (like I say this sword is two-handed but it’s not or I misspell spauldor… spalder? Spauldron?) please correct me. I’m just using information I know and I’m always open to suggestions and feedback!
Random Lore Bits: Sleep and the Whale lived in peace but Sleep was always the higher deity. It created all that lives on the land and the TMBTE creatures. Sleep had many worhsippers but Vessel and the rest stood out. They were appointed as the highest knights of sleep. Vessel always had Sleep’s favor and therefore became Sleep’s vessel. Confusing I’m aware lmao. Sleep and Whale became enemies somehow and Sleep injured the whale, causing it to die. This time period before the Whale’s death was called Eden. NPCs speak of Eden all the time about how, “Peace and day has never been restored since Eden” “Eden is over” “If the whale were here, Eden would still be here”. All followers of Sleep become corrupt.
Bosses: Once killed, all bosses turn into statues and have branches grow out of them. They aren’t dead, just dormant. You can fight them again but returning to their fight area and making an offering of a certain amount of tokens. Once defeated again they return to being dormant. If you defeat all resurrected bosses (fought each one twice) you get smth called a Talisman of Blood (important later).
Regular enemies: Idk skeletons???? Giant birds??? Snakes???? Giant insectoids Idk bro???
Location: Like Elden Ring lands between, it’s called Fields of Elation. The capital city is either Nazareth or Jericho. I’ll try to incorporate Calcutta somehow. Geography is a mix of frigid coast, deep dark forest, large cavernous cave strictures, old ruined castles with mysterious rusty machinery inside, sparatic temples to sleep (all whale temples were destroyed), and the remnants of towns. Large trade road that goes through the entirety of the land is called the Path of Reason??? Idk bro I’m spitballing.
Currency: Tokens. Killing enemies and bosses earns you large amounts of tokens and like how runes work, you can level up you and your armaments with them.
Waypoints: Sites of grace, bonfires, more like RITUALS (I am not funny). I think calling waypoints rituals makes sense.
Flasks HP/FP: Estus Flask, Flask of Crimson/Cruelean Tears…. How about Flssk of H I G H W A T E R. Nah I’m kidding. No idea! Suggestions are open! I’m reading lyrics and nothings jumping out.
Incantations/Spells: Can be equipped to magic armaments and weapons! Kinda like you can choose between spell sword or just being a wizard.
Player Character: Tarnished, undead, hunter…. No idea what to call them. Robes and garments Very inspired by TPWBYT. Thinking the whale was an ancient god defeated by Sleep. Player Character is gifted with a certain power of the whale and was resurrected to defeat Sleep. Game opens with epic cutscene and player charter emerges from a cavern (TLYW) and goes through it before finding themselves on the coast of a freezing raging sea and an inviting forest. There’s probably one class you play as cause I’m lazy and you just collect armor and new weapons on the journey. TLYW style robes with greaves, hood, and gauntlets. Basic longsword.
Vessel: I’ve read the feedback and I agree that staff needs to stay. Live laugh staff. I’ve seen a few Elden ring builds where it’s right armament is staff for casting the long range stuff and left armament is a short sword, miséricorde (mercy dagger), scimitar(?), or other various short weapons. I like the image of this because I imagine him having somewhat light armor so if you’re far away, he spell. If you’re close, he stab. Spells are gonna be red. Change my mind. I like the Elden Ring boss Maliketh’s magic attacks so I imagine something like that. I imagine his boss fight starts with epic cut scene with him kneeled in a big arching cathedral temple type place and he’s like, “you seek to defeat the vessel of Sleep, foolish warrior? I have not known defeat against those of the sea nor those of Sleep” or some crazy bs like that. Half health, hands of Sleep show up and swipe and grab and Player Character. Just giant spindly hands that appear and float around. Attempts to break away form Sleep control but fails so that why he evil >:}
II: Dual wielding… what? No idea. I want him to dual wild some sort of straight weapon cause like drumsticks but honestly… sickles are so badass… Med. to light armor so he can move around a lot. Some sort of helmet with feather Mohawk. Boss area is probably in a fort outside of the main city. Just you and this guy. Get ready for a stamina check.
III: I’m torn between frenzied flame/black flame style magic user or spell sword. If magic, light armor. If spell sword, med. armor. Boss fight in a large old temple, candlelit and torn tapestries everywhere. Better have some fire immunity talismans on you.
IV: Halbert. All the way. Heavy armor my guy. Idk not much to say. Thinking banished knight ornstein inspo?? Boss fight Outside the gates to Vessel/Sleep’s castle. Vigor check time!!!
Chokehold: large dark cavern with webs strung about. It appears from above like, “A traitor to Sleep, hm? Pity. You seemed like you would be a good asset to the Vessel’s artillery.” Big axe time. High HP high strength boss. Vulnerable spot is probably its stomach area. Gives you armor, weapon, talisman, and incantation “Branches in a Flood” (roots sprout from the ground and entangle enemy).
The Summoning: Player probably stumbles upon the fight after meeting Aqua Regia and Granite. Mean killing machine. Idk what else to say erm… maybe player interacts with a sleep token symbol on a pillar with runes and it summons (pun intended) the summoning creature??? Stonehenge lookin boss area. Armor, weapons, talisman, and incantations are dropped.
Granite: Relatively peaceful NPC. Dialogue options are cool and it probably raises stats and alters your armaments. Quest line ends with Granite maybe just becoming dormant or it becomes a member of sleep again and sad boss fight initiates. Drops its armor, axes, root/weed talisman that increases stamina and immunity.
Aqua Regia: Chill and never ends in boss fight. Probably lets you summon them during other boss fights. Spear and sword. Gifts you new armor and talismans. Quest line maybe ends with them becoming too weak to keep battling and becomes dormsnt. You get their armor, spear, sword, rose talisman that raises FP, and a spell/incantation that shoots gold acid rays called Gold Rush or smth similar (Like Aqua Regia? Get it?)
Vore: Awesome boss. Inflicts poison damage for sure. I think we can all imagine how fighting Vore would be. In a poison lake haha it wants you to suffer. Armor, weapons, talisman, and incantations are dropped.
Ascensionism: Swords swords swords. Pulls a Starscourge Radahn and turns a meteor and player has to dodge lmao (cause yk ascending). Boss area is probably in a giant colosseum that’s old and crumbling. Armor, weapons, talisman, and incantations are dropped.
Are You Really Okay?: Player character pulls a stupid and decides to touch and inspect the strange incubator with a fetus inside and AYRO appears and is like “DONT TOUCH MY CHILD” initiate boss fight. Small castle is the boss fight area. Armor, weapons, talisman, and incantations are dropped.
The Apparition: Big guy, big hammer. Boss fight is somewhere in a forest clearing. No other ideas for it. Drops weapons, armor, talisman, incantations like everyone else.
DYWTYLM: Chokehold but with tiny dagger and looks like a giant engine. Probably shoots fire from the pipes on its body? Chokehold is PISSED if you defeat this guy first. Brothers fr fr. Boss fight in an old building filled with machinery. Speed is low but HP is super high. Drops armor, weapons, incantations, and talisman.
Rain: Your magic immunity better be HIGH. Renala style fight: Crazy hits, bad defense. Probably drops some crazy cool incantations, armor (really bad armor), and a talisman of fire immunity and raises your FP. Boss fight area is in a shiny crystaly forest area surrounded by weeping willow/wisteria like trees.
Take Me Back To Eden: The last boss before Vessel. Killer fight. Armor is also fire??? Difficult but probably super dope. Boss fight is in a SUPER large hallway in the castle of Sleep. Drops weapons, armor, talisman of resistance against airborne attacks.
Euclid: NPC that’s probably cranky and hesitant to befriend you at first. Still a follower of Sleep but respects the players fate to defeat the sleepmiester (I’m so tired bro—). Might fight you idk.Once dormant, drops and old mask of Vessel, a few incantations, and armor.
Endings: Endings one: You defeat vessel, sleep becomes dormant and no gods rule over the land. Retires and vessels are resurrected. Endings 2: You defeat vessel and become the new Vessel of Sleep. No difference from first ending, you just chose if ya wanna be evil or not. Endings 3: If you acquire the Talisman of Blood, Sleep sees you worthy to fight them without using a vessel. Radagon Elden Beast situation. When you defeat sleep, the whale is resurrected.
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Welcome to Dante/Leon OTP Week!!
Use the tag ---> #DanteLeon2023Week to tag all your wonderful art and fanfics!!
Here's the prompts for each day with special art from the amazing @tianhai03 & @dmc5se
If you need the prompts here they are:
Nov 26: Game Swap AU - Foreign/Domestic - Romantic Dancing Nov 27: Time Travel AU - Key/Lock - Genuine laughter Nov 28: Deity AU - Ancient/Modern - Swapping Good Luck Charms Nov 29: Cowboy AU - Near/Far - Cooking together Nov 30: Soulmate AU - Sky/Sea - Outfit swap Dec 1: Forbidden Love AU - Yes/No - Kiss under the Mistletoe Dec 2: College AU - Mind/Heart - First Date
Have fun and make sure to @ this blog so that your art or fanfics can be featured and archived here!! :D
There is also a twitter account here! https://twitter.com/DanLeonOTPWeek
May we all live Happily in Rarepair hell!
Mod Fury
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streets-in-paradise · 25 days
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i am back,once again!!
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i’m srry i had to
anywayyyyy
okay so i got this idea,could u write about some cute moments between achilles and (fem)reader who loves the beach/anything that has to do w the sea?maybe like a drabble or smth??idk if this is vague but lmk
hahaha, hi!!
( woow, you pick your graphic intros and everything. that shows dedication i love it 💕)
Absolutely, I can do this.
Also, this will be super fitting because, despite the movie left it up to interpretation, his mom is a nereid (greek deity of the sea). When he is not fighting the job of Achilles is beach lol.
It turned out longer than a drabble because I kept thinking on your Achilles x girly/fashionista reader ask from last time and it kinda influencied me into doing a full oneshot mixing bits of both ideas.
Sea lover reader is also a capital city girl moving to Phthia who is quite girly and with a bubbly personality, enjoy <3
The Waves' Caress - Achilles x (Fem) Reader
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Warnings: Mention to the sociopolitical things going arround in the Greece of the film ( Agamemnon's imperialism and the big picture civilizatory plan he mentions to Nestor in the scene where he convinces him of calling Achilles through Odysseus.)
Tags: @zoegarfield @lovelybaka
Vocabulary note: Strophion is an ancient times equivalent of a strapless bra, piece of greek clothing that can be imagined to resemble a bathing suit.
A deep love for the sea had allways been a part of you, so wherever fate would take you it was your hope to forever remain near the beach. Movings weren't usual in your life, used as you were to a comfortable lifestye in Mycenae as the daughter of a royal scribe. However, your father was a functionary for an empire in constant expansion. Official scribes were required everywhere to keep registered records and contribute to public order. The pretended civilizatory mission of King Agamemnon counted with that, so it wasn't a great surprise to hear he intended to relocate him on the most conflictive territory of his domains.
Myrmidons had a fame of being the fiercest soldiers of Greece, and his disdain for their strongest local leader was a threat to the very core of the order he intended to establish. Raising the mycenaean presence on the region was his idea to balance things. Populating through migrations of qualified officials and their families was his idea to stabilize politics and he was quite proud of it. So much that he even took the iniciative telling your family about it by himself, never missing the chance of doing awkward jokes only he would find funny.
As he charmingly enlisted the perks of his new position to your father, he punctualized one single downside. With his attention shortly deviated on you, Agamemnon playfully warned him to watch over his beautifull daughter from Achilles and his men.
The attempt of polite praise failed, but you pretended to go on with it to avoid upsetting him. Not surprised, but crushed by the news, all you did was asking if your new home had sight of the sea.
Phthia was a rocky territory where mountains were more abundant than fields, but it also had increíble beaches that became your only comfort in the arrival. As peacefull representatives of an occupation force, your presence was inpopular. Among the multiple functions of scribes there were a few that could be considered benefitial for the community, but your father was also supposed to work with those in charge of keeping track of the taxing.
It was obvious that the king wanted the handfull of new functionaries to handle a situation previous administrators couldn't control efficiently, that you were perfectly fine back in your birth city and adaptation was going to be a struggle.
Feeling more lonely than ever, in a position where you didn't feel comfortable trying to make new friends, all you had were your long walks on the beach.
The caress of the waves was comforting for you, and the salty tears of homesickness felt small mixing in them. Hoping that your sorrow could be temporally washed away, you would often speak out loud as if the forces ruling the water could hear you.
It was about presenting yourself with your fears, your dreads, begging for strenght and bringing small offers so the minor divinities populating those shores would get used to your presence. If mortals weren't going to make you feel welcome for obvious reasons, you could at least develop roots in the land bonding in a spiritual way.
At one given time, you tossed a silver ring for the waves to swallow. A really expensive one that you ripped from your finger with disgust, careless of what your father would say about that. That was your way of showing the local gods that you weren't Interested in the spoiling of their land, and if you had to stay, you wanted to find a spot to belong in doing good.
Lost as you were in your thoughts and prayers, you completely ignored there was a man watching you.
He noticed, and didn't waste time in making you realize of his presence.
" I'm an expert on anger and this doesn't look good. What happened? Did the man who gave it to you failed in behaving as he should? "
You turned back following the sound, only to discover the mesmerizing image of a blond man with piercing blue eyes. Blue as deep as the sea, captivating and haunting. His simple garments, vest and skirt of matching blue tones, made him look like a marine god coming at you.
" There is no man making me suffer other than my king. Unless seaking revenge on his orders, I doubt any myrmidon would want to get close enough for that. "
He smiled with skepticism, almost as if he taunted you.
" I would give you one afternoon in a tavern to prove it wrong. "
You couldn't help smiling and that only encouraged him to get closer pacing calmly in your direction.
" People come and go arround here, but I have a good memory for pretty girls … I guess you must be new. "
The flirting, way faster than what you were used to, was yet consented and very much appreciated. However, you feared the response you had for him would ruin everything.
" My father is the new royal scribe: we just moved and I have nowhere to belong here yet, except for this beach. "
The clarification soften him instead of sending him away.
" I was born here and still belong nowhere, only the sound of the waves bring me clarity. "
That subtle comfort was sweet enough to mean something without breaking the appearance of mightyness.
" I don't seek isolation, but stumble with it for unwillingly representing the evil deeds of Agamemnon. "
He got to close, close enough to smell the scent of your hair mixed with the breeze caressing it.
" I fight his wars, but never do it for him. He is not my king and as long as you are here he doesn't have to be yours either. "
He said enough to be recognized and the name came out softly from your lips.
" Achilles … "
The warrior smirked as a confirmation.
" i have been warned against you: Agamemnon told my father in front of me that you are the doom of every woman. "
Description that had clearly amused him.
" Did you believe it? "
He wanted to know if you were willing to give him a chance of proving himself.
Lost in him as you were, no voice of reason would have made you deny him that.
" It's too early to fall in any assumptions. "
His hands were cassually resting on his hips, eyes glancing at the sea as if he tried to reclaim a lost capacity for keeping distance.
" I come here often, maybe you will find time to form your own perceptions of me. "
An invitation to let him join you that you accepted in a heartbeat. Company was a great improvement and your attraction to him did get you trustfull with ease. The way in which you took his hand in your walk back into the water told him all he needed to know regarding the kind of girl you were.
Bright and pure, so innocent that he was still twirling his mind arround the lively attitude you began to show as fast as you felt safe arround him. There were no traces left of the angry sad girl he reached out to once her loneliness was disrupted.
All smiles for him, even more beautifull than before in his eyes.
More encounters kept happening and the thing wasn't left at random. Since you agreed to see each other with the excuse of your beach walks, the marine wildness became witness of your infatuation.
Without realizing of the meaning in his actions, Achilles began searching for you in every corner of the city hoping to cross ways in the middle of your daily activities. His gaze would search you in the crowds with very little success, making him crave more and more for the next secret meeting.
As most refined girls from the big city, you were one putting great care into your appearance. The pressure for beauty among rich nobles have shaped you that way, but he could tell you were a humble young woman whose harmless vanity couldn't be mistaken for shallowness. You also happened to be very well instructed, prepared to talk of any topic one would bring to you for conversation and always delivering a charming sensitivity into the talk. He sincerely thought you deserved a chance to be loved among his people regardless for the bunch of political servant fools you had arrived with.
Perhaps, because he himself adored you.
With the progression of your meetings evolving into implicit beach dates more surprises kept happening.
Achilles got to find out what that linen dyed of blue he found you buying at the market was for when you showed up one day in a cute match of strophion and skirt that left him breathless.
His blue eyes roamed your figure like the waves's caressing, yet you didn't seem to notice the impact you had on him and quickly ran towards him with your usual lovely carefreeness.
You clinged for a hug rounding his waist with your arms.
" Achilles! Want to go swimming? I came prepared this time. "
The sweetness of your tone made him feel almost guilty for enjoying the moment so much.
" I see, you look like a siren ready to raid the shore. "
The weird compliment made you giggle and excitement pushed you to show off, freeing him to give proper space for him to watch you.
" Do you like it? In Mycenae I used to go swimming with my friends, so my mother allowed me to make a new attire for swimming inspired by the local colour in order to feel more in home … Although I never told her who was my real inspiration."
Your attempt of souding suggestive was too cute and he couldn't resist the tenderness.
" It's perfect, you look so beautifull it's painfull to look at directly … "
Achilles interrupted himself, only to deliver his conclussion in a whisper.
" … And I love knowing you were thinking of me. "
Heat started reaching your face, but you tried to sustain the bravery that got you there.
" I'm always thinking of you. Mother says it seems my head is on some cloud, but in fact it is on the sea. "
Lovefull words started flowing from you with ease simply by staring at him for too long.
" On your eyes, that seem made of it. All its misterious charm compacted in one glance … and I wonder how is that even possible. When we meet, I mistook you for a god of the deepness. An inmortal servant of Poseidon answering my prayers. "
His eyes followed the soft features of your face with discrete adoration.
" You are the miracle I never expected, sweet girl of a love so pure that it's drowning my heart. "
Silently and relentlessly, the few distance between you dissapeared. Achilles held you by the waist and you caressed his cheeks into your first kiss. Although the breeze should have cooled you down, you were feeling your while body on fire and nothing could have stopped it.
As soon as you released each other you made him chase you into the water so the caresses of the waves on your skin would mix with his. Catching you took him a bit because you kept diving away as part of the game, but when he got you in his arms he refused to let you go.
Once you had enough fooling arround, he proved to have one more surprise for you.
His seashell necklace, that he colocated on you after filling the spot with kisses while you were drying together near the shore.
Words weren't enough to thank him, but you tried anyways.
" It's so beautifull! How did you know I wanted one like yours? I was trying to make one myself, but i'm collecting only the prettiest shells I find for it. "
Your reaction caused him a blissfull pride.
" Keep mine, I want you to have it. This way, my men would know you are mine without mycenaeans realizing. A subtle symbol that will make myrmidons respect you. "
The explanation got you even more excited, but you also felt a sudden sense of shame.
" I have nothing to give you in return. "
Achilles chuckled, as if he knew something you didn't.
" Wrong again, pretty one. "
With the cocky comment, he exposed his hand showing off a detail you didn't notice before.
Your silver ring on his finger.
" Impossible! I tossed it away for the deities to take, it should be resting deep in the ocean. "
Achilles enjoyed himself with your child-like amazement.
" Tomorrow, I will take you to see the most beautifull point of our shores. One you don't know yet, where no one dares to go, and there you will meet the one who gave it back to me. "
It confused you even more, but that was understandable.
Achilles was aware you had no idea that you had already won the good sight of his mother with your thoughtfull prayers and sincere love for her essential element.
It was him the one who still had hard work to do in order to charm your parents.
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