#owl!ratio

[iamcassian]

I really like @havanillas owl Ratio a lot.

Welcome back to another episode of Cass can’t draw feathers. Bowing down to havanilla’s skill in art in general but especially feathers and scales.

In the event that havanillas sees this I am your biggest fan I’m sorry 😭😭😭

[aventurineswife]

Owl Veritas in heat be like lmaoo...🫣👀

This is all your fault ☹️💔 @kaveriahsolos115

The room was dimly lit, the faint glow of crystals casting long shadows over the intricate carvings of knowledge etched into the walls. The stillness was oppressive, a tension thick enough to suffocate. You stood there, watching as Veritas—no, Owl—paced like a predator caught in a trap, his hair disheveled, his alabaster mask resting discarded on a table. His eyes, now rimmed with exhaustion and something darker, flicked toward you, then away, as if ashamed of the raw vulnerability simmering beneath his usual sharp confidence.

He was different tonight, and the realization hit you like a blow. The proud, unyielding scholar was unraveling before you, his heat burning through his restraint.

He clenched his fists, his frame trembling as he leaned heavily against the wall, his back turned to you. His breaths were shallow, ragged, as though he were fighting an unseen force clawing at him from the inside. The golden owl-shaped shoulder pieces seemed to gleam mockingly in the dim light, a reminder of the facade he struggled to uphold.

“Leave.” His voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper, laced with a plea he’d never admit aloud.

You flinched but didn’t move. You couldn’t—not when he was like this, not when he was drowning in whatever storm raged within him. You took a tentative step forward, the soft rustle of your clothes breaking the silence.

“Don’t,” he growled, his tone sharper this time, though it lacked conviction.

Ignoring his warning, you closed the distance between you, reaching out to touch his shoulder. He stiffened under your touch, his body a coil of tension.

“I said leave,” he hissed, but his voice cracked, betraying the fragility beneath his command.

You ignored his words, your hand sliding down his arm until it rested on his clenched fist. Slowly, you pried his fingers open, intertwining them with yours. His hand was hot, almost feverish, and you squeezed it gently, grounding him.

He refused to look at you, his gaze fixed on the floor as though it held the answers he sought.

“You don’t have to go through this alone,” you murmured, your voice soft but steady.

He finally turned his head, his eyes meeting yours. They burned with frustration, anger, and something more vulnerable—something raw and unguarded.

Without warning, he pulled you against him, his grip almost bruising as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. His breaths were hot against your skin, his body trembling with the effort to keep himself in check.

The heat radiating from him was unbearable, his need palpable in the way his fingers dug into your waist, the way his lips ghosted over your skin as though seeking permission.

You cupped his face, guiding his gaze to yours. “It’s okay,” you whispered, your thumbs brushing away the dampness at the corners of his eyes.

His lips found yours, desperate and unrelenting, a collision of want and need that left you breathless. His hands roamed, seeking solace in the only way he knew how.

You let him take what he needed, your touch soothing, your whispered reassurances grounding him as he unraveled and rebuilt himself in your arms.

The fire eventually ebbed, leaving him slumped against you, his breaths heavy and uneven. You guided him to the bed, his body pliant as you helped him lie down.

You tended to him, brushing his hair from his damp forehead, wiping the sweat from his skin. He watched you through half-lidded eyes, the edges of his lips curving into something resembling a smile.

“You’re insufferable,” he muttered, his voice weak but tinged with a warmth that made your heart ache.

You smiled, pressing a kiss to his temple. “And you’re stuck with me.”

He sighed, his eyes closing as he finally allowed himself to rest, his hand reaching for yours and holding it tightly as though afraid you’d disappear.

And as you stayed by his side, watching over him, you knew he’d never truly push you away. Not now. Not ever.

Don't read the tags again...🧍‍♀️☹️