Tumgik
#I don't claim to be able to draw flowers but I tried :)')
americaswritings · 4 months
Text
Voices of Roses and Ruin
Warnings: Psychological torture, manipulation, Coriolanus being himself
Summary: Coriolanus is forced to watch the gamemaker use his voice against you in the arena.
Words: around 2k
Pairing: Young Coriolanus Snow x reader
A/N: I watched TBOSAS yesterday and yeah don't judge me but young Snow is hot and I shipped him and Lucy Gray a lot (until it all went downhill cough cough). Obviously he's horrible and does many unspeakable things later (!!!). But I think the idea of a love story between a mentor and their tribute has so much potential and when I saw the birds in the film I thought of this idea.
This is written from Coriolanus perspective (I haven't read the book yet. I just bought it and I'm so excited to read it!). I obviously wanted this to be about real feelings, but I tried to stay true to his character so there are some 'questionable' and alarming thoughts and motifs in here.
Can be read as Lucy Gray x Coriolanus Snow here
Part II | Masterlist
Tumblr media
Coriolanus had thought watching you in the arena, alone and scared, hiding from a pack of murders that were hunting for your life was among the worst things he had ever gone through, but nothing could have prepared him for the Gamemaker’s new horrendous plan.
He was tired, just as you were, but refused to go home like most students had done. Instead his head was resting in his hand as he kept watching your sleeping form, as if he could protect you if he just kept his eyes on the screen and on the lookout for a potential threat.
He wouldn’t be able to do anything for you, if the pack of murders found you. He couldn’t warn you or give you advice.
All he could do was sit here and watch and he found himself thinking if this was not the worst torture of them all; being trapped here while you were out there and all he could do was watch.
You were trembling in your sleep, if from the cold or fear he didn’t know, but he kept his expression carefully guarded as he felt his own heart breaking bits by bits.
Even there covered in dirt, with your hair a wild mess and your clothes strained with mud you looked breathtaking to him.
You were pretty, there was no denying that. Everyone else saw it too. He saw it in the way heads turned for you, men‘s eyes raking over your body like you were theirs to take.
He hated it, every part of it.
They all deserved to die.
But it wasn’t your looks that had drawn his attention to you. What had fascinated him. He liked to think he wasn‘t shallow like most people and blinded by pretty things.
No, what has drawn him to you was the way you carried yourself. The confidence you wore like an amour. Yet you were breakable at the same time.
You seemed to be made up of duality; strong but so weak, fierce but uncertain, opinionated but withdrawn, stubborn but helpless.
You were a dangerous little thing and a petite fragile flower at once. Drawing all eyes on you but forgotten due to your ordinariness by most after a moment.
Not by him though. To him you could never be ordinary.
It was frustrating and captivating and alluring.
Naturally, his constant worry for you since you had entered the arena stemmed from his will to get the scholarship. It was what he deserved and he would claim it.
Tht was why he was so engaged in saving you, not because of the deep unease he felt when he saw you in that arena, your eyes drifting around frantically until they passed a camera and he could have sworn they had locked on his for a moment.
It had nothing to do with the way his whole body seemed to light up when you smiled or the invisible pull he felt towards you when you were in the same room as him.
He definitely didn’t want to kiss you and he didn’t dream about you since the reaping, when his eyes had fallen on you for the first time and he had only thought one thing: You’re mine now.
Mine to claim, to showcase, to protect.
He had gone into the mentorship thinking he would use you to serve him and his purpose of getting what he deserved, but as he watched you now, still rooted in his chair although a deep exhaustion weighted down his body, he knew he was serving you.
Being here with you every second of the way. Vowing to protect you. Whatever it took.
You awoke from your restless sleep right before the screaming started. In an instant you were up, your eyes widened in panic as you gazed around, trying to locate the source. With the rest of the students that had stayed Coriolanus flinched in his seat, leaning forward to try and help you figure this out.
As quickly as it had started the screaming stopped and for a moment you were one, both breathing and blinking heavily as your mind tried to make sense of what happened.
And then he heard a voice. His voice. “Follow me.”
He forgot to breathe for a moment as he stared at what was happening in pure shock. You seemed just as confused, turning around in circles as you tried to find him there.
„Coriolanus?”, you whispered and took a step forward, towards the voice. “Follow me”, it whispered again and he watched you do.
No, no, no.
Around him he heard chuckles from the other students, but he drowned them out. All he could focus on was you, following his voice through the darkness. “Where are you?”, you hissed, your eyes darting around. “Why are you here?”
“I’m here for you.”
He sank lower in his seat, wishing himself somewhere else. It wasn’t him saying the words, obviously, but it was his voice and everyone could hear it, see you follow it.
He hoped people would laugh about you. About your nativity and the brilliant idea of the gamemaker to use your mentors voice against you. Hell, he didn’t even care, if they thought you might have a silly little crush on him and the gamemaker used it against you.
Because if people knew the whole truth, he couldn’t imagine the catastrophe that would follow.
The truth that there was something between the two of you, the mentor and the tribute. That it was something he couldn’t explain, but had let him do dangerous things. Break rules. Forget himself.
The truth that this might not be him speaking those words now, but that he had spoken them to you once. Had they been listening all this time?
His stomach twist in terror as he tried to remember all you had shared with each other, all he had said to you. Promised you.
It would ruin him.
“I can’t see you”, you whispered now, being led further into darkness.
Damn it, think! He wanted to yell at you. It’s not me. I’m not there.
There was no reason for him to be there.
Except…there was.
“I’m here to see you. I won’t let anything happen to you!”
“How cute”, one girl hissed in his ear, but he remained stoic. “She’s as dumb as they come”, another said and he wanted to punch her. Enjoy the feeling of triumph when she looked at him in horror and didn’t dare open her mouth again.
“Looks like you’re guiding her straight to her own death. How ironic.”
And it was ironic.
Maybe in his attempt to protect you, save you, all he had done was ruined your one chance.
All he had said to you to make you trust him and then because he hadn’t been able to stop himself were used against you now and all he could do was watch. Keeping his face carefully blank he shut out their voices. They didn’t matter.
Finally he saw you hesitate. Maybe you had remembered his exact words or maybe you realized that you weren’t getting anywhere. That if it truly was him he would have just stepped out of the shadows and shown his face. “Is this real?”
Oh how funny it was to the people around him. He hated them all. Every single one.
Your words hit a mark. They pierced right through his heart, because he had said them to you. Whispered them. Before your farewell, when he had visited you one last time.
Your faces had only been separated by a few inches and he had fought the urge to kiss you right there and then. But he couldn’t.
Because of everything, but also because it felt too much like goodbye. It was stupid, but if he didn’t give into the temptation then, a part of him hoped it meant you would come back to him.
That your chapter wasn’t over, your story just starting. He would kiss you when you won. When there was a chance for a future with you.
Still those words had escaped his mouth, like he needed the reassurance that you felt the same way. That this meant something, so much that it was worth the risk.
Coriolanus leaned forward in his seat, hope blossoming in his chest. He didn’t know why whatever game they were playing with you hadn’t affected the other tributes yet, but he was sure their time would come.
And right now it seemed you wouldn’t fall for their tricks. Because there could come no answer to your question, as he had been the one asking it.
But he had underestimated the gamemakers.
Instead of a reply there came a scream and then a groan. “Coriolanus?” “Help me!”, he heard himself yelp. What?! He had never sounded like that.
But then flashes came back to him. The bombs. How the arena had collapsed, almost burying him alive. He would have died there, if it hadn’t been for you.
You had saved him.
But how in the hell did they get his voice now?!
“Coriolanus!”
Gone was the glimpse of hesitance and suspicion and you began sprinting into the direction the voice was coming from.
No!
He watched with dread as you ran directly towards the sound. It’s not real, he whispered, knowing you couldn’t hear him but desperately hoping somehow his words would reach you.
When you stumbled upon a clearing you jerked to a stop, twisting and turning, your gaze furiously searching for something.
“Coriolanus! Tell me where you are!” But he could only hear his own painful screams, in between pleading for your help. Sounds he was certain he had never made.
What was this?
With a stab of pain he saw your face was tearstained. You were crying. For him. For someone from the capitol.
Was this what the gamemaker wanted?
Whatever you did or said would never matter again.
All everyone would see when they looked at you now was the broken girl in a dark forest, all alone and desperate and crying for a man she never stood a chance with.
A man who knew hunger just as you did, who in a way fought for survival every day too. But they would never see that, because unlike you he wouldn’t let them. Where you had no choice, he still had one. And he was watching that one chance crumble in front of him.
Flashes of a better life filled his mind.
A house. Plates of food. Tigris smiling. His uniform, a real one made from the finest materials hanging draped neatly over a chair. Laughter echoing through the corridors and then a flash of your face as you stepped into the room, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as you leaned over the desk to peek a look at what he was working on.
It was the life they deserved, he deserved, if he got the scholarship. But you were there too. Alive and well, just as breathtaking. And you were his.
There had never been the choice between the scholarship and you, because they were one. Your life was connected to it and so his was to yours.
But now he could loose both and he felt the agony of that thought travel through his whole body.
The screaming seemed to be everywhere and he watched helplessly as you bent forward, covering your ears. All he wanted was to get the screaming to stop, wrap his arms around you and tell you everything was okay.
Instead he forced a neutral expression on his face, as if seeing you break didn’t break him the same way and pray for this hell to end.
Part II
Tags:
PERMANENT
@capkilljoy @fairytalesforever @hamartocado @choke-me-sweet-pea @sleepinginthegarden7 @thenoddingbunny-blog @ttalisa  @hallecarey1 @Not-jay-c @sunwardsss @writingrem-blog @the-pink-petite-princess @wanniiieeee @part-time-patronus @unnuevosoltransformalarealidad  @theshortegg @not-reptilian @msdrpreist @alisonhepps @hallecarey1  @thatfangirl42 @dustyinkpages @ellabellabus07 @iluvjj  @wayward-hunter  @sweet-texas-girl @rosie-posie08 @ @olsensnpm  @meyocoko  @alexxavicry @shhh423  @dumb-fawkin-bitch @jayyeahthatsme @savagemickey03  @alexxavicry @partiallypearl @earthtolottie  @gisobsessedwithfanfiction  @navs-bhat  @AlohaStitch_626 @multi-fandom-lover7667 @xcallmetaniax @esposadomd  @halsteadloversworld @girlintheredscarf  @randomwriter1021 @joyfulfxckery 
Add yourself to my taglist!
2K notes · View notes
mactavishwritings · 1 year
Text
Fresh Ink Part Three
Ghost x Tattoo Artist!Reader
You were always there for him. Would he do the same for you?
Tw: tattoo needles, kidnapping <3
Part one | Part two | Part three | Part four|
It had been about a year and a half since you had started tattooing Simon and about a year since you and Ghost had started seeing each other. You had worked on his sleeve until it creeped up over his shoulder and onto his back. You asked him multiple times to let you do his other arm, but he refused, claiming that he didn't want to run the risk of ruining a single piece with scars or wounds. You told him constantly that you would always cover it up, but he denied every wish. What you did manage to convince him of was to allow you to do a thigh piece; a giant portrait of Ares, the God of War and Courage, with a battle scene background. You had sketches drawn up in your notepad you kept besides your bed, not letting Simon get any early peaks. He always said he trusted you, not wanting any peaks any way, but you always caught him trying to look over your should while you were drawing.
The two of you tried to step up many appointments for Simon to get this tattoo done, but every time the appointment came around, he would get sent on a mission that would pull him away from you for weeks or even months at a time. You felt like you were being stood up, but you knew he couldn't control it. You saw in his eyes that he felt terrible about it and he didn't want to leave you. Whenever he did come back home, he came straight to you. You were his home; he never need to stop at his apartment, he had clothes at your house, and you were always waiting for him with open arms. You were the only home he needed. That and your shop made him feel happy and warm.
Speaking of your shop, you had expanded and you hired another artist to work in the shop with you. It lessened your work load incredibly and gave you the ability to see more of your clients. It definitely helped you relax a lot. Simon noticed the relief immediately, seeing you walk with less weight on your shoulders. You even had the ability to update your room even more; adding more decorations and pictures of you two. Emma made fun of you occasionally, but thought it was cute. Finally, Simon was able to get his thigh tattoo done. He was sitting in your chair, leg up and exposed. You were focused on the tattoo gun, dragging the needle carefully down his thigh. "You know, we've never had a real first date. Our dates consist of tattoos and movies at your place." Simon stated, hand resting on your back. You paused and leaned back in your chair, looking up at the man. "What? What do you mean?" You had a loopsided smile on your face, leaning up towards Simon who leaned back down in response. "I wanna take you on date. A real one where you dress nice and I bring you flowers."
Your face flushed and you gently kissed Simon's cheek before going back to his tattoo. "What were you think, love?" You pulled a deep line, thickening that side to add dimension to the piece. "I want to bring you to some fancy place where we make fun of the other people dining and I want you to wear some pretty dress that will make me drool all night and some heels that make your feel hurt so I'll have to rub them later." Simon played with a piece of your hair that fell out of your ponytail. You giggled and nodded along to his words. "And I would invite you in for a tea afterwards and you would come up with me. We would sit on my couch and drink the terrible I have because I don't drink it." Simon smiled brightly, the smile that only you get to see. "Exactly! Next day you're off, we're going because I don't know when my next mission is." You nodded, pulling another line, a thin one this time.
A couple days past and Simon had texted you that he was cashing in on his date card. He had texted you the day before that he was going to take you out so you had plenty of time to get ready. You treated yourself that day, a full shower, shave, and lotion. You spent the whole day focusing on yourself and getting ready. You knew that Simon would appreciate you taking the time to ground your mind. He wanted you to feel special, to know how much you meant to him. At half past 6, you got a text from Simon saying that he was outside your apartment building. You giggled and double checked yourself in the mirror before running out the door. You felt like it was a first date and you were still trying to impress each other again.
You met Simon in the lobby of your apartment, where he stood with a bouquet of fresh flowers. It was a variety of different flowers, from white lilies to pink roses. You took the flowers in your hands and your face flushed. “Thank you, Si. You really didn’t have to.” You planted a soft kiss on his cheek and he offered your his arm. He wore his usual skull mask, a pair of black fitted jeans, and a plain grey tee shirt that he had half tucked into his pants. Johnny must’ve given him some pointers on how to dress for this date. “I know. I wanted to though. You look absolutely stunning.” You had put on exactly what he had asked of you; a nice dark red dress that stopped right at mid thigh and a pair of heels that were already making your feet hurt, but nothing you couldn’t handle. You took his arm and gracefully walked with him to his car, smiling brightly up at the man, trying your best to ignore the stares you were getting.
The dress you picked out highlighted all of your tattoos, showing them off just how Simon liked. You knew it wasn’t usual for a woman to be completely covered in tattoos, but it was becoming more common. Most of the women who lived around you were clean and pristine, so of course they gave you stare downs whenever given the chance. Plus with Simon’s hulking figure and his mask, you two were like a show for these older women to gawk at. You felt slightly uncomfortable, wanting nothing more than to shrug on a jacket and hide in it. Simon must’ve noticed because he dropped his arm down and wrapped it tightly around your waist. He ushered you quickly into his car. “Ignore them, love. We’re gonna enjoy our evening, despite them.” Simon reassured as he opened the door for you, leaning down close to your face. You smiled, breathlessly nodding before sliding into the passenger seat. Simon reached over you and buckled you in and closed the door before quickly jogging around to the driver’s side and jumped in. You smiled happily as you wrapped your hand around his arm, leaning your head on his shoulder as he took off down the road.
"So we have two options; sushi or steak. Up to you." Simon kissed your head and you shrugged. "Choices choices choices....I think steak." You hummed and Simon smiled. "I like it. Let's go then." Simon quickly changed lanes and turned left. You leaned back in your seat and grabbed his phone to change the music to something you liked. Once you arrived to the restaurant, Simon opened your car door and you stepped out. You smiled at the place and Simon locked his car before guiding you inside. You guys were seated at a booth and you two sat across from each other, him reaching out to hold your hand. You squeezed his hand and grabbed the menu. "You want me to order for you, honey?" Simon looked at you, his thumb rubbing across your knuckles. "Yeah, whatever you think is good. I'm not sure what to get." You scanned the menu a few more times before placing the menu back down at the edge of the table. Simon nodded, before calling the waiter over and ordered a bottle of wine, two steaks, and an appetizer for you two to share. You smiled and leaned back, watching Simon check his phone before sliding it back in his pocket. Your smile faltered for a moment and your shoulders dropped.
"It's going in my pocket and not coming out for the rest of the night, I swear." Simon's hand came to rest on your arm and you nodded, smiling softly at the man. "You get called away any time we try to get together... Don't want to get my hopes up is all." You turned out as the waiter brought out the appetizer. Simon grabbed your hand gently as you tried to divert your attention to the food. "No no, baby. Look at me. I am here tonight and I am not going anywhere. I swear to you. Not tonight, You have me tonight." Simon whispered to you and you blushed, nodding. "Now let's enjoy the rest of the night without worrying about when I am leaving." You two were finishing up the rest of your dessert and you hand your wine glass in your hand, eyes practically in hearts. Simon was telling you one of his mission stories and his fingers laced with yours. When the check came, Simon immediately handed the waiter his credit card, not letting you even see the total. You blushed and finished the rest of your wine, rubbing his arm lightly.
The two of you decided to walk around the park that was down the road from the restaurant. You two held hands, walking past other people in the park. It was a clear night, relatively warm, and the sky was clear. You were just about to say something to Simon when his phone started buzzing in his pocket. Your shoulders dropped and your stomach plummeted. Simon squeezed your hand, before taking out his phone. You sighed as the man stepped away to take the call. The only reason you knew it wasn't good was he kept looking back at you with a familiar look in his eye; the look of sadness that he got when he had to leave you for another mission. You sighed and crossed your arms across your chest as Simon came back over to you after he hung up. "Babe..." Simon grabbed your arms and pulled you close to his chest. "Si. It's okay. It's your job, you can't control that." You casually shrugged and Simon shook his head, leading you back to his car. "I leave in two days. You and I are going to stay in your bed until then and I don't want to hear otherwise."
Those two days came and pasted and Simon stayed true to his word. The two of you stayed in your bed, minimal clothes and only getting up for food and the bathroom. When it came time for Simon to leave, you drove him back to base. You smiled at the man as he leaned over to kiss you deeply before getting out of the car. You rolled the passenger window down and Simon rest his forearms on the open slot. "Will you be here when I get back?" You nodded, knowing the hidden meaning behind the question. "Always." You reached your hand out and Simon grabbed it and planted a kiss on your knuckles. "Seeing you after the missions always make them go by faster. I now got something to come home to."
The mission had only lasted 3 weeks, but it felt like forever for you. You tried to make it go by faster by taking on more clients, but even Emma could tell your mind was elsewhere. You had just finished your last client of the day when you felt eyes on you. You turned your head to see Simon standing at the entrance of your room with his mask pulled up to his nose. "Oh my god! I didn't know you were going to be home this week!" You squealed and rushed over to the tall man. He was prepared for your weight, easily lifting you with one arm wrapped quickly around your middle. "Wanted to surprise you. Called Emma earlier to see if you were still in." You giggled and planted kisses all over the man's face. You tried to push his mask up more, but he stopped you, looking over his shoulder. He walked further into the room and closed the door, before finally shedding his mask. "There he is." You whispered as he sat down on your tattoo chair with you on top of him. You kissed his forehead, nose, and finally lips. "(Y/N). I need to have a serious conversation with you. You know that my job comes with risk, right?"
You got nervous and nodded, arms resting on his shoulders. "Have you seen anything weird? Gotten any weird messages?" You had never seen Simon so serious before. You thought back and shook your head. "I need to be open and honest with you, okay? We got intel that a suspect we've been chasing has touched down about 10 miles from here and I need to know immediately if you see anything weird or unusual." Your body got tense and nodded. "We don't think you'll be in any danger, but I want you to be prepared." You rubbed Simon's shoulder, feeling the stress he had been holding onto for the past few weeks. "Thank you, Si. I will let you know immediately. Pinky promise." You held your pinky out and Simon wrapped his around yours; you both leaned down and kissed your outstretched thumbs to seal the promise. A few days had pasted since that conversation, and you had forgotten all about the threat. You had just parked your car in the employee parking lot you recently opened and walked around to the front door of your shop to unlock the door. You were wrestling with your purse to find the keys when you noticed a note on the door. You grabbed the note and opened it; the paper had a black serpent symbol on it and that's when you heard the squealing of tires and you looked up. You gasped when you saw a black van pull up behind you and two masked men jumped out, grabbing your arms and covering your mouth. You cried out, kicking your legs as they dragged you into the van and driving off; not before dropping both the note and a black ace card on your door.
You were fighting the men off when you were injected with a drug in your arm. You felt your mind go fuzzy and the panic increased tenfold. Tears rolled down your face as you thought of Simon's words, knowing this would practically kill him. You closed your eyes, feeling the fight leave you as darkness over took. How would you survive this?
480 notes · View notes
kazemiya · 1 year
Note
Hiii! It was always such a delight to read your work and I was waiting for your reqs to finally open again and it did, yayy! Can I request for Kohaku, Hinata and Ibara pining for reader that is dense in their advances? And can I be 🦋 anon??? Thank you! <3
★彡 Reader that is oblivious to their advances
Characters: Kohaku, Hinata, Ibara
a/n: THIS REQUEST IS VV CUTE!! I’m glad that you enjoy my writing! Thank you for waiting so patiently for my requests to open and for requesting! Also I apologise if their ooc, Ibara feels painfully ooc. Oh and ofc you can be 🦋 anon! They’re so pretty
Tumblr media
♡ Hinata
He tries to hint that he likes you through like subtle flirting. Kind of. It isn't pick up lines or anything too flashy though. He teases you a fair bit
Everyday, he tries to match the time that you reach school. So that he can "not so coincidentally" meet you near school, for those extra minutes to talk to you
If you come to school earlier than him, he will run to catch up to you, out of breath but still able to give you a smile
He also gives you small compliments every single day. But unfortunately you don't get the message behind any of them.
"Y/n! You look great today!" "Y/n! did you do something to your skin? it looks super good today!"
Poor Hinata. Not only do you not get the message, you also tend to pull a reverse card on him, to his dismay. "Hinata, you look really good yourself!"
Bless his heart honestly, he is trying so hard.
"Y/n!" You feel someone tap you on your shoulder. Hinata greets you with a cute little wave of his hand, the other holding on to an opened sweet drink. "Y/n. Take a sip, the drink is newly released so I don't think you've tried it before"
You accepted the drink, the slightly cold sensation against your fingertips, startly you. Gulping down a little of it and proceeding to wipe the remnants off your lips. "Well i have to go, thanks for the drink!" waving goodbye.
His eyes widens in bewilderment as you pass the drink back to him, alas another attempt failed. He stares at the opening of the bottled drink and sighs. You'll realise it soon at least he hopes.
"Aniki, if you think they will ever realise your advances, at this rate, you'll get nowhere!" Yuta shakes his head disapprovingly, he clearly has seen this scene unfold before his very eyes one too many times.
Hinata attempts to deny his brother's claims, but even he knew that no matter how many subtle hints he dropped, it still wouldn't be enough.
"Alright Yuta! We have a confession to plan!"
Tumblr media
♡ Kohaku
Someone help Kohaku he is on the verge of giving up due to your obliviousness
He invites you to CrazyB practices, which he has never done to anyone. Ever. Even the rest of CrazyB is shocked.
Gifts you matching things quite often too! "Y/n, heres a matching flower keychain to celebrate the start of Spring!"
"Aww that's cute can I have one-" "No you may not Rinne"
Tries to seek you out during his extra time to go out like HiMERU suggested. Tried his very best to make bento like Niki taught him.
"Ok so Kohaku! You got this ok, we are rooting for you!" Niki encourages enthusiastically. Today is the day he was going to confess to you, he was so nervous he could feel the sweat droplets sliding down his back.
Kohaku nods frantically in CrazyB direction (they were all hiding behind the wall), and meets you at the spot he planned.
Once you arrived, he choked out a few words awkwardly "Please go out with me Y/n!"
You cocked your head to the side in confusion then suddenly, you slammed your first against your open palm. "Oh! Does CrazyB need me and you to go out and get something done?" Linking your arm to his, you pulled him along "C'mon Kohaku! No time to waste!"
Heaving a heavy sigh and a despondent air around him, he had no choice but to follow along. Head in his open palms, mumbling "back to the drawing board"
Tumblr media
♡ Ibara
He is definitely a busy man but is always willing to put aside any time for you. One second, he could be tell Anzu that he is having quite the busy day.
And the next second, he sees you just down the corridor, "Y/n! is that you?" and chats up a storm.
Eden probably knows that Ibara has his eyes on you and they are either teasing him because of your obliviousness or giving him advice on how to confess (he takes all of their advice with a grain of salt).
He is also the first few to know if there is any rumours circulating about you and will always defend you first! He can think rationally about it later
He invites you on dinners regardless of whether or not its a fancy dinner at a restaurant or dinner at the office late at night. Once again I emphasise this, he hardly ever goes out of his way to invite someone to dinner like that.
"How long do you think it'll take for y/n to know that Ibara is interested in them?" Jun asked the group.
"Im giving it 3 months" Hiyori convulsed with laughter, just thinking back to all those times that Ibara advances completely flew over your head.
"Don't think so lowly of Y/n and Ibara, they have existing... potential" Nagisa attempted to defend Ibara, which caused Jun to stiffle his laughter.
"Stop it, y/n is just slow with my advances they will get understand eventually." Ibara finally spoke up in this discussion.
You knocked onto the Eden practice room door, Ibara requested for you to come meet him there. The door slides open and Ibara hands you a bag of treats. "Y/n hello! here you go"
"Woah where did you get so many treats from"
"They're just fan gifts" he replied nonchalantly.
"I don't think you should be regifting these-" a finger shushed you before you could finish your sentence. "Ibara! You should at least appreciate your fan's gifts! did you at least keep mine?" pouting a little from realisation that Ibara never takes fan gifts seriously.
"Of course I did, I kept some of them, I'm just regifting the treats I don't eat, don't worry too much about this" he softly manuvered your shoulders to face away from him and shoved you lightly away from the practice room. "Goodbye y/n! I'll meet you for dinner later"
"So whos gonna tell y/n that Ibara only kept her fan gift?" Hiyori questioned.
145 notes · View notes
threeshotsofespressou · 8 months
Text
Arien/Ballister headcanons
This is just a thread of headcanons with Ballister and Arien, an OC made by goldenheart-supremacy. Bro also made fics and arts so go check them, they are really nice to read. Helped me with my headache. First one is focused on Goldenheart, second one includes more stuff with Arien.
Also this post is bloody subjective so I'm not claiming that it would happen if Arien was real.
(also I'm writing it while being sick so It might lack logic)
So there's my impression of dynamics between Ballister and Arien
Throughout fanfic, Arien helps Ballister with flowers, even though at the time Bal had not so good reputation. He does it with "Ugh, fine" attitude since it means actually doing something. But the thigh is, he becomes one of those people who can see the real side of Ballister, even though he doesn't interact with him as much.
Therefore, I think his attitude towards Ballister will obviously change. And for me personally it would change from "Neutral" (you exist, but I don't really care) to "Positive neutral" (you exist, and I'm okay with this).
So at the moment when Ballister hugged him after all his help, I'm sure he didn't really mind it and was pretty much like "Mm, It's fine". I'm also convinced that he pushed Ballister off himself is bc Ambrosius was watching, so the more they stayed like that, more headache he will gain himself in the future. Maybe if Ambi wasn't there, he either will wait for him to let go or will ask "You're done?" if he wears out of patience.
I also think that he might've help him sometimes, not straight up but still. For example: - He might've seen Ballister sneak up to train more, but if guards asked him, he will say he saw nothing (although he might just think "snitches get stitches")
- Flower language. Because what if HE was the one to give the idea to gift Sunflowers? Like if he visited his sister (and she after a talk with Ballister thought about the best option of flowers might've asked Arien about his opinion with no particular context) and suggested sunflowers. Bc now I'm convinced that if this man has a nerdy side then he will be nerd for flowers. Probably will know every meaning and peculiarities.
- Arien might've been one of the reasons Ambrosius understood his feelings for Bal. Bc if someone hugs your "friend" you won't react like that person just kidnapped your puppy.
HOWEVER I also think that he will also not hesitate to help him straight up, just not so active. Like when he gave him his cloak, although he might've not and simply not care. Another thing that caught my sick brain is possibility that Arien helped Bal with training, adding little notes of why Bal wasn't able to do some things correctly (since Arien and other knights were a bit more experienced at the beginning)
Quick to adulthood. I want to think that they sometimes can chat nicely about casual stuff, just getting to know each other nicely without pushing too much, enjoying each other's company. So maybe they will trust each other enough with some personal stuff they don't normally tell people. I just thought about the scene where they both looking at the kingdom from the wall, accidentally meeting each other before, casually talking, which ended up with some deep personal things. And at this exact moment when both will suddenly realize that "Oh. We are friends" or something like that. Bc they won't say it out loud, especially Arien - he will think that it's unnecessary.
That's pretty much it. I can write much more but my brain is dying so no, not today. I'll just leave you with dirty Arien doodle which I tried to draw but ended up hating.
Tumblr media
7 notes · View notes
thecrowslullaby · 3 years
Text
The secret keeper.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
I took small break in my work to attend @rondoel art-stream (They are a very nice person and their comics are seriously amazing and if you somehow stumbled upon this post and don't know them yet I absolutely recomend to check out their blog. Especially if you're in the sander sides/overwatch Fandom.) and they got me into the mood to draw Janus.
The amount of hands was a mistake but at least it's finally done :')
A sort of follow up to the Roman one.
I have an idea for a Virgil and Patton one but those will need to wait for when I'm done with commissions and other projects.
141 notes · View notes
to-be-a-dreamer · 2 years
Text
Alrighty so I finished all the fic titles that people sent asks about (I might go ahead and talk about the last two just cause they're also very fun) so now I have an excuse to talk about tattoo artist Charlie from the "Against Fate's Design" one! I don't know why that's the part of this AU that I decided to fixate on, but it is and y'all just have to deal with it. (Plus a little bit about the actual main characters and the general plotline, just cause I’m so nice like that <3)
First thing's first, I changed it so Charlie doesn't own the tattoo parlor, he just works there. I would love it for him to be the owner, but after a bit of research, I don't think it's very likely that he would have his own shop at his age. (I don't know how old he is, he's just young)
Charlie has loved drawing since he was a little kid and kept up the hobby all throughout middle and high school. He never really considered turning it into a career, but eventually decided to major in studio arts after one semester of majoring in English and hating it. (He loves reading and writing but he prefers to leave that as a hobby)
He and Jack went to the same college and had a lot of classes together. Charlie wasn't quite sure what he was going to end up doing, so he tried a bunch of different art mediums while Jack focused on painting.
Once he got his degree, he still wasn't completely sure what he wanted to do, but he had a good portfolio and he'd purposely taken a lot of different classes, so he had basic experience in most major art mediums. (I know very little about being a professional artist so if anything is inaccurate, blame Google for lying to me)
He sent his portfolio off to a lot of different places and ends up with an apprenticeship in a tattoo parlor. (I kinda want to write Charlie's backstory so I'll leave it at that for now) It's not at all what he thought he'd be doing with his life, but within a few months, he can't imagine doing anything else.
His first few tattoos are small, just little symbols and flowers and such in easy-to-cover places that aren't perfect, but the clients seem happy with them. His mentor claims he wouldn't have been able to tell they were done by an apprentice if he didn't already know.
I have no idea who Charlie's mentor is. Maybe Denton? That could be fun, but I don't really see Denton as a tattoo artist so I'm not sure. Pffft, what if it's Mr. Jacobi? That's kinda funny, we'll go with that for now, might change it later, idk
Anyways, the parlor Charlie works at does both tattoos and piercings. We'll say there are four tattoo artists and one piercer. (They all basically just shared the job of receptionist until Race was hired) It's a small town, but they have a good reputation and get clients from all over the county.
They do a combination of walk-in and custom tattoos. Since Charlie's the newest, he mostly ends up doing walk-ins, but he's starting to work on customs, which he finds really exciting. He's the least busy out of the four artists, so he also gets to do some pre-drawn designs for walk-ins, and a lot of the tattoos he does are still his own original work.
The parlor itself looks a bit run-down on the outside, but the interior is very clean, bright, and welcoming. The walls are painted light blue and they're absolutely covered with concept designs and pictures of finished tattoos. They all have colored frames and there are other fun decorations, so it's very bright and colorful. A lot of parents bring kids there to get their ears pierced, so any scary or NSFW designs are kept in the back and only shown to clients who ask. (it's also just a courtesy to their other clients who might not want to see that kind of stuff) All of their stations are in the same room, but they can close curtains around them if the client or the artist wants privacy. Jacobi has a zero-tolerance policy for tattoos containing hate speech of any kind, and the artists are allowed to refuse to do any tattoo that makes them uncomfortable, even if it seems silly. There's usually at least one artist in the shop that can do what the client wants, so it's never been a huge problem.
Charlie does a lot of different design styles, but he especially loves flowers, animals, and geometric patterns. He also likes doing color tattoos or anything that allows him to have creative freedom. When he has the opportunity to try a different art style or a different technique, he takes it without question.
As for his own tattoos, I think he probably got a couple of small ones in college, and then some bigger ones over the past few years working in the tattoo parlor. He and Jack got their first tattoos together in a really stereotypical "nineteen-year-olds living on their own for the first time and getting matching tattoos" kind of way. They probably got something basic on their ankles, like Jack got a sun and Charlie got a moon. A few years later, Charlie got a Harry Potter lightning bolt on his wrist but eventually got it covered up with a watercolor pride design. His last college tattoo is the lyric "celebrate yourself triumphantly" from Kinky Boots which he has in pretty cursive along his left collarbone. (that one hurt the most, but he kind of likes that, it's almost... fitting)
His first tattoo out of college was technically the lightning bolt cover-up, but besides that, he designed this really cool geometric flower design that went on the back of his calf. It's colored as well, and it was one of his first designs that got turned into an actual tattoo. If he were to try the same design at the time of the story, it would probably be a lot better, but he doesn't have any plans to try and "fix" it.
Charlie has spina bafidia, a congenital disorder that means he was born with a gap in his backbone that left a section of his spinal cord exposed. He can walk pretty well with just crutches, but he sometimes wears leg braces for extra support and occasionally uses a wheelchair. He's had a couple of surgeries to treat it and he definitely has some kind of tattoo around the surgery scars. Maybe it's like a tree or a flowering vine? Something like that I think. He doesn't cover it up, he incorporates the scar tissue into the tattoo itself and turns it into a work of art.
Finally, he has two cats, a calico named Elle and a tuxedo named Snoopy. He has tattoos of each of them on either shoulder blade. They're kind of cartoonish, but still really pretty. Elle is playing with a blue butterfly and Snoopy is crouched down looking at a little yellow flower (imagine those yellow dandelions that grow up between the cracks in sidewalks with tufts of grass)
At the time that the story takes place, he's working with Jacobi to design a half-sleeve for his forearm, which will be his biggest tattoo yet. It's going to be an outline of a bunch of flowers and butterflies because he has a part-time job at a daycare and wants to let the little kids color it in with markers. They already draw on him as it is, cause they think his real tattoos are cool, and some of the kids want to be like him and "be a tattoo artist".
He originally started working at the daycare because an apprenticeship doesn't actually make him any money, but he just couldn't bear to quit, even when he started making enough money from tattooing. He only works weekends, but the kids all know him and he enjoys it a lot. If for whatever reason, the tattoo artist thing doesn't end up working out, his backup plan is to go back to school for an elementary education degree.
He and Jack kept in touch a lot after college, especially since Charlie's work is pretty close to the city, so Jack makes the 1-hour drive pretty often. When Race gets hurt, he isn't able to come in person as much, but he talks to Charlie on the phone nearly every day. He doesn't ask about the job for Race, Charlie just hates to see his friend so upset and stressed all the time. He knows Jacobi was thinking about hiring a receptionist anyways, and when he explains the situation, his boss is more than willing to help out.
It's very obvious that Race is struggling with his whole situation and Charlie does his best to help the kid out without being suffocating. He knows what it's like to be coddled and underestimated, so he's comfortable with letting Race be more independent than the rest of his family and friends do. That also means that when Charlie tells Race he's pushing himself too far, Race is way more likely to actually listen without a fight.
The two of them make fast friends and he's probably the main reason Race isn't completely miserable at the tattoo parlor. Charlie doubts that Race will ever be an actual tattoo artist. Maybe he could do some small, simple designs, but he doesn't have the passion or the drive that you need in order to be a tattoo artist as a career. Unless he has a big attitude change, he'll most likely stay as a receptionist, but Charlie is still teaching him a bit about design and the basics and such. If nothing else, it's probably good for him to know how to talk with clients about the procedures.
He's spoken to Spot a bit, but Spot always comes super early in the morning and Charlie tends to stay late at night, so they usually miss each other. It's a pretty small town, so they know each other in the same way that everyone knows each other, but they're not much more than friendly acquaintances at the beginning of the story. (When Race starts working at the parlor tho... Charlie suddenly starts seeing a lot more of the handsome florist from next door... It's probably nothing.)
In the actual story, Charlie isn't technically a main character. In television series terms, he's probably going to be a reoccurring character. I think the story would switch between Spot and Race's POVs like Sorry, Wrong Number, so we would mostly see him through Race's perspective. Race has met Charlie a few times, but with his dancing career, they just never had the time to properly become friends. Race likes him, but he just knows that Charlie is gonna spy on him for Jack, so he's reluctant to fully open up to him at first.
Charlie is not spying on him for Jack, the most he does is promise Jack that he won't let Race push himself too far. Once Race figures that out, he and Charlie get along great. Charlie is kind and comforting but also sarcastic and funny in a way that compliments Race's own sense of humor really well.
I'm not gonna lie, I don't have a very detailed plot outline, so I don't really know exactly how their relationship progresses, but they end up being good friends by the end and Race is really appreciative of everything Charlie does for him.
I have put way more thought into him than is necessary and you would probably never learn half of this in the actual story, but my brain decided to develop this character first out of all characters, so here we are.
Tag List: @races-stupid-cigar
11 notes · View notes
chatsu · 3 years
Text
Tumblr media
˗ˋ there you are
Tumblr media
genre — angst, fluff (?) warning — mentions of death, grief words — 2,124
Tumblr media
notes — it is 3:07 am, and i don't want to come up with a synopsis so, i shan't <3 this is my first writing post,, so uhh, please give me criticism !
violet chrysanthemum — unbearable pain at the thought of losing a loved one white chrysanthemum — reserved for sympathy and remembrance lyra — a constellation, which you can read more about here !
Tumblr media
hugging his knees on the pavement, oikawa tooru couldn't help but overhear the faint chitter of loved ones greeting each other, serving as a reminder to why he was lamenting in the first place. a combination of heavy sobs and pleas of a miracle, he had grown used to, yet he still found the letters engraved on the cold stone in front of him almost foreign.
the anniversary of your death was fast approaching. caught in the fast lane of change, tooru has experienced almost every stage of grief. almost.
he remembers a shade of reddish brown framing your corpse. a metallic odour accompanied by tears burning every inch of his face, creating a sickly feeling in the back of his throat, which only multiplied as he released his frustration in the form of bargains.
' if only's ' and ' what if's ' his brittle voice had echoed — temporary truces, in which he begged and pleaded with every god and goddess known to the universe, in an attempt to negotiate his way out of this harsh reality.
from denial to anger, and from bargaining which soon melted into his current state of stark numbness in your absence. the past seemed more alive than the present.
stationed on the 4th, hazy reminders of a once living past seemed to obstruct his path of progression leading to the 5th and final phase of this grieving process that must inevitably follow. acceptance.
tooru is a competitive man. on the court, he is capable of adapting to new environments, examining their playing style, studying each and every player in a matter of seconds and having the ability to draw out their strengths — thus, blending into the team as if he was apart of the original line up.
yet, surrounded by this atmosphere of sorrow and anguish, he stuck out like a sore thumb. even after scrutinizing how others had dealt with this profound feeling of misery, their so called 'methods' were in vain, and he continued to suffer.
his fear of being second best, he now had no chance of overcoming. because as if in a race, tooru was exasperated, struggling to catch up with everyone else.
even the stars are lonely, but at least there were a multitude to keep company, and he couldn't help but envy them. your family, friends, hanamaki, matsukawa, hajime, even takeru had accepted the fact that you were gone, as they smiled fondly, memory sweet with you.
tooru could not remember the last time he smiled — a genuine one, that is. one that isn't plastered on when prompted with the constant ' how are you holding up? '. one that creeps up to his eyes to resemble a crescent moon. one with familiarity and love. one because of you.
the setting sun bathed everything in shades of lavender, painting the flowers propped beside your grave a colour he had wished they were. telling a tale of many consecutive days spent in this location, they bloomed brightly and never wilted away for they were regularly changed with a newer, hand picked bouquet. today, the flowers hadn't the ability to mock him, for today was different.
earlier, under what he thought were unfortunate circumstances, he was left stricken by the lack of purple petals accessible. left with no other choice, he let his fingers fumble along those coloured as snow instead. however, opting for these flowers proved to be difficult, as he realised he was breaking his routine.
because the shadow of the past still hung over, his fear of being second best soon morphed into a fear of change. a fear of everything changing. again, while he still had not adjusted to his scars wounded by time. it was nearing a year since tragedy struck. a year since that decisive moment of change.
but due to a sudden yet short lived act of bravery, tooru chose to cease sewing the seeds of habit, and as of right now, he found himself laying these flowers in their accustomed seat atop the gleaming stone. stems slightly compressed due to his secure grip, but petals remaining untouched. although both were chrysanthemums, the previous batches had been violet, and the current were white, simple as.
it is only when his nephew appears in his peripheral, he is snapped out of his trance, plastering a soft smile to veil his conflicting thoughts. hardly a word is spoken between them as takeru gently places an article of clothing on his lap, then is soon walking off.
leaving tooru with more questions than answers, his eyes shift downwards and widen at the sight of his old aoba johsai uniform folded ever so neatly. at an agonizingly slow pace, his slender fingers start to inspect every nook and cranny of the oversized — on you, not him — jersey. he holds it gingerly for this specific piece of fabric is a memory preserved.
and like a bridge to the past, tooru finds himself traversing along the nostalgic path, illuminated by memories time seemed to have dimmed.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
as if the past is burned into his psyche, he still remembers the day you ignored him, well at least tried to.
though your actions were deemed fruitless, as you soon dropped your facade when he eventually caught up to you while you were walking home. mentally cursing yourself for your futile attempts at avoiding him, you had confessed that you were not in fact jealous, but curious as to why there were so many girls wearing his exact jersey. there was an attempt to stifle a laugh, yet one look at the stubborn pout on your face was all it took for tooru to burst out laughing.
"what is so funny?" you had tilted your head with a slight scowl painting your features.
impatiently tapping your foot, you waited for a response, but from his hunched figure and the smack! when he brought his hand to his knee was confirmation that his fit of laughter wasn't going to die out any time soon.
"oikawa" you had puffed, and the use of his last name was enough to get his attention, as he flicked an invisible tear off his face.
dramatically, with his hand latched onto his hip to form his signature stance, his free arm stretched out and squeezed your shoulders.
"they're not mine" he chuckled with a shrug and a smile — smug, yet genuine.
"listen tooru, i'm not dumb. you're the team captain right? the number 1's on the back practically mocked me!"
"may i ask, how many were there?"
"you mean how many were wearing your uniform? hmm i don't know, maybe every single girl i saw cheering?"
"yeah, and do you really think i'd have that many jerseys to give away? iwa-chan would be kicking my ass if i was constantly getting new jerseys!"
moments of silence passed and you figured that he was right, but your stubborn demeanour wasn't going to admit defeat that easily.
"i suppose that it would cost a lot of money, which you don't have, seeing as i was the one who had to pay for lunch yesterday. plus, you uhh, still seem as small as you were in first year so i assume you wouldn't need a change in size"
feigning a gasp, he clutched his heart and claimed that it was his turn to ignore you. snickering in response, he cupped your face and peppered it with kisses until he spoke up again.
"you know, ordering uniforms are pretty common for fangirls. buuut, you don't have to spend a single dime 'cause there's only one i'd like you to wear"
digging into his bag whilst motioning you to lift your arms up, he pulled out his aoba johsai jersey. he quickly put it on you and stood back, admiring how the cloth adorned you — no, how you adorned the cloth. this went on for a while, him staring at you in pure adoration, until his face lit up and he went back to fumbling in his bag.
"here! to fully establish that this is for you and you only, a limited edition, aoba johsai uniform, signed by the oikawa tooru" he beamed, placing the top of a permanent marker in between his teeth and biting the lid off.
his left hand found purchase on your waist as the other was in the midst of signing the front and back of your shirt with his signature. tooru being, well, tooru, he began to embellish the entire fabric in little hearts with ' tooru + y/n 's in large lettering, until he was interrupted by your arms outstretching and pulling him in for a hug. deciding against sulking about not getting to finish his oh so lovely drawings, he instead chose to reciprocate and nuzzle into your neck, basking in your warmth.
from then on, it was an essential garment to your outfits. yes, you were reluctant as the bright turquoise colour certainly did not match with everything, but ' you can pull off anything ' is what tooru had claimed. some fashion advice coming from the mf who wore plaid shorts <3
unlike the rest of your clothes in the closet collecting dust, it remained hung up on the handle, ready for use. from matches to study dates which later transitioned into sleepovers, he always complimented your attire in different ways as if it was your first time wearing it.
braiding his chocolate coloured locks, he lay on top of you, the back of his head on your stomach as he made an effort to mirror the rhythm of your breathing with every rise and fall of your chest.
after a lack of commentary, you noticed that he was not staring off into space, but rather the glow in the dark stars you had stuck up on your ceiling. deciding to take advantage, you extended your arm to switch off the lamp adjacent your bed, and while the light faded, the stars gathered overhead.
"oh - hurry up tooru, look! it's a shooting star, make a wish" you gushed, having one eye shut while the other awaited his reaction.
"come on now, you know i didn't bring my glasses with me today, hmph"
"no no, how does that saying go — you don't have to be able to see it to believe it! you're the one always saying those cliche quotes all the time"
".. angel, i'm sorry but this is all just a yellow blur to me. i really can't see anything"
huffing at his habitual use of endearment, you wrapped your hand around his wrist and straightened out his index finger to guide it towards the ' shooting star ' that had not moved from the centre of your ceiling.
"better?"
"much"
letting out a satisfied hum, you both closed your eyes, your conversation, but not your minds as they wished upon the faithful glints of gold which magnified the tranquility of it all.
you eased your grip around his wrist but he took this as an opportunity to interlock his fingers with yours. and with the stars winking from a pitch black sky, your wishes combined, and the soft squeeze of your hands, it was a silent promise that you would always be with each other.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
perhaps it was the flower's slight change in hue which resulted in this caprice of fate, because for the first time, he finds himself recalling positive memories rather than remnants of your death.
and for the first time, tooru accepts. the unknown feeling envelops him, yet it does so with open arms, a welcoming smile, and no judgement.
the way he allows his tears dye the turquoise clothing a darker shade, he recognizes that he is no longer under the false pretence that all is well.
he need not question why the corners of his lips subliminally upturn, because as as he clutches this jersey, it's almost as if he is clutching you once more.
while the last stars still fleck the sky, he thanks those lucky stars, for it is you there with him, and he finds solace in your presence.
but this time, tooru isn't afraid to let go.
by no means does he intend to let go of you, no — never. but to let go of the affliction, pain, and instead have regard for the past in preparation for the future. in preparation for change.
and with his damp high school uniform, his smile that is heartful, and the lyra hanging heavy in the eastern sky, they all begin to coalesce into his former self.
the tooru who is not a genius. the tooru who underestimates his own strength, the tooru who overcomes adversity. the tooru, whom you are in love with.
and with the knowledge, and most importantly, acceptance, that you are no longer here with him physically,
oikawa tooru knows that wherever he goes, there you are.
107 notes · View notes
babylooneytoonz · 3 years
Text
the Vessel [ Pt. 14 ]
Tumblr media
— pairing: Geralt of Rivia x reader
— summary: You, Geralt and Jaskier are on the road again, and something is on the Witcher's mind. How would you react to it?
— warnings: a lot of fluff🥺
*Please reblog if you like it, do not repost or claim my work as yours.
[My Masterlist] [My Witcher Masterlist - Read the other parts here!]
Tumblr media
"I'm still here, you know?" Jaskier deadpanned, kicking a stone that came his way, cradling his long lost lute like a baby.
You chuckled at his words and sunk back into your lover's arms, who was seated on the mare behind you, your head now resting against his sturdy chest as you looked up at him and he looked down at you, smirking slightly.
"Come on Geralt, Jaskier's jealous. He thinks you've stopped focusing on him now that I'm here," you giggled playfully as Geralt shook his head, amused and craned his neck slightly, giving your earlobe a bite.
"Well, I'm not jealous, but I definitely feel like a third wheel, and in dire need of an inn—"
"Or a brothel," you added, and Geralt hummed in agreement with you, his thick, veiny arms locking around your now wide girth making you feel ticklish and squirm, "On a serious note, Geralt. Can we stop? I really need to take a piss. And a bath."
"Gosh, [Y/N]." Jaskier pretended to cover his ears dramatically, "You're the Princess of Cintra!"
"So?" You scowled, taking your foot out of the saddle and jutting out your leg so you could kick your friend's bottom but he dodged it, "Do princesses not take a piss? Besides, I am not a Princess anymore."
"What?" Geralt and Jaskier said out loud, together. And you nodded. Whelp. In all the drama, you had forgotten to actually tell them why you had run away. Or that— you had run away.
"Well, I sort of left it?" You drawled, absentmindedly and Geralt nudged you slightly, looking down at you, concerned.
"Why?" He raised a brow.
"Well, it seems that not only did the Witcher had some things to hide," Jaskier began, and you glared at him, "by the looks of it, you have something to tell us [Y/N]?"
You scowled, running your hand sheepishly through your hair and began clearing your throat, when Jaskier interrupted, "Don't tell me Queen Calanthe decided to name your baby Podrick."
You gave him a look of disbelief at first; but couldn't keep a straight face, as you bursted out laughing.
"What's wrong with the name Podrick for a boy?" You asked, wiggling your brows at him, and Geralt shook his head, faintly, silently amused.
"Well, Princess [Y/N], if you have a boy, you are naming him after me. Jaskier, obviously?" He smiled at you, wiggling his brows in retaliation.
"Or maybe, Dandelion?" You began, and both Jaskier and Geralt muttered, "No." At the same time.
"I won't have my son named after a flower, for fucks sake," he grumbled under his breath, and you pouted, pushing out your lower lip as you felt Geralt's palm ghost over your belly, protectively securing his palm over the bulge of it and you smiled.
"What happened in Cintra?" Geralt suddenly asked, manouvring the conversation back to where it had started from, and you looked down at your hands, rubbing them against the fabric of your dress.
"Mother wanted me to marry Foltest."
Upon hearing your words, the Witcher stiffened, his hand slowly pulling away. Suddenly, he tugged at Roach's reins so hard, the poor mare stopped."Ouch," you cursed under your breath, and then tried to pacify the sudden uncomfortable silence between the three of you by making small talk, "What?"
"I'm sorry but your mother wanted you to marry that sister fucker? Isn't that right Geralt?" Jaskier nudged your foot that was in the saddle and you sighed, your shoulders tensing slightly. Geralt was morosely quiet, and although he was a man of few words, you felt like this revelation was going to stop the progress that he was making with you.
"She thought that's the only way to protect me. And this baby. Because a lot of enemies will want to get their hands on me. Although, it's stupid, right? I mean, I have Geralt to take care of me," you muttered absentmindedly, staring at the flock of birds that flew past your mare.
It was only when Geralt cleared his throat, a little to coursely, that you craned your neck slightly towards him and noticed how his jaw had clenched, and he was fisting the reins in his grip.
"Shall we move on? We should reach a village in an hour or two. We can see if an inn can accomodate us," he bluntly added, and you blinked, looking down at Jaskier and giving him a questioning look.
Tumblr media
Lucky for the three of you, the three of you reached a nearby village sooner than you had expected. By that time, you were exhausted; your body sore at all the odd spots that you couldn't even put a name to or say it out loud. Geralt helped you get off Roach, his movements being tender, but he did not even once, try to talk to you.
The three of you entered the tavern, Jaskier leading the way in while you waddled through in the middle, as much as your bump allowed you to move. Geralt was in the extreme end, and you couldn't see much of him, or hear from him, except for a few occasional grunts you received.
Geralt got the three of you the last of the two rooms that were available and Jaskier disappeared into the first one, leaving you and Geralt to settle down in your own shared room.
You sat down by the edge of the bed, the bed creaking when you put your weight on it. Geralt placed his sword by the chair, before his hands came to rest against the fabric of his shirt and he started prying it off.
"Are you going to say something?" You finally asked, pulling both your hands together and rubbing them as though you were cold, "You've been sulking ever since I told you about what happened in Cintra."
Geralt grunted under his breath, and instead of replying to you, he moved past you to where a metal bathing tub, big enough to fit in the two of you, had already been set out, the water warm, and steam arising out of it. Geralt lowered his slacks, letting it fall to the floor as he stepped out of it, practically ignoring you. You could hear the sound of him wading into the water.
Sighing to yourself, you slowly lifted yourself off the edge of the bed, and turned to face the witcher, who was now seated against the tub, his arms holding the sides of the tub as he looked at you. Slowly, you let your tunic drop to the floor as you stepped out of it. It would have been a lie to say that you felt sexy, especially with your baloon belly that didn't let you look down at your feet. But you really needed that warm bath, to cure the soreness you were feeling.
Geralt threw out his palm towards you when he saw you step into the bathtub and you were thankful for it. He helped you get in and finally, you settled yourself in between the Witcher's legs, letting the back of your head rest against his sturdy chest, feeling the rise and the fall of it, "You're angry with me."
"Not with you. I'm just angry in general," Geralt retorted, and you couldn't help but roll your eyes at him.
"I'm not marrying Foltest. You should know that. Not after all that happened between us." You stared at the ceiling, while Geralt scooped some water into his palms and poured them on top of your head, trying to give you a head bath.
"When you said that, it got me thinking," Geralt suddenly began, as his fingers began to lather against your wet hair, his fingers rubbing through your scalp, making all the tension and the knots in your body melt away, but what words followed afterwards, only made the tension once again spiral back, "What happens once you give birth? Will you and the baby travel and be on the roads with a fucking Witcher? Who cannot settle in one place?"
"Geralt, where is all this coming from?" You turned to face him, letting your legs slide behind his body, with your baby bump now between you and his body forming a shield around it.
"Just got me thinking.. what kind of a life am I gonna be able to give you?"
Your fingers were now drawing intrinsic patterns over his chest, but your eyes were looking into his, trying to reach out to the man that hid beneath the facade of a cold, unemotional Witcher, "I don't care Geralt, all I know is that I want you."
"I want you too but I am thinking of your future." He said, stroking the side of your face with his wet thumb.
"I don't care if our love's forbidden, all I care about is that I want to be with you, I want us to raise our baby together," you slowly dropped your hand into the water, your hand finding his as you clasped your fingers with his and pulled out his hand. You brought it up to your baby bump, placing your hand tenderly over his. Geralt's breathing hitched, his huge palm draped protectively over your unborn baby and you smiled at him.
"I'm scared I will disappoint you. We Witchers weren't exactly meant to be domestic," He brought your palm up to his lips and planted a warm, chaste kiss on the inside of your palm, "I'm going to disappoint you and our baby. And you're going to hate me for the life I couldn't give you."
"No you won't. You underestimate yourself. You might be intimidating and cold on the exterior Geralt, but you—" Your smile widened, and Geralt popped his brow up, waiting for you to continue, "You are one big softie secretly."
"No, I'm not," he said, sounding fake serious.
"Oh yes, you are. You're a big bear," you playfully pulled your hand away from his, and splashed him with water. His eyes widened when the splash hit him, his lips pursing together.
"Geralt, I — I'm sorry."
"Oh, no love. This is war."
Geralt used his two hands to scoop as much water as he could and splashed you back and you let out a playful screech, "Geralt!"
"What? You called it. Come on now."
Geralt towered over the bathtub, the towel wrapped securely around his waist, covering his manhood, droplets of water rolling down his chest and his calves. He threw out a palm towards you and you whined; the water was too soothing for your exhausted body and you didn't want to get out. But there was no standing against the White Wolf. He slowly helped you up, making you stand, and carefully holding you by your waist so you didn't slip, as the pads of your feet were wet; he waited patiently for you to step out.
"Worried I'll catch a cold? I'm stronger that that." You drawled as you placed your hand into his.
Once you were out, he slowly turned you towards him to face him and wrapped a towel around your frame, using it to tap dry you all over.
"You pamper me, love," you smiled, letting your palm rest against your chest as he now worked to dry your hair.
"This is nothing compared to the happiness you are gifting me with."
You gave him a weak smile as you sat down by the edge of the bed, and slid into your comfortable slip, pulling it over your face and your neck, letting your eyes shut. After a few seconds, you opened your eyes, only to find the Witcher kneeling down between your legs, his eyes on your belly.
"You would never have been possible if it wasn't for your mother," Geralt whispered to your stomach in a tender way, momentarily glancing up into your eyes.
"Mhm, don't listen to the crap this man is feeding you with, Podrick."
"Not with that name again, [Y/N]." Geralt grumbled under his breath, but you could see a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. He let his forehead rest against your bump as he fluttered his eyes shut and inhaled your sweet fragrance, his hands holding you from your hips, "Besides, I have a feeling it's going to be a little girl, with eyes like her mother. She is going to take over on you. Not that I would have it any other way."
"Oh, Witcher, my Witcher ," You pulled him up to sit next to you as you leaned in to kiss him, and he slowly arched forward, his lips melting into yours as he mumbled between the kiss, "You might be a future Queen of Cintra, but you are my queen this day forward."
When you pulled apart, licking your lips, tasting the aftermath of Geralt's lips on you, you suddenly grabbed his wrists, and smiled cheekily, "let me do your braids, love."
"Go to sleep," he grumbled, moving away but you caught his hand again, giving him a sad pout, "Please?"
"Fine," he grumbled as he sat down on the floor in front of you, his back turned towards you, his elbows resting on his knees as he turned his gaze to the side, instead of turning to face you completely, "only this once." He turned back around, a small smile playing on his lips. Who was he kidding, he wanted you to braid his hair every single day. He fluttered his eyes shut, letting out an exhale as your fingers dug through his scalp, pulling his hair back.
Tumblr media
Geralt woke up rather abruptly.
He sat up in bed, squirming slightly but when he turned towards you, sleeping peacefully on your side, your arm protectively draped over your beautiful bump, his heart swelled twice the size it was. You looked so innocent, so pure and you were his.
Gently, he pried the covers off, sliding his feet to the edge until the pads of his feet were resting against the cold ground. He stood up, and grabbed his discarded clothes that were strewn all over the floor, sliding into his slacks before he pulled his crumpled tunic over his head.
He turned to look at your sleeping form once before he slowly walked out of the bedroom, ensuring to let the door close as quietly as possible.
He dragged himself downstairs. He was starving after the night, but all he needed was a pitcher of ale to set him up. The tavern was empty, except for one or two men who did not have a steady job, so they had found themselves drinking at the tavern. The usual rush came in the evening.
Holding his pitcher in his left hand, he made his way to a table in the back, that overlooked the window. He sat down, huddling in a corner, bringing the pitcher up to his lips, when someone slammed himself in the chair in front of him.
"Rough night?"
"Speak for yourself, Jaskier, " Geralt smirked, as he brought the pitcher to his lips, eyeing him.
"Why on earth do you think I am hiding in a corner like this?" Jaskier blinked, wiggling his brows.
"Jaskier, don't drag me into the messes you create," Geralt hummed, taking a sip of the ale.
"You look different. You have a glow. Now I am curious. Did [Y/N] give you a beauty treatment?" He said smugly, letting his elbows rest against the table as he grabbed a piece of meat and tossed it into his mouth.
When Geralt didn't reply, Jaskier arched his body even more forward, leaning almost close to Geralt and Geralt scowled.
"I see you let her braid your hair."
"Fuck off," Geralt murmured, tight-lipped. He would have said more, but something in the back caught his attention, and his jaw dropped. Jaskier, following Geralt's gaze, slowly turned towards the direction where Geralt was looking at and that's when he saw what he was staring at— it was you.
You were standing by the counter, in a long, flowy dress, a beautiful white flower fixed to your hair, talking to the owner of the tavern. You slowly looked up from whatever you were talking to the owner about, and as though you had felt his eyes on him, you looked right at Geralt, the corners of your lips tugging into a warm smile. Jaskier looked from you back to Geralt, noting the smile that had formed on his friend's lips as you made your way towards him.
"Morning, husband. What do we have in here for breakfast? Your baby is starving," you gave Jaskier a wink, and Jaskier's jaw dropped, as he spat out the ale that he was drinking, splashing it all over the table, coughing and hitting his chest as though something was lodged into his throat.
You and Geralt looked at each other, and Geralt sat back, patting on his thigh as you sat doen on his lap, and Geralt locked his arm around you. "What did you say?" Jaskier asked, standing up, his hands on his hips, "HUSBAND?! You're married now? What happened in that bedroom last night?"
"Words, words, words and confessions?" Geralt's arm held you steady on his lap and you turned towards him, your nose touching his as you bit your lip, "Well, the Butcher of Blaviken declared he wanted to live his action packed life with me."
Geralt grumbled under his breath; and you kissed the tip of his nose, biting it teasingly, "Now husband? Where's the food?"
Geralt smacked your thigh playfully, and you immediately stood up, before Geralt was up too, "On it, woman."
Tumblr media
A/N: okay for those who are wondering if they missed a chapter in between, wherein they got married then no you did not. I didn't write their wedding descriptively. They got married at the inn during the night, which I chose not to write because I had no freaking idea how to😂
The Vessel Taglist:
@kawennote09 @viking-raider @raspberrydreamclouds @pterodactylterrace @singeramg @historianwithaheart @miss-emilia-cavill @ayamenimthiriel @crazynocturnalkiki @xxxkatxo @coffeebreathy @fanaticnae @kmuir1 @little-jana @pineapplemama @auds24 @sassy-pelican @bitchynicole @cavillsim @ragamuffin285 @hista-girl @oliviali0930 @introvertedmouse @madbaddic7ed @libbymouse @nerra75 @maxineswritingcenter @superawesomegeek @waifu4lifeu @funalpaca @petitefirecracker10 @marantha @vikingsbifrost @petitefirecracker10 @jessyballet @strrynigxts @rn7rocks @theroyalbrownbarbie @amirra88 @naughty-koala07 @xuxszx
Want to be added to the list? Plz let me know via my ask box, inbox and comments. ✨
275 notes · View notes
house-of-playboys · 3 years
Text
PARK CHANYEOL: Birthday Suit
𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐒 𝐈𝐍𝐕𝐎𝐋𝐕𝐄𝐃:
↳ᴍᴏᴍᴍʏ ᴋɪɴᴋ
↳ғᴏᴏᴅᴘʟᴀʏ
↳ᴀɴᴀʟ sᴇx
↳ᴇᴅɢᴇᴘʟᴀʏ
↳ʙʀᴇᴀᴛʜᴘʟᴀʏ
↳ᴘᴏᴡᴇʀᴘʟᴀʏ
↳ᴏʀɢᴀsᴍ ᴅᴇɴɪᴀʟ
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Tumblr media
□ □ □ □ □ 0%
Chanyeol flitted around your shared apartment, mentally checking and rechecking everything he had planned. Cake - check. Bedroom decorations - done. Your presents? Yup, all on the table, perfectly wrapped (with Suho's help, of course! He couldn't afford his clumsy ass messing up at the last minute. He promises he did everything else on his own though!).
It's extremely hard to avoid biting his lip in anticipation of your arrival, not wanting to mess up his perfectly glossed lips, as he glances at the clock yet again. His pale cheeks flush every once in a while as his mind wanders through the material he's wearing underneath everything, contrasting well with the crisp black suit above.
Channie always thought he was a little too masculine to be the perfect submissive; too outrageously tall, too clumsy unlike his shorter, more feminine, more fragile hyung, Minseok. He always wonders how come you chose him amidst so many different better options like Baekhyun and Jimin and even fellow rapper Yoongi, who seemed to fit the image of a submissive quite well, but then he thinks of how physicality doesn't really matter in the bedroom, it's the way you carry yourself; it's all about aura, all about preferences rather than appearances. After all, you and his Minseok hyung were both great examples of that: Minseok hyung, who was dainty, fragile yet so dominant that there was no doubt about it once you saw his nature in the bedroom. His hyung and even you had reassured him numerous times that it didn't matter, yet he couldn't help but feel insecure sometimes.
He cleared those thoughts from his head. You were right: it didn't matter.
All that mattered, all he wanted was to be good for you. A good boy, just for you. Mommy's sweet little baby boy.
■ □ □ □ □ 20%
He wipes his clammy hands as he hears the doorbell chime, grabbing the bouquet of flowers he had gotten for you before opening the door. He's... in awe. It's like the breath has been knocked out from his lungs and you're the oxygen to make him breathe again. Does eyes wide, mouth unable to close from how slack his jaw is, he looks at you, standing there in front of him in all your stunning glory.
"Cat got your tongue, Channie?" You smirk slightly. Pastel pink pumps adorn your feet, black pantyhose contrasting them so sinfully. The high collared blossom pink dress shows barely any skin except for your bare arms and yet he's so enamoured, so entranced; he'd always been a captive to your beauty. And like Stockholm Syndrome, you're his salvation, his dream, the one he'd submit so wholly to. He manages to close his mouth, stuttering out a raspy "H-happy Birthday, Mommy." , hastily handing the flowers to you before stepping aside to let you enter.
Your mouth parts in surprise as you take in the effort he put in just for you. Red and white seems to be the theme for today as you drink in the sight of your apartment. When he had sent you to the spa for a day of relaxation, you had immediately picked up on his intentions but seeing all his efforts, the decorations, the somehow perfectly cooked food (probably Kyungsoo's doing) and a pile of gifts to the side (no doubt with Suho's assistance) just felt so special. Even though you knew he would surprise you, experiencing all of it was something entirely else.
■ ■ □ □ □ 40%
After dinner, and cake!, Yeol sweeps you to the bedroom, seating on the bed as he moves to get something out of the mini fridge. Once again, your bedroom is encased in red and white, rose petals on your bed and on the ground, bed sheets neatly made yet sure to be messy later given you two's liking towards making a mess.
He turns back to you, cheeks as pink as your outfit as he approaches you with a big bowl of chocolate ice-cream; your favourite of course. Your eyes dance with excitement as you understand his motives. "Strip, babyboy."
Handing you the bowl, he shimmies out of his suit, tie long forgotten from when you had your first makeout session of the evening.
Soon, he's half naked and kneeling in front of you, breathlessly asking you if he can keep his pants on for the time being. Quirking an eyebrow, you decide to be lenient, body charged with the curiosity of what's beneath. Curling your fingers around his pale neck, you press your lips against him, pulling him up and onto you as you kiss him, fervently, like a prayer. Flipping him over, you lean his body against the headboard, kissing him once more.
"Safeword, Yeollie?"
"Red."
"Such a good boy."
He preens under the praise as you scoop up the now melty ice-cream; you'd always fantasized about licking it up those abs. Smearing it over his abs, you gauge his reaction; the soft gasp followed by a whimper leaving his swollen lips leaves you even more aroused than before, your eyes darkening as his brows furrow, back already arching as a tiny tremor goes through his body. "Oh, mommy~"
Getting down, you lower yourself towards his abs, eyes locked on him the entire time. You give a tentative kitten lick to his ice-cream-coated abs, reveling in the way his brows knit together, head thrown back, arms wide apart clutching the sheets, his body writhing at your touch. And the best part? The way he moaned out your name: "Mommy! Oh- oh mommy- mommy, more please!" Like it was a mantra, he chanted your name as you laid your tongue flat on his abs, licking up all the melty ice-cream.
Everything is so damn messy, the ice-cream mixed with your saliva sticking to his abs as you pour it over his abs even more, the coolness of the temperature riling him up as much as it did you. And God, is it messy. It's just way too messy and you're loving every single bit of it. You and Loey had never been hygiene freaks in bed (baths were a must in aftercare though!), so it was all good.
Seeing him strain against his dress pants makes you coo. "Aww, is the little baby hard? Oh honey, Mummy will make it better in no time. Let's get this off, shall we?"
His eyes widen slightly, cheeks blushing a deep pink as he squeaks out your name. It's too late though- you've already unzipped his pants in one go, sliding them down from where he kicks them off his legs. He's almost bare now save for one item of clothing, and your eyes are so unwaveringly focused on it that poor Channie gets all nervous and embarrassed, thinking you don't like it.
But your thoughts are so vehemently opposite of what he's thinking, your mouth watering at the sight of those pastel pink panties with a soft floral print right in the middle of them; God, you want to use those panties on him in every him way possible: shoving them in his mouth, pegging him while he's still wearing them, ripping them apart and then fucking him, the possibilities are endless.
"Mommy, Channie's sorry." He pouts, making you snap out of your daze and look up at him incredulously, licking your lips.
"Why on earth are you sorry, sweetie? For making Mommy dripping wet? For making her want you even more? For making her want to claim you in front of everyone?" You crawl up his body to align yourself with his eyes, loving the way his heartbeat speeds up as your voice lowers to a whisper. "For making me want to use these panties over and over again on you in every damn way possible, hmm Loey?"
"Oh. Mommy approves?" His eyes are blown wide in realization.
"Oh honey, Mummy very much approves." You send a bone-chilling smirk his way. "Hands and knees now, babyboy. Present yourself to me. You're gonna be good for Mummy won't you?"
"Yes, yes Mommy!" He's quick to comply, getting into position as he's always done. He looks so breathtakingly beautiful like this, like the most delicate flower you ever saw, bare save for those panties that were dampening now, and fast.
You grope his ass, feeling how firm he is, how soft. No longer able to hold yourself back, you tear off the wrapping paper - or should you call it a ribbon? - of your beautiful present, eliciting a soft gasp from said present. Channie's hell bent on surprising you various ways today, because peeking out his hole is a glass bead. Not even a plug, but goddamn vibrating anal beads, because your darling really wants it tonight.
Chanyeol simply pushes his forehead further into the pillows.
"I was thinking of eating you 'til you're a whining, whimpering mess, but it seems like you've already prepared for that." You raise your eyebrows. "The remote, Yeol-ah?"
He chokes out a raspy "f-first-t draw-drawer", moaning loudly when the vibrations increase suddenly when you retrieve the device. His knuckles are so pale from clutching the sheets, face scrunched up in an expression that screams ecstasy, and you can't help but raise the vibrations even more, intently listening to the rise in his pitch as he tries to keep himself from rutting into the mattress, not wanting to upset you on your special day.
You're so fixated on him that you don't even realize how you've stopped in the middle of the room just to toy with the remote's controls and see him cry out in pleasure, completely enraptured with the way his body trembles, cooing out soft words of encouragement at his whines. It continues on for a while and then you hear him.
"M-m-mommy won't you touch me? I-I- ah! a-ah! I need you to- oh, need you to fuck me. Hard, Mommy." His doe eyes are glossed over with both tears and the familiar haze of subspace as he looks up at you, cheek pressed against the mattress, hips jerking every once in a while, hands clutching the sheets in such desperation that it makes you snap out of your hungry daze, moving forward while stripping bare.
And then you're flipping him over, sliding a condom over his weeping dick, lubing it up. You align him with your equally soaked cunt, and for a moment you simply brush him against you, feeling him throb against your clit (or was it the other way around? You couldn't tell) as you throw your head, brows knitting together as your eyes squeeze shut, ragged breaths escaping your lips. Yeol watches your chest heave and mewls out softly as your folds caress his tip like a warm embrace. It's been too long.
Then you're slamming you're hips down 'til they grind against his own, loud groans being heard from both of you. Your hips rise again as you lean your head down, hair falling in a curtain around your face as you mould your lips together. One hand holds his hips down as you bounce hard on him, the other snaking up his chest, making a pitstop to tease his nipples - and God, does he whine when you do that -, moving up until you curl it around his neck.
He moans uncontrollably against your lips, writhing more and more beneath you, so much that you have to smack your hand against his hip to keep him still. Tears spill down his soft cheeks as you tighten your grip slightly, squeezing rhythmically every time your walls clench around him. And he's so gone that he can't even do more than huff and puff and mumble incoherently. You angle your hips differently in search for that special spot, a strangled groan escaping your mouth when you finally find it, hips rising and lowering even quicker, wanting nothing more than for his tip to rub against it. You're getting closer, and so is he.
"Don't even think of coming before Mommy does, Yeollie." You gasp out, making him whine only to be quietened with a sharp smack to his thigh. You slow down, dragging out both your orgasms, and he sobs in frustration and pleasure. You continue to tease both of you, bouncing slower in deeper, more calculated strokes, a collective shudder passing through you two every time his condom clad tip rubs deliciously against your sweet spot. It's sin, nothing but pure sinful pleasure, and you want to bathe in the afterglow of it. Yeol continues to huff and puff, broken whimpers leaving his mouth, an occasional cry leaving his mouth when you squeeze his throat a little too pleasurably. It's like, like he's given himself up to you: fully, completely, undeniably yours - and nothing else but that.
The thought riles you up, and you ride him harder now, speed gradually increasing to the point where your hips ache and your core throbs. He's crying out in ecstasy as your core clenches around his stiff cock, nails raking down his chest, leaving angry red welts that he would admire all morning tomorrow. "That's it, Yeollie, scream louder, honey. There we go, that's such a good boy, my loveliest baby, Yeollie. You make Mummy feel so good, my darling, so loved."
"Yeollie feels loved too, Mommy!"
Theres goes your heart (if it was even alive at this point, considering how pretty he's been tonight).
"Mummy's gonna- ah, cum now, baby- ah! Such a good boy, aren't you, honey? So good, so good, so precious. And all mine. Mine, and only mine."
You're panting, voice breathless from how perfectly he fits around you, how perfectly he rubs that spot. You reach down to rub your outer folds, breathlessly hissing out his name as you shudder, cumming over his cock.
He throws his head back, eyes squeezing shut as you clench around him, a whimper escaping his mouth. "Mommy, please? Let baby cum, please?"
His watery doe eyes make you soften, cooing at how pliant he is, how obedient and patient. The perfect little boy for you.
"Cum, Yeollie."
You swallow his deep moans with a kiss, teasingly squeezing his throat one last time.
■ ■ ■ ■ □ 90%
Aftercare with your babyboy is always so damn soft. Like, it's just so soft, there're no other words to describe it. You clean him up first because, well, baby deserves it. And then after you've cleaned yourself as well, you limp to the kitchen, while reveling in the pain because yes, get some comfort food and cuddle with your lovely boyfriend on the bed. You feed both of you guys because Channie just turns to soft, mushy, light-headed goo after sex and he can only pout and rasp out soft "Mommyyy"s, not that you mind babying your lovely baby; Channie deserves the world, after all.
"Mommy, Channie's sorry for not being there to wish you on your big day." He pouts, yet you're quick to reassure him, heart sinking to see him still apologetic like this.
"Honey, no. You were on tour, and Mommy understands. Besides, Yeollie made Mommy's day so special, you know? Do you know how happy you make me, baby? How happy you made Mommy feel today?"
"...weally?" You coo so hard at that.
"Mhmmm. Loey's my bestest boy ever. Mommy's lovely little babyboy." He beams adorably at that, and your chest swells with happiness and warmth and pride.
Being a male submissive, and especially one who would willingly bottom to a woman doesn't come with acceptance, especially when he's a tall hunk who, according to society, should be a smouldering alpha male. He could have left you, and even now, he has a hard time loving himself for who he is, but you're there, you'll always be there- and it means the world to him.
So you love him, with every fibre of your being, and he reciprocates it with his all, because you two have been through a lot since you first met; you've shared the same rejection, targeted with the same hate, and now you both just don't care nor do you want to care. You just want to love and be loved. And so you do just that, feeding him some fruit, running your hands through his tousled locks, telling him how good he's been, how lucky you are to have him, how much you love him.
And when he smiles, it's like nothing else matters. Just this smile. Just this moment. Just him, just you two, and nothing else. Because he looks so beautiful, so breathtakingly beautiful that you could gaze fondly at him 'til the end of time.
And he's worth it.
                            ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ 100%
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
𝑭𝒐𝒓 𝒁𝒐𝒆♡
35 notes · View notes
Note
💜💜🌻💜💜🌻💜💜
Thank you so much 💜 my day was stressful and mentally taxing but overall it was fine :) i am so so flattered/flustered that you want to gift me something in return- i never expect anything when i'm penguin anon. And irl i'm trying to be better at accepting things from people. so if you really would like to gift me something here are some tropes i like: cas gardening (sorry i can't get away from flowers/plants!), dadstiel with baby or toddler jack, general domestic fluff, anything that explores cas & dean healing/character growth 💜 but i honestly don't expect anything in return for my hearts and flowers. They are freely given 💜💜🌻💜💜🌻💜💜
-🐧🌻
I’m sorry to hear it was stressful for you, dear. I’m glad that overall it wasn’t too bad for you, though. I hope this cheers you up? I’m a few hours later with it because I get distracted big time in research. Like figuring out that Dean was 22 when Shrek came out. Which had literally no bearing on this, but was fun to figure out. The hearts and flowers are more than appreciated. 💕🌺🌺💕
🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻
When Dean was four, he watched his mother hold his baby brother to the blooming sunflowers she kept in the backyard. Mom said they were called Sunriches. They were named that because they were like golden suns. Dean thought the sun was golden, but when he tried looking at it, the sun was just a bright, white color. Blinding. Dad said he couldn’t look at the sun without hurting himself, so he stopped trying.
What he could look at was Mom holding Sammy. He was only a couple of months old, but Mom was excitedly talking to him as if he could talk back. Dad said he wouldn’t be able to talk for a while. That didn’t seem to bother Mom. She was content to describe the flowers to Sammy. They were taller than Dean was. Mom said they wouldn’t get any bigger, but one day Dean would be tall enough to hold Sammy up to the flower petals. He looked forward to that.
Mom looked pretty in her dress, from Dean’s memory of the time. Her skirt swayed in the autumn wind in time with the petals dancing in the breeze. It was ethereal, like a princess talking to animals. Except instead of a squirrel on her shoulder there was a baby in her arms. Dean thought it looked like magic.
A few months later, when Dean was finally trusted with holding Sammy in his arms, he was running out of his burning home.
He didn’t think about the sunflowers they left behind.
Read more undercut or check it out on AO3!
Later in life, when Dean was flirting too close to a stable relationship with a reporter, he idly thumbed at the petals of the Suntastic Yellows. He remembered his mom telling him that they were the tiniest sunflowers. The type they used in bouquets. Cassie had a small pot resting on her windowsill.
Cassie’s hands drew around his waist from behind him. Humming into his neck, Cassie drew him backward with her. He thought about it in an absent sense, walking away from the sunflowers.
“You know,” she whispered against the shell of his ear, “they say that sunflowers track the sun all throughout the day.”
“Oh, really?” Dean smirked, taking her lips in his own. She was wonderful, really. Too wonderful. Wonderful enough that Dean thought about confessing everything to her. Cassie would understand. She was clever and understanding. Hell, maybe she’d even accept him.
It was too bad, then, that when Dean told her what he did—what he was—that she didn’t believe him. Dean wouldn’t have believed himself either. Walking away with his keys in his hand and his heart at his feet, Dean wondered if this is what it would always feel like. If he would always have to walk away from the place his heart was trying to make into a home. Maybe it was something about being a sunflower. Always tracking the sun throughout the day.
Too bad Dean couldn’t find the damn sunlight.
“Dude, look!” Dean grinned during another part of his life, pointing at some old lady’s front garden full of Taiyos. “It’s like Shrek.” He teased his brother, elbowing Sam who only rolled his eyes in return.
“Shrek? Really?” Sam scoffed. “How old were you when that even happened?”
Dean huffed a laugh. “What? You’re telling me you didn’t go watch the cinematic masterpiece known as Shrek with all of your college buddies?”
Sam rolled his eyes again, huffing with a shrug of his shoulders. “Sure, Dean. And then we watched Holiday in the Sun right after, too.”
“Never took you for a Mary-Kate and Ashley fan, Sammy.” Dean grinned, watching the sunflowers swaying in the breeze from the corner of his eye.
They looked peaceful in the witness’ front yard. Untouched by the grueling werewolf that was lurking through the small town. Dean could hear Sam’s sharp inhale from beside him.
“I always thought sunflowers were… homey,” Sam confessed, watching the sunflowers dance with a furrowed brow.
Shooting Sam a crooked grin, Dean stepped forward toward the sunflowers but he didn’t dare touch them. “I’m not surprised,” he began. “Mom used to grow them. She started taking you out into the garden as soon as you stopped crying all the time.”
Sam was silent for a moment, causing Dean to look at him with concern. It wasn’t often that Sam was quiet, but when he was it was always a contemplative silence. “I didn’t know that.” He spoke softly.
“You wouldn’t have remembered.” Dean shrugged, stepping onto the witness’ walkway to begin making their way up to the door. “These are a bit taller than hers were. But then again, everything seemed taller then.”
There was another moment of contemplative silence, but it seemed Sam had nothing left to say. He knocked on the witness’ door, taking care not to meet Dean’s eye. Dean wondered what that meant. Wondered if Sam felt the same way when he saw sunflowers.
Then again, Sam had always been larger than life. Tall and proud.
When Dean was on the aching side of forty, he watched Castiel hold their four-year-old son to the blooming sunflowers he kept in the backyard. Cas had been enchanted by the Little Beckas when he had seen them. While they might not have been the tallest—or the smallest—of sunflowers, he had thought they were lovely. Dean had made a quip about their halo and bought Cas seeds the same day.
Watching Cas and Jack reminded Dean of being four and trying to see what color the sun was. It was blinding, something he felt he should look away from lest it hurt him. But he found that he couldn’t look away. He didn’t want to. He just wanted to watch Cas answer every question Jack had.
He was beautiful, Dean often thought, but especially in moments like these. The cuffs of his jeans were muddied and his bare feet were buried in the soil where he sat with Jack in his lap. Dean hated how Cas refused to wear shoes outside, but he had claimed to like being closer to the Earth. Dean couldn’t argue with him. He wouldn’t argue with him; not for what made him happy.
Cas turned to look at him, catching his gaze and drawing him closer with just a look. Dean moved without hesitation, standing beside Cas and kicking at his knee with his booted foot. His approach drew Jack’s attention away from the flowers, who clapped excitedly the closer he got.
“Whaddya think, Jack? Do you like the colors?” Dean hummed, watching Jack’s gummy smile as the kid waved up at him.
“Daddy says that sunflowers face East!” He pointed enthusiastically, laughing and reaching for the blooms in front of him.
Dean frowned, looking from Cas to the flowers. “I thought sunflowers rotated with the sun or whatever.”
Cas hummed, tilting his head with a nod. “They do, in their youth.” He pressed a kiss to the top of Jack’s head. “But when they mature, the sunflowers learn that they get the most light during the morning hours when the sun has just risen from the East.” Bouncing Jack momentarily and causing the boy to giggle, Cas turned to face Dean. “They just learn what’s healthiest for them. It just takes time.”
Inhaling sharply, Dean wondered if this was it. If this was his East. Watching a smiling Jack and Cas whispering about sunflowers that—while not the tallest or the smallest—were a halo of colors. Two colors that came together, that never faded, that bloomed to life in this tiny garden he called home. He was a dark heart and a bright halo, smiling toward the bright, white sunlight of a gummy smile and clapping hands.
With a grunt, Dean lowered himself to the soil, sitting beside Cas and wrapping his arm around Cas’ shoulder. “These little guys are pollen-less,” he spoke to Jack. “That’s why we got the honeysuckles.”
“Honeysuckles stand for devotion.” Cas’ voice rumbled gently. “In the ancient Celtic alphabet, the symbol that the Ogham carved into stone to represent the honeysuckle stood for following one’s path.”
Dean snorted a laugh, shaking his head. “Sort of counterintuitive. Since, yanno, Free Will.” He quipped, raising a curious brow toward Cas.
Bowing his head in concession, Cas continued. “Yes, that is true. The Druids meant it more like… trusting one’s gut. Rather than sticking to the story.” He grinned, rocking with Jack in his arms for a moment. “But the honeysuckle is rather hard to kill. That is why it means everlasting devotion.”
“Deaths don’t stick, huh?” Dean hummed, squeezing Cas closer into his side. “Sounds like someone I know.”
Cas exhaled a laugh, resting his head atop Jack’s. “The Chinese valued the honeysuckle for its healing properties. It can be a cooling herb to remove toxins.”
Dean pressed a kiss to Cas’ cheek, keeping his lips there for a moment longer before pulling away. “Even if the honeysuckle can’t heal ‘em, the sunflowers like the company anyway.” He smiled softly, watching as Cas’ eyes turned dewy toward him. “And ‘sides, the honeysuckle brings all the bees to the yard.”
Snorting laughter that Jack joined in without knowing the cause, Cas shook his head. “I suppose so.” His attempt to suppress a smile made Dean’s own grin widen. “But the sunflower is more than enough company.”
“Damn straight,” Dean whispered against Cas’ lips, kissing him slowly and savoring the moment.
Between them, Jack made exaggerated kissy faces, causing them to pull apart and watch him with amusement. He grinned, reaching up and holding Dean and Cas’ cheeks in his palms.
“Daddy and Poppa sittin’ in a tree!” Jack sang, giggling as he smushed their heads together.
Mocking a frown, Dean held his other hand out behind Jack’s back. His palm felt so large in comparison to how small Jack was. “Did Uncle Sam teach you that?”
“Yup!” Jack nodded enthusiastically, head bobbing as he continued to hum the song under his breath.
Cas gave another chuckle under his breath, looking from Jack to Dean. “I suppose we should head inside. We're still expecting Sam and Eileen for lunch.”
Dean stood with a groan as his knees ached. He reached out a hand to help Cas and Jack up, standing tall with his family in their little garden. Keeping their fingers intertwined, Dean didn’t have to think about the sunflowers they left behind.
They would be there as long as the sun was in the East.
15 notes · View notes
veenussposts · 4 years
Text
Mingi as a demigod (and your boyfriend)
Tumblr media
Mingi was always a lazy person who found it difficult to be punctual and maintain an orderly lifestyle. However, he always did things well even if he had no idea what he was doing.
And things didn't change when he arrived at Camp Half-Blood, after trying to be killed by a minotaur as he walked back home.
After being claimed by his father, the God of war, Mingi continued with his same attitude as always and, unintentionally, quickly climbed into the hierarchy of his cabin. He was just good at fighting, he was honestly the best, even though he never had any training in the art of war.
He only had fun with Apollo's sons and daughters and yet no one was able to beat him in a battle. The laurel crown was his over a year ago and no one could take it away from him.
But everything changed when you arrived.
"Who is he?" Mingi asked one of his sisters who was observing all the commotion that was forming in the camp due to the arrival of a squad commanded by you.
"He is a roman demigod, one of the leaders of Camp Jupiter, the only child of Bellona the goddess of war, destruction and devastation"
"Uff, it's a very long and intimidating name for a boy. I bet he's not that good"
With determined and somewhat haughty steps, Mingi came towards you with his chin up to ask you to a duel. The warriors under your command looked at each others scared when they heard Mingi challenging you. What did you do? You laughed at him and then completely ignored him.
Or at least that's what Mingi believed because even though it didn't seem like it, you really paid attention to him. At a glance you realized that, after being rejected, that son of Ares made vibrate some swords while walking back to his cabin.
You had a slight suspicion of why that happened but there was only one way to check it.
It was a normal day after a chat with the director of the Greek camp, you were on the banks of the great lake meditating when you felt a familiar sensation in your stomach. Someone was watching you. With a single movement, you unsheathed your sword and threw it towards where your instincts told you.
"If this were a real fight you would already be dead" Your sword was pointed at his forehead as it floated in midair. With a single wave of your hand, your sword turned towards you and came back to its place.
"What... Ho-how did you do that? You... how did you manage to stop it before... and..."
"I didn't stop it, you did" Mingi's eyes widened, looking at you in surprise. "The weapons obey you, they will do whatever you tell them to do. You can even fight with them even if you don't have them in your hands"
"But my brothers cannot do that"
"That is because only a few are blessed with the gifts of their parents. Some children of Apollo can heal, others cannot. They are gifts that have to be used and I am willing to help you, son of Ares, even if it goes against my principles as a descendant of a Roman Goddess "
And that was how Mingi, dumbfounded by the way your tan skin shone in the sun's rays, agreed to train with you.
Things were going well, too well. Mingi was more powerful than you imagined and could follow your strict training without problems.
As the days passed, your stomach felt strange sensations and it wasn't your sixth sense. It was something else.
"Am I in love with a Greek demigod? Oh my Jupiter"
On the other hand, Mingi was totally in love with you. Every cell in his body went into ecstasy every morning when he saw you, he seemed to be flying through the clouds every time he saw you smile and the mere fact of listening to your compliments when he did something right blushed his cheeks.
"He is very cute"
"I think you are the only person in the world who thinks that he is cute. Brother, every time I look at him I feel like a deer being analyzed by its predator. He's scary"
"Yeah, that's one of his many charms. Ahh, he's magnificent"
Tumblr media
Your swords collided, they withdrew and returned to find ways to outdo each other and catch up with their opponent. A slight whistle accompanied the movement of both, indicating the speed of your movements and your location.
"I'm sorry to inform you that this fight will be won by me" Mingi said as his eyes closely followed you.
"Don't sing victory yet, redhead"
Your swords collided again and both of you continued to dance across the training ground in a fight that never seemed likely to end because neither was ready to lose.
You, who at the time were leading the initiative, attacked while Mingi defended himself. He leaped back, accurately moved his hand, and one of his two swords, which he had previously lost in a counterattack against you, shot out at top speed. You barely had enough time to turn around and dodge the attack, consequently your opponent's weapon cut a piece of your purple cloak that was part of your armor.
"Well if this was a real fight you would already be dead" The cold metal of his weapon was leaning against your neck while a silly little smile was drawn on his lips as you stood up slowly. "Can I sing victory now?"
"I don't think so" The smile on his face faded when he saw out of the corner of his eye your great sword, pointed at him in midair. "I think you are dead"
"Yeah, but dead of love for you"
Your eyes widened like saucers and Mingi's hand that didn't hold the sword opened, letting it drop to the ground. His cheeks started to turn deep red like his hair as he tried to look anywhere but you.
Hell, he had screwed up. Surely you were going to reject him, surely you would laugh at...
"In that case... I guess I'm dead too" Before Mingi could understand your answer, your strong arms were around his waist, drawing him towards you. You were so close that you could smell the sweet scent of his cologne, your noses were rubbing against each other and your lips were only a few millimeters apart. "I... I also like you, too much for my liking but I couldn't help it"
Mingi leaned his head forward and kissed you, softly at first, and then with immense passion causing you to cling to him as if there was no tomorrow. His lips were caressing your trembling lips, sending shocks of electricity along your back, causing emotions that you had never thought you were capable of feeling.
Tumblr media
Mingi almost went crazy when you confessed with a blush on your cheeks that he was your first boyfriend. For that reason, you weren't quite sure how to act in certain situations.
Despite being stoic, strict and not very good with words, Mingi knew that you loved him because your actions showed it. For example: the time you were training and it started to rain, without thinking twice you took off your cape to cover Mingi so he wouldn't catch a cold.
HE LOVES PLAYING WITH YOUR LONG HAIR. He could be brushing, stroking, or just playing with it all day.
"Just relax, I'll wash your hair for you"
He is capable of sending a sword flying to anyone who dares to speak ill of you.
"I'd fight the whole world for you and I don't care how cheesy that sounds"
Mingi says and does things on purpose to embarrass you for his own amusement such as calling you by cute nicknames in front of your legion or dancing while he was wearing your golden armor.
You haven't tell the others about your relationship but all the demigods in both camps know that your are a couple.
Gets giggle because of your existence and blushes when you kiss him.
The biggest cuddle bear ever.
When you had to leave Camp Half-Blood to return to Camp Jupiter Mingi did his best to keep you from leaving but, unfortunately, it was your duty and you had to leave. The first night without you he cried because he missed you.
Now, Mingi is only in Camp Half-Blood the summers, the rest of the days he lives in Camp Jupiter with you.
He sleeps on your chest because he says your skin is very soft and warm, he feels calm and protected in your arms.
"You're ridiculously comfortable"
His cellphone password is the date of your birthday and as a wallpaper he has a photo of you smiling after the daughters of Venus combed your hair in a large braid decorated with flowers.
Every summer at Camp Half-Blood, Mingi tells the new demigods how magnificent his boyfriend is, telling them that he is the most powerful person ever born, that perhaps you were the reincarnation of a hero like Hercules. Sometimes just to bother you, he tells you to go to the camp to sign autographs because everyone admires you but not as much as he does.
Worries about your safety 24/7.
"Zeus, I was very worried"
"It was just a reconnaissance mission, baby. There's nothing to worry about"
You never fight, you have a healthy and prosperous relationship, but sometimes when you have had a stressful day you ignore each other unintentionally.
In conclusion, just being with Mingi makes you happy. That redhead, son of Ares, has completely changed your life in a wonderful, magnificent and extraordinary way.
187 notes · View notes
lyllyan-weiss · 4 years
Text
LONG Character Survey: Lyllyan Weiss
Tumblr media Tumblr media
BASICS.
FULL NAME: Lyllyan Aster Weiss
NICKNAME: Lyl, Lily, Lil' Lily.
AGE: 21
BIRTHDAY: 11th Sun of the 6th Astral Moon (November 10th)
ETHNIC GROUP: Auri|Xaela (In Eorzea)/ Human (Out of World)
NATIONALITY: Eorzean (In Eorzea)/American (Out of World)
LANGUAGES: Eorzean, Draconic, basically anything due to the echo.
SEXUAL ORIENTATION: She is Bi. Swings both ways. She loves all.
ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: Biromantic
RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Depending on the different routes on the story, she will be either single or taken.
CLASS: Jack-of-all-trades
•Knows everything and knows how to play everything.
• Favors caster classes above everything else.
HOMETOWN / AREA: N/A
CURRENT HOMETOWN / AREA: Shirogane is where her apartment is, but she sees Ishgard as her home that she spends her time in, and then the Crystarium had became home to her as well.
PROFESSION: Scion, Adventurer, Full time hero in both her world and Eorzea. In her world she is a waitress and an artist/animator.
PHYSICAL.
HAIR: Right now it is Brown with Light brown Highlights
EYES: Purple (Right), Green (Left)
NOSE: Small and Sharp
LIPS: Small and full
COMPLEXION: Pale but fair.
BLEMISHES: None.
SCARS: In Eorzea, her scars are battle scars that is more aligned on her back. They do not show up when she is in her world.
TATOOS: The Scion Tatoo on the part where the neck and back meet.
HEIGHT: 5'0
WEIGHT: 130lb (Eorzea)/ 150lb (Her World)
BUILD: Short, Thin and fit.
FEATURES: None really.
ALLERGIES: Rolanberries in Eorzea, Strawberries in her world.
USUAL HAIRSTYLE: Long hair with a half braid in the back in Eorzea. In her world she has short hair that stops in the middle of her neck.
USUAL FACE LOOK: Warm color Eye shadow applied lightly to the eyes and a very nude color for lipstick in Eorzea. In her world, she hardly puts make up on, but usually has dark circles due to being tired all the time.
USUAL CLOTHING: Depending on her mood, she'll go very modest, or wearing a bikini with thigh boots. In her world, she is always modest with usually a t-shirt and sweats.
PSYCHOLOGY.
FEARS: Bugs (Mainly Arachnids, spiders are the worst.) Antilions that hide in the sands. Losing her love ones. Becoming Sin Eater. Being alone. Falling.
ASPIRATIONS: Explore all of the worlds she could go to, but also to make animations that can change the world.
POSITIVE TRAITS: Stubborn, happy go lucky, Compassionate, tries to take care of everyone, protective, loving, friendly, trusting.
NEGATIVE TRAITS: Stubborn enough to push past her limits, usually getting her hurt. She so selfless that she tends to forget about taking care of herself. She can be too trusting of others that she often gets hurt in the end. She usually bottles her problems with the worry of being a burden to others. Very emotional driven (Just ask Ser Zephirin).
ZODIAC: Scorpio.
TEMPERAMENT: Artistic and Motherly
SOUL TYPE(S): The Priest, The Artisan, The Server.
ANIMALS: Cat
VICE HABIT(S): From the definition that I read, her faults are that she feels like anything bad that happens to her or her friends are her fault, and that she sometimes Envy others. But her hobbies that she enjoys are reading, triple triad, drawing, and writing.
FAITH: The Twelve. Even in her world she believes in the Twelve.
GHOSTS?: Definitely
AFTERLIFE?: I hope there is one.
REINCARNATION?: Well so far that we know, reincarnation is a thing, right?
ALIENS?: I doubt the world was made for one type of civilization, plus multiple worlds. Yes.
POLITICAL ALIGNMENT: Uh...Alphinaud does politics for me.
ECONOMIC PREFERENCE: Just trying to survive, man. Stable, I guess.
SOCIO POLITICAL POSITION: Uh... Alphinaud???
EDUCATION LEVEL: Lyllyan herself has had up to some college in her own world. In Eorzea, she has an understanding of Aether and well has learned all the classes, so being able to pick up something new, she can learn fairly quick.
FAMILY.
FATHER: Captain Carebear (Mykel Weiss)
MOTHER: She doesn't have the ability to go to Eorzea so her name is Lynn Weiss.
Siblings: Lucas Weiss(Rafien Dalarain(Deactivated)), Nathaniel Weiss(Random Guy (deactivated)), Olivia Weiss (Never been to Eorzea).
EXTENDED FAMILY: Grandmother(Nana)(Deceased), Granfather(Poppy), Fortemps Family (Rest in Peace Haucherfaunt).
NAME MEANING(S): Lyllyan is based off of the Lily flower. Aster is based off of the Aster flower, and then Weiss is a name given to those with white hair or pale complexion.
HISTORICAL CONNECTION: Um...Ascian? Amourotine?
FAVORITES.
BOOK: If its Manga, It's Rurouni Kenshin. Books would be the 'Septimus Heap' series by Angie Sage.
MOVIE/PLAY: Movie would be 'Wizard of Oz'. Favorite Play would be 'Hamilton'.
5 SONGS:
•'Seasonal Feathers' by Len and Rin Kagamine
•'Drakkar' by Distrion and Electro-Light
•'Light it Up' by Robin Hustin and TobiMorrow (feat. Jex)
•'Stitches' by Shawn Mendes
•'Perfect' by Ed Sheeran
DEITY: Thaliak
HOLIDAY: Valentione
MONTH: November/ 6th Astral Moon
SEASON: Spring
PLACE: Rak'Tika Greatwoods
WEATHER: Rain
SOUND: Ocean waves.
SCENT(S): Cherry Blossom, sweet.
TASTE(S): Favorite food is Bacon so....also likes sweet things.
FEEL(S): Fuzzy blankets, warm cloth, soft.
ANIMALS: She loves all animals! If she had to narrow it down, it would be Cats, Pandas, and Chocobos. Does Pokemon count?
NUMBER: 8 but screw Construct 8
COLORS: Purple, light green, light blue.
EXTRA.
TALENTS: Drawing.
BAD AT: Math. She used to bring her homework to Eorzea to have Alphinaud and Urianger help her.
TURN ONS: Oooo. Funny, kind, calm, generous, but also romantic.
TURN OFFS: Selfish, rude ass hoe, and killing my friends.
HOBBIES: Singing, Drawing, Reading, Exploring, Triple Triad.
TROPES: Mother Hen.
AESTHETIC TAGS: Chocolate and Caramel. Honey. Lavender and Leaves. I think that's how this works???
FC INFO.
MAIN FC(S): Scions of the Dawn. It consist of Dad and myself.
ALT FC(S): None.
OLDER FC(S): We did have an FC on Gilgamesh called Lionheart with the Tag FF8. It was one that we had started the game when we got out of beta, but moved to different server/data center.
YOUNGER FC(S): *Confused Au Ra noises*
VOICE CLAIM(S): ??????
GENDERBENT FC(S): *Even more confused Au Ra noises*
MUN QUESTIONS.
Q1: IF YOU COULD WRITE YOUR CHARACTER YOUR WAY IN THEIR OWN MOVIE, WHAT WOULD IT BE CALLED, WHAT STYLE WOULD IT BE FILMED IN, AND WHAT WOULD IT BE ABOUT?
•So, I'm already making a comic that I want to make as an animation for the story of FFXIV with my character and her friends. This character was specifically built for FFXIV, but it has a twist. Kinda like a Sword Art Online ordeal, but instead of Millions of people playing are stuck in the world, it's just like 100, but they aren't stuck, in fact they are just chosen to go between their world and Eorzea. If they die, they don't actually die, but respawn, even in their own world, but they feel how they die and the only way for them to die in any shape or form is by natural cause like old age or sickness. This would be a 2D animation in the anime style and be a multi episode series with multiple seasons. I even though about branching out to go certain routes so that Lyllyan can end up with all my favorite characters. I would call it Final Fantasy XIV: A World Reborn.
Q2: WHAT WOULD THEIR SOUNDTRACK/SCORE SOUND LIKE?
•With it being a Final Fantasy story, it would have Final Fantasy Music.
Q3: WHY DID YOU START WRITING THIS CHARACTER?
•Lyllyan Weiss was made to represent me and she still does, but also inspires me to be more like my courageous heroic self. Because of this, I have been able to do things like crossing a bridge that's in bad shape to get to the other side without the fear of falling, just to get back to my mom who went to the other side on a trip we had.
Q4: WHAT FIRST ATTRACTED YOU TO THIS CHARACTER?
•She is literally me.
Q5: DESCRIBE THE BIGGEST THING YOU DISLIKE ABOUT YOUR MUSE.
•Just like me, she is stubborn and hard working, but there are times she pushes herself way too much. She hesitates to ask for help, not because she doesn't trust the people around her, but more of trying to not burden them. Others wish she would open up to them and also rest when she can. Raha has to literally force her to rest, and she nearly gets herself killed against the first battle with Rahjit because she kept getting back up to fight even when the others beg her to stop.
Q6: WHAT DO YOU HAVE IN COMMON WITH YOUR MUSE?
•Almost everything. Major thing is that she doesn't look like me, but also I know when to quit.
Q7: HOW DOES YOUR MUSE FEEL ABOUT YOU?
• I feel like if Lyllyan and I were to meet in person, we'd get along just fine. We would play video games all day long if we could.
Q8: WHAT CHARACTERS DOES YOUR MUSE HAVE INTERESTING INTERACTIONS WITH?
•OH BOI HERE WE GOOO
- Leveilleur Twins: Alphinaud and Alisaie are very close to Lyllyan. Alphinaud used to pull Lyllyan out of class to have her hurry up and go through the story, now its chill and play ace attorney. Alphinaud, depending on what route is taken, is definitely in love with Lyllyan and is constantly teased about it by everyone. Alisaie is like a sister to Lyllyan. They have had many nights where the pulled 24 hours playing Sims. Alisaie is who Lyllyan tries to protect the most between the two. She's also the reason why Lyllyan is now Bi. Lyllyan absolutely adores her and if the route is taken, they end up being the cutest couple.
-Leon D'hart: An Alt character that I made that depending on the story and route, he is also Lyllyan's Lover. He is a character made by Square Enix to be the Warrior of Light replacement if Lyllyan did not succeed in preventing herself becoming a light warden. His story with her is a bunch of trial and tribulations, but in the end they do end up married.
-G'raha Tia/Crystal Exarch: The main story Lyllyan's Lover. Great friend to start out and tears were shed when he sealed himself into the tower. He really kept Lyllyan guessing when he was Exarch. When Emet-Selch kidnapped him, Lyllyan was hellbent on getting him back. Now she visits him at the first everyday bring stuff from Eorzea for him, and even occasionally stuff from her world. He is her world as she is to him.
-The Scions: Thancred and Lyllyan are like Big brother, Little sister. He protects her, and scolds her as such. They may act like they hate each other, but the moment either gets hurt, the other is at their sides. Though rumor has it that Thancred had feelings for Lyllyan. Y'shtola is close to Lyllyan, but is usually not around often. Shtola usually is often around to keep an eye on Lyllyan's aether since her amount is quite high compared to the others and her fellow Warriors of Light. Urianger is someone who used to hardly talk to Lyllyan, but started opening up more after the years. He had watched her grow from 15 moons to now 21 as the others, but they seem to be more special to him. Lyllyan swore to protect him if anything ever happened especially after he asked her her thoughts on his new attire. Tataru is a precious angel and if anyone was to hurt her, Lyllyan would kill everyone and then herself. Ryne, even though she is not a scion, she is a scion. Ryne worries about Lyllyan, but is often in awe of her. Lyllyan and Thancred adopted her, and she's ended up calling Lyllyan mom on many occasions.
-Ser Aymeric: Depending on the route, he would be Lyllyan's Lover and he tries to protect her when he can, be it politics or in war. He has a dream to journey with her, and though he can't do so with Lylyan Weiss the Au Ra, there is nothing saying he can't make a character and become a Warrior of Light himself and travel with Sakura Yue(Lyllyan's Alt).
-Zenos Yae Galvus: So this guy commits Seppuku and then shows up at Lyllyan's job as her new Bartender. They end up becoming friends through the job, and the fact that Zenos is bored out of his mind that he can't go kill people,but finding out later that he is back makes Square Enix themselves worried about this guy.
-Estinien: Lyllyan had adopted him as her Edgy Son. He hates it. He reminds her that he is older than him, and she retorts about beating him as a Lalafel. He usually starts brooding after that on a high building that usually takes Alphinaud and Ser Aymeric to get him down.
•I'm only stopping this cause there are so many more characters!!!
Q9:WHAT GIVES YOU INSPIRATION TO WRITE YOUR MUSE?
•Music and Playing Final Fantasy. Mainly XIV, but others do count too, but also reading all the other fanfiction and comics about final fantasy XIV.
Q10: HOW LONG DID THIS TAKE YOU TO COMPLETE?
About...4 hours? Maybe more? My hands definitely hurt from all the typing! XD
============
Tagged by @amandafullmetal
Tagging @ladyramora @ranier-layarte @scholarlostintime @fabledtactician
9 notes · View notes
avidfanficwriter · 7 years
Text
I don't.
Tumblr media
Chris pine x reader
Rated: m?
Summary: Many years ago you and Chris were in a relationship prior to him becoming the great Chris Pine, the household name that everyone knew. Sadly, as most couples fall victim; it fell apart but recently in an interview, Chris is asked of surprising information that brings his past back to the future. 
                       Chapter 1: Gossip Vs. Reality. 
2002
You and  Chris Pine have been at the “Lakeside Bar” for a little over an hour originally there to celebrate your new job however it quickly turned into drinking more than either planned on. You watched Chris’ eyes turn a shade darker with every ounce of alcohol he poured down his throat, loved the way his voice grew raspy as he spoke to you. He extended his arm on the small table you two sat at and played with you shirt. 
 He was inebriated, shit faced in other terms. This beautiful man was slowly loosing his gentleman like appearance and falling victim to the alcohol. He was spewing nonsense, making sexual advances; rubbing your thigh, making excuses to kiss you. He was a twenty-two year old man who was acting like a sixteen year old getting drunk for the first time. 
“I love you.” Chris says before swigging another shot, feeling the burning liquid slide down his throat. “Oh god.”
“You’re drunk, Christopher.” You say, matching his slur.
“Not drunk enough to know the truth.” He moves closer to you, snaking his hand around your waist pulling your body closer to his. “I really do love you.”
You blink slowly at him, your eyes threatening any moment to see black. “I love you.” Chris kisses you, his lips attacking you with such passion. There was a blur, lips attacking one another; hands filling up the others body until the tease could no longer be prolonged. The night continued, hitting a few more bars and later winding up in Chris’ one bedroom apartment creating a mess of clothes and furniture. 
2016
Chris sits in his small dressing room, the familiar scent of flowers fill his nose from the small vase of daisy’s sitting on the counter near him, his head is buried inside of a gossip magazine finding no other way to help time go on. He relaxes in the small chair near the desk, he’s reading an article about a actress, he’s never heard of. Cheap gossip, he assumes. His attention is drawn away by a small knock on the door frame, it’s a younger woman; Henrietta, a natural brunette with a killer smile. She leans into the room, gently pulling her microphone from her mouth as she speaks: 
“Chris, they’re ready for you.” 
Chris smiles, he takes a look in the mirror, running his fingers through his hair and begins his journey out of the room. He walks past a few other people to the interview room, where a small woman, a bleached blonde sits in a chair. A large smile on her face as she speaks to a male in front of her. She’s wearing a tight red dress that didn’t look work appropriate, Chris was never one to judge however.
When her brown eyes meet his, she flashes her second smile of the night and extends her hand forward, shaking his hand; firmly. 
“I’m very glad that you decided to take part in this, Chris.” She says, softly. 
“It’s my pleasure.” he responds also smiling. 
“It’s nice to meet you in person, I’m Cynthia Lawson.” She takes her hand from his and motions to the chair. 
They take their seats, Chris in front of her and the cameras begin focusing on the two. The questions start off normal, asking how Chris became an actor what drew him to this career, why hr choose to portray a character that was so different than Captain Kirk, how he believed the audience would respond to sudden change of pace. Chris was polite, humoring the woman with every answer mainly to keep himself out of boredom. The question in interviews always seemed to remain the same, just spoken by another person with a different tone. it made the job seem boring. However Chris never complained, he’d smile and make it through the interview completely respectful.
The interview continued going over the typical question until the mood suddenly changed. The papers that had been resting on her lap since the interview began had her attention. She shuffled through the papers and once again asked another question.
“Now you’re single?” She asked but the tone made it sound like a point instead of a question.
Chris smiled, “ Yes.”
“Hmm….” She smirks, before turning another page and smiling at him. “You’re sure about that?”
Chris furrows his brow, “Yeah…” He answers confused, uncomfortably he shifts in the chair. He pulls his sleeve further down his shirt as he stares at her confused.
“I don’t think so.” Cynthia says, smiling. She crosses her legs in front of her and lays her eyes on Chris.
Chris tilts his head and blinks a few times, catching the attention of his assistant who also shares a look of confusion on her face. He clears his throat, “I’m sorry?”
Cynthia continues, her eyes never leaving Chris’ as she continues her intrusion. “I don’t think that you are being honest with us.”
Chris’ eyes search for someone in the room who should intervene yet the only person who seems the slightest bit concerned Is his assistant. She frantically looks st the clipboard she’s holding to see find the information on the interview. It was suppose to be a normal interview, normal questions but this was taking a turn for the worst.
“I don’t know what you mean.” Chris asks after another uncomfortable silence shared between the two.
Cynthia gives Chris a devilish smile, “Have you eve been unfaithful?”
Chris swallows deeply, “Uh—” he begins to get uncomfortable, unsure of where this is going. Interviews about movies had their twists and turns and personal questions but this felt like a trail. He was being questioned.
“You see I ask because you've been involved with a few women just these past years while you’ve been in a relationship with someone else. Which leads one to believe that you have either been cheating on a woman for ten or more years or you’ve been creating a facade of fake relationships.”
Chris’ mouth drops open, taken back by the statement. His eyes shift between the woman and the camera, shocked. “What– I don’t know what you mean.”
Cynthia pulls out another piece of paper and begins reading it, “What kind of man would keep his wife hidden?” She leans to her right, the paper resting tightly between her thumb and her index finger. “Has you career gotten so big that you don’t even care for her?”
Chris stutters, “i–wha–” he looks lost. His gaze never leaving hers as he tries to find the joke, the punch line anything to direct the conversation to another area. “I’m not married.” He finally says.
“This marriage certificate says otherwise.” She turns the paper around, holding it in front of Chris’ face.
He immediately rips the paper out of her hand, his eyes scouting the page for his name. There in dark black ink was his name written and a woman’s name just below his. His eyes grow wide and his mouth once again drops open in disbelief. the interviewer however seems to be in complete awe of her accomplishment. Chris’ eyes go back to his assistant who has her phone pressed against her ear, presumably speaking to someone else on his team. His silent prays are answered when she interrupts the interview, shoving her clipboard into the camera facing Chris’, shouting that the interview is over. She grabs his arms pulling him away all while his mind is still processing what happened.
As the assistant begins dragging Chris away, Cynthia doesn’t stop. The interrogation continues. “Are you denying your legally married to Y/N Y/L/N?” She shouts. He moved alongside the much smaller woman, her actions mimicking a security and if it weren’t for any other situation they found themselves in, he’d remark how cute it was to a see a woman who stood at exactly five foot pushing people out of his way. Yet as he continued to move, he wasn’t sure how his feet knew to of how is brain was able to communicate with his legs to tell them to move with everything going on.
When they made it to his dressing room, his assistant nearly three him into the wall, with frustration. “What the hell was that?” She shouted as she grabbed his items from the table and shoved them into as bag.
“I-I dont know.” he mutters, quietly. He rereads the certificate of marriage a hundred times, trying to understand what was going on. How this was happening and most of all if it was fake. 
Henrietta looks at Chris was an annoyed look. “Let’s go.” She says, walking past him towards the door. 
“We can’t leave in the middle of an interview.” He says slightly raising his voice. 
“Do you think it’s a good idea to sit back down with that lady and have her grill you on a fake marriage?”
Chris sighs, slowly following her out of the room attempting to hide his face from the people surrounding them. The pair make it out of the building unscathed, Henrietta continues to lecture Chris the entire way to the car. The lectures don’t cease when the enter the car. 
“You P.R. team is going to be on my ass.” She complains. 
Chris’ hand is still tightly gripped around the certificate, folding the paper in half while his mind races. He looks out the window, watching the people of California go about their daily lives.  
“Is there any truth to this marriage?” Henrietta asks, her hand running through her hair. Shocked and scared. He goes through the interview in his head, the words circulating. She repeats the question again, louder. 
“No.” He says, quietly. 
Just as Henrietta predicted the P.R. team was experiencing a nightmare, an article went on blast about this ‘marriage.’ Claiming Chris was a unfaithful husband and that he was a liar. Tarnishing the mans reputation over a lie. She handed Chris’ her cell phone allowing him to read the article. 
Tumblr media
He scoffs at the article, tossing the phone back to her; in disgust. Chris is dropped off at his home, told to remain mum until he hears back from someone. Keep out of the limelight. Don’t draw media attention.
He did as he was told, ordering a box of pizza and breaking into the six pack of beers that were left in his fridge. The certificate of marriage was left atop of the counter while he retreated to the couch. Turning on whatever game was playing, not caring if it was hockey, baseball or golf. He just needed something to distract his mind from the previous events. 
He was on his second beer trying to find something else to watch when he switched to a gossip show and the first thing that was reported was Chris Pine’s tragic love story. Yet another piece of garbage that was intent on ruining him. He scoffed, annoyed. Watching the show out of spite. Shouting obscenities at the television as the hosts continued their mocking and berating. By the time he begins his fifth beer, he thinks back to the marriage certificate, who would have the audacity to fabricate such a story. He sits up straight, leaning his head into his hands and groaning. He scratches his head in annoyance when suddenly his eyes open, quickly, a shocked expression runs through his head. 
He jumps up, his body language mimicking a terrified cat. His mouth hands open while panic sets over him. His beer falls to the floor, spilling over the brown carpet as he walks to his bedroom. He opens the top drawer in his dresser, the one he uses for paperwork; pieces of paper fall to the floor with his fit of rage. His floor is covered in paper and the drawer is nearly empty when he discovers the paper he was looking for. 
Divorce papers. 
His eyes scan over the document, catching certain words: “Dissolution of marriage”, “Shared between”; “Christopher Whitelaw Pine and Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N.” He flips through the pages getting to the last page where there should be signatures and instead there is only one, hers. Her signature rests on the bottom of the dark line and his was never filled. The line that should have had his signature was empty, unwritten; a ring stain of what he can only assume is coffee is on the same page. 
He drops to his knees, the paper beneath him crinkle upon impact. “Fuck.” he whispers, quietly. 
Chapter two: 
291 notes · View notes