#— velvet ☕ | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

the-kr8tor · 5 months ago

Text

In Pursuit of Blood: Vampire or Cowboy?

A/N: just something silly that spawned in @pleaktale and I's dms lol enjoy!

Pairing: Vampire! Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Word count: 1.8k

Synopsis: the camera crew finds something amiss.

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, CW blood mention, Vampire! Hobie, Hobat 🦇, Vampire AU, mockumentary AU, set in the WWDITS universe, FLUFF

In Pursuit of Blood/vampire! Hobie Masterlist

Navigation

Buy me a ☕?

The camera enters Hobie's familiar abode. Red velvet curtains that drape along ceilings and windows greet the camera crew. There's a noticeable lack of dust and spiderwebs around the place, books properly shelved, and no evidence of blood on the now spick and span floors. There's even a fancy lavender scented candle sitting on the newly polished grand piano that's placed inside the interview room that was formerly known as the living room; or as you humorously called it when you moved in— the ‘undead room’.

Even with the mansion clean of any grime since the last time the crew visited, there's a lack of you or Hobie lingering around the vast corridors. The flame on the candle flickers, the producer expects Hobie to jump out at them any second now with his fangs out to scare them. After a beat, there's still no trace of a vampire telling them to fuck off.

There's a sigh behind the camera, the lenses zoom in and out of the opened supply closet that was left open where buckets of murky water sits. Used cloths are hanging from the shelves, jugs of soap and bleach sit half empty next to the dusty fabric. The entire place is like a ghost town where the occupants hurriedly left their dinner on the table, but this time they're cleaning supplies. The crew is left scratching their heads, not even a sound can be heard except for their footsteps against wood, and wires dragging across the floor. The camera whips around the quiet place, paintings upon paintings are the only sign of life left hanging on the walls.

The camera enters Hobie's record room where portraits and things full of sentimental value from your ancestors lie. There's no one in the room, not even a lone spider is left on the ceiling. A whispered “where the fuck are they?” Can be heard from the boom mic guy. The front doors were left unlocked for the crew to enter so that means that you and Hobie were expecting them.

The crew continued on, they passed by the front gates and the porch when they first entered so that means you weren't there doing your afternoon stretching. And with the sun still up, Hobie cannot be caught outside lest he crumples into dust. So there's only one place they need to check, Hobie's mysterious bedroom. The crew hasn't stepped foot in the room just yet, or even seen it for that matter. There was just no need for them to enter, until now. If he's missing, he could be sleeping inside his coffin, and where Hobie is, you'd be there.

Sure enough, when they climbed up the stairs and into the long hallway, the crew sees ripped packages scattered on the floor. Plastic packaging and boxes from an online shop are left like bread crumbs that lead towards the bedroom door that's left ajar.

Every person on the crew quietly makes their way to the door, an almost impossible feat considering there's seven of them lagging behind the main camera. The hallway grows dimmer, as they walk, the light left inside the room acts as a lighthouse to the stalking documentary crew. The cameraman is the first person who made it in front of the door, he kneels down silently despite the heavy camera on his shoulder. He turns the lenses inside the ajar door, peeking inside. With an adjustment of his lens, he zeroes in on your giddy face, grin wide and happy, hands occupied with what looks like a bat doll in front of you.

“So. Fucking. Cute!” You squeal, fists shaking from the adorable sight. You sit on a comfortable chair with Hobie's desk in front of you, already taking hundreds of pictures with your phone.

While you were too occupied with your dress up bat, the camera zooms in on the toy bat. Meanwhile, the other crew members peek overhead, trying not to make a peep whilst they look for Hobie inside the room. His coffin is wide open, red plush velvet lining around the strong oak resting place. The producer is sure that she saw a polaroid of you tucked inside the velvet, and an extra pink pillow with a matching blanket inside. Her thoughts are interrupted by Jared the cameraman, who's currently tugging at her sleeves. She follows where the camera points, failing to see anything except for the unmoving bat, she taps her tablet awake to see what the camera sees more clearly.

She almost gasps at the sight. The camera has fully zoomed in on the bat’s face where a dozen or so piercings lie, the same piercings a certain vampire has. The said bat/vampire has a cowboy hat on, complete with a tiny feather decorating it. Instead of Hobie's black leather vest, a brown fringed vest has replaced it. There's even a gun belt around his tiny waist that has a very miniscule gun that glints in the yellow lamp of his desk.

Bat Hobie's eyes just stare at you, slowly blinking, nose twitching but not from annoyance. The crew can see that he's staying still for you, something they've never thought was possible in their six months of filming him and you. The camera lenses zoom out, showing the vast costumes on the floor next to the desk. There's the classic vampire cloak that's laying on a red chiffon dress, (oh Jared would kill to see bat Hobie in that) a chef hat next to dozens of plastic toy shoes that they're not sure would even fit a bat’s feet. But of course they're proven wrong when you carefully lift up bat Hobie's foot to place the cutest (most accurate) cowboy boots on each of his tiny feet.

You squeal again, Hobie puffs up his chest, posing for the camera. “Hell yeah! Just like that and you're on the cover of Vogue, Hobie!” They can all tell that the cowboy outfit is his favourite from the way he poses.

There's more unopened packages next to you, but you're still not satisfied with his look. In between your fingers, you hold a gilded sheriff badge. The crew watches as Hobie rejects the badge with a screech. He bares his fangs, for a moment, the crew is afraid that he'd bite you, forgetting that he's not an actual bat but an actual vampire that could drain you of your blood within a minute. You're not phased about it, not one bit. The pout on your lips and your puppy dog eyes can be seen from the camera. Hobie shakes his tiny head, large floppy ears swaying around as he moves.

You sigh, relenting. Hobie waddles his way towards your hand, taking it in his claws gently, and then he does what the crew would never expect from the most powerful vampire they've ever known. Hobie leans into your palm, giving you a little kitten lick across the pad of your finger. And then you do the unexpected, even in the entire crew's wildest dreams they could never think of it; based on how you, a vampire hunter from a renowned vampire hunting family could interact with a vampire you were tasked to kill three years ago. You lean down to kiss his fluffy cheek, he even has his eyes closed the entire time, savouring your affection yet chaste kiss. Chuckling, you're still not satisfied, you peck him once again to his delight. Hobie makes a purring sound from the kiss, the crew is sure that they cannot air whatever they're seeing.

“Aww, okay, no badge.” You shift in your seat, talking softly at bat Hobie. Ducking down towards the boxes to take a plastic horse, Hobie now has the perfect view of the peeping camera crew.

His stare freezes them in place, they don't know if he's embarrassed by the whole ordeal they caught him in, or Hobie's trying to intimidate him with a look. Either way, the camera crew is petrified.

“Horsey?” You ask, still oblivious to the danger that lies behind Hobie's red beady eyes. “Or no horsey?” You poke his fluffy side, sweetly calling his name. “You okay? What's wrong? We can stop if you're not having fun anymore.” The crew can barely recognize how sweet you're talking to him. Especially just last week you threw a knife at his head because he watched an episode without you.

Hobie flicks his eyes away from the crew, they sigh audibly, feeling their blood rush through their veins once again. They've seen what true fear was like, and you don't envy them when you turn around towards the sound.

“You guys are early. Again.” You nonchalantly say. “We're not done yet. Do you guys mind closing the door?” The crew is still frozen behind the door, some are gasping for air, some are just flat out terrified.

A puff of black smoke appears, and Hobie in all his glory, comes into view behind the fog like a theater curtain opening for him. He's in his regular clothes, but for some reason, the cowboy costume you've put on him also grew with him. The fringe vest fits perfectly on him, the spurs on his cowboy boots shine in the yellow lamp as he sits on the desk, one leg up on the table as you continue to sit in front of him while you're taking more photos of him.

“I don't understand the logic but holy shit this is the hottest thing ever.” You gasp, the shutters of your phone camera clicking relentlessly. Hobie glances at you, face hidden behind the brim of his hat, shadows covering his face. You smile at him, eyes roaming over him, fingers tugging at the hem of his vest. “Goddamn.” You sigh.

“Later, love. I need to get rid of pests.” He says with a nudge of his boot on your leg, there's tenderness hidden underneath it. But his eyes tell the opposite, with a flick of his hat, the crew has the perfect view of his eyes. The pupils of his wine red eyes move about, shaking in anger. “Get out.”

There's a gust of wind as he quickly moves to the door, crouching down, eye to eye with the camera, he stares at the lenses until the glass cracks. With a glance towards their terrified faces, they all run away for their lives. As if Hobie would actually kill them, especially if he can just tell them to delete the footage. Worst case scenario, he can delete the memory from their minds. It will be like dragging a file towards the trash bin icon but instead of a file it's their brains. They'll just get a headache for a few days, even so, he doesn't want to do that. Maybe he can reason with them by telling them (in front of their camera) a story during his time in the 1920s. Or maybe just pay for the lenses he broke.

As the entire crew runs, the mics capture your muffled yet loud laughter behind the door when Hobie slams the door shut.

Support banner by @/cafekitsune

124 notes · View notes

sophibutt · 6 days ago

Text

☕ Auri (they/she) and Velvet (she/they) ☕

they are kissing!!!! i wanted to experiment with some new brushes and techniques which i'm fairly happy with! i'm not sure if i'll stick with the brush though :3☕💜

#furry #anthro #red panda #fox #fursona #furry oc #oc #transgender #lesbian #yuri #my art #furry art #anthro art #digital illustration #artists on tumblr

57 notes · View notes

milqueandsugar · 6 months ago

Text

🌼☕` Something New `☕🌼

Gen / Fluff

Includes / alastor

A/n - super short just to get something out before finals week wrecks my ass!

"Alastor..?"

Your voice surprises him, it must have the way his ear twitches, the way he seems too relaxed as though over compensating.

"Yes?"

He pushes his arms through the length of his crimson sleeve of his suit jacket, completing his ensemble. It was rare for you to wake early enough to catch him dressing for the day. In all honesty you just assumed he magiced his clothes on and off.

"Have you always had a tail or is this a new developmen" he doesn't have the time to put up his mask of suavity, you catch his smile strain.

"What tail?" It's hard to see his face, standing directly in front of the balcony window where the red light of hells sunny morning beamed through the Velvet curtains. Even cast in shadow you can tell he's lying.

"The one on your back." He tugs the lapels of his suit jacket, stepping to the full length mirror to adjust his collar.

"I haven't an honest clue what you're talking about, dear.".

"Hmm, must be a new development then."

You catch the sharp turn of his head at a neck breaking speed and angle just before you roll over to return to sleep.

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel imagine #alastor imagine #alastor x reader #alastor x y/n #alastor x you

114 notes · View notes

marcspectorstannie · 10 months ago

Text

Moonboys birthday blurbs bc it's Oscar Issacs bday as well ≛

¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸

Marc☯

Bc of his childhood he never really celebrated his birthday since he was around 9

Ofc you're changing that

You bought him a small cake with "Happy birthday!" written on it and balloon shaped candles

You got matching bracelets and they were sun and moon themed :3 (ofc u got the sun)

He cannot hide his giant ass smile (or so called smile) when you surprise him with singing

Ofc in his head he's going insane and lowkey freaking out bc he's so greatful and also bc he kinda forgot he had a birthday*cough*

Oh and u forced him to wear a party hat with a pompom on it and now u have a Polaroid of him looking very annoyed :3

Steven☕︎︎

Also never celebrated his birthday bc he doesn't have anyone to celebrate with and finds it really awkward to celebrate by himself :(

Would only by small treats like cookies or sweets as a gift to himself

but then u came!!!

Changed this man's life for the better I tell you

You didn't get him a cake but instead just got a candle and lit it so he can blow it out (ofc) and then went for ice cream

You got matching build a bears!!1!1!1!! He as a regular dark brown bear and you have a golden Bear (both have matching t-shirts *cry*)

Cutest b'day pics together omg

Jake☠︎︎

*ik this gif isn't him but shhh*

It's like this man celebrates nothing tbh he's allergic to joy and cheer

You obviously fix that bc duh

You got him a cake but it's mainly you eating it and he has like 15% of it (his fav is red velvet argue with the wall)

Singing to him is the most awkward thing bc he'll give you the nastiest side eye even though he kinda likes it

You got him a pocket knife with MoonKnight engraved in the handle

He totally didn't almost smile when you gave it to him instead of smirking

Spent majority of the day inside with takeout food

¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸

#marvel #marc spector #moon knight headcanon #steven grant #moon knight #moon knight x reader #moon knight comics #steven grant headcanon #marc spector x reader #moonknight

164 notes · View notes

spade-riddles · 2 months ago

Note

Who else decodes you? Me. Let's decode Karlie's latest posts...

This is the second time in a row now that Karlie has posted on her story just a couple hours after Taylor made a tour stop post.

I've been doing math lately between important gaps, and so when I saw the first thing she posted was a vending machine with "Route 66" on it I knew exactly what the reference was already.

Taylor's entire NOLA stop post focuses on her collab with Sabrina which was on Oct 26th 2024.

Karlie's first story post is directly in response. Because exactly 6 weeks and 6 days after Oct 26th is... you guessed it. 12/13/24. Taylor's birthday. The alleged coming out. Done through Reputation TV via the KARma the album vault tracks. Double 6 albums. Twin albums.

"Karma is the fire" (quote from KARma the song)

"The Reputation vault tracks will be FIRE" (quote from taylor)

And it is important to note that in Taylor's post for NOLA she used "flare" instead of flair. Flare as in a sudden burst of flame that is used to send a signal and draw attention. Taylor does not make spelling mistakes. The 11th slide she included, when Karma is track 11, shows orange flames burning behind her as she is in her full 1989 yellow/light orange toned outfit head to toe twinning with the flames. Engulfed. Burning so bright.

But this wasn't the only bread crumb trail she left. She redirected us to Derek Blasberg's insta page. Where he posted something very suspicious... and very current to what's been going on lately.

On October 18th, Karlie's stunt "wedding anniversary" date, and the first day that the Eras Tour returned in Miami Florida, Derek posted:

"Some people call it fall, some people call it autumn, and some people call it black velvet tuxedo jacket weather 🖤"

So call it what you want Derek?

To highlight the significance, Taylor played call it what you want exactly 1 week later. And going anon posted the emoji message that decodes to call it what you want, the day Taylor played it. I am unsure of the time going anon posted this, whether it was before or after Taylor played the surprise song, so feel free to clarify Spade.

Call it what you want was also played the day right before Oct 26th 2024 when Sabrina joined Taylor on stage. None of these things are coincidental or happenstance. They are all telling the same story if you look closer than what meets the eye.

For instance..... how playing Espresso was not just a surprise song. No, that was not it's purpose. Rather, it was a plan in advance coming full circle that's been in motion since the Karma MV released. Not everything is what it seems on the surface. Shift your perspective. Look to the constellations. The truth is Karmic.

I will explain soon if it is in your wishes for me to do so, but that will need a post of its own. For now, I will leave you with this.

"I had some dreams, they were clouds in my coffee" - Carly Simon ☕ ☕

#going anon message #came less than an hour #before she played call it what you want

46 notes · View notes

delicrieux · 1 year ago

Text

𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 & 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐥𝐞 | endless oneshots (winter edition)

pairing—regulus black x reader genre—angstyyy summary—a moment shared in the living room word count—3.4k

masterlist. ☕. reqs are open!

the wall distracts you. the great family tree of the noble house of black. on their velvet sofa you find yourself quite small faced with the vastness of the room – in front, the magnificent tapestry of a lineage woven into time and into objects, like a permanent impact; in back, the frost covered windows, and further still, the late afternoon glow of the sun burning the whole of london. you imagine, briefly, yourself painted in. your small portrait and your name. you long for it in moments; you know no other wish. the shape of you has been made for this only.

how tedious. how meticulously exact the needlework must be to look appealing. how with your wand you can only return the inner lapel of regulus’ coat to its pristine condition and begin again. each time, the frustration threatens to spill through bitten lips. an uncaring loop thrusts through skin and hits bone. you give up, almost, with the silver thread coiled around your fingers like a hair. r. a. b. shouldn’t be too hard, should it? three letters only, sown by hand, a small, meaningless claim to a coat he already owns. as if he can’t recognize his things, how silly. by the seventh poke you wonder if this odyssey has any significance to it. why grapple to capture a tempest in a teapot? you could easily weave it into existence with magic.

it would still be a kind gesture, a thoughtful one. an affectionate one, even, if regulus cared to look – see the tired hands, the waxen expression, the lapel grasped so tightly. the look you’d give for a second because you couldn’t bear to be more honest than that. i did it for you, please wear it and think of me.

but no, it must be done by hand, else the magic won’t work. something about labor, the repetitive loop and pull that sows in more than letters. fixes more than thread. such a potent protection, only from what you can’t say. in a blood-warm waters of a dream, you puzzled over a crystalline cave in search of something precious, only you couldn’t recall what. in april of next year, regulus will die there, and you’ll never know. but he’ll wear the coat with his initials woven by your hand, and that will be enough.

you don’t look up when he enters, but you recognize the footsteps. regulus is never direct, at least, not with you. he’ll circle the tapestry and then circle the windows and circle the coffee table and then he’ll have nothing left to admire so he’ll admire you. sit beside, throw a glance at your pious work and draw, with his eyes, the shape of your profile. think, perhaps, of a branch of the family tree from his portrait to something that doesn’t yet exist, or the rose-bush pattern of the couch and how one branch connects his shoulder with yours.

“what are you doing?”

“making sure you don’t lose your things,” what a non-response, as if he’s known to misplace objects or articles of clothing. regulus can be careless, but never to warrant worry over useless matters such as this. he has many coats, and can purchase just as many if not more, and if petty, he can pilfer from sirius and row because the silence had grown too loud, “don’t make fun of me, it has to be hand-stitched or the enchantments will fade."

"i was never going to," he says, a faint twitch of amusement about the mouth. regulus always likes that you take his jokes seriously or his comments too light. that, from anyone else, you'd hardly even register. it makes him special, perhaps. as though only he is worth the recognition, or you desire him to have it, "...is this my birthday gift?"

"birthday, don't make me laugh," you mumble, biting the inside of your cheek, "would hardly be appropriate. it's a christmas gift."

"christmas." is the offhanded response. a statement, an assessment, but without judgement. only regulus can wield that so cooly. can live in between worlds that should not overlap. androgyne in tone and disposition, and the sound of it, your name, sweet as any chocolate. you glance up and smile wryly, "oh."

"oh indeed," you utter, and the final, hesitant thread is plunged to the fabric. his initials gleam as freshly cut silver. you offer him the needlework, "there." pride fits in your mouth like a candy well liked, sweetens the tone into something likely mocking, "not bad, is it, regulus? or perhaps you think hand-stitching is out of fashion and outdated, a lost art of our aristocratic roots."

regulus doesn't respond. his touch is a cautious one. fingers slide gently across the intricate curve of his initials and trail it upward to the collar and you pretend not to notice. regulus must always inspect things like an artist inspects his pieces. with a certain amount of scorn and longing.

"if it's for christmas," regulus says quietly, still running his fingers along the letters, "do i need to return a gift to you?"

you stop yourself short of giving the response that is right at the tip of your tongue. the verbiage is odd. instead, "return?"

"yes. to match, or rather, one that compliments. does such a custom matter much?"

"ah, well," it does, of course it does. such gifts are not for two sides. they're something sacred for one side only. he's not nimble with his fingers nor patient enough to wield a needle. he'd quit before the first draw of blood on cloth from his useless hands. he could magic it, but that would feel like a lie. what is this offer, or is it a suggestion? an implication? more daring than the look he gives you, certainly. no, he couldn't possibly imply something so domestic. regulus is not the type. so it can only be you reading too much. a stanza where there should be none, "you'd ruin my coat."

"naturally," regulus doesn't smile, not even to go along with his deadpanned tone, as though he could think of no better possibility, but you know better, or at least you tell yourself this. you do; how his head tips slightly towards you, the steady gaze, and the quirk of his brow, it's a rare breed of expression he dons only to you, when he can't bring himself to a more chaste form. you could spend hours sorting every fraction of difference, so keen they are to the point that you swear they must exist. you wouldn't be surprised if someone else says they see nothing,"... a handmade gift for a handmade gift. just for you."

"for me," is all you can muster in response, perhaps hoping you'd hear it clearer, and less vague and silly, in your mouth than his. he has given you presents. lovely, but impersonal. his brother shows more interest even if he has none for you. sirius hears but regulus listens and then willfully picks things everyone would like to receive. the ideal gifts, never with heart or consideration, yet you wear them proudly to hide your bitterness, because such attention is not unwanted, and neither is this. regulus is not incapable of more but his more is reduced to a subtle nothing, like a glance at the tapestry and a thought.

"...the needle's sharp." is the offhand observation, "you're bleeding."

regulus's concern is odd and undefined; you're not the most affectionate of friends. the fondness shared, the gentle jibes, are for you, really, because how else can you convince yourself you're happy. or to soothe the aching of that pesky hope, the wish and want of the moon reflected upon water. your gaze is steady. your hand is steady, "see how much i care?" and you hold up your middle finger with a smile, "i bleed for you."

he does look at it. his lips quirk into a ghost of a smile. "do you." he says, and returns to you, the trace of a frown on his face as though he's grown distressed with such a gesture, and like an adult will scold their pet for bad behavior, says, "really, that's quite silly. no, worse. don't do such unnecessary things to your pretty hands."

pretty, he says, and how easy would it be to mock him or put him in his place with a joke and a teasing word or two. is he making fun of you again? it's only an insult when delivered to the point. and it would feel worse when he isn't, when he's just offering a compliment in a strange sort of way.

"doesn't hurt that much." you say with a confidence unshaken, and the wounds are so meager they're not even worth healing. they'll dry and close before he can lift his wand for episkey or conjure a bandage. but they'll remain, for a day or two, as proof of your diligence. the methodical elegance that comes from creating a handmade gift. you'll look at your hands and know they have worked to protect him.

it hurts a bit more when he reaches for them. if you really did want to press, he'd insist or, with a haughty glare, defy you and prove the strength of his own silly pride, but he only asks, and then, does so with such tenderness you would think he held glass and not your injured hands, the result of a restless task meant for his comfort. your fingers stings the slightest against the brush of his fingertips, calloused and slightly cold, "...you've always been a fool."

"only when it matters," you say softly.

when he says your name, he lingers on the last syllable, with the tilt of his head and the curious narrow of his eyes. to pick apart and discern. to wonder. only briefly, like all his attentions, does the hand linger. the expression you want is not one he'd be willing to show so clearly, not even in the warmth of the dying light.

"stop saying ridiculous things." regulus says after a pause. he won't, however, release your hands. they remain there in his grip, unmoving and together.

"learn to take a joke," you answer.

he leans forward. "make it funny and perhaps i will."

"funny," you can't say a thing to that, yet you've thought up many. later, when he is asleep and his pale face is illuminated by the moonlit night, you'll recite all the things you could not.

"got nothing else to say?" a quirk of the lip. joined hands, fingers intertwined, though not so securely. loose enough that if the mood strikes or a strange sentiment overcomes him, he'd break them apart and away.

"oh, plenty," you can't keep your face straight, and so your smile is quick to return, "i’ve only taken pity on you. did you miss the sound of my voice already?"

"very presumptuous, aren't we," he glances aside, "and really, so outlandish. the nerve. you have the nerve."

"i suppose i do." you squeeze his hand lightly, "nerve. candor. the quality that earns a great admirer."

"or the ire of all who know you best," he tilts his head to the side, glances quickly at you, and with a surprising amount of assertiveness, curls his fingers tighter around yours, "i appreciate that you'd like to share your charisma but some people don't consider charm to be a particularly laudable virtue."

"that's such a bad lie that i might as well be told you don't think i'm charming at all, not in the slightest. and oh, there we are, what a pout. you're entirely predictable."

"and you entertain me, still."

"you're the one that holds my hands hostage," you note wryly, wiggling your fingers slightly.

regulus doesn't have a quick response for that. at most he offers the roll of his eyes. doesn't let go, simply presses. let's a drop of your blood stain his skin. when he speaks again, he's grown thoughtful, "...hostage, yes?"

"...oh, do stop that," a pause. the silence lingers, "no, that's quite unfair."

"do you think so or not?"

your pulse throbs loud enough to deafen you. it is a foolish question and the answer is a clear enough indication of what you think. what motive could he have? to delight at the humiliation of your confession or to watch you tangled in a lie you clearly don't believe? the truth is so obvious it's untactful to inquire about its validity.

he sounds so serious as his thumb brushes along the dips and hills of your knuckles, "well? your answer? or is a minute not enough to think of something witty?"

at this, you frown, "regulus." and it comes quiet, like a warning.

"thought it came naturally to you. such creativity."

he has grown to be cruel sometimes. most times, rather, when it suits him to be. a petty, petulant thing not yet ready to leave its comfortable shell and grow beyond, "you must be eager for me to release you," he adds. a bitter afterthought.

"are you done?" you ask.

"what shall you do with your hands once they’re free?" he wonders, "sow something for sirius? he’d be wrecked if he didn’t receive a gift like mine."

"regulus." you repeat with a frown, "don't."

"why not?" he blinks.

"a gift doesn't mean anything if it's a gift for the masses."

"well, it'll be custom, i imagine," he says, "with his initials this time."

"regulus," a third time you've said it, a sharp tongue to cut, "stop it. you're being mean."

his eyes are cast downward, expression impassive. "if this is what it takes to get you to respond, then perhaps i am."

this isn't the game. the one where he'll pretend not to care so as to observe how you'll react. it is the type where you'll act cold enough he'll hesitate. then he'll carelessly expose himself so the hurt can be delivered with ease. an offense so great you'll seek the sweet relief of exile.

"i made it for you," you utter, barely a whisper, "no one else."

"is that so."

"if you don't want it, i won't force you to keep it."

"no, i like it," his expression has remained the same, if not with a certain lack of conviction, a flat tone you want to interpret as some half lie, but you don't. instead you nod. a half-hearted turn of your head before meeting his eyes.

"a bit possessive, don't you think? getting so cross over a made up problem?" you inquire.

"made up, huh?" you like the inflections of his voice, and even in his reluctance he maintains them, the gentle flow, the steadfast determination to the subject.

"mhm."

"thought it was logical to assume. you're friends."

"i have a different gift planned for him."

"different?" he clarifies.

"quite," you say, all sorts of bitter, "a broom cleaning kit."

that, at least, seems to somewhat appease him. and regulus settles, ever so slightly, his brow a faint twitch. the motion you always want to trace with your fingers, and map along until you memorize every curve and line and plane of his face.

he adjusts your hands again, idly thumbing over the slope and curve. he is thoughtful again, contemplative and somber and nothing more. a lingering fear clings to the curve of his mouth, "do you ever wish you could disappear?"

the question has no context, and it strikes you as the type that never did, with a subtle heaviness he is familiar with the implications of. it is only in a selfish way that the fear occurs. his isolation, perhaps. or he must assume that all others can share a similar loneliness, though only in different quantities.

"do you?" you ask instead.

"perhaps. sometimes. maybe not." he does, you think, look as though he often considers running away to somewhere no one else is aware of him. or if he's not wanted there, then elsewhere. somewhere remote and a touch fantastical. a desperate escape from family tradition, from being the second born son. a desire, or rather, absconding from responsibility. to be far and forgotten; to live a life you believe would bring you some semblance of peace and happiness, though not enough for the longing to subside and never enough for him to admit to it. no, regulus would first die than admit it out loud.

admit the envy he has for his brother. admit to wonder if anyone would look for him if he was to disappear.

you would. even if the rest wouldn't, you would. and if they did, how angry it'd make them if you refused to quit searching. it strikes you suddenly and without remorse, as if you've been pushed into a pile of snow. it's him you were searching for in your dream.

"no, then?" his voice shakes you away. your expression had frozen over, had it? how rare it is, to see worry worn so openly in the shape of those brows.

"sometimes," you answer honestly, though you're never quite sure where that might be. a growing, restless worry expands in the pit of your stomach. as though your nightmare is not so far from becoming reality. that one day, you'll search for him to the edge of the earth only to never find him again, "you aren't thinking of leaving, are you?"

he's taken aback by your expression. "of course not," he reassures, and he seems as though he means it, "i'm only indulging hypotheticals."

"alright."

"are you okay?"

"sure. yes. yes, absolutely."

regulus peers at you closely, scrutinizing, the gesture intense and pointed in its nature. and he returns to tracing the veins on your skin, a practiced art. a light tickle that has you shivering, not that you'd want to move away. never from him.

you hear him, soft and hushed. perhaps it is more suited to the intimacy of the moment and not that he's become ashamed. a faint, lovely mumbling that you would like to indulge forever if possible, "i'm really not going anywhere." he brings your hand to his lips after a moment of hesitation, like he needs the courage, the comfort. an earnest reassurance in a form of a small kiss as if it were his own insecurities at play, "here's okay. here's more than enough."

you nod. whisper, when you realize how close the two of you have become, "yes, stay here."

"...you as well."

"i will."

"wouldn't want to run around looking for someone who's meant to stay within my sights, anyways."

and it is you that laughs a little too hard to seem genuine, "as though you'd do such a thing."

he answers with a confidence unshaken yet poorly disguised by the restraint shown, "i don't plan on ever losing sight of you."

your eyes meet and hold, but neither will ever confess to be the one who glanced away first. for different reasons, perhaps, and no less of a humiliation. no less difficult to accept. the sight of him is too difficult to bear; the hair framing his face and the gentle hue of pink that grows steadily redder the longer he holds your gaze. he drops your hand first, and you resist the urge to run your fingertips down the sharp of his jaw and feel the softness of his skin or tug his bottom lip and hear the shuddering intake of air. to feel what can't be expressed, at least, not so simply.

you can't blame regulus for not wanting to admit it. he's shaped by his surroundings, has grown up in a family that doesn't permit affections. he doesn't know the structure of i'm sorry or thank you or i love you. but if only for a second, surely, he can try to imitate. you treasure each of his clumsy syllables and failed tries because he has never attempted anything of this sort for anyone else. the success doesn't matter, because he is earnest, at least to the degree of his own understanding and limit, and it's easier to say what's painful in silence.

or, maybe, nothing's difficult when the sun's nearly gone. when the window pane burns pink and white, and when the stars appear through the haze of fog and snow, and you think of the future, with him, but as the heirs of two prominent houses together, and it feels like a fairy tale that way, not quite real. so long as you imagine it with a dreamy detachment, you can convince yourself it doesn't matter further than a wish that will never come true.

because you've never learned to say i'm sorry or thank you or i love you, either.

thank u for reading <3

#regulus black #regulus black x reader #regulus black x you #regulus x reader #harry potter x reader #harry potter #hp #hogwarts #imagine #imagines #reader #reader insert #xreader #harry potter x you #harry potter x y/n #regulus black imagine #the marauders #the marauders x reader #ITS TIMOTHEE CHALAMET !

258 notes · View notes

shadowbriar · 1 year ago

Text

James Potter - Call It Fate, Call It Karma

Pairing : James Potter x (she/her) Reader Word Count : 3k Warning : Plenty of curse words. Synopsis : James' world was flipped upside down as the engagement ring now sits on the wrong girl's finger. Notes : Post no 4 for my 1 Year Anniversary Celebration. Don't forget to fill the form here if you'd like to be tagged for my future works. If you like this story and would like to support me, please visit my kofi page and perhaps get me a coffee?☕ James Potter's Masterlist click here. Taglist : @jsjcue @ell0ra-br3kk3r @sofiacblair @coffeehurricanes @ineedmentalhelp123

James stares at his own reflection, whispering silent prayers as if they were a magic spell to help ground himself, tame the loud beating of his heart and provide the least bit of tranquillity for his troubled mind. It has been days since he’s got a good sleep. The days coming to Remus’ wedding have acted like a ticking time bomb, building anticipation of the apocalypse bound to happen once it explodes.

He wasn’t sure exactly the cause of his consternation. He supposed, wanting to get on your knees and ask your lover for their hand in marriage will surely cause you waves of jitters. The black velvet box in his pocket feels heavier each time he tries to silently reach for it. But could that be it? Could his nervousness to propose to Lily be the sole cause of his distress?

“You’re going to be alright,” James mutters to himself, taking deep breaths between his words “She’s not going to be here.”

A hard slap to his own cheek was done at the realisation of his words. Why would he say that? Why would he even think of her? He has Lily and his mother’s diamond ring to think about. How could she even slip herself in his mind at times like this?

Now James hates to admit it, but the little voice in his heart knew that Remus’ wedding and his plan to propose to Lily was nothing as terrifying as the idea of meeting his Hogwarts’ sweetheart after what seems to be forever. Their abrupt separation before graduation has left scars that James knew would never heal. The kind of marks that will always haunt your nights, making you ponder the unanswered what if scenarios.

The fear of meeting her has always been so grand that James never had the heart to ask Remus if he’s invited her to his wedding. They all have been great friends back in school, it would be more of an appalling fact to know that Remus didn’t invite her, so he remained quiet, letting time to provide him his answer.

“She’s going to be there,” James whispered quietly “And you’re going to be okay with it because she’s no one now. She’s a nobody.”

James nods to himself. The feigned determined expression on his face was fooling no one but it was the only thing he could do for himself. He can’t discuss this with Remus, Remus certainly has a lot on his plate already to prepare for the wedding. He can’t talk about this to Peter or Sirius either because he’s always acted as if he’s completely buried the thought of her though he always wondered if any of his best friends were ever convinced of such an act. And surely, James can’t share this with Lily because what would she think about him then?

The loud banging of his hotel door rudely breaks his train of thoughts. He could tell that the man standing behind the door would be none other than Sirius. There’s no one in this entire universe that is more loud and obnoxious than him.

“Prongs!” Sirius greets once the door is opened for him “Ah, you look grand, mate!”

James forced a smile, letting Sirius to get inside his suite.

“So I’ve got news for you. Good news and bad news. Which do you prefer to hear first?” Sirius asks, rubbing his hands together in an apprehensive manner “Knowing you, I’d go with the good news first. So the good news is, you, me, Remus, and Peter are going to go spend the night at the bar close by and live our life as if we never left that dreary dormitory room back in Hogwarts.”

“Tonight?” James asked “I don’t know mate, I’ve been feeling under the weather lately. I’m afraid I have to sit this one out. I might skip Remus’ wedding tomorrow if I don’t.”

“Nonsense! It’s the groom’s request and you’re one of his groom’s men so you have no other choice but to obliged.”

James rolled his eyes, groaning, “Fine. What’s the bad news, then?”

“Uh, right, the bad news.” Sirius says, now placing an arm around the bespectacled boy in an attempt of consolation “She’s going to join us tonight.”

“Yeah, I’ll definitely sit this one out.” James says as he pushes Sirius’ arm and walks away.

“No, no, no, no! It’s going to be fine. You see, me and Peter have crafted this plan to keep the two of you separate. I’ll be your wingman and Peter will watch over her so the two of you won’t meet unless it's absolutely necessary.” Sirius explains, trying to coax James to give in “You can’t seriously think that we’ll allow you to miss the last night before Remus is married.”

“Yes, but it’s her, Pads!” James argues, running his hand through his hair in desperation “Meeting her would essentially end me, quite literally!”

“No, no it won’t! Me and Peter will be there, remember?” Sirius lures “And you’ll be busy with Lily too, won't you? She’ll tether you to the ground.”

James groans once more, “Lily won’t be here until tomorrow morning. She’s stuck with her sister.”

“Oh,” Sirius grimaced.

James wasn’t sure if such a response was due to the fact that Lily’s sister is a terrible person to be stuck with or that Lily’s absence would cause greater chance of him to plummet back to the darkness. Either way it proved to be a better reason for him to skip this night out.

“Look, I love Remus and I’m sorry that it has to be this way, but I really don’t think I should come.” James says, his hand reaching to the velvet box in his pocket and showing it to Sirius “I can’t afford to make any mistake.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow, staring at the box, “You’re planning to propose?”

“Not at Remus’ wedding, no,” James answers “But yeah.”

“To Lily?”

“Well, yeah. Who else?”

Sirius frowns and James wasn’t sure if that was solely caused by his surprise or was there any other underlying reason as to why he wasn’t ecstatic to hear this. James expected him to be as delighted as when Remus announced his engagement. He could clearly remember the expressions plastered on each of his friends’ faces that night. Now such joy seems to be void of Sirius’ face.

“I— We’ll talk more about this later but you need to come with us tonight. You have to!” Sirius says again “I swear on my parents’ name that you won’t talk to her tonight. Like I said, I’ll be your wingman.”

“You have no regards for your parents’ Sirius. That’s not a very convincing swear.”

“Well who else do you want me to swear their name upon? My Death Eater brother?”

“Ex-Death Eater.”

Sirius rolls his eyes, “Fine, I swear on Regulus’ name that you won’t talk to her tonight. Now will you please hurry and change out of your ugly shirt? Wear something more decent, won’t you?”

—-

It was comforting. The layers of blanket wrapping her body, soft pillows around her head and the warmth it brought to her were something she wished she could keep in a bottle. Waking up in hotel beds has always been something she adores. It reminds her of her own bed back in Hogwarts, familiar and comfortable.

Her eyes were still half opened, trying to adjust to the brightness the sunlight was peeking through the sheer curtain. She must have forgotten to properly close it last night. Hell, she couldn’t even recall how she managed to get back to her hotel room. The last she could remember was meeting Remus and his fiancé before being whisked away by Peter to take shots by the bar.

The rest of the night felt like a complete skip of nothingness. She hoped that whatever happened last night wouldn’t cause Remus any trouble or embarrassment for herself. She does have the tendency to cause problems whenever she’s taken one too many drinks.

Her brows were knitted when a foreign object was felt as she rubbed her eyes. She stares at the solitaire ring now sitting beautifully on her left ring finger. It was gleaming under the limited light of the room. Whose ring was this?

“Good morning,” She heard a man’s voice greet her.

The sound was very pleasant to her ear. Like a warm cosy home you haven’t visited in a while but managed to return to after a while. It fills her heart with contentment, joy, and tranquillity. As if her heart was ready to implode from the satisfactory feeling. But the more her senses awake, the more consciousness she gained, she recognises whose voice this beautiful sound belongs to.

“Potter?!” She screams, pushing him who had his arms around her waist out of the bed “What are you doing in my room?!”

“I— What?!” James woke up from the scream, frantic to find the situation he’s in “What the— What’s going on?! I thought you were Lily!”

“I should be asking you that question! What are you doing in my room?!”

James grabs his glasses that were sitting by the bedside table, assessing the suite with half sleepy eyes, “This is my room! Those are my coat and shoes by the door, see?”

“I— Then what the hell am I doing here?!”

“I don’t know! You’re the one trespassing!”

“I did no such thing! I was at the bar with Peter and then— I just— What?!”

Her chest was heaving in panic. Her eyes crazed, looking around the suite to understand the setting better. She wasn’t supposed to be in this room. She wasn’t supposed to be in James Potter’s room. Hell, she wasn’t even supposed to meet him. She’s sworn to steer clear of his presence and it was the only condition she gave to Remus before agreeing to come to his wedding, that she would be placed as furthest as possible from him. So how is it that she’s finding herself on his bed right now?

“What is that?” James asked, pointing at the ring on her finger “Why do you have my mother’s ring on you?”

“I don’t fucking know, Potter. It found itself sitting there the moment I opened my eyes.” She spat, trying to take the ring off of her but proved to have such an action failing “What the hell?”

“Take it off!”

“I’m trying!” She yells “It won’t come off!”

“I— Shit, why do I have this on me too?” James questions as he notices a matching ring on his finger “Where was this from?”

“You’re asking me? Do I look like I know anything about rings?!” She says irritatedly, still trying to get the ring off of her “I can’t take this off unless we cut my finger.”

“Well, that’s an idea.”

She glares at him, not saying a word.

“This is bad.” James mutters as he begins to pace, feeling the anxiety to sink in “That was supposed to be on Lily’s finger, not yours!”

“Lily? Lily Evans?”

“Which other Lily do you know?”

“You’re planning to propose to Lily?” She asks, looking baffled now “How did you even manage to date her? She’s way beyond your league.”

James blinks, offended by her comment, “Mind you, I am in the same league as her. We’ve been happily together for years now.”

“Wait, you’re planning to propose to her at Remus’ wedding?” She questions “Talk about stealing your best friend’s thunder.”

“I— No, I wasn’t planning to propose to her today, okay! I only have the ring with me as an anchor so can you please take it off and return it before I’m losing my last strands of sanity.”

“It’s not coming off, I told you!”

James groans in despair, running his hand through his hair. He could feel his pillars crumbling down. That demon is finally claiming his soul once more. He has to force himself to walk further from the bed, pacing around the empty space so he could stop himself from staring at her. Even with such effort to create distance between them, James knows that he couldn’t fool himself. The crazy beating of his heart when he saw her have done more damage than he could ever afford to face.

Then suddenly, a loud banging on the door was heard. James turned his eyes to see her, seeing that panic on her face at the demanding sound. Sirius was persistent with his knocking.

“Don’t open it,” She warns “Don’t let anyone in. We can’t talk to anyone until we figure out what happened to us.”

“Nothing happened between us.” James says, not wanting to yield to reality just yet “You were just drunk and you mistakenly thought that my suite was yours.”

“Oh, I was drunk? How about you, do you remember anything then?” She challenges, pointing to the engagement ring on her finger “Have any clue as to why this ring of yours is on my finger?”

“I— Fuck!” James cruses, rubbing the bridge of his nose to calm himself “I have to open the door. Sirius won’t stop knocking unless I do.”

“Sirius’ knocking is the least of our troubles. What we need to do now is to trace down what happened to us last night. I refuse to go out of this door wearing this stupid ring. What am I to say if others ask?!”

“Well, I can’t remember shit from last night so we’ll only be running in circles, Sweetheart.” James retorts “And mind you, it’s not a stupid ring. It’s my mother’s.”

Her expression softens a little. Memories of how sweet and loving Euphemia Potter was came rushing in like a tidal wave. James’ mother has always been so fond of her, treating her as if she was her own daughter. She would always remember how his mother would compliment them two, saying that they remind her of how in love she was with James’ father back in the day. Now such memories only do more harm than good for her sanity.

Taking her silence as staleness in their argument, James walks himself to the door. His steps were wide and angry. Irritated by the persisting banging done by Sirius, his lack of understanding of the trouble he finds himself in, and the crazy beating of his heart from being in her presence.

“What?!” James spat at Sirius as he opened the door, barely so that Sirius won’t be able to peek inside.

“I— Geez mate, woke up on the wrong side of the bed?” Sirius asked with a raised brow “I was just worried you’ll miss the wedding. You disappeared last night, I thought something happened.”

Something did happen, James thought, but found himself shaking his head instead, “No, nothing happened. I was just about to take a shower and get ready. Thanks for checking up on me.”

Sirius nods, unimpressed by his words but takes it in anyway. He opens his mouth before closing it once again. Looking as if he has something to ask but decides to not to. Whatever that question might be, James was glad that it was never uttered. He has plenty on his plate already at the moment.

“Right,” Sirius says instead “I’ll see you at the venue, then.”

James nods, closing the door as Sirius turns his heels away.

He let out a relieved sigh once the clicking sound of the door was heard. James closes his eyes before turning to see her again. She was still on his bed, buried under the many blankets and pillows around her. If this wasn’t reality, James would’ve enjoyed such sight and count this as his family friendly wet dream.

“Who was it?”

“Sirius,” James answered “He wanted to check up on me. Said I disappeared last night. I didn’t tell him anything, don’t worry.”

She nodded, “So what are we to do now?”

“I don’t know.” James says, defeated that he has no proper answer to give her “I— Lily and I were supposed to meet at the venue. She doesn’t know that I was planning to propose. I guess I can just bullshit my way and say that this is just a dress ring and it’s stuck on me for the moment.”

“Alright,” She bobs her head in understanding “Then what about me? What am I to tell people? Cause people will ask.”

“Well, maybe you can just lie and say that you recently got engaged? At least until we can figure out a way to get that ring out of your finger.”

“But I don’t have a partner. If I do and I just recently got engaged, shouldn’t my fiancé be my plus one? People will ask more questions about his wherebeing.”

“Well, do you have any better excuse? Fire away, I’m open for suggestions.”

She rolls her eyes, finding his sarcastic response to be the very least helpful, “Fine, I’ll do that.”

James watches as she begins to collect her purse and jacket that was scattered on the carpeted floor. He tries to bite down the slight satisfaction of hearing that she was single. He knew that it was wrong to feel this way and it has been years since they met, surely she’s dated other people after their separation, but to know that she wasn’t bound with anyone the moment they had their reunion sparked something inside him. Something that he knew was so sinful that he would never be able to atone.

“Can you check if the hallway is clear? I don’t want to meet anyone as I come out of your door.”

James nods, peeking out of the empty hall before turning back to her with a nod.

“Don’t talk to me, don’t look at me, don’t even breathe my way at the venue.” She said to him, finger firmly pointing at him in a threatening manner “I will hex you to death right on the spot if you do.”

He scoffs, rolling his eyes, “Don’t flatter yourself.”

She gave him a glare one last time before leaving his suite. James could finally let out the breath he unconsciously held once he was left alone. He walks back to his bed, sitting on it and hating the fact that her perfume lingers on its cover. Now he wouldn’t be able to shake the sweet scent off of his mind, even if he was to obliviate himself to it. But then again, what is a wedding without some drama, right?

#james potter #james potter imagine #james potter imagines #james potter scenario #james potter scenarios #james potter fanfic #james potter fanfiction #james potter angst #james potter fluff #james potter oneshot #james potter x reader #james potter x you #james potter x oc #james potter x y/n

366 notes · View notes

oceanlue · 7 months ago

Note

spicy idea but could you write about the yv boys getting their fingers sucked? (this could be sfw too maybe)

Fingers 🖐🏻

Alphonse 🧁 🍭

You were in the kitchen baking some cupcakes and also making some icing for the cupcakes it was going to be a red velvet cupcakes with cream cheese icing

Alphonse wanted to come help you so he came into the kitchen it was helping with the icing mixing and adding some ingredients

As you finish the cupcakes and put them away for the shop there was still some icing left and alfons being a little sneaky is tried some icing you already put the spatula into the sink so he used his fingers instead

He offered you the bowl since he had some on his fingers but you decide to be a cheeky little sneaker and eat the icing that was on his fingers it was a little bit hot for him to see you do that but he didn't mind

" oh boo if you wanted something sweet we could have gone upstairs and I can make you something real sweet and it won't be cupcakes"

Seth 🏕 🍂

Seth was helping you in the kitchen making some Cinnabons because ever since you started making them he can't get enough of them but he doesn't eat them all the time

You told him how to make them from scratch and this was a lovely evening the weather outside was perfect autumn Breeze and everything in the house was nice and perfect so why not make some Cinnabons

As you were putting the Cinnabons into the oven you taught him how to make the icing for the cinnamon buns

And as the Buns were done and you waited for a bit before pouring the icing on Seth got some icing on his fingers and hands and was going to go wash them off before you stopped him and then start licking his hands he was shocked what you did but he didn't mind one bit

" damn sugar never knew you can do that with your mouth how about me and you can go upstairs and let these Cinnabons cool down and you can put that mouth to good use"

Finn 🌻🪴

Sin was making some food for a potluck that he was invited to and his Orchid was helping him make it too you guys were making a nice warm soup a cauliflower soup to be exact and it was delicious

And he was going to have some trouble bringing it into the car so you helped him with that as you put the pot into the car he got some soup on his hands it didn't burn him but it was really messy

He walked back in saw you doing dishes and ask if he can use the sink to wipe his hand off instead of allowing him to wipe his hand you brought his hand to your mouth and licked the remaining soup off his hand after you were done you said "tasty"

" Orchid that was very s..shameful......... what you did but if you want to continue I wouldn't mind being late to the potluck today"

Auron 🖊 ☕

Auron decided that today's date will be just inside his penthouse he wanted you to teach him how to make a specific kind of dessert of course you said yes because who wouldn't spend a nice evening with a hunk of man like him

As you got into his Penthouse he was wearing his casual clothes that you made him get when you guys went shopping because apparently to you he doesn't have normal clothes

Honestly you did thought he looked very hot In Those Jeans and the way they tightened around his bottom really made you think you were the right person to get him those jeans

I'm not sure he was wearing even though it was black complimented his figure his man boobs his six pack is nice waist hips everything about this man was screaming

But anyways you taught him how to bake from scratch and nice cheesecake, strawberry cheesecake

And when you guys were having fun they're on smiled again showing off is beautiful smile as beautiful face

And as you guys are putting away all the things to let the cheesecake cool down and kind of went in the gutter and swiped some cheesecake cream out of the bowl and pointed it towards you and saying "suck"

You did and after he took his fingers out of your mouth you said tasty

" you know real if you wanted me that bad all you had to do was ask and don't think I didn't notice when you were looking at my ass earlier I think you did this on purpose when you wanted me to wear these jeans I think I should give you a punishment rook"

-------------------

Sorry this took so long things have been busy

Hope you like it

Peace out

💙💙💙

#yuurivoice #yuurivoice auron #oceanlue #spotify #yuurivoice finn #yuurivoice alphonse #yuurivoice seth

92 notes · View notes