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syrupgirl · 1 year

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Request:

Could u write a fic ab Sully family x y /n reader? Where she lives with the sully family after her parents died, she gets taken by the colonel in the forest and is set up for bate because he knows she important to the Sully family.

a/n: the way I interpreted this, reader is taken by herself rather than what happens in the film where all of the kids get taken. I did use the rough layout of the scene for inspo but it does diverge from cannon ie Neteyam is with the kids when they get discovered. I hope that’s similar enough to what you mean. also reader is na’vi and around Neteyam’s age :p

Sullys stick together -The Sully family

“Catch me if you can!” Tuk yelled. Her little feet pattering along the branch of an enormous tree, while you and the rest of the Sully children chased her for sport.

She giggled delightedly, dodging out of the way of Lo’ak’s hand.

You really weren’t supposed to be out this far. Too close to the battlefield Jake had said. To close to where the sky people had already begun laying their claim on Pandora. Not if the Na’vi had anything to say about it.

But oh, it was such a beautiful day, almost no clouds in the sky, Kenten floated around you with the unfurled fan necks slowing their descent. Who wouldn’t want to get carried away with the day?

Suddenly, little Tuk ran into the trunk of a tree and startled back, falling on her butt. Kiri rushed forward and kneeled beside her, rubbing her back.

“Oh Tuk, are you ok? Are you hurt?” Kiri asked, ever the nurturer.

Tuk rubbed her nose and sniffed, tiny little tears blooming in her eyes. “Yeah, just got a fright, that’s all.”

Kiri helped the youngest sully stand up and continued to comfort her. Tuk reassured her sister that she was ok and Kiri relented. Tuk then wandered off to continue her little adventure.

“Wait, guys! Look!” Lo’ak whisper shouted.

Everyone looked to the direction he was pointing. Spider’s eyes widened and he even gasped a little.

“Wow, bro. That’s where my dad and your dad fought, right?” He asked Neteyam.

Neteyam didn’t answer right away, looking almost sheepish. “Yeah, bro.”

Lo’ak looked like he could barely keep still, a giddy grin upon his face.

“Well c’mon! Let’s have a look inside!” He was about to spring up when you put a firm hand on his shoulder.

“No way! We have no idea what’s in there, there could be some old tech still active, or…I don’t know, some angry beast!”

Despite not being a blood member of the Sulky family, after Jake and Neytiri took you under their wing and growing up with them for so long cemented your place among them as family. You were as much Neteyam’s sister as Tuktirey was.

Despite not being a blood member of the Sully family, they listened to you and cared about what you had to say, or that’s what you thought.

“That’s why we have our knives, skxawng.” And with that Lo’ak got you to sprint to the abandoned lab. Well, he would’ve had it not been for the tussling of the bushes opposite where you were all crouching.

“Sit down!” Neteyam gritted out, he grabbed his younger brother by the back of his neck and yanked him back down beside him. Lo’ak started to protest, talking about how it was probably some harmless animal. The sound of voices shut him down. Voices speaking in, english.

You were confused. Sky people should not have gotten this far out without drawing attention of the clan. Neteyam motioned for everyone to be still and you all watched on as the voices got closer.

Neteyam turned on his comms and started speaking to Jake. You could guess what he was saying; do not engage, retreat, stay low and out of sight. All very good suggestions in your opinion.

You kept your gaze intently to the direction of the voices, just waiting for them to pop out so you could get a good look at them and hopefully get some answers to your burning questions.

For better or for worse your questions were answered sooner than you thought.

Aside from the speaking english, the only thing that gave them away for being avatar and not Na’vi was the tactical gear. They were fully decked out. A few of them had arms decorated with tattoos and…sunglasses, Jake had called them.

They slowly approached the abandoned lab with guns raised and eyes everywhere. You all ducked down further once you realised you were way out of your league. Unarmed humans you might be able to handle. Armed humans, definitely more difficult but you had done it before, but avatar who were armed to the teeth along with the strength and speed of the na’vi made for a dangerous mix. You all watched as they searched through the building, overturning the insides of it.

“Come on, dad is on his way, he told us to fall back.” Neteyam’s urged all of you, gesturing into the forest behind him.

“What? No! This is our- my chance to prove to dad that I can help! I can be an asset to the people!”

Neteyam and Lo’ak continued to bicker when you noticed Kiri looking around, looking around desperately.

“Kiri?” you asked, “what’s wrong?”

The girl looked almost brought to tears when she looked up to you.

Her voice trembled, “Where is Tuk?”

Oh god.

She had disappeared before Lo’ak had picked up on the lab.

No one had seen her since.

Kiri clasped her hands around her mouth, she looked about as scared as you felt. God, little Tuktirey.

Abruptly, the group of avatars in front of you trained their guns on clump of trees of to your right. You had heard the sound too, a snap of a small branch or twig. Whatever had stepped on it was light.

Light enough to be Tuk.

The hostiles started to walk toward the noise. It’s like you were watching them in slow motion. Off to the side you could see Kiri’s eyes widen, horror flashed across her face. Spider had a similar expression, his eyebrows upturned in the centre. Lo’ak and Neteyam had stopped their fighting and just looked scared out of their own minds. Neteyam for once didn’t have a solution for everything.

So you did the only thing you could think of. A stupid, stupid thing looking back on it, a stupid thing parading itself as bravery. You scrunched your face, said a silent prayer to Eywa to deliver Tuk to safety and to give you strength for whatever was to happen.

You lept out from behind the log and dashed out of cover.

The avatars snapped their attention to you and raised their guns, but you kept charging towards them. Unsheathing the small knife you kept on you at all times, you cried out.

An avatar with short cropped hair on the top of his hair held out his hand and caught you around the neck. He didn’t hold you tight enough to strangle you, but tight enough that you couldn’t escape. He lifted you up into the air like you were fresh prey.

You struggled and snarled, trying to get your knife in any part of him that you could reach.

“Well, well, well, lookie here…” Quaritch chuckled darkly. He motioned for his squad to lowers their guns and the obeyed, observing their colonel with obvious amusement. It made you sick, you probably outwardly grimaced.

“I’ve seen you somewhere before.” He muttered. Quaritch made a show of ‘hmmm’ing and scratching his chin in fake thought. “Ah yes, i’ve seen your runnin’ around with the Sully spawn. You’ve been causin’ a lot of trouble, you and those other brats.”

You pretended not to understand him, opting to keep snapping and thrashing at him. It was not a complete lie; while Jake had taught you some basic english, you could probably only form the sentences of a small human child.

“The thing looks feral…” A teammate muttered from behind the colonel and the squad laughed.

“Don’t be fooled, soldier. These Na’vi can be quite clever when they put their heads together.” The colonel responded.

Thinking of your family behind you, you hoped and prayed that they had retreated back with Tuktirey.

Quaritch lowered you to the ground but before you tried to make a break for it, he wove his fingers through your hair and pulled hard.

You bit your teeth to stifle a scream and reached up to attempt to pry his hand off of your head.

“I know that there’s more of you back there, in the tree line, so you behave and my team will leave them be.” Fear flooded you at that, hearing that this man knew you weren’t alone. With a snap of his fingers he could have you all held hostages. So you stilled. You rested your hands back at your sides and begrudgingly set your gaze on him.

The avatar holding you smiled.

“Children o’ Sully! You listen here,” he spoke in english before switching into what seemed to be pretty broken na’vi, “you tell your father to come here, and this girl will be returned unharmed in exchange for his compliance.”

At least he didn’t know Neteyam had already been in contact with both Jake and Neytiri. If they just pretended to leave, Jake and Neytiri would think of a plan. Like they always do.

The bushes where everyone was hiding rustled. Quaritch tensed and the avatars behind you raised their guns once more, but the bushes stilled, no other came from it.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. You hoped that they had gone back home or at least taken Tuk back.

“Alright everyone, I’m guessing we can expect Jake Sully and his mate getting here pretty soon.” He drawled, turning to face his team. “Get ready for an attack. Be on your guard and keep your new eyes and ears sharp.”

Jake and Neytiri quietly dismounted their Ikran and armed themselves. Neytiri looked as if she was shaking with rage, her mouth downturned and her eyes looking for a threat.

“Hey, I’m sure they’re all fine. They’re tough kids, they’re our kids which make them tougher.” Jake attempted a joke but it died out in the silence when Neytiri did not respond.

They hadn’t landed far from where Neteyam told them they were and they were almost silent as they crept forward into the thicket.

A flutter of motion from they’re left has Neytiri’s bow drawn and aimed at the spot.

“Mom! It’s just us! It’s me, Lo’ak!” Lo’ak revealed himself from his hiding spot, arms raised and Neytiri breathed a watery sigh.

She rushed forward, took her baby in her arms, and held him tightly. Lo’ak wrapped his arms around her neck and squeezed. From behind him, Neteyam and spider emerged too, looking a little more embarrassed. Jake looked at his eldest and frowned.

“Where are your sisters?” He asked. Neytiri finally set Lo’ak down and gasped a little, noticing the absence of three of the Sully children.

“Kiri took Tuktirey back home and..” Neteyam looked ashamed, “yn was taken.”

His mother squeezed her eyes closed. Even if you weren’t born of her, you were her daughter. The idea of you being taken, as bait no less, had her heart in her stomach and her chest alight with anger.

Jake sighed and his face turned stony. “You all stay here, stay hidden, while we clean up your mess.” He whispered. The boys wilted and sunk back.

Your legs were starting to ache with how long you had been standing and your scalp with how hard the grip he had on your hair.

The man who had been holding you earlier passed you off to another one of his teammates, who seemed to take liberties in yanking your hair every once and a while.

The once clear sky had filled with clouds and rain trickled down through the canopy above you. No one had spoken in a long time, like everyone was holding their breath.

Suddenly, your ear twitched and you flicked your eyes to where you had heard…something. It could just be the sounds of the forest, an animal eating a plant or a ripe piece of fruit hitting the earth, but this sound sounded out of place, made my something not of the forest.

You caught a glimpse of something blue ducking behind the trunk of a wide tree. They had been holding what looked like a bow. Neytiri!

You shut your eyes and thanked Eywa for delivering you a mother as magnificent and brave as her.

Everything was still for a while and you wondered why Neytiri hadn’t taken a shot. Had she left? In an attempt to look like you were getting drowsy, you slumped a back into the avatar holding you. Your head hit his chin as you did so. He shoved you forward again, tugging your hair as he did so.

That’s why she hadn’t taken a shot, there was too much of a risk of hitting you. You looked up to where you had seen her before and caught her eyes. She had been staring at you intently the whole time, waiting for an opening.

So you gave her one.

You hoped she understood what you tried to say in a single look.

Saying another silent prayer to Eywa, you grabbed the arm that wasn’t gripping your hair, brought it up to your mouth, and bit down as hard as you could.

The man screamed, “You little bitch!”

Thankfully, on instinct he let go of your head and you had just enough time to duck out of the way before an arrow hit him straight between the eyes.

Twigs and leaves crunched beneath your feet and you made a break into the forest. You didn’t dare look back behind you. Gunshots rang through the air, some even whizzed past you.

Just as you jumped over the fallen trunk of a tree, an arm caught you from the side. You fought against it, landing a blow against whoever’s face had snatched you.

They groaned and let you go.

“Be calm! It’s just me!” Spider said as he held his now bloody nose.

You gasped and reached out to touch his face. “Oh Spider, I’m so sorry. You scared me!”

He shook his head a little before standing up, offering you a hand. “It’s fine, let’s go. Lo’ak and Neteyam already left.”

You took his hand and the two of you ran through the forest together. Never daring to look back.

When Jake and Neytiri returned, you knew you were all in for it.

You and your siblings listened outside of their tent, listening to them argue. You held Tuk to you, you didn’t want her to hear what they were saying but she insisted, so all you could do was let her know she wasn’t alone.

Jake stormed out of the tent and you all pretended to be looking at anything else. Smooth.

“yn, get over here.” He ordered. Lo’ak patted you on the back and walked away with the others.

“That stunt you pulled!? That’s not on, okay? It was stupi-!”

You interrupted him, “What I did was stupid, but I don’t regret it. If I hadn’t, Tuk would have been in my position and I couldn’t stand by and watch that happen, sir.” Jake was silent at that. The same stern look painted across his face and his eye twitched.

You stood your ground.

He stood his. For a while.

Until he broke.

The hard look he had softened and he just looked like a tired dad. You realised how stressed he must be, knowing that an old enemy was back and would go through his family to get him. He though he had lost Neteyam earlier this week, and now his daughter? You could have sympathy for him.

You approached him and wrapped your arms around his broad chest. “I’m sorry, dad. I’m sorry for worrying you.”

It felt as if his chest buckled at that and he returned your hug.

“Don’t ever scare me like that again. Alright, soldier?”

You smiled up at him and gave him a. mock salute.

“Yes, sir.”

#i can’t tell if i over wrote #sully family #avatar x reader #sullys x reader #jake sully x reader #neytiri x reader #neteyam x reader #lo’ak x reader #kiri x reader #spider x reader #avatar 2 #avatar way of water #avatar fanfiction #avatar imagine #sully family imagine

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chronically-ghosted · 21 days

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iron and charcoal

rating: explicit 18+ pairing: pero tovar x f!reader word count: 6.9K summary: Sana sana culito de rana. Si no sana hoy, sanará mañana. But there would be no tomorrow. No future, no light of dawn – not without – Her. He’d never heal because tomorrow would never come. OR Pero falls hard for a princess and doesn’t know what to do with himself on your wedding night. warnings: angst, brief classism/xenophobia two very stubborn people, pero experiences one Human Emotion and cannot fully process it, arranged marriage, yearning, smut LIKE WOW, soft!pero that i broke my own heart with a/n: Thank you so much to @perotovar for this request: "congrats on your milestone, my love! so happy for you <33 i'm sending a little astrology 💫 + pero & #6 on the fluffy list OR #1 on the smutty list (whichever is speaking to you), because i wanna see your take on him 👀” – of course I chose the slutty one, just for you 😉 I’m actually pretty proud of this one - please consider reblogging if you like it too!

*the image in the header is for aesthetic purposes only and does not reflect the appearance of the reader*

🤍Masterlist 🤍Pero Tovar Masterlist

💜come see what else we've done to celebrate 1K followers

Sana sana culito de rana. Si no sana hoy, sanará mañana.

Sometimes before battle, the clatter inside Pero’s head goes silent. It listens. It waits.

Other times, it roars. Memories of family, of dead amigos, of mujeres he fucked – they all buck and scratch for a chance to blaze across his mind like a dust storm kicked up by an unbroken mustang.

He doesn’t know which one he prefers or which one will win out. They both have their uses, necessary states of mind to survive whatever is barreling towards him – an ax, a monster out of legend, some other drunken mercenary he intentionally pissed off. It’s an unconscious decision, yet one that has served him well so far. He wouldn’t be alive today if some deep, primal part of him knew what he needed to live through another battle.

And yet, his own trunk knocking against his hips as he climbed the sickly ostentatious stone steps to the top of the parapet, the handles starting to pinch his fingers, the barest – nearly invisible – tremor in his knees, he cannot fathom, for the life of him, why that singular phrase from his abuela played in his head like water swirling around and around a cenote.

Sana sana culito de rana. Si no sana hoy, sanará mañana.

His inner voice, taking on a myriad of forms, of sounds and voices, never quite standing still, the one companion he could always rely on.

Maybe it was warning him. Dust yourself off, boy, you know exactly how this was going to end.

Sana sana culito de rana. Si no sana hoy, sanará mañana.

But there would be no tomorrow. No future, no light of dawn – not without –

Her.

He’d never heal because tomorrow would never come.

He feels sweat escape from the nape of curls at his neck, his cheeks warm and chest hot. Two more flights, he can manage two more flights.

His abuela also liked to tell him something else: if hell doesn’t get him, his pride certainly will.

It’s certainly what got him into this ridiculous farce in the first place. Because he can’t alchemize whatever is in his gut into vocalized syllables, he instead has to climb a truly incalculable amount of stairs, while carrying a ragged, torn trunk that weighs as much as his armor.

Because he can’t form the right words, any words, about what he carries lodged beneath his breastbone for her. What draws him up and up and up and up because it’s lighter than hope, makes him lighter than air, and yet it clogs him up, chokes him out all the same. His pride, his vanity, cuts through it, through her – enough to keep him tongueless and dry but not enough to offer this lightness in his chest to her, for her. He can’t take the light out of him or else he fears what he will truly become.

So, he walks, he goes around and around on unforgiving stone steps until finally there is a door. He thinks about waiting, to catch his breath, but he knows he will just as easily turn around and go back the way he came, trunk still heavy and knocking against his hips, and that pride will be the death of him. So he keeps going, opens the handle, and makes abrupt eye contact with the two guards outside her door. They seem uninterested and unamused in his sweaty, stilted breathing, but by his less-than-royal attire, they easily clock him as one of their own; a man who fights to make his way in the world. The one on the left nods jerkily at him.

What they see him as, what he will always be, is nearly the reason he kicks that fucking trunk all the way back down. Instead, he nods back, shoulders rounded, eyes down.

“The princesa - the princess - is requesting the last of her things, to be b-brought up from the stables –,” he clears his throat, “drop this off for her and –,”

“Can’t let you in. King’s orders.” The one on the right sees him as something else – a foreigner first and foremost, their similar stations in life irrelevant. His bright blue eyes rove over Pero’s dark skin, dark hair, jagged scar, distaste and disgust smearing his already ugly features. But he had been dealing with men like these all his life.

“Bueno, you can explain to the King himself why his daughter’s belongings were lost and disregarded. I hear she’s very fond of the Italian prints at the bottom of this . . .”

The guards glance at each other, calculating way above their paygrade. Pero jostles the trunk as if to show he is not above throwing it out the window.

“Fine.” The second one snaps. “Drop it inside and come back immediately.”

He drops his head, a good little foreign boy. “Gracias, señor.”

The heavy wooden door opens beneath the iron lock and the instant he is through, he bolts it behind him. Waits to see if the guards notice. They don’t. Perfectamente – all the time in the world.

All in the time in the world – for what?

To fail? Again?

He stows the trunk in front of the door, extra time, a few seconds maybe – as if she wouldn’t just tell him to get out the instant she laid eyes on him. Only time will tell.

Out of the atrium, another door, this one set deep into the wall. A last line of defense. He knocks, once, then twice, then waits. El orgullo chokes him again but fuck it, he’s come this far. He knocks again, knocks something in his chest free and, with it, spill the words:

“Princesa? It’s me. I –,” it throttles him, “princesa, can you open the door?”

Silence. His heart sits, buried in that trunk. Then –

“It’s unlocked, Pero.”

His heart in his throat, he opens the door to presumably what will be your marriage bed. And yet, by the state of things, you could have been moving out of it. Trunks and bags stack high against the far wall – those fucking trunks he made such a scene over because the unnecessary weight would slow them all down remain untouched, arranged as they had been when they had been first brought in. He didn’t quite know what to make of that, his thumb absently pressing into the callus of his other hand as he glanced around. It is a beautiful room – tall windows, etched in scarlet drapes, to match the scarlet curtains around the bed. With gold thread and impossibly detailed paintings of the countryside, it is fit for a princess, a some-day queen. This is where someone with royal blood deserved to be, not in the back of a hot carriage for weeks on end, surrounded by dirty, loud, rough men.

And yet, with your hair down, expansive gown from the ball tonight replaced with a simple cotton dress, you could not have been more out of place. Pero’s heart lurches briefly, moisture seeping from his mouth, as he realizes this is the same dress he bought you when the two of you had been accidentally separated by the caravan and your previous dress had been ruined in the mud. He had no idea you still kept it, much less wore it ever again.

But if anyone asked him, you look more beautiful in this than any silk or velvet.

Instead of unpacking, settling into your new home and eventual role as wife, you sit hunched over at the intricately carved mahogany desk, eagle feather quill scratching against parchment. You finish with a flourish and look over your shoulder at him, your eyes annoyingly unreadable.

“Yes?”

A stupid brute some may call him, but he wasn’t entirely without awareness. Observation of your customs and what you considered inappropriate only encouraged him: if you really didn’t want him here, you would never have let him see you in this state.

But it’s hard to remember that under your icy stare.

“Y-your things, Princesa. The last from the caravan.”

Your eyes slide over him, to the trunk in the shadows of the atrium. He can tell from a single glance that you know as well as he that trunk is not yours, that no one told him to come here with it, and yet he did it all the same. Something flashes over your eyes but it’s gone by the time you meet his gaze again.

“Thank you. I am, as always, indebted to you.”

He hates your words, but warmth spreads in his gut at the way you say it. That’s how it’s always been between you and him – saying one thing but meaning another. He’d never appreciated a sharp mind like yours until he realized you wield it as he wields a sharp sword.

There are many things he’d never even dreamed of before he met you.

“Then, this means you’re leaving, I suppose.” You draw your sword against him. The metal flashes in your eyes as you stand, one hand against the curved tip of your chair. A bronze halo rims your outline, the fire behind you burning bright and hot. He knows if he touched your shoulder, your neck, your skin would be wonderfully warm.

He wets his lips. “Si. Our contract with your father is done.”

You drop his gaze, your lips tightening for a minute, your fingers running through the carvings of wood on the chair. “Even with William in his state? Would it not be better for him to stay and recover? The journey home is –,” you pause, as though someone had thrown a hand over your mouth, “– the journey back east is long.”

All the longer without you.

“William, he is not an idle man. Two days of bedrest is often all he can take.”

You grin, in spite of this thing circling you both. “Unless he finds the nun attending to him beautiful.

“He finds them all beautiful.”

Your smile expands wide across your bright face when you find him smiling at you too.

This – if this is to be his last memory of you (his heart wrenches at the thought) – this is the you he wants imprinted on his soul: smiling and glowing by firelight.

But as quickly as it came, that grin that warms him down to his bones, fades. In an instant, your eyes grow soft, your mouth twisted, jaw tight.

“Where will you go?” you ask, in the quietest voice you’d ever addressed him with.

It pains him, physically aches within him, to hear the distress in your voice. He hasn’t even thought about the next contract, the next royal cabrón who intends to yank him all across God’s green earth to perform a task he can’t be fucked to take on himself. How can he possibly answer you? Nowhere, without you. To rot in a dark hole in the ground? Off a cliff? What answer would provide you or him any sort of satisfaction?

“Wherever the coin goes,” he says and the words scrape his tongue like bile. That ache in his chest spiraling rapidly, deep into his gut – like a poisoned limb he cannot amputate – he does the same thing he always does when he’s hurt: he makes others hurt until they leave him alone. “You do not have to worry, princesa, your new husband will keep you in such comfort you will never wonder where the coin comes from.”

He must be a truly sick man, for the knife-sharp glare you throw at him only knots arousal around the base of his spine. It tugs on something attached directly to his groin which, in turn, yanks the next words out of his mouth.

“He looked especially happy with you in his arms on the dance floor tonight.”

The icy shards in your eyes go brittle and crack. His heart races; he’s overplayed his hand.

“You watched me dance?”

“All guardsmen were required to –,”

You shake your head, eyes bright and searing through him. “No. It was only the King’s Knights there in attendance.”

Your hand trailing off the edge of the chair, you take a step forward and he feels his weight shift back onto his heels. But he remains firm.

Sana, sana.

“Pero, why did you come here tonight?”

“To return the last of your things, princesa. What else is there?”

You flinch, as if he had raised his voice to you. What else is there indeed?

“Not even to . . . say goodbye? Sixteen weeks on the road is an awfully long time to be around someone, only for them to . . . leave so soon.”

He locks his knees to keep them from shaking. “Do you wish for me to tell you goodbye, princesa?”

There’s something painfully sad about the way you smile at him. “I wish for whatever would make you happiest.”

Anger roars within him, hungry and hot, like a burn from a white flame. Why can’t you just admit it? Why do you avoid it time and time again? He knows he hasn’t misread anything you’ve sent his way, so why? Why are you so vested in torturing him this way?

“Coin makes me happy and, now that I have it, there’s nothing to keep me here.”

There, that hurts you too, just as he meant it.

“Then leave.” They could make ice fortresses out of the strength of your bone-cold stare. “If you have nothing else to say, then take your goddamn trunk and get out of my sight.”

The flame scorches him, ripping him apart and in his anger, making him cruel.

He bows to you.

“I imagine you will be very happy with your new husband, ranita.”

The term slips from his lips before he can stop it, but his throat and cheeks blister so badly, he physically can’t open his mouth to correct his mistake. Instead, he turns and strides towards the door.

He thinks he hears a gasp from behind him, a sharp sound like breaking glass – small, tinkling, tragic. It spears him through his chest, pierces his heart.

He gets to the door and pauses.

If you have nothing else to say . . .

Of course he has something to say – words in English and Spanish and broken dialects gathered like poisonous lichen all churning in the boiling cauldron of his mind, but nothing will suffice – nothing reflects or compares to the grief he is already feeling, the despair, the anguish that has settled into all the fleshy joints in his body. Not his pride, but this, saying goodbye to you, this is what actually will kill him.

Every word imaginable crawls up his throat and rages in his mouth, presses up against his teeth, begging for something, anything to be let out, to be free, to tell you that he cannot fucking live without you–

Nothing comes through, but one single word.

“Don’t.”

The fire crackles in the silence, a wicked god pleased at the display of carnage.

“What did you say?”

A dull thud echoes from where he drops his forehead against the wood of the door, all anger flooding out of his system. Do you have any idea the power you hold over him? One request, one tremor in your voice and his knees all but buckle at your altar.

Fuck it.

He always thought he’d go out in a blaze of bloody glory, but he’d never expected to be so exposed, so flayed like this.

“Don’t,” he repeats, his throat as dry as sand. “Do not . . . marry him. Please.”

The vision of your great warrior slumped against the door frame, his neck bent, shoulders curled up to his ears has your already pounding heart leaping forward into a gallop. He is defeated, laid low. You watch his guts all but pool out on your hearth.

He looks about as hopeless and anguished as you feel.

Your soldier, your man of iron and charcoal, goes blurry in your eyes.

“And what would you have me do, Pero?” Your plea is damp, malleable at the edges. You press your hand flat against your chest, near your throat, as if you could pull the grief lodged there with your fingers. “I have been engaged to this man before I was even born. How can I stop this?”

“Fight.” The word snarls against his bare teeth. He turns, his eyes liquid ink, and suddenly he has you by the shoulders. His thumbs nervously skitter around the curve of your shoulder, gaze just as unsteady and unfocused as it wavers between your hands, your earlobe, your neck. "Where is my brave girl who fights for what she wants, hm? Fight – for me, please.”

Fight, he asks – but in spite of him or because of him?

You lay your hands on the silver shine of his breastplate, watch as they rise and fall with his steady flow of breath. How many nights had you woken up against that shine, in the crook of his arm for warmth, or protection? You didn’t cherish it at the time because you never knew when it would be your last.

“Why won’t you fight, princesa?” His voice is low, strained, the groan of a wagon wheel before it breaks. You meet his gaze and the exposed look on his face, softening every line on his mouth and around his eyes, nearly sends you into hysterics. You swallow the tears, swallow the hook in your throat as your fingers curl around the clasps of his cape.

"Because if I don't fight then I can't lose.” His fingers slip from your shoulders, to your elbows, to your waist. You inhale and the scents of warm leather, oil, and ash flood your mouth. The tip of your nose is inches from the scruff of beard against his cheek, the ruddy brown of his sun-drenched skin. He has curled you into him and this, you do not fight either. His massive palms map your back, against your skin, but without any urgency or control. “If I can’t lose, that means I don’t lose you. You'll just be . . . gone."

That last word is a lie. It hangs in the air like a sweltering humid rain and you both know you’re lying. He has you wrapped up in his arms, you didn’t stop him even for a second, and you are all too aware that it would take some great, insidious alchemy to ever truly tear him out of you.

You stare at his silver collar, defiant against the waves you had managed to shackle down until this very moment: a wave of hopeless crashes into you, a wave of heartbreak, a wave of helpless that fills your eyes to the point of spilling with that very same salt water.

He touches your cheek delicately, fingers rough with callouses, and the floodgates break open with a sob.

“Preciosa,” he rumbles softly against your hairline, “hush. You break my heart with your tears.”

“Do not mock me, Tovar. Not now.” you sniff, trying to turn your face but his wide hands catch you around the cheeks.

“You are beyond mocking. I’d show you my heavy heart but I do not wish that weight on anyone.” The snag of his rough thumbs against your cheek draws your watery gaze to him. His mouth is a flat line, barred against whatever climbs his throat, but his eyes move like mercury across your nose, your eyelashes, the arch of your cheek. Your fingers wrap themselves around his wrists, a grounding agent against the waves that threaten to pull you under.

“Pero, I –,”

“I have fought you, tooth and nail, for days without end. Every favor, every breath, you have forced them from me. I fight my own mind when I sleep at night. Sueños, always of the same woman.” He smears away the tears with his thumbs, gently, sweetly, before pressing his lips to your wet flesh by his knuckle. He inhales deeply, eyes closed, mouth hovering stationary above the skin of your cheek. “You fight me every step of the way . . . and I am so tired of fighting.”

For all your struggling, for all your tearing and clawing and snarling against the blooming in your chest, nothing is as easy as it is to turn your head and press your lips to his.

The brush of his bristled mustache against your upper lip. His warm, rough palms holding you steady. His lips soft and hot. You are overwhelmed by the scent of him.

There is nothing like, and nothing will ever be like, finally kissing Pero Tovar.

All it takes is the movement of his hands from your cheeks to your lower back, the light trace of his tongue against your lips, and the yearning you’d been smothering for weeks now roars to life. His hands squeeze your hips and you can suddenly barely breathe.

“Pero–,” the noise in the shape of his name that escapes you is near a whine, begging. He nips at your lips, hand firmly at the cup of your jaw, mouth now rough and insistent, and your fingers claw up his neck, wrapping themselves in his dark curls. You tug, nails scratching his scalp, and he groans into your mouth as if you’d just kneed him in the gut.

A thread-bare gasp of your name from his lips splits you from him, then his hand on your hip and the back of your neck pushing you backwards gives you enough air to breathe – to think.

"Your husband will know you're not a virgin,” Pero warns, breathing hard and fast, his eyes like black flints, “if we go on."

You curl your fingers around his neck, dragging your mouth near his jaw, the soft skin at the edge of his ear.

"Then he will also know my heart is not his either.” You ask everything of him with this. His armor blocks his warm body from you – you want to sink inside his hard shell. “If you’ll have it.”

He is not himself, half-human with an inhuman want, with the snarl that leaves him.

“Don’t make such promises, dulzura –,” A threat, a dog forced to expose its underbelly, fear radiating like the pain from a broken bone. Your fingers dig into the buckles of his cape, steadying you against a sudden terrible awareness that bloomed, purple-bruised.

“Unless you don’t want –,”

The desk rattles when your hips break against it, the force of his kiss enough to topple over your inkwell, spill rolls of parchment to the floor. The wood groans under your weight when he gathers the thick swell of your thighs in his hands, heaves you onto the flat surface, and spreads your knees around his waist. He is as hard as the iron on his chest.

“Can you feel how much I want you?”

A frantic sigh of relief, a groan shared between two pairs of lips, seeking skin and warmth and other hungry places.

He drags you onto his chest, your skirt bunched up around your hips, the rings of his armor digging into the soft flesh of your thighs, his mouth covering yours in wet pulls, and he stands up right, as though you weighed less than his sword.

A stumble, and he spreads you out on the velvet covers of your marriage bed, his hands imprinting on your hips, your knees, the supple meat of your calves. The touch of him on your bare skin feels like the licks of flames, the smoke of arousal blurring your awareness and dragging your eyelids half-closed. On his heels at the edge of the bed, the flint shards of his eyes drift over the bones of your ankles, the bend of your knee, your heaving chest, hair in snarls around your neck and caught behind your back, and finally to your cunt, hidden by the folds of your dress.

Velvet hums as you slide your ankles to the curve of your ass, widening your legs, parting your knees. His lips part open, dark want etching every line of his face. You feel the wet linen of your dress cling to your achy cunt. He swallows, unbuckling his cape one latch at a time, his eyes nowhere else. The metal clatters as it falls to the floor.

Piece by piece, the chinks in his armor fall away. Piece by piece, he is revealed to you. Your hands rise up, up your thighs to your knees, your thumbs rubbing soft circles. He watches, never tears his gaze away from your sticky hole, his nimble fingers working away the buckles and knots with practiced precision. You can see it in his eyes – memories of bedrolls by firelight, of such a deep painful, yearning ache, separated only by thin tarp, they are a physical weight beside you in this marriage bed.

You see them because they’re there for you too. You see them because you've been here a dozen times, on your back, legs spread wide, your hands circling but never dipping, waiting. Wanting. For him.

His bare chest is warm, the wings of his ribs expanding around short, half-drawn breaths, as he crawls up into your pliant mouth. The kisses are slow, like before, with a crackle of heat just beyond them, his hips slipping into the cradle of your thighs, the wet warmth of you separated by the thin linen of your dress. He sucks the tendon below your ear, a whine slipping out of your mouth, fingers spreading over the harsh planes of his back, and his cock bobs against your thigh.

Pero is bare and warm and entirely yours. All man beneath the sweltering armor.

“Amorcita,” he drips into your ear, kisses smeared against your collarbone, your mouth, your earlobe, “amorcita, amorcita . . . ranita, let me take you.”

He starts to use teeth, a harder nip behind his kisses, when he dips down to your chest. A wide palm with stocky fingers grasps at your breast and it’s a startling sensation for you both.

“Soft,” he moans before licking up under the supple curve of your breast, mouthing at what his tongue missed. He slips your erect nipple into his mouth and twists it between his teeth. “Sweet,” he murmurs with your nipple firmly between his lips.

This is unlike anything you’ve felt before. You deliriously thank the gods that he hadn’t touched you like this on the road; you would have kept him, your own wild animal, in bed without rest for days on end.

Pero plucks just as aggressively at your other breast, the spit-wet nipple that preoccupied his mouth verging on purple and aching. He cups you from the outside this time, squeezing and massaging, ringing your nipple with his tongue until your back bows and you let out a whine that has his eyes flickering up to you, the scent of wounded prey filling his nostrils.

That whine of pleasure elongates into a whimper: “please.”

“Tranquila, ranita.” His touch is softer around your bruised tits, but he keeps one hand bagging the weight of your breast while the other slips beneath your skirt.

The pads of his fingers brush your creamy cunt and with a yelp, you grab him by the wrist, your eyes open with a familiar emotion he draws out of you: rage.

“Pero Tovar, if you value your life you will take me under the covers and put your —,”

He chuckles, his cheek against yours, nose rimming the velvet hairs on the ridges of your ear. The vibrations liquify the tension in your bones, loosening your grip. Your eyes flutter, slick obviously running down his fingers. “Ranita, I don’t think you know how you want to end that sentence..”

His words roll like honey over the heat of your skin. It makes your skin tremble. Your grip tightens on his wrist and you roll your hips, your swollen clit finally relieved by the pressure of his palm.

“Oh, oh, Pero—,”

With a grunt, he shuffled closer, elbow by your shoulder and he cups your entire wet cunt in his hand, pushing the heel of his palm flatter against you. You cry out, a sparkling kind of pleasure radiating out from where his hand rests. You buck your hips faster, complete release flickering through your outstretched hand.

“Can you come like this?” You nod, eyes squeezed shut as you barrel towards escape, and you feel him shudder next to you. You are intimately aware that he’s rubbing his cock on the crease of your hip bone but that only drags you faster towards the light. “Then come, ranita, come and I’ll fuck you.”

The wet, curling heat growing between your legs descends, then in a bright snap, explodes across your body.

“Fuck!” You tear open your eyes to find them damp, Pero’s massive hand cupping your cheek towards him, his stallion eyes dark as his fingers drag on the soaked material of your dress, your hips slowing.

“Amorcita, breathe.” The words are torn from his chest, all cock-suredness gone from his frantic gaze. You gulp in air, the weight of his body over yours grounding and smothering you all at once. He pulls his hand away from you, rides it up your thigh to your waist, looking for something to hold onto. He strokes his thumb once against your overheated skin and you’re wriggling up out of your dress.

“Help,” you hiss and his fingers nearly tear the fabric off you.

With a few undone buttons, you shiver out of your dress, the slick-drenched spots catching on your warm skin. He flings it behind him, near the fireplace.

He takes you barely beneath the thick covers before you welcome him back to the heat of your open legs.

But instead of reeling back and plunging his aching cock into you, he takes the time to kiss you. To praise you in all the ways he fears his mouth will end up short. He kisses you, grateful, reverent – wonderful to be swallowed by but also a distraction.

When he lifts your knees by his waist, your hips automatically tilt towards him and for the first time, you feel his red, sore cock between your tacky lips. The dual sensation nearly drags you over the rack of delectably delicious pleasure, as does his worn, broken groan in your ear.

“More, please, don’t stop.” You cry against the bristles of his beard, his hand dropping between your sweat-slick bodies, finding yours already there to guide him. The press of him spreads you open, filling you one sinking notch at a time. The sensation of your pink, dripping walls moving to take more of him in has you arching up into his chest, nails dragging into his back. His dry lips stifle the moans escaping from your mouth.

Pero takes both of your hands in his, dragging them above your head, his fingers locking your palms together as his hips roll forward. “Cálmate, amorcita, cálmate,” he murmurs between distracted presses of his mouth against your chin, your cheek, his breathing heavy and stunted. You writhe, pinned open by his hips and his hands, his cock filling you all too slowly and not fast enough.

With the last few inches, you take him completely, your cunt throbbing, heart pounding, intoxicated by the sensation of being so maddeningly full. Pero drapes over you, his head tucked into your neck, forearms straining with the tension of gripping your hands tightly.

“Santa madre . . .” He is not a warrior right now. He is but a man, cunt-drunk and heaving.

His name is pushed out of the bottom of your lungs with the first swing of his hips. You cling to him, knees at his ribs, unwilling to let even an inch of space between your bodies. But this becomes increasingly difficult as his thrusts gain speed. His flushed lips stain a sticky line against your jaw, down to your throat, and he releases your hands, the oak of the bed creaking beneath the force of him drilling down into you, he props himself up on his palms, his shoulders bent and curled over you, biceps straining, hairline damp, eyelids fluttering. The scar on his cheek is flushed pink.

“Look, amorcita, look how well you take me.”

His words tear you from your nebulous high, the grit of them forcing your head down to the obscene squelch beneath the sheets. The thatch of rough curls over his groin is drenched in slick, his thick cock soaked to the point of shine as it drives into you again and again. The heavy draft of breath the sight steals from him, the tap of his cock against a place so deep you didn’t know your body possessed, draws the spooling bliss as tight as a wire.

Your trembling thighs squeeze him tighter, that hot pressure rendering you speechless, except for the most pathetic whine. Please, Pero, please, you think, you mutter, you whisper, your body rocking damp against the sheets.

With a sudden snarl, he takes the chunk of your hair at the base of your head flat in his fists and tugs. A shoot of bright pain sparks bliss down to your tight and bruised nipples, and you cry out again.

“Stop fighting, puedo sentir cuanto la quieres. Let me have it.” It is the following word that splits you open like lighting carving apart a tree. “Please.”

The wail that you release is the rush of gooseflesh over your skin alchemized into audible sound. Heat radiates through you, sucking the air from your lungs, your vision going blurry, then black as you clamp your eyes shut against the rush, the final release, that curls you into his arms. His warm, flushed arms, shaking with strain. A final wobbly thrust or two and his elbows are buckling, sweat-drenched chest pressing into your own.

Distantly, you are aware of the warm, slick drip down your thighs, his cock pulsing the last drops into your cum-flecked cunt, and the dangers this sort of intimacy poses. You can’t gather enough breath, enough sense to settle the spinning room, to worry or even care.

Your his, and he is yours. That is all that will ever matter.

The crackle of wood burning is the only other sound than your ragged breaths, the silent roll of sweat from sticky hot skins into the bedsheets. The stone walls of the castle’s room entomb you together for a brief stretch of infinity.

Pero moves and you think he’s going to back out of you, but instead, he merely adjusts, his head fully on your chest, thick fingers clutching your bruised waist, the shift of his cock pushing more of his release out of your oversensitive cunt. But you’ll take overstimulation over his absence every time. You run your fingers through his damp curls and he hums.

“I’m sorry,” he huffs into your humid skin. “I’m sorry I let my pride keep us apart for so long.”

You grin lazily to the ceiling, your breath settling as affection takes its place in your chest.

“You were not the only one blinded by vanity.”

“But I’m not blind. Not anymore.” He lifts his head, eyes as dark as your spilled inkwell. “I am never letting you go.”

You smile at him, fingers soft against the back of his neck. “I don’t plan on wandering away.”

His oil-black gaze drops to your lips and he leans forward to take your mouth against his. Gentle, but with the promise of more.

“Mi ranita,” he purrs to break the kiss.

“You call me that all the time, Pero. What does it mean?”

At that, a nearly shy expression crosses his face. He shakes his head, shifting onto his elbows to lift off you. “I can’t tell you. It will ruin your good mood.”

You gasp, offended, and you grab him by the ear and twist. He chuckles through a grimace. “You will tell me what that means, Pero Tovar, if you value your appendages.”

“Órale, princesa, retract your claws and I will tell you.”

You release your grip and settle against your pillow. Grinning bashfully, he kisses your neck briefly.

“Remember that I love you after I tell you this.”

Your heart nearly stops, the absence of a steady beat nearly drawing tears to your eyes but you hold firm. You breathe deeply against the fluttering in your stomach and pin him with your glare. Of course, this is how he would profess his love to you – when he’s trying to get out of trouble.

“Tell me, Tovar!”

He chuckles again and preemptively picks up your hands. He kisses the inside of your palms, settling himself between your thighs.

“It means little frog.” Your mouth falls open in a gasp and you struggle to yank your hands back from him, hissing like a tea kettle, but he uses his weight to press down on you. He nips at your nose. “I call you that because when you’re upset with me, much like you are now, you puff up like a bullfrog, your cheeks like this–,”

He rounds his cheeks full of air, crossing his eyes, and you simply cannot take the slight anymore. You push roughly against his gut, the breath trapped in his mouth escaping in a hot puff, and you twist him onto his back. He lets you, of course, his bold, full laughter rendering him defenseless. His body shakes beneath you, his beautiful eyes squeezed shut, his mouth open wide as he laughs and laughs and laughs. You take him by the wrists and push his limp hands over his head, pinning him as he had you. You pinch his chin with your teeth, your messy cunt over his stomach, as his laughter subsides.

“Have you had your fun yet?”

“Barely,” he chuckles, turning his big nose against your cheek and inhaling. He hums.

“Is that all I am to you? A joke?”

Pero opens his eyes, sober as death rattle. He takes you in, not in a hungry, all-consuming way, but in a look that speaks of awe and rapture.

“You are everything to me.”

You sigh, releasing his hands and curling into his chest. He kisses the top of your head, your eyes on the roaring fire. His thumbs rub your shoulder blades, trace the lines of your spine.

“You’re so very lucky I love you too.”

His wandering against the expanse of your back stills, just for a moment, before his fingers slide into your hair, around the nape of your neck, holding you to him with the intention of keeping you there forever.

“I know, ranita, I know.”

He watches you sleep as the sky lightens beyond the tall windows on the opposite side of the bedroom. The dying fire traces your edges in gold, settling heat in the curve of your lips.

His heart lurches with the wanting of you.

There’s more terrible things to come, he knows that. The plan the two of you concocted in the early morning hours will be dangerous, deadly even. But dying together instead of living apart would be much more tolerable, you told him earlier that night, your hand on his chest.

He would kill if you asked. He would kill, even if you didn’t, to keep you safe and by his side. You’ve proven yourself capable of living a life away from this spectacular opulence, but it pains him to know he will never be able to give you anything nearly as lovely as the velvet dresses in the closet, the gold jewelry in your trunks.

Instead, all he has to offer is himself. His strength, his hands, his heart. It’s his own fear that tells him that’s not enough, because you remind him again and again that’s more than you ever wanted.

He traces the curve of your cheek with the hovering pad of his finger, brushing your hair away from your face. How he ended up so lucky with your love, he’ll never know, but he will spend the rest of his days proving that he’s earned it.

You stir in your sleep, sensing him above you, and he hates to steal even a few minutes of blissful sleep from you, knowing the endless nights that are coming. When he steals you away from all that you’ve ever known.

The sleepy grumble in your throat resembles his name as he curls around you, but your eyes remain gently closed. He pulls you against him, the air that leaves your mouth and sits between your chest and his something he covets with his whole heart.

I love you and I’m disgustingly lucky and I love you.

He is a man made of dust, serving men made of silver. He is a man of dust, loving a woman made of gold.

El orgullo? No, Abuela, his ranita will get him first, last, and every time.

Translations:

Sana sana culito de rana. Si no sana hoy, sanará mañana. - This rhyme is typically said to children when they have just hurt themselves. The parent (or grandparent) usually rubs the part that is sore and sings this little tune. Literally translates to: "heal, heal, little frog’s tail. If you don’t heal today, you will heal tomorrow."

el orgullo - pride

dulzura - sweetness, romantic connotation

amorcita - little love, romantic connotation

Tranquila - quiet, as in "be quiet" or "relax"

Cálmate - take it easy, or take it slow

puedo sentir cuanto la quieres - I can feel how much you want it/love it

Órale - okay, or an exclamation expressing approval or encouragement.

ranita - little frog, but you knew that already ;)

the rest are cognates (or familiar words) which you can probably guess the meaning of, but feel free to message me if you don't know!

520 notes · View notes

asmosmainhoe · 5 months

Text

MC draws the brothers

im kinda shy to ask this but, can u make artist!mc drawing brothers and others and them reacting to it?(*´-`)

- @maiitski

Note: This was incredibly fun to write! I also only did the brothers, because I don't write for more than 7 characters in one post

Gender: neutral

Warnings: heavy language

Lucifer

You often draw him when he's working, because then he's absolutely still for hours

At first he doesn't exactly know what you're doing over there with your notebook. The first guess is some kind of study and you're simply looking for some peace and quiet to focus

Once he's done with the mountain of paperwork he walks over to you and glances over your shoulder

Oh wow. The portrait you drew of him looks fantastic and he nods proudly until he notices some special details

"Why are the spots under my eyes so dark?"

"Well, you've been working for hours now."

"I see..my hair looks so disheveled as well."

"You just really need some rest."

A portrait falls out of your notebook when you leave the room and he quickly hides it in one of his drawers. There is no way he won't treasure your hard work

Mammon

To say that it's difficult to draw a picture of the greedy demon is a complete understatement since he's in constant movements

The only time you catch him truly sitting still is when he's counting money after a long day of casino activities

"Look at what I won, MC! Hey, you're not even listenin'!"

"Sorry, Mammon. I didn't notice that you talked to me."

"What are ya doin' anyways, huh?"

His voice gets caught in his throat and he starts coughing violently. Partly to hide his embarrassment

"It l-looks pretty cool."

Translation: THIS IS THE MOST AMAZING THING HE HAS EVER SEEN

"I can get rid of it if you want me to."

"Are ya mad?! You can't just destroy a picture of the great Mammon! Give that to me."

Leviathan

By now it's routine for you to chill in his room to watch him play in the evening, but sometimes it does get a bit boring. Especially when he's playing a game that isn't your cup of tea

So you take out your notebook and start drawing whatever comes to your mind. This time it happens to be the envious third born

But you can't satisfy yourself with a normal portrait, no. You decide to draw him as if he's a character from the game he's currently obsessing over and proudly show him your work once you're done

You can watch Levi's soul leave his body in real time once he realizes that out of all the cool things in his room you drew him

"I-I can't believe you drew me! Me! It looks so good too! MC, I've got to have this! Please!"

I can see him roll around the room crying and screaming if you refuse to hand over the drawing

Satan

Once he loses himself in a book he turns into a freaking statue

Of course he has seen your drawings before and he absolutely adores them. There are several cat pictures from you hanging on his walls

But seeing you put his own features onto paper is a whole other thing

You manage to make him blush a little and chuckle in embarrassment as he inspects your work

"You're extremely talented. It almost looks real."

As Satan inspects your portrait an idea comes to his mind and a mischievous grin forms on his lips

"Do you perhaps take requests? I'd love for you to draw me tower over Lucifer. Preferably him cowering on the ground while I step on him."

"You know exactly that he will kill me if I do that."

"Oh, well. It was worth a shot."

Asmodeus

DRAW HIM LIKE ONE OF YOUR FRENCH DEMONS

Please, the moment he notices that you're drawing him he's going to strike poses left and right

"Let me fix the light real quick! Oh, I how do I look? Is my hair sitting correctly? Oh, why am I even asking? Of course it does!"

It's not the first time that someone either draws him or takes a picture of him, but with you it's special

Now you have to show him your entire notebook! He has to know if there are more portraits of him!

And there are. Most of them are him in an absolutely relaxed position and often times when he's not dolled up at all

"Why didn't you tell me? I would have gotten ready!"

"You looked the most beautiful in these moments. I didn't wanna disturb them- are you crying?"

"No! OF COURSE I AM!"

Beelzebub

Please, to him you're the most talented artist he has ever seen! And he doesn't hold back with that thought!

One time you drew food just for fun and he ate the entire paper, because it looked way too good. You have to admit that that's quite the high compliment

And Beel has such beautiful and drawable features so how couldn't you put that on a piece of paper?

"Can I see what you're doing?"

The hungry demon gets to lost in it that he's just silent for a very long time. It gets to a point where you worried that he might not like it

"I can throw it away if you want to."

"No, why? I love it."

He never really realized how good he looks until now

"Can I keep it?"

Belphegor

Our sleeping beauty over here is perfect to draw considering he sleeps so still that one might think he actually died

One time you don't even notice that he woke up from his nap and is wondering what you're so focused on

It's only when he leans over to get a peak inside your notebook. You quickly hide the drawings of him, but it's too late for that now. The damage is done and you brace yourself for his teasing

"Wow, you must really like me."

"Shut up."

"This is some Levi-level simping."

"I SAID SHUT UP!"

You guys wrestle over the notebook for a little while until he grows tired of it and lays down again with a yawn

"Fine. Keep your secrets. Your notebook is probably full with my face anyways."

"No."

"Next thing I will find out is that you have a shrine dedicated to me."

"You're such an ass."

"But a pretty one."

---

Masterlist

1K notes · View notes

runningfrom2am · 3 months

Text

cold nights // part fourteen

summary: you showed him colours he knows he can't see with anyone else.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 3.1k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: tribute!reader and mentor!coriolanus, r is very sweet (too kind for this world. literally.), sunshine x grumpy trope kinda, he falls first, violence typical for the source material, r is very smart (as she should), district twelve!reader.

a/n: finally reunited ahh!! (also a note from me while i'm trying to find pics for the header: damn this dude does not look happy very often huh) (okay so update we're settling for a flashback photo bc coryo in his curls era does not SMILE bruh)

my asks are also open to talk about this series! (i do have emoji anons open now too!)

send me any and all of your thoughts! here!

series masterlist // playlist

"Just right here." Lucy Gray stops on the gravel road, nodding up to the house in front of them.

"Okay, sweet." Sejanus smiles, already heading for the front porch but she grabs his arm, stopping him as Coryo just stares at the house, going slightly pale.

"Sejanus, how about you and I go figure out where you guys will stay, and come back for Coriolanus in a bit?" She offers, nodding toward him.

"Oh- uh, yes. Yeah. Good idea." He agrees, picking up quickly on what she meant. Coryo still hasn't said a word, just staring at the run-down shack that apparently was your home. It was clear that efforts were made to maintain the home, the fence had been patched in several places and there were flower beds outside. From what he knew about your family, that would make sense.

"Coriolanus?" Lucy Gray draws his attention again. "We're going to go find you a place to stay, and we'll come back for you in a bit. Does that sound okay?"

"Yeah that's... that's perfect. Thank you." He nods, in a trance-like state as he makes his way up to the door through some only slightly overgrown grass, before he has the chance to second-guess himself.

"He didn't even listen, did he?" Lucy Gray says, both of them watching him from the street.

"Not at all, no."

He can hear the two of them chatting as they disappear back down the road, and he looks for a doorbell that doesn't seem to be there, just settling for a knock instead. He waits a few moments after knocking on the wood, about to do it again when he hears a woman's voice come from inside. "One moment, I'll be right there!"

"I got it, Ma!" Comes from right behind the door as footsteps approach and it's swung open, a young boy standing there. "Hi." He says, eyeing Coryo up and down. It must be your brother.

"Uh, hi." He clears his throat. "Is Y/N here?"

"No, not right now." The boy answers. "Can I take a message for her?"

"Oh, well, my name is Coriolanus Snow, and-"

"Hold on! I'm coming!" The woman's voice comes again, much more excited as she rounds the corner from the hall, brushing her hands off on her apron. "You're Coriolanus?" She asks, a polite but delighted grin on her face as she gets closer.

"Yes, Ma'am." He nods in confirmation, a smile growing on his face. You look so much like your mother.

"Oh my goodness, come in, please! I didn't recognize you!" She gently moves her son out of the way, who is still staring at him with something unwelcoming behind his eyes. As soon as Coryo steps into the home, she's wrapping her arms around him in a hug. "Wow, it is so lovely to meet you! You came a very long way!"

"I did." He chuckles, hugging her back with as much politeness as he can muster behind shaking hands and a pale face.

"Come sit, Y/N will be home within the hour. She'll be just thrilled to see you." She pulls away, gesturing for him to follow her into the living area. "Are you hungry? You must be starving. Let me grab you something." Your mother says, mostly to herself as he sits down on the couch.

"That would be great, thank you." He smiles, still nervous as he tries to adjust his posture on the slightly uncomfortable sofa, looking around. In reality, he hadn't been "starving" for some time now. It felt good to have a consistently filled fridge all the time, but he has hardly eaten since they left the Capitol. He was too nervous to even think about it.

"Why did you come here?" Your brother asks, making Coryo look away from the family photos that adorned the walls. Most of the frames were broken, photos blurry, but he could tell that to your family that didn't matter.

"I hadn't heard from her. I wanted to make sure she was doing okay." Coryo answers, stiffened by your brother's somewhat hostile energy and the thought of getting to see you so soon. Had you told him something you didn't tell your mother? Probably that he killed that boy, but it seemed unlike you to leave out the part where he had no choice. Unless Tigris was wrong.

Unless you still didn't see it that way.

Your brother hums, sitting in the chair across from the couch and leaning his elbows on his knees. To Coryo, this felt like an interrogation. Coming from a teenager, it was almost cute.

"Lennox, Honey, can you come help me for just a moment?" His mother calls him from the kitchen and he's shooting up again, glaring at Coryo as he walks away. He was confused, today alone he's gotten so many mixed signals on your feelings.

You stuck out the day at work, even though while you were reshelving returns you had to rush to the bathroom in the back to vomit after reading the back cover of an old book about a man who hunted humans. You were hoping by now this would happen less and less, but leaving the house had only made it worse. Getting a job was a mistake and you knew that, but your family was hardly scraping by before you were torn from your life- but neither of your parents could work the whole time you were gone. They were sick about it. Your mom still couldn't work, and you knew your father rarely ever slept these days.

You tried to hand over the winnings Coryo's Dean had given you as soon as you got home, holding it out to your parents with trembling hands as they opened the locked door for you. They wanted none of it. Not a dollar from your three thousand, which you had spent time counting and recounting on the train. They only wanted you home. You had hoped it would give you something else to talk about- that you could smile and be proud that you won and that now your family could live comfortably, at least for a little while. The idea almost made it worth it. As you counted your prize under the dim lighting in the train car, you had wondered if you would do it again for them. The money didn't make saying hello again any easier, though, and you cried for what must have been hours on the porch of your family home, the four of you tangled together in a hug bound together by tears.

It was hard to let go, but when they had, finally, your mother shoved the money back into your pocket and told you to save it. One day, you could buy your own home with it, and that wasn't a bad idea.

All you could do for them now that your money sat in a jar in your closet, the best you could do, was convince them you were fine enough for you all to move on and forget about it. The additional income of getting your own job helped, too. So, when your boss tried to send you home, you declined, and five o'clock couldn't have come fast enough.

You drink water out of an old jam jar on the way home, washing the taste of bile out of the back of your mouth. The fresh air made a world of difference. As much as you adored the smell of books, it got stuffy in there, especially in the summers. Even with the sun beating down on your shoulders over your button-up shirt, you felt better just making the walk home every day. The breeze blowing through the trees, the familiar paths beneath your feet, it was one of the very few things that could ground you in the reality that now, you were safe. That, and the meadow behind your house at night time. Reading under lantern light with the stars overhead and your family at your side, you never felt more real. It was truly over.

That's what you would do tonight, you decided, after a long nap following an unfortunate day. At the end of every unfortunate day, you still had that, and that meant the world to you.

"Oh! Here's Tybalt." Your mom smiles, now comfortable on the couch next to Coriolanus as the cat saunters into the living room, jumping up into the space between them. "This is Y/N's cat, she calls him Tybs." She explains, tears forming in her eyes as the cat crawls onto her lap and she quickly blinks them away, but he had already noticed by then.

"She told me about him." Coryo says, placing his now empty tea cup on the coffee table in front of them.

"Of course..." She chuckles sadly. "He took real good care of us while she was away. On particularly... hard nights," She clears her throat. "He would come out into the living room with her father and I and sit with us, he can purr like no ones business, you know, and then after a while, he would run over to our room there and meow at us. Made sure we got to bed. Then curl up with us and just made sure we knew that.... she was still with us."

A tear falls as she speaks and she laughs nervously, quickly brushing it away. "Gosh, I am so sorry..." She quickly dismisses it. "We have company and I'm crying like a little girl. Forgive me..."

"No, it's quite alright." Coryo insists, shaking his head. Of course, he was worried about you in the arena and every night up until then, but he never entertained the idea of what it was like for your family even though he knew about them. That under the same sky, they were sitting here in this very home praying that you might return. Now, he could see it, and you were the lucky one who made it home. He hoped he wouldn't have to see Jessup's family while he was here. "It must have been awful for you."

"Indeed." She nods, wiping her cheek again. "But, you know, it means so much to us that she had someone there to look after her." She smiles at him. It's genuine. Sad, but full of gratitude. He would no longer wonder where you got that habit from. "I decided I wouldn't be watching anything, but her father insisted. He was out at a bar in town, the only one with televisions, then came rushing back in the door twenty minutes later and dragged us back there with him to watch. I didn't want to go but he said 'No, you need to see this. She's not alone. She has a friend.' So down we went, and they were playing reruns of the two of you being dropped into that cage. I just... She looked so comfortable with you. The way you looked at her we could see you cared, that she was human to you, and that you were there to help. I remember thinking for the first time that maybe she had a chance." She's accepted her tears now, reaching over from petting Tybalt to grasp the young man's hands in her own as she spoke.

Your brother scoffs as Coryo lets her hold onto his hands, a small smile forming on his face that's quickly torn away by Lennox's reaction. "Yeah, and then that other boy had to be the one to bring her something to eat after days."

"Hey!" Your mother gasps. "Lennox, get-" She prompts him to leave if he isn't going to be nice.

He rolls his eyes, getting up to leave.

"I didn't have anything to bring her besides a flower." Coryo finds himself stating, shocking even himself at the confession which halts your brother in his steps. He had never told anyone about the poverty he faced at home, but with them, he felt safe to. Something about knowing you assured him that they were not judgemental people. He clears his throat before explaining. "My family lost everything after the war. When I first met her, I also hadn't eaten in days. I gave her everything I could."

Lennox hums before leaving, either not convinced or embarrassed that he'd even made such a comment. Coryo couldn't tell.

"Coriolanus... I am so sorry." Your mother is quick to apologize, and he's embarrassed by the look of pity in her eyes. Pity from a woman who had, for almost a month, believed she had lost her child, and was still struggling with it today. He felt nothing but guilt.

"Well, I must tell you, your daughter saved us from that." He tries to lift her spirits as a confused expression paints itself into her features, but he doesn't get the chance to elaborate as they both turn at the sound of the front door opening.

"Ma!" You call out, closing the door behind you and kicking off your shoes, preparing your smile to tell her about the absolutely great day you just had.

Your mother stands quickly, patting the boys thigh gently and wipes her eyes. "Hi, Honey, how was your day?" She asks, smiling at him through red eyes.

"Come what come may, time and the hour runs through the roughest day." Your groaned response comes slightly muffled from the other room, and Coryo can hear you shuffling about.

"Oh, no. What happened?" Immediately your mother's tone shifts to worry, and Coryo wonders how it took her less than a second to understand.

"Nothing, Ma. All is fine." You call back, putting your bag down in the kitchen, and heading for the living room, gluing a smile back on. "Guess what I saw on the walk home! A ladybug, it landed right on my-" You freeze as you walk into the entryway, seeing your mother and your previous mentor just standing up next to her.

"Oh, I should have mentioned, we have company." Your mother smiles, already gathering the used dishes from the coffee table, and brushing past you to bring them into the kitchen. Likely, to give you two a chance to talk.

When Coryo lays his eyes on you for the first time again, he can swear his heart stops. Yours definitely does as nausea comes over you in a wave again, and your calculated smile drops.

You don't say anything, just staring with an expression unreadable to him. "Y/N, hi." He breathes, smiling at you. You look beautiful but tired, still. Still, that girl he watched in the arena, it was hard to believe that every part of you made it out. You weren't the same girl he saw for the first time in the reaping- you were more. More of you, and more of something else; hurt, if he had to guess.

"It's good to see you." He continues, his voice a gentle whisper that cuts through the awkward tension in the room. Your heart races, emotions swirling like a tempest within you. Coriolanus Snow, your mentor and friend who had guided you through your time in that Capitol and the games, is standing in your living room, looking both apologetic and hopeful.

"Coryo," You manage to say, voice barely above a whisper as you swallow the sickness rising in your throat. The memories flood back- everything awful you had gone through. Meeting him for the first time as he handed you a flower, sitting on opposite sides of the bars of your cage and talking long into the nights. Everything you had done, everything he had given you, the people you both hurt in the process. He takes a step closer, cautiously navigating the fragile space between you.

"I... What are you doing here?" You ask quietly, your eyes unable to meet his gaze. The room feels smaller, the walls closing in on you quickly.

He clears his throat, a nervous habit you remember well. "I wanted to see you," he says, his eyes pleading for understanding. "I didn't know what you were up to and how you were adjusting and... I was worried about you."

The weight of unspoken words lingers between you, and for a moment, neither of you knows how to bridge the gap that only a month of time has built. You had been away from him longer than you had known him, and facing him again, you were embarrassed. Scared. Coryo takes a deep breath, summoning the courage to express the weight of what he's carried in his mind for too long.

"I never stopped thinking about you," He confesses, sincerity etched across his face. "I tried sending letters but I didn't get any response."

The vulnerability in his eyes mirrors your own, and the air crackles with a shared sense of everything you want to say but just can't find the words. You can't help it as you feel over and over again the countless hours spent together in the lead-up to the worst days of your life.

Tentatively, he reaches for your hand, a silent plea for connection. As your fingers take his, warmth floods through you, dissolving the distance. "I missed you," he admits, his voice barely audible.

A rush of conflicting emotions surges within you- that same embarrassment, anger, hurt, but also a flicker of the fondness that never truly faded. "I missed you too," You admit, your voice breaking through the emotional dam, built up from fear and trauma and the stacks of books in your bedroom that held it back all this time.

With those words, the barriers crumble, and the room is filled with a pitiful silence. The weight of what you had both done begins to lift, replaced with the realization that he did honestly care for you, the way you did for him. As you look into each other's eyes, the connection is undeniable, evidence of a bond that time could never change. You would always be connected to him.

"Do you remember when I brought you that blanket?" He asks and you take in a sharp breath. The few pleasant memories you had of your time together were so often overthrown by the awful ones, these days. His eyes flicker quickly across your face. He looks as scared as you feel. "And I said I wish I could get to know you as you are, not as a tribute, and you said you would show me the stars."

A small smile tugs at the corners of your lips as you nod, the nausea you felt steadily subsiding. "So you walk softly and look sweetly and say nothing. I am yours for the walk and especially when I walk away."

Coryo tilts his head at you, and smiles. That must have been a yes. "Please, don't walk away again." He whispers, and in that moment, he feels the tightness in his chest that carried him through the last month finally release.

taglist: @soulessjourney , @that-veela-girl , @dreamyysouls, @rockstarbfs , @maysileeewrites , @baybieruth , @kitscutie , @fratboyharrysgf0201 , @totallynotkaibiased , @stelleduarte , @secretsicanthideanymore , @bejeweledreverie , @drewsandsebastianswife , @niicole-87 , @queenofshinigamis , @innercreationflower , @nallasstuff , @scorpiolystoned , @iovemoonyy , @thatmarvelchick19 , @wearemadeofstardust0 , @regulusblackcore , @puredreamagination , @fantasticchaosthing , @becauseseaotters , @secretsicanthideanymore

okay suddenly tumblr isn't letting me tag more people than this so i just made some cuts unfortunately :') i just left the max amount of people i could whose users i recognized and see in my notifs all the time :) if you're not on here and you should be i'm so sorry!

also this taglist is closed now!! if you’d like to get a notification when i update, turn on my post notifications!! i promise i won’t spam y'all :,)

#tbosas #tbosas fic #tbosas x reader #tbosas fanfiction #thg series #hunger games #the hunger games #thg fanfiction #thg #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #coriolanus fanfiction #coryo snow #coryo x reader #coryo x you #snow lands on top

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floofanflurr · 10 days

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Draw this in your style!

Hello!!!!! Wow, there’s a lot of people here now! I wanted to do something to celebrate my 300 follower milestone, so here we are!!! A draw this in your style challenge (invitation?)

Rules and details below!

Rules:

Have fun! If you don't want to do a night sky, it could be a sunrise, sunset, cloud-watching... whatever you want Sans, Frisk, and Papyrus to be watching as long as it's a sky of some kind!

Since someone asked- You can add characters- just don’t take any away!

Don't trace/steal other people's art.

Please @ me and tag your art #star shower dtys. I don't have a twitter, so if you post it somewhere else, please let me know on tumblr so I can still see it!

Anyone can participate!

But!!! As a thank you for following me and also for participating in this, for my followers, there is a couple prizes!

Who qualifies?

Any of my followers on tumblr! They also have to post the dtys art on tumblr, and tag it with #star shower dtys and properly @ me. If you're seeing this, and you don't follow me, you can always follow now!

I also need to be able to DM you if you win!

Who will be the winners?

One randomly selected person!

And! My favorite image at the end!

Detail about winning prizes:

Each winner will get a drawing! One to two characters of your choice, waist up. Plain/simple background. (I have full rights to deny any request I am uncomfortable drawing, and to ask for a different request. Please be respectful.)

Fair warning that my art is a mixed bag when it comes to quality and style - especially when I'm not drawing Undertale - if you do decide to ask for character(s) outside of the fandom.

I will do my best to draw any characters I am unfamiliar with (including OCs!) but I will need plenty of references.

Deadline?

May 25th, 11:59PM Central Time

(This is the cutoff for if you want to be considered for winning a prize - but please feel free to continue to draw this in your style even after this timeframe passes as long as you tag it #star shower dtys and @ me.)

Have fun!!!

#star shower dtys #dtys #undertale #undertale fanart #draw this in your style #sans #frisk #papyrus #fanart #floof draws

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oceanlix · 4 months

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Day 8: Eric

Pairing: Eric x female reader

Genre: Smut

Word count: 1045

Warnings: Wall sex, breathplay, dirty talk, hand kink, praise, creampie

Smutmas 2023 Masterlist

This is so stupid, you tell yourself, biting your lip to try and tame your thoughts. You’re supposed to be watching the instructor for safety tips, not imagining what it would be like to have those veiny hands wrapped around your thighs. Or inside of you. Or even better yet, around your neck. No, this is definitely crossing the line into perversion, you decide.

“Y/N?” You blink, realizing the hot instructor has just now called you out in front of the whole class. Great.

You push your goggles up your nose even though they aren’t falling off in the slightest, hoping to buy some time as your eyes dart towards his nametag. Leave it to your horny brain to not even remember his name, wow.

“Sorry, drifted away for a bit there,” you chuckle nervously. Hopefully he buys it.

Eric looks you up and down, a little smirk appearing on his lips. Oh, you are so busted, you realize. You gulp, watching as his eyes come back up to yours and linger there. “Well, as I was saying, everyone’s going to pair up and practice belaying for each other. Since we have an uneven number of students today, I’m going to partner up with someone. And since you were spaced out while everyone picked their partners, I guess you’re stuck with me.”

You’ve gone and got yourself into some deep shit now, apparently.

—-

It was inevitable you’d end up here, some hours later. The gym is long empty, the class having ended after an intense hour of flirting with the instructor while he attempted to teach you how to belay. And now he’s got you in his office, stripping in front of you.

You’re practically drooling. Obviously you expected Eric to be a little muscular; you don’t become a rock climber without having a certain level of strength, after all. But knowing it and seeing it for yourself are two very different things, you’ve realized.

“Like what you see?” he teases you, letting his shirt drop to the floor. You do; you’re licking your lips in anticipation, actually. But your speech has failed you, so you just nod while he takes off his pants and underwear.

“Come here,” you request, holding your hands out. Eric looks amused, but walks towards you anyway. As soon as you get your hands on his chest, you let out a groan, leaning forward to kiss his neck. “God, you are so hot it’s not fair.”

Eric laughs, tilting your face up so he can kiss you. “And you’re adorable,” he tells you, wrapping an arm around your waist.

It shouldn’t surprise you when he lifts you up easily, carrying you over to the wall. You’re dripping at the display of strength, even if your back hurts a little when he lines his cock up with your entrance. It’s a small price that you’re willing to pay for the pleasure he’s about to give you.

“Let me know if you’re uncomfortable, okay?” he says, sliding into you a second later. He’s so deep that all you can do is moan, digging your nails into his shoulders to ground yourself. Eric’s muscles ripple as he holds you in place, letting you adjust to his size.

His hands feel even better squeezing around your thighs than you imagined, drawing soft moans out of you. “Please,” you whimper, opening your eyes to look at him. “Move.”

Eric wastes no time, lifting you off his cock until just the head is inside. He smirks, then slams you full again with his hard length. You’re trying not to scream in case anyone’s still around, but it’s proving difficult with the brutal pace he sets.

You just about disintegrate when he adjusts his grip on you, bringing one hand up to wrap around your throat. All your dreams come true when Eric’s fingers squeeze gently at your neck, your eyes rolling back in your head. “More, more,” you babble, feeling his cock twitch inside you. You’re glad he’s clearly into it too.

“Bet you were thinking about this the whole class,” he growls, fingers digging in a little harder. Your vision swims a little, but Eric backs off just as quick as your eyes pop open. He looks like he wants to eat you, making your pussy clench around his cock. “Couldn’t wait for me to get my hands on you, huh?”

You nod frantically. “Needed it so bad,” you moan, arching your back so your breasts press up against his chest. “Your hands are so distracting.”

Eric chuckles, pressing two of his fingers against your lips. You open your mouth to let them in immediately, loving the way his eyes darken as you suck on them lewdly. “That’s it,” he whispers, rubbing the pads of his fingers across your tongue. “You’re so good to me, sweetheart.”

The praise goes straight to your pussy, your walls fluttering around him. Your thighs are slick with your own fluid as you drip around his cock, the squelching sounds driving you crazy with every thrust.

“Can I come inside?” he asks suddenly, dragging his fingers out of your mouth and down your neck. You briefly think about how you’d probably let him crush your windpipe if he wanted to, but you just nod. You’re on birth control anyway.

Eric’s pace picks up immediately, his cockhead hitting your spot on every thrust now. You can’t even think straight, moans spilling from your mouth like it’s the only language you know. His fingers are gripping your thighs for dear life now, fighting to hold you up while he impales you on his cock over and over again.

“Shit, I’m cumming!” you warn him, digging your nails into his skin so hard there’s definitely going to be marks later. Eric hisses at the burning pain, but then buries himself fully inside you and blows his load.

It feels like he cums forever, rope after rope of hot, white fluid hitting your walls. You’re slumped against the wall when he finally pulls out, your mixed cum dripping out of you onto the floor.

“Come on, let’s take a shower,” Eric insists. He has to hold you up with an arm around your waist, but the two of you leave his office together.

#the boyz smut #tbz smut #eric sohn smut #eric sohn x reader #eric sohn fic #smutmas 2023 #my fics

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emojellyace08 · 5 months

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hii! It’s me again, sorry 😭

So I was wondering if I could make another request (again sorry if I’m annoying 😭🖐)

Like Gun, Goo, Jake, Samuel and DG with an S/O who is a kindergarten teacher?? And she’s really sweet kids love her??

𝐋𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐦 𝐌𝐞𝐧 𝐱 𝐏𝐫𝐞-𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐥 𝐓𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫! 𝐅𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐀/𝐍: 𝐎𝐌𝐆 𝐈'𝐌 𝐒𝐎 𝐒𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐈'𝐕𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐃𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐒𝐎 𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄 (𝐈'𝐦 𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐫𝐧) 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟!

⤷ 𝐆𝐮𝐧 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤, 𝐉𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐋𝐞𝐞 (𝐃𝐆), 𝐒𝐚𝐦𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐒𝐞𝐨, 𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐒𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠, 𝐓𝐚𝐞𝐬𝐨𝐨 𝐌𝐚, 𝐌𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐢 𝐊𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚, 𝐇𝐮𝐝𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐡𝐧

It's quite surprising that you got to date this bastard despite your life styles being really different. The school management are super worried to hire you as a new pre-school teacher because of fresh gossips that you are dating a "gangster" or someone who is "involved with the mafia". But you proved them wrong with how effective your teaching skills are and how gentle and nice you are with children 🖤✨😇🥀.

If you asked him out to help teach the kids, he is really hesitant at first. Because he doesn't want to ruin your and his reputations, and second, he's really busy with business that he's handling, and third, he might accidentally hurt the kids and he may just cause you trouble.

But, if you really asked him to (with your help of course) he may accept the offer. Though expect him to have that poker face all the time 💀✋.

The children may have 2 reactions. First, they may get a bit intimidated and scared because of how muscular he is (like for example having LOTS OF TATTOOS AND SCARS) and most especially his death glares at times 😭🗿. And the other children will be VERY FUND OF HIM. They're so impressed with his tattoos thinking that those are cool body painting. Some may even tease you for bringing your future husband 😉. "WOW! YOU GOT COOL DRAWINGS ON YOUR ARMS MISTER!" a little boy with a bowl cut and a little girl with pigtails inspected his rather sturdy limbs while the other children "style and fixes" his hair with cute My Melody clips. "Thanks, I guess." he muttered while an another child approached him with a scared expression as she curiously asked "But I thought tattoos are bad? A-At least that's what my momma told me..." she mumbled as she was afraid to offend the scary looking guy. But surprisingly, he just sighed as he tried to explain the reasons about why he got those "offensive" markings on his body. "It's your decision in the future if you want to get tattoos or not. But you're still children. So that's the reason why your mom told you that getting tattoos are bad for your age." 🥺. You're literally going to smile as you get to see this soft side of him that he rarely shows.

He may not accept with playing hide and seek with the children since he's skeptical that he'll make some cry💀✋. But he will weirdly enjoy some calmer activities like drawing, painting, and he also doesn't mind if the little girls style him up with those fake make-up and hair clips. And playing toy trucks with the little boys, especially if you're with him enjoying this moment.

⤷ 𝐉𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐊𝐢𝐦,𝐆𝐨𝐨 𝐊𝐢𝐦, 𝐙𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐋𝐞𝐞, 𝐒𝐢𝐧𝐮 𝐇𝐚𝐧, 𝐉𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐘𝐨𝐨𝐧, 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐧, 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝 𝐋𝐞𝐞, 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐞, 𝐊𝐮𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐚 𝐑𝐲𝐮𝐡𝐞𝐢, 𝐕𝐢𝐧 𝐇𝐨 𝐁𝐢𝐧 (𝐕𝐢𝐧 𝐉𝐢𝐧), 𝐆𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐞𝐨𝐛 𝐉𝐢, 𝐉𝐢𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐉𝐢𝐛𝐞𝐨𝐦 𝐊𝐰𝐚𝐤, 𝐓𝐨𝐦 𝐋𝐞𝐞 (𝐧𝐨 𝐥𝐞𝐟𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝 💀🗿)

Is IRONICALLY INTO IT (even though if he denies it and thinks it's cringe LMAO).

Despite his somewhat a bad reputation, he's mostly a fun and loving guy especially with those who are close to him. Whether it's you (his loving partner), his family and friends, he's willing to feel vulnerable for the people he loves 🖤✨. And that side of him is rarely noticed because of how some people are quick to judge at times...

You want help with teaching the children? NO PROBLEM. As long as he gets to spend some extra time with you (like some sort of a date), he can't take down your offer. And also bonus points is that even if he somehow has that love and hate relationship with kids, he may even bring some candies, plushies, and learning materials for the children not only to enjoy but also learn 🖤✨.

He's really going to enjoy playing hide and seek with the children especially at play time. He may go a little cautious though as he doesn't want to freak them out at accidentally hurt them (considering how strong he is). And he's going to have those little talk with the boys about their crushes, teasing them and laughing out loud about some silly stories the boys tell him. He MAY curse a little though, so you got to watch out for his language and scold him to not get in trouble. "And when I was going inside the school, I didn't noticed the door closed so I hit my head and got a REALLY BIG BUMP ON MY FOREHEAD!" A boy with crooked teeth exclaimed quite proudly as his fellow students cackle at his silly story with your quite gleeful boyfriend. "HAHAHHAHHA THAT'S FUCKI-" "OI! LANGUAGE!" "EEK I'M SORRY MY LOVE!". And he'll also blush a lot when the annoying brats tease him with you being his girlfriend. "I HEARD THAT YOU HAVE A REALLY HUGE CRUSH ON MS. Y/N!" a little girl smirked as he hissed at the group of little brats as they let out chirps of laughter. "WELL, YOU DON'T EVEN HAVE A BOYFRIEND THOUGH! HUH!" "BECAUSE I'M STILL YOUNG MISTER STUPID!" "Children, what did I say about cursing?" you raised your eyebrows with that silly smile as your bf and she apologized.

Is REALLY BAD AT SPELLING like some of the other men above 💀✋. So you got to teach him the right grammar and pronunciation to not accidentally teach the children the REALLY WRONG WAY xD. And plays dress up with the girls with that goofy makeup 😭.

⤷ 𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐞𝐥 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤, 𝐉𝐚𝐲 𝐇𝐨𝐧𝐠, 𝐙𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐋𝐞𝐞, 𝐕𝐚𝐬𝐜𝐨 (𝐋𝐞𝐞 𝐄𝐮𝐧 𝐓𝐚𝐞), 𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤, 𝐄𝐥𝐢 𝐉𝐚𝐧𝐠, 𝐉𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐊𝐢𝐦, 𝐒𝐢𝐧𝐮 𝐇𝐚𝐧, 𝐉𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐊𝐰𝐚𝐤, 𝐃𝐮𝐤𝐞 𝐏𝐲𝐞𝐨𝐧, 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐉𝐢𝐧𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠 & 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐆𝐚𝐩𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐊𝐢𝐦, 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐞, 𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐒𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠 (𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐛𝐢𝐭 ; 𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐫𝐢𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝐜𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐬𝐡)

Is REALLY INTO IT (It's so obvious lol).

He's also a bit hesitant at first especially if he's busy. But if you really need help then he'll come with you.

He may not realize it but he's REALLY GOOD WITH TAKING CARE OF CHILDREN. YOU NAME IT. Whether it's academics like spelling, counting numbers and simple mathematics, cultural subjects like music, arts, physical education, studying language, or reading storybooks and fairy tales he's going to be a really amazing teacher! (Zack and Vasco may have a hard time at spelling some words though).

It's no surprise that he's really gentle and nice with your students as he is aware that he is more physically stronger than them. So he's really cautious about it when playing hide and seek or tag because he doesn't want to hurt them 🖤✨🥀🥺. He'll also scold at them at times if they almost bruise themselves like a protective dad and like they are his own children 😭. "Hey, I told you to not run fast. You know got a bruise you see." he calmly scolded the little boy as you rushed in the scene. "DARLING WHAT HAPPENED!" you noticed the little boy sniffing, not because he was scared of your boyfriend. But because of the stinging pain of the small injury he got. "I-I ran a bit fast... I'm sorry Ms. Y/N." he apologized as you both sighed while your boyfriend patch up his wounds with the extra band aid he got on his pocket. "It's okay. Just don't run a bit too fast next time okay?" O-Okay..." He may not like wearing make-up and hair clips but if it's for the girls' entertainment, then he would have no problems with it (he's so considerate AHHHHHHHHHH I LOVE THEM SM). He may even brush their hair and even put some hair gel on the boys to boost up their confidence 💯.

I may sound emotional, but he'll also talk abut philosophic topics about life since he's really an empathetic guy you see. He'll talk about how the children should love their parents for their sacrifices, how much their childhood and innocence should be cherished while they are still kids, etc.. You may not expect it, but it may bring a bittersweet tears of joy on the children's eyes just because of how good of a person he is 🖤✨🥀 .

Feedbacks would be appreciated!

Feel free to request on the askbox!

#lookism x reader #lookism x y/n #lookism x you #daniel park x reader #lookism fic #jay hong x reader #zack lee x reader #vasco x reader #dg x reader #eli jang x reader #james lee x reader #gun park x reader #johan seong x reader #warren chae x reader #hudson ahn x reader #sinu han x reader #jake kim x reader #samuel seo x reader #park hyungseok x reader

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ethanlvndry · 1 year

Text

~♧☆FOCUS ON ME☆♧~

Haganezuka x Black!demon!reader

⚠️:Dub-con, reader is a brat, curvy chubby reader, exhibitionism, size k, blood k, P in V, rough sex. Masturbation

Summary: Y/N was requested to go along with Gyokko and Hantengu on their mission to swordsmith village after leaving Muichiro to Gyokko. She finds herself taking a liking to a concentrated swordsmith. Now she's trying to break his focus, but finds herself struggling at comes up with an idea that just might or might not work 🤔.

_____________

"STAY AWAY!"

You've been trying to get a frightened, puny swordsmith out of your way for 5 solid minutes. Gyokko told me he looked like he was hiding something, so I went to check it out while he handled that frail pillar.

"Who are you to tell ME what to do?"

I raise my leg and kick him on his chest, sending him flying into the wall. I look around, and my eyes land on a moving body.

"Don't tell me you were just trying to hide your friend. I really thought I was about to see some action!"

Wait...what's that scraping sound?

I look closer and see the body is moving a sword.

"Wow, you're putting in so much work for a sword that I'm going to ruin in less than 5 seconds."

I pause to let him answer, but instead, he continues to forge his weak strip of metal.

"Hello? You can hear me, can't you?"

UGH. This guy's really getting on my fucking nerves! How dare he ignore such a specimen?!

Plenty of guys would KILL to have me look their way!

"HEY, FOCUS ON ME"

I whip out my blood demon art.

Sharp Illusion

It allows me to make people feel pain without actually harming their body.

I lash out on his back, but he still continues, a chunk of his mask crumbling down. But he keeps on working. On that stupid. SWORD!

I grumble before lashing out on his back again. This time his whole mask crumbles down. And oh.my.gosh.

He's gorgeous.

I feel a throb right where I need him, and it makes me want to act on my instincts.

"Don't you want to take a break from your task and ravage me before I kill you?"

...still no answer

I decide to physically get his attention. I March over to him and push his hair off his sweaty for head and behind his ear.

I'm shoved away by the puny swordsmith from before and my face almost instantly sours.

"Stay away from Haganezuka-san, you filthy demon!"

His rebellion is cut off by another kick to the chest, this time strategically placed, so that he would be down for a while.

Atleast long enough for me to get what I want.

I focus myself back on 'Haganezuka'

and rub his shoulders, watching them relax out of their tense position earlier. Still, he works on the sword.

"Haganezuka~ I know you want me~"

I find myself getting irritated with his ongoing concentration, and I decide that if I want to break it, I've gotta go all out.

I fall to my knees and massage his shoulders again. This time, my hands slowly start to trail farther down. Eventually reaching the draw string of his pants.

I untie the knot and pull out his cock. A smirk starts to form as I hear a shift in his breathing.

"Do I have your attention now, Haganezuka?"

Still no answer, but this time, my grin doesn't falter. I instead circle two of my fingers around his fat mushroom tip, and trail two fingers on my other hand to my hot pussy.

I moan out his name in an attempt to get his full focus on me, but I fail miserably.

I try other things even kissing him, but he just stays in place and continues working on his stupid sword.

I'm in, hopefully, my final attempt to get his attention. I pull his pants father down and pull my skirt all the way up.

I crawl on his lap and grumble as he continues to work on his sword, only moving his arms around me so he can continue working.

I line his tip up with my hole and let out a sigh before plunging down, taking him all the way inside of me.

"Fuck Mr Haganezuka, your cock feels so good!"

If he answered me, it was through grunts and grits of his teeth. I bounce up and down on his cock, and wrap my arms around his neck for stability.

Once my climax is in reach, I bounce faster than before, and finally, I let go all over the both of us, ruining both of our clothes.

"I never knew a uppermoon thought more of sex than consuming flesh of a human. What a slut."

I gasped at the first words spoken directly towards me from the man who I've been intercoursing with. But it's cut short when he suddenly grabs my hips and plunges into me with little to no stops in between. I Can barely get out a word from my overstimulated state.

I sob and cry in an effort for him to stop, but he won't.

And I love it.

I feel my vision getting fuzzy, and slowly, my head goes limp off to the side.

_____________

#hotaru haganezuka #haganezuka x reader #demon slayer haganezuka #kny haganezuka #haganezuka x black reader #haganezuka x demon reader #kny smut #kny x reader #demon slayer smut #demon slayer x reader #demon slayer x black!fem!reader #demon slayer x black reader #demon slayer

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darkbluekies · 1 year

Note

hi hi how have you been if it's no trouble and if you are taking requests can I request your ocs with an artist reader that gives them a painted picture of themselves, If it's too difficult pls ignore this. Thanks and have a great day/night♡

(sorry if my grammar is bad)

A/N: I'm so sorry, there might have been some translation error in my brain that said that yn gave the yanderes a picture of themselves, not of yn! I'm still not 100% sure what you mean, but I wrote this. I hope you'll like it even if it's the wrong interpretation :(♡

Warnings: a bit suggestive parts in Edmund's and Silas’s

Silas:

You’re quietly coming into his office with something behind your back. Silas looks curious, asking you what you want since you never come down to his office. Youquickly give the paper over to him and attempts to run, but he lets his men lock the doors before you have the time to reach them.

“Now, now, don’t run. Let’s see what you’ve given me … wow, baby, this is magnificent. You drew me? Why haven’t you told me that you have such a talent, little thing? Now, don’t get all shy now. I really like it. I’ll keep it right here on my desk. Come here now so I can give you a kiss.”

Dr Kry:

He can tell that you’ve been drawing something for over an hour by now, but you haven’t let him see it. Everytime he comes close you pull the paper away. He’s growing curious, he can’t deny that. By lunchtime, you give him your artwork. He scans it with a small smile on his face.

“You made this of me? How sweet of you. I will cherish this dearly, I promise. Do you like to draw? Do you want me to buy you some supplies?”

King Edmund:

He has hundreds of portraits from all ages. Every year there's a new portrait of him (and you) hung in the throne room. But when you give him a messy sketch of him that you made while waiting for him to finish a meeting, he's mesmerized. You've caught something that the other painters haven't. There's something real about your sketch. Something human that has gotten erased in the official portraits.

"This is so beautiful, my jewel. You have a wonderful talent. I want you to paint my next portrait. And I'll do whatever pose you want, wearing whatever you want."

Jerry:

She likes to make some sketches too. But nothing professional. Just some doodles when she's bored. She has let you borrowed her sketchbook while she's gone in a warehouse to retrieve stuff you want nothing to do with. You draw her from memory and when she returns you hand the book back. She catches a glimpse of the small cartoonish sketch you've made of her.

"Is this supposed to be me? Why did you make my face so round? I have a jawline, you know. I'm just teasing, I know it's an art style. It's stupidly cute somehow. I'll make one of you later and then we'll keep them in our phonecases, got it?"

Hedwig:

You're not paying attention in class again. It's okay, though! Hedwig will give you her notes. You're leaning against the wall, doodling. You start to draw your girlfriend, picturing her side profile magnificently.

"Y/N, we'll work in pairs now- … oh, is that me? Wow, you're amazing! You have to show me more later, I didn't know you had such good talent! Can I keep it? Thank you, I'll hang it in my locker and get reminded of you every time I open it!"

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere drabbles #yandere imagines #yandere fics #yandere mafia #yandere oc x you #yandere headcanon #yandere reactions #yandere ocs x reader #yandere ocs #yandere oc x reader #yandere doctor #yandere king #yandere female #yandere x darling

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masterjedilenawrites · 4 months

Note

hello there. could i request the bois and tbb for their reaction that they would have when they see their s/o wearing a dress, as their s/o normally wears pants and shirts.

Fox, Fives, and Tup eat it up. They start with an endless string of Wow-s, then they'll remember other words exist and insist their S/O spin around or pose for them so they can admire all the angles. They may even insist on some photos, or maybe grab whoever's around so they can show off their partner's look. Otherwise it's praises galore. Regardless how comfortable or not their S/O initially feels in the dress, they're definitely getting a confidence boost.

Jesse, Kix, and Wrecker instantly turn mischevious. They're whistling, they're teasing, they're even getting handsy. It's just too big of a change to pass up an opportunity to have some fun with it. If their S/O's not fully comfortable in the get-up, they'll help make them laugh and loosen up a little. It's just clothes, and at the end of the day they're still the beautiful person they fell for no matter what they wear. But this outfit sure is fun.

Hardcase, Dogma, and Tech honestly won't notice. To say they're oblivious to things like fashion is an understatement. Their S/O will try to casually draw their attention toward it, swaying around or saying things like If only I had pockets to put this thing in... Still nothing. They'll have to stand right in their line of sight and specifically say Hey look! I'm wearing a dress! Then these guys will have a little moment of dazed blinking before giving a shy smile and a nice compliment.

Rex, Hunter, and Crosshair will stop dead in their tracks, mouth agape, speechless at the sight before them. Bonus points if their S/O is really feeling themselves, rather than being awkward or embarrassed. The confidence they exude is more mesmerizing than the dress itself. They never really snap out of it either. They may put on a face, act cool and collected, but inside they're still freaking out. They simply cannot look away. And when the dress comes off and it's back to pants, they'll low-key pout about it.

Cody, Wolffe, and Echo have a less obvious, but no less appreciative reaction. Their face will light up with a smile, their eyes will grow soft as they take them in. If their S/O is walking awkwardly they'll rush up to offer their arm and help put them at ease. Or if their S/O is really enjoying the change of attire, they'll help them find ways to wear dresses more often. They will always be supportive - and enamored - of their S/O's choices in appearance.

Every Character Tag: @dangerousstrawberrypie, @justanothersadperson93, @arctrooper69, @sleepycreativewriter, @techie-bear, @theroguesully, @cw80831

Clone Bois & Bad Batch Tag: @kaijusplotch, @rebel-finn, @lucyysthings, @marvel-starwars-nerd, @nekotaetae, @severalseashellsbytheseashore, @lackofhonor, @flowered-bicycles, @foodmoneyandcats, @nahoney22

✨Join A Tag List Here!✨

☕️ Clone Comfort Hour | 🌙 Master List of Master Lists

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averagewriter-inthedark · 1 year

Text

Lover 💗 | Bradley Bradshaw Imagine

TGM masterlist

Characters & Pairings: Bradley Bradshaw x singer!reader (female/romance)

Content Warnings: fluff, mentions of sexism, references to pop culture, profanity | female!reader (she/her) | wc: 5.6k

Requested 📨 yes/no (for @auroradawnwrites 💗)

Premise : When it came to her love life, singer and songwriter Y/n L/n had a reputation where it felt like the world was against her to the point she doubted ever finding her perfect match. Being in the industry for so long made it difficult to envision what a life with her potential soulmate would be like. But sometimes great things come to people who are patient. And finding the person who made Y/n feel like the only girl in the world had that reputation flicker away like dust on a bookshelf.

Note: I know I keep apologizing for the long waits in my requests but I promise it’s because of having to balance school, random shit happening in my life, and wanting to put out a developed, well-thought out story that the requested person deserves 🥹 and I realized about week ago when I started writing this one after finally getting to it after it was sent in February. @auroradawnwrites I saw that you posted last month that you were leaving your blog but if you happen to see this on another account or still have the notifications on for that blog just know I’m so sorry for this taking so long and I hope it was everything you imagined 😭

Songs headcanonned for singer!reader: ‘Love Story,’ ‘Bad Blood,’ ‘Look What You Made Me Do,’ ‘Getaway Car’ ‘You Need To Calm Down’ by Taylor Swift. ‘Love’ by Lana Del Rey. Albums mentioned that are headcanonned for singer!reader: ‘Lover’, ‘1989’ (I just changed it to 1986 to suit the headcanonned year of birth for reader), ‘Reputation,’ ‘Fearless,’ ‘Red’

——————————

“Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome back our next guest,” Jimmy Fallon grins to the audience, arm slightly raising towards the curtains. “She’s been a friend to The Tonight Show for a long time. Here to celebrate twenty years since her debut and to talk about her newest album ‘Lover,’ singer and songwriter—the one and only, Y/n L/n!!”

There’s no need to turn on the sign reading ‘Applause,’ because the audience are on their feet when the curtains draw open slightly to reveal the beaming popstar. People are waving frantically, whistling, some even on the verge of tears at the fact they were in the presence of their idol. It was even hard hearing the band play from the noise

Y/n smiled the entire walk to Jimmy, blowing kisses at the crowd before embracing the man in a hug and settling down on the arm chair. “Wow, wow, wow,” he shouted, watching her give one last wave as he sat in his own chair. “Hi, Y/n.”

“Hi, Jimmy! It’s wonderful to see you again.”

“It’s great to see you too, it’s been awhile since we’ve had you on, huh?” Both make faces indicating they were thinking about her last appearance on the show.

“I think it’s been almost…six years,” Y/n tapped her lips with a finger. “Pre-pandemic I believe—because I haven’t really done much since 2019.”

“Yeah, you took a bit of a break.”

“A much needed one,” she chuckled, “But it feels so great to be back. I’ve been taking this time to really put time into discovering who I am as a person and what is next for me. I’m so grateful for the fans who’ve supported me all this time—I know,” she looks to the camera, “I know I kept you waiting, but fear not, I am back and better than ever.” The statement ignites a holler and applause from the crowd.

Jimmy claps with the audience, “That’s what I’m talking about. What can you tell us about this new music you’ve been working on? I know I mentioned your upcoming one, but you actually announced you will be releasing another at the end of this year, correct?”

Instantly Y/n lights up, “That’s right, Jimmy. For starters Lover is probably my most personal album to date. During the pandemic I basically shut myself off from everyone—and the world because I deleted the social media apps off my phone,” there’s a light chuckle from the crowd, “which made everyone go crazy thinking I died. But I can assure you I was just trying to put all my time and energy into writing, producing, selecting which songs would go on the track list. Each song is there for a specific reason—telling a story per say, and I feel listeners will be able to relate in some way.”

“Why the name ‘Lover,’?” Jimmy asked with curiosity, “is it a metaphor for the story or does it have a deeper meaning?” Judging by the cheesy smile Y/n started to do, Jimmy straightened his posture. “Are you….?”

“It’s for the lovers, you know?” Y/n shrugged nonchalantly. Those around didn’t buy it, leaning forward in their seats with curious eyes. “Yeah it’s about love and those feelings where you think your heart is about to burst from your chest. Like I said, many will be able to relate to it.”

Jimmy gave a look, “So did someone in your life inspire it perhaps?”

Instead of answering right at that second, Y/n remained grinning as the face of inspiration and the owner of her heart appeared in her mind. His gorgeous hazel eyes glowing under the sunlight. The feeling of his warm body against hers each time he held her in his arms. Tickling sensations from his mustache when he rained kisses across her skin. The sound of his laugh whenever he made a joke or she did something silly just to see him smile. Fingers dancing across the piano while they sang their favorite songs in their own private concert.

Her lover. Her life. Her reason for waking up everyday in an endless state of bliss. The person who inspired nearly every song on the album, best describing it as a love letter to him.

Relationships and romance had been a complicated part of Y/n’s life and career. A reputation often frowned upon despite only seeing a small picture.

It all started one summer day in Nashville, Tennessee. 17-year-old Y/n had big dreams and aspirations of being a singer, spending her free time playing guitar and writing songs about teenage experiences. Growing up in Tennessee, the birthplace of country music, Y/n was surrounded by the legacy of icons like Dolly Parton, The Dixie Chicks, Johnny Cash, Hank Williams, Reba McEntire, and Kenny Rogers. It was all she listened to growing up, though she did dabble in pop and R&B—going on to cite Aaliyah, TLC, Whitney Houston, and David Bowie as influences in her music.

“I hear the high school is having a talent show Friday night,” her coworker hummed, handing over the now clean plate to be dried. “Did you sign up?”

“No,” Y/n tiredly exhaled. It was pushing 8 o’clock and she still had one more hour until closing. Working at a popular diner gave Y/n the ability to save for college and an apartment, but it meant working more hours than what she legally was supposed to—on top of balancing school and band. “I have a pre-cal test on monday so I planned to stay in and study.”

“Oh c’mon! You’ve been itching to sign up all year—why back out now? All for a test you know you’ll get an A on?”

Y/n rolled her eyes, taking another plate to dry, “That’s reaching and you know it.”

“Y/n, you’re one of the smartest people in our grade. Literally will be in the top five come graduation. It’s a Friday night and the whole school is gonna be there,” her friend pleads to her, “you’ve got a voice that’s meant to be heard and songs that should be on the radio.”

The teen gives a ‘I don’t think so,’ shrug, “Eh, I feel my style is not exactly what country music is looking for.”

“Maybe so…but maybe it’s what it needs.”

Guitar in hand and shaking like a leaf, Y/n pulled everything in her to drum her fingers on the strings. The spotlight shining down on her made her squint, unable to see into the crowd save for the silhouette of their heads.

“Just breathe, Y/n,” she mentally told herself. It was dead quiet in the auditorium after a light applause when the drama teacher called her name. And since she wasn’t using an electric guitar, there was no way to hook hers up to the speakers. “Breathe and let your voice do the work.”

Clearing her throat, her lips curled into a shy smile, “This is an original song I’ve been working on. Hope you like it.” Slowly the tune began to echo through the auditorium. Y/n’s voice was shaky at the beginning, but soon found confidence when she closed her eyes and pictured herself in the comfort of her own room.

“We were both young when I first saw you.”

“I close my eyes and the flashback starts, I’m standing’ there.”

“On a balcony in summer air.”

Those in the crowd perked up, schoolmates looking at each other with impressed gazes.

“See the lights, see the party, the ball gowns.”

“See you make your way through the crowd, and say, “Hello.”

“Little did I know.”

Finally finding her rhythm, a genuine grin broke out on her face.

“That you were Romeo, you were throwin’ pebbles.”

“And my daddy said, “Stay away from Juliet—and I was cryin’ on the staircase,”

“Beggin’ you, “Please don’t go,” she let her voice drag out the ‘go’, igniting jaws to be dropped. “And I said.”

“Romeo, take me somewhere we can be alone. I'll be waiting, all there’s left to do is run.”

“You’ll be the prince and I’ll be the princess.”

“It’s a love story, baby, just say, ‘Yes.’”

Needless to say, Y/n went home with the winning trophy….and a meeting with Capitol Records Nashville.

Going to college was no longer the plan for Y/n once her signature hit the contract. 3 albums and a promise to take country music by storm was the new future. Staring as soon as her tassel turned from right to left with the class of 2004. Y/n packed up her tiny Honda Civic with everything she had, kissed her family goodbye with plans to see them for the holidays and settled into a cozy studio apartment smack in the middle of Nashville.

“You have a unique voice and lyrical direction, Y/n,” Randy Kingston, one of the execs at CRN said to her one day. “You’re not full country—by that I mean there’s a pop element you bring to the table. Country-Pop if you will.”

Y/n didn’t know how to respond except nod, “Uhhh yeah? I listen to a lot of different genres—-Pop being a big one. A-and I like to experiment by adding different….flavors to my music.” Her expression turns nervous, “is that gonna be a problem, sir?”

Randy rubbed the bottom of his chin with a hand, “No, I don’t think it will. It’s refreshing and something new. Frankly I think you’re gonna do well with the youngin’s. Your age range will likely be the best receivers.”

Turns out Randy was right. Releasing her first two singles were met with wide recognition from teenagers and young adults. Topping the country music charts for several weeks. During that time Y/n began working on her debut self-titled album on top of filming her first music video for ‘Love Story’. When it dropped, it didn’t just get noticed within the country scene. MTV released it during their early morning showings most people played when getting ready for school and work. Doing so allowed ‘Love Story’ to get more attention that people who were not even country fans were purchasing the single.

“Platinum?!” Y/n screamed at the sight of the framed record indicating ‘Love Story’ sold one million copies.

“Platinum,” Randy grinned, presenting it to her. “Well done, kiddo. You deserve it.” He also dropped the ball that Ellen Degeneres called to schedule an appearance—which nearly had Y/n drop the frame in her hands.

The Ellen Degeneres Show was the first public interview Y/n had ever done. And….it was the first time she was questioned about her love life. Something that would become her greatest nemesis throughout her entire career.

“So your song ‘Love Story’ is all about love, yes?” Ellen asked, igniting a laugh from the audience given the title of the song made it obvious what it was about.

“Yes.”

“So does that mean you got some love going on for yourself? Anyone who inspired this for you?”

“U-Uh, no?” It came out more like a question, causing the audience to laugh while she nervously smiled. “Not really—I-I’m not dating anyone currently, but the song sorta came from my love for romance novels and movies. Everyone desires love,” she nods to herself, “and I wanted to write something that people could relate to. Plus I love Romeo and Juliet—which is the big inspiration for the song.”

Following the appearance on Ellen, Y/n focused on writing music and releasing her albums. Her unique sound of combining country with elements of pop and R&B had listeners from all over the world drawn to her. It was a new era of country music.

But not everyone was very accepting of it.

Older generations and die hard lovers of traditional country were very unwelcoming to Y/n. They felt she didn’t belong in the genre and was better suited for pop. Though Y/n agreed to some extent, she feared making the transition from country to full pop wouldn’t be wise. She was still roughly new to the industry, trusting the judgment of her label who she was contracted to do 3 albums for. So she continued to fulfill her duty until the right moment came.

By the end of the first decade in the 21st century, Y/n had established herself one of the leading artists in country music with four Grammys, six MTV Moonmen, four AMA’s, five Billboard awards and 12 CMA’s. She appeared twice on SNL, performed at Dick Clark’s New Year Rockin’ Eve, and even collaborated with Miranda Lambert.

Yet the media liked to only talk about Y/n’s dating history.

In the first year of her career, Y/n briefly dated Jesse McCartney after first meeting at the 2005 Kids Choice Awards. Shortly after their breakup she was seen with Harry Potter actor Tom Felton, but nothing came out of it. The ‘date’ the media thought had actually been a handout between several of their mutual friends where they happened to be pictured smiling and laughing. After that incident Y/n did get into a five month long relationship with Leonardo DiCaprio, who was twelve years older than her and sparked endless conversation in the media.

Then in 2007-2009 Y/n became involved with Eddie Redmayne following their introduction to each other at Ellen Degeneres’ birthday party. They remained friends afterwards, but their relationship inspired a lot of Y/n’s work which resulted in people criticizing her for making too many break up songs.

“You’ve had quite the track record when it comes to the romance scene, Y/n,” David Letterman voiced during her appearance on his show. The singer was overcome with immediate dread. Again was she subjected to questions about her love life when it was no one’s business. But of course, if there’s one thing men like David have, it’s the audacity. “Which brings me to my next questions: are you dating anyone? And are they gonna have a song about them once you two break up?”

Now unfortunately it was common knowledge late night show hosts were disrespectful towards their guests and didn’t know what boundaries were. Though this was known, however, there was still the underlying pressure to keep silent by smiling and pushing through. Sometimes playing it off like it doesn’t affect you was better than having an outburst and being criticized more by the media. Displaying any offense would label them emotional and sensitive.

Though she wanted nothing more than to walk off the set and cry in her dressing room, Y/n swallowed the lump in her throat and answered as calmly as she could muster. “I’m not seeing anyone at the moment. I just want to focus on my music and what comes from my heart is what I put out.”

When Y/n did get into a relationship or was seen on a friendly date—hell even being spotted when out with a male friend for lunch had paparazzi and tabloids bombarding her.

“Is love in the air….again? Country music’s it girl, 24-year-old Y/n L/n, was seen holding hands with Australian actor Xavier Samuel who’s playing Riley Biers in the upcoming third installment of The Twilight Saga. Just this past March Y/n was linked to the son of Tennessee’s Attorney General. Let’s not forget L/n was in a two year romance with Eddie Redmayne before calling it quits last fall. Fans are starting to notice a pattern when it comes to L/n’s relationships and album releases. Should we expect her new single to drop within the next year? And will this romance with Samuel blossom into something long term or end as a spur of the moment flame?”

Notice how all the attention is Y/n and her life? Never once were the men she dated ever asked questions like she was—even if they had a history rivaling hers. Take Leo for example. The women he dated only got younger than Y/n as the years went on and people barely bat an eye.

After the release of her third studio album with CRN, Y/n had a tough decision to make. By that point her last album had more pop than country. The reaction of the fans was pretty much, “You need to just label yourself a pop artist now.” “‘Red’ was literally 90% Pop with 10% Country.” “Stop saying you’re a country music star when the last album you put out was anything but country.”

So…it was safe to say it was time to make the move to a different genre. Thankfully Capitol Records in Los Angeles was ready with the pen in hand to sign Y/n on. There she had creative control on what she put out and Y/n was excited to get started on a new era in her life.

2012 would go down as the year where Y/n was on the edge of her seat with how her career would go. Fans were mixed about her going to pop despite her recent music having mostly pop elements. Then there was the fact she was dating Tyler Hoechlin from Teen Wolf which had fangirls hating her guts for dating their celebrity crush.

What’s sad is Y/n was used to that reception whenever she was in a relationship with a public figure. First Jesse then Tom, Leo, Eddie, and Xavier. Can’t forget the times she got caught on dates with Robert Pattinson, Micheal B. Jordan, and Chris Evans. Then there were the incidents where the paparazzi captured her making out with Sebastian Stan at an after party and leaving the 2011 Grammys with Nate Buzoliac before he made it big as Kol Mikaelson in The Vampire Diaries.

Getting a break was not in the cards for the singer.

When things ended with Tyler in 2015, Y/n told herself she would not date anyone for awhile. Her album ‘1986’ was met with critical acclaim and positive reception from fans, earning her more awards to her growing collection, including the Grammy for Album of the Year. The entire time on tour she focused on having fun and not worrying about what people thought of her. Yeah she still got questions from interviews and hosts about dating she’d simply reply with, “I’m single, and let’s not entertain that further. Next question.”

@ inmyreputationera: I guess @Y/nL/n86 decided romance isn’t exactly her thing. I wonder how that’ll change her music.

@ stanningselenerr: not me checking @ Y/ndatingupdates daily for any new info.

Those were just the handful of tweets Y/n saw everyday on her Twitter feed. It got to the point she’d have to mute notifications whenever she was tagged. While she hated doing so because she loved interacting with fans, the singer needed time away from the constant surveillance of her personal life.

So fast forward to mid-summer of 2018. Y/n hadn’t put out an album in nearly three years nor had she been dating anyone. Yeah people still asked her from time to time though she learned to not let it affect her. Honestly it was a breath of fresh air. She was happy, healthy, and living her best life. Putting her heart and soul into songwriting which was heavily inspired by the reputation she’d garnered since her debut. Not to mention developing closer bonds with her friends and family after making the impulse decision in 2017 to move back to Tennessee. It felt good to be back home. Returning to her roots and the place that started it all after being away for so many years. It was a great time.

Now she was due back to Los Angeles to meet with her manager and producers. Y/n was ready to get back into the studio as much as her fans were telling her they were waiting for new music. With a first-class ticket in hand, Y/n boarded her red-eye flight from Nashville International to LAX and settled in for the five hour flight. It would have them landing at just after 3am Pacific time and while Y/n wanted to rest, she could not for the life of her sleep on a plane.

Approaching her seat Y/n noticed a man in a military uniform seated in the seat beside hers. “Excuse me,” she caught his attention, his head raising where he put two and two together by her hand pointing to the window seat.

“Oh sorry, ma’am,” it took everything in Y/n not to stare at him when he got up. He was very handsome. In his uniform, hazel eyes and sun kissed skin. The most notable feature was his mustache that most men could not pull off yet he seemed to.

“Do you need help with that?” The question pulled her from her mini daydream. He was referring to the carryon bag in her hand.

“Oh I got it—.”

“It’s no problem,” he was already taking the bag from her, securing it in the overhead compartment.

“Thank you so much,” Y/n thanked him while moving into the row, placing her purse in her lap when she sat down. The man returned to his seat just as the next wave of passengers boarded.

Manny, her personal bodyguard who’d been with Y/n since her first tour, was seated in front of her. When they got the tickets he purposely told her to have them separated saying, “I need my beauty sleep and while I love you, you will talk the entire time.” Sure enough when Y/n leaned over to ask him a question Manny was already knocked out, buckled in with his eye mask over his eyes and earbuds in.

Well that left Y/n with little to do. And when she went to retrieve her Kindle she groaned at the realization she forgot to turn back her reading light.

“Everything okay?” She saw the man in her peripheral vision slightly turn his head.

“Yeah just…annoyed with myself. I thought I packed my reading light but I must’ve misplaced it.” God that made her sound like a grandma.

His response was an ‘ah’ sound. “Wish I could help ya there, but I’m not usually equipped with something like that.”

“It’s fine,” she chuckled, buckling in her seatbelt. “It was to pass the time—I can’t sleep on flights. Even though it's midnight and I should feel tired.”

“I’m the same,” he suddenly extended a hand, “I’m Bradley by the way.”

Hesitant to reply in case he were to react to her name, Y/n pushed back any concern and gave a warm smile as she took his hand, “I’m Y/n. Nice to meet you, Bradley.”

“Y/n…” her name was repeated slowly, Bradley’s eyes consorting as though they were deep in thought. A wave of dread and nerves coursed through her. Then Bradley grinned, “Oh! I thought you looked familiar. You sing that song—what was it, ‘Love Story?’ Sorry I don’t mean to sound weird,” he let go of her hand when he realized he was still shaking it. “And I don’t want to bother you. I just can’t help but go, ‘wow!’”

“No-no-no, it’s okay! You’re totally fine.” Before long the two fell into conversation following the typical pre-flight announcements. Y/n was amazed by how natural it felt talking to Bradley. She discovered he was a Naval aviator, coming home from an assignment overseas and was flying to L.A to visit some friends. Bradley had been a graduate of UVA and attended the elite Fighter Weapons School, marking ten years with the navy that year.

“Forgive me for admitting this,” he said after the first hour into the flight, lowering his voice when a passenger trying to sleep glared at them. “But while I know who you are…I’m not really familiar with your work. Y-yeah I mentioned your one song but that’s literally all I know,” he laughed nervously. “My taste in music, I’m embarrassed to say aloud, is very limited.”

Y/n tilts her head, “how limited?”

“Uh, I pretty much only listen to the 1950s all the way to the 80s. Dabbling in what’s popular nowadays once in a blue moon. My karaoke songs are all Jerry Lewis” Bradley gives a gentle smile, “And while I can easily do a Google search, I’d much rather hear it from you if you don’t mind telling me.”

What’s that saying again? Oh that’s right, ‘And the rest was history.’

No but literally Y/n could barely contain her attraction to Bradley after he said that to her. She hoped to God she didn’t look like a fool as she spoke of her career and cool places she’s been. Time flew as they talked. In fact the two were so caught up in their conversation they talked the remainder of the journey to L.A, ending with the exchange of phone numbers and the promise to meet up.

It was decided right from the get go that Bradley and Y/n wanted to keep their relationship hidden. Regardless if the one date went somewhere, the last thing Y/n wanted was to have Bradley in the public eye and cause complications with his job. And let’s not forget her album was releasing within the next year. So, there was going to be a lot of attention on her wherever she went.

“The fact we’ve managed to keep this quiet for a year is outstanding,” Y/n said through a mouthful of cake. Bradley had surprised her with her favorite kind, the icing on the top reading, ‘Happy Anniversary, baby—we’ve got them fooled.’

She couldn’t believe they were already marking one year. Time didn’t seem to exist when she was with Bradley. He was everything she envisioned in a partner. Caring, compassionate, funny, intuitive. Listened to her concerns and communicated. Never made her doubt herself or paid attention to the media.

When she brought up her reputation, or better yet the one the press painted her out to have, Bradley stopped her and said, “who you have history with is not my business—unless they did something to hurt you because then I’ll have a problem with them. And those people talking nonsense about you have nothing else better to do with themselves. I care about you, Y/n. The only one who has influence on how I see you, is you. And I see you as the most beautiful, hardworking, intelligent person who knows her worth. Fuck what they say.”

Yeah that night ended with her jumping his bones.

Bradley took a fork full of his own into his mouth, “I for sure thought they were gonna catch us the night I snuck you on base.” After their first meeting in L.A, Bradley had returned to Virginia while Y/n remained to work on her album. It was a couple months before she went home to Tennessee, then for the holidays they planned to meet up when Y/n was on her way to New York. Sneaking her on base involved the two going undercover where they met at a discreet location and having Y/n shove herself under blankets in his backseat.

The singer laughed at the memory, “Thank Goodness for Shania. Had she not posted that photo to ‘tip off’ the paps then we’d have a whole different outcome.” Bradley laughed with her, placing his fork down on the napkin.

“I’m sorry I can’t be there for your release day,” Bradley had been called back to Top Gun for a special detachment by the Navy. Unfortunately the timing was right when her sixth studio album would drop. The details were still unclear, but that it was a team mission where he would compete against his colleagues. Y/n had yet to meet any of Bradley’s friends and vice versa. The only people in her circle who knew of their relationship were her manager, Manny, and family. But when you signed up to keep your love life private, it meant friends were lost in the dark.

“It’s okay, Roo,” she told him. “We’ll have our own celebration.” Another cake, this time with the design being the album’s cover art on it, was brought over the day before Bradley was set to fly to San Diego and the two had their private release party with just the two of them. The music was blasting through the speakers, Y/n jumping up and down with Bradley who was singing at the top of his lungs.

“Band-aids don’t fix bullet holes! You say sorry just for show! If you live like that, you live with ghosts!”

“I’m in a getaway car. I left you in a motel bar. Put the money in a bag and I stole the key—that was the last time you ever saw me—Oh!”

“Ooh, look what you made me do! Look what you made me do! Look what you just made me do!”

Champagne was popped, kisses were shared, and they danced the entire night until it came time to sleep.

They FaceTimed whenever Bradley had free time, even if it was in the later hours of the night. Those three weeks Y/n felt her heart long for Bradley in a way it had never done with her previous partners. She felt his excitement, his distress. The day he left for the mission Y/n paced around her home for hours—unable to focus on anything and overcome with nausea. It was as though her mind was trying to tell her something was wrong.

Relief came at around nightfall, the singer tripping as she raced to grab her phone when it rang. Seeing Bradley’s picture pop up had the breath she was holding in release. “Oh thanks God,” was the first thing she said.

“I’m coming back to you,” was his response. Tears pricked in the corner of her eyes, hand going to her chest to calm the rapid beat of her heart.

“I would expect nothing less, Lieutenant Bradshaw.”

Several celebrations were in store for the couple when Bradley returned to the east coast. Not only did he receive a medal from the Navy for his brave actions but got a promotion. Y/n’s album hit #1 on the Billboard Hot 100 in the first hour of its release, prompting a record number of sales in a single night for the singer.

“I’m so proud of you, Bradley,” she praised, patting the new patch on his uniform indicating he was now a Lieutenant Commander. She was met with a sweet kiss on the lips.

“Thank you, baby. I’m proud of you too—you’re gonna win everything come awards season.”

During the 2020 Grammy’s, Bradley leaped from the couch in absolute joy when Y/n’s name was called for the winner of Pop Album of the Year and Record of The Year. She missed out on Album of the Year, but that was okay. She was now the owner of 12 Grammys in total. Coming home the following night Y/n’s home was decorated with balloons, a banner reading, ‘Congratulations!!’ and of course, a cake with an edible Grammy topper.

And so it came time for a break. Six albums in a fifteen-year long career, Y/n kept it under the wraps that she wouldn’t be putting out another album for some time. Fans had started to notice she was more uplifted and vibrant in interviews, posting things on social media that were suspicious. For example she uploaded a photo of red roses, captioning it “the symbol of love.” Then there was the screenshotting of well known love songs and posting them on her story.

@ Y/nstansince04: is it me or does @Y/nL/n86 appear happier than usual? Is she hiding something?

@ getawaycarlover_: @Y/nL/n86 totally has a man or someone in her life. That recent Instagram post had all the hints.

@ fearlessdefender: I bet it’s a normal guy she’s with and not a celebrity. If it was we’d probably would’ve known by now who it was.

@ Y/ns_red_lipstick: honestly if Y/n does have a boyfriend then I’m happy for her and wish them the best. She deserves to be happy and we should respect their privacy. She doesn’t have to share with the world if it’s their desire to keep it secret.

Right when the world went to chaos at the brink of a global pandemic, Y/n thought, “you know what, I’m gonna just delete my social media—not my accounts but the apps on my phone. I want to go off the grid for a bit and just enjoy my family and boyfriend.” Not having the constant shadow of social media on her back made it easier for the singer on the break she desired.

Everyday she fell more in love with Bradley. She had been visiting him when quarantine happened so they basically went to the next step in their relationship by living together. Again, it all felt natural. They settled into a domestic life with each other early on with homemade dinners, movie nights, nerf gun wars, and karaoke contests. Bradley on the piano and Y/n with her guitar, being each other’s act and audience in their private concert.

“You shake my nerves and you rattle my brain. Too much love drives a man insane. You broke my will, but what a thrill. Goodness gracious, great balls of fire!”

“Romeo take me somewhere we can be alone. I’ll be waiting, all there’s left to do is run. You’ll be the prince and I’ll be the princess. It’s a love story, baby just say, ‘Yes!’”

Late nights were reserved for drives with the speakers blasting. Y/n camera roll would be filled with endless videos of the two, but mostly of Bradley jamming to his favorite songs. More often than usual the thought of, “I’m gonna marry this man,” would cross her mind.

“You ain’t nothin’ but a hound dog. Cryin’ all the time. You ain’t nothin’ but a hound dog. Cryin’ all the time. Well, you ain’t never caught a rabbit and you ain’t no friend of mine!”

Y/n would lean her body out the window when it was a clear road where they were the only ones, hair blowing and the light from the moon shining down on her. Her beautiful voice carried in the night sky, Bradley in absolute awe of her and wanting to capture the moment forever.

“I came home in the mornin’ light—my mother says, ‘when you gonna live your life right?’ Oh momma dear, we’re not the fortunate ones. And girls, they wanna have fun. Oh girls just wanna have fun!”

But was supposed to be maybe two years at most…..ended up being close to five.

Honestly Y/n was surprised to still have fans. To say they were shitting bricks when she out of the blue dropped a cover art for her upcoming single, ‘Love’ would be an understatement. They were losing their fucking minds.

@ Y/nwhereforartthou: IS THIS REALLY HAPPENING OH MY FUCKING SHIT! PLEASE TELL ME THIS AINT A JOKE Y/N IS COMING BACK AFTER FIVE FUCKING YEARS

@ stilladirectionerbby: *insert Micheal Scott gif* OH MY GOD IT’S HAPPENING—Y/N’S RELEASING NEW MUSIC

@ MTV: when all hope was lost, our prayers were answered….by @Y/nL/n86

Then she announced in the same week they were getting not one but two albums that year.

@ themadalorianswife: TWO ALBUMS?!?! WE GETTING TWO?!?! GOD FUCKING BLESS

@ daddyisastateofmind: oh mother is spoiling us after making us wait so long and I absolutely am here for it.

@ neveroutofstyle_: love how @Y/nL/n86 basically said “this is my sorry for falling off the face of the earth, please forgive me.” On behalf of the fandom, we forgive you queen.

And wanna know something else?

What was even more impressive than becoming a ghost for five years with little to no sightings by the paparazzi, was that she and Bradley had yet to be discovered. Her lover was just as good of a ghost as she was. Their secret was like trying to find the Holy Grail.

Hidden like a treasure the world desired to unearth.

And on their six year anniversary, Bradley got them the same cake as the first time he did. The icing reading, "Happy 7 years, baby—we’ve totally got them fooled.”

…………….

TGM Tag list: @avaleineandafryingpan , @caitsymichelle13 , @poppyalice2001 , @cutelittlepotatofry , @luckyladycreator2 , @americaarse , @elenavampire21 , @back-tooo-black , @wildellaa , @artemissunn , @pinkpantheris

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