#DONT HAVE TO REACH UP UP UP TO TRACE HIS FRECKLES | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

doll3tt33 · 2 months

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‘cause when you know you know ⊹ ࣪ ˖

Summary: As you and Colin snuggled in bed, your attention was drawn to a note peeking out from his pocket. Despite his insistence that it held no significance, his anxious and secretive behavior seemed to speak louder than his words…

Tags: fluff, fem!reader, usage of Y/N (only a couple times), an anxious Colin and an overly curious reader who overthinks a loooot

Not that I think anyone’s gonna be mean, BUT PLEASE DONT BE. I HIGHKEY FEEL INSECURE ABOUT THIS 😭😭 THE PLOT FEELS RLY JUVENILE

"Nineteen... Twenty... Twenty-one! Twenty-one cute lil' freckles on your body, from head to toe," Colin declared triumphantly.

"Are you done yet, ya big doofus?" You rolled your eyes, giving Colin a playful shove. Colin, also known as the "idiot big spoon on your bed," wouldn't stop pestering you or your bare flesh.

"Uh, no? I didn't count for nothing. You know what I'm gonna do next?"

"I shudder to think! But please, do enlighten me," you replied in an airy tone, though curiosity shone through your feigned exasperation.

Seeing every subtle change in your expression was Colin's special talent, one he took pride in. As he gazed at you now, his face broke into that familiar, dorky grin you found so endearing.

His finger traced over the freckle on your shoulder. "I'm gonna kiss each of those lovely freckles on your equally lovely body... twenty-one times. Now c'mere!" he exclaimed, beckoning you closer. "Lemme shower my beautiful girl with some good ol' fashioned affection!"

Before you could protest, Colin swept you into his arms, holding you close against his warm chest. Soft giggles escaped as his lips began to tenderly graze each freckle, starting at your cheek and trailing lower. You squirmed in his grasp, half-heartedly attempting to twist away from his affectionate assault even as another peal of laughter bubbled up.

Undeterred by your token resistance, Colin continued peppering gentle kisses over your skin. His smile pressed against the mole on your neck, then lower to your shoulder and chest.

While Colin had you pinned beneath him, giggling and squirming, you spied a corner of paper protruding from his jeans pocket. Seizing the chance, you snatched it up while his hands were otherwise occupied.

"Ooooh... well well, what do we have here, detective?" you teased, waving the paper tauntingly. "Looks like I've found myself a clue! Hm... I wonder what mysteries it holds."

Colin instantly realized his blunder and made a swipe for the paper, but you held it out of reach. "Could it be a top-secret case file? Or... the numbers to your credit card? Really hope it’s the latter."

His eyes went round as saucers at the sight of the stolen paper in your grasp. In a flash, he snatched it back, hastily stuffing it deep down into his pocket.

"Nothing!- It's nothing, really," he said a little too quickly, his eyes darting about nervously. "Jus’ an old scrap from work is all, absolutely nothing to see here.”

But Colin knew you too well to be dissuaded so easily. The spark of intrigue in your gaze was fixed squarely upon the pocket concealing a supposed "old scrap." He recognized that look—once your curiosity was piqued, nothing could satisfy it but the truth.

"Nah, that definitely looks like something to me," you replied, your eyes still fixed on the hidden paper.

Colin chuckled nervously. "No. Don’t you dare start now. Just do me a favor and turn those pretty lil' eyes of yours away, 'kay?"

He even attempted to gently guide your head in the opposite direction with his hand, but your determination was unyielding. You refused to budge, still staring and now pouting. "Hey, don't push my head around! Just show me, please, Col? Pretty please?"

"Hm... pretty please, huh?" Colin pretended to ponder, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "Yeah, sorry, still no."

"Pretty please with a cherry on top?"

"No."

"With two cherries on top? Three cherries and whipped cream?"

"Y/N. No. A gazillion cherries on top won't cut it. Seriously, there's nothing on that stupid piece of paper!" Colin insisted with a chuckle, raising his hands in mock surrender.

You weren't convinced, noting the telltale signs that said otherwise - his overly casual tone, the tightness at the corners of his smile, the fidgeting fingers now plucking at a loose thread on the blanket. You could smell a load of bullshit right in this very bed. Colin had many strengths, but lying was definitely not one of them.

"Hm."

Your eyes narrowed into slits, harboring great suspicion at your nervous wreck of a boyfriend beside you. You leaned in closer, and he shrank back just as quickly, as if he were afraid you could smell the truth out of him.

"You're acting oddly suspicious," you observed. "Is it me, or do I feel like you're lying big time right now?"

Colin waved his hands as if to ward you off. "Woah woah, easy there now! I'm not lyin’. Can we just drop this now, please?" His voice pitched higher in a tell-tale sign of nerves.

You let out a whine. "But I know you're lying. Just tell me the truth already. I'm dying over here!"

"No, I won't. 'Cause like I said, I'm not lyin'!" Like he would actually tell the truth. You could practically see the sweat glistening on Colin's forehead. This man had a knack for getting incredibly anxious when faced with confrontation. Seeing him like this, a new emotion began to overshadow your initial eagerness to uncover the truth - fear. It crept up from the depths of your stomach, intensifying with each passing moment. A multitude of "what-ifs" swirled in your mind, ideas bouncing off the walls of your hyperactive brain, all trying to decipher what on earth could your boyfriend be hiding on that piece of paper.

As Colin fidgeted nervously, your mind raced through possibilities for what the paper contained. The most plausible - and worrying - scenario was another woman’s number. If that was the case, why didn’t he just come clean and tell you? He had always been open and honest with you about everything. Plus, there had never ever been a reason to doubt his unwavering loyalty... well, until now.

Lost in thought, you barely noticed Colin waving a hand in front of your face. "Earth to Y/N? You still with me?" he asked gently, peering at you with concern.

Lifting your head up to meet his worried gaze, there was a mix of confusion and disbelief evident in your eyes as you prepared to utter the words you never thought you'd say.

"That piece of paper... does it happen to have some lady's phone number written on it?"

"You can be honest, I promise I won't get mad," you assured, mentally bracing yourself to be hit with whatever response awaited.

“Huh?”

Your assumption clearly took Colin by surprise. Instead of the guilt-ridden glimmer you anticipated in his eyes, you were met with a face of sheer astonishment. Frantically shaking his head, he hurried closer to you on the bed, gently taking your hands in his.

"No nonononono- not the case at all! Not even close, I swear to God. It's just I-... um," he protested urgently, meeting your gaze with an intensity aimed at conveying his sincerity. Relief softened your smile, allowing him to continue.

"No lady gave me her phone number. All the paper has on it is... something I wrote. For you." A touch of pink rose in his cheeks as he dropped his eyes shyly. "A silly, overly sentimental thing that is, well, cheesy. And I mean really cheesy."

Your expression twisted to one tinged with guilt as you realized the weight of your relentless probing, falsely assuming Colin's disloyalty. Furrowing your brow, you directed an apologetic gaze in his direction.

"Shit, I'm sorry Col. I didn't mean to jump to conclusions like that. But honestly, you don't have to hide anything from me, no matter how silly you think it is."

"And hey, I'm a sucker for cheese!" you added playfully, giving his arm an affectionate squeeze. "So whatever sappy words you wrote, I promise not to tease - much."

You graced him with a fond smile, hoping to ease his nerves. Colin swallowed hard, visibly steeling himself before digging back up the crumpled-up paper from his pocket. His shoulders lost some of their tension as he smoothed it out, lips quirking up at his own words.

"Oh boy... you asked for it. You're gonna be on a ride to cheese-land supreme with this one."

After a brief moment of silence, he took a steady breath, breaking the stillness in the air. He sat up straight, preparing himself.

"Alright, here goes..." He cleared his throat softly before reading.

"Dear Y/N... I know I should be focused on our latest case, but try as I might, I really cannot get a certain beautiful someone out of my head," he began, lips curling up as he skimmed his words.

"So here I sit, scribbling these sappy words on this flimsy piece of paper like a schoolboy, instead of working as I should. Terrible form, I know." At his own joke within, Colin let out a quiet chuckle and glanced up to gauge your reaction. Finding only fondness and encouragement, he relaxed enough to continue baring his heart through the silly note he'd written.

"I know my work can keep me away too long, and that you feel neglected at times. But please believe that you are always in my thoughts."

He risked a playful glance your way. "Even when you always find a way to talk my ear off or sprawl out to take up the whole couch, you still are.”

He continued, his voice growing softer. "But your quirks could never outweigh all my favorite little things about you, because I love you. I truly do.

Just like how I love that your smile and dimples are the first thing I notice when you step into the room.

Or how I love that your eyes light up at the mere mention of chocolate ice cream, and you'd beg me to buy you some even when you're full.

How I love that your brows crinkle when you think too hard and too long about something.

And how I love that you're the first person I think of waking up in the morning, and the last person I think of going to sleep.

You made me realize that when you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible."

You weren't expecting that, you truly weren't. Colin's heartfelt words truly touched you. As the first happy tears slipped free, you couldn't help but embrace him tightly.

Though startled at first, he quickly melted into your arms, ever your safe harbor. His familiar, comforting touch - a hand stroking your back, lips pressing softly to your forehead - undid you completely.

"Aw shucks, don't cry on me now," he soothed gently. But you could only burrow closer, overcome by gratitude and love for this man. He understood you so perfectly, from your quirks to your heart.

"Those better be tears from happiness and not tears from how god-awful that was," Colin laughed warmly as he wiped the last of your tears.

"No, it wasn't bad at all. For real."

"For-real for-real?"

"Well, okay, it was a tiiiny bit cheesy. But from the heart, which is what matters."

"Annnd if I detected a certain scene or two borrowed from 'When Harry Met Sally', who am I to judge?" You teased.

Colin gave an exaggerated sigh. "Alright, alright, you caught me copying shamelessly." His eyes were warm as he tucked an errant lock of hair behind your ear.

"But I meant every word, cheesy or not. Now c'mere you." Pulling you close once more, he pressed a tender kiss to your lips. His words, however awfully cheesy (and a bit unoriginal) they may be, had completely warmed your heart nonetheless.

author’s note:

This feels kinda cringe, I honestly have no idea what I was doing with this tbh 😭 I’m on my period so I kinda got into the feels, then I saw that one scene from ‘When Harry met Sally’, and thought it’d be a good idea to write a fic

In all honesty, I just wanted an excuse to write about Colin, and perhaps strengthen my writing skills ((still mostly because of Colin tho

divider credit: @/vg-k

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sapphic-gardn · 6 months

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i will

ellie williams x f!reader

summary: grief is complex and painful, ellie comforts you.

warnings: mentions of grief, nudity, ellie and reader take a bath together, mentions of boogers (yk when u have a runny nose from crying? yeah), no specific descriptions of reader other than having boobies and flesh, i dont think there is anything else but let me know!

word count: 1.3k

a/n: hi! i’ve returned from my hundred year long hiatus to torment you all. i started writing this comfort piece while i was experiencing life at Rock Bottom. i also found a lot of inspiration from the song i will by mitski <3 also thank you to @hier--soir for helping me with this one 💓 your writing inspires me, truly—i appreciate you tons & tons.

You find yourself curled up on the floor, the crisp breeze sweeping in from the crack under your front door. Chills dance over your skin, seeping into your body, coating your organs in a thin layer of ice. Your tears shed with a blue hue, painting your lips in a sheer lapis tint. Teeth chatter, bone against bone, reminders of the skeleton that is burrowed beneath layers of adipose tissue. Each exhale is accompanied by a dull ache.

Nights bring you here, disentangling your limbs from the warm confines of cotton sheets, calculated movements so as to not wake your girlfriend from slumber. The numbness creeps in through obscured dreams, visions of faces, now ghosts that haunt every distant memory. You emerge from the darkness, featherlight footsteps over creaky floors, loitering around the house amidst bewitching hours. You converse with the night sky, a one-sided interaction that mostly consists of your pleas—tell me why. Grief consumes you like tidal waves swallowing the shoreline. A mere particle of sand engulfed in foam, getting propelled further, further away from dry land.

The vibrations of Ellie’s bare feet padding on the wooden floor rumble through you. Her rasp breaks the silence. Baby—the only word that leaves her chapped lips, a pitiful tone leaking from her honeyed voice. Her hand caresses your tear stained cheek. Upon contact, a shrill sob rips through your larynx. You choke on anguish that rises like bile, it burns your esophagus as it creeps up.

Gentle hands guide your tenuous form to your feet, securing themselves at your sides. Subtle squeezes to the meat of your hips, wordlessly speaking—I’m here.

In your hazy state, you’re waltzed to the bathroom. One of Ellie’s hands fumbles with the light switch while she delicately maneuvers your entirety to sit upon the closed toilet seat. Cold porcelain hits the backs of your thighs, you hiss at the contact, a wince paints your expression. Ellie coos your name, a hushed thing that warms you from the inside. You study her features, a line forms between her furrowed brows, her green eyes searching for your own. Her gaze brings a settling feeling, something like a merciful wake up call. Ellie’s earthy scent mingles with the air. You inhale, the musky essence settles in your lungs, growing limbs and reaching for your heart; wrapping itself around the muscle in a tight embrace.

A tear slips past your waterline, her calloused thumb swiftly catches it as it trails down your cheek. A smile tugs at Ellie’s lips, “You’ve got boogers,” she gestures to your mucin coated upper lip with her pointer finger. An involuntary chortle escapes your mouth, alighting your saddened expression, “There she is, my pretty girl.”

Her focus shifts to the tub beside you, leaving the spot in front of you to turn the faucet on. Ellie peers over her shoulder to look back at you, “Let’s get you warmed up, yeah?”

Her digits fiddle with the running water as it warms, you examine the way her tendons tug at her knuckles, the freckled skin pulled taut with each swipe under the stream of water. Your eyes land on her side profile, you trace the shape of her nose and the protrusion of her pout like an etch a sketch to your brain. You count the freckles on her face, connecting them like constellations. Admiration blooms in your chest, you clutch your shirt where your heart beats faster.

Once the tub fills halfway, Ellie is undressing you—delicately tugging at the hem of your sleep shirt, pulling the thin material over the peaks and valleys of your body. Her touch is silken, it tickles your nerve endings, chills awaken beneath her fingertips. With each sliver of skin revealed, she whispers, beautiful, you’re so beautiful. And in these moments, you believe her, she utters the words with such conviction. You breathe with ease, allowing yourself to surrender to the woman disarming you.

She guides you towards the tub. Soft hands on your arm, your waist. That low, rasping voice in your ear, one foot, now the other… easy now, until you’re over the lip of the tub and being lowered into warm water. You let yourself sink a little lower, feel the water lap over your neck, your hair. You tilt your head back until everything is submerged except your face. Your eyes close, listening. You let the pressure of the water beat against your eardrums. Oceanic sounds bounce around inside your skull. For a split moment you are the sand and the sea, a shell burrowed in the earth.

When your eyes open, you meet the longing gaze of your partner. She admires the halo-shape your hair forms as it floats, the curve of your breasts breaking the surface, the way your tummy moves in waves with each steady inhale and exhale.

Your eyes wander to where Ellie is stepping out of her boxers, peeling her worn tank top over her auburn bed head, discarding the article in the tile. Her focus never falters from you. She looks so beautiful like this, the soft white light casting an illuminating glow to her supple skin. You sit up, folding your legs in, scooting forward—silent invitations. With two long strides, Ellie’s lanky limbs are climbing into the tub behind you. Your bodies mingle, arms and legs tangle and untangle, an uncoordinated tango.

Ellie surrounds you, she is everywhere. The warmth radiating from her coats every inch of your flesh like a blanket. Her thighs are pressed up against the sides of your own, caging you in, the physical security plucking away at your guardedness. Slippery arms snake around your middle, a vice grip pressing you against her front. You feel her heartbeat thump against your ribcage, feel her chest rise and fall with each breath. A connection so primal, so powerful, tethering you to her. Her lips graze the crook of your neck, a sigh escapes you, releasing the tension held in your abdomen. Taught muscles unfurl; a calmness washes over your senses.

Ellie begins to hum, short breaths tickling the shell of your ear. You recognize the song, familiar but just out of reach.

“What are you singing, baby?”

Ellie hushes you, “Shh, shh, just listen to me.”

Her gravelly tone recites the lyrics, “When all my hair turns grey, enter our twilight years,” you listen intently, the song bubbling at the forefront of your mind. A memory plays, placing a fragile disc in your record player, the needle spinning in its grooves, Ellie excitedly rehashing how she found it on patrol.

Both of you sat on the couch that night and tuned in, entwined and entranced. During the fourth song, Ellie stood, offering a hand—dance with me. And so, your bodies swayed around the living room as one entity. “And our friendships slip away, finding it hard to hear.”

Ellie memorized the lyrics, serenading you for weeks, “No I’ll never be afraid, as long as I still have you,” confessing her feelings through the Alessi Brothers.

And now, she croons the same song, “Together in an ocean of life / Just yours and mine / Motionless time / Love is the answer to eternal life.” Easing your mind, caroling the words that never come easy to her in conversation. Reminders of the fire you alight within her, the tenderness you pull out of her.

She is the breeze, the fierce wind that wrestles with the water. She reels you in from the deep end, a lifeline cast before you take your final breath. Her presence is a sanctuary, your vulnerability takes refuge in her arms—your safe haven.

[end]

a/n: hiii!! if you read this all the way through, thank you! it’s my first time posting an ellie fic so i’m a liiiitle nervous eeee! also im a little rusty on my writing so forgive me if this sucks 🧍🏽‍♀️ and i gave up on editing my last read through bc i need to get this fic out or i will never post it

i have an ellie series and a one shot planned out so hopefully it won’t take me a lifetime to post those!!! okieee byeeee 💓

tagging moots: @ilovepedro @gracieheartspedro @undrthelights @daydreamingmiller @chaotic-mystery @cavillscurls @amanitacowboy (idk who else to tag i dont have an official taglist lol why is this so embarrassing)

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams fanfic #sapphic-gardn fics

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sunshinesteviee · 1 year

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omggg i loved the prompts you posted! emotional intimacy and pillow talk is just *chefs kiss*, if youre looking for prompts maybe:

❝ you always touch me just the right way. ❞ &❝ do you even realize what you do to me? ❞

with reader and steve whispering to each other in the dark, it doesn't have to be smut! I just thought steve would love to hear his girl say that to him after when they're cuddling. you can ignore this if you dont like it tho haahahah

i'm so so sorry this took forever to get to; i've had a lot going on, but finally got around to writing it!! i hope you like it! wc: 703

Steve is already under the sheets again by the time you re-emerge from the bathroom in your underwear and one of his shirts. He’s sprawled out on his back, sheets bunched around his waist, bare torso on display in a way that makes you want to jump his bones, even though you’ve just had sex. A soft smile stretches across his face when he notices you standing in the doorway, and he reaches an arm out towards you, motioning for you to get back in bed with him. You can’t resist him, not even for a second, and flick the bathroom lights off, flooding your bedroom in darkness.

You don’t need lights to find your way back to bed, and crawl up the length of it, flopping into Steve’s waiting arms. Your landing next to him is maybe a bit too aggressive, as he groans, “Oof, baby, jeez. Warn a guy the next time you’re gonna body slam him.”

“Sorry, baby,” you giggle, shimmying underneath the sheets to press your body into his. Your hand slides across his bare chest as you turn to your side and press your cheek into his shoulder, one leg hitching up over his.

“‘S okay,” he murmurs in reply, voice muffled by your hair as he kisses the top of your head. You can’t see his face, but you can hear the smile in his voice; you can picture his soft hazel eyes and his pretty freckles as his lips tug up at the corners. He’s beautiful inside and out, and you want nothing more than to spend forever just like this.

A large, warm hand settling against the exposed skin of your thigh draws you out of your thoughts. Steve’s touch is gentle as his fingertips draw down the back of your thigh toward your knee to keep you pressed close, the pad of his thumb rubbing soothing circles onto the inside of your knee. He presses another kiss to the crown of your head as he asks quietly, “You okay?”

“Mhm,” you reply somewhat absentmindedly, tilting your chin up so you can press a kiss in return to your sweet boyfriend’s jaw.

“Was it okay for you?”

He’s asked you before, usually equal parts sincerity and in jest, and it’s always dorky and endearing. The question makes you want to laugh, though; Steve is, by far, the most generous and skilled lover you’ve ever had, and to suggest anything otherwise is ludicrous. But you humor him nonetheless, appreciating that he cares that you enjoy yourself, “Yeah, Stevie, of course. Do you even realize what you do to me?”

You can feel his laugh more than you can hear it with your head on his chest. His hand sweeps along the length of your thigh again as he asks, “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” you murmur as you place your hand on your boyfriend’s chest, fingertips tracing delicately over freckles and moles, along the edges of rough scars adorning his sides, “that you always make me feel good. You always touch me just the right way. Swear you know my body better than I do sometimes.”

Steve laughs again, softer this time, as if a little flustered. His hand closes around your shoulder and he pulls you in even closer, lips pressing to your forehead in a light kiss, “Hope so. ‘Ve spent enough time getting acquainted.”

Letting out a groan, you push your face into Steve’s chest, which pulls another giggle out of him, “Ugh, shut up! I’m trying to be serious, and you’re being a perv.” And even though you’re trying to admonish him, you can’t help but to dissolve into giggles, too, the sound muffled against his skin as he holds you close.

When the giggling from the both of you finally subsides, Steve gets serious, lips pursed as he pushes a few stray hairs out of your face. The tip of his nose rubs against yours as he leans in and whispers, “I love you. Ya know that? And you make me feel the same way.” And then, before you can reply, Steve leans in and presses his lips to yours. Kisses you like he’ll never be able to get enough. Like this might be his last chance, even though you plan on kissing him like this for the rest of your life.

"I love you, too, Stevie."

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #blurbs #my blurbs #steve blurbs #sunshinesteviee writing #sunshinesteviee

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bbyquokka · 1 year

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hi! i hope you’re having a lovely day/night 💖

Pillow talk with felix x shy s/o consisting of hugs, kisses, counting freckles and butterfly kisses 😩

so cute! ;-; i you have a lovely day/night too, anon! 🖤

FLUFF BELOW CUT

warnings: gn!reader, implications of a previous intimate moment, pet names, a lot of fluff!

“how are you feeling, love?” Felix shuffles onto his side to look at you. you blush softly, nuzzling into the duvet as you look at him.

“im feeling good, lixie.”

“i didn't go too hard on you, did i?” you shake your head no fast, the pink tint slowly turning red.

“no. it was perfect.”

“you're perfect.”

“oh, shut up.” you mumble, covering your face with your hands.

“hey” Felix lifts himself up, removing your hands from your face “dont hide that beautiful face of yours.” you whimper softly, nodding before letting out laughs and soft squeals due to Felix planting kisses all over your face.

forehead, temple, the bridge and tip of your nose, cupid's bow and lastly, your lips.

you hum, kissing back before Felix rests his head back onto the pillow. you shuffle close to you, resting on his pillow as he smiles lovingly at you.

“why did you pick me, lix?” you question out of curiosity.

“i didn't pick you, baby. fate happened. you're the most beautiful, most caring person i know and i wouldn't have it any other way. i feel so alive with you, so loved. when you're close to me, i feel warm.” Felix looks down at you, stroking your hair “you're home to me, y/n. my safe place.”

“lixie...” you breathe out, feeling your heart burst and butterflies exploding in your stomach. “you're also my safe place to.”

“i just, love you so much! i didn't think it was capable of anyone to love someone so much yet, here i am – totally and utterly smitten for you.” you reach up, tracing his freckles with the tip of your finger, connecting them together.

“your freckles are like constellations. if we connect them, i'm sure we can find something.” you whisper. Felix smiles lovingly at you, taking your hand in his and planting a kiss on your palm.

“marry me, y/n” your eyes widen, heart pounding in your chest as you stifle a laugh.

“funny joke Lixie.”

“im not joking. marry me, y/n.” his tone of voice is soft, yet serious indicating that he isn't joking at all.

“b-but.. i–”

“i love you so much, y/n that i want to spend the rest of my life with you! i don't see myself with anyone else but you. my life is meaningless without you.” Felix plays with your fingers, a light blush on his cheeks. “i know it's so sudden and out of the blue, so you don't have to answer straight away, but i just fucking love you so much that it hurts.”

“lixie...” you whisper, nuzzling into his neck. your lashes brush and flutter against his skin, Felix holding the back of your head gently as his fingers comb through your hair.

“im sorry if it was too–”

“yes.” you interpret him.

“huh??” you pull away from his neck, a big smile on your lips as you look down at him. his eyes big and bright, filled with so much love and admiration for you that's it's suffocating, but in a good way.

“of course i'll marry you, lixie!”

→ TAGS [open]: @chaneomma | @sstarryoong | @meltheninja13 | @laylasbunbunny | @oshimee

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swifty-fox · 2 months

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Writing ask! 5, 14, and 21!

5. a description I'm proud of

from a book WIP of mine. Dom is why i fell so hard for Gale they're very similar lol

Dom hesitates a moment, then scoffs to himself, shrugging his jacket off and tugging his shirt off over his head. Instantly his skin goosepimples and he rests an uneasy hand on his bicep. Marks of a hard life were on his body. Not the excessive violence of movies and books; not the sort of thing that would garner stares, but Dom knew what the scars were from. Which were innocent human fuck-ups and which were inflicted by an angry parent with too much to drink and too little regard for kindness. His hurts didn’t have to leave marks on his skin to linger; a cigarette burn here, the stinging edge of a belt there, it was all headed by dark scriptwork, shocking against the pale skin and freckles of his shoulders.

Hands Off. No more than the length between the tip of his thumb and the base of his pinky, black ink turned blue and fuzzy with age and lack of care.

15. that was out of my comfort zone

I don't like casual dialogue very much so

“Why unicorns?”

The question is sudden and random enough that it startles Bucky, he can tell by the way the other man blinks rapidly.

“Huh?”

“Why are unicorns your favorite extinct animal?”

John laughs, his face creasing in a sunny smile, the type of grin he was known for. All encompassing and enough to light up any room. Enough to light up the entire night sky. If they ever figured out how to capture and bottle a John Egan smile they would make millions.

“What’s not to like about ‘em? They’re horses which are already a noble animal as is, add a giant stabbing horn on top and you’ve got one badass beast. ‘Sides they represent all things good and pure. That’s pretty neat.”

“What on earth do you know about purity John Clarence Egan?”

21. that i liked but had to cut

I don't really work on drafts so I dont tend to cut but uhhh i've got this?? It probably wont make it into Dom's story

“I think I’m fucking my life up.” Dom hugs his knee closer to his chest.

Arnie glances over his shoulder at him, hand poised in the dirt where he was subtly tracing Dom’s profile in the dirt. Dom pretended not to notice, Arnie pretended he wasn’t aware of Dom noticing. The arrangement suited them both.

“You’re twenty-six.” Arnie snorts. The scratching in the dirt resumes, a mechanical inhale as he takes a hit of his vape, releasing a cloud of peach-scented vapor into the oncoming sunset. The sacred heart on his right shoulder flexes with his drawing, bared by the sleeveless Fine Ink t-shirt he wore.

Dom makes a disdainful face “You’re twenty-seven.”

“Yeah,” Arnie loftily waves his twig for emphasis, “And in my whole extra year of experience qualifies me to tell you that you’re in no way fucking your life up this young.”

A heavy breeze lifts the hair from Dom’s forehead, catches around the neck of his hoodie and tickles the exposed skin on his ankles. He scowls into it “You’re so full of shit.”

“And you’re a grouch.” Arnie leans back, the knobs of his spine pressing warmly into Dom’s ribs. The tumble of rocks they were sat on reversed their heights, the top of Arnie’s blue curls only reaching to Dom’s shoulder. “Tell me what you think you’re doing so wrong that the next sixty years are a total wash.”

“Sixty years is generous,” Dom presses his lips against a smile as the other man elbows his thigh. He sighs and shrugs, ashing his cigarette on the rock and tucking the half-used butt into his pocket for later. “I don’t know. I’m spending my life working in a shithole bar, chasing after a brother who doesn’t want me in his life and dodging phone calls from a father who thinks I’m as unstable as the chick from Sharp Objects.”

“I saw that show.” Arnie says idly.

“I read the book.” Dom shrugs again, heavier this time. “I dunno, fuck, I have no aspirations, no goals, no trajectory, I’m just clinging to the idea that I can be this fucking savior to the most stubborn sixteen-year-old to grace this good green earth.”

“You know,” Arnie says casually, “sometimes I can really tell your mom was from the bible belt.” Dom elbows the back of his head gently. He laughs, tongue between his teeth and loudly enough to echo around the copse of trees they were taking their refuge under.

“You have friends, a partner, a job, some pretty fun hobbies and you’ve got a goal, even if it is a tough one. Don’t you think that’s enough?” Arnie asks after a beat of silence.

#dom ashby #whewww thats an old tag thats not even his story anymore #clegan #postwar longfic

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headcanons-n-shit · 2 years

Note

How about FFXIV guys + X'rhun Tia reacting to a WoL who's worried about how much their experiences are changing them?

(I'm thinking especially about some of the crap the WoL goes through in Shadowbringers, but overall / class-quest-related is also tasty!)

I have. So Many Thoughts About This :)

Thancred

Its funny. You two kinda match now.

The scar is an ugly thing, a once deep and terrible wound, the eye beneath entirely destroyed-- it will be some time before someone can make you a false replacement. You trace the very edge of it and frown.

Thancred very gently helps you wrap your eye up the first time, showing you how to make the black wrappings stay in place, how to tuck the ends so that it wont come undone even in the most vigorous combat. He carefully pulls your hair back from your face so you cant hide behind it as he kisses your temple.

"See?" He jokes, like you cant hear the warmth and love in his voice. "Like nothing even happened."

Urianger

Being bound to the King of Fairies has... Side effects.

You frown at your face in the mirror, pulling at the flush skin of your cheeks. They seem like such innocent things, like freckles but a bit bigger, darker, and when you run your fingers over them it almost feels like bark. But its a change to your body that you didnt necessarily welcome and--

Urianger pulls your hands away with an indulgent expression. "Stop picking," he chides, pressing kisses to your knuckles. "What would Feo Ul sayth?" He moves to press a kiss to your cheeks, right atop the new marks, and you blush. "Sapling to tree: look how you bloom for me. My love, need I spin you a thread of how beautiful thou are in thine spring...?"

G’raha

"Open the door. Please?"

You’re sitting on the floor of your room in the Rising Stones. Which. You want to be sitting on the bed, or at least on a chair, but. It’s not even that you dont fit, its these stupid useless--

You hear the sound of an Allagan artifact activating and frown, but you still don’t turn around.

“Oh, sweetheart...” G’raha sighs. You still don’t look up at him even as he comes to sit in front of you, pulling your hands into his and away from the feathers. How can you look at him? You won, sure, you beat the Lightwardens, you defeated the Light itself within you, you made it home with him, but. It was different when you showed the Exarch the wings the Light had left you with and he promised to find a solution. Now that they’ve carried over unto the Source...

“My angel,” he says, leaning forward to rest his forehead against yours. “My fierce falcon, my beautiful dove--”

His voice gets sappier and sappier and you can’t help it: you laugh.

Estinien

It’s. Such a stupid thing to be bothered by.

Your hair falls. So much shorter than it used to be, shorn by the hands of well-meaning healers and. It’ll grow back, yeah. But it’s still gone now. And it still. Bothers you.

Estinien hums behind you, pulling a few locks back from your face so they they won’t fall in your eyes, and you almost brush him off, it’s too short to reach behind your ear and it’ll just fall back. But he slides something in your hair, cool and sharp and heavy, and--

It’s a pin, you realize as you run your fingers over it. A simple little metal thing, decorated with little stones down half the length of it and ended with... a flower? No, too sharp. A snowflake? And you don’t even get the chance to see, because he gently puts his chin on top of your head and pulls you into a firm hug.

(”Estinien,” you ask later, flipping the gorgeously-crafted pin between your fingers. It looks like it came straight from Serendipity’s workshop. “How much did this cost?!”)

(That he doesn’t answer is. Very telling.)

Aymeric

There’s a new outfit waiting for you in your room in the Borel house.

You kind of want to ignore it, honestly. Curl up in your bed, go to sleep. Try again tomorrow. But you did promise Aymeric that you would attend with him, and. This looks expensive. Perfectly fitted for you, all deep blue and rich black and. Open down the back, crossed with delicate golden chains that you know would highlight the thick, long scar Nidhogg left you with instead of hide it.

“You look wonderful,” Aymeric murmurs as you take your place at his side, letting him walk you into the party with one of his hands stretching hot and fearless over that horrible scar. “Awe-inspiring. Sublime. See how they watch us? Watch you? Covetous and envy: you are a treasure, a jewel...”

Haurchefant

He’s by your bedside when you wake.

Swathed in bandages, and you know what you’ve lost, you remember the light, the fear, and. And you had made your peace with that, in that brief moment before the impact that had knocked you unconscious. Which. Doesn’t make the lack of weight any easier to bear.

But he’s there by your bedside when you wake. Head pillowed on his arms, perfectly taking up the space left by your missing arm. You don’t even know what wakes him, but you get to watch him groggily raise his head off his arms, wiping at his sleep-thick eyes, mouth ticking up in a little smile just at the sight of you.

“Hey,” he says, voice rough and gravelly as he reaches out and cradles your cheek in his hands, and you don’t even realize you’re crying until the tears are caught between your skin and his. “C’mon now. A smile better suits a hero like you.”

Sidurgu

It shouldn’t bother you. It’s a sign of the life you’ve lived. Proof you’re still alive. Remnants of the people you’ve saved.

“By picking your own body apart,” Fray mutters darkly.

You can see Sidurgu coming up behind you in the mirror. Already armorless, like you, his chest bare and equally covered in scars. He sweeps his hands up your back, but unlike Fray he doesn’t pick at your scars. He traces them reverently, like he’s counting them. Runs his thumbs over the arrow marks, slides his knuckles up and down long slashes, gently digs his nails into patches of burns so you’ll feel the pressure.

We’re alive, he doesn’t say, but you hear it anyways as his hands come to rest on your stomach, over Zenos’s last ‘token of affection’. We’re alive, he doesn’t say as he presses a kiss to the side of your neck. We’re alive. We’re alive.

BONUS

X’rhun

He finds you sitting in front of the mirror in your inn room, frowning at your own expression.

"Love?" he asks softly, padding up behind you to lean over your shoulder and try to see what you see. He sees your face, regal as ever. He loves the curve of your jaw, and the shape of your nose, and the way your lips curl-- though he would much prefer you smiling.

He follows your pointing finger and cannot help but laugh.

"Its not funny!" You bark, trying to push him off as he falls over you, drapping his arms over your shoulders and laughing into your hair. "Rhun! Im too young to have wrinkles!!"

You struggle halfheartedly as he drags you to bed. Cmon, he's going to show you just how young the two of you still are.

#ff14 #ff14 headcanons #thancred waters #urianger augurelt #graha tia #estinien varlineau #estinien wyrmblood #aymeric de borel #haurchefant de fortemps #sidurgu orl #xrhun tia #wolcred #wolianger #grahawol #wolstinien #wolmeric #haurchewol #sidwol #xrhunwol

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the-faceless-bride · 2 years

Text

friends into Lovers

Part two of from strangers to friends in the From, To, story. This one is cute and full of soul-rotting fluff that will later come to bite you in the ass. As always Enjoy!

It's been a few weeks, you and Camilo were hanging out together every day. Your sister was out in the town stealing the show as usual but you couldn't find it in you to care. You were here with Camilo laughing, playing, and joking around and that's all that mattered.

Today you and Camilo left to play in a flower field just past the small crop farm where his mother likes to go to relax. You had tied up his hair in a messy bun some bangs falling and framing his face.

You couldn't stop looking at him and he couldn't stop looking at you. You both danced around laughing, playing tag, and doing tricks to try and impress each other. Camilo won thanks to him doing a handstand and 'walking' on his hands, even though he just barely got a few 'steps' before he fell over landing on his back.

You both looked at each other before cracking up into historical laughter, he looked up at you with a mischievous grin "hey don't laugh at me!" He giggled as he rushed to his feet to chase you, you yelped and started running as he chased you.

You ran until you reached a clearing just outside of the village before he pounced falling onto you. Tickling your sides laughing at your struggles to push him off.

"CAMILO! MILO STAAAH- HAHA!"

"NEVER! YOU MUST SURRENDER!"

"NOOooOoooO!"

After a few more moments you could barely breathe and called for mercy, making Camilo stop but he didn't lift himself off of you, you stayed there looking down at you and you looked up at him. A smile on his face as you counted the freckles on his face without realizing you lifted your hand to trace shapes and connect them with your finger.

Camilo didn't mind, he liked the feeling as he leaned more into your touch. His hand soon reached up to hold yours and without thinking he moved to kiss your knuckles he smiled showing his slight tooth gap, you thought he was adorable.

Your other hand came up to play with his soft relish brown curls as you both lead into each other, closer and closer until you-

"Hijo!" You both pulled apart struggling for a moment to detangle yourself from each other.

"Am I interrupting something?"

"Papi!" Camilo called out embarrassed at being caught in that position with you.

Félix smiled with a huff, "Ay Camilo it's ok Hijo! cuando tenía tu edad era así con tu madre, oye tal vez incluso peor.~" he teased

"PAPI! I DONT WANT TO KNOW THAT!" Camilo screeched his voice cracking as his face went red with embarrassment

"Look I came to tell you that it's time for dinner, if you want to invite your little 'friend' I can have another chair set next to you if you want." Félix continued to tease wiggling his eyebrows at Camilo and Camilo covered his face with his Ruana to cover the red now all down his face and neck.

"That would be lovely!" You said going along with Félix

"Y/N!"

"PERFECT! I'll let the others know!"

"PAPI!"

it was too late Félix was already walking away back to Casita.

"Well... Shall we... Go?" Camilo questioned sounding more like he was making himself more than you, he knew his father would tell his mother and his mother would tell Delores, and Delores would tell Mirabel, and Mirabel would tell.... Isabela and Isabela would NEVER let him live this down.

You took hold of his hand walking down with him to casita. This was going to be fun.

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Back at Casita Félix did in fact tell Pepa, Pepa then had a very vibrant rainbow over her head, and she did tell Delores and Delores did tell Mirable and Mirable 100% told Isabela. This is why when you and Camilo walked into Casita she was standing right there with the biggest, smuggest, face anyone has ever seen and Luisa was trying her hardest to not burst into laughter.

While dinner was getting ready, Camilo rushed you up to his room before Isa had her chance to tease.

Upon entering his room you laughed at his flushed face walking over to his booking his freckled nose making him feel less tense he then wrapped his arms around you dragging you over to his bed to cuddle with you.

You laid there in each other's arms with a pleased smile as the faint sounds of the family fumbling around could be heard if you tried to focus on it, but right now you were too busy admiring Camilo Madrigal.

And somehow you can't remember you bother got closer and closer until your bodies were pressed together and your lips were pressed together in a soft kiss.

Lips moved together perfectly, and at that moment in each other's embrace, you both knew you were meant for each other.

Taglist:

@elegantkidfansoul

@obsessed-with-a-fictional-man

#camilo madrigal #camilo fluff #camilo madrigal x reader #camilo x reader #camilo imagine #camilo my beloved #camilo headcanons #camilo angst #camilo x you #encanto x reader #encanto

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tengods · 2 years

Text

my favorite naegami headcanons <333

makoto and byakuya both have the love language of touch and they also have ZERO personal space. they need to make themselves as compact and tight when they cuddle. just absorb the other person as much as they can against themselves. they are always laying atop eachother.

byakuya at his desk, doing paperwork? makoto will climb over him to sit on his lap and face the other direction, tucking his chin into byakuyas neck and wrapping his legs underneath him.

they sleep in a twin sized bed and it is perfect for them, byakuya often times wakes up to makoto resting ontop of him or tucked to the side of him, between the bed and the wall.

at restauraunts, they choose booth seats so they can constantly lean on eachothers shoulders and cross their inside feet with eachothers.

they 100% take showers and baths together as well. makoto picks out some cute scented shampoo and conditioner at a market and byakuya scoffs and says theres no way he'll ever use that, and then makoto lathers his hands in the soaps and reaches his arms over byakuyas shoulders to wash his hair. byakuya, in turn, hunches over and rests his head on makoto's shoulder for easier access, draping and crossing his arms around the back of makoto's neck.

when makoto is sitting on the couch playing video games, byakuya will have him get up so he can sit behind him and rest his head on makoto's shoulder, occasionally playing with his hair or reaching for his hand to trace his palms.

when it's loud and their out in public, byakuya will face makoto and then tuck his head against the side of makoto's, so theyre just talking into eachothers ears.

i think its so much funnier to assume they're not dating at this point, they just feel like they're normal and prefer to be around eachother.

makoto complains that one of his friends admitted their feelings for him, but he just doesnt see them the same and it's so frustrating having to reject people. byakuya nods and holds him tighter, wrapping his arms around his waist and tucking his head deeper into his neck subconsciously. makoto hums back and leans his head against byakuyas.

i would like to think the first "i love you's" and realizations came when byakuya had just gotten out of a shower (alone) and makoto was already in pajamas, sitting in bed, looking kind of down. byakuya would quickly throw on some underwear and pajama pants, sliding over and being like hey whats up?? and makoto is like :(( i don't know, i've just suddenly gotten in my own head a bunch today. and byakuya is like "oh, alright" and then byakuya starts to realize how much it stings him when makoto is down, and how much he wants to do anything to make him feel better, comfort him in any way, and then he starts feeling helpless. He turns to makoto and starts raising his shirt over his head, so they're both sitting together with just pajama pants on. he then pulls makoto ontop of him, face on his chest and begins to trace each freckle on his back and how they connect. makoto would crawl up higher and rest his head on byakuyas neck and just start shaking with sobs. byakuya would continue to trace his back with one hand and cradle the back of his head with his other hand. after a couple minutes of letting the tears out and comforting, makoto pulls up his puffy, red face to make eye contact. hes like "im sorry about all of this. i just. i don't know. i suddenly got so afraid that, one day. i might not have this anymore." he would say as he places a hand on byakuyas neck/collarbone. byakuya would give him a stupid look. "what? are you kidding me?" and makotos like "sorry i really dont mean to bother you with my worries and stuff." and byakuya is like "i wouldn't want to not have this, either. you're.... comfortable." and makoto's like "hahaha what a weird way to describe people" and byakuya is like "shut up" and makoto, without a second thought is like "make me" in his teasing little charming little SMUG ASS WAY. and byakuya just instantly pushes himself up to kiss makoto. and then they're both just like. oh. Oh. Oh. Oh ok. Wow. wow. okay. and eventually they pull away and they're both a shade of red they didnt know they could turn. and makoto places his hand on the side of byakuyas cheek, which byakuya leans into. and makotos like ".... i feel like i have waited a whole lifetime for that." and byakuya is like. "....we can do this?" and makoto just nods and presses a kiss onto byakuyas forehead like "yeah. we can." byakuya, who has a difficult time expressing his emotions, just places his hand ontop of makoto's, eyes watering up. and makotos like "hey woahhh!! are you ok?? did i do something wrong???" and byakuya is like ".... i don't ever want to do this with anyone else... i dont know what these feelings are, but they make me feel ill and weak." and makoto starts tearing up too, pressing his lips against byakuyas forehead again, smiling against his skin. they eventually settle back down, makoto curling into byakuyas side, holding his hand close to his chest, and byakuya just starts bawling silently. it takes a moment for makoto to realize, but he quickly turns and squeezes his hand, whispering comforts of "its okay, i love you, you're safe, i am so glad you feel comfortable enough to show your emotions around me, i care about you." and byakuya is like "..... i love you too." and makoto is like AH. I SURE SAID THAT!!! OKAY!! and "oh wow. I really really love you. A lot. Wow. I didn't think that I said that out loud. Wow. And you love me too? Wow." And byakuya just starts laughing the kinda laugh you do when your eyes are swollen and ur face feels like it is sore from crying, the most Makoto has ever heard him genuinely laugh before. "Shit" he says in between breathly laughs, "I guess you did, huh."

I love these silly little guys so dearly. SO DEARLY

#naegami #byakuya togami #makoto naegi #gay mlm #headcanon #i love them so dearly

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chaotic-kitty · 2 years

Note

Hi!! I actually dont know but Can u do Main 4 on Ctc Nsfw headcanons?😅 Its ok to ignore this!!😅

Hey!! Sorry this took so long, I had writers block.😭 Anyways, here’s the first part. I’ll upload the second part later….later could literally be in 5 minutes or a few days. I’m having a bit of trouble getting a good grasp of Maeve and Theo for this. But I’m working on it! Thank you for the request, hope this is what you wanted! Have a good night/day/evening and sorry for any mistakes!💕

Courting The Crown Main 4 NSFW Headcanons!! Part 1

Warnings: explicit content

Part 2 | Part 3

Rian:

As soon as your relationship reaches the s*x level, y’all cannot keep your hands off of each other. He will constantly be wanting to steal you away for a hot rendezvous or two whenever and wherever he can.

S*x on his ship.👀

You two have been known to hookup in the captain’s quarters, as well as every other nook and cranny on the ship.

Throne s*x!

He likes seeing you sitting on the throne, he finds it so hot. But what he likes even more is the idea of taking you on the throne.

Rian is very passionate and loving to begin with (at least when it comes to you), and those are traits that extend to physical intimacy.

He is VERY into body worship! It doesn’t matter if you’re just having a quickie or taking your time, Rian will try and kiss and touch every part of you he can while telling you how much he loves you and praising you.

He also has a thing for marking you. Not in a possessive way though! He just likes leaving hickeys in places where only he (and you) would know where they are. (If you’re okay with it)

Rian is far from being a selfish lover. He loves making love to you. He relishes in making you come undone. He will spend more time pleasuring you than he will chasing his own release.

He is also the biggest tease.

Will spend the whole day sneakily coming up and touching you in all the ways he knows will turn you on. He’ll also whisper the dirtiest things in your ear, not caring who could hear. At the end of the day he’s wound you both up so much that the minute you are both alone, neither of you can hold back any longer.

Definitely into oral. Both giving and receiving.

Rian enjoys pleasuring you on the throne, but he also LOVES when he’s sitting in the chair at his desk (in this captain’s quarters) with you on your knees getting him off.

He is into sensual lovemaking as well as rougher s*x or even BDSM. As long as you’re both comfortable and enjoying yourselves, he is up for and willing to try anything and everything.

Great aftercare!! Depending on what sort of s*x you had and how worn out you are the method of aftercare differs. If you’re really worn out, he’ll clean you up and cuddle with you and he sings/hums you a nice lil song to calm you. If you’re not as worn out, he’ll suggest a bath to wind down.

He is not shy when it comes to showing his affection for you in public. Rian loves you and will show you off. He will wrap an arm around your shoulder or waist. Hold your hand. And even give you lil pecks on the cheek or just full on make out with you. Of course he is respectful! He will not do anything you’re uncomfortable with. He also knows when he shouldn’t be too touchy.

Gwydion:

Gentle s*x.🥰

He is also really into body worship. He loves every part of you and will spend time showing you just how much.

He also loves praising you and complementing you during the deed. He’ll hold you close as he kisses a path down your body, only ever stopping to tell you how beautiful you are and how your doing such a good job.

He’ll also tell you how much he loves you and will whisper in your ear every reason why as he pleasures you.

Gwydion will incorporate his magic. By doing this it will naturally heightened any feelings and emotions you’re both experiencing. He can also use his magic for specific purposes in order to make the experience more pleasurable for the both of you.

Please count his freckles!! And Trace his tattoos!!🥺

He loves it so much!! Especially if you’ve just finished making love. It’s something you’ve both incorporated into your aftercare. Gwydion finds it to be grounding and soothing. He also relishes in the feeling of you touching him and teasing him.

Lovemaking under ✨the stars✨

It’s no secret that Gwydion loves the stars. It’s even less of a secret that he loves you! So why not combine those two things together?

He definitely has a secret little hideaway where he goes to stargaze, so he will often take you there and you both end up making love under the stars. It’s an experience he cherishes so much.

While he loves touching you, he isn’t as big on pda as some people. So he doesn’t usually whisk you off into storage rooms or dark corners unless he is really needy. But in those cases he still prefers to wait so he can ravish you in privacy of your own rooms.

Prefers positions where he can gaze into your eyes 👀Like the lotus position.

#fictif #fictif ctc #fictif courting the crown #fictif rian #fictif gwydion #courting the crown gwydion #courting the crown rian #fictif fanfic #fanfic #fanfic writer

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noodlecupcakeswritings · 3 years

Text

Bloodlust - Kylo RenxOC (Vampire AU) Halloween Challenge 2021

Cora is offered to Kylo Ren as a gift so he will stop draining the blood of her towns livestock. Kylo Ren has been seeking an eternal bride for centuries and Cora's practically gift wrapped.

Week one of my Halloween challenge. The theme is obviously vampires!

Hope you guys enjoy, please leave kudos, comments and reblogs if you do.

Cora

Lightning illuminated the sky for a few seconds, followed by the deep rumble of thunder, the sound drowning out my screams and pleas. The townspeople had turned on me, now carrying my struggling form up the desolate hill. At the top was where the beast lived, in his dark and dreary manor. Any normal person would have thought such a place would have been uninhabited, but we had learnt the truth that hard way. Every night, the beast would venture out under the cover of darkness and drain our livestock of blood. They were rumours that the beast took the form of a man, but the more people speculated, the more outrageous the descriptions became. Some of them claimed he could take the form of a bat or a huge black dog.

And now the same people I had lived with all my life had turned on me, thinking sacrificing a pure young woman to the beast would sate its hunger for much longer. No matter how much I struggled or pleaded to be let go, nobody would free me or take pity on me. Nobody was going to change their mind. I suppose I had been the easy pick, being an orphan. Nobody would miss me; nobody would fight for me. We came to a stop before the manor, the building silent, which only made it more unnerving. Even the thunder and lightning had stopped. There was a moment’s hesitation as the town’s leaders decided who should knock.

One of them was finally brave enough to step forward. Before he could even reach the doors, however, one of them slowly creaked open to reveal only darkness inside. The door had seemingly opened on its own, which only made the townspeople more fearful. Eventually, the men holding me found their courage and forced me inside before closing the door. I tried the handle, finding it somehow locked before hammering my fists on the wood, pleading for them to let me out, to not leave me here. But the door stayed closed, they had abandoned me. Tears rolled down my cheeks, whether it be from fear, anger or anguish, I couldn’t tell. It was likely a mix of all three.

There was a sound from behind me before the room was suddenly illuminated, the candles now lit, the lamps now burning. Quickly, I turned to face my attacker, my eyes darting around the lavish empty room. Nothing. It was toying with me; it wanted to drag this out for its own amusement. Before me was a grand staircase that led to the next floor, the carpet red, clean and tidy. The interior of the manor did not match the exterior at all. There were a few other doorways that led deeper into the manor, but if I wanted to survive, it would be best to stay put for now.

At the top of the staircase emerged a man, tall and broad. He descended the staircase, all of my instincts telling me to run, but my fear had me rooted to the spot. The man was dressed in all black, his clothes that of a man with a lot of money. He had shoulder length black wavy hair, a large angular nose, a strong jawline, plush pink lips and a sprinkling of freckles and moles across his face. He looked mostly human, nor could I deny he was handsome. Until I met his gaze and noticed his pupils were red. The man stood before me, looking down at me curiously. Bashfully, I glanced down at my feet instead, suddenly more subconscious that I was before a stranger in my nightgown.

“I’ve never had guests this time of night,” he spoke, “although judging by the angry mob outside, I’m guessing you weren’t exactly a willing participant.” This took me off guard. Why hadn’t he killed me yet? Why was he still dragging this out? “They think gifting me a pretty girl will make me leave them alone? How barbaric,” he continued. His eyes raked over my form, making me shrink back further against the door. He chuckled softly at my shyness. “Dont be afraid, I don’t wish to harm you even if draining you dry would be tempting. I think I can find other uses for you, ones that you might even enjoy. What is your name?”

Hesitantly, I met his gaze, “Cora. My name is Cora.” “I am Kylo Ren. Do you know what a vampire is, Cora?” I nodded once, “somewhat. I know you need to blood to survive, and sunlight can hurt you.” “Correct. But there’s much more to it than that. Much for you to learn.” “To learn?” Kylo cupped my cheek, forcing my gaze on him once more. Something about his gaze this time drew me in further, made it so I couldn’t look away. Kylo smiled, his thumb tracing over my lips.

“It’s been centuries since I’ve had female company,” Kylo mused, “and they sent you to me gift wrapped in white, too. A fitting colour for a bride.” I knew I should protest; I should run from him, but my body refused to move. Marrying him would be better than having him kill me. But a lifetime tied to this monster? That I’d only just met? “I sense doubt within you. I understand it’s a big commitment, but once I gift you with eternal life, you will be able to use your newfound strength to seek revenge on those who wronged you. Wouldn’t you want that? To stop them from doing this to another poor girl?” Kylo asked.

Before I had a chance to think about it, I found myself agreeing. It felt as if I wasn’t in control of myself anymore. “Yes,” I replied. Kylo picked me up bridal style and although some distant voice in my head told me to resist and struggle, my body didn’t follow those instructions. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I relaxed into his hold. There was a sense of security and safety with him instead of the fear and uncertainty I had previously felt. Maybe he was telling the truth, maybe he wasn’t just saying these things to lull me into a false sense of security. Kylo carried me upstairs and down the hall to what I assumed was his bedroom.

The bedroom was large, fit for royalty. The bed sat in the centre of the room and was large, round, with plenty of silken sheets and pillows. Tapestries lined the walls and fur rugs littered the floor. Kylo put me down at the foot of the bed, his hands on my hips and his chest pressed against mine. Up this close, he was even more handsome, and I found myself getting lost further in his eyes. Any doubts in my head seemed to be silenced. Kylo leaned forward and pressed his lips to mine. The kiss was slow and passionate, everything I had dreamed of for a first kiss. Heat spread across my cheeks and a new heat spread between my legs.

Kylo pulled me in closer as he deepened the kiss whilst his fingers tangled through my hair. When he pulled away, I only felt more ready to do anything this man asked of me. Kylo kissed his way across my cheek, down my jawline and to my neck. There was a moment of pause before there was something sharp against my neck. The pain I felt passed quickly as Kylo drank from me eagerly. Eventually he pulled away, his gaze hungrier than before. “You taste divine, never have I tasted blood as sweet as yours,” Kylo spoke softly.

Before I could respond, he kissed me again, hungrier this time, almost possessive. His hands travelled to the front of my nightgown, pulling apart the bow at the front. He pulled the bodice open before pushing the white gown down my shoulders. It fell into a pile at my feet, my body now bare and exposed to him. I knew I should protest, covering my body from his greedy gaze, but modesty didn’t seem to matter anymore. He wanted me, and I was powerless to resist. Nor did I want to. Nothing was left for me out there, the people in my town had made that very clear. And yet here was this man who would gift me the power to destroy those who had wronged me, all for a taste of my blood.

Kylo’s hands ghosted down my sides to my hips as his eyes raked over my form. His touch made my skin form goosebumps, he was being so gentle as if I was something delicate, something fragile. “Lay down for me,” he instructed. After making myself comfortable on the bed, I watched as Kylo undressed himself. He really was good to look at. Every part of him was so defined, like he’d been sculpted from marble. I wanted to touch him, feel his skin on mine. I wanted to be his. For eternity. Kylo followed me onto the bed, climbing on top of me. “Someone as beautiful as you deserves to be worshiped,” Kylo murmured.

Kylo kissed me once more before making another trail with his lips, this time going further than my neck. He kissed across the swell of my breasts, pausing to suck my nipples between his plush lips. There was a brief sharpness from his fangs before he drank from me again. This time, it was more pleasurable, forcing a soft moan from me as I threaded my fingers through his long, silky hair. He soon moved on, kissing down my stomach to my hips, where he briefly stopped for more blood.

The heat between my legs had grown to an ache that I was desperate for him to soothe. Ignoring my impatient whines, Kylo moved down to my thighs, kissing across them before sinking his teeth into the supple flesh. My hips bucked and his grip tightened to keep me still. Once finished, he moved to rest between my legs, spreading them further before lapping at my wetness. Never did I imagine I could feel such pleasure from a man. I threw my head back against the pillows, moaning louder as he continued pleasuring me with his tongue.

Kylo groaned at my taste, now focusing his attention on my sensitive bundle of nerves. He seemed hungrier than before, as if my blood hadn’t been enough to sate his hunger. Gently, he slipped a finger into my tightness, working me open before he added a second digit. My moans grew louder, as did my pleasure, my grip on his hair getting tighter. It was all so much at once and yet not enough. Kylo curled his fingers inside me, his name falling from my lips.

Something was quickly building deep in my belly, and after a few more moments, the pleasure became overwhelming. My hips bucked and my free hand fisted the silken sheets as I cried out my release. Kylo worked me through every wave before sucking his fingers clean. “I cannot decide what tastes better, your blood or your cunt,” Kylo mused, “but I would gladly feast on either for hours.” Kylo leaned down to kiss me, letting me taste myself on his tongue. “I’ve tasted you, now it’s your turn to taste me,” he spoke, pulling away from me.

Sitting back on his knees, Kylo bit into his own wrist before offering it to me. Blood slowly seeped from the wound, a drop threatening to be wasted on the sheets. The sight didn’t repulse me; I was instead curious. Taking hold of his wrist, I licked the red trails clean. One taste and I was hooked, I needed more. Wrapping my mouth around the wound, I eagerly drank down every drop of blood he offered me. Kylo murmured words of praise as he stroked my hair with his free hand.

All too soon, Kylo tried to pull his wrist from me, stating I’d had enough. Ignoring him, I refused to let go and continued to drink from him. “Cora, enough!” He declared, raising his voice. Realizing I still wasn’t going to stop, he wrapped his free hand around my neck and pushed me back down against the pillows. The two puncture wounds on his wrist healed quickly, the skin showing no marks of any previous wounds. However, that did nothing to stop my sudden new hunger. “I want more,” I protested.

Smirking, Kylo continued to hold me in place, although his free hand was back between my legs to reawaken another hunger. “More? Such a greedy little thing, aren’t you?” He teased. “Please,” I begged. Although at this point, I wasn’t sure what I was begging for anymore, more pleasure or more blood. I just needed something, some more of him.

Kylo pressed his cock to my wet entrance, coating himself in my juices and teasing both of us more. With a newfound strength, I pulled Kylo down for a heated kiss. He accepted the kiss, slowly pushing into me. My nails dragged across his back as I moaned loud from the new pleasure, from feeling so full. Kylo released his hold on my neck, now gripping my hips as he started a slow pace. He savoured every push and pull, every drag of his cock against my walls as he leaned down to kiss across my neck and collar. The affection and passion from him made me feel like I was made to be worshiped. Never had a man made me feel so desired.

Wrapping my legs around his waist, I pulled him closer, revelling in the feeling of his skin against mine. Kylo’s pace quickened as he groaned against my neck. My nails dug into his biceps, leaving small crescent-shaped indents as I moaned his name. My second orgasm was building quickly, but I needed something more to push me over the edge. Kylo, having quickly learnt how my body worked, reached between us to rub my clit in small circles. Pleasure consumed me, every one of my nerve’s endings singing with ecstasy. I could only moan Kylo’s name over and over as he worked me through every wave until he, too, reached his own climax with a guttural groan.

Kylo lay beside me, stroking my hair with a soft smile across his face. Even though I was tired yet satisfied, I still wanted more. He sensed this, his smile growing a little as he softly chuckled. “Rest. You’ll need it, when you wake up, things will be different,” he explained, “but we have all of eternity together now.”

Taglist: @ficlicious, @fandomliciousness

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daddy-chiluc · 3 years

Text

Inextinguishable Fire | Chiluc Week Day 1

Fake Dating/Accidental Confession/Roommates AU

Chiluc Fluff

Tw: Mentions of a Stalker

★━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━★

“Ajax! I need your help!” He chimed, his pale knuckles knocking lightly on the door. The sound of creaking soaked through the door, floorboards cried under his weight as his shadow shifted beneath the door. The faintest sound of a groan resonated through the door as it was slowly opened.

The sunlight from the apartment began to creep into his dark room, it’s darkness swallowed around the tall, pale figure before him. The veins in his hands moved as he gripped at the door and it’s frame, his muscles stretching as he curved his back in a weak attempt to pop it. Whatever he had done last night must’ve been eventful, bruises littered his knuckles as cuts and scratches tore at his skin with every breath.

“What’s up Sparky?” He groaned, the sound reverberating through the quiet hallway as he yawned, his bed head unruly as it curled and stuck out in different directions, his sleepy tears rolling down his freckled cheeks.

“I have a problem and I need your help.” Diluc had muttered, determined to fix his gaze upon those ocean blues that drowned him shamelessly with every look. They’d look down at him, up at him, study him and care for him. An overwhelming tsunami sure to swallow him whole and send his head underwater, taking away every breath he took.

“What kinda problem?” Ajax was intrigued. A problem? Whatever this problem was it obviously stressed him out a great deal — his hair was a frenzied mess, curls displaced down his back and along his shoulders from where they had been agitated; probably from where he had been running his fingers through it. Even in his sleepy haze, he could see his fingers were irritated, most likely from scratching, and his lips were chapped, his bottom lip with patches of raw skin, swollen and bleeding. He’d been chewing and pulling at the skin of his lips.

“So you remember why we’re rooming? Because I had a stalker on campus?” He worried, starting to scratch at his neck, most likely from anxiety.

“Yeah…I remember very well. They tried to break into the dorm you shared with that Albedo guy. I chased ‘em off,” he groaned, rubbing at his face, trying to rub his drowsiness away, “What about ‘em? Do I need to beat the shit outta them?” He murmured as he studied the man before him.

“Well…no, not yet I don’t think. That’s not…”

“What’s wrong Diluc?” He whispered gently, his voice deep and raspy from having just woken up. His voice alone was enough to send a shiver down Diluc’s spine.

“I’ve been invited to a double date and the people who invited me think I’m dating you and I don’t know what to do so I came to you thinking you’d know what to do and even though I know how to protect myself I’m still not comfortable knowing there isn’t a restraining order on that stalker so I figured —,”

“Diluc, slow down. You’re rambling, I need you to have mercy on me here,” he laughed as he reached for a t-shirt, “Look, I get this is making you anxious. Why not just tell them you don’t feel up to hanging out right now? Better yet, invite them to the apartment, I don’t care.” He slipped the tee on, the collar hang forward from where it had been stretched out.

The idea of ‘asking another friend’ really wasn’t much of an option for Diluc. He had far too many trust issues and the only reason why he’d hung around Ajax was because he was there the night the stalker had broken in, talking pictures of him and stealing precious items. Had it not been for Albedo’s attempt to stop him, Ajax wouldn’t have heard the ruckus.

“Look, I need you to calm down before you tell me. I can’t keep up when you anxiety ramble,” he smiled softly, nodding to the living room, “Go sit on the couch and wait for me, I’ll brush your hair out and you can go from there okay?” For someone as flamboyant as Kaeya — maybe even more so — he was rather calm in the mornings whereas Kaeya would be loud and dramatic.

Striding along their shared apartment, he sat on the couch as he listened to the winds howl and the birds chirp. He remembered telling the pair he had online classes to worry about, the classes becoming stressful, only adding to his exhaustion after the stalker incident. Feeling the sofa dip behind him, he relaxed instinctively as he sat behind him, pulling his hair behind him before he gently brushed at the hairs, careful not to snag a single strand.

“So start from the beginning for me,” he said calmly, his fingers carding through his hair with each stroke of the hairbrush.

“I was invited to a double date…,” he whispered, slumping forward just a bit as he fiddled his his fingers.

“By who?”

“By Albedo.”

“You’re old roommate?” Diluc nodded as best he could, his weight sinking into the cushions beneath him.

“Why not just invite him and his partner here?”

“I tried but he said he doesn’t want to be a bother and he’d rather pay for coffee down the road.” He sank into his touch as he lightly massaged his scalp.

“And you said he thinks we’re dating?” Diluc hummed, tilting his head back, melting under his touch.

“Yeah, I couldn’t get a word in over the phone, I tried to tell him we weren’t and he didn’t believe me.” He sighed, some of his tension leaving his body.

“And you’re worried about that stalker again?” Diluc hummed again, his eyes closing as Ajax braided the sides to pull into a small ponytail, draping the rest if his tamed hair over his shoulders and down his back.

“Then we’ll go and just call it a fake date.” He shrugged, his hands leaving the tamed red locks his fingers were busied with.

“The two of us on a fake date?” Diluc had thought of it, he just hadn’t expected for him to have the same idea, “What would we even do, how would that —,”

“Dont stress about it too much, just follow my lead,” Ajax soothed, brushing a piece of his hair behind his ear. It was brief when Diluc looked away, Ajax’s eyes stealing a glance at his red lips, his gaze lingering a moment longer than he would’ve liked as the other stared off at the pristine, white wall.

“Look, if it bothers you that much then I’ll just go as company alright? No need to worry your pretty head Aphrodite,” Diluc’s skin burned violently as his mind began to crash, he could feel himself drowning once more, water filling his lungs and his throat as a light kiss was pressed to his temple.

“Why did you —,”

“We’re fake dating right? We gotta make it believable Rosebud, might as well get a head start,” he chuckled as he walked back to his room to get dressed, “Let me know what time we’re leaving,” he called down the hall, his voice bouncing and echoing down the cramped space as Diluc sat mindlessly on the sofa. God, he could be so insufferable sometimes. His fingers feathered over his temple, the ghost of his lips setting his heart aflame as he scoffed. Sure, he helped when he was needed and slept most of the day because of his night classes, but he could be so…so annoying.

An hour had ticked away along the clock’s hands, Diluc looking on in severe distaste at the basic tee and jeans Ajax had chosen. It was so basic Diluc couldn’t help but roll his eyes as he drug him back to his room, rifling through the other’s wardrobe, desperate to find something better for him to wear.

“Take that off, before I rip it off you,” Diluc’s tone was bitter, as he glared at him.

“So forward Diluc,” Ajax snickered, pulling the t-shirt off slowly, teasingly, loving the irritated noise that squeezed itself past Diluc’s throat. His touch against his skin was scalding as he took his shirt off for him. It made his heart flutter and burn like a forest fire in his chest with each breath, becoming far more dire with every inhale — dire for the need to touch him delicately, to let his fingers gingerly trace the underside of his jaw and press chaste kisses to his neck. He swallowed thickly, knowing his pale cheeks were burning with his hidden passion, the tips of his ears must have been burning as bright as the other’s hair. If they had, Diluc had chosen to ignore it, surely.

“Put this on.” Clothes were pushed to his chest, an assortment of colors that worked beautifully together, “I think a slate grey would look better, it’s softer,” he started to ramble, right, he was studying to be a fashion designer, he was also a minor in art, “No, no wait,” he went off, fingers gently skimming against his clothes, “Try this instead,” he handed him another outfit, taking away the sweater and pants he had handed him previously.

“Diluc, it’s a fake date…,” he whispered slowly as Diluc went back to looking through his clothes, “Why are you dressed like it’s a fancy outing, wearing heels, and going so in depth with clothes?”

“Well, Ajax,” he hummed with a swift turn of his heel, his hair spinning as he lifted the other’s chin with his finger, sending Ajax reeling from his spot on his bed. Don’t even get him started on the way he said his name like that, “One, it’s called having a taste in fashion and being a minor in art. Two, they aren’t heels, they’re dress shoes,” he leaned in closely, a smirk danced uncharacteristically along his features as his breath fanned over his lips, “We gotta make it believable…Seerose.” Had it not been for rooming with him for four months his German would have been rough. He…he called him Water Lily in German. The perfect payback really. Ajax laughed lightly as the finger slipped from his chin as he stood up.

“Alright alright, I’ll be out in a moment.” Diluc had been grateful he had the other by his side, his heart hammered in his chest.

“How do I look Firefly?” He chimed, a cheesy grin on his face as he walked back into his room.

“Better,” Diluc was pleased with the outfit. It had gone silent rather quickly, the incessant buzz of the AC being the only noise that had filled the room, “Hey…I have a question.”

“Shoot Sparky,” Ajax relaxed, slouching back just a bit as Diluc eyed him, watching his every move like a hawk.

“Did you want to go on the double date with me?” Ajax’s face flushed. Yes, yes he absolutely wanted to…but how could he admit that so casually?

“Just thought it’d be a cool idea, that’s all.”

“A cool idea?” Diluc had doubted that with every fiber of his being. He could tell by the way he spoke and the way his body had tensed up there was something up.

“Yeah, pretty much.” He shrugged, his body going rigid.

“You’re lying.”

“What?”

“I said you’re lying.”

“Yeah, I heard you the first time but what makes you think I’m lying?”

“You’re too tense.” He said simply, stepping closer eyes cut to examine every bead of sweat that formed on his face, every freckle and every line in his forehead, “Why did you propose the idea of a fake date, and be honest.”

“I am being honest!” He panicked, he could feel his body begin to flare with heat as Diluc walked closer and closer.

“No you aren’t Ajax.”

“Why does it matter?” Ajax argued, as he took slow, consistent steps back.

“Because I’m the last person you should love—,”

“So what if I do?!” Ajax’s voice echoed within the dark room as sunlight streamed through the curtains as he was backed into the wall. His heart raced in his chest as it clicked. He…he just admitted to loving his roommate. The very roommate he saved four months ago and offered to go on a fake date with. He hadn’t meant for it to be so raw, so unromantic that he himself had to groan at his own stupidity.

“…So you’re actually in love with me?” Ajax’s lips pursed shut, as he looked away, embarrassment settling in his bones, flooding every crevice of his body.

“Ajax?”

“Yes, Diluc, I’m in love with you, for fuck sake.” He groaned, his head thumping against the wall as he threw his head back. He was dizzy, his eyes wide as warm hands cupped his cheeks with a forceful kiss pressed to his lips — desperate. Everything in this moment was a blur to him, he just knew he tasted sweet, like sugar and pastries. He could feel the quiver of his lip and it felt right. It felt so, so right.

“C-call, call it off,” he groaned, melting into the kiss with every touch as his lithe fingers traced the veins in his neck, “Call off the meet up—,” he whispered thinly, pulling him impossibly closer as he kissed him feverishly, passion burning in each press of their lips. Diluc gasped as he was suffocated with every gentle kiss pressed to his skin. He pulled at the hairs of his neck, allowing himself to be dragged down to the bottom of the ocean. Lightly, he pushed him away to breathe, laughing lightly at their disheveled state as he cleaned them both up as best he could.

“Or, we could actually make it a date instead of a fake one,” he proposed, hands busying themselves with bronze curls.

“Yes. Fuck yes, I would absolutely love that,” he whispered as he went back to kissing him over and over, grateful for his stupid mouth talking too much.

“A date it is then,” Diluc mumbled against his lips as he allowed himself to be devoured by the other’s warm embrace, “A date it is…” Ajax sank into his touch, feeling his fingers hold him closely by his jaw as his lips met his over and over, his warmth scorching his skin, a fire that could never be extinguished…a fire that could never be extinguished.

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whirlybirdwhat · 3 years

Note

The strawhats dont know that Jimbe shares the other half of Luffys scar.

Word Count: 2,239

The Straw Hats hadn’t expected it, even as they traced inked lines on newspapers, old and faded with time, watched the news and clips of Marineford, brought by an old enemy’s hands.

They knew their captain would be scarred – saw it in the newspaper, the way his face broke with his brother’s body in his arms, saw it in bloody bandages inked with 3D2Y.

They just –

They didn’t know it would be like this.

Luffy’s scar is a red thing, a bloody thing. It’s roughly healed, clearly gone without proper care beyond the initial wrap, and it lays directly over their captain’s chest. An X, cruel and digging into his skin.

(Legends state that Joyboy, the first adventurer, carved an X on to Raftel. That the poneglyphs are his signature, the X that marks all treasure.

Below this X lies their captain’s heart, burned and flayed by the first of a dog.

It is a treasure that should have never been marked.)

He wears it openly, proudly, as if this X was not in the same place of the wound that killed his brother, as if his hand did not reach up to scratch at it, rest on it, hold it when he stared at the horizon. They have had a day to get used to but still –

Still it is a shock, fresh and unwanted.

(Scars have meaning, and scars have purpose. Zoro has two on his ankles and one on his front, two earned in learning, and one in battle. Another is on his eye, a price paid for being a student who aims to take down his teacher. Nami has scars, covered by blue ink, scars that freed her, scars that saved her. Usopp has nicks on his hand, scars in odd places from trying to repair a dying ship, from fighting his captain.

Lessons learned, purposed gained, willingly, voluntarily.

Luffy’s is nothing like that. )

It stares at them, taunts them, bright and red, a reminder that they weren’t there when Luffy was always there for all of them, wasn’t there when he needed them most, as much as it is a reminder of how Luffy’s brother died in his arms, in a war that should have never been.

(Luffy has scars – he heals fast, but not enough to cover burns from molten gold or holes from warlord’s hooks. But nothing is as vibrant as this one.)

But –

Luffy is here.

Luffy is happy. He smiles, bright and fearless, even if there are new shadows in his eyes and more quiet moments then there used to be. He is still just as strong, stronger even, if more protective of his crew. He’s Luffy – their captain, and their future king.

They weren’t there for him, and he doesn’t care if they weren’t because he’s glad they’re safe but –

Jimbe! Luff cries with joy, when they set a course for fishman island, He saved me!

Someone was.

Fishman island is a bright, happy place. The sun shines even here, and now, with Hordy and Vander Decken gone, the people shine as well. Joyful, smiling faces against scales and skin, teeth sharp or smooth, are all directed to their princess – now revealed to them – and to the pirates that saved them. There’s cruelty in corners, but not here.

Not now.

(Children run along the sea floor in Straw Hats, calling out attack names and harboring no prejudice.

Later, years later, there will be legends about a man in a straw hat, and joy written on all their faces – cruelty nowhere to be found. A beginning is here – one of hope.)

Not with Luffy lying on Jimbe’s side, bandaged and with his crew surrounding him. The party thrown by King Neptune echoes dimly in the background, melding gently with the chattering of his crew around him. Zoro sleeping on the ground by Luffy, Chopper atop of him, Usopp and Sanji murmuring together as they eat, the rest of the crew standing around, gazing at their captain who has given so much for them – who has just returned to them.

(They move in groups, now, and when Luffy left the party to talk to Jimbe the rest of them followed. It’s been far too long since they’ve been together and they are reluctant to part from each other.

Never again, they whisper, never again.)

Jimbe is new to them but not, there when they weren’t. He’s comfortable with Luffy, even if he is surprised when Luffy slumps against his side, curling under his arm to sleep away his injuries. There’s a terrible sort of fondness on his face as he looks at their Captain, one they all know is reflected on their own faces.

Luffy – he saves people. More than just in body, but in spirit, taking their dreams and shouldering them on his own until they are strong enough to carry themselves. Selfishly selfless, forcing people to rise and chase what every pirate holds dear.

A dream.

Jimbe hasn’t said his yet, but he’ll get there if Luffy has to drag him there kicking and screaming like he’s done the rest of them.

Though… his eyes hold nothing but devotion as he stares at the Straw Hat’s captain, so it’s more than likely he’ll just follow Luffy.

All the way to Raftel.

Luffy utters a quiet snore, burrowing close into Jimbe, bandages falling and revealing a reddened scar, and suddenly the Straw Hats find themselves with a purpose here.

But like in all things, Luffy is the one to make the first move. The way he has tugged on Jimbe’s kimono, has pulled it to the side, displaying the tattoo of the Sun Pirates, red and vibrant and –

A mass of scar tissue, burned and dark against blue scales, in the same shape as their captain’s.

It’s like the world goes quiet as Jimbe readjusts.

Like another weight has been added to the shoulders of those who love Straw Hat Luffy but weren’t there when he needed them most. Like chains, like nails down the throat, a horrible, awful realization that at Marineford, it hadn’t just been Ace who took a hit for their captain.

Jimbe had too.

He doesn’t talk about it, doesn’t seem to notice the way every Straw Hat has paled or gone wide eyed or slacked jawed (for those without visible skin or eyes.) He just quietly adjusts Luffy, hand ghosting over the scar on his chest, and settles back down.

Nami swallows, throat sick. “Jimbe?” She asks, knowing that he’ll answer her if no one else. “You were at Marineford, right?”

(Even in his sleep, slumbering away, Luffy winces at the name.)

Jimbe is quiet for a beat, then – “Aye. And Impel Down.”

“And afterwards,” Robin says smoothly, eyes bright with the knowledge of a historian who scoured every source for information about her captain.

Jimbe nods. “And afterwards, until Rayleigh took over.”

Everything. He was here for everything.

“Then...” Nami swallows and blinks back her tears. “You were with Luffy when A-“ His name feels forbidden. Taboo. “When his brother died.”

“Aye.” Jimbe’s words are soft as he lays a hand on Luffy’s shoulder, gently calming him from the twist his face takes, even asleep. “I was.”

Nami wants to ask what happens. She wants to know, wants to hold her captain, wants to say It’s okay, wants to know what hurt him so he will never hurt again, and Jimbe can give her these answers but –

The past doesn’t matter aboard their ship of dreams. Luffy had not listened to her story, not until she wanted to tell him herself. He had freed her from her chains, took her by the hand and led her to the horizon that she could map all her own.

Her throat closes up when she thinks about trying to learn his hurts, when he knew not to bother her own.

She can’t do that.

She can’t.

Instead, she lets her lips remain loyally closed as she watches the way Jimbe cradles their captain, as if he was the most precious thing he could think of.

(And really this man – who had conquered gods and armies and kings, yet still smiled so gently at his nakama and the sea breeze – he is.)

But Jimbe speaks anyway, and it’s not a betrayal of loyalty because he was there, when none of them were.

“I knew Ace, before Marineford.” They all hide flinches at the name. Jimbe gives them a somber gaze, and moves on. “We battled, before he joined Whitebeard’s crew and afterwards were friends. I refused to fight in Marineford for his sake, and was instead bound in Impel down, in the same cell as him. There… he told me about his little brother.” His gaze, impossibly, turns even softer. “He would just chatter on… smiling, in the face of death, as he told me about how reckless this boy was. How foolish. How loyal.” He tilts his head back up to the sky then. “He asked me to take care of his little brother.”

Nami’s heart stops. Usopp gasps. Sanji drops his plate. Chopper starts crying. Zoro’s eyes flash open for the first time.

(Under the hot sun of Alabasta, on a ship aboard a river, a man with freckles and a smile had asked, A little brother like that makes a big brother worry - Take care of him for me, okay?

They failed.)

“I failed,” Jimbe says, simply, but his words are draped in pain and agony, as his hand rises to his chest again, in a similar motion to what their captain has done, several times since they have reunited. “And that can never be forgiven.”

“But you were there,” Robin says, just as simple, her voice cracking. “And you saved our captain – didn’t you?”

Jimbe’s hand loosens its hold. “Ace had just died. We were running from Akainu and… I was holding Luffy. My own body was not enough to shield him – I failed-“

“Stop.” Zoro’s words silence the room, accept for Luffy, snoring gently into Jimbe’s side. “You were there, Jimbe.” He gets on to his knees, sword laying across his slap as Chopper is pushed to the side. “We were not. Thank you, for saving him.”

And then – Zoro, future world’s greatest swordsman, the pirate hunter, the demon – he bows, low to the ground, in a gesture of thanks.

It is brief, and quick, but Nami follows instantly, folding over in thanks as the rest of the crew does the same.

This is their crewmate – their future crewmate, from what he told Luffy – who was there when they were not, and took a blow for Luffy straight through his chest that would have otherwise been fatal.

Without Jimbe, their captain would not have had a chance to live.

What is a moment, bowed over, to something as insurmountable as that?

“I – please, do not bow to me!” Jimbe rushes to say, stuttering, eyes wide when Nami looks out. One hand is held out while the other, always protective, lays around Luffy’s shoulder. “It was my duty to do so, my responsibility, same as any of you. Luffy – he’s the man who will become King of the Pirates. To follow him is enough thanks.” His words ring loud. Ring true.

This is the man Luffy wanted on his crew for two years.

Nami can see why.

His faith – the faith that moves seas, moves mountains, changes the world, the faith in one straw hatted man – that’s the faith of all her crew,

She wasn’t sure about Jimbe.

(He had been the cause of so much of her pain – but he didn’t choose to hurt her. He would never, now.)

She is now.

Zoro, ever the leader, ever the loyal first mate, looks up and settles back down. It reminds Nami so much of Water 7, except here their entire crew is present, and here, they will not be fractured ever again.

(She will make sure that happens – by any means necessary.)

“It is our responsibility.” Zoro acknowledges. “We grew stronger over these past few years, on our captain’s orders – did you?”

His single eye pierces Jimbe, and Nami can see him swallow. But he stares back, unafraid, a true helmsman always following the course.

“Aye,” Jimbe says, and the tension is shattered by Luffy turning entirely over in his sleep, shirt shifting to display his scar, but his face entirely peaceful.

They ease back into their conversations, debts settled, crewmates thanked and now equals. It’ll be a few minutes before Luffy is up, running for adventure with them following on his heels but for now –

Now, the savior of their captains rests easy with Luffy by his side, and everything is okay.

(Later, months later, after Wano and after Whole Cake and after Emperors, Nami will see Luffy sit up at night as they all camp out in the aquarium. He will clutch his chest, and curl in on himself, deadly quiet and pale. His fingers will dig in, and dig in, and dig in, and all Nami will do is watch until –

Jimbe sits up and catches Luffy’s hand in his own, his other mirroring Luffy’s position and clutching at his own scar. He will say breathe, and Luffy will breathe, and –

Their captain will be strong, surrounded by those who were not there, and smiling, if dimly, at the one who was.

And, for once, matching scars won’t hurt as bad.)

116 notes · View notes

yelenasdog · 3 years

Text

heavy is the head that wears the crown (mob!arvin russell x fem! pastor’s daughter! reader)

genre: angst+fluff

summary: arvin had always heard the saying “heavy is the head that wears the crown” but never truly understood what it meant. not until now

words: 4.06k

warnings: since this is based off of a tdatt, family death, mentions of death, mentions of mobs, kissing, marriage, murder, smoking, suicide, cancer and i think that’s it. it’s also kinda melodramatic, and i haven’t watched tdalt in a while so a lot could be plot inaccurate also idk anything abt the mob or mafia so like dont k*ll me thx i just like joe pesci

a/n: first, i owe the amazing concept of mob!arv to @kelieah ! so go follow her for more mob!arvin goodness!! basically i’m obsessed w 90s mob movies and watched goodfellas and casino and few too many times lately and oops here we r! i tried to write this from the narrator in tdatt’s view, so if u wanna read it like that then cool! btw the pic w the dress is just an idea of the dress reader is wearing not what she looks like! ok enjoy i’ll stop rambling

·。·。·。

“So, Arvin. I was told you paint houses? That true?”

Arvin hesitated, opening his mouth and closing it again. He wasn’t a painter, no, he killed people. For a price, that is.

But rather than saying no, the jab in his side from his uncle told him to answer otherwise.

“Yes, sir. It is.”

The Pastor nodded, taking a drag from his cigar, imported all the way from Cuba. He then placed what was left of the long stick in the crystal tray in front of him, the tapping of it on the reflective surface seeming almost deafening.

“Can all your family be traced down to one place, son?”

Arvin gulped, avoiding his eyes, darting his own around the heavily decorated room. Another jab to his side. He winced, meeting the older man’s eyes. He may not know much about the life he was about to enter, but he knew enough about what that meant.

“Yes, sir. They can be, minus my father and my mother. They’re gone.”

Not even a full beat of silence later, the Pastor spoke.

“How’d he die?”

Arvin was taken aback, though he knew that question was coming. His jaw clenched, as did his fist by his side. If the Pastor noticed, he didn’t speak on it, barely lifting his eyes from the document resting on his desk.

“Suicide, after the war.”

“And your mother?”

He took his lip in between his teeth, feeling the skin break, the tears well in his eyes for reasons he would excuse as the pain he was inflicting.

“Cancer. It happened when I was young, I didn’t barely even know her.”

The pastor looked up, slimming his eyes. This time he did notice the glimmering droplets, welling up in his chestnut colored eyes, threatening to fall. He appreciated the boy’s attempt to keep his emotions in check in front of his would be superior, leaning back into his chair.

“It’s alright, boy. You’re allowed to cry, it was your mother.” His southern accent was thick like molasses, his words drawing out. Arvin still felt that it wasn’t acceptable, though, so he only sniffled and directed his chin further up towards the ceiling. He stood there for a while, nerves running through his every cell. It was electric, like white lighting making its way through his veins at a painstakingly slow pace.

“Right then.”

The pastor stood, walking towards Arvin and his uncle. His expensive loafers tapped along the cold floor as he went, the sound pestering to the ears of Arvin, taunting him. He reached a soft hand out, which the boy standing opposite to him gladly took. He observed how the Pastor’s hand was without scars, calluses. Anything that would point to evidence of him being a killer, doing his own dirty work (or “the Lord’s work” as he liked to put it).

“Welcome to the family, son.”

And as Arvin smiled widely and shook his hand with an iron grip, he began to wonder what his new life would entail doing the “Lord’s work”.

He thought he had a pretty good idea, but boy, was he wrong.

“So, how’d it go?”

It was later, and Arvin was sitting with one his most favorite people, Y/n. The pair were resting in an open field, the wildflowers around her just almost competing with the beauty she held. He bashfully looked to the dirt under his shoes, noticing how only inches away, her hands picked at the damp grass.

“Went well, I think. He told me I’m ‘part of the family now’.”

She smiled at him, and in that moment with her hair so widely astray, and wearing that pale blue dress he adored so much, Arvin’s heart felt a certain emotion he hadn’t necessarily felt for someone at this multitude before. He had felt it for Lenora, his mother, his aunt and uncle. But it was different, then. Because now as he sat with her by his side, his love for her was realized at its full potential.

She began to ramble on, congratulating him on becoming a member of her father’s so called “family”, telling him how proud she was. He couldn’t keep focused on the sweet words that were falling from her lips like honey, though, as he was too caught up in his own head, his own thoughts.

“Arv?” She asked, voice laced with slight concern, but mostly with curiosity.

“Sorry, darlin’. Just thinking.”

She blushes, it’s the first time he’s called her that before. She tries to carry on conversation, though with her heart beating through that pretty dress of her’s, it was a bit difficult.

“About what?” She questioned, doing her very best not to pry too far, to be invasive in the very reserved Arvin’s mind.

Truthfully? He was promising himself that he would marry her one day, make her his wife. But telling her that he was only thinking “‘bout the future” would have to do. I mean, truthfully, he really was!

So he answered her, and she was content with said answer, abandoning the subject and returning to many praises for Arv. The standards for the “family” were high, and though she believed in him fiercely, she knew that at his core Arvin was the sweetest soul she’d ever met, and she was skeptical he could put that aside to do whatever the job would require.

“Arvin?”

He looked up, and she nearly lost her breath. It was Arvin’s sunkissed skin, tanned from working under the hot sun, the beams beating down on him. Or perhaps it was the freckles that lightly dusted his crooked nose, like a constellation from the cosmos above. Maybe even it was the mop that sat on his head, the color all the same of those sweet brown eyes of his. Whatever it was, she felt it could only mean one thing.

Y/n Y/l/n was confident she loved Arvin Russell.

“Hmm?” He asked, tilting his head like a confused canine. Adorably endearing, she thought.

And though she had much to say, she was afraid that if he were the dog in question, then the puppy had got her tongue, so to say.

“Y/n/n?” The boy said, nudging her with his elbow, making a melodious giggle erupt from her chest. “What, cat got your tongue?” Arvin teased, and she only shook her head and smiled, as he had no idea how correct he really was.

“You could say that.”

The two shared laughs over the exchange, and at some point (neither of them are quite sure when, how, or who leaned in first), their lips connected in a short and sweet kiss. It seemed that it only lasted for a moment, and as soon as they pulled apart, Arvin and Y/n both were dying for more.

But they resisted, Arvin reaching out a cautious hand to entangle with hers. She bashfully grinned, as did he (though he did his best to resist).

“Y/n, I really like you.” He had said, his thumb running small circles upon her skin. “And correct me if I’m wrong, but I think you like me too.” He laughed, nervous notes to the sound.

“And well, I was wondering if you’d like to be my girlfr-”

And with a light groan, Y/n had wrapped her arms around his neck, pushing both of them to the ground. She connected their lips, the kiss so oddly blunt, an attack on his lips that he had no plan of fighting off. His hands found her hair, and her’s moved to the sides of his face, holding him so tightly, as if she was afraid he would let go.

“Yes.” She pulled away panting, her lips swollen, his flushed. “Yes, I’d love to be your girlfriend, Arvin.”

They smiled as bright as the setting sun above them, and Arvin pulled her close as she buried her face in the warm crook of his neck. They stayed like that ‘till the sun went down and the stars came out of hiding, the cool summer breeze blowing around them. They both still felt it, then, the love they had only just began to realize was there. And they would continue to feel it for years to come.

Like when Arvin would get back from a job, sometimes with blood splattered on his crisp white shirts, his dirty work getting, well, dirty. She would slowly peel it from his body, taking care to make sure he wasn’t hurt. She would do her best to wash the crimson stains from the fabric, sighing if it was seeming to be of no use. Arvin would come up behind her where she was working at the sink, wrapping his strong arms around her middle and resting his head on her shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Arv,” she would start, blowing a stray strand of hair out of her face, “damn thing won’t budge.” Arvin would just chuckle, reaching up a gentle hand, gentle only for her, to tuck the hair behind her ear, quietly speaking.

“Well I think it looks pretty good, darlin’. It’ll do just fine.” He would spin her around to face him, and pepper small kisses on her skin, smiling at her reaction. And if he was hurt, she would take care to use a warm washcloth, wiping the scarlet splatters from his creamy complexion.

The juxtaposition of the shades was always bewildering for her, oddly beautiful in a way. She never said so, though, only muttering praises of how proud she was, how strong he is, things like that. And Arvin would watch her, honey colored eyes following her as she moved about to fix him right up. No pain would have any real effect on him, not when she was there to reassure him, make him whole again.

As Arvin moved up in their small town world, in the “family”, he remained just as kind, just as gentle. Nothing really changed, no, only the lines on his forehead deepening and the crows feet becoming darker when he smiled; And Y/n’s role, as well. She stopped cleaning him up, stopped trying to rid his shirts of bloody reminders of his living. Arvin seemed to no longer be “painting walls’, but rather making sure jobs were done, everyone was staying in their places.

And things led to another, and all of a sudden Y/n and Arvin were moving into a big house, bigger than Arvin had ever even been in before. Deals and arrangements were made, settlements too.

One regular Tuesday, Arvin came home from what Y/n could tell had been a long, long, day. He was exhausted, but had this unmistakable look of excitement and joy plastered to his face. He had come in bursting through the door, not even taking off his hat or overcoat before making his way over to Y/n and kissing her silly.

“Well hello to you, too, Arv.” She laughed, amusement and curiosity both equally swirling around in her brain, wondering what could possibly have inspired this behavior.

“Things are happening, sweetheart, good, good things.” He took her hands in his, briefly shaking them before planting a kiss to them and walking away, a big smile on his face. And truth be told, not that she would admit it, it scared the Hell outta her. She wasn’t quite sure as to why, but something was itching at her brain, warning her that whatever was brewing wasn't a good thing. But nevertheless, she maintained her grin, painted lips never faltering.

The next day, when the “good things” were supposed to be happening, Arvin was seriously wondering why on God’s green Earth he had expected this to be easy.

“Come again, son?”

Arvin swallowed, shifting on his feet. He mentally scolded himself for ending up in this position again, standing in front of the Pastor’s desk, all kinds of confused. But it had to be this way, it was for the best, he knew. The sun shone through the window above the desk in front of him, right into his eyes, nearly blinding him. The Pastor didn’t really care, though.

“I’m asking for your blessing to ask Y/n’s hand in marriage, sir.”

The older man slowly nodded in understanding, taking a long drag from the expensive cigar between his fat fingers, the gold ring on his pinky also shining brightly under the harsh sun’s light.

“I just thought that after our arrangement-”

“Arvin, I don’t regret making you an heir, I don’t.” He stated, blowing out a long stream of smoke. “Hell, I can feel something big and bad coming, boy, you understand? I know God’s will is holding out on us, on this family. But it’s running thin.”

The young man clenched his jaw, internally cringing on what that might mean to the family, for the family, what it meant for Y/n. He bit his tongue, feeling the iron seep onto his taste buds.

“And I know those damn Teagardins are plotting, they’re plotting for our downfall. Making you next in line is something they won’t see coming, and I trust it’ll stay that way. But I don’t quite understand

“Well I love your daughter, I love her so much that it hurts. And if worst comes to worst…” he stopped, his bottom lip wavering for a moment, trying to carefully dance around the different outcomes of this conversation. “I feel I’ll be better able to protect her if we’re married, if she’s truly mine.” That part might have been a lie. Y/n has never been his, never would be. She was her own person, outside Arvin, outside the family. It was what he loved about her above all else.

The Pastor was quiet for a moment contemplating his response, calculating it.

“Would you die for her?”

“Yes.” The answer came without thought, it was automatic for Arvin.

The Pastor smiled widely, lifting his arms.

“So, when’s the wedding, Arv?

Turns out, it was exactly a year, a month, and 6 days until Y/n and Arvin would tie the knot. Arvin had spent time, waiting to find the perfect moment to ask her the big question. He had decided on a night where the moon was bright and the sky was clear. They sat together in what they had donned “their” field, the greenery around them rustling in the wind. Though he was nervous, he had delivered a stunning speech that had taken poor Y/n’s heart by force. It ended up with both of them crying like babies and a shiny ring on Y/n’s finger.

The wedding itself had taken place on a beautiful summer’s day, and Y/n had worn a pretty white dress that had made Arvin almost faint when he saw her, standing there on her father’s arm. She was all decked out in the most expensive diamonds and pearls, courtesy of her father, making her shine like a crystal of sorts.

It was the best night of her life, Arv’s too. But the joy they had felt must have an inevitable end, as the worst night (Arvin’s too) was soon to follow.

It had been an ambush, the death of the Y/l/n family. The death toll had managed to wrack up every member immediate member of the esteemed mob family, including the Pastor, his wife, and their two sons. A bomb planted in the trunk of their Cadillac that had gone off, placed there by who knows.

When Arvin had heard, his immediate reaction was to thank God that Y/n had decided to stay with him that day, to go lay in the fields just the two of them. Immediately after she had been told, she had fallen into Arvin, her entire body weight being put into his arms. Sobs wracked through her frame, her tears dampening Arvin’s yellow button up.

Once she had “come to”, Y/n had grown to be furious rather than sad. As when you look at the lineage of her family, look at the ranks of the mob and who’s to rise to power when the one in front of them dies, well Arvin was right after Y/n’s big brother, Jamie.

And Y/n had loved her big brother, she had loved him very much and would like to believe that Arvin, her sweet, sweet Arvin, would never do anything of that multitude just to satiate his hunger and appetite for power. The hunger for power she wasn’t even aware he possessed. But how in the Hell was she even supposed to be sure?

“I want to believe you, Arv, I do. But I can’t! It don’t make any damn sense, Arvin!”

“You really think that low of me, Y/n/n?”

Y/n had been shouting, trying to confront him for a crime he hadn’t committed. But Arvin was calm as he spoke, his eyes only watering and his voice only bordering on wavering. Y/n reached a trembling hand to her scalp, pulling lightly on her roots. The tears slipping down her face were hot and salty and she hated it so much.

“What else am I supposed to think?” She lifted an arm, sniffling before putting her other one on her waist, the blue of her dress, the same dress Arvin adored so much, just barely matching what was to become of her mood. She was started to regress, the red hot anger from before transforming to a stormy blue of unsure waters.

“My whole family is dead, and it just so happened that you asked me to stay with you the day they died! My whole family is dead!” She screamed, her voice a crescendo of sorts. “And everyone is clean, Arv, except you. You got the motive, you got the alibi, I’ll give you that much.” She paused, briefly wiping her nose and looking to the blank wall to the left of her father’s office. “It’s funny;” she dryly chuckled, and Arvin looked up.

“You went from doing my daddy’s dirty work to gettin’ some poor bastard to do your own. Ironic isn’t it?”

Arvin stepped towards her, pain twisting his insides up to see his best girl afraid of him, cowering away from his touch.

“You still have me, Y/n. I’m your family.”

She looked to her feet and back to him, shaking her head.

“No, Arv. You’re not. And you will be sorry for what you did to him, to all of them. You will be.” She said, walking away with her heels clicking heavily on the wooden floors. Arvin stood still for a while, not quite sure where to go next. But it dawned on him as the stained glass shone down on his feet in the most poetic manner, that he was already there.

So he dragged his feet along with him, breaths ragged and short, his head slowly tilting up towards the glorious light. He only had to go a few feet, before he sat down in the old leather chair, the only emotions he felt being those of an imposter. He thought back to all the nervous conversations he’d had with the pastor while he was sitting in that chair, a trembling Arvin usually standing opposite, awaiting instruction.

He darted his eyes across the mahogany surface in front of him, looking at all the various things that he only could associate with Y/n’s father. His valued cigar box, the crystalline tray that rested next to it. (He swore he could still smell the fresh smoke, wafting from the little dish.) He opened it, the latch clinking before his hand reached in and his fingers clasped around one of the thick rolls of tobacco. Before he could light it, he felt overwhelmed all of a sudden, and dropped it back into the box, slamming the lid.

He laid back, resting his weary head. Arvin took a deep breath through his nose, exhaling through his mouth, before falling into a not so peaceful slumber.

He was only woken minutes later, Joseph, Y/n’s uncle, wanting to know if Arvin had seen her lately. He shook his head, muttering an annoyed “No”. Joseph got the idea relatively quickly, exiting the room. He heard the chapel’s doors close, taking that as his queue to leave once he saw the time. So he grabbed his hat and his coat, leaving the office and making his way through the dimly lit space. His attention was caught, though, by the cross by the front pews, so beautifully shining. Arvin put down his things, and walked over to the pew, sitting down on the uncomfortable hardwood. He bowed his head, putting his interlocked fingers utop the surface in front of him.

He hadn’t done this in awhile, this whole praying thing. It seemed naive in his way of life, with the things that happened around him, the people lost. But nonetheless, if ever, now was a good time to try.

“Heavenly Father, I, I, uh, I need to talk to you. To, uh, set the record straight.” His hands were sweaty, tears welling in his eyes.

“Y/n, she’s- well she’s the love of my life, God, and I don’t think she loves me anymore. Hell, she wants me dead. But I don’t blame her, I couldn’t ever. Not after...” he paused, his bottom lip shaking, “Not if she thinks I killed her family. But I didn’t, Father, I didn’t and I could never. But she don’t see that. I need her to see that.” He raised his voice, the bitter droplets rolling down his reddened cheeks, hitting his shoes.

“I can’t live without her, I won’t. So I guess I’m askin’ you a favor, Lord. Just… let her know I didn’t do it, that I would never hurt her.” His voice cracked, his words barely audible, not that whoever was listening cared.

“That I love her so much.”

Arvin muttered something of an “Amen”, and then just sat there for he wasn’t sure how long. His silence was interrupted by a mellow and raw voice, cutting through the silence like the sharpest dagger.

“It was the Teagardin family. I just found out.”

Arvin stood and turned so fast he dizzied himself, having to hold onto the back of the pew for stability. His bottom lip quivered, his flushed features gaining a confused look.

“Y/n/n? How long you been there?” He questioned, not bothering to wipe his eyes. She shifted from one foot to the other, fumbling with her hands.

“Long enough.”

There was a mutual understanding at her few words from the two of them, and an apology within them all the same. Her eyes were bloodshot, her nose runny and her overall appearance disheveled. Despite that, just the fact that she was there, to him, made her the most beautiful girl in the world.

Arvin could tell she was holding herself back, her emotions, too, as she started to speak, barely able to get through a sentence as she rambled about how she shouldn’t have assumed things, and that it wasn’t right of her to accuse her beloved of something so dire. But none of it mattered to Arvin as he strode towards her, her words only ceasing when he finally wrapped his arms around her.

“I’m so sorry, Arv.” She sobbed, gripping onto him for dear life. That was all she said, repeating it over and over again with the exception of “I love you” also being reiterated.

Her husband spoke over her hushed tone, saying “It’s alright, doll, I know. You were right to think that, it’s not your fault. It was never your fault.” They continued that way for some time until they both regained their bearings, Arvin wrapping an arm around her shoulders and walking down the front stairs of the chapel.

“Let’s go home, sweet girl.” He had said, so they did. Arvin kissed the side of her head, regarding once more how he loved her, before starting the ride home, his hand on her thigh the whole time, not wanting to let her go for even a second.

His mind was plagued with thoughts of the past, and he remembered an old saying he had heard long ago. What was it? Ah, you know what they say.

“Heavy is the head that wears the crown.”

·。·。·。

how we feeling folks did we like? gimme feedback if u wanna! mwah love u, take care of urself

xx hj

137 notes · View notes

cummingforkylo · 3 years

Text

I wrote a little something. I’m sorry I’ve been gone. Hopefully people enjoy this! Let me know if you want a continuation.

Teach

Rating: Explicit

Cw: Innocence kink, light humiliation, rough blowjobs, dubcon

Word Count: 1,377

“I don’t understand,” You could barely hear your own voice, you spoke it so quietly. Kylo heard it though. There was a crackle of energy that burst from his lightsaber as it ignited. Your body hummed. That was part of what you didn’t understand, what was this humming, jumpy feeling you got in your stomach, tingling through your chest when he did anything, when he looked at you, when he moved, when he ignited his saber.

“I told you to get on your knees-“

“Why?” You asked, interrupting him. Darkness crossed his face, even in the glowing of the red lightsaber you saw the shadow in his eyes. Interrupting him brought out more of that humming in your body, the way he glared at you made something tighten in your stomach. What could this possibly be? You still didn’t understand. The lightsaber should have scared you, the way his lip twitched, his eyes burned with rage, should have terrified you but no, you felt excited—was that it? Excited? For what?

“Isn’t that the proper way to greet your Supreme Leader? Knelt before me?” He growled. He was maskless, shockingly lovely to look at even in his anger, even with the sardonic expression on his face. You took a deep breath in,

“I’m not part of the first order, you can’t command-“

“I will command whoever I’d like, you nasty, little girl.” He stepped towards you, towering over you. Again, unbidden you felt that humming, tingling all through your belly, up into your chest, down your arms into your very fingertips. “Now, knees.” And with the word you felt your legs bend and you crashed to the floor, your legs locked, unable to move. Kylo took another step towards you, his hand reached out and he stroked your cheek, “This is a very flattering angle on you.” He said, his finger moved down to your chin and he tilted your face up. “Finally, we can get back to what I wanted you here for.” He said, he retracted the lightsaber and clipped it to his belt once again. Cool air and disappointment flooded through you. Kylo’s gloved hand dropped from your face and he began to work at undoing his pants,

“I-I don’t understand!” You said again, your eyes flicking from his hands back up to his face. He snorted,

“I’m sick of this game.” He said. You stared up at him, your eyes wide, unsure. Kylo’s brow twitched, you watched as understanding seemed to dawn on him. You weren’t playing a game, you weren’t lying to him. “You don’t know what you’re here for? You don’t understand it?” He asked. You shook your head and he continued to undo his pants, “Shall I make it clear?” he asked. Before you could answer, you felt something, tingling and humming, this time in your most private places and this time it was very physical. Not just a feeling inside you of want, or excitement, instead a very real sensation, running along the the lips of your sex, stroking with intention that made you gasp. Confusion mixed with want and you stared up at him, your legs still locked in their position on the floor. Kylo had managed to get his pants undone now and was pushing them down. The persistent feeling didn’t let up or change as he moved but you knew, just knew that he was doing this. Doing it with the Force.

Embarrassment flooded through you, as you realized what a violation this was, how wrong what he was doing was. You were disgusted with yourself for wanting it, for being pleased by it. Kylo’s hand shot out and grabbed the back of your head as he pants came down and his cock, hard and big sprang free. You stared, you had known that men had different body parts than women but you hadn’t seen one in real life, you hadn’t imagined that it would make you feel like this. Excitement flushed your cheeks, the way he stroked your pussy with the force only added to the excitement and yet, you hated yourself for feeling like this. There was a lot you didn’t understand but you knew this was wrong.

“This is what you’re here for.” He said, “Open your mouth for me,” he instructed and against your better judgement you did. His cock pressed into your open and waiting lips and your brow furrowed. You had no idea what to do, so you just stared up at him, his cock in your mouth, nearly gagging you just like that. “Suck it,” he instructed. When you didn’t move, he stared down at you.

“Are you an idiot?” He asked, pulling his cock away from you. The stroking of your sex with the Force stopped and you found yourself longing for it back. “You truly don’t know any of this, do you, girl?” he asked. You shook your head. Kylo’s hand move from the back of your head down to your cheeks and he held your face in his hand. Thumb pressing into your cheek on one side, fingers on the other, squeezing your face. “It seems as though you need a teacher then, don’t you?” he asked, his voice dark, dangerous. “I can teach you.” He added, his eyes moving over your face, taking in your expression. “I can take every,” he thumb moved down from your cheek and ran across your lips, “tiny,” he pressed it into your mouth, you could taste the leather. “Bit,” he forced his thumb farther back into your mouth, pressing down. “of your innocence.” Kylo ripped his thumb from your mouth but still held your face steady in his hand, “And destroy it.” He straightened up and replaced his thumb with his cock. “Open your mouth, lick right around the head.” He instructed, his voice flat, almost bored but his cock was throbbing, hard. You did as you were told, you didn’t say anything but you wished he was still using the Force on your pussy.

“Get it wet, girl. You’ll be sorry if you don’t.” Kylo said as his hand moved back to your hair and gripped it hard. You tried to lick the head and down the shaft enough to get it nice and wet but you barely got all the way down when Kylo’s fist in your hair guided you back up and he plunged his cock into your mouth. No, it passed your mouth and went into your throat. You gagged and spit involuntarily filled your mouth and dripped onto his cock. Your body throbbed, even without the feeling of the Force stroking your most sensitive places, you felt as though you were humming. You wanted to be touched and as he grabbed you and forced his cock into your throat, you somehow wanted it more. Kylo pulled you up and down on his cock, doing most of the work and then he tugged you off of him. You shuddered and gasped a little, staring up at him plaintively, you watched him throw his head back to catch his breath, his face was beautiful, pale, with a freckle here and there, red lips, strong nose. He was striking and you were in awe, you had never seen a man that looked like this. His hand gripped your hair even tighter, and you let out a gasp of pleasure and excitement. Again, you watched his face change, confusion, interest and finally, understanding,

“You like this, dont you?” he asked, his voice soft and dangerous. “You’re enjoying when I’m rough with you,” he mused. Your cheeks flushed, embarrassment washed over you again. Him knowing that you liked all of this was worse than realizing it yourself by so much.

“No-“ You tried to gasp, he shook her head by your hair.

“Don’t lie to me, girl.” He said, leaning over to be close to you. “You liked me using the Force on your cunt. You like having me shove my cock down your throat. You like the way I teach you.” He said. You let out a whine and looked away. “It’s okay. You don’t have to admit it yet. But you will.” He said, his free hand traced your cheek towards your lips again. “Shall we continue?”

#kylo ren #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren reader insert #kylo ren smut #kylo ren x you #i just wanted to write #its probably shit #lol

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acnelli · 3 years

Text

The Beholder

This is one of my entries for the @romioneficfest 2021. Please check out all of the submitted stories; you can find them HERE.

A huge shout-out to @divagonzo for hosting this fest again. Just like last year it provided me with so many lovely ficlets to read, written by talented and creative authors.

Thank you, @curlyy-hair-dont-care, for beta-reading this story! <3

Rating: T

Warnings: implied sexual content, body image

Prompt: Ron catches Hermione in a moment of self-doubt

Summary: Hermione is not happy with the way she looks in her new lingerie.

You can also read this story on AO3 and FFN.

*** *** *** ***

Hermione stood in front of the large mirror in their bedroom, a prominent frown on her face. She let her hands glide over the black lace of the undergarments she bought today. It was a spontaneous decision, one she already regretted as the flimsy material showed in painful obviousness how her body had changed over the last couple of years.

She never had been a person who spent much time caring for her appearance. Her mother had not used make-up and Hermione figured this was the reason she never picked up an interest in using it every day, save for some special occasions where she put on some mascara and lipstick.

And the battle with her bushy hair had been given up a long time ago. Something Ron was vocally happy about since he kept on insisting he preferred her hair in its wild, curly state.

It was their wedding anniversary today, meaning they would go out for some fancy dinner. A real treat when parenting two kids, who were six- and four years old. The little dragons were at Ginny and Harry's tonight and Hermione wanted to make the most out of having the house all to themselves. And what better way to spice up their much-needed alone time with some sexy, rather uncomfortable lingerie?

Again, she examined her thighs showing above the stockings, her hands brushing over her hips and down to her bum, gripping the cheeks. Her once petite body wasn't petite anymore. Instead of the small, round arse she used to show off in tight jeans or a nice pencil skirt, there were wide hips and stretch marks. Where there had been a flat belly, her tummy now hid some of the knicker's waistband at the front.

Why she chose today to acknowledge this was beyond her, but Hermione shook her head and decided to put on a lace nightgown instead later, hoping her mood would brighten again by the time Ron would come home from work.

Sighing in defeat she gave her reflection one last sad look before quickly reaching for the bra clasp, determined to get out of the flimsy underwear to dress for their night out.

"Not so fast."

Hermione stopped in her tracks and whipped around towards the bedroom door where Ron was leaning against the door frame.

"Ron! I did not hear you coming home." Hermione stammered, her eyes wide and her hands trying to find a position that would provide the most cover to her half naked body.

She could already feel the heat of the oncoming blush flushing her cheeks as Ron smirked at her, still standing at the door with his arms crossed in front of him.

"I'd rather you leave this task to me," Ron said, pointing at Hermione's black lace bra.

"I just-," Hermione's voice faltered a bit and she took a second to clear her throat, trying to appear slightly more dignified than she felt, "This doesn't fit."

"It seems to fit rather fine," Ron objected as he slowly walked towards her, "These are new, aren't they?"

Hermione nodded and turned back to the mirror as Ron walked up behind her. Watching the reflection of her husband and herself she couldn't help but complain about the unfairness. "How can you eat more than everyone else, but still be so skinny? I just have to look at a piece of chocolate nowadays and it immediately adds to my midriff."

Automatically, her arms slung around said body section but Ron caught her wrists, uncovering her waist and belly again. He stepped even closer until he stood flush against Hermione's back and wrapped her into his arms from behind. A soft moan escaped her lips at the feeling of Ron's hard body pressed up against her.

She usually loved the sight of his pale, freckled skin standing out starkly against her bronze complexion and usually, she would take her time admiring them for a minute. The only thing she could focus on today though was the way her body hid Ron's mid-section, so much slimmer than hers.

Still, she closed her eyes as Ron's hands started to glide down her sides and rested on her thighs, stroking the skin right above the lace of her stockings. His big hands always felt so good.

"So, you'll ditch me should I get fat?"

Her eyes snapped open and found Ron's blue ones looking back at her, a mischievous glint in them. "Of course, not!" She rolled her eyes at him.

"Because," Ron placed a soft kiss on her shoulder, "You apparently think a little body fat makes one less attractive. And since I don't plan to reduce my sugar intake, it's not entirely impossible that you'll have to deal with a bigger version of me someday."

"Like that will ever happen," Hermione raised an eyebrow at him but couldn't suppress a smirk, "Your arse will be skinny and tiny forever. A bean pole for eternity. Plus, I didn't marry you for your stellar body."

Ron barked out a laugh but a second later he continued roaming his hands all over Hermione's body. His touch made her tingle all over and combined with his intense gaze meeting her in the mirror, she almost forgot about her imperfect body parts.

"Hermione," Ron said with a hint of demand lacing his voice, making sure Hermione was looking him into his eyes, "you know I think you're fucking gorgeous, right?" He gave her tummy a light squeeze.

"As my husband, you have to say that." Hermione put her own hands over Ron's.

"As your husband, it's my duty to tell you when you're being mental," he told her, sweeping Hermione's curls to one side and started to kiss the now exposed side of her neck, "And if you think my mouth didn't go completely dry the second I saw you in these," He traced one of her bra straps to emphasize his words, "I sure as hell need to remind you how beautiful you are."

"I'm having a hard time finding myself beautiful nowadays," Hermione admitted as she lowered her head to the side to give Ron easier access for his kisses and nibbles on her soft skin.

"Well, they say beauty is in the eye of the beholder," Ron said and when he squeezed her breasts through the bra, Hermione couldn't help but be happy about one positive side effect of gaining weight; her boobs filled out more and especially wrapped in black lace, they looked mouth-watering, even to herself.

"So, let this beholder show you exactly how damn sexy he thinks you are," Ron whispered as he let one of her bra straps glide down over her shoulder and captured her lips in a deep kiss.

Unsurprisingly, they missed their anniversary dinner, as Ron took his time, showing in great detail how much he loved every inch of Hermione Granger-Weasley.

#romione ficfest 2021 #romione #romione fanfic #romione fanfiction #hermione granger #ron weasley #hp #hp fanfic #harry potter #hermione x ron #ron x hermione #ron and hermione #hermione and ron #ronmione #mine #my fanfic #my stories

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