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bealovesmarauders · 1 year

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paper rings // gilbert blythe

or,

the 4 times gilbert blythe fell in love with you, and the 1 time he knew he’d do it all over again

⋆ ࣪. ⁺⑅ ⋰˚ *.ﾟ .˳⁺⁎˚ ˚⁎⁺˳ . ༺ ˖

gilbert blythe x fem!reader

wc: 5.7k

i like shiny things, but i’d marry you with paper rings

a/n: trying something new here! i’ve never used this format (five times // one time- i tweaked it to make it four and one since i’m exhausted) so i hope you all enjoy <3 also fair warning that this is not historically accurate. but i actually spend my summers in PEI (and have for my entire life) so i think my portrayal of the environment at least is good! also, this is rushed as per usual :)

⋆ ࣪. ⁺⑅ ⋰˚ *.ﾟ .˳⁺⁎˚ ˚⁎⁺˳ . ༺ ˖

one. when he walked you home from school.

the late june air was sticky in the avonlea schoolhouse, clinging to skin, beads of sweat gathering by brows. sunlight spilled through the windows, and even billy andrews couldn’t muster enough enthusiasm to tease anyone in this heat. pinafores too heavy for this weather, the girls gathered in one corner, pretending to read the excerpt mr phillips had picked out for today, but in honesty, you were all just complaining about the summer heat.

“i can’t wait until i have my hair up,” ruby gillis sighed, casting a longing glance across the room towards the boys. “my ribbon does suit my complexion, of course- but it’s much too hot in summer to have my hair down.”

murmurs of agreement spread throughout your little group. “i tried it one time,” whispered anne dramatically, “when marilla was away. it was rather romantic, but the pins hurt a great deal.”

sitting in between jane andrews and tillie boulter, you tried not to zone out. gaze drifting across the classroom, you caught gilbert blythe’s eye from where he was sitting with the boys, and he shot you a quick smile. you gave him a shy one back, and looked away before you could blush. you’d known gilbert forever- his family was close to yours- but something had changed recently, and you couldn’t quite put your finger on it.

mr. phillips finally dismissed the class, and in a rush of rowdiness, the boys all excused themselves from the schoolhouse, whooping and hollering about a potential skinny dip in the wild waves. in a flurry of giggles and secrets, your friends gathered their books and rushed outside (in a rather unladylike manner- but it was summer and the world was their oyster, so who cared). you knew diana was hosting a tea party over the weekend- complete with ice cream, she’d said!- but as far as you knew, there were no plans for tonight, save the beach trip the boys had talked about. trying your best to avoid the heat for as long as possible, you lingered in the coatroom, taking the time to adjust your hat into place. but you weren’t alone, and you startled as a familiar face appeared over your shoulder.

“gilbert,” you said, his name sweet on your tongue. “you’re not going to the beach with billy?”

he shook his head. “i’m not quite in the mood for that today. but i was wondering. do you want- can i- would you like some company on your walk home?”

heart in your throat, you looked at the boy you’d known your whole life. was gilbert blythe asking to walk you home? you nodded wordlessly, and his eyes immediately softened. there was a nervousness you’d never seen in him before, a cautiousness, as if he were treading on eggshells and was terrified to break them. “i- i’d love that, gilbert, thank you.” a smile slowly spread across his face, and you seemed to see him in a new light. noticing the things you hadn’t before. the softness of his dark eyes and the way they sparkled. the gentle curve of his jaw. the way he smelled like rosemary and mint soap and the blythe farm’s apple orchard, mixed with a hint of cinnamon. the way gilbert blythe was the prettiest boy you’d ever seen.

“great,” he said, finally breaking you out of your reverie. “i wouldn’t want you to get heatstroke, after all. it’d be ungentlemanly of me to let you go home without making sure you’re alright in this heat.”

your stomach erupted with butterflies, and you walked in silence with him as you left the schoolhouse. treading along the path, your footsteps settled into the same rhythm, and eventually gilbert spoke, his voice clear among the songbirds and crickets.

“how’s your family? i haven’t seen them in a fortnight.”

his tone was proper and gentlemanly, but curious and kind. you looked shyly up at him. gilbert was tall, taller than you, sturdy with broad shoulders and a grin that showed off a lopsided roguishness once in a while on his otherwise serious face. you gripped your books a little tighter, trying to focus your thoughts back to the conversation. “they’re good, thanks for asking. mother’s been wondering about you, though. she’s wanted to drop soup off for your father, but wasn’t sure if he’d appreciate it. it’s been a while since you were over, so she doesn’t know if he still likes biscuits or bone broth.”

gilbert scuffed the ground with his boot a little bit, looking down at you contemplatively. “that’s kind of her,” he said. “he’s barely been able to keep anything down, but he likes soup. i’m not sure about the biscuits, but i’d certainly like some. i wouldn’t mind some of your mother’s plum preserves either. i haven’t had much time to go into town for food lately.”

you’d noticed. there were shadows under his eyes, and he’d always been on the lanky side, but since gilbert had taken on more of the farm work you’d observed his cheeks grow more drawn. his muscles had grown, too- another result of all the wood chopping you knew he was doing- but he lacked energy, and your heart ached for the boy. cicadas chirped as you walked in unison through the path, minding the garden snakes slinking through the tall grass, and an idea sparked in your mind as you passed the field signaling close to home.

“gilbert,” you said thoughtfully, stopping in your tracks. “mother was going to make a layer cake today, with raspberry preserves and clotted cream. i’m sure it’s cooled by now. we can have a little picnic, you and i- we have lemonade at home too, that rachel lynde brought us, and father thinks it’s too tart, so he wants to get rid of it. you can bring some home for your father as well. mother wouldn’t mind, i promise- i can make us a picnic basket, and we can sit in that field.”

gilbert turned towards you, and you couldn’t quite decipher the expression on his face. “i don’t want you to pity me,” he said quietly. “much less drag your family into it.”

“no, no,” you said quickly, fearing he’d interpreted your invitation the wrong way. “just a picnic, to catch up, as friends. we haven’t talked in a while. i miss you.”

he bit his lip. you could almost see the gears turning in his head. “alright,” he said finally. “it’s almost summer, after all. i think- i think i’d like that.”

when you reached your house, your mother was more than happy to oblige, giving gilbert a big hug and fussing over how much taller he’d gotten since the last time she saw him. you cut two pieces of cake and put them on plates in the straw picnic basket along with the bottle of mrs. lynde’s infamous lemonade. your mother even let you bring the crystal glasses used for special occasions- she trusted the both of you well enough to know that you wouldn’t break them. covering up the basket with a red checkered tablecloth, you and gilbert set off again, waving goodbye to your mother and finding a spot in the field where there was a tree with enough shade to sit under. clover and goldenrod and cornstalk bloomed in the field, and the cool, sweet grass tickled the bottom of your dress. gilbert, beside you, leaned back against the tree, his broad shoulder touching yours, and spooned a large amount of cake into his mouth. it was the happiest you’d seen him in months. the thin layer of ruby jelly in between the vanilla layers coloured the cupid’s bow of your lips, and gilbert realized in that moment that he wanted very badly to take you into his arms and kiss you. but the moment was fleeting, and gilbert was left with the idea of love lingering on his mind.

that was the first time gilbert blythe realized he was falling for you.

two. when you showed up on his doorstep in the rain.

rain poured outside, streaking the windows and trickling down the roofs of avonlea’s houses. sorrow hung in the air, and black clothing had dominated the church the day prior. it was not often that avonlea had funerals, and when they were, they were a somber affair, impacting every one of its citizens. especially now. it seemed as though the whole world had watched mr. blythe’s casket descend into the soil, and now the rain was fertilizing it. perhaps flowers would bloom on top of his grave. the entirety of the little town hoped so- anything to bring comfort to the blythe’s only son.

you’d seen gilbert at the funeral, features etched with sorrow, tears brimming at the corners of his eyes. but he’d looked resigned as well- putting on a strong face for those who could not. ruby had sobbed hysterically, as had rachel lynde, and even marilla cuthbert had shed a tear. normally, you would have talked to gilbert. you’d been over the day before mr. blythe had died, bringing with you a sweater you and your mother had knit together to help keep him warm. you’d known his health was declining, but it was even more heart wrenching seeing gilbert that way- expression unmoving, body stiff as he accepted the gift. you’d only had a moment with him before mr. blythe erupted into coughs again- a second in which gilbert’s mask slipped and you truly saw the fear plaguing his mind. you’d wished you could have said something to make it all better. but you hadn’t. you couldn’t.

and now you were on his porch, clutching a package of baking soda biscuits and a small posy of forget-me-nots in your hands. you were shivering from the cold rain, and you’d gotten soaked on the way over, but it was worth it. there seemed to be barely any movement in the gray house- you couldn’t spot any candles lit inside from the windows- and you were wondering if gilbert was even here when all of a sudden the door swung open and he appeared.

his expression was unreadable, brown eyes deep with emotion and seeded in sadness. “hi,” he said. “gil,” you breathed back.

after a moment of silence, the words came back to you. “these are for you,” you said, reaching out. your hands were shaking, and whether they were from nerves or the cold, gilbert couldn’t tell. he took the flowers and the parcel from your outstretched hands, almost unsure what to do with them. “they’re biscuits,” you said, mouth dry, trying to fill the quiet. “mother’s baking soda ones. you mentioned you liked them one time, and we were out of plum preserves, but i-”

“thank you,” gilbert said, and although it sounded slightly robotic, his words felt genuine. you looked at your shoes, unsure of what to say next. your parents had always taught you to say “i’m sorry for your loss” to someone grieving, but the phrase felt too unfamiliar. “i- i’ll leave you to it, then,” you stuttered, backing away from the door and turning to go. you didn’t want to intrude- even if he was your friend. because that’s what you were, right? friends. friends visited during difficult times. friends didn’t want to hug all the sadness out of him. but gilbert’s voice cracked when he spoke next, and you turned around.

“no,” he said clumsily. the words are rushed and jumbled from his mouth, and he stumbles over the next ones too. “please. you’re freezing, and soaking wet. come in.”

up until then, you’d hoped you didn’t look that bad. your straw hat had managed to protect the top of your head, but the rest of your hair was stringy and dripping over your shoulders. your cheeks were also flushed, and even in what should have been a moment focused on his own grief, gilbert found himself worrying that you’d catch pneumonia in this weather. he hadn’t expected anyone to visit today, especially not in a rainstorm.

seeing the concern in his eyes, you realized that walking all the way home in a thunderstorm was probably not such a good idea, so you stepped in cautiously per gilbert’s invitation. the house was warm, but everything seemed dim and gray. the door you knew led to mr. blythe’s bedroom was closed, and you could see gilbert’s eyes darting towards it as well, as if he were praying you wouldn’t say anything. gilbert set down the parcel of biscuits on the kitchen table and looked around for something.

“do you have a vase?” you asked quietly. “i can fill it up with water for you. i thought the forget-me-nots would bring a little light.”

gilbert nodded, but sucked in a breath. you turned to him with a questioning look. “the vase,” he said, voice dry. “it’s in his room. mrs. lynde brought some peonies over while he was still sick, and i didn’t take them out. he’s always hated peonies- he thinks they’re too big and bold. but he would’ve loved these.”

you lightly touched the small forget me not bouquet, felt the soft petals under your fingertips. “you don’t have to use a vase,” you replied softly. “a mug will do.” gilbert stood motionless in the middle of the kitchen, and you maneuvered around him, carefully filling up the pottery with water and placing the flowers in it.

he seemed rooted to the floor, even when he focused his gaze on the posy. your glance met his, and the sorrow was evident. gilbert hadn’t cried at the funeral- you’d never seen him cry. but now tears were brimming at the corners of his soft chocolate eyes, threatening to spill over, and in a moment your body overtook your mind and you had wrapped your arms around gilbert in a hug.

for a moment you regretted it. but then he was hugging you back, clutching your arms, holding onto you as if you were his lifeline. and in a way, you were. you could feel his hot breath on the back of your neck, hear his muffled cries. due to his height, your face was nestled in the crook of gilbert’s neck, and the two of you stayed like that, intertwined, for several long moments.

when gilbert finally pulled away, he knew that for better or for worse, you would be there for him until the day he died.

three. when you exchanged christmas presents in the snow.

to be honest, you hadn’t expected gilbert to come back from the steamer, or trinidad. you’d kept in close correspondence with him, saving the letters he sent you in a special drawer in your writing desk. you memorized his handwriting- the candid tone recalling his tales- the stamps on the envelope. but it still came as a surprise when he’d arrived back.

everything had been awkward at the start, but as soon as gilbert told you all the tales of his travels, you’d slowly slipped back into your old dynamic. there was still a line the both of you were toeing, trying to test out the boundaries between platonic and whatever the two of you were. when you’d met bash, he’d given you a quick wink and told you he’d heard all about you, but other than that, you were positive gilbert just wanted to stay friends. “he can’t love me,” you’d told the avonlea girls a few days prior. “the letters didn’t mean anything, he was just lonely.” but all of them agreed, even ruby- who had been zoning in on moody spurgeon ever since gilbert had left- that there was something more in his words, that it wasn’t all in your head.

and now it was christmas. gilbert, bash, and the shirley-cuthberts had all come for dinner (you’d grown close to anne the past year, and it had taken some convincing but since your father knew matthew so well, marilla had deemed it acceptable). the dinner had been lovely- your mother had brought out all the stops for gilbert and bash- roast goose, scalloped potatoes (island ones, of course), cranberry jelly, chicken pie, spiced gingerbread. flames crackled in the fireplace, biting gusts of wind rattled the windows, and blurred glittery ornaments adorned the pine tree in the center of your living room. dinner was over now, and the adults were gathered around the table and swapping stories of old. anne was there too, heavily engaged in a discussion with bash, but the social aspect was getting to be somewhat exhausting, so you quietly slipped out the back door to have a few moments alone.

in a rather unladylike fashion, you got up and sat on the fence by your house, snowflakes tickling your nose, watching the sun slowly begin to set. hues of pink and orange tinged the sky, and you were surprised you could even see it right now- the weather suggested a cloudy sky. the sound of snow crunching came from behind you, and to your surprise, gilbert was coming towards you. he had his brown cap and his red flannel on, and he looked so cozy that you somehow wished you were cuddled up in his arms. pushing the thought away, you greeted him as he came to sit on the fence beside you.

“enjoying the night so far?”

“quite,” gilbert replied. there was a sparkle in his eyes that danced, one that had been noticeably absent since his father died. you suspected it had something to do with bash’s uncle-like presence, and maybe anne’s too- it was well rumored that he’d fancied her for a while when they’d first met. gilbert looked off into the sunset, puffs of his breath materializing in the cold air, and you shivered involuntarily. he offered you his wool mittens wordlessly, and you gratefully put them on, although they were too big for you.

“oh,” you said, remembering something. he turned towards you, watching you intently as you pulled out a small package from your coat pocket. it was wrapped in festive paper, and you’d written his name on it in swooping calligraphy.

“for me?” gilbert asked. he carefully unfurled the wrapping paper to reveal a small leather bound book embossed with “the complete illustrated medical dictionary (pocket edition)” on the front. “i’ve had it since you left,” you said, breath catching in your throat. “i kept it for you. all this time.”

genuine joy shone in gilbert’s eyes. he flipped through the pages delightedly, marveling at the drawings inside. “thank you,” he grinned. “i actually have something for you too.”

breathlessly, you awaited your gift, snowflakes fluttering down and landing on you. they decorated your hair and its festive ribbon for one fleeting moment before melting, and you swore there was nothing as beautiful as this moment, exchanging gifts with gilbert in the snow, watching the sunset sweep across the dove-gray sky. finally, gilbert found what he was looking for in his pocket, and produced a tiny box.

“it doesn’t look like much,” he warned, “but i found it on my travels. i was waiting to give it to you. i wanted it to be the perfect moment.”

carefully opening the small box, you gasped as the lid revealed a necklace with a pendant. a small silver locket shaped like a heart, the kind one could put a photograph in. “gilbert,” you breathed. “this is- this is beautiful.”

and it was. the locket lay on a delicate chain, and it was engraved intricately, with elaborate designs. your mittened hands fumbled to take it out of the box and inspect it more, but gilbert took it from you with a small smile. “let me help you,” he murmured, and made to fasten it on you. you stood still, hyper aware of how close gilbert’s hands were to your face. his fingers brushed against the back of your neck, securing the necklace, and you caught yourself from flinching. you didn’t know what to say, except for thank you, so you repeated yourself again.

“a thing of beauty is a joy forever,” gilbert quoted, somewhat uncharacteristically. “keats,” he added after a moment, referencing the poet he’d read the phrase from. “i wanted you to have something to remember me by.”

“to remember you by?” you laughed. “what, are you going on the steamer again?”

he could tell the thought sobered you, so he shook his head, shrugging. “no. i just think…you’re a wonderful girl. the loveliest in avonlea.”

“i think you’re wonderful too,” you said shyly, which was about as many words as you could manage right now. the loveliest girl in avonlea? goodness.

the sun had almost set by now, and the sky was turning dark- a good cover for hiding the red tint spreading across your face. “we should go back inside,” you said hurriedly, and the two of you made your way over to the door. you stopped before opening it, basking in the glow of the oil lamp on the porch.

“gilbert, i-”

overcome by sudden anxiety, you handed back his warm mittens. “thank you,” you said, the words lingering on your tongue. “for everything.”

quickly, so fast you almost missed it, gilbert leaned down, brushed a stray wisp of hair away, and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. “merry christmas,” he said simply. and then, the two of you went back inside, as if nothing had happened at all.

as soon as you entered, bash noticed the locket and smirked. gilbert shot him a warning look, lest he say anything. the two of you immersed yourself in separate conversations- you with anne, him with marilla and your mother, while matthew silently observed your father and bash discuss politics. but you kept stealing glances at each other as if you were speaking a secret language that only the two of you knew, and each time it filled you with comfort.

it was a cold christmas, but you felt the warmest you had been in a while– and, as luck would have it, so did gilbert.

four. when you climbed a tree.

and so summer rolled around again, fading into august. university loomed on the horizon. childhood was over- gone were the days of butterflies, bumblebees, and scraped knees. yet you could pretend, and so you did.

the soft salt breeze tickled your face, sending a pleasant feeling down your spine. you were with gilbert- on his farm, in the orchard. it was just the two of you- most of avonlea were in charlottetown for the island county fair, granting you the opportunity to do whatever you wanted, since no one was around to see.

so you took advantage of that. no more were the stolen glances, the sneaking around, your only physical touch with gilbert being brushed hands- and even then you’d both deemed it risky. neither of you wanted word to get around yet. sure, there had been rumors and some of your best friends knew (only the ones you were sure wouldn’t spread anything around). but here, now, the world was your oyster. and the two of you soaked it up blissfully.

you were lying on the grass with your head in gilbert’s lap, weaving a flower crown as he read a book- an old poetry collection ms stacy had lent him. the clouds were glorious fluffy shapes in the blue sky, and you pointed them out to gilbert every once in a while. your fingers deftly twined the daisies and their stems, finally tying them all together in a knot, creating a perfect circlet, and setting it teasingly on gilbert’s dark hair.

he smirked, leaving it on. “made it for me?”

“a pretty crown for a pretty boy,” you replied, smiling from your position in his lap. he was solid, sturdy, his hand resting securely on your waist. you felt safe with your body close to his, arms and legs intertwined. and he was pretty- “the prettiest boy in avonlea,” you said, mimicking his words to you from last christmas. he laughed and set the book down, taking the flower crown off and resting it gently on your hair. “it suits you,” gilbert said softly, and he was right.

the two of you stayed like that for a while, absorbing each other’s presence. you charted the rare freckles scattered across the bridge of his nose as if they were constellations, tracing them with the tip of your finger. it tickled him, and he smiled down at you. he finally returned to his book- “i want to read you something”- and blissfully, you obliged, settling down to listen.

“i almost wish we were butterflies and lived but three summer days- three such days with you i could fill with more delight than fifty common years could ever contain,” gilbert read from the poetry collection in his lap, a break from the constant medical anatomy books he was usually seen carrying around. you recognized the fragment of poetry- “keats,” you said, “just like what you said to me last winter. when you gave me the necklace.”

a smile tugged at gilbert’s lips, and you pulled out the locket from under the neckline of your dress to show him. “i’ll never take it off,” you promised him, right then and there. “it’s like a little piece of you with me, all the time.”

“you better not,” he teased. “cost me a fortune, that one. even more than all of those romance books i’m always secretly buying you in town.”

you sat up and shoved him jokingly, tousling his dark curls to purposely peeve him. gilbert’s hair wasn’t tidy all that often, but he’d let it slip once that he always tried to make it look nice for you. struck by a sudden flash of inspiration, you jumped up. “let’s go pick some apples.”

the blythe orchard was infamous for their strawberry apples, the only place in avonlea where they were available. contrary to popular belief, this was simply a variant of apple, and not a strawberry hybrid. all too happy to appease you, gilbert took your hand and led you to the best tree on the land. most of the other boughs were still blooming with apple blossoms, but this tree was different.

he pointed to a low-hanging branch, one blessed with red fruit. “my father always picked the first apple on this tree in august,” he told you, tone contemplative and wistful. “he said this was the tree he kissed my mother under for the first time. he thought if the first apple of the season was picked here, at this tree, it brought the harvest luck.”

nostalgia flickered in gilbert’s eyes, and you knew he was missing his father more than usual. “let’s do it, then,” you said, finding your voice, fingers delicately intertwined with his- giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “we’ll each pick one. in honor of him. a new tradition.”

the words you’d spoken may have been simplistic, but to gilbert they meant the world. without his father, it had been so incredibly difficult at first to do anything- carry on old traditions, much less creating new ones. but here you were, by his side, looking up at him with adoring eyes, and giving him the opportunity to heal and grow. gilbert knew he could never put into words how much it truly meant to him.

you let him go first, watching him scamper up the tree like a squirrel. he seemed a boy again, plucking an apple from the highest bough and descending nimbly. when you started climbing, you found your footing easily, but doubt wracked your mind- imagine the horrors if mrs. lynde and her posse heard about this, climbing trees like a chimpanzee! - and so you opted for a lower branch, reaching it deftly. you reached for an apple and held it high victoriously. some hint of pride shone in gilbert’s eyes.

“to making new traditions,” he said- a toast with the notable absence of glasses brimming with champagne. “to making new traditions,” you repeated, and in that moment, you in the tree and him on the ground, you swore you could see hints of a future- one with new traditions and old traditions, little feet running around and everything in between. today was flawless.

and it would’ve been perfect, except for the sound of the branch cracking under your weight. you weren’t too high up in the tree, but inevitably, you landed on the ground, a crumpled heap of petticoats and ribbons, crying out softly upon impact.

you’d never seen gilbert this way, in ‘doctor mode’, simply put. he was immediately beside you, voice laced with concern, checking you over for scrapes and bruises. you were fine, mostly- just a little shaken up and scared, save for the red-hot throbbing in your wrist. the pain didn’t exactly warrant crying, but you weren’t used to the funny feeling, and tears welled in your waterline anyways. gilbert, telling you to take deep breaths, helped you sit up.

he’d noticed straightaway the way you held you wrist, cradling it slightly away from your body, and murmuring words of comfort, he started prodding your knuckles, gently examining the swollen area. you winced, but it wasn’t too bad. “i don’t think it’s broken,” gilbert said finally, deeming it a sprain after careful inspection. “but let’s get you back home. i have some bandages- i’ll wrap it just in case.”

tears threatened to spill over again as the two of you walked from the orchard to his home. gilbert noticed, and stopped. “hey,” he said softly. “it’s okay. i’ll make you some herbal tea. that should help with the pain a bit.”

“it’s not that,” you made out, a small pout forming on your lips. “we were having such a wonderful day, gil, and i ruined it all. i’m sorry.”

“whoa, whoa, whoa,” he said, his brow furrowing. “you didn’t ruin anything. you got hurt, it happens. and we have the rest of the afternoon to be together- i’ll tell you what, how about once we get back to the farmhouse, we’ll make the most of it, okay? we can still have some fun.”

a wobbly smile formed on your lips, and you nodded. gilbert cupped your face gently, and looked into your eyes. “i love you,” he said, voice nervous but firm. “just let me take care of you.”

your heart caught in your throat. he’d never said that before. contrary to the rumors, he hadn’t even kissed you properly yet. “i love you too,” you whispered, voice hoarse. and before you could think about it too much, you went up on your tiptoes and pressed a small kiss to gilbert’s lips.

they were soft and sweet and filled with promise and hope, and he leaned into it, your bodies closer than they’d ever been. his hands ghosted the small of your back, your hips, your shoulders, and it felt like home. when you finally pulled apart, there was a twinkle in his eye you’d never seen before. a twinkle of something called joy.

when you got back to the farmhouse, he finally settled you on the couch, comfortably sipping a cup of tea and trying wholeheartedly to braid your hair. he’d always wanted to learn, and since you were currently unable to do it yourself, he deemed it the perfect opportunity. it made you laugh- his fingers, usually nimble and clever, were clumsy in your locks, and the braid you ended up with was slightly sloppy, but filled with adoration. a realization fluttered through your mind, and set its claws into your future. you loved gilbert- gilbert loved you- and though you wouldn’t say it out loud, at least not for several years, he would make a wonderful husband.

five. when you said “i do”.

the spring skies were blue today- flowers were blooming- grass was green. “a lovely day for a wedding,” mrs. lynde had told marilla that morning, and all of avonlea agreed.

you were walking down the aisle in a few minutes, getting ready in reverence. a delicate white veil lay on your hair, the one passed down through your family for almost a century. the lace dress fit you perfectly, intricate embroidery accentuating your waist. your mother’s simple pearl earrings adorned your ears, glowing in the morning light. in your hands were a bouquet- a single spray of forget-me-nots, periwinkle blue, an ode to gilbert’s father, who had loved them so. and at the same time, a tribute to your past together, that awful rainy day after the funeral filled with grief and tears and emotion, yet what had brought you closer together. something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue. all was well. you were ready.

the springtime realm of gilbert’s yard was immersed in devotion. petals decorated the grass down the aisle. your dearest friends and family observed, and the wedding itself passed in the blink of an eye. there was not a dry eye during the vows, and gilbert’s words were even more poetic than you had ever hoped. he promised to love you- to care for you- in sickness and in health, to be your rock. it was not the fanciest wedding- there were no messes of tulle and satin and roses- but it was yours, and you couldn’t be happier.

you were husband and wife. the dawn had come anew. and that night, when gilbert fell asleep watching you breathe, finding solace in the rise and fall of your chest, he knew without a doubt that he would do it all over again.

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cartoon-brainrot · 23 days

Text

I posted these on Twitter one by one, but I was waiting to have the full collection to post them here!

I saw a lot of people draw the MLP as trolls, so I wanted to give it my own spin!

You’ll notice I didn’t just slot them in the main 6 genres, mostly because I just tried to find the genre that would fit them the most! As much as I love funk fluttershy or rarity, I don’t think their music style fits them <3

Fluttershy was the first one! I went with Classical-Metal, (although I debated for folk for quite some time) mostly because I thought that would suit her the most- and because she’s a metalhead in EG! Her hairstyle is taken from one of the outfits she used when she models for photo finish!

PinkiePie was so obviously Hyperpop I didn’t even think about it twice! The music, the colours, the style, the excessive accessories- it all fits her so well!

Applejack is country, I couldn’t take that from her. Just pure old country! I had some trouble with her hair, cause I wanted it to be big and poofy like Delta or Holly’s, but the first sketches weren’t quite right. I changed it at the last minute and I’m glad I did, because now I absolutely love it! And yes, her hat is more like a hairband, it’s missing the top- that’s where she slides the ponytail into!

Twilight was classical- I had no doubts from that, but I thought being a mix between techno and classical would fit her very well! I gave her a sort of gown-like tailfin, and her wings also work as extra fins! All in all, I wanted her to look like a mix between an angel and a jellyfish! Her hair is lighter because it!s always subtly glowing- and also because dark hair wouldn’t work for either classical (who have cotton candy shades) and techno (whose hair is always glowing)

Rarity is still a debate between Classical-Pop and Swing! I thought classical pop was great for her, especially because of her songs, but swing was SUCH a good style and genre for her! A lot of her outfits always have that vintage vibe, and her hairstyle reminded me of the headdresses they used in the 20s-30s!

Rainbowdash is PopRock, obviously. She has goggles for when she flies and her earrings are clear! The pop trolls are all brightly coloured so I kept the rainbow hair instead of using less colours, but I dimmed them so that she would blend in better with the rock theme!

And yes, all 6 of them have their elements on them! It’s just that they’re not all visible!

Twilight has it on her chest, Applejack and Rainbowdash have them on their belts! Pinkie pie has it on a hairclip, Rarity has it on a pin on her dress and fluttershy has it on her back!

#my art #my little pony #trolls art #trolls fanart #trolls au #trolls world tour #trolls #rainbow dash #twilight sparkle #rarity #applejack #fluttershy #pinkie pie #mane 6 #mane 6 redesign

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81folklore · 7 months

Text

lover - MS47

pairings: mick schumacher x wordle!reader (fc: savannah delullo + pintrest)

summary: micks girlfriend always relates everything in her life to the three things she loves most; taylor swift, wordle and her boyfriend

authors note: this is probably one of the most niche things ive ever made but i absolutely love sav and her wordle content and i also love mick so why not put those together?? i dont even know how i thought of this but here it is😭

authors note 2: doesnt have all the pictures i wanted, but i needed this to be one part so i had to shorten it a bit. i ended up mainly using pintrest photos, but that was only because the sav photos i planned to use ended up being in posts i couldnt make due to the 30 picture limit. i actually think this is my favorite smau ive done so i hope you enjoy

masterlist

yourusername

liked by mickschumacher, jackdoohan and 12,728 others

and everytime i look at you, its like the first time

view comments

user11: beach being the wordle today was perfect pinned

yourusername: can confirm i was very happy

mickschumacher: good pictures...must be a pretty cool photographer😂

yourusername: ehh took some practice but he learnt from the best!😉

user82: you guys are so cute

user9: micks looking more and more like his dad everyday :')

user4: im so obessed with your tiktoks

user49: favorite wordle player

yourusername

liked by mickschumacher, estebanocon and 14,287

you got that long hair, slicked back, white tshirt, and i got that good girl faith and a tight little skirt

view comments

user55: officially my favorite couple

user20: dont know who i want to be more

user32: so so cute

mickschumacher: 💚💚💚

user2: i love that she always includes that days wordles in her posts

user72: and if she can, she will relate it to a taylor lyric and make that her caption

user60: and she always tries to match the pictures to the word

user46: are those his dads glasses☹️

yourusername

liked by carla.brocker, mickschumacher and 26,109 others

youre a flashback in a film reel on the one screen in my town🎞️

view comments

user8: micks smile AHHHHH

user92: im so obsessed with this post

user902: he looks SO GOOD

user65: i cant bresthe omg

mickschumacher: my favourite photographer

yourusername: my favourite muse

user7: I LOVE THEM SO MUCH

user51: no bcs you just dont understand

yourusername

liked by mickschumacher, jackdoohan and 31,273 others

✨i can still make the whole place shimmer✨

HOLY WHAT IS MY LIFE??? so much happened within the span of a night and im in shock. first, TAYLOR SWIFT?? next SWIFT WORDLE ANSWER?? ON THE DAY OF MY CONCERT?? then I GOT THE 22 HAT?? EXACTLY 10 YEARS AFTER THE LAST PICTURE TOOK PLACE?? also lets all appreciate how good both taylor and mick look!!!!

view comments

user4: YOU GOT THE HAT? IM SO HAPPY FOR YOU

user6: you deserve the hat so much!!

user67: what was your reaction to the wordle?

yourusername: i actually did it in the stadium while waiting for taylor, i started freaking out i was so happy😭

user13: love your outifts! did you make both of them?

yourusername: i made micks and he made mine☺️

yourfriend2: im glad you both had fun

yourusername: mwah 💋

mickschumacher: thank you for choosing me to go with you

yourusername: why wouldnt i take my favorite person to see my other favorite person??

mickschumacher: love you

yourusername: love you🩵

user5: the IT couple

user85: i love seeing mick getting involved with her interests :(

yourusername

liked by mickschumacher, georgerussell63 and 40,812 others

we could let our friends crash in the living room

tagged mickschumacher, lewishamilton, estebanocon, lance_stroll, sebastianvettel, georgerussell63+

view comments

user56: oh my god oh my god

user52: theyre literally living taylor swift lyrics

user75: i cant cope

user79: THEY HAD A SLEEPOVER?? WITH THEIR GRID FRIENDS??

user20: seb definitly spun the wheel in twister

user59: definitly had a drink with him aswell😭

lewishamilton: thanks for having us💜

yourusername: always welcome with us lewis🩵

mickschumacher: can i go where you go?

yourusername: can we always be this closee?

yourusername

liked by mickschumacher, lewishamilton and 29,819 others

and at every table, ill save you a seat, lover...

m, you mean more to me than i will ever be able to put into words. the love i feel for you is something so special it feels wrong to just say 'i love you', it doesnt do it justice. you are my entire being and nothing i say or do will even amount to the way you make me feel

3 years ago, forever felt scary, forever felt terrifying, but how can forever be enough now? how will i ever have enough time with you? how will i ever have enough time to love you?

i would say 'take me out and take me home' but no matter where you take me i will always be home if im with you🏠

tagged mickschumacher

comments on this post have been limited

mickschumacher: my favorite person

yourusername: 🫶🫶

mickschumacher: my one and only

yourusername: my lifeline

mickschumacher: forever with you sounds perfect

#f1 x reader #f1 instagram au #f1 smau #f1 social media au #social media au #formula 1 insta au #formula 1 social media au #mick schumacher x reader #mick schumacher #mick schumacher imagine

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archangeldyke-all · 10 days

Note

Omg I loved the cellmate reader! But imagine if reader broke Sevika outta jail. Like she’s all cool about and when she walks up to Sevikas cell she’s got her hair up in her hat and sevika can’t see who she is until she tilts her head up grinning at her wife.

Sevika is so shocked to see her housewife breaking her outta jail like. The whole way back to Zain Sevika can’t keep her hands to herself, thanking her wife over and over and saying how much she’s gonna reward her for saving her *wink wink*

LOVE

men and minors dni

"this just feels wrong." you mutter as you check yourself out in the mirror. ran chuckles beside you, tugging their skirt farther down their waist.

"fuckin' tell me about it." they grumble.

they look ridiculous. their bangs are pinned back, their eyes have been washed clean of eyeliner-- they really do look like a cop. "the things i do for her." you grumble. ran giggles again.

"wasn't this in your vows? 'for better or worse, in sickness and health, i vow to love you and break you outta prison if you need?'" they tease. you giggle.

"close enough."

you're both dressed as enforcers-- the uniforms are authentic-- stolen from some dead cops.

four years after you first landed yourself in stillwater-- you're going back. this time, you aren't a prisioner, though. and, despite your current outfit, you haven't gotten a new job as a prison guard.

you're going back for sevika.

she took the charges for silco when he got caught up in piltover, and as a result, she's currently in maximum security.

it's been four months since you've seen your wife. and despite the fact that you keep your nose strictly out of silco and sevika's business-- these past four months you've been at the last drop every single night, studying stillwater blue prints and plotting with ran and silco and lock.

it all passes in a blur for you. you're so nervous, and so excited to see your girl, that you don't register much as you make your way to stillwater.

ran does most of the talking. there's not much talking to be done-- the uniforms and badges you're wearing get you in the gates surprisingly easily-- but you're too jittery to do much more than stutter. so ran does most the talking.

you keep your hand on the switchblade tucked into the waist of your enforcer skirt. sevika gifted it to you on your first real date, and she's been teaching you how to defend yourself with it ever since. you've never had to use it, mostly because everyone in the undercity knows you're sevika's, but you won't hesitate to use it now to get to her.

the familiar atmosphere of the prison is comforting, in a strange way. it's where you met sevika, where you got to know her, where you both fell for one another.

and now it's where you're going to reunite again.

the deeper underground you get, the fewer prisoners and the more guards there are. you're starting to get antsy. ran elbows you.

"relax." they grumble. you gulp.

"don't tell me to relax, it' been four fucking months since--"

"oh my god, i know." ran groans. you sigh.

"sorry. i miss her." you mumble. ran chuckles.

"not as much as she misses you." they say. you huff a bit.

despite the rough start to you and ran's friendship-- with you stabbing them the last time they were breaking sevika out of prison-- they've become a good friend of yours. especially since they're the one who's always helping you get sevika out of trouble.

they're also the one who agreed to let you come along tonight. it was meant to be ran and lock, with you as the getaway driver, but you begged to go in. you want to see her as soon as you fucking can.

and then: ran pulls you to a stop.

"prisoner." they mumble, a smile in their voice as they tap their metal fingers against the bars of a cell. your stomach bursts into butterflies when you see the signature flicker of sevika's lighter in the dark cell. you can see her smirk in the brief light, and you nearly burst into tears.

the ring of keys on ran's hip jingles as they pull them off and unlock sevika's cell. you don't hesitate to slam the door open and start sprinting into the cell.

it's the wrong move. sevika's expecting ran and lock, not ran and you: and in the dark, she assumes you're lunging at her to attack her. "wait!" ran calls after you, too late.

a crack rings out in the cell, followed by a groan: sevika socked you right in the nose. "ffffffuck, babe!" you whine, grabbing your nose.

sevika gasps in the dark. then, strong arms are hugging you and you're being pushed out into the hallway-- into the light.

"what the fuck are you doing here?!" sevika cries.

"i--" she doesn't let you answer, shoving her mouth against yours as she backs you up against the concrete wall oppisite her cell.

you moan into her mouth, your nose throbbing in pain, your cunt throbbing in arousal.

her hands trail down to your ass, then sneak up your skirt to start palming your cunt. you whimper, and she growls.

ran clears their throat.

you pull your mouth away from sevika with a gasp, but she doesn't seem to have heard ran-- her mouth ducking down to start sucking hickeys on your neck. she starts grinding the palm of her hand against your wet cunt, and you gasp-- pulling her hair hard. sevika mewls.

"janna, i shoulda brought a spray bottle." ran mumbles.

"s-sev, baby, we gotta go." you whisper, your voice shaking when she sinks her teeth into your neck. she licks the indents her teeth left behind, then stands to her full height, removes her hands from your skirt.

you cuff her wrists, then hook your arm around her elbow, guiding her down the hall as ran leads the two of you.

you've got five minutes before the real guards do their rounds and stillwater goes on lockdown when they realize sevika's missing.

ran's the only one who seems to care about this time crunch. sevika keeps shoving you against walls, grabbing your tits biting your lips, fighting against her handcuffs as she tries to grip your hips.

you let her, each and every time.

a guard stops the three of you. "fuck happened to you?" he asks you, looking you over.

your skirt's rumpled, your shirt's untucked and unbuttoned, and your enforcer hat's been knocked off and lost. all sevika's doing.

you cringe, suddenly nervous. ran just scoffs as the cut in to cover for you.

"the prisoner here got the jump on this rookie." ran explains. "broke the poor kid's nose." they gesture to your bleeding nose. you nod.

"fuckin' asshole." you mumble, trying to hold your smile back as you nudge sevika like you're angry.

she stumbles and giggles. it comes off as a defiant laugh in the face of authority to the guard. to you, you know she's fucking giddy.

he waves the three of you along.

the second you're in the van with sevika, she's on you.

lock starts the car and starts driving off, ran in the passenger seat laughing in glee at once again flawlessly slipping through stillwater's 'impenetrable' security system, and sevika throws herself at you in the back before you can even unlock her cuffs.

"sev!" you laugh. she's practically dry humping you, kissing any part of you she can reach. she hums.

"fuck-- you're the hottest enforcer i've ever seen." she mumbles. "i'm so fuckin' sorry about your nose, baby--" you cut her off by pressing your mouth against hers again.

"no fucking in the van." lock says.

you flip him off, before fumbling for the key to sevika's handcuffs.

the second one of her hands is free, she doesn't bother letting you free the other. she just lets the cuffs dangle off her mech wrist like a tacky bracelet, as she wraps her arms around you pulling you impossibly closer to her.

"i missed you so fucking much." you whimper, on the verge of tears.

sevika smells like shit. she probably hasn't showered in a week. in solitary, you don't even get a mattress-- just two blankets to lay on the ground. she's sore and grimy and she's been sitting in a dark room for weeks on end-- you planned for your first time together again to be after soaking her in a long, fragrant bath, given her at least an hour long massage, and gotten her in your freshly made bed.

it seems like that might have to be your second time.

sevika's between your legs-- both of which are hooked over her waist-- your skirt is around your waist and your hands are tugging her pants down as she grinds pathetic circles against your cunt.

"oh, fuck, i missed you too." she whines. "i love you so fuckin' much, i'm gonna put a fuckin baby in you, i missed your cunt so mu--"

"woah!" ran cries. "please! we're two minutes away from the last dro--"

"take me home." sevika growls.

ran scoffs-- "sevika, silco wants to see--"

"i'll see 'im tomorrow. or he can come over in a few hours. take me the fuck home." she demands. you giggle, using her distraction to uncuff her other wrist.

she smiles down at you when lock starts the van in the direction of your shared home.

the two of you stumble out in front of your home a minute later, lock screaming something about silco coming over in a bit behind the two of you.

neither of you notice.

you stumble into your home, attached at the lips. sevika's hands are flying up and down your body, groping your ass, thighs, hips, tits, all in quick succession. she growls as you guide her to the bedroom. "been thinkin' about you every fuckin' second since they locked me up." she mumbles. you whimper. "prison's no fun without you there."

you chuckle against her lips, stripping her of her prison uniform. you're gonna burn the clothes the second you're done with her.

you push her down-- she spreads out starfished and naked on the bed, groaning as she relaxes against the mattress.

"fuck." she moans.

you smile down at her, straddling her waist and stroking her cheek. she nuzzles against your palm.

"i missed you so much." you whisper. "i love you so much. you're the most precious thing in the world, baby."

sevika whimpers, and then, before you know what's happening, she's flipping you and pinning you beneath her.

she starts grinding against you again, but this time, both of you are naked. you groan as your cunts slide together and sevika whimpers, burying her face in your neck as she cries and fucks you.

you don't mention the tears soaking your neck. you just wrap yourself around your wife, pressing kisses anywhere you can reach as she fucks you.

"you're okay baby." you whisper, scratching against her scalp. "you're okay. 'm right here, 'm not goin' anywhere. i'll always come 'n find you sev, y' can't get rid of me that easy." you promise her.

she whimpers. "'m gonna cum."

you shiver at her words-- fuck you've missed her.

"fuck, fuck, please, sev, please, i've missed you, i've missed you, honey." you whisper. "i wanna make you feel good-- wanna make you cum-- you waited so fuckin' long all alone and--"

"but you're here now." she whispers. you moan, cumming at the reminder, and the sight of it pushes her over the edge. "baby fuck!" she cries, burying her face against your neck as she cums.

you're both shaking and crying, panting for air, soaked in sweat and cum, and laughing.

"shit." sevika sighs, nuzzling against you. you hum. "think i jerked off, like, a billion times imagining that." she mumbles. you burst into laughter. "nowhere near as good as the real fuckin' thing though." she sighs.

you kiss the goofy smile off her face. "wish i coulda snuck you some nudies or somethin'." you mumble. she snorts.

"nearly came in my pants when i realized it was you showin' off your legs in that slutty uniform."

"after you nearly shit in your pants when you realized it was me you just punched?" you ask. sevika giggles, gently kissing your swollen nose.

"simultaneously, actually. weirdest sensation of my life." she jokes. you burst into laughter.

"i love you!" you giggle. she smiles.

"i love you too."

"if you get off of me i'll draw you a bath." you offer.

"do i smell that bad?"

"yes."

she bites your shoulder and you squeak. "will you join me?"

"yes." you say.

you can feel her smile against your shoulder.

"i'm gonna marry you all over again." she mumbles.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @love-sugarr @chuucanchuucan @222danielaa @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @vikasub

#sevika #sevika imagine #sevika arcane #sevika x reader #sevika x you #soft sevika #sevika smut

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snippychicke · 7 months

Text

Kinktober Week Two--Buggy

Also, this week, it seems like I'm abusing the poor snails of the OP universe.

Prompt: On Camera

Warnings: its sexually explicit? Dirty talk of alternate uses of Chop Chop Abilities. Also, the poor cam-snail.

So, you took a few pictures. Not in the nude (not used to having a camsnail or using for such reasons), but in your underwear and Captain's Buggy's hat while sitting in his chair in what you thought were seductive poses. Then left the pictures as well as his hat back in his quarters.

Initially, it was just a little prank. You had happened upon a cam-snail with an attached printer, and had been feeling both mischievous as well as horny.

You knew he found them later in the day when all the sudden there was a disembodied hand wrapped up in your hair and roughly guiding you down to his quarters. There was a mix of anger and lust in his eyes, yet no words were spoken before he pinned you to the closed door, tearing at your clothes as he hungerily kissed you.

It was a promising sucess. One you repeated again and again, each one more risque than the next. Each one with simillar outcomes--Buggy finding you and dragging you to some semi-private area to fuck your brains out.

"Look at this." His hand slapped down the picture on the desk you were currently bent over. The latest one; where you were sitting with your legs spread on his chair, fingers teasing your cunt as his captain's coat sat on your shoulders. (Finding pieces of his outfit to wear could be tricky at times. Other times they were left right in plain sight as if it was an invitation.) "How the fuck am I supposed to get anything done after I found this in my pocket?"

Words were impossible between his cock in you cunt and his other hand pulling your hair. From across the table, Buggy was eagerly eating up the scene, biting his lip as his eyes watched you with hunger.

"Maybe I should confiscate that cam snail of yours. Start taking pictures of you like this," he continued, and you felt him quicken his pace inside you, fucking you both faster and harder. "Fuck you make such a pretty picture like this. Or maybe on your knees with my cock down your throat. Or your legs spread wide and my fingers in your sopping cunt."

"Please," you managed to gasp out. "Please cap'n."

His smile widened as he reattached one hand to cup your face. "That's my good girl. My own pin-up slut. Just for your captain, right?"

You nodded your head, opening your mouth as he slipped his thumb between your lips. "We're going to have so much fun."

#opla buggy #buggy the clown x reader #buggy x reader #op buggy #captain buggy #buggy the clown #buggy one piece #kinktober

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ch3rriiii-bunn · 1 year

Text

How good are they at doing hair?

Got excited to make this one♡♡♡

Warnings: black reader (will mention different hair textures/styles), humor

Akaza

- is decent with doing hair since in his human life he had experience to comb out hair and put it up in a bun (even tho he dosnt remember who he did it for). Doing your 4c hair wasn't too much a challenge when he just followed what you said to do

- you'd have to remind akaza that it doesn't hurt everytime he combs your hair out. He thinks because he's pulling your hair hard it's gonna hurt you and it was sweet but funny

- "can I twist your hair again? It's quick and easy. it also looks good on you" and "can I take them out for you the next day?"

- twists on you is akazas favorite thing on you and he enjoys doing it

- praises praises, so much praising from akaza when your hair is done

- he threatened a male human to make a bonnet just for you and brought it to you as a gift, blushing like crazy

Douma

- pretty good at it and enjoys doing your hair

- he had to learn over time that he needed to ask before touching your hair and not just play with your curls at random

- douma's favorite thing was wash days. He'd literally get in the shower with you to wash your hair, his favorite part was brushing your wet hair and watching your curls spring back up

- when you explained to douma what a Bonnet was and how you needed one he crafted random hats until he got it right and gave it to you as a gift

- "no y/n don't put your hair in a bun! I love seeing your hair out" and "I'm bored. Can I play with your curls? Pretty please!"

- gets sad when you don't do your hair without him

Kokushibo

- thinks he's good at doing your hair but is actually not

- you'd think kokushibo doesn't pay attention to you when your doing your hair but he actually is

- kokushibo rarely expresses his like for something but whenever your looking at yourself in the mirror he'll stare at you in aw even tho it looks creepy

- "it's quite... beautiful" and "i love it"

- when kokushibo held a afro pick in his hand for the frist time he started using it like a regular comb. Even when you showed him how to use it he kept doing it the same way but in different angles thinking he's doing it right

- as for a bonnet he though putting silk pillowcase would be better for you and less trouble of you did have a bonnet and happen to lose it

Tamayo

- a perfectionist at doing your hair

- definitely the best demon to do your hair, like look at hers!

- Tamayo loves to do flat twists on your hair and put it in a bun at the back just like hers

- "y/n it's time for me to do your hair" and "look, i brought another hair pin to use. I think it would look lovely on you"

- like douma tamayo would feel down if you did your hair instead of her. In general your someone tamayo likes to look after

- Tamayo makes your bonnets, head wraps and any moisturizer your hair would need

Nakime

- not very good but is open to try

- you're the one actually doing nakimes hair all the time by brushing it out and styling it the way she likes it

- nakime would sit down and watch you take sections of your hair and brushing it out using the moisturizer from the aloe plant

- your afro is big and thick. Enough to cover your eyes similar to nakime which is what her more motivated to help you do your hair

- "like this? I need to hear your corrections on what I have to do y/n" and "we both have our hair covering out eyes... Interesting"

- even though nakime is emotionless around the other demons she's shown to be affectionate with you since she manged to get matching bonnets with you

Sekido

- his hair is wavy, your hair is wavy of course he's good but you'd have to beg him to do your hair of you were tired

- absolutely hates when you move your head when he's brushing your hair. If you complained about your tender scalp he'll literally call you names

- "you should be greatul I'm taking time out my day to do this. Say thank you" and "if you keep moving and changing your mind on a hair style I'm going to cut your hair off"

- gets you a bonnet to match the clothes you wear at night. Anything for his precious human even tho he won't tell you that

Aizetsu

- decent at doing your hair but will get sad if he can't help you since you had tighter curls (4b)

- normal black girl things is when your hair just isn't working with you those days so when that day came and you were frustrated Aizetsu offered to help but the brush snapped leaving you in tears and Aizetsu began to cry to because your upset and he felt bad

- you're the one who gets it together and calms the both of you down so when wash your hair Aizetsu puts it up in two buns

"Its like im doing a dolls hair. A pretty doll" And would just have a soft smile on his face which is a rare site to see

- as for a bonnet he went to one of his brothers to get you one since interacting with other humans ment killing right after and he just wasn't in the mood to do so

Karaku

- do not let this man near your hair

- he got a comb stuck in your hair one time and he laughed at you slugging to get it out for 20 minutes. He even tempted you to just cut it out but you got the comb out, the crazy part is you just asked him to make a part on the back of your head

- "y/n do those mini buns again! It looks super cute on you (bantu knots)" and "you can get stuff stuck in my hair and I can try to take it out ahah!"

- That's supposed "bonnet" Karaku brought back for u was just a shower cap. A win is a win

Urogi

- a bully. Like Karaku do not let this man near your locs

- almost gave you a heart attack when you were retwisting your locs and he said he'd pull one out but didn't, laughing crazy at the fear on your face

- "you're taking to longggg C'mon take a break from retwisting and have some fun with me!" And "you're locs are gorgeous on you"

- when he heard "protect your hair" because you needed a bonnet he used some of his feathers that came off easily to make a hat instead of a bonnet. It was a long argument that night leading you to get your own bonnet

Muzan

- Doesn't do your hair. He could but just doesn't

- tells you where to get the stuff you need for your hair because he won't get it

- "you're hair in corn rows is beautiful on you. Wear your hair like that for the next upper moon meeting"

- like kokushibo he just has all your pillows have silk pillowcase on them

- when muzan is in a good mood, he'll bring back accessories to put in your hair

#demon slayer fluff #kny fluff #muzan x reader #akaza x reader #kokushibo x reader #douma x reader #nakime x reader #tamayo x reader #sekido x reader #aizetsu x reader #karaku x reader #urogi x reader #kny x black reader #black reader

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bby-deerling · 5 months

Note

Who is it with either Law of Kidd please! Congrats on the milestone!

this might be the most filthy, nasty, and dirty thing i've ever written, i hope it's your cup of tea! it's also my first time writing for kid!!

kid + who is it (afab!fem!reader nsfw)

18+, mdni, nsfw wc: 1.7k masterlist

cw: jealousy, possessive behavior, super toxic relationship (reader is bad but kid is worse), breathplay, choking, handcuffs, inappropriate use of kids metal fingers, hair pulling, spanking, impact play, degradation, cheating, hole stretching, orgasm denial, creampies, slight breeding kink stuff if you squint ig, kid is a mean, nasty menace in this read at your own risk.

“I thought I told you to stop getting close with the enemy.” Kid says, roughly grabbing you by the back of the collar and pulling you away from your card game with Penguin and Shachi, leaving them confused and disappointed. Had you been flirting with the pair in hopes of going home with a bit more than just their money? Maybe—but that still didn’t give Kid the right to interrupt.

Annoyed, you take a deep breath, trying to not lose your composure in public; he had yanked you off to the side of the Victoria Punk, but you were still very much visible to any potential nosy onlookers. “Last time I checked, we’re still in an alliance.” you bite back, turning to face him and crossing your arms.

“Last time I checked, you were still my woman.” he growls, shoving the index finger of his metal hand into your chest, pinning you against the wooden side of the ship.

“Since when, Kid? You just play around with me when you’re bored and forget about me when you’re tired of me.” you say, tired of being on the losing end of a double standard—he’s been far from loyal to you, but the second your eyes start to wander, it’s the end of the world to him.

“Quit deflecting, I’m giving you an order right now.” he says dismissively, attempting to pull rank over you to shut you up.

Not wanting to relent, you continue, raising your voice. “Why the hell do you even care what I do? How many times am I going to have to watch you go to bed with someone else while I sit around and wait for you to remember I exist?”

“So now I have to come to bed with you every night just to keep your needy ass from whoring around? Sounds like too much work.” he snarls, venom on his tongue.

“What the hell do you even want from me then, Kid?” you cry out, hands tugging at your hair in frustration.

“I want you to keep your ass over here and stop trying to fuck the losers in the animal hats!” he yells, so angry a few drops of his spit scatter across your face in the process.

“Why?” you shout, becoming increasingly more enraged at his mixed signals. “So you can use me for the night and toss me aside tomorrow? I don’t think so. Maybe Trafalgar Law could show me a good time, he probably wouldn’t discard me afterwards like a—"

Your words are cut short by the cold, soulless grip of metal fingers surrounding your throat, pressing into the sides of your airway. “Like what? Like a whore? He wouldn’t touch you with a ten-foot pole.” he sneers, voice dangerously low.

“What’s that say about you, then?” you shoot back, unwilling to back down, even when backed against the wall and with your life hanging in the balance between a few of his fingers. “You want to fuck me so bad it makes you look stupid.”

Kid’s chest rumbles as he laughs and his grasp on your throat tightens, making you squeak in shock. “You’re gonna regret running your mouth like that.” he says, wicked grin on his face as he lets go of your neck and unceremoniously throws you over his shoulder. Storming onto the ship, he makes a beeline for his room and tosses you down on the bed; you move to sit up, but his metal hand presses into your stomach and keeps you in place. Looming over top of you, he regards you with a look somewhere between distaste and anger as he leans over and pulls a pair of handcuffs from the nightstand. Flipping you over and pinning you to the mattress with his hand to your lower back, he roughly yanks your arms behind you and clicks the cuffs into place.

“If you’re gonna act like a dirty whore, I’m gonna fuck you like one.” he growls in your ear. The sound of fabric ripping meets your ears, and you silently bury your face further into the mattress, not willing to show him how excited you were to see him wanting and wholly interested in you for a change; however, it was impossible to hide the glistening arousal already coating your pussy as he spreads your ass cheeks to get a decent view of you.

He makes you yelp as his good hand strikes your ass hard and laughs cruelly as he smooths the point of impact by kneading the soft, pillowy skin. “Fighting with me really gets you excited, huh?” he chuckles, letting his fingers teasingly slide between your folds.

“You wish.” you bite back, despite being in no position to do so, and wince as he smacks your ass again, this time with his metal hand. He makes no attempts to soothe the pain this time, letting it linger as little volts of electricity run along the impact point.

“Really?” he says, voice dripping with smugness, “What’s this then?” he asks, grabbing a fistful of hair and pulling your head up before shoving his soaked fingers in your mouth. He inhales sharply as your tongue swirls around them, sucking on them lewdly.

Focused on his fingers, you’re caught off guard when one of his cold, massive, metal fingers pushes deep inside you with no warning. “Mmmf, Kid!” you cry out; his only response is to pump his finger harder and faster, making you moan and squeal for him. Each time his digit slips in and out of you it gets increasingly warmer as your needing, aching pussy warms the metal, and eventually, the unfamiliar chills subside.

And then he adds another.

Wrists rattling against the handcuffs surrounding them, he has you writhing like a bitch in heat, completely succumbing to his whims and desperately waiting for what he had in store for you next. Your whines and whimpers are muffled by his fingers, still shoved in your mouth, until he hooks them in the corner of your mouth, keeping you open and unable to hide your cries from him.

“Slut.” he spits out teasingly, “Those two wimps wouldn’t be able to handle you, you’re too fucking dirty for them.” He withdraws his metal fingers from you, chuckling at your whine of frustration before shoving his cock inside you, slipping past your wet folds in one fluid motion.

“Quit squirming and let me fuck you good.” he warns, placing his metal hand on your back to pin your hips in place, two of his fingers still damp with your arousal.

You try to respond, but the punishing way he buries his dick inside of you leaves you unable to do anything except mewl and cry out for him. His pace is brutal as he fucks you hard and raw, and you’re whining and pleading nonsense to him as his hand rubs harsh circles into your clit. Legs beginning to shake, you let him know you’re close, but it only prompts him to remove his hand from your aching bud.

“Kid, please!” you whine, hips grinding against nothing, mourning the absence of his touch.

The dark, wicked laugh he lets out clues you in that he has far more twisted plans for you. “Careful what you wish for.” he teases, slipping two fingers in your dripping hole alongside his cock. His cock was already girthy, and the addition of his fingers has you stuffed to the point of tears, unable to do anything but babble nonsense as he continues to fuck you brutally. The mismatched, uncoordinated rhythm between his hand and dick is beyond overstimulating and has you gasping and drooling all over the dirty sheets beneath you.

“That’s right. Come all over my dick, stretched out like a little whore.” he growls as he curls his fingers against your sweet spot; the low, husky rumble of his voice is enough to push you over the edge. Head buzzing as you see stars, your walls spasm around him so hard that his fingers slip out. Swearing under his breath, his thrusts get sloppy and deeper as you milk his cock for all its worth.

“Say my name.” he rasps, “Tell me who this fucking pussy belongs to.” His metal hand strikes your ass, eliciting something between a scream and a moan from you before his name falls off your lips.

“Kid, it’s all yours, Kid—” you choke out as he pulls at your hair, cock slamming into you at a brutal pace.

Somehow, it’s still not enough for you.

“F-fuck, fuck me harder, Kid.” you whimper. He lets out a sinful growl in response and presses the back of your neck hard into the mattress as his thrusts pick up speed, his head bruising your cervix with each pass. Riding the line between pain and pleasure, your head goes dizzy as he digs his nails into your hips and you bite at the blankets below you.

A flurry of curses and grunts leave his lips as his hips stutter against yours and he cums inside you, thick white ropes shooting straight into your womb as he fills you up. He’s left you too much of a mess to move and he knows it as he slowly starts to pull out of you, giving you one last deep thrust to make you cry out before withdrawing from you.

Too lazy to search for the key, he crushes the handcuffs around your wrist to bits with his metal hand, lazily wiping the debris off the side of the bed before climbing in and pulling you close.

“You gonna quit hanging around them now?” he says, phrasing it more as a demand than a question.

“I don’t know, are you gonna quit cheating on me?” you snap back, with less venom than before, exhausted and craving sleep far more than another fight.

“Fine. Didn’t realize it was hurting you so much.” he says, leaving you flabbergasted at the audacity of his statement, but you were too tired to respond with anything but a sigh.

“Promise?” you ask—this time you’re the one demanding, eyes narrowed towards him.

“I swear on my good arm, I won’t step out again.” he says, offering you his hand to shake.

You take it firmly, making him smirk in response. “Deal. Pleasure doing business with you.” you say teasingly; keeping a grasp on his hand, you roll over and pull his arm around you, content to fall asleep smothered in his touch and surrounded by the mess and filth he’d reduced you to.

#one piece x reader #eustass kid x reader #eustass kidd x reader #eustass kid x you #eustass kidd x you #one piece smut #250 follower event #mdni #x reader #once again i have gotten carried away writing smut

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redr0sewrites · 12 days

Note

(Tumblr kicked me out in the middle of me writing this ask I'm so sorry if you receive this twice 😭)

I JUST READ YOUR STRIKER HEADCANONS AND IM DROOLING RN

I think he likes it when you make him fight for it sometimes. He likes the power struggle. Wrestle with him in bed, make him hold you down, make him tie your wrists together to keep you from flipping him over. If he wants to dom you, make him earn it.

Also? Heavy on the gunplay. It's never loaded of course and you have a safeword should you ever need it, but seeing that little twinge of fear in your eyes when you realize you can't keep fighting him, he won, you're powerless, AND he has a gun pressed against your temple? Delicious. Makes him feel strong.

Could I maybe request something like this?

yes oh my god this is literally what i was thinking when i made those hcs NONNIE U READ MY MIND ♥️

🥀Cw: smut, a bit of fluff, established relationship/consent, reader is gn but there is one use of m'am/sir, powerplay, scratching, biting, gun kink, overall filth

🥀minors dni

you collapse against the bed as striker pins you down, beating you easily in yet another wrestling match. the mattress dips from your combined weight, and striker used the opportunity to lean down, whispering against your neck. the combination of thefeeling of his breath ticking your sensitive skin and his raspy voice makes you shjver. "aww, how sweet," striker coos, mockingly tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. "did ya really think y'could beat me, poppet?" you squirm beneath him, his hips planted firmly above you with his thighs caging you in place. you buck your hips upwards, eliciting a hiss from striker as you grind against his prominent buldge. his tail rattles slightly, curling up around your thigh as, with one hand, he grabs you wrists and pins them down above your head.

"fucking brat," striker spat, using his free hand to grab your face, forcing you to look at him. his cowboy hat tipped forward, falling of his head as he leaned down to kiss you messily. you giggle when the hat falls to the side, but the giggle soon melts into a moan as striker grinds down against you. "fuck, doll, look what you do t'me.." striker murmurs against your lips, and you let him slip his tongue into the cavern of your mouth as the hand on your face travels down to your neck.

suddenly, with all your might, you push up against him, attempting to flip him over onto his back. striker lets out a throaty chuckle, tsking when you whine out his name. "y'wanna be on top, sugar? too damn bad," his voice transcends into a growl as he makes quick work of your pants and undergarments. he pulls apart from you to quickly undress himself, and while you remove your top, you also use the time to admire his toned body. "like what ya see?" striker smirks, crawling on top of you again, his hands finding purchase on your supple thighs. he gives your ass an appreciative squeeze before gently teasing your entrance with a finger. "y'ready?" he asks, his voice adopting a softer, serious tone. "if ya want to stop, we always can." you smile, grabbing his hand and pulling it closer to your needy hole. "i know, striker. and i know what i want- i want you, and i want you to touch me." the corner of his mouth twitches, fighting off a crazed grin. "y'really are such a doll, y'know that?" striker whispers huskily, plunging a finger into you. you gasp at the pleasurable intrusion, soon accompanied by a second finger as he stretches you out.

"o-oh! ffuck-" you gasp, keening as he curls his fingers with mind numbing accuracy. striker brushes your hair out of your eyes, watching your face twist in pleasure as you pant. he can feel you practically sucking in his fingers, and a sudden idea strikes him. "open up," striker commands, grabbing his gun from the bedside table. your hole clenches around his fingers and you throb at the sight of the weapon. without hesitation you open your mouth, drool pooling on the edge of your lips as he shoves the gun into your mouth. you gasp, shocked by the cold sensation of the metal against your tongue. you can feel your orgasm approaching fast, the coil in your abdomen squeezing tighter by the second.

suddenly, striker pulls his hand away, relishing in the muffled, needy whimper that slips past your lips. "aw, d'worry poppet," he chuckles, pumping his cock a few times before aligning himself with your hole. "i'd never leave ya unsatisfied". striker thrusted in slowly, watching as your aching hole swallows his cock in a vice-like grip. "o-oh!" you gasp airily, thighs clamping around his waist as you claw down his back. striker begins to move, slowly but surely thrusting into you as you adjust to his size. it takes everything in him not to loose all restraint and fuck you senseless, especially with the way your moaning his name like a prayer. your hole was tightening around him and your wanton moans grew louder and louder, signifying that you were close.

you clench around him impossibly tight, the pleasure becoming almost unbearable. "striker- oh fuucnghh-" you gasp, your words muffled by the gun stil in your mouth as the coil in your abdomen snaps. your mind went perfectly blank as you ride out your high, striker cursing up a storm as his orgasm follows immediately after you. he pulls out, spilling his seed onto your stomach and chest.

striker gently pulls the gun from your mouth as you come down from your euphoric high, wiping the tears from the corner of your eyes and gently massaging your sore jaw.

"y'okay, bubs?" striker asked, gently cupping your face as he collapses beside you. "mhm," you murmur, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to his nose. "just a lil' tired..." striker chuckles at your reply, gently kissing your forehead. suddenly, an idea struck you, and you crawl on top of him. striker watches you with amusement as you straddle him, his teeth glinting in the moonlight streaming in from outside your window.

"not too tired for round two, i see," striker snarks, and you shush him. "if you want to cum, then i suggest you stop talking," you reply, and striker swallows hard. "yes m'am/sir," he whispers, wetting his lips as you grind down against him. "i promise i'll behave," he murmurs, eyes glistening with lust as his hands travel to grip your thighs. "we'll see about that," you reply, already knowing your in for a long night.

I HAD TO HYPE MYSELF UP FOR THIS ONE 😭 this will probably have a pt2 w sub striker cuz i cant resist the opportunity- sorry i haven't posted in like a week ive been fighting demons (anxiety and burnout 😭) but i really wanted to finish this! i have a few more wips that will be posted soon, and im considering adding marvel/the mcu to the list of fandoms i write for cuz ive been falling back into my marvel phase lmao. ANYWAYSSSS I HOPE U ENJOYED!!!!

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done-with-the-shit · 11 months

Text

->Relationship Headcanons<-

Chuuya x Reader

This is the first time I write headcanons so it may not be very good.. Also English is not my first language, please keep that in mind while reading! Ty and enjoy♡

Anime: Bungou Stray Dogs

Characters: Chuuya Nakahara

Note: GN!Reader

///SFW///

I imagine that after an eternity of denying his feelings, he angrily confessed to you without even realising he did😃

Like you'd be minding your own business and he just randomly comes to you screaming in your face about how he hates the fact that he loves you or something...

After that he will most likely lock himself in his office and regret his life decisions😕

But you will go to him and also confess your undying obsession love for him so it's all fine!

Anyways as for when you two start actually dating he would be such a lovely boyfriend♡

Very romantic for sure~

Like definitely buys you flowers 'cause why not?

He'd also spoil the hell out of you.

He works for the mafia after all so money isn't a problem for him😉

If you are taller than him please don't tease him!! (my man's only 5'3🤭)

After all he is still growing!

Lots of PDA.. that's all I'm gonna say

He enjoys taking you out to fancy dinners, but he also loves spending nights in, just watching TV and maybe drinking some wine with you~

You are the only person who can wear his hat and coat^-^

He secretly likes to see you in his clothing but you didn't hear that from me~

Chuuya is very good at cooking😌 so if you can't cook he will do it for you... he may even teach you if you want!

He also loves all the affection you give him!!

Even if you just hug or kiss him he will be melting in your hands literally

Being his usual self fucking tsundere he won't admit that he likes cuddling with you, but don't be fooled, he very much enjoys being spooned and loved by you!

Chuuya needs to be the little spoon! My boy deserves all the love you can give him!! (Just don't tell Dazai 'cause he won't stop bothering our chibi about it😔)

He's also secretly scared of hurting you with his ability, so he's super careful around you.

All in all he is such a softy with us🥺

Anyways.. let's get to the interesting stuff~~

///NSFW///

Let's be honest this boy is a fucking switch😤

So I imagine him as a soft dom and a braty sub (don't ask why though👀)

And he is definitely open to trying all your kinks you nasty whore😒

But who am I kidding I have no right to judge..

Anyways.. I bet he has a knife and bandage kink

I mean just imagine yourself all tied up with this small man on top of you!!

Or the other way around😏

He enjoy biting you.. (that's all I'm gonna say)

I personally think that he only dom's in two occasions..

First being if you had a rough day and he just wants to make you feel better~

Another reason for you to let him dom is when he is angry at something or someone.. yk to help him relieve stress (if he doesn't ask you to fuck him instead😉)

All the other times?

Oh this boy will be begging you to fuck him while explaining how he is still the one in control denial

I mean as a said earlier he is pretty much a tsundere so..

Because of that you'd have to be someone he really, really trusts for him to let you take control

But once you get his trust? Oh boy you are in for it I'm telling you😩😩

He is going to be such a brat and would love to push you to your limit~

But don't worry he is actually pretty easy to handle

Just pin him beneath you and he will shut up..

And if he doesn't just tug at his choker! What else would he wear it for!?

Oh boy do not forget that beautiful hair of his😍

It's just made for pulling~

PRAISE KINK PRAISE KINK PRAISE KINK

Do I really need to say more??

Loud? Yes..

His moans are so incredibly loud like he doesn't hold back😩😫

Edging and overstimulation?

He loves hates it.. And will not tell you otherwise

But his favourite part is the aftercare~

Baby is so tired he needs your help!!

Take him to the bathroom and give him a nice warm bath (he deserves it for being such a good boy for you😖)

Loves it when you give him a lots of kisses and cuddles afterwards~

>>MORE OF MY WORKS<<

#chuuya nakahara #dom reader #sub character #dom!reader #male reader #fem reader #sub bungou stray dogs #bsd #sub chuuya #dazai osamu #sub male character #gn reader #chuuya x reader #chuuya x fem!reader #chuuya x male reader #anime #anime fandom

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cryptidcorners · 5 months

Text

Biker!Mike Schmidt x M!Reader Headcanons

Description: Headcanons with your biker boyfriend, Mike!

Media: FNaF!Movie [ AU ]

Character: Mike Schmidt (+ Abby)

Tags: Biker!Mike Alternate Universe, Fluff, Headcanons mixed with Drabbles, Protectiveness, Established Relationship, Found Family, Cute Stuff, Semi-Domestic, Romantic, Comfort + Uses Masculine Terms

Warnings: Mentions of (Gang, Vehicle, Physical) Violence, Injury + Kidnapping, Slight FNaF!Movie Spoilers, Depressive Thoughts, Stress, Extreme Nightmares

read my TOS + Mike Schmidt Masterlist

Definitely a show-off, even before you started dating. He wouldn't boast too loudly though, he prefers to smoothly tell you how he got blackeye or some new asset on his bike. He always melts when you're impressed by his feats, even if they were from failure.

Mike's a collector. While cycling or suffering from boredom in his dull jobs, he'd swipe a few things that grab his attention and share it with you. He enjoys making chains for you and Abby. It hasn't been the first time Abby has been dragged out of school for wearing a pin with some questionable language Mike didn't notice.

Absolutely adores helping you dress up to resemble his biker wear. Loves helping you find bracelets, decorative eyeliner and rebellious-printed clothes. It makes me squeal eternally.

Gets intense anxiety in populated areas, mostly due to his trauma with Garrett. He doesn't want to think about anyone taking you or Abby away. He's stupid protective in public spaces. With his already intimidating demeanour, it's safe to say nobody bothers talking to you too much.

He enjoys using pet names, but he jokingly calls you "sir", "bro" or "boytoy" a lot. Speaking of which, Mike adores when you make up titles for him. It's something he treasures a lot. A special name for him? And him only? Makes his heart melt.

Takes you on bike rides at any opportunity. He also loves taking Abby in rides too and doing basic tricks with you watching from the sidelines. He's always careful, he could never forgive himself if either of you got hurt.

One of his favorite things to do is let you touch his hair. Nothing makes him happier than intimate moments like that. He likes it more than cuddling and neck kisses. It's just the simple things in life that appeal to him the most.

Wears the silliest shirts while he isn't at work or roaming the streets. Either quotes involving boyfriends or cartoon merchandise. It amuses all of you, but it genuinely makes him happy to indulge in a separate style. Definitely has a: "Men love me, Fish Fear Me" hat somewhere.

You're always at his aid when he comes back bruised. Like the first bullet, he'd calmly hum you an out of tune, over exaggerating story to make himself look good. Truly, Mike doesn't think he deserves you. So, he refuses to embarrass himself.

Loves kissing. That's all.

"Come on, Mike. I gotta go," you giggled as he pressed featherweighted kisses against your skin. You could feel him smiling before he pulled back with a heated sigh. "Just a minute, please? You know how much I miss you." With a playfully eye roll, you wrap your hands around his sides and hug him as he continued peppering you again while grinning sweetly.

Always referencing something. Either it's from a show or song he likes. He's always dumbfounded when you don't understand and ends up spending thirsty minutes rambling about music history.

Pulls pranks occasionally, mostly with Abby's help. A few prank wars have gone down in your household.

Has at least two tattoos based on you (and Abby), he takes his relationships very seriously.

Cried when Abby called you her "dad" once. This loser is so head over heels for you he'd sob if you were complimented him. It makes his heart throb to see you and his sister connect despite everything.

Very defensive. If anything goes wrong, he's either going to use grade school insults or result to violence. There were a couple of times he couldn't come home due to arrest. He'd come back as if nothing happened.

If you ever got into an argument, Mike would try to give you the most formal apology ever. Either by notes or heavily descriptive speeches about how special you are to him. Most of the time it was pretty cheesy, but you couldn't help but be smitten by his adorable attempts.

Much deeper voice + Slightly Childish. He's still pretty shy when he isn't in his element, so Mike is much more confident with you around. Mostly due to his need to impress you.

So much fist bumping.

Mike's bike is DEFINITELY named after you. Anyone who asks about it is immediately shot with dumps of his adoration if you. Bro will never shut up about his boyfriend. Ever.

Mike has definitely gone through those: "This is for you," and failed immediately. As much as it embarrassed him, he finds it cute how fond you were of it. His face flares up a lot around you.

"God, I'm so sorry I missed it." He frowned, face drenched with numb scarlet. "I didn't mean to make a fool out of you." Mike relaxed once you gripped his leather glove with a smile, "So? I still love you. I think it was sweet how you tried to impress me. I'm proud of you." Mike swore he was starstruck right there.

Loves holding your hand, even in public. It's one of the only forms of affection he's comfortable with displaying.

#💤 mike schmidt #mike schmidt #🚲 biker!schmdit #headcanons #writing #writers on tumblr #fnaf #josh hutcherson #fnaf movie #mike schmidt x reader #fnaf movie spoilers #if yall want more of him ask!!!#mike schmidt x male reader #michael schmidt x male reader

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wordstome · 7 months

Text

Shrike pt. 3 - who we are

König x high school sweetheart reader

2nd person, she/her pronouns, reader is Austrian/has lived in Austria and speaks German for most of the story, romance, pining, friends to lovers, reader's nickname is Thorn, König's first name is Alexander, absolute tooth rotting fluff, corny as hell towards the end

2.8k words

tw: physical and emotional abuse, violence (chokehold, stabbing, throat slitting)

Hello to everyone reading this from my main blog! In case you haven't seen the pinned post on bucca2, this is my new writing blog. Everything I publish will be here on wordstome now. Please feel free to unfollow bucca2 and follow me here!

also PARIS PALOMA TEASED HER NEW SONG "DRYWALL" JUST FOR SHRIKE CHAPTER 3 SPREAD THE WORD

[PART 1] [PART 2 (PREV)] [MASTERLIST]

What I had left here I just held it tight So someone with your eyes Might come in time To hold me like water Or Christ, hold me like a knife

When you’re in total darkness, your eyes adjust. You can see everything around you, but it’s all devoid of color. Then when the light turns on, it blinds you, but it’s better to be blinded momentarily than to live in the dark forever.

That’s how it feels as you prepare to travel home. To escape. You’re antsy, excited and petrified at the same time. Before, it felt like the days flew past in a murky haze. Now, even the seconds crawl.

It feels like moving in a dream, like you’ll wake up any day now and it will all be taken away from you. Your hope, your new dreams for the future, your König.

A shiver runs through you. Where did “your König” come from?

When you’re not occupied with the anxiety of keeping such a huge secret from your husband, all you think about is König. You’ve spent the past few weeks in a haze, like he’s put some sort of spell on you. You do get a kick out of imagining him as a witch with a hat and cauldron.

But you know it’s something simpler than that. All the feelings you used to have for him have returned. It’s different than the heady rush you used to get with your husband. It feels sweeter, like you really are a teenage girl with a crush all over again.

It feels naïve, but you also don’t care. You feel safe despite the situation you’re still in, for the first time in a long time. You never would have expected to see König again—even less so for him to become your saving grace.

It seems silly in hindsight that you had been so frightened of him. Sure, the mask was a lot. But it had been something about his energy. It was different than you had ever felt from him, before or after your reunion. If he was that way on the battlefield, then no wonder he had earned the nickname König. You’re not sure if it scares or awes you.

You’re about to find out.

An anxiety attack is the worst feeling in the world.

You dry heave. Your chest feels like a roiling ball of angry carrion birds hollowing you out. You shake like a leaf in the wind. You fall down a long, dark pit of despair as your stomach seizes with nausea.

The train’s delayed. There’s been an issue with the tracks leading out of the city. No trains will be leaving for 12 hours.

You should have just sat in the terminal and waited, or tried to contact König, but you’re not thinking straight. All of your thoughts are focused on your husband, and what he’ll do if he comes home and finds you gone. You decide, somehow, that it would be wiser to throw yourself back into the lion’s den and pretend everything’s alright instead of waiting for him to come raging into the train station and pull you out by the hair. The thought of that is the only thing that gets you up off the wall you were hyperventilating against and back towards home.

The plan is to get home before he does and hide your suitcases. He’s usually not home by this time, anyway. You chalk the rising sense of dread in the pit of your stomach up to your anxiety and turn the handle to go in.

Fuck.

He’s standing in the kitchen.

The years have not been kind to him. He’s far from the charming young man you married. He’s wretched, unkempt, angry. It’s clear he’s been drinking, maybe even before he left work. The shadows etch themselves into the lines of his face as his expression twists into something awful, inhuman. You stand, frozen, as he approaches you.

“Planning a trip without me?” he asks with an awful grin.

You can still salvage this. “Yes. I’m sorry I didn’t say anything, but I just received word. My mother’s not doing well. I have to go see her.”

“You lie like a whore,” he snarls. “Don’t think I haven’t been paying attention. You’re different nowadays. Not the nice obedient woman I married.”

Your fear turns to anger in an instant. Years and years of this horseshit, waiting on him hand and foot, placing his smallest whims before your own needs and wants—it rushes up through you like hot steam. His nice obedient woman. And the worst thing is, you hate that he’s not wrong. That is what you’ve become.

“Yesterday I came home and you hadn’t even started dinner. Where were you, huh? Running around on me behind my back?” It’s difficult to describe, but his smile is oily: sleazy, untrustworthy, dangerous. “With that big fuck in a hood that came here with the mercenaries, perhaps?”

Your blood runs cold at that. Has he seen you with König? When? Why hasn’t he said anything? It feels like you’re stepping into a trap, but you must move forward if you want to get out.

“He’s going to get what’s coming to him, alright. My manager has a direct line to his boss. One word from him will get that fucker deployed to the middle of nowhere on a suicide mission.”

It’s an absurd threat, and you know it. This drunken idiot has no idea what he’s talking about—as if some middle-management bureaucrat could persuade a PMC to dispose of a soldier like König. But it’s the audacity that irks you. You’ve lived your life serving this man for too long, and now he thinks the world will bend to his whims. There’s absolutely no way he can touch König, but an old and familiar anger rises in you.

A long overdue revelation dawns on you now. He’s a bully. The same as Andreas: little boys with petty insults and empty threats. Pushing people around because their own lives are empty and unsatisfying.

An eerie calm breaks through you like the sky cutting through a storm. The man before you is just a feral animal, snarling and snapping in desperation. You’re not afraid of him anymore.

You reach behind you and slowly roll open the knife drawer, grabbing the first one your fingers land on.

“I’m leaving. I’m leaving this house, this country, and this marriage,” you say, gripping the knife in a defensive position. Your father taught you how to hold a knife like this: backwards, with the blade along your arm, sharp edge facing outwards.

“This way, it’s much more difficult for someone to turn the blade against you,” he had told you, demonstrating the motion by moving your arm towards your chest. The memory makes you smile. At the time, you’d been indulging your old man—he had always said that violence was a last resort, but that the world was unkind and one day you may have to defend yourself. He was right, just as he was when he told you he had reservations about your marriage.

You’re going home. You’re going to see your father again. And you’ll never have to tolerate the loathsome toad before you again.

The beast laughs. “What do you think you’re going to do with that? Stab me?” He’s up against you before you can react, the breath leaving your lungs in a gasp as he pins you against a wall by the throat.

“You. Are. Mine. You will never raise a hand against me because I own you,” he hisses, his alcohol-laced breath foul against your face. “And it’s high time you remembered that.” His grip tightens like an iron vice around your throat, but you’re not afraid. Even as your vision begins to blur and blacken, you stare directly into his eyes. They’re like red-hot coals of fury, but you see what’s behind them now. The fear. The cowardice of a desperate man who has no recourse but to lay his hands on someone who can’t fight back.

“You’re pathetic,” you rasp, lips tugging into a smile. The coals burn brighter. The hand squeezes tighter. The adrenaline surges through you like a tide—and your body acts to protect itself, in a way that you haven’t allowed it to in a long time. A feeling as sweet and familiar as an old friend.

The knife makes its home right between his ribs.

He staggers away from you, as if you had slightly winded him instead of stabbed him in the heart. Your hands instantly go to your throat as you cough and sputter, lightheaded and dizzy but alive, so alive. You’ve never felt so alive as you do right now, watching the demon of your own personal hell look down at the blade sticking out of him.

“You stupid little bitch—” He makes as if to lunge at you, but time slows. Your eyes widen as the shadows behind him melt and solidify into a figure. Tall and hooded. No knight in shining armor, but an assassin of deepest night.

König slashes through your husband’s throat in one deadly, beautiful motion.

Your husband falls to the ground like dead weight, gasping and choking on his own blood. Your eyes are fixed on him, a strange sensation bubbling through you. You’re making some kind of noise, loud and cacophonous, as König steps over the dying animal who has controlled you your whole adult life.

His arms find their way around you as you slowly sink to the ground, howling and wailing. He’s so patient, you think numbly with some corner of your mind that remains untouched by the mania seizing the rest of you. The two of you sit there, his body warm and solid against yours, as your body slowly exits fight or flight mode.

“Alex?” you say hoarsely once you’re in your right mind again.

“I’m here,” he rumbles.

You turn to look at him as he pulls the hood off his head. There he is, your Alexander, all grown up. He’s rugged, with nasty-looking white scars streaked across his face, but so, so handsome. His eyes are still the same as he looks at you with something akin to rapturous adoration. Your green-eyed boy.

“You’re back, rosethorn,” he says with a wide grin. There’s a touch of madness to it, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

“Was I…” Exhaustion sets in, seeping through your whole body. “Was I crying or laughing just now?”

He shifts you onto his lap, cradling you like a baby as you look up at him.

“I think you were laughing.”

The police release you after just over half an hour of questioning.

You aren’t going anywhere, of course. They’re leaving you, exiting your hospital room with murmurs of well-wishes for your health. They’ve hardly left the room when König comes striding in, instantly moving to your bedside and holding your hand in his.

He looks tired too, his eyes soft as he takes in your small smile. You’re sure he was being interrogated for much longer than you, but it looks like he passed muster as well. Not as if you had anything to worry about—what could the local police have done to the commander of the mercenaries taking down their local terrorist cell anyway?

“Are you alright? Did they clear you?” His expression hardens as he glances at your neck. You nod weakly. Your throat is going to be bruised for a while, but your attacker hadn’t done any lasting damage.

Attacker. Husband. Corpse. All of these words describe the same thing now.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there sooner,” he says mournfully. “He shouldn’t have had the chance to attack you like that.”

You shake your head at him. He didn’t know that you weren’t on the train heading home, after all. The room is quiet for a few moments, save for the distant beeping of a heart monitor.

“Why…” you manage to ask. He knows what you’re trying to say.

“Why was I there?” He glances around to make sure nobody’s listening, and leans in to whisper in your ear.

“I was there to kill him, of course.”

You shudder a little. He admits it so casually, that he was in your house because he was there to commit a murder. You should be afraid of him, but you feel around in your brain and come up empty-handed.

Instead, you find yourself worried. For him. “What if you had gotten in trouble?”

He snorts. “You underestimate me, rosethorn. I would have just framed it as a robbery.”

You nod. Oh God…does that mean he had planned this? Why doesn’t that horrify or disgust you? You’re just going to have to dissect that later. Right now, you only feel a warm affection towards the man stroking his thumb along your hand in a soothing motion.

“So…what comes next?”

“You’re asking me? We can do whatever you like. I can take you home.”

Home. Where is that, now? It’s certainly not in the house you’ve left behind, where the ghost of the man you were married to settles in every nook and cranny. It doesn’t feel like your childhood home where your parents are, either.

It’s such a corny saying, “home is where the heart is”. But home feels like it’s already here, sitting next to your hospital bed with the fondest look in his eyes.

“I’d like to travel,” you whisper. The with you goes unspoken.

“I have plenty of leave time saved up.”

You flip your hand so you can hold his. It’s huge next to yours. This is the hand that slit your husband’s throat, a hand that has killed countless people.

You’re not sentimental enough to pretend that’s not an issue. You’re not entirely sure this is happily ever after: that all of your problems are solved because you’ve replaced one violent man with another. But another part of you yearns to be the one who gets protected. You’ll take care of König, and you know he’ll take care of you. In his own way.

You can ask the questions later. Right now, you have lost time to make up for.

“Are you sure you should be wearing that scarf?”

The air is cold, but the wind is soft instead of feeling like tiny blades against your face. You tug said scarf down from your face and take in a lungful of crisp, icy air.

“I’ll be fine,” you reassure König as he hauls himself up the last ridge to where you’re standing. “It’s loose enough. And it’s chilly.”

“If you say so.” He tugs his neck gaiter further up his nose. “What a view, hm?”

You’re standing on Mont Blanc, blanketed by serene white snow just as the name promised. Further below you, the skiing slopes are crawling with tourists, but here in this little outcropping, the only sound is the occasional rush of wind and your voices.

“I think I can see Salzburg from here,” you say, pointing off into gorgeous landscape spread out before you.

“That is most certainly still Switzerland,” König says, amused. You turn to look at him instead and are rewarded with his shining green eyes looking right back at you.

“Whatever!” You let out a dissatisfied hmph, which draws a hearty laugh from him.

“You came all the way to Chamonix just so you could look at Austria again?”

“It’s a very tall mountain,” you argue.

“It’s one of many very tall mountains. We could have just gone to Großglockner.”

“That’s boring. I’ve always wanted to visit France.”

“You wanted to visit a very expensive ski chalet.”

“Bite me.”

“I just might!” You giggle and squeal as he grabs you, chasing your face with his as you squirm around.

“It is beautiful,” he concedes as he holds a hand above his eyes to keep off the sun. “Almost as beautiful as you.”

“I should push you off this peak right now.”

“You couldn’t move me an inch.” He grabs you by the waist and holds you tight to emphasize his point. You can’t even shift his arms off you, no matter how hard you push.

“Ok, fine, you win.” You pout at him, but he doesn’t let you go.

The dynamic the two of you share is so easygoing and relaxed, it’s like you had a rhythm all along that both of you just fell back into. But of course, there are some things you’ve never done together. Like travel together.

Or kiss.

“Are you going to do it this time?” you ask him, smiling.

His nose wrinkles up, uncharacteristically cute for someone like him. “Well, I was going to, but then you had to open your mouth.”

You cackle. “Go on then.”

“Can I?”

“I just said yes!”

“I forgot how much you like to talk,” he complains. Before you can say another word, he captures your lips in his.

The sky is vivid and blue as the whole world stretches out before you.

#RIPBOZO

Here we are! We're at the end of this little story I started writing on a whim. Honestly, this means a lot to me personally: I wrote a lot when I was younger, but high school and university were very difficult times for me, and I stopped writing fanfiction. I tried to get back into it during the pandemic, but I was never able to finish anything beyond a long-ish drabble. I'm quite proud of this.

Even still, I feel like there are a lot of stories that I still want to tell about this couple. There's quite a lot that I decided to cut from these main 3 chapters for the sake of pacing and time. There's a little bit of dissatisfaction at not having crammed in every little detail that I wanted, but if there's one thing that writing university papers has taught me, it's that perfectionism will keep you from getting anything done. So you will be getting more from Alex and Thorn in the future!

I know a lot of you were anticipating what delicious revenge König was going to exact on Thorn's husband, so I hope you weren't too disappointed ;; While I personally would have loved to have König strap him to a chair in the basement and do some morbid things with a knife, I think it was important for Thorn's character that she's involved in it. While of course the main focus of this story is König, Shrike is also about his beloved Thorn. I hope to explore König and the darker (and pervier) aspects of his character more in subsequent stories. But for now, they're getting a well-deserved happy ending.

One last thing before I go: Chamonix is a resort town in central/southeast France, not far from Lyon. (Sorry, I don't know whether Lyon is south enough to be considered southern France lol). Mont Blanc is Chamonix's main peak of the Alps, and is known for how pretty it is and being at the border of France, Switzerland, and Italy. As König said, if you wanted to visit a mountain as an Austrian, there are several of them at home you could visit, but since I visited it a few years ago, Chamonix has a special place in my heart. I just had to cram it in!

As usual, I'm excited to see your comments and feedback. I've read every single thing everybody has commented about this fic, even if I couldn't respond to you all, and I appreciate it so deeply. Whenever I get feedback I literally feel like kicking my feet and giggling. And if you want to ask questions or request specific scenarios with Thorn and Alex, please do send me an ask!

@crowbird @poohkie90 @cumikering @iytatsworld @papaver-decervicatus @anxietyrain @riotakire @ax0lotly @kneelingshadowsalome @cookiepie111 @kacchasu @no1runawaymilkdad @chthonian-spectre @backwards-readings @yxllowtxpe @garbau @hexqueensupreme @queenthorin1 @violetstyless @her-majesty-theking @vegan-peppermint @peonytarian @ghostslittlegf @euuuuuuun @e1x03 @kokonoiwife @deaddainish @dragonfang @teehee-47 @catluvwr @fireballoveraltanta

psst. to my tag list people while I have you here: naturally I will continue tagging you in other Shrike stories, but I'll also be using this same tag list for every other König fic I write. If you'd like to opt out of that, let me know. (No hard feelings, of course :3)

#könig #könig x reader #könig cod #könig mw2 #call of duty #cod mw2 #cod x reader #cod #mw2 #konig #konig cod #konig x reader #fic:shrike

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