#Stone Symphony | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kissyrafe · 12 days ago

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sex with rafe but you're taunting him as a trick for him to get more aggressive w it

cw: smut, fem!reader, rough sex, teasing/taunting, jealousy sex, unprotected p in v sex, friends w/ benefits, mirror sex, i think i'm in love with over-the-counter sex, (not proofread!!!)

"i don't know what game you're tryna play right now-" rafe sounded pissed off as he dragged you by your arm into the bathroom. "but cut it out." he stared at you as you leaned against the marble counter, back pressing into the cold stone. he pierced through you with just a look, enough to make your knees weak.

"what game? i don't know what you're talking about." you smiled impishly, playing with the hem of your jean mini skirt. the truth was, you were oh so loving 'the game'. you saw how rafe stared at you the whole night as you flirted with another guy in the group. touching his arms and chest, leaning against him, everything. it was all to get a rise out of rafe, knowing he doesn't like it when you're around other guys; as if it mattered.

to clear it up, rafe and you are not together by any means. from the start of this "relationship", it was apparent that both of you were only looking to relieve yourselves sexually. there were to be no emotional connections. but still, you both can't help but feel slightly jealous when the other one is with someone else.

"cut the bullshit." rafe stepped closer to you, now peering down at your figure. "don't think i didn't see you basically throwing yourself at him." he scoffed, biting the inside of his cheek from frustration. rafe hated seeing you treat other guys the way he wanted only you to treat him. but obviously, he couldn't just come out and say it, that would mean you had something over him, which he hated even more; feeling weak.

"like i said," you adjusted yourself on the counter and stood on your toes, your mouth now leveled with rafe's ear, "i don't know what you're talking about," you whispered softly. rafe let out a small laugh, his voice velvety smooth. his large arms traveled to either side of you, making sure you went nowhere.

the tension and silence were so, very, hot. neither of you said anything as you stared into each other's eyes. this was a battle. swallowing the clump in your throat, you felt rafe's hand travel down under your skirt and to the plush skin of your thigh, inching closer to your core. "do you think he can satisfy you like i do?" he asked smugly, feeling the soaked fabric of your panties.

"oh rafe," you sigh, a smile creeping onto your face "i know he can make me feel so much better than you do."

"wanna make that bet?"

your weak hands gripped the edge of the counter as rafe pounded into you from behind. small moans escaped your mouth and filled the room, along with the sound of light skin slapping. "do you still think he fucks better than me?" rafe demanded, knowing the answer already. but what he forgot was that you can be more stubborn than him.

you nod your head, looking at rafe through the mirror as he frowns. "s-s'. much. b-better." you stutter out as you feel rafe going faster, your eyes shutting. he scoffed, sensing your bluff. his calloused hand came to your neck, squeezing around you tighter with every thrust into your sweet cunt.

"just admit it, y'know you want ta." he smirked, seeing how fucked out you were already. it never took long to make you release and succumb. rafe knew for a fact you'd never find anyone better than him, or at least anyone better at fucking you than him. maybe it was the way you would squirm as he entered you, or your sweet, delicate, moans and whimpers that flowed out your mouth like symphonies.

your walls wrapped around rafe's dick, lewd noises appearing with every push he made into you. at this point you could barely even hold yourself up. he made your whole body weak as you were fucked senseless by him.

it drove rafe mad how you successfully made him jealous, how you had a hold on him. i mean really, the kook king was jealous of some lowly guy who didn't know jack shit about you or the secret places on your body that would make you limp. he knew it was a mistake to just treat you like a fling because he wanted you to just be his.

"you can fuck, but you can't make a girl feel good," you choked out, knowing how to push his buttons. "is that so?" rafe merely took that as a sign to slow down his thrusts, but he only went in deeper. you could practically feel his cock bulging into your stomach from how far he went. your mouth hung open as you moaned, eyes swelling with tears from pleasure. you felt it to your core. "i'm the only one that can make this pussy feel good, yeah?"

you felt your orgasm build from rafe's low thrusts as he hurried his pace again, his orgasm approaching too. "r-rafe, i-i..." you fell incoherent and unable to form any real thoughts. "sweet thing is 'boutta cum all over m' cock," rafe was amused seeing you like this, so raw and flushed from pleasure. "c'mon, show me how this dick feels, tell me." with his hand still around your neck, he made you look at him again through the mirror. "d'ya see how you look? all 'cause of me?"

"c-cumming, rafe! pleaseplease!" you felt your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you came undone all over rafe's cock, much to his enjoyment. you felt his thrusts stutter as his seed poured into you, making your body surge with pleasure and warmth.

rafe slowly pulled out of you, making you feel so... empty. he turned you around to face him as he tried catching his breath. you looked at him with tired eyes when his hand went up to your face, holding one of your cheeks softly. "don't ever use a guy to make me fuck you again, or i won't go gentle. alright?"

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plosive-attack · 2 years ago

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#the last time #the rolling stones #the andrew oldham orchestra #music #instrumental #love this #have it on repeat so much lately #so many feelings when i listen to this #this is where Bittersweet Symphony came from btw #Spotify

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peachdues · 8 months ago

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That tengen picture unleashed something inside me-

His fingers knuckle deep inside while he listens to your symphony of moans..

After he's done he licks them clean but he isn't done, nights still young after all

bestie, we are on the same page. And because I’m feeling a certain type of way, enjoy this scene from Tengen’s upcoming installment of Tell Me to Stop

VIOLENT DELIGHTS — NSFW SNEEK PEEK

bodyguard!Tengen x Assassin!Reader • enemies to lovers AU

A/N: giggling and kicking my feet rn.

CW: explicit sexual content • MDNI • fingering • edging • Tengen referring to Reader as a villain (affectionate) • rough sex • alley sex

“You’re a bastard.” But the ferocity of your insult is weakened by the way your back arches against the rugged stone of the alley wall; how you widen your thighs, a soft moan vibrating on your lips as Uzui sinks another finger into your wet heat.

The silver-haired asssassin only smirks as he leans in, close enough that the slightest movement would mean his lips would brush against yours.

He stills, leaving less than a millimeter between your mouths.

“But I am yours,” his breath is sweet and warm as it fans over your face. “And I’ll make you mine, even if I die trying.”

It is difficult to focus on anything but the hand between your thighs, pushed down the front of your trousers that he’d hastily untied when he’d cornered you in this dark alleyway.

Thick. The Sound Assassin’s fingers are so gods’ damned thick. He’d had you whimpering from just one, sliding in and out of your honeyed warmth with ease, your damn body betraying your desperate hunger for his.

The presence of the second finger stroking along your inner walls with each languid push of his hand has you gritting your teeth as the pleasure he bestows becomes edged by the faintest hint of discomfort.

It is maddening, how easily your body gives into his cursed touch. So much so that it sinks into your skin, ignites an itch that grows more incessant with each heaving breath.

You seek to take out some of your frustrations on his mouth. You stretch up on your toes, biting back a whimper at the way the tension in your legs and the new arch in your body pushes those wretched fingers deeper into your body.

Your hand seizes the nape of his neck and tries to jerk him down toward you.

Uzui tenses for a moment, his eyes widening before his mouth settles into a smirk, and he pulls back.

Those damnable magenta eyes flash with amusement at your responding snarl as you try and pull him down again, all to no avail.

“If it’s my lips you desire, then you’ll have to beg for them, sweet devil.”

The rough cobblestone of the wall scrapes against your back as you push harder into him. Your fingers twist harshly in his hair and you yank his head forward. “Kiss me, you damn brute —“

Your legs spasm as Uzui crooks his fingers inside you until he’s pressing directly on that rough patch of flesh deep inside your innermost wall — the one that had made you sob as he’d bullied it with the thick head of his cock weeks ago, when you’d thrown him down and taken him under the stars.

“Ah ah,” Uzui tuts, and the smug set of his mouth threatens to boil your blood. “Beg nicely.”

The slow, torturous massage of his fingers against that damn spot forces a trickle of drool from the corner of your mouth. Your tongue grows far too swollen, you head far too fogged, to even try and form the request he seeks.

Uzui, it seems, does not care that his hand is fucking you into a dumb stupor.

“Is your pride so great that you cannot muster a simple ‘please?’” He jeers, his eyes flashing with both lust and challenge.

He smirks, revealing a row of pearly white teeth as your thighs begin to quiver around his hand, your inner walls fluttering around each measured stroke of his fingers.

“It doesn’t matter. You’re about to come, aren’t you?” And his grin widens at the way you sink your teeth into your bottom lip, desperate to hold in the soft, breathy moans he knows you want to make. “Yeah, you are.“

His fingers wrench cruelly out from between your legs, leaving you with nothing but the ache of a rapidly fading high. But before you can howl you protest, before you can curse his name and his mother for the insult of his birth, Uzui flips you around and slams you into the alley wall.

His hand forces space between your groin and the stone, and without warning, he plunges his fingers right back into your soaking heat, clenching heat.

The moan rumbling in your throat feels distant and foreign as your eyes roll back. Uzui resumes his messy, hurried movements as though he hadn’t broken pace to begin with, and soon, your legs are vibrating where they’re pressed against the wall.

A sharp prodding against your backside brings you back down to earth long enough to realize Uzui is grinding wantonly against you, the rotation of his hips matching each thrust of his fingers.

There is no where for you to go; no where to escape. Not when your front is mashed against the alley wall, pinned in place by the heavy, suffocating mass of the Sound Assasin at your back.

Uzui’s teeth catch the lobe of your ear. “I know you, my darling nemesis. I know your body better than my own.”

The rational part of you screams to bite back; to fight, to show him exactly how he doesn’t know you at all, and how he’s an idiot for believing otherwise. But then, Uzui adds a third finger inside you, and the resulting stretch and burn between your legs is nearly as great as it had been when you’d first impaled yourself on his cock, all those weeks ago.

It was a sensation you’d been chasing ever since, only to be bitterly disappointed upon realization that no tavern boy, no cocky palace sentinel, could ever compare to the sheer mass of the King’s closest guard.

Resigned, you brace one palm flat against the stone wall, willing the bite of the rock against your skin to keep you grounded even as the silver-haired guard’s fingers threaten to send you free falling from some internal ledge. The other grasps wildly behind you in search of him, clutching at his hip and pulling him closer.

Uzui groans his approval into the side of your head, and he allows his great weight to smother you against the wall as he leans forward.

“Do you think I could have forgotten how it feels to have you climax around me?” His thumb swirls that bundle of nerves at the apex of your thighs as his fingers continue to pump steadily in and out of you. “Do you truly think I don’t spend my nights imagining you, perched atop me, using my cock the way you desire? That the memory of your face screwed up in pleasure — the feeling of your divine cunt wrapped around me — doesn’t haunt my every waking thought?”

He plunges his fingers inside you, all the way to his third knuckle. “You must answer for the torture you’ve inflicted, you cruel, wicked creature.”

You cry out right as Uzui strokes that inner spot once more, your hips twisting and grinding desperately against his hand as the thumb working your bead increases its pressure.

The bulge pressed right against your ass is rock-hard, and the thought of what lies beneath his trousers makes your mouth water.

The coil in your gut begins to tighten once more, this time more quickly than it had when you’d been facing him. Its pull is stronger, and the way his thick fingers keep grazing that sweet spot on your innermost wall all but guarantees you’ll be turned to liquid right there in that seedy alleyway.

You need his lips — otherwise, your screams will alert everyone within a fifty-meter vicinity of exactly how capable the Sound Assassin was of breaking you.

You try and warn him. “Uzui —“

“All you have to do, my sweetest torment, is beg.”

Your walls pulse violently around his fingers, a warning that you are mere seconds away from succumbing to brutal pleasure. Your hips begin moving on their own, grinding and checking desperately into his hand as the rough stone wall bites and scrapes against your exposed hips.

The need for him — for his lips — burns hot in your blood. It is maddening, this desire for his intimacy, and yet, try as you might, you cannot squash it.

You need it — need his kiss, need him to consume you whole.

“T-Tengen.” It slips out before you can stop it, your mouth forming the syllables with a startling ease.

Behind you, the Sound Assassin freezes, his hand stilling its maddening exploration of your core.

Never before had you called him by his given name; normally, you were in the habit of calling him every derogatory insult under the sun. At best, you’d called him Uzui.

Though you are turned away from him, you can feel the shift in him; the dark lust that settles over him, clouds whatever common sense he claimed to possess, replacing it with base need.

“That counts,” he growls in reply, and then the hand between your thighs resumes its task with more vigor than before, which the other snares in your hair and wrenches your head back.

The strain in your throat amplifies as Uzui roughly claims your mouth with his. He does not bother to wait for your permission before deepening the kiss; instead, he only tightens in hold in your hair, forcing you to gasp into him. The moment your lips part, his tongue sweeps past, branding you with each lick at the roof of your mouth.

You suppose it’s a good thing Uzui has smothered your moans with his feverish lips and demanding tongue. For the second his hand pulls away from between your legs, right as you’re on the precipice of cumming to pull that thick, monstrous length of his free from his trousers, you surely would’ve cried out in protest.

And that wicked mouth of his also manages to swallow the scream of pleasure that follows as Uzui enters you in a single, deep plunge, as well as your subsequent groan as you climax around him, just as he begins roughly fucking you against the alley wall.

#demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #tengen uzui #kny #kny x reader #kny uzui #kny fanfic #kny tengen #tengen x reader #demon slayer uzui #uzui x reader #demon slayer fanfic #demon slayer smut #kny smut #uzui smut #tengen smut #kny hashira

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doyoulikethissong-poll · 7 months ago

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The Verve - Bitter Sweet Symphony 1997

"Bitter Sweet Symphony" is a song by the English rockband the Verve, from their third studio album Urban Hymns (1997). It is based on a sample from a 1965 version of the Rolling Stones song "The Last Time" by the Andrew Oldham Orchestra. The Verve added strings, guitar, percussion and vocals. They obtained rights to use the "The Last Time" sample from the copyright holder, Decca Records, but were denied permission from the Rolling Stones' former manager, Allen Klein. Following a lawsuit, the Verve relinquished all royalties and the Rolling Stones members Mick Jagger and Keith Richards were added to the songwriting credits. In 2019, ten years after Klein's death, Jagger, Richards, and Klein's son ceded the rights to the Verve songwriter Richard Ashcroft.

The music video was played frequently on music channels and was nominated for Video of the Year, Best Group Video and Best Alternative Video at the 1998 MTV Video Music Awards. It has been parodied in television advertisements and other music videos. "Bitter Sweet Symphony" reached number 2 on the UK Singles Chart, and stayed on the chart for three months. It reached number 12 on the Billboard Hot 100. It was named Rolling Stone and NME Single of the Year and was nominated for Best British Single at the 1998 Brit Awards. In 1999, it was nominated for the Grammy Award for Best Rock Song. "Bitter Sweet Symphony" is considered one of the defining songs of the Britpop era and has been named one of the greatest songs of the decade by several publications.

"Bitter Sweet Symphony" received a total of 76,9% yes votes!

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#finished #high votes #high yes #high reblog #90s #the verve #english #o1 #o1 sweep

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cloudcountry · 7 months ago

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SUMMARY: people say suffering is what it means to be a shroud. you could not think more different.

WARNINGS: mentions of blood & self mutilation.

COMMENTS: PHEW THIS ONE WAS A DOOZY!!! idia stop being my muse pls 🙏🙏 i keep writing 2k - 3k word fics in one sitting because of you

“Don’t you wish the world treated him better?”

You blink, entranced by the swirls of green. The voice beckons you closer.

How was that door open...? It should have been closed, right...?

“Don’t you wish you three could live up on the surface, like everyone else?”

More voices have joined.

“Don’t you want that for him and his brother?”

It sounds beautiful, like a symphony.

“This is what it means to be a Shroud.”

You step closer, muscles relaxing as you slip under their spell. The voices are right. They deserved better. They should have been able to live where they pleased, to escape this island and their fate.

The voices giggle—they know they’re right.

They’ve reached you.

Black consumes your vision, blocking out the glowing green. You shut your eyes. Your world grows darker. There's a seizing in your chest and a fluttering in your heart as something pours into your body, staining you.

“This is what it means to be a Shroud.”

“Set us free, and we’ll set all of you free.”

—

The hallways are blaring red, but all Idia sees is the floor swimming in his vision. Ortho is by his side as he punches access code after access code into the door panels, running like he’s never run before. He has a stitch in his side but he keeps going, your face flashing in his mind.

He lost Ortho once. He’s not losing someone again.

It’s like the stairs last forever, winding deeper and deeper into the Earth. Idia doesn’t stop running once, even though he feels like he’s going to fall over and throw up. He’s almost one-hundred percent certain Ortho has carried him at some point but his mind is too messy and his vision is too muddled to care.

Time seems to slow as he reaches the bottom. He raises his head as his ears ring, and the second he lays eyes on you it’s like his vision is clear again. Ink pours out of you and the black markings on your face are all too familiar. Blue fire spits out from behind you and your shrieks are heartbreaking, like you’re wailing for something you want so badly but could never have. Wings sprout from your back, broken and crooked, feathers twisted and clumped. Your hands are worn and bloody from stretching at the walls, and that’s when Idia realizes—

You want to be free.

Guilt crashes over him and it's a critical hit. Of course. He should have been sure this is what you wanted. He should have known you’d get sick of life here, even though you said you loved him time and time again, even though you held him on all those nights that he couldn’t sleep because the thoughts were too much, even though you bonded with Ortho and stepped back for him, letting him set boundaries even though that meant not doing things you wanted to do, like holding his hand or kissing his forehead or playing with his hair.

He should have known this wasn’t the life you wanted.

The ring on his finger feels like nothing more than a heavy stone now.

—

It took years for Idia to open up to you about his family situation. In fact, he seemed to be braced for the possibility that you’d leave him in a heartbeat after hearing it. Your heart ached for him when he explained his past and his inevitable future in a soft, low voice, rushing through the whole thing as if it was the scariest thing he’s ever done.

You placed your hand on his knee once he stopped, letting his words trail off into the night.

“I understand you.” you’d said, looking him straight in the eyes. They seemed to glow in the darkness of his room, flickering like a fire about to be put out.

Idia curled in on himself that night, dragging a clump of his hair over his shoulder and twisting it into knots. You’d reached over and gently grabbed his hands, stopping him from tangling his precious hair. You’d gently smoothed out the fiery strands before kneeling in front of him, looking up at him as if paying him reverence.

“I want to stay with you.” you’d said softly, cradling his shaking, fragile hands in yours.

In that moment, it felt like his very heart was beating between your intertwined hands.

Soft sniffles filled the room that night, and you kissed each tear away. More kept coming, more and more and more, his eyes blotchy and red as he tried to keep quiet. You kept quiet too, whispering how much you cared about him and how if he would let you, you’d stay with him forever because you loved him and he deserved someone by his side. You kissed each tear well into the night, fighting his overwhelming sorrow with your love.

—

Your memories are patchy. It’s like you don’t remember who you are, or where you are. In the dark expanse of your mind, you remember two things.

Idia Shroud and Ortho Shroud.

Your throat feels heavy as your heart starts to palpate—what happened? Where is the green glow? Where are all the comforting voices that whispered your new future to you?

Where were the people you were fighting for?

“Vitals stable.” a faraway voice calls, a sharp clatter piercing through your quiet, inky haze, “Commencing full body scan for blot.”

Blot...

Your eyelids pry themselves open. All the energy has been sapped from your body, your limbs heavy and useless. The strings holding them up have been cut, and it's scary that you can’t remember how you were strung up in the first place.

“Mx, we ask that you please stay still.” the man above you is in a white coat, his hands holding a clipboard and a pen.

You nod passively. Something about him seems familiar enough.

His voice drones on statistics about your well being as your eyes slip shut again, and arms of sludge reach out from your mind and pull you back under the ink, into a deep sleep.

—

Idia is chewing on his fingernails again.

He wishes you were here to scold him for it and paint a new coat over them so he wouldn’t chew on them anymore, being too sentimental to mess up your hard work and too repulsed by the taste, even though he would only ever tell you the latter and—

You were still asleep.

Your vitals are stable, You are fine.

You are fine but there are still black scars all over your body.

Your vitals are stable but the marks will stay there forever.

You almost died and it’s his fault.

You want freedom and he took that away when he said “I do.”

He kissed you and he sucked the soul right out of your body, keeping it clutched in his hands because he’s selfish and stupid and why in the world did you even fall in love with him in the first place?

He has nothing to offer you.

Nothing but this.

Suffering and loneliness and contempt and headaches and cold nights and machines that fill your whole day, leaving no room for the whimsical leisure you enjoyed before. There are no more board games, no more trips to the school store, no more fresh air and nighttime walks, no more watching movies and eating gummy worms, no more talking to anyone who isn’t him.

The ring on his finger burns.

—

You don’t know how long it's been since you went to sleep.

You wake up to a room with dark walls and metallic shelves above your head. The bed (cot?) is firm underneath your body, which is adorned by a gray uniform. There’s a desk right across from you with a tablet and a chair. You can’t see anything it’s hooked up to. The one constant among all of these things seems to be the triangular details, criss-crossing and curving and connecting with each other.

They make your vision spin, so you look away.

You stay in bed.

For some reason your face and neck sting, as does your back. You trace the parts of your face that burn, finding that the areas are almost symmetrical on both sides.

What happened?

“...Idia?” you whisper, your left hand resting over your smoothly beating heart.

The door opens.

Your heart lurches into your throat when you see a dark uniform, fiery blue hair that swings well past his elbows, and eyes that are sunken in. His skin is as pale as ever, his lips chapped and bitten by worry, his nails stubbed and torn, but—

He came.

But it’s him.

He came when you called.

“...Idia—!” you gasp, choking on your words as you lurch forward and cough, black ink splattering all over your gray shirt.

“Easy!” he yelps, rushing to your side. You feel his cold hand press against your back and you lean into the touch, starved for it.

“What happened?” you ask between smaller coughs, following his hand and he lays you back down.

Idia bites his lip. He does not answer.

Instead, he turns his back to you and moves over to the desk grabbing the tablet. He still doesn’t look at you as he taps a few bottoms. He gnaws on his lower lip before twisting the chair to face you and sitting down.

“How much do you remember?” he counters your question with another question, eyes heavier than usual.

“I remember green.” you whisper, the intriguing whispers poking into the corners of your mind again, “I remember voices...they said sweet things to me.”

Idia winces as if that’s the last thing he wants to hear.

“You overblotted.” he says, so blunt it surprises both of you, “You went...deeper than you should have, and you overblotted.”

You touch your face. The burning sensation wiggles as if it’s been recognized, and is pleased. It’s like there's something under your skin, something alive and yearning,that was waiting for him to say it.

“Oh.” you whisper, and in turn, the voices begin to beckon you again.

“This is what it means to be a Shroud. Don’t you wish you three could live up on the surface, like everyone else? It’s not fair, is it? He deserves better. His brother deserves better. You all do. We can help you, we can make that happen, you just have to help us—”

“They were phantoms.” you breathe, tracing the lines on your face over and over and over and over and over—

You don't notice when he gets up and reaches for you. Idia grabs your hand when it looks like you’re pressing too hard, your nails digging into your skin. You stop immediately, looking up at him with glossy eyes and trembling lips.

“Idia...is this what it means to be a Shroud?” you ask, forming each word carefully.

The phantoms said as much.

But he says nothing.

“I don’t blame you if you decided this isn’t what you want, you know.” he says, tone flat and disinterested, like you’re someone he doesn’t even know.

“What do you mean?”

“Your phantom looked like it wanted to be free.” he says, tablet still in his hand.

He pulls up the footage of your rage and shows it to you—your crooked, clumped wings and your bloody, inky hands and your screams as you cry for freedom, freedom—

He misunderstands.

“Not for me!” you seize his wrist, squeezing it so hard you fear it’ll break but this important, “For you! Freedom for you! It’s always you and it always will be you! I wanted you to be free and Ortho to be free. I wanted all of us to be free—!”

You start coughing again, this time even harder. Ink splatters on your bed and this time Idia is on you, he’s truly with you, cradling you against his chest as the ink stains his uniform as well. It pours out of you like a dead, polluted river, and yet in a twisted way it’s a symbol of how much you care.

You vaguely feel his nose pressing against your head in the haze, whispering what sounds like swears and pleads but none of it reaches your ears over the sound of your coughing. By the time you’re done, both of you are thoroughly painted with the remnants of blot.

The voices are gone.

“I’m so glad you’re okay.” he whispers it into your head like it's a confession, meant for your ears and your ears only, “I thought you...wanted to leave here. Leave me.”

His arms are around you like a vice grip.

You’re grateful you’re alive to see him be selfish.

“Idia...my love.” you say, equally as soft, “How many times do I have to tell you that I want to be with you?”

“It’s hard to believe!” he protests, voice cracking.

He pulls away from you, just enough to look over your face. His eyes are watery and he’s so vulnerable—you really scared him. His thumb traces down the parts of your face that burned, the parts of your face you know will be scarred for life now.

“Good thing I’m still here then.” you smile weakly, cupping his face, “I’ll remind you every single day.”

His ring no longer burns.

His left hand rests over your left, and your rings clink together as they connect.

You’re okay. You still want him. You’re alive.

“You’re crazy.” Idia groans, stepping forward and falling into your arms, “You are absolutely crazy. Any normal person would be running for their life right now, calling me a freak and hyperventilating. A normal person would never want to come back—”

His slumps over you like a big cat, arms encircling you in warmth once again. It’s his way of hiding his expression when he’s getting a bit too into his feelings—you know this by now.

“Goodness. It’s a good thing I’m madly in love with you then.” you laugh, hands splayed out on his shoulder blades as he hugs you again, “You know what they say about love making you do crazy things.”

“Please don’t ever do that again—oh Great Seven.” he squeezes you even tighter and you let him, putty in his hands.

“I’m not planning on it. I promise.” you reassure him, “I don't want to leave you—”

“It’s not about leaving me, you could have died!” he protests, cradling the back of your head, “I’d be fine if you just left! If you were somewhere else...somewhere safe!”

“You would not be okay with that. Don’t pretend to be.” you chastise him quietly, and you know you’ve won when he goes quiet, “You want to keep me here, and you want me to stay. I want the same thing. You don’t have to pretend I’m a sacrifice that can be made. I didn’t fall in love with you because you’re noble or a goody-goody.”

He doesn’t say anything for a few moments. Then—

“I love you so much.” he mumbles.

It’s a rare confession, one that has never lost his sweetness even after years together.

Now this, this is what it means to be a Shroud.

It means staying with each other no matter what.

It couldn't be farther from loneliness.

“I love you too.” you murmur back, and his thumbs trace your blot scars as he presses a single, barely noticeable kiss to your forehead.

#auburn's fics <3 #flops on the ground. guyss i NEED to stop doing all this in one session omg #i keep coughing WHY AM I STILL SICK #anyways married idia <333 my favorite version to write <333 muah muah #twst #twisted wonderland #disney twst #disney twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #idia shroud #idia shroud x reader #idia shroud angst #idia x reader #idia angst

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