#arvin russel

[sunhlland]

Why is it so difficult to find behind the scenes of tdatt? Netflix doing a terrible job of promotion as always.

Arvin will always be one of my favorite characters, as will this movie, on my list of my favorite Thomas movies.

[idunnoficsorsumthing]

Masterlist

Contains:

Smut 🔥

Fluff 🥰

Angst💙

Arvin Russel

Long time ago 💙🥰

Bash

Forbidden pt 1 🥰

Forbidden pt 2 🥰

Forbidden pt 3 🥰

Forbidden pt 4 🥰

Bobby Floyd

Throw it out 🔥

Young love pt. 1 🥰

Young love pt. 2🔥

Bobby Nash

Four times... 🔥🥰

Surprise 🔥💙

While you were sleeping 🥰

Virtue 🔥🥰

Bucky Barnes

Wild Child

Castiel

Own room 🥰

Walking and rain 🥰

I dunnoooo 🥰

Dean Winchester 

Parents 🥰

Past mistakes🥰

Another?🥰

Fuck Buddies🥰

Homesick 💙🥰

Homesick pt 2 💙🥰

Spiders🥰

I can’t 🥰

Dean Winchester broke my heart?🥰

Gabriel

Sweet taste 🥰

Late 🥰

Blurb 🥰

George Weasley

How is everyone okay with this? 🥰

Best friends 🥰

Best friends pt 2 🥰

Issues lol 🥰

Wedding dress shopping 🥰

Next steps 🥰

Yule ball dates 🥰

Green? 🥰

Blurb 🥰

New Perfume 🥰

Dragons 🥰

Harry Styles

Old feelings 🥰

Harvey Specter

Dinner Secrecy 🔥

Hangman

This might be the summer heat masterlist 🔥

JJ Maybank

JJ Maybank no title🥰

JJ Maybank no title pt 2🥰

Lucifer Morningstar

Do you believe? 🥰

Newt Scamander 

Come with me to paris 🥰

Remus Lupin 

Get on 🥰

Summer Fling 🥰

Stiles Stilinksi

Snow 🥰

My Point🥰

Rafe Cameron 

Lost the bet🔥

[shellshocklove]

THE DEVIL ALL THE TIME 2020 | dir. Antonio Campos

[slasherscream]

my girl can wear whatever she wants tiers please for crazy ass boys gang!!!

CRAZY ASS BOYS GANG + MY GIRL CAN WEAR WHATEVER SHE WANTS TIERS

❥ my girl can wear whatever she want cause I can fight ❥

Billy Loomis - When you look particularly good his arm might as well be glued to your waist. He's both possessive and protective. He hates the way everyone's eyes devour you, but can't help how prideful it makes him either. Yeah, you want her. Of course you want her. Everyone does. But only I have her. God help the idiot that's stupid enough to open their mouth and not just look.

Jordan Li - They love watching you put your outfits together. They make suggestions from your bed, glancing up at you every few minutes. They can't help it. Their eyes are drawn to you permanently. No matter how crowded the room they can find you in a second. Whenever there's a party Jordan loves watching everyone try to sneak quick glances at you. They jump like rabbits when they wind up meeting Jordan's eyes and watch that smile that Jordan only wears around you fall back into the usual scowl. No one wants to be caught staring at Jordan's girl.

Arvin Russell - It's not possible for you to feel fear in public when you're with Arvin. You could be wearing straight lingerie in the most dangerous city in the world at 2 am and be safe. He's not just ready to protect you but hungry for it. Every time he proves he'll fight till his knuckles are bloody and bruised over you he watches you walk a little more confidently. Shine a little brighter. Knowing that he's there to protect you has only made you more yourself every day. And Arvin? He's obsessed with the transformation that the safety net of his fierce protection has ignited within you.

Jason Dean/JD - You wish he'd only fight people over what you're wearing. Unfortunately, this is not the case. JD pulls out a gun. Not every time, granted. Just a large majority of the time. In his defense, how is he supposed to act when someone has the audacity to cat call you? Do you expect him to just watch and not care as you experience that brief shiver of fear that runs up your spine when a man whistles at you before following it up with even more salacious words? If you feel fear, he'll make them feel fear. Simple.

Sparrow!Ben Hargreeves - If someone is stupid enough to not recognize him before they say anything to you about what you're wearing they will quickly recognize the tentacle wrapped around their throat. "Apologize." He hisses through gritted teeth, increasing the pressure, knowing just how much strength he can use before it would break their neck. How he ever expects anyone to apologize to you with a giant tentacle wrapped around their wind pipe you don't know. This is the second time this month. You're running out of night clubs you're not banned from.

David Mccall - You walk out of the house with the confidence that only someone who's done 12 tours over seas should have. But no, you just have a boyfriend who is incredibly scary. You've watched him almost break a man's hand for brushing it against yours at a crowded bar while he reached for his drink. You don't even think before you throw on an outfit anymore.

❥ my girl can wear whatever she want because she a hoe and I knew that before we started dating ❥

Josh Washington - Could he fuck someone up if needed? Yes, but he feels no need to. As long as you're not in danger or being disrespected Josh loves the way you express yourself through your look. You're hot and beautiful, of course you wear stuff that's short or tight, or both. If he looked like you he'd do the same thing. People don't usually say anything to you anyways, since he's always pressed to you like a second skin. He's not a jealous guy, but he is a chronic clinger.

Stu Macher - Is probably the person wolf whistling you in the first place. Points at you from across the room when you're talking to other people and says, "That's my girl right there. She's smoking, right?" He will always be smug he pulled you and NEVER shut up about it. The more wild you dress the more smug he gets. People can look all they want. But you only want him. What's there not to brag about?

Kevin Khatchadourian - Kevin above anyone else would thoroughly understand your psyche before dating you. He's involved with you because, somehow, you intrigued him against all odds. He already expected and predicted with near perfect accuracy every step of the relationship. Skimpy outfits are not throwing him. Can he fight? Yes. But, frankly, if someone pisses him off by hitting on you swinging on them is not gonna satisfy him. He's more of a "put their fingerprints at a crime scene so their life is ruined" type of get back. If he decides not to kill them.

Sebastian Valmont - Sebastian is the one buying you more hoe clothes. He loves your style and is not insecure. If either of you wanted someone else, you could go get them. But you two were practically made for each other. He wants to show you off. Is never going to be the type to try and dull your shine. He wants to walk into a room with you and have jaws drop from the deadly combination of the way you look together. He thrives off of seeing how much people want you. Knowing how futile it is. How hopeless. He pulls you tight into his side and grins like the devil himself (also, and this knowledge is of utmost importance, he cannot fight for shit.)

❥ my girl can wear whatever she want cus I’m scared of her ❥

Nathan Prescott - Is possessive, jealous and insecure enough to absolutely want you to change what you're wearing. With anyone else he'd even be bold enough to tell them to change. You are not anyone else, though. You are you. Considering every other behavior you tolerate from Nathan on a monthly, weekly, daily, and hourly basis you would snap on him like a twig if he tried to bring one more red flag on board. He knows this. You know this. When you slide on your low rise jeans and the tiniest crop top known to man, you make eye contact with one another in the mirror. He looks away first. You go back to peacefully fixing up your hair. Upside, no one is crazy enough to actually hit on you when you're at parties held on campus together. Which means Nathan won't have the cops called on him. Hooray!

[tom-whore-dleston]

Goth Farmer

Goth: horror themes, mysterious and dark, mysterious Farmer: rural, tractors and machinery, animals, traditional

Here is my submission for @the-slumberparty's What's Your Aesthetic graphic challenge. I can't believe the slumber party is slowly coming to an end 🥺🥺 I've been having such a blast connecting with so many kind and talented creators while getting back in the writing groove. I am already looking forward to the next slumber party 😊😊

For this challenge, I got goth farmer and immediately thought of Arvin Russel. It was easy since The Devil All the Time already has southern gothic themes.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Make You Mine 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, age gap, possible abuse, alcoholism, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your father is strict but his authority is challenged by the boy in town and the man at his door.

Characters: Arvin Russell, Lee Bodecker

Note: dirty old man vs. nasty young man

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

The radio blares as you enter the front room, a plate in each hand. You hand one to the sheriff as he smirks and offer the other to your father. He doesn’t look at you as he cups his chin and slumps. You’re not sure he’s even awake. 

“Daddy,” you say. 

He doesn’t answer. You set the dessert on the round table next to his chair. You back up as Bodecker catches your eye. You bite back a frown. 

“I’ll get that rum,” you utter. 

You retreat and hurry off to the kitchen. You find two short liquor glasses and pour the rum. You return to them and place one glass by your father before giving the other to the sheriff. He examines the dark liquor. 

“Fine brand,” he drawls, “and a fine dessert. Hard to enjoy without a fine woman.” His blue eyes flick up to yours. The silver strands in his brown hair glimmer in the lamp light. “Where’s yours, then, baby?” 

“Mine, sir?” You fold your hands and step back. 

“You put all this work in, you should enjoy the fruits of your labour,” he tuts. “Ain’t that right, Jack?” 

You father grumbles as he leans toward the radio. It’s got an arched top, one of the ones back from before the war. Your grandfather’s. You don’t dare touch it. 

“Come on, then, you gotta have a bite,” he puts the drink down and lifts the plate off his lap, “here ya are, girl.” 

He cuts into the pastry with his fork and chisels away a creamy bite. Your purse your lips as he offers it to you. You gulp. 

“Sheriff, that’s for you. Really, dinner was more than enough--” 

“Go on,” he hovers the fork, the cream about to drop. “I’m sharin’, like a gentleman.” 

You nod and push your hands behind you. You ball them up tightly and bend forward. You're overly aware of his gaze as you close your lips around the tines and suck off the cream. You keep your mouth sealed as you pull back. 

You chew thoroughly before you swallow. He chuckles and balances the plate on his thigh. He curls a finger to beckon you down, “come here, baby girl, you got something...” 

You crinkle your brow but obey. Your father garbles senselessly as the commentators call an out. You wince as the sheriff drags his thumb across your lower lip. 

“Made a mess,” he purrs and pushes against the center of your lips. “Best clean it up.” 

He forces his way into your mouth and rubs your tongue, wiping the sweet cream on your tastebuds. He pets your chin before he pulls away. Your saliva glistens on his thumb. He puts it to his mouth and licks. 

“You’re just as sweet, baby girl,” he winks. 

You waver and look at the floor, “sheriff, there’s a real mess in the kitchen. I best clean it up.” 

“You always do what’s best, don’t ya?” He teases. “Go on, then. Be a good girl.” 

His words send chills over you. He's not saying anything wrong but his tone suggests otherwise. That look on his face too. You flit away, your breath constricting from the breath trapped inside. 

You exhale as you enter the kitchen. You focus on cleaning up. You wash the dishes meticulously, hoping to waste the time until the sheriff leaves. 

A sudden crash rings through from the front room. You wring the dishcloth and rush through the door. You’re daddy’s on the floor, his plate and glass around him. The radio continues to buzz. 

Bodecker stands over him, hands on his hips. 

“Told him to slow down,” he clucks. 

“Daddy?” You scamper forward. The sheriff looks at you and lays a hand on your shoulder. 

“Don’t you worry, baby girl. I’ll get him. He just needa sleep this off.” He squeezes and rubs with his thumb, reluctantly letting you go. “You lead the way, huh?” 

He bends and scoops up your daddy. You pout but can’t argue. You wouldn’t be able to move him on your own. You turn and guide the sheriff. You take him to the stairs and up to your father’s room. You open the door but stay outside. You’re not supposed to go in there. 

You watch from the door as he lays your daddy on the mattress. You rub your palms together nervously. He grips his lower back as he steps back. 

“Ah, sittin’ in that cruiser, no good on me,” he grits as he crosses the room. He shuts off the light as he gets to the door. 

“Is he alright?” You ask as he closes you out. 

“Should be,” he brushes his fingertips long your hip. “Don’t you worry. Seems you do too much of it.” 

“Oh... uh,” you step away from him. He looks past you and heads down the hall. 

He stops by your bedroom and spins back to you. You trip to keep from colliding with him. “This yours?” he taps on the door. 

“Um, yes, sheriff.” 

He spreads his hand on the wood, “really?” 

He grabs the handle and twists. You don’t have a chance to stop before he struts inside. You gasp and follow him. 

“Sheriff? What--” 

“I’m just lookin’,” he says as he heads for the bed. “It’s nice. Got a lady’s touch, ain’t it?” 

He admires the shelf clock. Your mom painted it. You teeter on your toes. 

“I guess, but...” 

“I’m gonna need the guest room,” he says. “Ain’t in no state to be drivin’. You got a heavy pour on ya, girl.” He turns and strides up to you. “That rum sure is strong.” 

“Oh, I'm sorry, sheriff--” 

“’Sides,” he stops before you, “should be sure your daddy makes it through the night. He’s a lush.” 

You look away guiltily, “I’ll make up that spare bed.” 

“You do that. I’ll clean up the mess he made.” 

He dips his chin and squeezes past you, so close you feel a tug in your skirt. You wait until you hear him on the stairs before you move. You go to the linen cabinet and take out some new sheets. 

You make up the bed, crawling over it to tug a corner tight. You don’t often have company. A whistle cuts through the air and you quickly back up off the bed, embarrassed at having your bum right up in the air. The sheriff leans in the doorway, grinning. 

“That’s a nice skirt. Fits ya real good,” he purrs. 

“Thank you, sheriff. All done,” you sniff and fix the collar of your blouse. 

“Now, you hear anything, be sure to come get me. It’s a big house, ain’t it?” 

“Yes, sheriff. I will.” You near the door but he doesn’t move. 

“If’n ya scared, you can always bunk with me,” he raises his brows and licks his lips. 

“I’m alright, sheriff. I hope you sleep well.” 

“You too,” he finally moves, just inside the door frame. “Sweet dreams.” 

“Yes, good night, sir,” you scurry out. 

“I know I’ll be havin’ nice dreams,” he slithers. 

🥧

You’re restless. Sleep doesn’t come easy as the winds whistle and the panes shake in the window frames. It’s more than that keeping you awake. 

The sheriff’s just on the other side of that wall. Sleeping, but still there. It was only ever you and your  daddy. Company feels strange. 

You toss and turn. You roll around enough to agitate your bladder. You sigh. You won’t sleep with the urgency pressing. You get up and tiptoe to the door. 

You go into the hall and creep down the bathroom. You close yourself in and flip on the light. The release is not much of a relief. You’re tense and uneasy. You wash your hands quickly and open the door. Your hand pauses before the light switch as a shadow greets you. 

You yipe at the sheriff as he stands in only his white briefs and undershirt. He yawns and scours you with he droopy eyes. His lifts his head and bats away the sleepiness. 

You hug yourself. Your nightgown feels thinner under his gaze. He presses his hand to his chest and hums. 

“Funny runnin’ into ya. Lookin’ mighty scrumptious, ain’t ya?” He drawls. 

You clasp your hands over the neckline of your nightie, “sheriff, I was just--” 

“What was you doin’?” He leans in, his hand on the door frame. “Was you thinkin’ of something fun?” 

“No, sir, just had to... go.” 

“Mm, mm, mm,” he looms over you, “you wasn’t thinkin’ of openin’ my door, was ya? Sneakin’ into the bed, keepin’ warm?” His eyes drift down to your chest and the fabric bristles against your hard nipples, “cold in here.” 

“No, sir, I wouldn’t--” 

“You wouldn’t? Is it ‘cause you such a good girl, hm? You tellin’ me a girl like you ain’t been with no boys?” 

“Sheriff?” You nearly shriek. 

“Well, look ya, baby girl,” he growls and lumbers closer, backing you into the bathroom. “You’re mighty fine. Might fine.” He grabs your hips and pens you in. “Any man’d be lucky to get you.” 

“Sheriff,” you whimper and push against his chest. “Please, I’m tired. I want to go back to bed.” 

“Why? You gonna go hide and touch yourself? Gonna think of me?” 

Is this a nightmare? It’s too distorted not to be. 

“I don’t do that, sir.” 

“You don’t?” 

“N-no, sir, and I don’t want to talk about that--” 

“You should,” he growls. “You should try it least once. Know what ya like.” 

“Please,” your voice quavers. “You’re scarin’ me.” 

“I’m scarin’ ya? How so, baby girl? You know I wouldn’t hurt ya.” He sucks his teeth. “I’d be real gentle.” 

You nearly choke. Silence curdles as you stare at him in horror. You know what he means. He’d be gentle while he—while you-- 

You push him and elbow by him. Horror keeps you moving. You won’t look back. You can’t. He chuckles. 

“Y’ain’t got now humour, you youngins,” he taunts.  

You get to your door as the trickle of his stream hits the toilet water. The door is open, shining into the hallway. He’s so blatant, so unafraid, you can’t help but wonder what you did to encourage him. 

🥧

You spend the rest of the night awake, watching the door. You don’t think Bodecker would let himself in but you also never expected him to corner you like he did. Each time you close your eyes, you see his. That shine in them; that darkness. 

No, he wouldn’t do anything. He was just messing with you. Your daddy always says he has a strange sense of humour. 

You can’t lay in bed all day. Even if you want to hide. After last night, you have to make sure your daddy is okay. 

You make yourself get up and get dressed. You don’t hear the sheriff. You sneak to the bathroom to go through your usual routine then emerge at last, ready but not. 

You go to your daddy’s door and knock. He doesn’t answer. You don’t expect he would. Especially after last night. 

Hinges creak and you lock up. You knock again. You should just go in. 

“Mmph, baby girl, you’re awake?” Bodecker says. 

You turn, pressing your back to the door. “Just checking on daddy.” 

“Such a good girl,” he is unkempt as he emerges. 

Again, he has only his briefs and his undershirt. Now that it’s brighter, you’re agape to notice the tightness in his lower half, the tension of fabric draw over his... part. You keeps your eyes up. A shake of hair juts up and his eyes are puffy with fatigue. 

“I’ll just have a look then go start breakfast,” you say. 

“Now, now, baby girl,” he charges toward you, “you go and start now. I’ll see to the old man.” He drags his knuckles up and down your arm. “I dreamt of you.” 

You blink, “you did?” 

“Sure did, but don’t compare to the real thing. Can’t,” he grins. “You got bacon? I like bacon.” 

“Yes, sheriff,” you gulp and back away. “Thanks uh... for checking him. But, er, he gets real mean in the mornings.” 

“All the better I should deal with him.” 

You sidle away, cautious. You turn at the stares and keep yourself from barreling down. You stop at the bottom to gather your wits. He’s not going to hurt you. He’s playing around. 

You go into the kitchen and get started. Eggs, bacon, bread. You light the stove and a hear a thumping. You pause and listen to the house. You hope your daddy isn’t causing too much trouble for the sheriff. 

That noise comes again. You only realise then it’s not upstairs, it’s the front door. You leave the pan on the burner and go into the entry way. You open the door sheepishly and peek out. It’s that man from the day before. The one that carried your bag. How’d he find you? 

He says your name and smiles. His brown eyes are warm and deep. You blink at him. 

“He-hello,” you murmur. “What, er... Arvin?” 

“You remember. Yeah, I was just passin’ by and I saw the cruiser out front.” 

“Huh? You mean—you need the police?” You ask. 

“No, no, I can take care of myself. I was just... concerned. Thought maybe you were in need of help.” 

“No, um, but... how... how did you know I'd be here?” 

“Yesterday, when I walked ya. I could go until I was sure you were back safe,” he explains. “That’s all. Long as you’re good, I'm good.” 

“Oh, uh...” 

“Who’s that then?” Bodecker asks as he comes down the stairs heavily. 

You wince and back up. You can’t close the door, that would be rude, but you don’t know that you should let the sheriff know that this man followed you home. 

“Sheriff?” Arvin calls through. “That you?” 

Bodecker sighs and comes down. You’re thankful he put his pants on at least. He grabs the door and rips it out of your grasp. You shuffle aside. 

“Russell, whatcha botherin’ her for?” 

“Not bothering, sir,” Arvin grins. “I was just confirming our planes. She’s comin’ with me to the soda shop this afternoon and I was making sure she don’t forget.” 

The sheriff growls. “Is that so?” 

“Sure it is,” Arvin sets his stance. “Gonna get her a cherry soda float. Right?” 

He looks at you. You don’t know what to say or do. If you say no, then you have to explain that you led him back here. Plus you’d have to reject Arvin and he’s been so nice. If you say yes then... then you have to go out with him and you don’t know him very well. 

“Yes,” you eke out. “Yes, I like cherry.” 

“Well, it’s not even eight in the mornin’ so you be off, boy,” Bodecker swings the door shut and faces you. “Where’s that bacon at?” 

[sincerelyourangel]

what even is this genre of man? humble farmer dude who is genuinely good and confident, and his only flaw is probably like his cigarette addiction?

[thollandsgirl2013]

𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐈𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐬*

Parings → Arvin Russell x Reader

Warnings → Smut !! 18+ unprotected sex, fingering

Summary → Arvin and you enjoy a lakeside picnic, followed by skinny dipping and an intimate moment together.

(gif not mine)

The sun was high in the sky, casting a warm golden glow over the secluded lake in the woods. The gentle breeze rustled the leaves, creating the perfect backdrop for a quiet afternoon picnic. You and Arvin had decided to escape the town for a bit, just the two of you, no interruptions, no distractions—just peace.

After enjoying the sandwiches you packed and some light gossip about the people in town, you turned to look at him. Arvin was lying back, one arm behind his head, his blue eyes focused on the calm water in front of you both. He looked so at ease, the tension he usually carried melting away in this quiet, hidden spot.

You smirked, a playful idea forming in your head. "Wanna get in the water?"

Arvin glanced over at you, raising an eyebrow. "I didn't bring no extra clothes, babe. I don’t wanna get wet and have to walk back soaked," he chuckled, his southern accent making his voice sound even more relaxed.

You leaned in closer to him, your grin growing wider. "Who said anything ‘bout gettin’ clothes wet?"

Before he could respond, you stood up, your fingers already working on the buttons of your blouse. Arvin’s eyes widened as he realized what you were doing, and his jaw dropped. His gaze followed your movements as you casually stripped out of your clothes, piece by piece, until you were standing completely naked in front of him.

He sat up quickly, speechless, his eyes roaming over your body, taking in the sight of you with a mix of awe and disbelief. "Ya… ya’r…" He stumbled over his words, his cheeks flushing slightly as he stared at you.

You laughed softly, a teasing gleam in your eyes. "Come on, Arvy!" You winked at him before turning and running toward the water, your laughter echoing in the quiet woods. Without a second thought, you dove into the lake, the cool water instantly refreshing against your warm skin.

When you resurfaced, you wiped the water from your face and turned to look at Arvin. He was still sitting on the picnic blanket, frozen in place, wide-eyed, and slack-jawed. "Ya comin' or what?" You called out with a grin, splashing water in his direction.

He blinked a few times, finally snapping out of his daze. "Ya’r somethin' else, ya know that?" He muttered, shaking his head in disbelief, but there was a grin tugging at his lips. Without wasting another second, he stood up and began stripping, his movements quick but purposeful.

His shirt came off first, revealing his toned chest and arms, followed by his jeans and boxers. You couldn’t help but admire the sight of him—his muscles, the way his tanned skin glowed under the afternoon sun. Your heart raced as you watched him undress, and when he finally dove into the water and swam over to you, you were already feeling a thrill run through your veins.

"So... we’re skinny dippin’ now?" He asked, his voice low and teasing as he approached you, the water rippling around him.

You smiled, biting your lip playfully. "Why not? It’s nice, don’t ya think?"

Arvin's hands found your waist as he pulled you closer, his touch gentle but firm. "I like this side of ya," he murmured, his voice full of admiration as he leaned in to kiss you softly.

You blushed, your heart fluttering at his words. "What side is that?" You asked, your voice barely above a whisper as your lips hovered close to his.

"The confident, carefree side," he whispered against your mouth before capturing your lips in a soft, lingering kiss. His hands slid down to your hips, holding you in place as your bodies pressed together in the cool water.

You kissed him back eagerly, your fingers tangling in his wet hair as the kiss deepened. His lips were soft, moving against yours with a slowness that made your heart race. When you finally pulled away, you were both breathless, and you couldn’t help the shy smile that spread across your face.

"You make me feel like I can be myself," you admitted quietly, your cheeks flushed, not just from the kiss but from the way he was looking at you—with so much love and adoration.

Arvin’s eyes softened at your words, and he kissed your forehead, his arms tightening around you. "You ain’t gotta be anyone else, darlin'. I love you just the way you are."

You felt your heart swell with warmth, and you rested your head against his chest for a moment, just enjoying the sound of his heartbeat.

After a few minutes of splashing around and playfully chasing each other through the water, you both decided to get out and relax on the picnic blanket. The sun warmed your skin as you lay side by side, still naked, your bodies drying off in the gentle breeze.

But it seemed like Arvin had other plans than just relaxing.

You felt his fingers ghosting over your skin, starting with a soft touch on your arm, then slowly trailing down to your stomach. His touch was light, almost teasing, and it sent a shiver down your spine.

"Arvin..." you whispered, your breath catching as his fingers brushed against your waist, then moved up to cup your breast gently.

He didn’t say anything, just leaned over you and pressed a soft kiss to your neck, right where your pulse was racing. His lips lingered there, warm and firm against your skin, and you couldn’t stop the soft moan that escaped your lips.

"Ya'r so damn gorgeous," he whispered against your neck, his voice hushed as if he were sharing a secret with you. The warmth of his breath sent shivers down your spine, igniting every nerve ending in your body. His lips traveled lower, kissing along your collarbone, the gentle caress of his mouth igniting a fire within you. He took his time, savoring every inch of you, teasing until you were squirming beneath him, unable to contain the soft whimpers that escaped your lips.

“Arvin,” you gasped, your hands gripping the blanket, clenching it tightly as his mouth continued its slow, torturous descent. His kisses were deliberate, each one like a feather, igniting heat wherever he touched. He traced the curves of your breasts, his lips soft yet demanding, teasing your sensitive skin until you were breathless, wanting more.

As he took one of your nipples in his mouth, his tongue swirling around the sensitive peak, you arched your back, your body instinctively craving his touch. The warmth of his mouth, combined with the gentle suction, sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, making you gasp and moan softly.

Arvin's hands traveled down your sides, fingers trailing along your skin, leaving a path of tingling sensation in their wake. His lips left your breasts and returned to your neck, kissing and sucking, leaving faint red marks that would remind you of this moment long after. The possessiveness in his touch, the way he marked you, made your heart race.

His fingers found their way between your legs, gently parting your thighs as he explored your softness. The feel of his fingers against your warm skin sent another jolt of desire through you. He literally played with your folds, his touch both teasing and tender, and you couldn’t help but moan as he pressed his finger on your clit, rubbing you slowly, expertly.

“Ya like that?” He murmured against your skin, his voice low and teasing, making you feel exposed yet utterly cherished. You nodded, unable to form words.

Arvin's fingers teased you slowly, their warmth sending jolts of anticipation through your body. With a deliberate slowness, he pushed one finger inside you, and a soft moan escaped your lips as you instinctively clenched around him. The sensation was electric, igniting a fire within you that left you breathless.

Encouraged by your reaction, he slid in another finger, stretching you further. He moved his fingers with a rhythmic precision, driving you wild as he expertly found the sweet spot that made you gasp and arch your back.

His thumb found its way to your sensitive bud, rubbing in gentle circles that sent waves of pleasure coursing through you. The combination of his fingers curling and thrusting inside you while his thumb worked you expertly left you on the brink of ecstasy. Each movement was calculated, designed to make you squirm beneath him, and you could feel the heat pooling low in your belly as he continued to push you closer to the edge.

“Arvin…” you breathed, your voice trembling with pleasure. The sound of his name on your lips seemed to fuel him, his eyes darkening with desire as he watched you unravel beneath his touch.

“Ya’r so fuckin' beautiful like this,” he murmured, his voice low and husky, filled with raw need as he watched you calm down from your high. Arvin pulled his finger out and licked them clean before kissing you.

He’s body pressed down on you with a familiar weight, his dark eyes smoldering as they locked onto yours after he pulled away from the kiss. There was only a raw, consuming desire that had you both breathless before he even entered you. His hand gripped your thigh, pulling you closer, his fingers pressing into your skin, like claiming you. Without a word, he nudged himself against your enterence, rubbing his tip along you in a slow, teasing rhythm, the friction making you gasp.

“Ya want this?” He murmured, his voice a deep, raspy whisper that sent a shiver through you.

“Yes,” you breathed out, your fingers threading through his hair and pulling him closer, urging him on.

He smirked, the look in his eyes darkening with a familiar intensity. “Good,” he said, before pushing into you in one smooth, steady motion. The feeling of him filling you so completely made you moan loud, and you arched up to meet him, wrapping your legs around his waist as he began to move.

“Fuck, you feel so fuckin' perfect,” he groaned, his voice low and raw, each thrust deliberate and forceful. His hands gripped your hips tightly, holding you in place as he drove into you with an intensity that sent waves of pleasure through your body. He watched your every reaction, taking in every gasp, every arch, every breathless moan that escaped your lips.

You matched his pace, meeting each of his movements with a hungry urgency, the air between you thick with heat and desire. His lips crashed onto yours, rough and demanding, his hands never loosening their grip as he pressed you harder against him.

“Fuck, Arvin!” You gasped, barely able to find your voice between the sounds he was pulling from you.

“Say it again,” he moaned against your neck, his breath hot against your skin. He thrust deeper, pushing you to your limits, his name spilling from your lips in a broken moan. His response was a low growl, his pace quickening, each movement more intense than the last, his body pressing into yours in perfect rhythm.

“Can’t fuckin' get enough of ya,” he groaned, his words punctuated by rough kisses along your jaw, his fingers digging into your skin in a way that left no question of his need for you.

The tension built quickly, your bodies moving together in sync as he pushed you both closer to the edge. His eyes held yours, a fierce, burning look that sent another surge of heat through you. And as you finally reached that peak, trembling beneath him, he held you tightly, his own release following right after you as he buried himself deep in you, a low groan rumbling from his chest.

When it was over, Arvin didn’t pull away immediately, instead keeping you close, his breathing heavy, his forehead pressed to yours as he caught his breath. His hand moved to stroke your hair, his touch surprisingly tender after the intense passion you’d just shared, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Ya’r mine,” he said softly, his voice a little rough but full of certainty. And the way he looked at you in that moment, fierce and unrelenting, left no room for doubt.

Arvin slowly pulled out, a quiet groan escaping his lips as he settled beside you, immediately wrapping his arms around you and pulling you against his chest. You both lay there, tangled together on the blanket, your breathing still unsteady, hearts beating in sync as the last light of the day painted the world in hues of amber and gold.

You felt his fingers tracing lazy patterns along your back, his touch gentle in the afterglow. The warmth of his skin, the scent of him, so familiar and comforting, made you sink deeper into his embrace. He pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead, his lips brushing against your hairline in a way that made you smile, feeling utterly content.

The sun had dipped lower, casting long shadows around you, the trees whispering softly in the breeze. You looked up at him, meeting his eyes, a playful glint there as he tucked a stray hair behind your ear. “Think the whole forest heard ya,” he teased, his voice still a little rough, his grin boyish and mischievous.

You rolled your eyes, nudging him lightly. “Oh, like ya’r one to talk. Ya were loud too.”

He chuckled, pulling you even closer, his arm wrapping around your shoulders as he pressed another kiss to your temple. “Yeah, maybe. Just couldn’t help it,” he admitted softly, his voice dropping, “not with ya.”

A comfortable silence fell over you both, the quiet of the woods wrapping around you like a cocoon. The sky above had begun to shift to soft pinks and purples, the sun slipping further below the horizon. You nestled into him, resting your head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

After a moment, Arvin spoke, his voice thoughtful. “Ya know, I could stay here forever… Just us. Nothin' else matters.”

You tilted your head to look at him, feeling the weight of his words and the warmth of his gaze. “Me too,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. "It’s just us here—like our own little world.”

He smiled, brushing his thumb gently along your cheek. “Guess that makes ya my world, then,” he murmured, his eyes softening as he looked at you with a tenderness that made your heart swell.

You felt a warmth spread through you, deeper than anything physical, and you reached up, cupping his face, letting your thumb trace the line of his jaw. “And ya’r mine, Arvin,” you whispered back, sealing the words with a soft, lingering kiss.

As you lay there, tangled together on the blanket, the sun setting behind the trees, you couldn’t help but smile. It had been the perfect afternoon, just you and Arvin, in your little corner of the world.

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

[darkmasterlistyouneveraskedfor]

The Backwoods AU

A Special Sort of Craving (Lloyd Hansen, The Gray Man)

The Detour (Thor, MCU)

The Stranger (Chris, Destroyer)

Forget-Me-Not (Loki, MCU)

The Farmer’s Daughter (Walter Marshall, Night Hunter)

The Rebound (Curtis Everett, Snowpiercer)

Second Best (Lee Bodecker, The Devil All the Time)

Crossed Wires (Andy Barber, Defending Jacob & Cole Turner, Ghosted)

Daddy Lesson (Rafe Cameron, OBX, Outer Banks)

All Things End (Arvin Russell, The Devil All the Time)

THTH (Ransom Drysdale, Knives Out)

Called To Duty (Captain Syverson, Sand Castle)

Unmanageable (Pete Brenner, Pain Hustlers)

A Place in the Sun (Nick Fowler, The 355)

[k-nayee]

Saints and Sinners Devil All The Time

wc: 3.9k a/n: Song Inspiration: Take Me To Church by Hozier; recommend you listen while reading!!

Traveler M.List

ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ

The heat clung to Arvin like a second skin, the late afternoon sun turning the school parking lot into a sweltering wasteland.

He stood next to his truck with a cigarette hanging from his lips, the brim of his cap casting a shadow over his eyes as he waited for Lenora—something he did every day, watching the doors of the school for her figure to appear.

His patience was wearing thin, the relentless humidity weighing on him, but he didn’t dare leave without her.

Not here. Not in this town.

His eyes scanned the yard, and that’s when he saw it: Lenora, standing off to the side, clutching her books like a shield.

She was surrounded by a trio of girls, their voices sharp and mean, cutting thick through the hot air.

Arvin could see the way she shrunk, trying to make herself smaller as their words slicing into her without mercy.

A surge of protectiveness flared—the same way he always did when someone threatened her,

He flicked his cigarette to the ground, stomping it out with a curse under his breath.

Just as he was about to intervene when you appeared, striding through the dust and heat with the kind of confidence that turned heads and stopped conversations.

You walked right into the middle of the scene unbothered by the sneers and whispers thrown your way.

“Didn’t think she’d need a slut to protect her,” the leader of the group spat, her posse snickering behind her.

You didn’t even flinch. Cool as ever, you reached into your pocket and pulled out a cigarette, lighting it with a effortless precision that had Arvin mesmerized.

“Slut, huh?” you echoed. There was something almost playful in your tone, like you were amused by her attempt to insult you. “Ain’t that what your boyfriend calls me when I see him?”

The girl’s sneer faltered, her eyes narrowing as she tried to hold her ground. “Wha...what’re you talkin’ about?”

"Your name’s Gina, right?" you asked, exhaling smoke into the humid air.

Gina stiffened, sensing the shift in conversation. "Yeah, why?"

You shrugged, flicking ash off your cigarette and giving her a once-over that made her bristle. "Just something your boyfriend mentioned."

Gina blinked, her face twitching with confusion. "And what the hell's that supposed to mean?!"

"You know you're cuter than I expected," ignoring her question you blew smoke into her face, making her take a step back. "Then again, don’t remember much he said when his face was buried between my legs."

The other girls gasped as the color drained from Gina’s face. She opened her mouth, but she struggled to find the words in a sputtering rage.

Arvin, caught between surprise and amusement, couldn’t stop the choked chuckle that escaped his throat.

His sudden sound made everyone turn, including you.

Your eyes landed on Arvin, still smirking as if you’d known he was watching the whole time.

Gina, humiliated and seething, took the chance to storm off with her friends trailing behind her.

"You...you disgusting WHORE!" she screeched over her shoulder, her voice cracking in anger.

You didn’t miss a beat. “Funny, that’s not what your boyfriend was saying,” you called after her, your voice dripping with mock sweetness. “Ate me up quicker than a sundae in July!”

Arvin shook his head in disbelief as the trio disappeared from sight, trying (and failing) to suppress his grin.

He glanced back toward you and Lenora, who was still clutching her books like a lifeline, her face flushed with embarrassment.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Lenora murmured, her voice soft, full of gratitude but laced with worry. “People already—"

"—talk about me?" you cut in with a shrug, flicking the cigarette butt to the ground and crushing it beneath your boot.

“Don't worry 'bout it Bible Thumper.” Your tone was playful, the nickname clearly something affectionate between you and her.

You lift your chin, gesturing toward Arvin’s truck. "Looks like your ride’s here."

Lenora gave you a small smile, casting a final glance at the ground as she shuffled over to the truck.

Arvin hadn’t moved though. He was still standing there, watching you.

You were dressed in a tight, low-cut top and a short skirt that hugged your curves—clothing considered vulgar by small-town southern standards, especially for 1965.

The bright red bandana you had tied in your hair made you look even more rebellious, standing out like a beacon among the pastel dresses and modest cardigans the other girls wore.

Then there was the fact your brown skin was a rarity in Knockemstiff, Ohio. The town wasn’t overtly racist, but had an undercurrent of prejudice was always lingering like smoke in the air.

You raise an eyebrow at him, catching him staring. "Got a problem with your vision church boy?"

Arvin flushed, realizing he’d been caught.

"No, uh... no problem," he muttered, fumbling with the brim of his cap before awkwardly tipping it in your direction and stumbling back toward the truck.

Lenora was already in the passenger seat, her wide eyes watching the exchange with mild curiosity.

He shot you a final glance before getting behind the wheel, hands gripping the steering wheel tighter than necessary.

As the truck rumbled to life Arvin couldn’t help but steal one last look at you in the rearview mirror.

You were leaning against the side of the building with another lit cigarette, your form growing smaller as the truck rolled away.

The road stretched out in front of him but his mind lingered behind.

It wasn’t until a few miles down the road did Arvin work up the nerve to ask, “That girl...back there. She, uh...you know her?”

Lenora didn’t look up, instead trained on the frayed strap of her bag that she was nervously fidgeting with.

“Her name’s ____,” she said, her voice soft with fondness. “She’s been helpin’ me. You know, with the girls at school.”

Arvin frowned, his grip tightening on the steering wheel. “Helpin’ you? Didn’t seem like the kind of person who—”

Lenora snapped her head towards him, eyes fierce. “You don’t know her, Arvin.”

“She’s good!” She continued, more certain, like she needed to make it clear before he could form any more judgments. “She’s not what people think.”

Arvin raised an eyebrow, giving Lenora a sidelong glance. He wanted to believe her, but it didn’t add up—not with what he’d heard, not with what he’d seen of you.

“Doesn’t even come to church,” he tries.

Lenora shrug, facing the window. “Doesn’t make her bad Arvin. Jesus loved Mary Magdalene, didn’t he?”

The statement hit him harder than he expected. He wasn’t sure why, but the comparison lingered.

Lenora, despite being the town’s purest soul, seemed to see something in you that no one else did.

“Mary Magdalene,” he muttered, as if testing the words on his tongue.

“Mary was a sinner, wasn’t she? A woman with a reputation. Jesus showed her love and forgiveness. He saw her for who she really was, not what people thought of her.” She paused, her eyes back on her lap. “I think ____ is a lot like that.”

Arvin fell silent. He had grown up hearing stories of redemption, how Jesus saw past sins to the heart beneath.

It was one thing to hear those stories in church—to recite scripture and praise, but to apply it to someone like you? Could it be that simple?

He thought about the way you had stood in that parking lot and how you defended Lenora without hesitation.

You did cared about the insults thrown. You didn't falter when they spat the word slut in your face.

Then there was Lenora, tucked behind you, her wide-eyed innocence protected by someone the town swore was trouble.

Arvin didn’t know what to think. Part of him—the part raised under his grandmother’s strict moral code—wanted to reject it, to cling to the safety of what he’d always been taught.

People like you with a reputation weren’t to be trusted. They were trouble. They’d drag you into the dirt with them if you weren’t careful.

But another part of him couldn’t stop thinking about you.

The way you had looked at him, with that teasing smile like you knew something he didn’t. Like you weren’t afraid of him, or the town, or anything.

There was something so free about you, so untouchable...and it was dangerous.

It stirred something deep in him, something that had nothing to do with right or wrong.

“I don’t know,” he muttered finally, more to himself than to Lenora. “Just seems like the kind of person you shouldn’t be hangin’ around with.”

Lenora’s head snapped up at that. “I mean what would Grandma Emma say?” he added quickly, trying to justify his hesitation.

He didn’t want to sound like he was being overprotective, but the thought of Lenora getting caught up in your world—it didn’t sit right.

“She knows,” Lenora said, her voice surprisingly firm. “She doesn’t like it, but... she lets me. Because she knows that ____ is kind. She helped me, Arvin. No one else stood up for me the way she did.”

Now that stopped him cold.

If Grandma Emma with all her devoutness and strict adherence to Christian values could allow Lenora to be around you, then maybe...maybe there was more to you than what he thought.

Arvin glanced at Lenora then back at the road. The thought gnawed at him, your image lingering in the back of his mind like a half-formed idea he couldn’t quite grasp.

He was caught between two worlds—his grandmother’s moral code and the inexplicable draw you had over him.

Temptation, that’s what it was. Plain and simple.

It didn’t feel simple. It felt heavy, he wasn’t used to feeling that pull,

But maybe Lenora was right. Maybe, just like Mary Magdalene, you were more than what people said.

Maybe he’d been too quick to judge.

The drive home was quieter than usual, each of them lost in their own thoughts.

════════════════*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═════════════════

The weeks that followed your encounter with Arvin in the parking lot slipped by slowly, each day dragging with the heavy heat of summer.

You had begun to linger in his thoughts, creeping into his mind in the quiet moments when he least expected it.

He noticed you more now. At first, it was accidental—a glance here or there when he’d pick up Lenora from school or drive through town.

Sometimes you’d offer him a nod, a faint smirk playing at the corner of your lips as if you knew exactly what you were doing to him.

You didn’t go to church, not like the rest of them.

Every Sunday without fail he'd catch you: leaning casually against the brick wall near the chapel as you waited for service to end.

It was one Sunday, Arvin stood with Lenora under the oak tree by the steps, half-listening to her talk about something from the sermon.

His eyes drifted across the street, scanning the quiet neighborhood out of habit—and there you were.

The sun caught the edge of your dress, and for a second, you looked like something out of place. Not of this town, not of its rules or restrictions.

Like you were from another world entirely.

Without thinking, his gaze lingered too long, and you caught him. Your eyes locked onto his, and for a split second, Arvin felt that strange tightening in his chest.

Embarrassment crawled up his throat, but you didn’t look away. Instead you smiled—the corners of your lips curling up as if you’d expected him to be watching.

He swallowed hard, quickly glancing back to Lenora who was still talking, completely unaware of the silent exchange.

He tried to brush it off—told himself it didn’t mean anything. But the feeling of being seen by you, noticed in that way, was something new.

The feeling stayed with him long after you were gone.

In the weeks that followed he caught himself looking for you more often. He’d spot you from a distance, sometimes walking by the side of the road as he drove by in his truck.

Your posture was always casual, unbothered. Your dress would sway with your movements, your hips rolling in a way that defied everything about this small, stifling town.

There was nothing modest or demure about you, and Arvin couldn’t stop looking.

And whenever you catch him staring, that same smirk tugged at your lips before you’d nod in acknowledgment.

At night, when the house was quiet and everyone was long asleep, Arvin would lie awake, your image burning in his mind.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He wasn’t supposed to think about you.

His grandmother’s sermons about temptation played on a loop in his head, warnings about sin and damnation ringing out in her voice.

But you weren’t just a temptation; you were kind to Lenora, protective even. Arvin had seen it, the way you stood by her side without expecting anything in return.

People called you all kinds of names, painted you as something to be avoided, but none of that matched the way you were with her. It didn’t make sense.

As for Lenora, she spoke more often of you now. She adores you—admire even. That always struck Arvin as odd.

There were days when Lenora would beg you to join her in the woods, sitting under the trees while she read aloud from her Bible.

You were nothing like the type of person he imagined Lenora would fall in line with, but then again, Lenora was far more forgiving than anyone in Knockemstiff.

She defended you like she had something to prove, telling him how you’d been helping her and that people didn’t know the real you.

════════════════*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═════════════════

The afternoon sun was beginning to sink lower in the sky as you and Lenora walked toward the Russell home.

You’d just finished leaving the woods, her familiar chatter filling the silence between you.

Lenora (ever the sweetheart), had invited you in, mentioning that it was Arvin’s birthday and they were planning a small dinner to celebrate.

Knowing the town’s judgment followed you wherever you went, especially in public spaces like the Russell home, you turn it down.

It wasn't until you saw Lenora’s broken expression did you hesitate. Before you knew it, you were walking up the steps with her.

You didn't plan on staying long, just until dinner started.

The idea of sitting down for a family meal, especially at the Russell home, wasn’t exactly something you were comfortable with.

As soon as you stepped inside, the scent of warm bread and mixing chatter of the Russell family greeted you.

Grandma Emma was in the kitchen, her back straight as she prepared dinner. She gave you a brief, suspicious glance when you entered with Lenora.

Earskell seemed to take an immediate liking to you. He was lounging in his chair by the living room window with a grin spread across his face, looking entirely too relaxed.

Arvin stood near the doorway. His hands were shoved deep in his pockets, clearly caught off guard by your presence.

For a moment, the room froze. Your eyes met his and the tension was immediate.

You hadn’t been this close to him since that day at the school, and it was clear he hadn’t expected you here—certainly not for something as intimate as a family dinner.

His gaze flickered over you. It was more modest than usual, a subtle nod to Emma’s old-fashioned ways.

With a black knee-length skirt, your light-colored blouse clung to your shoulders, the neckline dipping low enough to be daring in this town.

Arvin’s eyes traced the curve of your collarbone, his throat tightening at the sight.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” Arvin muttered, low voice barely hiding the nervous tint beneath it.

You gave him a slow teasing smile, your eyes glinting with amusement as you stepped forward.

“Didn’t expect to be here either. Hope ya don't mind birthday boy,” you replied, the words rolling off your tongue with a soft lilt that made Arvin shift on his feet.

Earskell watched with a grin, clearly enjoying every second of the interaction.

Blissfully unaware of the tension swirling around the room, Leanora hurried back to the kitchen when Grandma Emma called for her, leaving you and Earskell alone with Arvin.

“Well, well, well. If it ain't miss ____." Earskell drawled, his voice carrying a hint of Southern charm laced with mischief. “Didn’t think we’d have such fine company tonight. Sure do brighten up the place.”

You grinned at that, makin your way to sit on the couch next to his chair, arms casually crossed. “You flatterin’ me old man?”

Earskell barked a laugh, eyes twinkling. “Just callin’ it like I see it. Ain’t often we get someone who can keep up with me.”

“You ain’t wrong about that,” you shot back, your voice low and teasing, the crassness in your tone catching Lenora by surprise as she returned from the kitchen. “Though I’m not sure your nephew here knows what to make of it.”

Arvin tensed visibly, his ears burning red at the way the conversation seemed to be shifting toward him.

He stayed quiet most of the time, barely able to meet your gaze. And now, with his uncle egging you on, he felt like a rabbit caught in a trap.

“Boy’s always been a quiet one,” Earskell said, waving a hand dismissively. “But I reckon he’ll come around, especially with someone like you lightin’ up the room.”

Arvin shot his uncle a sharp look, his face flushing even deeper. “Earskell,” he muttered, warning in his tone.

“Ain’t no need to be shy, boy,” he teased, leaning in as if sharing a secret. “Not every day a pretty girl walks through that door, is it?”

You couldn’t help but chuckle, giving Arvin a sideways glance, watching him squirm. He was trying so hard to keep his cool, but the flush on his neck and the way his hands fidgeted gave him away.

“Don’t worry, I won’t bite,” you say to him before giving a flutter of your lashes. “Unless you ask.”

Arvin’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, the tension in the room thickening for just a moment.

He couldn’t bring himself to respond, instead opting to drop into his chair at the far end of the couch, avoiding your gaze entirely.

The older man didn’t miss a beat, clearly delighted by your banter.

“Now don’t go thinkin’ you can outtalk me, girl,” Earskell said, leaning forward in his chair with a grin. “I’ve got years of experience on ya.”

“I ain’t scared of a little experience,” you replied with a smirk, flicking your eyes over to Arvin long enough to catch him glancing away.

He was practically squirming now, clearly unsure of how to handle the banter and the easy way you seemed to command the room despite barely trying.

You stood after a while, brushing your hands off on your dress and glancing toward the kitchen. “I should get goin’ before dinner’s on. Don’t want to overstay my welcome.”

Earskell laughed, waving a hand. “You’re always welcome here, girl. Don’t let these sour faces fool ya.”

Grandma Emma emerged from the kitchen just in time, wiping her hands on a towel and nodding toward you. “You’re welcome back anytime.”

You gave her a nod, offering a respectful smile despite the subtle weight of judgment that always seemed to hang around Emma.

She wasn’t cruel, not like the others in town, but she was set in her ways—rigid in her moral code.

You appreciated her decency, even if it was accompanied by a thin veil of disapproval.

Earskell leaned back in his chair, grinning as he turned toward Arvin to nudge him. “Why don’t you walk her out boy? Least you can do, seein’ as how she graced us with her presence.”

Arvin flushed at the suggestion, his hands immediately coming out of his pockets as he looked between you and his uncle.

“Uh... sure,” he muttered, the nervousness thick in his voice.

He rose from his seat and awkwardly motion for you to follow him to the door. The walk was short, but every step seemed to stretch out painfully for Arvin.

He could feel your presence next to him, the  faint scent of cigarette smoke and wildflowers clinging to the air.

It was intoxicating, and he cursed the way his skin tingled when your arm brushed lightly against his.

At the door, you turned to face him, your expression softening just a little.

The usual teasing glint in your eyes was still there, but something else had crept—something more intimate, more dangerous.

“Happy birthday,” you say quietly, your voice softer now, as if you didn’t want the rest of the house to hear.

Before he could respond you reach into your bag and pull out a small card, pressing it into his hand.

Your fingers brushed his as you passed it over, the contact sending a jolt through his body.

He stared down at the card, blinking as his mind scrambled to catch up. “What’s this?”

“Just a little somethin’ for later,” you murmured, your eyes locking with his for a heartbeat too long. “Don’t forget to read it.”

Giving him one last smile, you turn and walk out into the fading evening light.

Arvin stood frozen at the door, watching as you disappeared down the dirt road. He could still feel the ghost of your touch on his skin, the weight of the card heavy in his hand.

His heart was pounding, the familiar pull of temptation gnawing at the edges of his resolve.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he glanced down at the card.

His name was written across the front in your neat handwriting. And when he flipped it over, his breath caught in his throat:

Meet me at the abandoned barn by the cornfield.

His mind raced, the invitation clear—undeniable. His heart thudded in his chest, and a small voice in the back of his mind reminded him of all the reasons he shouldn’t go.

All the reasons this was dangerous, reckless. His fingers tightened around the card, and for a brief moment he wondered what the hell he was doing.

But he knew, deep down, that he’d be there.

.*.·:·.☽✧✧☾.·:·.*

The moon hung high in the night sky, casting a silver-blue glow over the fields.

Arvin could hear the sound of his own heartbeat echoing in his ears as he made his way down the narrow dirt path toward the barn, the folded card tucked tightly into his jacket pocket.

He’d read it at least a dozen times since you handed it to him, each glance sparking a new wave of heat that crawled up his spine. 

He should’ve stayed home. He knew that. He’d spent the last few hours after dinner sitting on the porch, wrestling with himself.

When he reached the barn door he stopped just outside.

His grandmother’s warnings about temptation played on repeat in his mind, endless sermons about purity and righteousness and the consequences that came to those who strayed.

It wasn’t just her voice he heard; it was the town’s, too—the collective judgment of the people he’d known his whole life.

They wouldn’t hesitate to condemn him, to call him a fool for even thinking about following you here.

Because no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stop thinking about you

The way you’d looked at him when you handed him the card, the softness in your voice when you wished him a happy birthday.

The memory of it made his heart race and he hated how much he wanted more of that feeling. More of you.

His fingers nervously twitched at his sides as he took a breath, steeling himself before finally stepping inside.

You were already there, waiting for him.

[bumblesimagines]

Our Gentle Sin

Request: Yes or No

Summary: After being left orphaned and adopted by his grandmother, Arvin finds solace in his new sister and discovers a partner in crime in the neighbor down the road.

Pronouns: He/Him/His, M!Reader

CW/TW: Mentions of parents dying, implied/mentioned abusive parents, mentions of religion , mentions of homophobia, mentions of pet/animal death

~~~

Arvin remembered the days after his parents' deaths pretty vividly, even at the young age he'd lost them. He remembered the funeral for his mother and the deathly silent ride back home where he stewed in his anger and grief; unable to brush away the fact all his father's insistent praying and the slaughter of his poor dog had been for nothing. No amount of praying or sacrifices had taken his mother's illness from him, no amount of tears shed brought his best friend back to life.

By the time he led the officer to his father's corpse by the cross out in the woods, his body and heart had grown numb.

The ride to his grandmother and uncle's home had been silent, too. He supposed there was nothing good to say to a boy who'd lost his parents back-to-back. The numbness dulled a little after reuniting with his family and his new sister; Lenora, she was called, presumably an orphan like him. Her mother had dropped her off at his grandmother's home to spend the day out with her husband and his cousin, only to never be seen alive again while her husband and the cousin virtually disappeared. Her sweet smile and glittering eyes won him over soon enough and he vowed to always protect her. 

A couple months after settling into life at his grandmother's house, she had his uncle drive them down the road and across the street to a neighbor's house where one of Lenora's friends lived for a playdate. His grandmother told him about the boy his age who she hoped he'd befriend and coaxed him into giving the boy a try while she caught up with his quiet and timid mother.

Back in Knockemstiff, Arvin had little to no friends since most of the boys always gave him a hard time for being an outsider. In Coal Creek, his grandmother assured him, things would be different. 

While his grandmother and Lenora entered the house, Arvin lingered outside, unsure of what to do with himself as he stared at the boy. (Y/N), he was called. (Y/N) stared back at him, his fingers toying with the laces of his worn shoes and chin propped up on his knee. "You're Arvin?" He finally spoke, lifting his head and squinting through the sunrays. Arvin gave a nod. "Come meet Summer." 

Arvin barely had time to question him on who exactly 'Summer' was before (Y/N) took him by the wrist and led him around the house to the open backyard. His eyes automatically locked on the shabby wooden doghouse, his heart skipping a beat and then filling with longing when a sweet-looking dog poked its head out of the doghouse at the sound of their shoes crunching the leaves scattered around. Summer trotted toward them, her tail wagging and nose pressing so hard into (Y/N)'s shirt that it left a wet imprint behind. 

"Why is she outside?" Arvin asked, his lips threatening to quiver when he pressed his hand into her soft pretty fur. He thought of his Jack and how sweet he'd been, always trailing after him like the good boy he'd been. He remembered the cold night he realized what his father had done and the hatred that'd bubbled up in him. 

"Dad says animals are dirty, and dirty things gotta be kept outside. He doesn't like her very much, I think." (Y/N) explained, rubbing his palm into Summer's head and grinning when she lapped at his chin, her tail wagging quicker than before. 

Arvin decided then and there that he disliked (Y/N)'s father, and as he later learned, the man was a drunk son of a bitch worthy of no respect. 

Time flew by quicker than Arvin expected now that he had Lenora and (Y/N) to keep him company. They were as thick as thieves, vowing to protect and defend each other no matter what. It led to many fights when other boys at school tried picking on them, and they oft' sat at the dinner table while his grandmother scolded them and Lenora tended to their injuries, but it only made them closer. Trouble makers, some called them, but it never mattered. Arvin only grew to realize his feelings had changed when he heard his grandmother teasingly say she could see Lenora and (Y/N) marrying when they got older. 

Arvin had been unable to get her words out of his head since that evening, been unable to decipher why it annoyed him as much as it did. It made sense, in a way. Two kids from the same town growing up together and eventually marrying after high school was a tale as old as time. He wondered if it was simply the idea of his little sister getting hitched or someone stealing away his only companion but only the latter bothered him more than the former. 

"You ever think of the future?" Arvin asked, leaning back against the hood of his car and staring up at the twinkling stars. The car shook lightly when (Y/N) shut the door, leaves crunching under his boots as he made his way around to stand beside him. He clamped his teeth around the cap of a beer bottle in hand, peeling it off and spitting it out onto the ground. 

"The future?" (Y/N) repeated, offering the bottle before taking the cap off his own. "You thinkin' of the future now, Arv?" 

"Grandma was fixin' up dinner with Lenora and, I dunno, she said some things that got me thinkin', I guess," Arvin explained and took a swing of his beer, craning his neck when it began to ache and gazing at his best friend. (Y/N) pressed the rim of the bottle against his bottom lip in thought, eyes staring off into the darkness of the forest around them. Arvin liked watching him. He learned all his quirks and habits that way. 

(Y/N)'s brows fixed. "What'd she say? She mention she wants you out of the house or somethin'? I bet she wants you to get yourself a real pretty wife." (Y/N) laughed, his voice teasing and light-hearted. 

It was true, he supposed. The times his grandmother would talk about his parents, she always ensured to remind him that he needed to 'find himself a good, God-fearing Christian wife who loves him as his mother loved his father.' He'd heard the romantic tale time after time; his father drove through Meade and stopped to get himself a coffee only to end up head over heels for the pretty, generous waitress. His father ignored his grandmother's desire to get him to wed another woman and ultimately won his mother over. In the end, his love for her led to his own demise. 

"She thinks you oughta marry Lenora." 

"Lenora?" (Y/N) repeated, aghast and wide-eyed. "Oh, come on, Arv. I'd never marry Lenora! She's like a sister to me, you know that." He shoved his elbow into Arvin's side and scoffed quietly, filling his mouth with beer and making the car shift when he sat back on the hood. 

"Yeah, yeah, I know." Arvin chuckled, thumb rubbing into the wet glass of his bottle. He caught (Y/N) leaning back to lay on the hood and clicked his tongue, twisting around to warn him about denting the hood only to notice the way (Y/N)'s shirt rode up and exposed the happy trail dipping beneath his jeans. The words died in his throat and he clamped his mouth shut but before he could turn away and take a swing of his beer, the moonlight shone above them and exposed the blossoming bruise peeking out from under his shirt. 

Without thinking twice, Arvin's fingers grasped the hem of his shirt and tugged it upward, ignoring the noise of complaint that escaped (Y/N) when the cold nipped at his newly exposed skin. A hefty bruise just over his rib cage, big and purple and enough to send a wave of fury over Arvin. (Y/N) shoved his hand away and sat up, pushing his shirt back down and stepping away from the car. 

"(Y/N)-"

"I don't wanna hear it." 

"I'm gonna kill him, I swear." Arvin spat, fully meaning his words. He had the means to now that his uncle had recently gifted him a gun that once belonged to his father for his birthday but he never did anything without (Y/N)'s knowledge. (Y/N) chugged the rest of the beer, regret briefly settling in when his features scrunched up before he tossed the bottle aside blindly to be forgotten in the woods. "I could, you know. Unc' got me that gun I showed ya the other day."

"It was a fight, Arv. I got some good punches in, too." (Y/N) sighed. "He was drunk and being a real piece of work over Summer. Said he wanted to sell her n' stuff like that now that she's too old to do anythin' other than sleep." 

"It'd be real easy to get rid of him." Arvin would never admit it aloud, especially around others, but he'd thought about it plenty of times before. A drunk hated by virtually everyone? No one would bat an eye. He doubted the church would even say any prayers for him. "I could do it." 

"Not worth it, Arv."

"Not worth it?" Arvin bristled, his hold on his bottle tightening and his body peeling itself away from the car. (Y/N) barely batted an eye when Arvin grabbed a fistful of his collar, and the blatant trust despite his home life made Arvin's anger simmer down a smidge. "I ain't goin' to sit around a second longer watchin' him be a piece of shit to you and your family." 

"Our sisters are graduatin' soon, remember? By the time graduation comes around mine will be hitched by that little boyfriend of hers and out the house quicker than a fish in water. Ma's never leavin' him, you and I both know that, but I will someday. You and I will do some work, get some money, and make somethin' of ourselves. I'll need you out of prison for that to work, Arv." (Y/N) pursed his lips. "You keep gettin' yourself worked up over nothin'-"

"It ain't nothin' and you know it." Arvin huffed and released his tight hold on (Y/N)'s collar, taking a quick swing of his beer in hopes it'd help calm his racing heart and heated nerves. He inhaled deeply and forced his shoulders to sag when he exhaled, his eyes darting around the darkness until he calmed down and met (Y/N)'s stare. 

"You make a better guard dog than Summer." (Y/N) teased, his smile as calming and pretty as always. 

Being raised the way he was, Arvin heard plenty of religious talk. He'd believed in God once, back when his father imprinted it in his skull that he had to pray otherwise his mother would never heal from her sickness, but any belief died with his parents. He attended church on occasion and kept his mouth mostly shut when his grandmother and sister spoke of the bible and prayer but the belief never rose to full devotion and love like the others. He'd heard plenty of what was sin and what was not; man laying with man being spoken of as if it were the worst sin of all. Arvin could care less if someone loved another of the same sex but he knew little of how (Y/N) felt on the topic. 

"Yeah," He managed out weakly, his eyes snapping upward when he realized he'd been staring. His ears warmed with embarrassment and he drank again, finishing the bottle quicker than expected. "A guard dog bites, though. You never take the damn muzzle off." 

"You ain't got no muzzle, Arv. I got you on a leash, maybe." (Y/N) laughed lightly and Arvin wondered if his mind conjured up the flirtatious tone. "I take good care of you, don't I? Here makin' sure you don't get taken away by animal control." 

"It'd be for good reason-"

"Arv," (Y/N) groaned, lightly shoving his shoulder and lolling his head to the side. "You know I'd never let 'em take you unless I'm comin' too." 

Arvin hummed softly, chewing on the inside of his cheek 'cause despite his desire to get rid of such a filthy stain, where else would he find loyalty as strong as his if he lost him? Apart from his family, he had no one else, and he'd rather die than let anything happen to their friendship. Even if his thoughts plagued him with thoughts about how close they were or how easy it'd be to close the distance.

(Y/N) stared at him silently before exhaling heavily through his nose. "Arv," He said quietly and Arvin hummed again. "Will you keep a secret for me?" 

"'Course."

"Good." (Y/N)'s lips quirked up briefly before his warm hands landed on Arvin's cheeks and tugged him closer. 

Arvin immediately stiffened when they kissed, eyes widening with rigid shock that made him freeze up but his hands flew into action when he felt (Y/N) begin to pull away from him. His hands grabbed onto him, fingers hooking in the belt loops of his jeans and pressing him as closely as possible. Arvin closed the small distance with a kiss rougher than the first, too eager to ensure (Y/N) knew he felt the same but (Y/N) only chuckled and returned the affection just as roughly. 

"You ain't ever leavin' me, right, Arv?" (Y/N) asked breathlessly against his lips.

"Never."

[thollandneedy]

Bellah's Masterlist 🪻

Hey babes! I'm back again, and with another masterlist for now 🤍

(I don't write any kind of stories that might refer to: Pedo; self-mutilation; suicide; incest; sa; substance abuse,cheating; rape; etc.)

You can leave your requests here, and i'll try my best to respond to all of them!

Love ya xoxo

*Smut

Tom Holland 🍵

You can leave the glasses on

Needy*

Only you, my girl. Only you babe

The hot interviewer

Late night notification*

Photobooth

Bed Chem*

Shower

The Scary Movie

The Ghost face mask*

Christmas Tree

Our New Year

Break-up backup

Crawling back to you

You (can)'t have both*

Peter Parker🕸️

Don't Tell 'Em

Princess Leia Situation

Don't you know*

April’s Fool

The homecoming trick

Worthy

Masked*

Burnout

Rainy Dates

Good Girl

Co-pilot

Bet

Truth or Dare

Nathan Drake 🗺️

Fill Up the Room

Money make her smile*

Bunny

Diamonds are forever

Enough

[hollandscure]

Arvin Russell

[itsagentromanoff]

The Devil All the Time (2020)

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

In The Cold

Warnings: non/dubcon, pregnancy, social dejection, mentions of religion, and other dark elements. Not all kinks or triggers are tagged. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Summary: Your Christmas is set to be a lonely one, but you do your best to share the cheer with your only friend.

Character: Arvin Russell

Day Seven of the December Daze Challenge.

Prompt - cottage!core 

Note: As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

The tension is something you’ll never be used to. The silence is as bad as the hushed voices and the sneering side looks. It's all so suffocating. 

So much as you might’ve earned your judgement, it cannot make them righteous. What was it the pastor extolled; ‘let he who be without sin...’ And why is it that the stones they cast are aimed at you and not the man who joined you in your misdeed? The very one who cozened you into the act?  

Henry still sits on the town council, he still goes home to his wife and other children, he still gets a ‘good morning’ or a ‘good day’, and none bat a single eye along the pew. You can’t even get the same from him these days. He’s a stranger now that your dresses are too tight and your gait is wider and wobbly. Now that his adultery has grown inside of you and continues to, he runs from it. 

You pay at the counter for your meagre fare. Janie fired you not long after the minister’s scolding and none-so-subtle remonstrance of straying innocence. Like your mother and father, she abandoned you to your dejection. You would not stain her Christian mantle. 

The shopkeep, Ted, packs up your goods in the bag without a word. He drops your change on the counter and turns away as you gather it up. Despite that, you still thank him. You lift the bag and hug it above your bump. 

You keep your head down as Esther steps up to the counter with her basket. She makes a comment about the holiness of the coming holidays. Of how Jesus’ birthday should be kept sacred. You know she means you to hear but you don’t show that you do. 

You step out into the chilly winds as they swirl around with a gust of powder. You nearly collide with another as you do. The chuckle that comes with the near-catastrophe eases your nerves. In an instant, the weight is scooped out of your arms. 

“There ya’are,” Arvin greets. He’s the only person in town who talks to you.  

In fact, he’s the only reason you have a place to lay your head. He did up his old shed so you could live there for a while. A barter you insisted on. What would people think if you accepted his invitation to stay in the spare room? Surely worse than the already do. He does not deserve to be tainted by you. 

“You all done for the day?” You ask as you keep your arms crossed. 

“Oh yeah,” he answers brightly, “what’d you get? Anything good...” he sniffs the top of the bag, “I smell cinnamon.” 

You chew your lip, “yeah...” 

You glance at him. He wears his fleece lined denim jacket, the collar greyed with age and a button missing on the right chest pocket. It’s not really enough for that kinda cold. Knockemstiff lives up to its name quite often and the winter will be sure to freeze your bones. 

“Sorry, I’m being nosy,” he chuckles. “You want some candy? Got some in my pocket. Mr. Callahan sent them in with Edwin.” 

“Oh, no, I’m okay,” you blow into your woolen mittens. It’s bitter these days. “Um, I was hopin’... I could make ya dinner tonight. Since ya done so much for me. ‘Fraid I don’t got much else to give right now.” 

“That’d be awfully nice,” he accepts with a bounce in his step, “here.” He shifts the weight of the bag into one arm and reaches into his pocket. He pulls out a long shape wrapped in brown paper, the top twisted and tied with ribbon. “Butterscotch.” 

“Arvin, I told ya--” 

“I got lots,” he insists. 

You take it with a thank you. You continue down the packed snow. He’s entirely oblivious to the way Charmain passes with a glare but you feel it in your chest. 

“I was thinking, before the baby comes,” you swallow as the thought bubbles up from the pits of constant dread. “I should leave.” 

“Leave?” He wonders aloud. He looks over at you as snow gathers in his hair, the cold nipping pink his cheeks. He’s two years older than you but looks and seems much younger than you. “Where to?” 

“I got an Aunt a few townships over. She’s the only one still answering my letters. She never had no kids of her own. They all... none of ‘em made it, ya know? I been writing to her and that.” 

“Oh,” his disappointment tweaks in his throat. “Well, you don’t gotta, you know? I don’t mind ya stickin’ ‘round.” 

“I mind. You been so kind already. Once I got the babe, no one gonna take me then neither. No work here, and I’ll be lucky to get a pew on Sundays.” 

“Yeah, well, all these folks be saying they’re godly and how do they act?” His tone edges hotly. “Ain’t godly to turn a soul out. My mama always said so. No soul’ll make it through this world with a dent or two, but the lord’ll forgive.” 

“Mm, she sounds like a nice lady,” you say. 

“She was,” he sniffs. “And so I wouldn’t be puttin’ no shame on her memory by bein’ selfish, ya know? So’s as long as you need it, the shed is yours. I told ya, though, there’s a room inside.” 

“No, no,” you loosen the ribbon and peek inside the paper. The candy stick of twisted sugar is all shades of caramelly brown. You smell it and it plucks at your bottomless hunger. “I don’t mind it. Pa never had the stove goin’ less the snow was past our knees. He always says, if you’re cold, put another sweater on.” 

“Huh,” he scoffs darkly. 

“What?” 

“Yer pa’s the reason you’re in my shed,” he harrumphs. “Sorry for sayin’ it, but I wouldn’t take no advice from a man who’d disown his own blood. He’s the one brought Henry ‘round. They still gettin’ drinks down at the tank.” 

That information is more chilling than the cold. You didn’t know that. You try not to hear things about your father or the man who put this curse in you. 

“I...” he begins crisply, “I’m sorry. I wasn’t gonna tell ya.” 

“Woulda found out soon enough,” you shrug and shove the butterscotch stick in your mouth. You suck on it pensively. It’s sweet but you can hardly enjoy it as your eyes burn with a glaze of tears. 

“So,” he coughs, “what’s for dinner?” 

You pop your lip off the candy, “it’s a surprise,” you say. 

“Oh, I like surprises,” he smiles, not that he ever really stops. Not around you. 

“Well, I hope you like this one,” you drone. 

💝 

You wash the plates from dinner as dessert bakes in the oven. The smell of cinnamon fills the house as you hear Arvin tinkering in the next room. He’s always messing around with something mechanical. You’re not always sure if he’s fixing them or just taking them apart. 

You dry and stack the dishes away. The old house is cozy, quaint. You know it belonged to his parents. It’s still strewn with their memories. As if he’s preserving them in those walls. So you do your best not to disturb it. 

You take the pan out of the oven. The rolled-out dough is perfectly baked and the colour is pristine. The shape resembles their namesake; elephant ears. It’s only dough, sugar, and cinnamon, but so so delicious. Your grandmother used to make them. Despite your current predicament, you’re nostalgic for the simper days. 

You put one on a plate and peek at the doorway. You pause to dig out the parcel you hid under the sink then bring both items out to the front room. You keep the latter behind your back as you approach Arvin. He sits on the floor in front of the burning firestove as he pokes at an old clock with a screwdriver. 

“Here ya go,” you offer him the dessert. “I could make some coffee or tea?” 

“Nah, I’m good,” he puts down the clock and tool, then wipes his hand on the cloth draped over his knee. He reaches up to the take the plate. “Smells good.” He brings the dish down to examine the pastry, “what is it?” 

“Called an elephant ear. Not super fancy.” 

“Looks good,” he grins. “And what’s that?” 

He lifts the baked dough and bites into it as he angles his head as if to see around you. You bring your hand out and present the parcel. 

“Merry Christmas,” you say. “I know it’s not much, and a bit early but it’s gettin’ real cold.” 

He places the plate on the rug and claps his hands off as he chews. His dark eyes sparkle as he takes the bundle wrapped in brown paper. He brings it over his lap and carefully unties the twine. You sway on your feet and rub your stomach as you watch anxiously. 

He uncovers the knitted scarf and cap. He already has thick gloves that he wears for his work. He feels the wool and examines it quietly. You’re suddenly very unsure. 

“You made these? For me?” He looks up. You nod. “Wow, it’s... you lined the cap?” 

“I had a few old pieces I repurposed,” you shrug. 

“It’s...” 

“Not too much. I know. I’m sorry. I don’t make too much these days. People only hire me if no one knows and it’s gettin’ harder to sneak around.” 

He huffs and shakes his head. He lowers his chin and pets the scarf. “It’s everything.” He continues to examine your work. “I hope you don’t mind, my gift’s not ready yet.” 

“Oh, Arvin, you don’t gotta get me nothin’. You done enough.” 

“I want to,” he says. “Now,” he lays down the wool on the rug neatly and grabs his plate. He uncrosses his legs and stands. “Why aren’t you havin’ some dessert? You need to sit down. Let that baby rest. He mustn’t sleep very much with you titterin’ around all the time.” 

“He’s already titterin--” you go to argue and stop with snort. “I think he knows we’re talking about him.” 

You feel your stomach as the baby kicks. Arvin watches your hand on your belly as his brows rise up his forehead. “You think it’s a boy?” 

“Could be. Not too sure. Oof.” You twitch as the baby kicks harder. Then wince again as Arvin puts his hand on you without warning. It’s surprising but not unwelcome. His warmth seeps through your dress. 

“Oh!” He exclaims as the baby beats on your insides. “I can feel him.” 

“It’s a bit early,” you reach back to brace your hips, “he usually waits ‘til I’m in bed.” 

He keeps his hand on you, watching your belly as the baby continues his dance. He seems awestruck by the ripple under your skin. You’re more exhausted of it. 

“I’ll have your present ready soon,” he says. “Promise.” 

💝

Arvin’s truck rumbles up to the house. You were surprised when he drove it into town today. He doesn’t usually start it unless he’s going to fetch firewood or going off for long trips. 

You open the shed door, a blanket around your shoulders as you peek out. His headlights shine through the greyness. It’s still early by your count, unless you lost track again. 

He hops out and stomps through the snow. He waves at you as his hair curls out from under the cap you made him. He wears it every day. You’re happy for that. 

“Merry Christmas,” he calls out. 

“Christmas... it’s still two days away,” you stay behind the door to shield yourself from the winds. 

“Two days!” He claps as he approaches. “Since you gave me my gift early, I got yours ready too.” 

“Mine?” 

“Mmhm. You’re not the only one who can do surprises. So pack a bag.” 

“Pack...” you wonder. 

“Ah, ah, just get a bag, alright?” 

You can see him jittering in excitement. You hate to dampen that but you also feel bad. You made him a hat and scarf. He’s got something planned out that’s gonna at least cost him gas and his time. 

“Oh...” you murmur. 

“Don’t,” he wags a finger. “Really, come on! I wanna get there by dark.” 

“Alright, I’ll be fast.” 

You gently close the door and retreat. You can’t deny him. His words trouble you though. By dark? How far are you going? You don’t want him to do too much. 

You don’t have a lot to take. A few dresses that still fit, some stockings, your sole pair of boots, your coat, and other things just in case. It doesn’t sound like you’ll be coming back tonight. 

You come out in your coat and boots as Arvin keeps the truck idling. He meets you near the hood and takes your bag before he helps you up into the front seat. He gets in the other side and puts your bag between you. 

“Do I get a hint?” You ask. 

“Nope,” he shifts into gear. “Just hold tight.” 

💝

It’s a few hours before Arvin stops. Your eyes scour the sentinel pines all around and fall upon the painted wood of the cabin’s face. The porch pillars are stained a dark blue as the siding stands as white as the snow. It’s only the edgework along the window frames and door that make it visible amid the winterscape. 

You gasp, “Arvin?” 

“Surprise,” he exclaims. 

“What...” 

“My grandfather built this place. Ma’s dad. I been workin’ on it,” he proclaims. 

“Workin’ on it?” 

“Yep! Ma wouldn’t want you raisin’ that boy in a shed.” 

You mull his words and stare at the cabin. “Arvin, my aunt--” 

“I know, she’s a nice woman by the sounds of it. She can always come see us but you know, not many place around that’ll be as nice as her. Not when’s they see a mother with no husband.” 

You shrink down. He’s right. 

“But I’m not--” 

“Like I was saying,” he interjects, “you’re gonna be a mama. Means you need a proper house.” 

He doesn’t wait for you to argue. You don’t have any to offer as you reel in disbelief. Why would he do all this for you? It’s not his baby. You’re not his problem. 

He comes around and offers his hand. You climb out, gripping him tightly, as you flick away your tears. You sniffle and keep your head down as he leads you across the snowy yard. 

“You’re upset?” He asks as he kicks snow off the steps. 

“I’m... surprised,” you croak, trying to hide your face. “Arvin, it’s too much.” 

“Not much at all,” he counters. “But I got a new stove in and the fireplace real nice since I redid the bricks. And I got it all wired up to a gas generator.” 

“Oh,” you puff out as you climb the steps, still latched onto him. You hiccup as your tears flood over. 

“Oh?” He echoes. 

“Arvin,” you babble behind your hand. “Why-- why would you go and do all this for me?” 

“Why wouldn’t I?” He tugs you toward the door. 

“But...” you choke on your words. 

You kick off your feet before you enter. He moves behind you, guiding you from behind with his hands on your arms. He stops you in a dark doorway. He lets go of you and you listen to him shifting around the dimness. He shines a flashlight into the front room. 

“Once I get the lights on, it’ll look better,” he assures. 

You shake your head, “it’s too much.” 

“Nothin’s too much,” he argues again. “Look, you need this place and you need me. You need a husband, don’t ya?” 

“Husband? Arvin, you can’t--” 

“I wanna.” 

“But--” 

“Baby boy’s not mine. No one else needa know. Them folks in Knockemstiff, the don’t go so far. And the next one will be mine. Maybe a girl--” 

“Next one?” 

“Uh huh, gonna give this one lots of brothers and sisters,” he puts his hand on your stomach. 

“I...” your heart sinks from on high. 

He’s quiet, measuring the silence as you do too. You peer into the front room then wince as he turns the light in your direction. You shield yourself as it shines in your eyes. 

“Well, you gonna tell me no?” His voice is low and silty. “Cause I don’t think no one’s gonna take you away from me. Ain’t no one else want you.” 

It’s like a knife sinking into your gut. Your frown and grab his hand, trying to shove it off your stomach. Why would he say that? He twists free of your grasp and clings to you instead. He turns the light under his chin so it casts his features in a sinister glow. 

“Without me, you and that baby’d be frozen to the side of the street,” he sneers. “All’s I’m tryna do is give you everything, you could at least do the same.” 

[nickeverdeen]

No Love Lost | Arvin Russell x fem!reader

Pairings: Arvin Russell x fem!reader (sexual)

Type of fic: Smut

Warnings: Harsh sex, semi-public sex, top!Arvin, bottom!reader, cussing

Summary: You and Arvin have obvious hate for each other, but what happens when you put that hate into some kind of more… interesting activity?

PS: This is probably the dirtiest thing I’ve ever written

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The humid air of Knockemstiff was heavy, clinging to your skin as you made your way to the small clearing behind the church. You were already in a foul mood, and the last thing you needed was to run into Arvin Russell. But, as if fate was dead set on making your day worse, there he was—leaning against a tree with that insufferable smirk on his face.

“Well, look who it is,” Arvin drawled, his voice dripping with mockery. “What are you doing here, darlin’? Come to pray for some good sense?”

You glared at him, your hands balling into fists at your sides. “Why don’t you mind your own business, Russell? I’m not in the mood for your shit today.”

Arvin pushed off the tree, sauntering closer with that irritating swagger of his. “Aw, what’s the matter? Life not treatin’ you too well?” His tone was almost pitying, but the smirk on his face betrayed the satisfaction he took in getting under your skin.

“Fuck off,” you snapped, turning to walk away, but Arvin wasn’t about to let you off that easily.

“You always so damn uptight?” he called after you, his voice taking on a mocking edge. “Or is it just me that gets you all riled up?”

You spun around to face him, anger flaring in your chest. “God, you’re such an asshole. I can’t stand being around you!”

Arvin’s grin only widened as he stepped closer, his eyes darkening with a mix of challenge and something else that made your pulse quicken. “Funny, I was just about to say the same thing about you. You’re a real pain in my ass, you know that?”

The two of you stood there, inches apart, glaring at each other with such intensity that it felt like the air between you might ignite. Neither of you backed down, the tension crackling like a live wire.

“You wanna do somethin’ about it?” Arvin’s voice was low, almost a growl, his eyes locked onto yours.

Without thinking, you shoved him, hard. Arvin barely budged, his eyes narrowing as he grabbed your wrist, pulling you against him roughly. “Careful, darlin’. You might bite off more than you can chew.”

“Let go of me,” you hissed, trying to pull away, but Arvin’s grip only tightened.

“Make me,” he challenged, his breath hot against your face.

The rage boiling inside you exploded. You grabbed the front of his shirt, yanking him closer as your lips crashed together in a bruising kiss. It wasn’t gentle or sweet—it was raw, rough, and filled with all the pent-up anger you’d been holding back for so long.

Arvin responded in kind, his hands gripping your waist as he backed you up against the tree, his lips and teeth harsh against yours. It was a battle for dominance, each of you trying to outdo the other, to prove who was in control.

You broke the kiss first, gasping for breath, but Arvin didn’t give you a chance to recover. His hands were already on your hips, tugging at your clothes with a roughness that should have made you pull away, but instead, it only fueled your desire to match his intensity.

“Think you can handle me?” you taunted, your voice breathless as you fought to keep your own hands from trembling as they fumbled with the buttons of his shirt.

Arvin’s response was a low, guttural growl as he shoved your skirt up, his hand slipping between your legs with no hesitation. “I’ve handled worse than you,” he shot back, his fingers finding your most sensitive spot with a roughness that made you gasp.

You retaliated by pushing your hand down the front of his pants, grabbing him with a firm grip that had him hissing through his teeth. “You talk too much,” you muttered, your voice laced with frustration as you stroked him just enough to get a reaction.

He bit down on your neck, hard enough to leave a mark, his hand working you over with a brutal efficiency that had you struggling to keep up. You bit back a moan, determined not to let him see how much he was getting to you.

But Arvin wasn’t about to let you win that easily. With a rough shove, he turned you around, pressing you face-first against the tree. The bark bit into your skin, but the sting was nothing compared to the way his hands yanked your underwear down and entered you without warning, the sudden fullness making you cry out in surprise and anger.

“You like that, huh?” Arvin taunted, his voice low and mocking as he thrust into you with a punishing rhythm. “Always knew you were a little slut.”

“Fuck you, Arvin,” you spat back, your voice trembling with a mix of rage and arousal as you pushed back against him, refusing to be the only one on the receiving end of this.

“That’s the plan,” he muttered, his grip on your hips bruising as he slammed into you, each thrust sending sparks of pleasure and pain shooting through your body.

It was a battle, each of you trying to outlast the other, to push the other to their breaking point. You hated how much you wanted it, how much your body craved the roughness, the anger, the sheer force of him inside you.

The tension between you was electric, each thrust and gasp feeding the fire of your mutual hatred. The sounds of your bodies colliding filled the air, mingling with the curses and insults you hurled at each other.

“Is that all you got?” you taunted, even as your body trembled under the force of his thrusts. “I thought you were tougher than this.”

Arvin’s response was a vicious snap of his hips that had you choking on your own breath, the sudden intensity overwhelming. “You’re gonna regret that,” he growled, his voice thick with the effort of holding back.

But you didn’t regret it—not one bit. You wanted more, needed more of this intensity, this raw, unfiltered connection that was so different from anything else you’d ever experienced.

The heat built between you, spiraling higher and higher until it finally broke, your body shattering around him as you came with a scream that echoed through the trees. Arvin followed close behind, his release sudden and violent as he buried himself deep inside you.

For a moment, neither of you moved, both of you panting and trembling with the aftershocks of what had just happened. Then, with a rough shove, Arvin pulled out of you, leaving you leaning against the tree, your legs barely able to hold you up.

You turned around to face him, both of you breathing heavily, sweat and tension still clinging to your bodies. The anger was still there, simmering just beneath the surface, but so was something else—something neither of you wanted to acknowledge.

“Fuck you,” you spat, the words leaving your lips like venom as you glared at him, your voice still shaky from the intensity of it all.

Arvin smirked, though it didn’t lack its usual bite. “You just did,” he shot back, his voice rough, almost tired.

Neither of you moved to clean up or get dressed. Instead, you both collapsed onto the ground, lying there in the cooling night air, your bodies still thrumming from the encounter. There was no tenderness, no soft words or gentle touches—just the lingering anger and resentment that had always been there between you.

And the last words you heard before drifting off?

“I hate you.”

“I hate you too.”