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antiresolution · 1 year

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Killing a Ghost.

@chenosias @minseologs @liux14n

The funeral portrait of Osias disturbs him in a clinical way. Its glassy reflection mirrors the cold pose captured inside a simple wooden frame. What he knew of Osias had been built from words of others. Words alive with contradictions, rumors and facts alike creating the bold outline of an artist clever enough to outrun death after kissing its chapped lips.

“Who’s body do you think it is?”

Wenhan’s hushed voice in a crowd of grim faces doesn’t stop the warning stab of Minseo’s heel into the leather toe of one shoe. Minseo’s hands go to his tie after she sets flowers on a table of offerings. He stares at the bouquet of gold chrysanthemums now decorating plates of food and handwritten notes.

“It doesn’t matter, dear.”

Externally they paint the picture of a well-fitting couple, and always circle each other in a silent dance of disagreement. Tension that would dissolve into bickering on the ride home before Minseo blew out speakers with tchaikovsky loud enough to rattle his fucking teeth.

They lock eyes when she tightens the knot at his throat.

“It should," he murmurs.

Someone would always pay the price from an abandoned past, and part of that cost appears as dark circles under his brother’s curiously alert eyes. Wenhan entertains strangers with a facade of charm if only to give Xian and Jun a moment of reprieve from an unending line of shallow condolences and the weight of grief. Always lingering a few paces behind his brother like some ghostly shadow. He watches the pride holding Xian’s posture upright sink the moment they’re both out of the main room. Witnesses the shudder of truth cross Xian’s features from the reflection in the bathroom mirror. The moment Xian notices Wenhan, he straightens up, as if nothing had broken free.

“Nice of you to show your face, ge.”

Wenhan notices the knife edge on the tip of Xian’s tongue. Bitterness over his absence, maybe. Swelling anger with no one to give it to, more likely. But he doesn’t bother to return the blow. He stands beside his brother, fumbling with the other’s lapel. Xian stands stiff, but doesn’t move or protest as Wenhan pins a white lily to the front of his suit. The last time he’d held his brother’s grief, he’d been a child. They both were. Now the questions lining Xian’s face decorates a sharp gaze with the power to bring a world to its knees instead of a child’s eyes looking to him for answers. Now that he knew the truth, he chose to hide it.

“It’s not your fault.” Wenhan's voice shifts when he speaks in Mandarin. Losing such carefully masked control for a softer honesty. Xian’s eyes drift from his face. “Let’s eat together after, huh. All of us.”

“How long are you staying?”

Xian is looking at him again. This time it’s wenhan’s turn to avoid a prying gaze as he spins on his heel to walk them both back into the funeral hall. The truth is he’d been gone in a week. It wasn’t safe to show his face publicly for too long. Not unless he wanted to give his father an idea of who to threaten, and where to strike.

And the lie?

“As long as you need me.”

–

An oncoming chill from rain taps at his bones and forces him awake walking the Dongmun market just after dawn. He looks at lines of fish hanging like a rainbow of kites, then wastes time picking at mandarins wrapped in boxes for tourists. Following the scent of eggs and butter leads him to a display lined with steamed buns and walnut cakes. He hides his smile when the young woman working the stall ignores him. Yuqin had chopped her hair to her ears since last month after swearing this time she’d grow it out long enough for a braid. He could see the constellation of moles leading from her neck to her cheeks.

“I’d like three pineapple buns.”

She doesn’t even look up from rearranging the rice cakes to fill holes caused by hungry hands. There’s a plate of the desired crisp bread next to her elbow.

“I’m all out, sorry.”

“Maybe some dried plums, then, jie.”

Her eyes narrow on him when he switches into Cantonese. “How many…”

“Just one bag.” Yuqin stares down Wenhan’s cat grin. “You owe me.”

“If I’d known I’d have your foot on my throat, I would’ve taken my chances staying in Guangzhou.” She tosses a few bags of plums into a basket, boxing random pastries and fruit. Inside one box would be a cz85 pistol. Another box would conceal a half full magazine. “Do you even have money to pay me? Heard you quit the circus.” Still, she lets him take it without a fight.

Wenhan watches her use sign language after a group of men walk by. He pulls down the rim of his ball cap when one of them glances at the stall.

‘I won’t be here next time you need me. It’s not safe anymore’

“I thought you hated dried plums.” Yuqin’s gaze is heavy with unspoken questions.

Yet hate wasn’t the right word. Guns bored him. His mother taught him about concealing knives as well as ballet. Maybe he’d inherited her distaste for bullets like the sharp slope of her nose and eyes.

“I thought you swore you’d stop selling them.”

Yuqin swore she’d have her peace. Open a bakery, adopt a stupid dog, live a simple life. And here they both were, still running from the same fate with a different face. Wenhan smiles even knowing they might not see each other again. At least not alive. He lets his feet carry him out of the marketplace, filling his shoes with beach sand and rocks. Keeping his head down to escape curious looks from fisherman and divers. He wouldn’t have much time to search Osias’ boat, and he didn’t need Minseo hearing about his trip from anyone else. Anyone on this island could be part of her business, and he would never know everything.

What free wall space the boat’s lower cabin has is decorated with few photographs and loose handed sketches. Xian would hate to see his face on full display, even if it was a smiling face next to Jun and candids of strangers. Still, the idea of his younger brother's annoyance is enough to tug lips into a half-smile that disappears when he kicks aside empty take out boxes.

So this is what one face of peace looked like. Isolated in a dungeon by the sea with the comforting smell of shit to sleep next to.

Wenhan knocks at baseboards, listening for a dull echo. Any clues to hidden compartments holding weapons, money, drugs. Anything more to look at besides useless sentimental nothings. Something to make it worth the paranoia that drove him here. Worth the decisive weight in his decision to erase the liability Osias had become.

Yet all he finds is a simple notebook. Its pages were already gutted with writing. Decorated with graceful words that didn’t match Wenhan’s opinion of a reckless junkie. He thumbs through confessions as if it were his own diary, ignoring how initial disappointment ebbs away. Replaced instead with curiosity he would deny.

Then the floor creaks, and Wenhan sways to avoid the second body barreling inside the cabin. The diary is lost under two pairs of wrestling feet, and he feels the slice of a blade in his side before he sees Osias. They greet each other with the shock of widened eyes and spitting curses. Wenhan keeps Osias’ wrist twisted away from what would have been a lethal stab at his gut.

“What the fuck–”

“I liked this shirt…” he bites into the complaint as his side throbs. He hadn't been stabbed in a while. How annoying. How–

Fun.

“What are you even here for– shit. You fucking stalker.”

“What for…?” Wenhan blinks, as if he were as innocent as a child. Then he’s sucking in a breath, hissing between his teeth as he clamps a hand over his side. He could only hope the wound was shallow. “You’re the one that said I should visit.”

“Maybe I was being fucking facestious, bro.”

They stand there, mirroring a strange calmness in each other that doesn’t match the shed of blood pooling hot and slick under Wenhan’s palm. Osias had been shocked, but his face didn’t carry the same surprise. As if he had been waiting for a threat to manifest. It could have been anyone.

“Answer.”

“I came here to kill you.” The confession is said simply, without hesitation or a flicker in expression. It would be easy to snap that thin neck between his hands. Take the boat out far enough and dump a body no one would even be looking for. Simple to have its insides cleaned and returned to Minseo’s docks as if it had never been gone. Everyone back home was already mourning, and he’d just give them a good reason for the grief.

Then, Wenhan laughs.

“Could you imagine? That’s so stupid. Too anticlimactic.”

Osias doesn’t say anything, but gapes soundless pain when Wenhan launches a knee into his gut. The knife spins into a dark corner. He uses the brief shock to move out of reach and closer to the exit. Osias leans against the opposite end of the boat, hunched as if he were prepared to swing, but neither of them move.

“I brought you something.” Wenhan tilts his head towards the basket of pastries and fruit.

“I don’t want anything from you... Jesus, you just can’t say anything straight can you.”

“It’s for when you move on.” Wenhan never believed this plan would work, not for long. “Somewhere Minseo can’t protect you.” Or when she decides this isn’t worth the trouble.

Osias glances at the blood soaking between his fingers. There’s a beat of hesitation, then he rolls his eyes.

“Whatever… sit down, ya cryptic asshole. Or bleed outside if you want." Osias is already digging inside a small cabinet “--or bleed out if you want.”

If it’s pride that roots his feet to the floor and keeps him standing, he’d blame morbid curiosity for sinking down into a chair and pulling up his bloody shirt.

Osias almost immediately presses a cloth into his side after the bored assessment. Wenhan feels the burn of antiseptic and grinds his teeth, nearly not catching the mutter. “Jie would kill me for this.”

“She would, because she’s kind. You should worry about Xian when he figures out your stupid plan.” Wenhan watches Osias’ face carefully as he murmurs, “for someone that writes so much about being better off dead, you try really hard not to die.”

He half expects Osias to stab him twice if that glare was any sort of warning. But the other stays quiet as he works, and Wenhan focuses on the drawings over walls after failing to earn a reaction. For a moment, he could recognize the peace Osias chased in this sort of silence. Isolation and freedom could be one and the same.

What was far more cruel than death lived in the consequences of free will. Neither of them would admit they recognized the same sort of cruelty in each other. An identical selfishness. The fact they would always choose themselves over anyone else.

When Wenhan starts laughing to himself, seemingly at nothing, Osias threatens to throw him into the sea if he keeps fucking fidgeting.

Killing a ghost is knowing what it means to live under its skin.

#On the special edition disk of this movie there's bts of minseo and wenhan arguing over chopin and girls generation #I've become a cryptid big foot

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darklydeliciousdesires · 2 years

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Not One of Many - Chapter Twenty Four.

Previous chapters - Prologue One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve Thirteen Fourteen Fifteen Sixteen Seventeen Eighteen Nineteen Twenty Twenty One Twenty Two Twenty Three

Tag list - In the comments

Words - 2,780

Warnings - 18+ content, adult audience only. Minors DNI!

“Jesus fucking Christ, the size of this gaff!”

Beth and Della’s heads virtually swivelled toward one another as they lay beside each other on the sun loungers, hearing Magda’s unmistakable tones coming from inside the house, two days after they’d arrived. “She’s here!”

“Yes!” Beth squeaked, both women hurtling up and running to greet her as she appeared in the kitchen.

“Oh, that’s all my pasty arse needs, Barbie dolls in bikinis to make me feel bad about myself!” she exclaimed, hugging and kissing them in turn.

“Mags, don’t be silly!” Della cooed affectionately, moving to the fridge to pull out the jug containing the fruit punch she and Beth had been enjoying, pouring her a glass, retrieving a beer for Dennis too.

“Yeah, but my size twelve curves look bang out of place next to a couple of tiny sorts like you pair! It’ll be like sticking a bloody lump of leftover clay between two fine art statues!” She then turned to see Dennis looking thoroughly pleased at being hugged by Della, sipping his newly opened beer.

“Beer and a bikini babe. I’m a happy chap,” he exclaimed, Beth moving in to give him a hug as well. “Oooh, two now!”

“You put your bloody eyes back in your head!” Magda warned playfully, pointing at him. They were swiftly joined by one of the villa staff, who escorted them to their room, Magda arriving back with them dressed in her swimsuit after twenty minutes, receiving wolf whistles from the girls.

“Oh, stop!” she shouted, a certain set of ears pricking up.

“Is that my Magda?” Alfie roared from the upper terrace area.

“It is, darling!” she called back, sipping her drink before placing it down.

“Mags, I’m warning you right now, he’s on full holiday mode, meaning he’s naked and stoned.” Five seconds later, and a very naked, very widely grinning Alfie appeared at the top of the stone steps, holding a small towel over his privates so he didn’t end up with sunburn of the cock.

“Don’t bother me, babe.” she shrugged, turning to look up at Alfie. “Come on, then! Gizza hug!” she shouted.

“I’m comin’, treacle!” She did expect him to keep hold of the towel, but just before he embraced her, it was dropped, Magda enveloped in a bear hug she couldn’t escape.

“Alfie! Your cock’s touching me leg!”

“You love it!”

Beth and Della nearly wet themselves laughing, Marcus booming out much the same from his place atop the terrace, where he was also just as stoned and nude. “Get off me now!” she cried, smacking his bare bum a few times.

“Don’t do that, Mags, he won’t let you go!” Beth cried, still laughing, Alfie amping up his brazenness by licking her cheek before finally letting her go.

“Comin’ for a smoke, darlin’?” he asked, Magda picking up her drink again, shaking her head through her laughter.

“Nah, gives me a right headache, the ganja. Dennis probably will, though.”

“Where is he, anyway?” Before she could reply, her husband appeared from the kitchen, stopping to point at Alfie with a slightly exasperated look.

“Dennis! Shalom!”

“Alf, put your cock away, mate!”

“Nah, come give me a hug, you twat!” Opening his arms, he then ran in his direction, Dennis looking a little fearful.

“Oh shit!” Into the house he flew, with a very fast-moving Alfie going in after him, the women all screaming with laughter. They finally emerged after a while, Alfie grabbing a few more bottles of beer from the fridge (non-alcoholic for him and the rest for his guests) with still not a single care in the world over who saw him naked as the day he was born.

“So, why no clothes, lad?” Dennis asked as they took the steps, Alfie stopping to give Beth a kiss on the way.

“I ain’t getting' no fuckin’ tan lines, mate, nah!” He at least picked up his towel again on the way up.

“I swear, Marcus is going to look like a bloody beetroot. Alfie actually goes brown, but my husband? He’s too ginger for it! I thought he might have got some base colour while we were in St Tropez, but he just went pink and then white again.”

“Yep, as a fellow ginge, I identify heavily with that. I’ll go tomato red and then back to white, but fuck it, I bloody love the sun! Surprised to see your pale arse out here and not hiding under an umbrella, Bethany,” she replied, stretching out.

Beth’s lips upturned into something resembling a devilish grin. “I’m only going it because Alfie said he’ll lick every single tan line I have later.”

“Ooooh!” Della cooed.

“Mucky pups!” Magda admonished, lighting herself a cigarette. “You ain’t gonna have many, size of that tiny bikini!”

“Well, I’ve brought fake tan with me so I can make myself match. I’ll do that after my inspection.” she giggled, taking a sip of her drink, feeling her head buzz a little. She didn’t usually start drinking until late in the afternoon, but there she was at midday, getting a nice buzz on. This caused her feelings of confliction, still feeling like she should be doing something other than lounging, Alfie taking her phone from her earlier and hiding it after he’d caught her making article notes in her OneDrive app. It went both ways, though...

“Excuse me, sir? Is that a work-related email you are perusing?” Beth asked in the kitchen a little later, a now dressed Alfie quickly trying to swipe back.

“Nope!” She held out her hand, raising her eyebrows.

“Hand it over.”

“But...”

“Now! You’re too stoned to focus on work anyway.”

“Bloody bossy women people!” He reluctantly relinquished it, Beth scurrying off to hide it somewhere before joining him again, picking up her lunch plate of fresh pittas and several different kinds of salads, heading over to the table to eat.

“Looking very luminous there, Marcus,” she commented as she sat, the man himself grinning.

“No tan lines, though!” he beamed, his wife shaking her head in despair at his red glow. Luckily, he’d been coaxed into dressing as well, but had done his own naked terrorising before that, lying himself down on top of Magda as she’d snoozed in the sun, Della and Beth again almost dying laughing. Their respective partner’s holiday modes both included reverting to overgrown teenage boys, it would seem, Magda seeming to cop the brunt of that.

“Well, if we want to ignite he fire pits later, all we have to do is place tinder in your general direction and woof! It’ll catch in about three seconds!” She winked at him as the table erupted, Alfie grabbing her hand and turning to kiss her shoulder. He loved that she got on with his friends, engaging them in a bit of her banter. Apart from her little wobbles, she fitted into his world perfectly. Those wobbles were something she detailed a little to Magda later that afternoon, the guys heading out for a walk around, and Della snoozing in her room.

“Crikey, babe. I’ve never known you to have a panic attack.” Reaching for her hands, she squeezed them tightly, her face concerned. Magda was rarely soft, but when it came to Beth’s welfare, her blunter edge was abandoned completely. “I kinda get it, though, what you were stressing about. You ain’t like the birds he’s had in the past, you’ve never been a moocher, always wanted to forge your own path, earn for yourself. What you have to remember is, you still are, love. You just happen to be dating a man who is massively wealthy and very generous with it. You being deserving or not don’t come into it, it’s just a fact.”

“Imagine how he’d feel and all, if you started paying your equal way for things, when fucking hell, he must earn in a week what you do in a few years. You’d be skint and he wouldn’t even notice it from his finances. It’s tricky, because you can’t ever meet in the middle. Reason being, the middle is never gonna be fair for you, but you’ve staked out a little compromise there. You can’t really expect the fella not to spoil you rotten, though. He loves you!”

They couldn’t meet in the middle, because the middle would never be fair for her. She'd never really thought about in it such terms before, but it was glaring for having her best friend point it out to her. Beth made on average at best, thirty to thirty-five thousand a year as a freelance journalist. Alfie made that in a week on the very villa they were staying in alone. The course of the last week really had opened her eyes further to her boyfriend’s staggering wealth.

“It still makes me feel uncomfortable, deep down,” she confessed, Magda sipping her drink.

“Okay, well how about look at it like this. You love him, right? You accept him for who and what he is?”

“I do.”

“Then accept that you need to do a little mental adjustment, because if you do accept him, you accept him being the kind of man who wants to treat you in accordance to his lifestyle. What if someone was asking you to dial back you being a journalist, ay?”

Another excellent point.

“I’m being a dickhead, aren’t I?”

“Tiny bit, sweetheart. Tiny bit.” Magda slapped her bare foot lovingly, opening her arms. “It’ll be fine, once you get used to it all. Enjoy yourself. You’re young and in love! Come on, my glass is entirely too dry.” They got up, heading into the kitchen to refill, Beth thoughtful as she poured punch from the jug.

What was it that prevented her from fully enjoying herself? She was having a great time with her new love, about to move in with him, they’d decided very quickly how serious they were over each other, Alfie especially, putting his wild ways of multiple girlfriends into his past for her, so why did she feel she wasn’t deserving?

And there it was. Because her love, and this life she now had, it came at the expense of three other women, one of them reviling her so much for it, she was now stalking her. If she really faced it and questioned herself, that was what she had an issue with. Of course, her own down to earth ways, her pride in being self-sufficient played a part as well, but mostly, she had to reconcile what lay deeper for her.

“You know you’re being a right daft mare, don’t you?” Alfie voiced later that night, just them sitting on the private terrace off their bedroom. ”You and Mimi are becoming firm friends, Amira reached out to you three days ago to say all was well with her an’ all, and she wants to be mates with you, so I just don’t understand it. It’s almost like you feel bad for being with me, and that ain’t sitting right with me either, duchess. I have to say.”

Scrambling up and joining him at the rail, she was quick to reassure him. “It isn’t you.”

“Ain’t it? Because it feels like you’re throwing it all at me. You ain’t comfortable with me making so much money, you ain’t comfortable with me spending it on you and you ain’t comfortable with me leaving behind my old life for you. Bloody hell, how many more hoops have I got to fuckin’ jump through, ay?”

“Alfie, no. No, it isn’t you. It’s me, feeling guilty, I’m trying to tell you that it’s why I feel like I don’t deserve the life I have now,” she began to explain, her boyfriend looking agitated.

“Well don’t, because you’ve got fuck all to feel guilty about, right? I fuckin’ told you that when we got here, didn’t I?”

She felt flustered, like he wasn’t really listening to her, like he thought he could control how she felt because he didn’t personally see such as an issue. “I can’t just turn off how I feel because you tell me to!”

“Yeah? Fucking try.” He held his arms wide, dropping them at his sides. “What, ain’t I worth it?”

She felt her eyes prickle, not wanting for her honest sharing with him to end up like this. “Of course, you are!”

“Then fuckin’ sort it out, right?”

Her brows knitted, frustration colliding within. “Alfie, it’s not that simple,” she began, his boom interrupting her.

“Seems it from where I’m standing.”

“See, there you go! From where you’re standing! Just because you don’t see it as an issue, it doesn’t negate the fact that I do! People aren’t taps, you can’t switch off their emotions to suit yourself, you know!”

“You’re being stupid, Beth. You’re fuckin’ smarter than this,” he spoke flatly, flexing his fingers as he paced around, riddled with agitation.

She was aghast. “Don’t you fucking dare call my intelligence into question!”

“Yeah? I just did. What you gonna fuckin’ do about it?” She hated this side of him, the side that she’d only ever heard in conflict with others before, the fiery temper, the defiance, challenging the opponent of his verbal tirade. The parallel between Talia trying to tell him of her feelings and him barking the same response time after time, and now her attempting to do the same with her own issue wasn’t lost on her.

“I’m going to try and talk to you, if you’d just calm down for five seconds,” she stated, taking a deep breath, realising one of them had to at least attempt to de-escalate the situation.

He frowned, coming to a stop, arms folded. “What, more bollocks about feeling guilty? Because it is. It’s fucking bollocks, biggest pile of shit I’ve heard come out of your mouth. Feeling guilty, fucks sake. So what, what? The alternative is what, you wanna call it a day because you can’t handle that you and me being together came at someone else’s expense?”

“Now you’re being bloody stupid! Of course, I don’t want that, Alfie! I think I just need time to reconcile it all, mentally process it. I know I shouldn’t feel like this, but I do. I worry about how my actions impact others all the time; I can’t help it!”

He scowled at her, laughing darkly. “Yeah? Try worrying a little bit now, over how your actions in the present are impacting your boyfriend.”

“You don’t have to be impacted! You’re taking this massively personally for no fucking reason! It isn’t anything to do with how I feel about you, it’s how I feel about me! ME! Jesus Christ, listen to me!”

“Nah, I’m fucking done with listening to your shit. I try and reassure you and you don’t want to know, then I just get screamed at more, fucking bandy mare. Have it your way, then. Sit there feeling guilty, fucked if I bloody care.”

He stormed off then, leaving her to flop back down into her seat, dejected, embarrassed and angry. He really was difficult when he was pissed off, a man truly of little patience and a very short fuse. Their first fight. It was bound to happen at some point, all couples argued, but obviously she wished it hadn’t occurred. With no one else up, she got ready for bed and turned in, her mind racing as she lay there alone.

How could she try and placate him when he didn’t want to hear her, or rather, wouldn’t hear her? Her guilt had nothing to do with the way she felt about him at all, but he wouldn’t have it. She lay there and began questioning it, from her side, wondering if she was wrong, if she was simply so unused to having something go her way that she had to throw bombs at it, make conflict, shake it up somehow because she couldn’t believe how well life was treating her.

Her thoughts weren’t far off the mark, but that didn’t mean Alfie shouldn’t have taken her feelings into consideration, rather than just telling her to stop feeling them because he personally didn’t believe she should.

Whatever the outcome and resolve was, she knew she wouldn’t reach it until they’d both calmed down a fraction and could talk through it sensibly. When that would be, she didn’t know. He didn’t return to their bedroom that night, and when she awoke early after little sleep, Martina informed her that he’d gone out for a jog.

When he did arrive back, he didn’t even look at her. It certainly didn’t bode well for them getting it sorted out that morning.

#alfie solomons #Alfie solomons fanfiction #alfie solomons smut #alfie solomons fanfi #alfie solomons fic #alfie solomons x ofc #tom hardy #tom hardy fanfiction #tom hardy fanfic #tom hardy fic #tom hardy smut #peaky blinders #peaky blinders smut #peaky blinders fanfiction

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princesskiii · 1 year

Text

Prologue + Little Town

𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 !

Beauty and the Beast au, Eventual Clevarr, Multi-Chap

↳ Catherine Parr, Henry Tudor, Bessie Blount, other characters mentioned, Anna of Cleves

𝐀𝐨𝟑

2.202 words

Once upon a time in the hidden heart of France a beautiful young princess lived in a beautiful castle.

Although she had everything her heart desired, the princess was selfish and unkind.

She taxed the village to fill her castle with the most beautiful objects and her party's with the most beautiful people.

And then one night an unexpected intruder arrived at the castle, seeking shelter from the bitter storm.

As a gift she offered the princess a single rose.

Repulsed by her haggard appearance the princess turned the woman away. But she warned her not to be deceived by appearances, for beauty is found within.

When she dismissed her again the old woman's outward appearance melted away to reveal a beautiful enchantress.

The princess begged for forgiveness but it was too late, for she had seen that there was no love in the princess' heart.

As punishment she transformed her into a hideous beast and placed a powerful spell on the castle and all who lived there.

As days bled into years the princess and her servants were forgotten by the world for the enchantress had erased all memories of them from the minds of the people they loved.

But the rose she offered was truly an enchanted rose. If the princess could learn to love another and earn their love in return by the time the last petal fell, the spell would be broken.

If not she would be doomed to remain a beast for all time.

As the years past she fell in despair and lost hope.

For who could ever learn to love a beast?

.....

Catherine fixed her dress as she walked out the door, her eyes slowly adjusting to the vastly different light outside.

She took in the still quiet streets, looking up at the town's clock tower, it'd only take about a minute for the quiet to change.

In an effort to fill the silence she started muttering to herself as she went down the steps.

"Little town, it's a quiet village every day like the one before."

Catherine smiled as she went, her gaze still fixed on the clock waiting for the bell to ring inside. "Little town full of little… people."

Her gaze traveled to the windows and laundry lines. "Waking up to say.."

"Bonjour!"

Catherine chuckled as she waved at the people she passed, the streets which were silent and empty now bustling with life in under a second. "There goes the baker with his tray like always. The same old bread and rolls to sell."

Despite her words, she bought a roll of bread and stuffed it into her bag. "Every morning just the same."

She went up to pet one of the horses, the horse attempting to eat the few crumbs on her hands as she smiled brightly. "Since the morning that we came. To this poor, provincial town."

"Good morning Cath!"

Catherine turned around and waved, moving closer to talk. "Good morning monsieur John, have you lost something again?" She asked, a small tease in her voice.

He nodded. "Yes i believe i have, the problem is i can't remember what." Catherine laughed, like every single day.

"Oh well, i'm sure it'll come to me." He said, grinning. Cathy nodded as she turned to wander off.

"Where are you off to?" He asked, getting Cathy to turn around and dig into her bag.

She got out a book, showing off its cover. "To return a book to Edward Burgh, it's about two lovers in Fair Verona."

The other shrugged. "Sounds boring." Catherine giggled, shaking her head as she continued on her journey.

Catherine caught small pieces of chatter as she wandered through the town's large streets.

"Bonjour, good day. How is your family?" Ah Thomas, always trying to woo a new lady.

"Bonjour, good day. How is your wife?" Catherine snickered at that, turning for just a second to see the look on the man's face.

"I need six eggs… that's too expensive!"

Catherine sighed as she continued. "There must be more than this provincial life."

The woman reached her destination, taking out her book and smiling at the familiar sound of the bell ringing, which signified her presence to the man dusting.

Edward smiled. "Ah if it isn't the only bookworm in town, where did you run off to this week?"

Catherine smiled and went to put her book back in place. "Two cities in northern Italy, i didn't want to come back." She turned to him with a bright grin. "So, have you got any new places to go?" She asked.

Edward sighed, shaking his head. "I'm afraid not, but you may reread any of the old ones if you'd like."

Cathy frowned for a second, before spotting one of her favorites and taking it happily. She gave the man a coin as she clutched the book to her chest. "Thank you, your library makes our small corner of the world feel big." She said as she walked out.

"Always a pleasure, bon voyage!"

Catherine smiled and waved. "Bye!"

She immediately opened the book and started reading as she wandered back home, catching a few people talking about her but she couldn't care that much.

She smiled as she reached the flower shops, just in time for her favorite part.

"Oh, isn't this amazing? It's my favorite part because.. you'll see.." She flipped another page. "Here's where she meets prince charming, but she won't discover that it's him till chapter three."

"Look at her, Bessie." Henry Tudor put down his monocular and gave it to the girl beside him. The two stood on a hill a bit away from the village, both on horseback.

"My future wife." He added as Bessie adjusted so she could see as well. "Catherine is the most beautiful girl in the village, that makes her the best."

Bessie pushed down her offense at the comment and gave the man his monocular back. "But she's so well read and you're so.." She bit back the word 'not'. "Athletically inclined."

Henry grinned. "I know, Catherine can be as argumentative as she is beautiful."

"Exactly! Who needs her when you've got us?" Bessie said rather enthusiastically.

"Yes, but ever since the war i've felt i've been missing something. She's the only girl that gives me that sense of.." Henry stopped, trying to find the right words to describe it.

Bessie searched through her mind for a second in an attempt to aid. "Je ne sais quoi?"

"I don't know what that means."

Bessie froze in a moment of confusion before following alongside the man into the village.

"Right from the moment when i met her, saw her. I said 'she's gorgeous!' and i fell." Henry started. Bessie raised a brow as she turned to the three women staring at them walking by.

"Here in town there's only she, who is beautiful as me, so i'm making plans to woo and marry Catherine."

The two dismounted, a few people immediately rushing to their aid with their horses.

The three women quickly ran out of their small boutique to gush over the man, which Bessie had to resist the urge to gag at.

"Oh there he goes, isn't he dreamy? Monsieur Henry! Oh, he's so cute! Be still my heart, I'm hardly breathing!"

Henry spared them a single glance.

"He's such a tall, dark, strong and handsome brute!"

And with that Henry's horse stepped a little too hard in a puddle of mud, sending splashes of it onto the three.

Henry walked away from them, While Bessie quickly rushed over to them. "Never gonna happen ladies." She whispered before she followed the older man.

Catherine still walked through the market while reading, though minding to greet anyone who greeted her. There was still a lot of chatter around her, in fact it was kind of hard to get through the swarm of people.

She closed her book with a sigh as she reached the fountain where she took her chance and tossed a coin in. "There must be more than this provincial life!"

"Just watch, I'm going to make Cath my wife!"

Catherine continued reading again as she walked, now noticing most of the chatter was about her.

"Good morning Catherine!" And as if on cue the many people behind her continued with their day and normal conversations.

She gave a polite smile to the man and closed her book to take part in the inevitable conversation.

"Lovely book you have there." He said, a little hesitant.

Her smile brightened immediately bringing it closer to Henry's view. "Have you read it?"

Henry stopped for a second. "Well, no. But i've read.. books." He handed her the flowers he'd gotten in an attempt to change the topic. "Here, for your dinner table." He said.

Catherine hesitated, but put her book away and took the flowers with a small smile.

"Shall i join you this evening?"

Catherine's smile dropped. "Sorry, not this evening." She said as she slowly backed away.

Henry raised a brow. "Busy?"

Catherine grimaced as she turned around to head for her house. "Not exactly." She said before leaving completely.

Bessie approached, whistling. "Giving up yet?"

Henry hummed. "No, Bessie. It's the ones who play hard to get that are always the sweetest prey." He said.

Bessie sighed, groaning softly.

"That's what makes Catherine so appealing. She hasn't made a fool of herself trying to gain my favor. What would you call that?"

"Dignity?"

"Outrageously attractive, isn't it?"

Catherine let out a sigh of relief as she closed the door behind her, immediate relaxation hitting her as she untensed.

A quiet humming filled her ears, accompanied by the sound of a music box. Catherine smiled softly, wandering to the source of the sound.

She found her mother, humming to herself as she messed around with a music box, one she'd personally crafted to depict her family.

Maud grabbed a tool before she started to sing softly. "How does a moment last forever, how can a story never end?"

Catherine's eyes wandered to a portrait mounted on the wall, one of her as a child with her father. Clearly, she wasn't the only one.

"It is love we must hold on to, never easy but we try." Maud turned back to her work, smiling at the moment it portrayed. "Sometimes our happiness is captured, somehow a time and place stand still. Love lives on inside our hearts, and always will."

Maud looked up, jumping back slightly when she saw her daughter. "Oh! Cath."

Catherine smiled as she came closer.

"Oh, could you hand me a…" Maud stopped to think of the tools name for a moment, while Catherine chuckled and got what she guessed was needed out.

"Oh, thank you." Maud said, getting a giggle out of Catherine as she handed the tool.

"Oh could you get me a.."

Catherine hummed as she searched again before showing what she thought Maud had needed.

Maud smiled but shook her head.

"Oh wait, yeah that is.. what i need. "Thank you, love." Maud said, smiling sheepishly. Catherine laughed softly.

She hummed in thought as she watched her mother work.

"Mama, do you think i'm odd?" She asked quietly, maybe the chatter had gotten more to her then she'd initially thought. Maud raised a brow.

"Odd? My daughter? Odd? Where did you get that idea?" Maud asked, a hand on Catherine's knee in comfort.

"I don't know. People talk." Catherine shrugged. Maud huffed.

"This is a small village you know, small minded as well. But small also means safe."

Before Catherine could add anything, Maud continued. "Even back in Paris i knew a boy like you. He was so.. ahead of his time. So different. They all mocked him, until the day they all found themselves imitating him."

Catherine listened intently, taking her mothers hand in her own. "Could you tell me more about him?"

Maud nodded softly. "Your father was…. Fearless."

Catherine smiled, squeezing her mothers hand.

Maud looked her up and down for a second before getting her own smile. "Fearless."

She took her hand back in order to close up her music box and put it away. "So.. what can i bring you from the market?"

Catherine hummed. "A rose." She responded. "Like the one in the painting."

Maud laughed. "You ask for that every year."

Catherine chuckled and pressed a kiss to her mothers cheek. "And every year you bring me one."

Maud returned the kiss before she continued. "And i shall bring you another one. You have my word."

Catherine followed her mother outside after an extensive routine to check if she had everything she needed.

Maud mounted the family's mare, Catherine going up to give it a treat in the form of an apple as she did.

"Bye, Mama." She exclaimed as her mother rode off, Maud immediately waving back.

"I'll see you tomorrow!"

Catherine smiled as she watched her mother ride away. The moment she lost sight of her she turned and got back into the house.

A pile of laundry awaited her inside. Right yeah she still had to do that.

Catherine examined all the supplies in the room.

Or… maybe.

#six the musical #six #catherine parr #six catherine parr #catherine parr six #henry tudor six #bessie six #bessie on the bass #bessie blount #six anna of cleves #anna of cleves six #anna of cleves #six the musical au #six the musical fanfic #six the musical fanfiction #[ Ｅｔｈｅｒｅａ．ｔｘｔ ] → ＷＲＩＴＩＮＧ #beauty and the beast au #batb au

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casspurrjoybell-31 · 5 months

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The Consort - Chapter 21 - Part 1

*Warning Adult Content*

Finn

It doesn't take long for Kelly to find me and when he does, I don't even try to run.

I slump against that tree with strained muscles and tear-stained cheeks, replaying my conversation with Brayden over and over again.

Kelly awkwardly takes me into his arms.

He's not used to traveling with humans and every few minutes my head clunks against the side of his elbow.

I don't fight his touch as the two of us speed away from the dilapidated subdivision and into the heart of the forest.

Everything becomes a blur.

I assume we're going back to the tree-house but I can't be sure.

Hues of crisp orange, yellow and red glint against the shimmering sunlight, the seasons continuing their journey of change despite the bloodshed happening around it.

After what feels like an eternity has passed, we arrive at our destination, a place that I thought I'd never step foot.

Brayden's home.

Kelly ushers me through the front door, eyeing the vicinity around us to make sure no one is following.

I step into the front foyer and suck in a breath of awe.

Ribbons of gold line the walls and the marble staircase.

My eyes dance up to the dome shaped ceiling where thousands of twinkling lights are hanging overhead.

"Beautiful..." I murmur.

I know I shouldn't like being here, a place that smells like Brayden's very essence.

The immortal man literally just got done serving me on a platter to one of the most villainous creatures known to mankind.

Yet being here calms me.

It's like the house has a personality of its own, sliding its arms around me and whispering soothing words to protect me against the outside world.

Kelly takes me on a brief tour.

We come to an abrupt stop at the first door on the second floor... a small guestroom where Kelly informs me we'll be staying.

"We?" I ask.

"I was instructed to stay by your side at all times," Kelly responds, closing the door behind us.

"That's really not necessary."

Kelly shrugs.

"An order is an order."

I sigh with defeat and glance around the new room.

The light in here is much dimmer than in the foyer.

A curved lamp sits near the side of the room next to a leather couch.

It's lightly furnished, only a bed and a small dresser taking up space amongst the vastly polished, wooden floor.

When I notice there's a small, attached bathroom in the corner of the room, I ask Kelly for a moment of privacy.

Even if most of the vampires don't have bathrooms in their homes, it seems once again that Brayden is the exception to the rule.

At least this time it's an exception which makes me ecstatic.

Then again, if this bathroom has been here for a while, it also appears I'm not the first human Brayden has entertained... I set my jaw firmly and wash my face and hands, taking special care around my chapped knuckles.

The sound of rushing water splashing into the marble faucet brings me back to my shower last night.

I can almost hear Axel flipping the pages of his book beside me, just a thin layer of shower curtain separating the two of us.

With a shudder, I slap off the faucet and pad back into the room.

The bed bends to my weight, so unlike the rickety mattress I was forced to use during my captivity with Axel.

I pull the thin blanket and comforter around my shoulders and cuddle into its warmth with a yawn.

Kelly's gaze flickers to me from across the room just briefly before going back to his electronic device.

The soft light of the screen bounces against his features.

Since picking me up a few hours ago, he hasn't said much.

Then again, now that Kelly has changed, he doesn't say much at all.

I take a deep breath, inhaling the smell of the blankets that are rich with Brayden's decadent scent.

The silk brushes against my skin and I shiver.

It reminds me of Brayden's touch... soft as satin and perfect without fail.

I push the comparison from my mind and clear my throat.

Kelly glances at me yet again, this time his eyebrows pinching together with irritation.

"You really should go to bed," he grunts.

"I'm scared to fall asleep," I say with a heavy sigh.

"The past week has been a nightmare."

Kelly's fingers waiver above the screen of his device.

"You may not realize it now but the nightmare you lived for a week will save countless lives."

I swallow down my reply, thinking back to Brayden's confession in the tree-house.

He made it clear he didn't save me for me, he saved me to protect mankind.

I know Axel was awful.

I saw firsthand what he was capable of doing.

Regardless, Brayden had no problem sending me to the lion's den without thinking twice about it.

He simply didn't care.

"Never mind," I mumble, pulling the blankets over my head.

I force my eyes closed, trying to both ignore and wallow in Brayden's scent.

Sleep caresses my mind.

It nudges and prods me forward, lightening my thoughts.

"He was the one who changed him, you know."

Kelly's voice jars me back into a wakeful state.

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jeanhm · 2 years

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Gorgeous Gorges and Magnificent Mountains

Today has been a driving experience around the northern part of Montenegro. When we went kayaking last week the chap we rented from said we ought to go north of Podgorica and through the Moraca Gorge so we worked out a round trip which took us not only through that gorge but many others. However, unlike gorges I've been through in UK where the roads tend to follow the bottom of the gorge, not so here. roads wind their way up the mountains in a series of hairpins away from the rivers so you truly look down into a deep canyon. meanwhile you are surrounded by sharp jagged mountains in all directions.

The roads are not only winding but through many, many tunnels, some properly lined and built, some almost just holes blasted in the rock which look far less safe and everywhere there are pine trees and granite outcrops. The area we were headed to took us north initially up through the Moraca Gorge to Kolasin then north to Mojkovac before we turned north west then west following the river Tapa until we reached Zabljak. The gorge followng the Tara river (leading off the Moraca) to Mojkovac is the deepest in Europe and second deepest in the world behind the Grand Canyon and you can tell its deep even though you are driving a long way above it looking down. You managed glimpes of the river at times of the bends but there were few places to stop and the roads were narrow with some pretty dodgy driving from some folk. At times todays journey took us high enough above sea level for our ears to pop with Zabljak being 1465m itself and with 48 mountain peaks within the "Durmitor Ring" being over 2000m asl.

At Zabljak we headed into the Durmitor National park and to the Black Lake where we had dinner in the small restaurant by the lake. We had lake trout and potato which was wonderfully fresh. We had to walk from the carpark to the lake through the pine forest which was a refreshing change as the temperature in this area was a mere 27 degrees, feeling almost cold!

The area around Zabljak is almost plateau like with a ring of mountains around and this is the centre of the Montenegro ski industry so loads of wonderfully pointed little chalets and hotels and an area where there is a lot of new construction as I guess this is a growing industry for the country. After dinner and our walk through the national park to the lake and back we started to head back south, initially through the plateau like grasslands and then down some more bendy twisty roads. None of the them were quite as bad as the Serpentine road of yesterday but still some amazing hairpins. At one stage we found ourselves surrounded by what appeared to be a French Peugot 205 rally several of which managed to break down on the sharp and steep uphill roads! We did pass another few lakes and rivers and smaller gorges but none to compare to the mornings views. Still it was a long day of driving but with fantastic views when at times you really were almost on top of the world. Its just such a shame that the tourism industry hasn't realised that people want stops to take photos and the routes really aren't yet geared up for tourists with very few cafes or stopping places. Again, an area for this country to develop. Lots of photos to come.

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solarwonux · 3 years

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41. “Dance with me.”

59. “I’m still sore from last night.”

ceo!yoongi x reader

w.c: 1.6k

warnings: a little suggestive if you like squint, sweet teeth numbing fluff

note: please please let me know your thoughts, it helps me out a lot. Also send in a drabble request hehehe.

masterlist || drabble game

Yoongi loved mornings.

Yoongi loved mornings more, now that the two of you had finally moved in together after years of dancing around the subject. He loved waking up next to you, with your face buried into the side of his body and your tiny snores escaping your dry chapped lips, echoing against the eggshell walls of the room. He loved the way the thin rays of the morning sun peek through the slits of the blackout curtains. The light dancing against your body, illuminating all his favorite features. Which was all of you. He loved the way you would stir, and he would race against time to shut his eyes before you could catch him starring at you.

You always did.

You will never let him know that you knew he always woke up first to love you silently without you or anyone in the world there to interrupt him. It was his most valuable and cherished secret, the only one he kept from you. So, you vowed to take the fact that you knew about it to the grave.

Today though, you had beat him at his own game. You had woken up first, silently watching as his breath was calm and concentrated. The minuscule stress lines that had appeared throughout his face over the years of overwork, nowhere to be seen. He looked peaceful, younger; like he didn’t carry the entire weight of the world on his shoulders.

Despite cherishing his sleep more than anything in the world, you understood now, why he always woke up first. He looked so beautiful, so raw, so intimate, so vulnerable, like a work of art. And you could hope that he felt the same way.

You found yourself never wanting to take your eyes away from his sleeping form, afraid you would miscount the intervals between his inhales and his exhales. Afraid you would miss the way his lips parted in inaudible snores or the way he would pout whenever he moved. Yet, the clock on his bedside table thought otherwise.

8:30am

Last night, you had made a promise to yourself before falling asleep, that you would wake up early to make him breakfast. It was his day off, the office didn’t need their big bad CEO that never once seemed to crack a smile, even if he was impressed or excited. You never understood why he kept such a fake front for his employees when they knew that he was the biggest softy on the planet, especially when it came to his loved ones. He would turn heaven and hell over if it meant he could protect everyone he loved. He would even sacrifice himself to ensure that nothing ever happened to his friends, family, and you. But you supposed that his fleeting image was all part of his job, so you let him be.

You took one last look at your sleeping boyfriend, biting your lower lip, contemplating on whether you should just stay in bed until he woke up. Or get up to prepare him a whole breakfast feast just like he deserved. You almost picked the first option until your stomach grumbled lowly, indicating that the second option was the better option, unfortunately. So, you got up silently, and carefully, afraid that any wrong move would wake him up and ruin your surprise.

The air in your lungs got caught in the back of your throat as you saw him stir slightly. Sleepy incoherent mumbles fell out of his lips. You froze in fear, your robe midway on, watching as he tugged the sheets up to his chin and sunk further into the bed. When you realized he wasn’t getting up anytime soon you finished putting on your robe and quickly made your way into the kitchen.

“You know it’s my day off right?” Yoongi mumbled as he walked into the kitchen, sweatpants low on his hips, his messy hair sticking up in all different directions. A slight blush appeared on your cheeks when you remembered how your fingers had been tangled up in it, as you screamed out his name like a mantra, while he made love to you until the late morning hours.

“And you don’t have to be at work for another three hours.” He wrapped his arms around your waist and gave your temple a sweet kiss, “good morning honey, how’d you sleep?” He rested his head against your shoulder, clinging onto you like he was afraid you would vanish.

“I slept like a baby.” You smiled cutting the last stem of the strawberry you had diligently been working on before he walked in. “Morning to you too sleepy head.” You turned your face, leaving a delicate kiss against his bed head. Yoongi smiled, he loved waking up next to you, admiring you silently as you slept. But he also loved being wrapped up in your warmth as you went around doing your daily morning routine. You always complained about how he never let you get things done. That the extra weight clinging onto you like a koala was only slowing you down. He knew you secretly loved it and would not be able to go about your day peacefully if he just stopped.

In fact, he had tested it out once after the two of you had gotten into a petty fight. You had called him that day at lunch time in tears, claiming that everything had gone wrong because he had ignored you all morning. Truth be told he had felt the same way. That was the day he truly realized that he could never live without you.

“I was hoping you would wake up after I finished making breakfast.” You pouted putting your knife down and gathering all the strawberries you had tentatively cut up putting them into a bowl.

“And I was hoping we could spend the entire morning in bed, but we can’t always get what we want in life can we?” He mumbled against your clothed shoulder. His fingers cheekily playing with the knot of your robe.

You turned in his arms, “all morning? Doing what?” Your arms made their way around his neck pulling him closer.

Yoongi smirked, his fingers itching to untie your robe praying you weren’t wearing anything underneath. “I have a few ideas, some good, some bad. But I mostly just wanted to keep sleeping with you in my arms.” He shrugged, running his tongue along his bottom lip, wetting it before closing the distance and planting a soft, intimate kiss against your lips.

It was savory, enough to keep you on your toes, wanting for more when he pulled away. “Good because I’m still sore from last night.” You said pointedly. Yoongi threw his head back laughing, his chest swelling up with pride as he remembered how you didn’t want to stop after three rounds. Even begging him, getting down on your knees for him in the shower. The two of you still hadn’t christened your newly shared apartment but he was positive that last night would’ve been the night if you hadn’t fallen asleep.

“That’s on you my little minx, you didn’t want to stop, I just fulfilled your desires.” He winked, kissing your cheek and moved aside, an arm still around your waist as he reached over for the Bluetooth speaker he kept in the kitchen.

“Hey!” You scoffed, hitting his chest lightly, “this isn’t completely on me, you came home and didn’t even let me greet you properly before you were carrying me off to our room.”

“Honestly babe, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He smirked as he scrolled through his phone. His eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he looked through his music selection.

“We’re going to have to work on that memory of yours. It's starting to worry me.” You said in fake concern and circled your arms around his waist pulling him close, “I can help.” You whispered before planting a small kiss on the blooming flowers you had left on his chest last night. You could never get enough of him.

“Mhm, I’ll take you up on your offer later.” He set his phone down on the kitchen counter, the soft melody of an unfamiliar song sounding through his Bluetooth speaker. “Right now, dance with me?” He tilted his head to the side. He didn’t give you enough time to answer when he was already leading you to the middle of the kitchen, his arms finding their perspective place around your waist as he started swaying the two of you in place.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, giving his nose a tiny peck, earning a boyish smile from Yoongi. “What is this?”

“A song Namjoon and I are working on...for our wedding.” The afterthought falling out his lips before he had time to stop it. It wasn’t until he felt your body go rigid in his arms that he realized what he had said. “Um, forget I said that.”

“We just moved in together and you’re already planning our wedding playlist, I didn’t think you would be the type. What’s next you’re going to show me the Pinterest board you created?” You joked ignoring the way your heart was racing, hoping he couldn’t feel it through the thinness of your silk robe.

He groaned, annoyed. So what? Maybe he did have a Pinterest board with ideas for your wedding. He had been adding pictures to it since he met you five years ago at Junkook’s grand opening for his art gallery. The second he spotted you laughing along with his best friend, hard enough for champagne to come out of your nose. The ice around his heart melted and he knew he would be spending the rest of his life with you. He’s been writing songs about it ever since.

“Maybe another time, we have enough time for that, right now we have two hours before you have to go to work and I plan on milking every second of it.”

#kdiarynet #kpopscape #bts fanfiction #bts imagines #bts fluff #bts scenarios #bts drabbles #bts fanfic #bts x reader #bts yoongi #bts suga #yoongi fluff #yoongi fanfiction #yoongi imagines #yoongi drabbles

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chiwhorei · 3 years

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𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭

cross-posted to Ao3!

pairing: issei “horse cock” matsukawa x fem!reader

genre: smut, 18+ mdni

word count: ~4.4k

tags: stripper!issei, stripper!seijoh, roommate!oikawa, tendoukawa (bc @heauxzenji said it an it’s now the only ship in my head) dry humping, lap dance, a little corruption, spitting, public, alcohol and recreational drug consumption (weed and coke), spanking, degradation, hardly edited

a/n: howdy! this is my contribution to the smut pile’s western collab and it is so incredibly late but what the hell else is new. the masterlist for the collab can be found here! @messwriting and myself, in true chaotic duo fashion, built an absolutely depraved multiverse of seijoh strippers: the lawbreakers. lee, i love you so much. this journey we’ve been on the past few months has been chaotic and beautiful, and there’s plenty more to come.

the multiverse: hanamaki || iwaizumi || kyoutani

hymn: save a horse (ride a cowboy) by big & rich

and all the girls say— save a horse, ride a cowboy

A fog of smoke burns in your eyes. The room around you feels like it could curl in on itself, four walls marked sparsely with dusty furniture, the smell of weed and cash.

You fix your gaze onto a long, diagonal tear in the leather couch across the must and g-strings, the rip in upholstery is stuffed with wrinkled one dollar bills.

It feels like observing an exhibit at a museum, or a zoo. Lines of coke, random dustings of pot and discarded swisher tobacco, too many open handles of liquor. Sitting on an end table is a bright pink teddy bear with a cowboy hat on it’s head.

How the fuck did you get here?

***

You shift your weight on either foot, arches aching already. The pair of jeans and top you had planned on wearing tonight were all but ripped off of your body, casual boots thrown down the hallway with sadistic glee and replaced with heels that are taller and a dress much too short.

“Damnit, you’re walking too fast.” Your appointed captor turns around dramatically, stopping in his tracks to watch you catch up. The cigarette pressed into his mouth cards in two fingers and extended towards you as a peace offering. You take the half gone stick and bring it to your lips.

Tendou’s mission was simple, drag his boyfriends roommate and best friend-- possibly kicking and screaming-- out for a night she won’t soon forget.

“Were those really necessary, Satori?” You point with the remnants of his cigarette and he feigns a kicked-puppy expression, looking down dramatically at his all black outfit contrasting drastically with a flashy pair of brownish-red cowboy boots.

“I am being a supportive partner. Plus Tooru and I wear the same shoe size.” His hair is bright outlined by the neon sign above the building.

You inhale smoke and nicotine, eying him over once again before continuing.

“Does it bother you when he’s dancing on all of those horny women?” The cigarette butt falls to the ground, you snuff it out while exhaling remnant smoke from your nose, the bachelorette party walking towards the door in a parade screaming emphasizes your question.

Tendou pulls you close, mouth pressing against your neck to bite against the skin. You jerk away from his embrace, with a feeble push against his chest to match the scoff scratching against your throat. The tall red head above you, currently leaned into the dip on your neck, always has an air of vulgar humor and zero personal space.

“Watching my pretty little boyfriend grinding on women that would never stand a chance with him,” he pulls away just in time to catch another eye roll before grabbing your wrist to pull you inside, “I think it’s hot as fuck.”

You stumble behind him, the doorman recognizing your friend immediately and lets the pair of you through tacky saloon doors. You catch a glimpse of the tattered sign standing right next to the entrance.

Lawbreaker’s Presents: The Guys of the Wild West

The club is drastically warmer than outside, the chill in your barely covered limbs thaws in a mixture of stage lights and body heat.

You sigh deeply as the sound of country music fills your ears, seemingly in rhythm with the squawking of drunken hens sipping on tall flutes of champagne. Thinking back briefly to when you first signed the lease with Oikawa, you remember he wore glasses and a sweater vest.

He said he worked as a “fitness instructor.”

“Ah, my two favorite people in the whole world,” Tooru’s ears just have been burning at your recollection, as your roommate appears in front of you in nothing but white spandex shorts and a pair of shiny boots to match, a tray of drinks is placed to the side on an unoccupied table. The white cowboy hat on his head gleamed in the low light of the club, rhinestone star shimmers-- you want to shy away from the bright refraction hitting your eyes.

He looks in his element, completely confident and cocksure as he walks around in only underwear and body oil.

“Aren’t you glad you came out tonight? I promise, you’re going to have a great time.” Oikawa melts into Tendou’s side, he looks just as content in the current atmosphere. Tendou seems at home in any ecosystem he wanders into.

“The show starts in 15, go get yourself a drink and try to pull the stick out of your ass. I’m going to, uhm, wish Tooru an extra special good luck.”

“I really didn’t need to know that, thanks. Tooru, break a leg.” You turn around at the sight of the wandering, tattooed hand on it’s journey south on Oikawa’s abdomen and retreat to the bar. You aren’t shocked by the display, not hardly, not with the two of them using almost every surface in your apartment as a debauched playground.

The space around you is emptier than you imagined it would be, but there is still time before the night actually starts. The bartender approaches just as you sit down on one of the wooden stools, every fixture around you is designed to look like an old saloon-- save for the strobing lights and dj booth.

You order something strong and amber, partially to stay in-theme, partially for the nerves settled in your stomach that draft beer wouldn’t be able to curb.

The woman smiles brightly and turns to pour your liquor, leaving you to pick at a cocktail napkin and await your friend’s return.

“You’re Shittykawa’s roommate.” A stranger's voice is deep and bellowing, sounding high above your ear. You swivel in your seat, gaze meeting a tanned chest instead of a set of eyes. Trailing upwards past thick black tattoos and an unavoidable pair of silver nipple rings.

You can feel the muscles in the back of your neck as they strain to meet his chocolate brown stare, he looks amused as you all but gawk at him.

“Yes, uh, I am. And you’re, uhm--” the train of thought you try to hang onto derailed completely by a devastating smile, “one of Tooru’s co-workers?”

If his smile wasn’t enough, his laugh could level the building around you. Your new friend taps the black Stetson against the bar top before putting it back on his head. He gestures broadly to his attire, or lack thereof, with another disarming and smooth chuckle.

“What gave that one away, darlin’?” You realize how stupid your question sounded, mentally kicking yourself but trying desperately not to show it on your face.

Long, thick legs are wrapped in a pair of leather chaps, the tight fabric hides nothing even if it covers most of his lower half. A matching vest hangs open on his chest, the muscles in his arms look bigger than your head. He seems huge in presence and physique, your own form is a shrinking violet below him.

“Your drink, dear. Double Jack n’ Coke.” The bartender slides a glass towards you, and you accept it with a gracious smile. The distraction is definitely appreciated, any excuse to break the eye contact that has you dissolving like lye.

“Jack n’ Coke, a gal after my own heart.” You choke, a coupling of small coughs break out of your chest. You curse your bodies reaction, you don’t even know--

“You’re name, uh, w-what’s your name.” Casual conversation seems like the best option, because it’s only been two minutes with the almost-naked Casanova and there’s a gnawing feeling that you don’t want him to walk away.

You blame it on the alcohol not yet even running through your veins.

“Call me anything you want, pretty girl, but my name’s Issei.”

A smile creeps from one end of your mouth to the other. His presence is jarring to say the least, but there’s something about the way his teeth peek out past curled lips that makes you want to lean in instead of away.

Tendou calls your name, effectively pulling you out of Issei’s orbit and reminding you where you are. Heat flushes in waves on your face as Tendou wraps his long arms around your shoulders from behind. Acknowledging your new friend with a pointed, “Howdy partner,” before turning to order his own drink.

“Something sweet please, and strong.” You hear his voice singing to the bartender but still face Issei, having his attention is more intoxicating than whiskey. You want him to talk to you, to ask you questions, to grace you with that smile over again.

You feel the ability to breathe escaping when Issei leans into you impossibly close, his hand enclosing around your back and pulling you in so slightly you could swear you imagined it.

“It was nice to meet you. Make sure I hear ya’ out there, darlin.”

You’re left almost falling from the bar stool, watching as Issei strides toward the back. The way his hips sway is unfair in every--

“Hey,” Tendou’s fingers come up to snap in front of your face, “Didya hear me? Let’s go take our seats.”

That’s right; you feel like you’ve just run a marathon, heart beating erratically at the briefest interaction, your night hasn’t even started yet.

You’re dragged directly towards the front of the stage and sat in a small two person table. You agreed to the night out between gritted teeth, hauled to the uber with absolute defiance; but most of your protest has fizzled away-- definitely not due to a pair of deep brown eyes and planes of perfectly tanned skin-- as you get comfortable next to the boisterous bridal party. You can hear their idle, drunken chatter at your back.

“I heard they call one of the dancers ‘Mad Dog’. Apparently he’s totally feral.”

“One of them is nicknamed the ‘Big Tease’, he really likes the pretty little brides~”

“Oh yeah? Well there’s one dancer called ‘Horse Cock’. I’m going to go home with him.”

The women behind you howl with laughter, enjoying their friend’s last night of freedom. The straw in your drink twirls idly, thoughts drifting with each turn of the plastic against your liquor. Surely, Issei had just intended a friendly introduction, he wouldn’t be raking in tips by being unapproachable.

Friendly, you decide, repeating it to yourself until the lights drop and a black curtain is pulled up, he was just being nice.

* * *

The show starts out mostly how you would expect. Through a few sets, toned, beautiful guys take their clothes off and fling articles at the screaming, panting crowd. The table next to you gets the most attention, bridal parties, you assume, would be the prized cash cow.

Oikawa comes out in the most obnoxious, white and teal outfit and strips into nothing but a thong and boots. Every inch of his skin sparkles, the cause becoming obvious when he jumps down to the audience and swivels his hips and ass right into your lap. Your hand comes up to his hip reflexively to brace yourself-- of course, body glitter.

You watch on at the sweaty writhing of the most beautiful men you have ever seen in real life. The atmosphere around you is absolutely contagious, it’s impossible not to fall into the rhythm, losing inhibitions with every stray piece of fabric as it’s tossed into the sea of women.

Just as you lean over to Tendou to admit that you’re enjoying yourself, the next song blasts loudly from the speakers. The beat vibrates your table, soaking into every nerve, but is almost drowned out completely by the shrieking from every patron around you. They must know what’s coming.

Looking back up front, you realize why the crowd is losing their minds. The man that commanded your attention at the bar is even more alluring now. His strut to center stage is deliberate, flashing smiles and winks to no one in particular and hypnotizing every person in his reach.

Issei is stunning in his element, soaking in the reaction with a humble tip of his hat. You could swear, though you’re sure that it’s just your imagination, that he’s looking right at you.

His performance starts out like the rest of them, but each movement of his tattooed hands as they travel over his chest is spellbinding.

Issei discards his leather vest and tosses it to the side, it feels like you’re watching him in slow motion. He’s gorgeous, skin tanned and tight over thick muscle, arms wrapped in black ink and shining with sweat.

His chaps are next, ripped from his legs just as music behind him picks up. The wedding party next to you so loud you swear the laundromat next door can hear.

All that’s left is a thong that’s barely covering his cock. You try desperately not to, but all your eyes can focus on is the bulge under a tiny piece of black leather. Your thighs rub together in search of any relief to the feeling growing hot and slick in your stomach.

He moves like liquid platinum, every long, deliberate swivel of his hips and overt palming over his crotch is enough to cause delirium. He soaks in every whistle and shriek of his name, vibrating on the high of squelching attention.

Issei is a natural. He’s a wild animal, and, along with every other woman there, you wish he would tear you apart with his canines.

He descends the short staircase with a quick stomp of his boots, now making rounds through the crowd. He stops in front of tables at random, invading the space between strangers and collecting wrinkled one dollar bills.

Why does something so blatantly performative feel voyeurous?

All you can do is gawk, ignoring how every time another woman’s hand runs down his abdomen you heat with envy. As he turns away from the bridal party neighboring you, your blood turns ice cold.

Issei has you, unmistakably, in his sights. His eyes pin you, holding you down tightly in your chair as he struts forward. Tendou whistles loudly as the brunette approaches your table. You wonder, in your last moment of cognizance, if Saroti and Tooru had planned your evening in more detail that you originally thought.

“Long time no see, darlin’,” Issei stands over you, and all you can do is stare dumbly up at him, “do ya trust me?”

You don’t answer, not with words, not like he would even hear your quiver over Big & Rich booming through the speakers. His question is stupid, to trust someone you just met so vaguely?

You do. Against any better judgement, you do.

He doesn't give you the chance to ask what he means, stuck in the gooey feeling of his attention. Issei reaches behind you, picking up your half empty glass. He swirls the drink with an almost evil smile before bringing it up to his lips and draining the last bits of whiskey and coke.

Your face reads confused, not putting his intentions together until you feel his thumb pressed against your chin. Issei’s eyebrow quirks, eyes trained on your reaction. You’re options are to shy away, turning back in your seat, running for escape in the bathroom, or--

The gloss on your mouth is sticky as your lips part in obedience. Issei tries to hide his elation, but it’s difficult to remain aloof as your tongue lulls out and your eyes beg him.

Issei’s hold on your chin tightens, nudging you to lean in so he’s only inches away. Your eyes shut lightly, the shouting surrounding you sounds little more than a whisper with the blood rushing in your ears.

You swear you can hear him groan above you as the sharp taste of liquor hits your tongue. Willing your body to cooperate, you swallow the drink with only a small cough.

His face dips down, it seems like a habit now, to brush his promises against the shell of your ear once again.

“You’re an agreeable little thing, I think you can take it.”

His hands are on either side of your chair in a flash, lifting you up with trained, bulging muscles. You fall forward in your seat, bracing against Issei’s chest. Every cell in your body is tight with tension, if you lift your head up to meet the audience’s eyes, you’re sure you’ll crack like glass.

He steals you from relative comfort, shifting your weight in his arms as he ascends back onto stage. You’ve gone limp in his hold, pliant to his will. The unfamiliar presence at a dusty bar top has turned into more than a front row seat to depravity.

You’re thrown off balance as he sets you down, eyes adjusting to the white hot stage lights. You’re exposed to every set of eyes in the building, even if you can’t see him-- you know Satori is smiling from one sharp cheek to the other. Wherever Tooru is, he’s most likely sitting in the same satisfaction.

Aren’t you glad you came out tonight? I promise, you’re going to have a great time.

Issei rounds the back of your chair so his actions are hidden from your view. The brim of a leather cowboy hat breaches your field of vision, much too big for your head.

His hands come down onto your shoulders, snaking down your bare arms. His touch leaves a scorching fleet of chills. Issei runs his finger tips upwards, tracing against your collarbone before wrapping his grip lightly around your neck.

He can feel it, he has to, the racing pulse right under the surface of your skin.

The music transitions effortlessly, going almost unnoticed. The next song, still sharp with a cheesy country twang, is slower, deeper.

Issei’s thumb brushes against your cheek, your body wants to relax into the touch before it remembers how public the gesture is.

You hold in a shaky breath as he comes to stand in your eyeline again, you might as well be bound to your chair with rope. He looks larger than life-- in both stature and presence-- in front of you. His skin is glistening, refracting from the harsh lights with sweat and oil.

He is an unstoppable force against your will. Your desire to hide from the blinding attention is nothing compared to the desire to please. To please a stranger, to please the man you met only an hour ago.

To please Issei.

He flashes you another wink, taking a moment to rake his stair down your body. He memorizes the outline of your cute little dress, red is definitely your color.

Issei slides across the smooth surface of the stage to meet where you’re perched. The barreling, almost naked body now impossibly close to where your knees are pressed together.

He starts at your ankles, tracing the soft skin of your legs until his palms press flatly against your lower thigh. Issei savors the moment for a beat longer before prying your legs apart.

The crowd below you is loud and hollow in your ears, the shame bubbling up against your cheeks and nose is nothing compared to the pressure between your legs.

Issei’s hands wander up and under the hem of your skirt, scratching his nails on the vulnerable skin before they find his prize in the form of thin lace.

The “Wait” and “Stop” sitting on your lips shrivels up and dies as your panties are ripped off. You see the bright color, the last remnants of opposition twirling around his pointer and middle finger.

The crowd goes wild, watching as your body is made a fantasy that they can all live vicariously by. all you can do is watch as the fabric is stuffed into the side of his thong to accompany fistfuls of singles.

* * *

You’re still in shock by the final dance, still under a trance as Tendou pulls you towards the back. Stumbling behind him to catch up, you’re given no time to think about what you’re about to walk into.

A fog of smoke burns in your eyes. The room around you feels like it could curl in on itself, four walls marked sparsely with dusty furniture, the smell of weed and cash.

You fix your gaze onto a long, diagonal tear in the leather couch across the must and g-strings, the rip in upholstery is stuffed with wrinkled one dollar bills.

“I didn’t go too far did I?” Snapping back into reality, you hear Issei call to you. You’re vaguely comforted by a familiar voice before remembering the man attached had spat whiskey into your mouth and stolen your panties just 30 minutes prior. You heat up at the tips of your ears at the recollection of two things you had let him do, that you had wanted him to do.

Your eyes find Issei sitting on the couch on the opposite end of your freshly showered roommate, seemingly unbothered as Tendou flops down against the middle cushion and drapes both arms across the back.

“Don’t worry partner, our girl doesn’t startle easy.” Oikawa laughs, adjusting to sit across his boyfriend’s lap. Issei’s all leather outfit is replaced with a pair of grey sweats. He looks relaxed, effortlessly handsome.

What was it like, you wonder, before you knew how it felt to look at him? Life past the single night feels grey around the edges.

When was the last time you felt this alive?

He takes a sip of a water bottle, wiping off his chin with the large rose tattooed on his hand. You can’t stop staring at them-- the ones that roamed your body in front of a club full of drunk bachelorettes, the ones that traced your skin like he already had the map.

And now you watch those same hands, so new but so inviting, as two fingers curl inward. They pull you as if tightening a rope around your waist. You wade past tall sweaty men and freshly caught audience members as they tangle across dusty furniture.

You scoot by your best friends from where they sit next to Issei, ignoring the slap to your ass and the following laugh from Oikawa in between loud, sloshing kisses.

“Well, little one,” He pats his thigh, inviting you to the spot on his lap rather than the empty seat next to him, “you’re not gonna run away are ya?”

Every nerve in your body is twitching, you’re not sure if you could run if you wanted to.

You don’t.

Issei takes in your small nod of confirmation, pulling you into his hold. The position is awkward at first, perching on his knee as you try to keep your balance. He laughs, his arm snaking around your back so you relax into him. You fidget with your fingers as they lie against your lap, watching the bustling around you. A cloud of smoke settles in the air, you wonder if it’s a permanent haze of tobacco and pot-- the scent is probably painted into the walls.

“Is this what you expected?” Issei’s voice is low and close to your ear, you can feel the smile curled into his question. Your eyes are fixed forward, watching as Tendou pours a small white line into Oikawa’s collarbone and dives in nose first.

“Honestly,” you adjust, kicking your legs up over his other knee, “I’m pretty used to this kind of stuff.”

Even if your usual scene doesn't include a drug filled almost-orgy, you can’t say you’re fazed much. Not with the company you keep.

Even with the circus revolving around you, Issei is the only thing you can see. Everything else falls away but the smell of his body wash and the soft material of his sweats where they meet your naked legs.

His hand rests against your thigh, fingers just above then short hem of your party dress. The metal rings on each digit are cool against your burning skin. You’re sure Issei can feel the heat rising in your stomach as it spreads through your blood.

You feel him lean back, fishing something out of his pocket to set in your hands. You feel every hair stand on edge as the thin cotton drops into your grip, heavy as an anchor.

“You know what I think, darlin’?” Your breath hitches, the room around you squeezing tight against your shoulders, “I think you’re a natural on stage. I bet you would have let me do anything up there.”

A hand wanders down the path of your spine, rough fingerprints stroke past each vertebrae. You arch at the feeling, his skin is like a narcotic. The liquor still swimming in your mind is no match to this, to the heady smell of sex and sweat as it cuts through your senses.

Issei’s right, you’ll let him do anything to you. You’ll beg for it like you’re trying to pass the gates of heaven.

Your body moves of its own volition, legs swinging to straddle his waist. The material of your dress bunches over the curve of your ass, completely exposed to the room around you before being eclipsed by steady palms.

You would be, should be, embarrassed by the display of public depravity. No one around seems to notice, half naked is still more modest than most everyone else. Tendou and Oikawa have dissolved into a pile of spit and clashing teeth next to you, saving you from any snide quips. There’s nothing but Issei, face an inch away from you and lips tempting you to lean forward.

“Would it make you feel better if I told you I don’t usually do this?”

Glassy eyes flick dumbly at the man below you. He sees the wobble of your lip, the glaze in your stare as you memorize every feature on his face. Any reassurance sitting on his tongue dies when you crash your lips against his, hips rolling down into him and knocking him off guard.

Your kiss is searing and drips with finality. You’ve decided what bed you’ll wake up in the morning with your tongue tracing against his molars.

“No, not really.” Foreheads pressed together, it’s your turn to laugh. If you’re honest, you probably made this decision while still sitting at the bar.

You dip back in, emboldened with the bruising fingers digging against the fat of your hips. The feeling of your cunt pressed against his crotch could bring a man to his knees.

He’s not opposed, he’s just gotta get you home first.

#issei matsukawa x reader #issei matsukawa smut #mattsun smut #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #the smut pile collab #the smut pile western collab #the lawbreakers: multiverse #tw: drugs #tw: voyeurism #sin.drugs #sin.voyeurism

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yourmomswallet · 3 years

Text

Stevo & Klepto

"Heya, Punky!"

A plastic bag falls into Stevo's lap as a body flops next to him. Looking to the side, said "Punky" fumbles with the knot of the bag, taking in your black-lipped smile.

"Heeey! What culinary delights have we today, Quick Hands?"

Rattling plastic reveals the carelessly crafted random assortment of candy and cigarettes. A bigger smile replaces the one on your face, almost resembling one of the Cheshire Cat.

"Oh, the usual: lung of cancer and cavity inducers. My cruel mistresses.” You pretend to feel faint as you put your hand to your forehead and collapse onto him. The spikes imprint on your fishnet-clad shoulder, promptly tearing them even more than what you had distressed them to.

“Don’t suppose you happened to snag a lighter, would ya?” Stevo asks, shuffling through the many Dum-Dums and Air-Heads until he finds a pack of Camels.

“Would you happen to have lost this little lady?” You flash him the small Zippo that has seen better days. He looks at your hand and grins that grin that makes your stomach dive off a 10 story building.

“Ya know, I think you’d be a great magician if the whole “functioning member of society” career doesn’t work out, Klepto,” he mumbles out with a cigarette already in his mouth. “Whuh wah ih’? Accoun’an’?”

Flipping the lighter on, you light his cancer stick and grab your own from the carton.

“Actually, it’s computer programmer. Technology is the future, Stevo! Imagine,” you stick the cigarette in your mouth. “Getting information from a computer instead of having to look at a dictionary! O-Or sending messages back and forth with someone across the city in just minutes!” Your hands mimic the different scenarios your cig-muffled mouth exclaims, with Stevo just enjoying his nicotine and sugar.

“Wow! That’s…” he takes a drag, smoke expelling from his chapped lips. “So fucking cool!” He grins at you and your excitement of information expansion via computer connections.

“You ass! I’m being serious here!”

“And so am I! Can’t you see I’m elated for you here?” Arms spread to gesture that he is being serious.

“Oh yeah, make fun of the nerdy goth klepto. Especially the one who shared their klepto-shit with you.”

You flick open the Zippo once more to light your cigarette, only to be met with nothing but a small, meager spark that disappeared just as soon as it appeared. Glowering at the metal, you curse at it. You notice the red tip of Stevo’s cigarette moving around as he starts speaking.

“And have I thanked you for your generous contribution to the poor and needy? I can’t tell you how much this-”

His gratitude is cut off by your sudden physical closeness, then hands on his cheeks.

“Hol’ ‘till,” you tell him, aiming your stick at his.

The cigarette reluctantly lights, and within that seemingly everlasting moment, with tip-to-tip and knee-to-knee, Stevo feels his cheeks warm in your hands. The embers from him slowly light your stick, almost a symbolic testimony to what had been happening over the past few months. Slowly but surely, you’d lit his heart afire with your bright demeanour. Meeting you in the line for chicken pot pie day at the cafeteria, conspiring over the authenticity of the punk in front of you’s piercings, Stevo’s fist connecting with the guy’s face, patching up Stevo in your rundown Oldsmobile much to his chagrin.

The next months led to you spending a suspiciously large amount of time with him just to be considered great friends. His and Bob’s place was almost partly yours, permanent toothbrush and extra underwear indicating your crossing of the friendship line. The only time away from each other was for your job and classes. Stevo couldn’t imagine another day without listening to the latest Cure song you’re playing on repeat or discussing how his parents didn’t like how he was rebelling against the common denominator of the world.

You had created a monster- a poseur, to be exact.

“Good boy!” You praise him, exhaling smoke and ruffling his blue head. He couldn’t take his dilating eyes off the black ring around the tip of the cigarette, even when you pulled on his barbed choker.

“Now, let’s get going! I have coupons for the most lovely Chinese takeout place in town! I hope you’re in the mood for chicken-fried rice!”

#SLC Punk #Steven Stevo Levy #Stevo x reader #reader insert #imagine #fluffy

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the-insomniac-emporium · 3 years

Text

Crimson Ties (Bela Dimitrescu/Reader, Soulmate AU) Pt. 4

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T for language Warnings: None for this chap Genre: Hurt + comfort Summary: Sure, your soulmate may be a vampire (of sorts), but there's nothing that love can't conquer, right?... Maybe it's time you learn a little more about the odd circumstances of your soulmate's existence- and the fear that lies beneath the surface. Notes: If the last chapter was "hurt" followed by comfort, this is "comfort" followed by hurt, also known as the part where the story's central conflict comes into play. Features an appearance from Daniela, who reminds us that Cassandra's not the only one with a sharp tongue around here. Previous Chapters: 1: Stem the Flow, 2: Tangled Strands, 3: Rumbling Thunder

4: That Which Burns

“Of all the stars, the fairest,” Bela murmurs in your ear, keeping her arms wrapped loosely around your waist, before giving you a gentle kiss on the cheek. If you hadn’t already been blushing, you certainly would have now done so. You’re leaning into her touch, face flushed as can be, loving every moment of this. For a while now you’ve been curled up with her, while she reads excerpts from her favorite works. Although both of you would have preferred to do this outside, enjoying the view of the stars, you figured it would be best not to push your health too much. After all, you had lost a huge percentage of your blood. Well, temporarily, but it was still better to be safe than sorry.

“That’s probably my favorite line from Sappho,” you chimed, fondly remembering some of your schooling. “Though the one about being remembered always stands out to me. I’m not sure I remember it correctly, and I’m sure it’s been translated a few different ways over the years… but I think it’s ‘someone, I tell you, will remember us in another time’. Might have gotten that backwards, actually.” Giving an awkward little smile, you sheepishly rub the back of your head with one hand. “Either way it feels so romantic. To think of a love so strong that it echoes throughout time, fondly remembered for generations… it warms the heart.”

“Mhmm, most definitely, my dear. Many aren’t as lucky, however,” Bela laments, an odd expression crawling onto her face. There’s the slightest waver to her lower lip as she speaks. Concerned, you turn in place to get a better look, gently reaching out to caress her cheek. Is there something I’m missing? You think, wondering what you should say. “I’m alright, I promise. Merely distracted by a fleeting thought. Let’s read another, yes?” Before you can protest, she’s already turned to another page, starting to read as if she already knew which one was next (which would not, at all, surprise you).

Love shook my heart, Like the wind on the mountain, Troubling the oak-trees

“Oh, if only I could speak Aeolic Greek, so that I could serenade you with tender prose, all the days of your life… just as it was originally written. Wouldn’t that be lovely?” Bela offers, once again smiling wide, as if nothing in the world was wrong, at least not when you were by her side. Though you are not keen to ignore her earlier stroke of misery, you are equally reluctant to put a damper on her current upswing. Now what were you to do? Little comes to mind, other than the simplicity of human warmth, and so you lean once more into her embrace, head held aloft on the strength of her shoulder.

“Here, as I am now, is more than lovely enough. Your voice is soothing in any language, sweet as sugar, relaxing as can be,” you reassure her in your softest tone. Heart fluttering, she finds herself easing back into the comfort of the moment, forgetting all about her earlier woes. “Shall we read another?” Nodding, Bela again turns the page and begins to read:

He’s equal with the gods, that man Who sits across from you, Face to face, close enough to sip Your voice’s sweetness

And what excites my mind, Your laughter, glittering. So, When I see you, for a moment, My voice goes,

My tongue freezes. Fire, Delicate fire, in the flesh. Blind, stunned, the sound Of thunder, in my ears.

Shivering with sweat, cold Tremors over the skin, I turn the colour of dead grass, And I’m an inch from dying.

“Does that make me equal to the gods, then?” You ask, as soon as the last line is given its moment to shine. A small hum comes from your soulmate, who seems equal parts intrigued and confused. “I look in your eyes and my lungs light on fire, my heart ricochets around my chest, and I hear the chorus of angels singing your holy praises. The fact that I can manage to speak at all is confounding. Maybe the muses have seen fit to lend me their artistry, so that I might make conversation worthy of your existence, my dear.” With that said, you find yourself being squeezed gently, Bela placing another kiss against the top of your head. Now, it seems she is the one without the ability to speak. “The divine witnessing the divine, yes?... Let me read the next one, and we’ll see if my voice could ever compare to your own.”

It’s innocent enough, your choice. A turn of the page, just another poem, selected for nothing more than respect for chronology. Yet something drains from the space around you as you begin to read, so subtly slow that you hardly notice.

Girls, you be ardent for the fragrant-blossomed Muses’ lovely gifts, for the clear melodious lyre: But now old age has seized my tender body, Now my hair is white, and no longer dark

How were you to realize that the great shadow of fear loomed over your soulmate, when she had refused to name it mere minutes ago? How were you to know to halt your reciting, when the aching of her heart rendered her throat dry, and she could not bring herself to call out to you? Words poured like poisoned wine from your lips… your soulmate having no choice but to drink up every last drop.

My heart’s heavy, my legs won’t support me, That once were fleet as fawns, in the dance I grieve often for my state; what can I do? Being human, there’s no way not to grow old

A shaky breath from age-old lungs, exhaled into tense air, forced out past a trembling jaw. Say something, Bela tells herself, any poem but this. For a split second you pause, and she wonders if her thoughts have found new light in your own mind. But you break the momentary silence without much care, simply having been unsure of your pending pronunciation of an old name, perfectly unaware of your partner’s panic.

Rosy-armed Dawn, they say, love-smitten Once carried Tithonus off to the world’s end: Handsome and young he was then, yet at last Grey age caught that spouse of an immortal wife

At last her ordeal was over. The final words hang heavy in the air, weighing down her shoulders, but they are done. Her fears had been dragged out from the pit in her stomach, now waving about like dirty laundry. There was only one way for her to avoid this happening another time: Tell you the truth. By now her silence had earned your attention, with you turning in her lap again, concerned gaze meeting her hollow one. Gently, she gives you a reassuring squeeze.

“I… am not one to balk at the nature of things, however painful the truth. Yet I hesitate now, with the very person I am bound to with crimson ties… How cowardly of me,” Bela all but snarls, anger clearly not directed at you. It’s clear in the way that she holds herself that she has more to say. There’s not much you can do other than wait, though you do tuck an arm around her waist, beginning to rub soft circles against her back. “Allow me to drop the pretenses. You are not immortal, but I am. We’ve only been together for a day and a half, and already I’m worrying about your lifespan. It’s safe to say that this particular poem was an unfriendly reminder of our situation.”

Oh. How exactly were you supposed to respond to that?... Your girlfriend- your soulmate- was immortal. Hmph, as if her essentially being a vampire hadn’t already been enough to freak you out. Now this? Well, maybe it wasn’t too much farther of a stretch from the last revelation, even if you were still recovering from that one. Even then, something told you that this was equally hard for Bela- both to say, and to simply feel. As if she needed more stress surrounding her partnership with you…

“Of all the ways for us to mimic legends… I don’t even know what to say, my dear. I… I suppose that I can only reassure you that we will make the most of every moment we have. However much time we are destined to get, we’ll make sure it is filled with bliss,” you reply, slowly, making it up as you go. An ache builds in the center of your chest as you talk, an internal yearning for greater confidence. Although words were your “weapon” of choice, you were not always a master in your use of them, too human to be infallible. “Maybe we should set aside the poetry for now, shift our focus to something, ah, less meaningful?”

“That would be for the best,” Bela agrees, already shifting like she was going to stand up, before you even had a chance to get off of her lap. Something strange had fallen over her expression, an invisible veil, putting an uncomfortable distance between the two of you. Inside your chest, a thundering heart threatens to go still. Had you done something wrong? Did you commit some unspoken sin? Together the two of you rise, in sync yet more separate than before, a thousand questions and anxieties rendering both of you silent...

—————————

Across the room from you, a pair of bright eyes watch your every movement, peering out from over an open book. If you didn’t know better, you might have thought that the “ruse” was intentionally poor. But for all the five hours you had known her, Daniela Dimitrescu had done nothing other than prove herself odd, clumsy, and quite possibly… overconfident. Admittedly, that still made her undeniably more pleasant than Cassandra. If you had to be stuck alongside someone other than your soulmate, well, ‘twas best that it was this strange redheaded gremlin. Even if she had expressed an unfortunate interest in eating you.

Gods, what is wrong with this family? You think, frowning a tad, unable to stop yourself from making eye contact with Daniela. Instantly she’s looking away, pretending to be engrossed within her book. The very same book that had remained open to the same page for half an hour now. I do hope Bela is having more fun right now, with whatever “business” called her away so unexpectedly. She hadn’t seemed happy to have to leave your side, earlier tension notwithstanding. Coming here to the library had been her suggestion, though you doubted she knew that Daniela was there, or at least hadn’t anticipated her sister’s unnerving behavior. Already the redhead was looking back at you, even less subtly than before.

Sighing, you decided that you could only put up with so much of this tomfoolery.

“Are you in need of something? Or is there something on my face?” You ask, setting your own book aside as you do. There’s a few moments of silence, as Daniela glances around the room, as if you might actually be speaking to someone else. When no scapegoats teleport to her rescue, she very awkwardly clears her throat, then moves to sit at your table. Though you are loath to admit it, your heart starts beating faster as she approaches. Not out of attraction, hell no, rather fear. Perhaps getting her attention hadn’t been the wisest choice after all…

“I just think it’s funny,” Daniela chimes, trailing off just long enough to run a finger down the length of your arm, “that Bela abandoned you so quickly. You’re so… fragile. Cassandra told me about the fun little introduction you had to our family- the blood loss, being chained up, the fear you felt when you got caught in our territory.” Suddenly she’s devolving into a fit of giggles, hand resting not-so-gently on your wrist. When you try to pull away, her nails dig in, and her gaze snaps back to your own. “But you don’t remember that part, do you? If you did… oh, we’d have to lock you up, like the little pet you are, to keep you from running away. I’m sure Bela wouldn’t mind seeing you in chains.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” You snap, uncharacteristically furious. While it was true that you couldn’t recall exactly how you made it into the castle’s dungeons, you refuse to accept Daniela’s implications about your soulmate, or her assessment of your dedication. A brief second passes where you think she’s about to lunge towards you. Instead, she withdraws her hand, moving it to prop up her chin instead. Then, her lips slowly drag upwards into a wicked grin, wide eyes filled with dangerous amusement.

“So you’re more than a wannabe Shakespeare, after all? A bit more teeth, a touch more vulgarity, maybe a twinge of bloodlust, and you might actually fit in around here. Not enough to get our family’s ‘gift’- our secret to a long, happy life- but enough that Bela won’t grow bored of your sappy poems,” she teases with another string of laughter. Before you can question her about this ‘gift’, she’s all but jumping to her feet, stretching out her arms as she does. “I can’t wait to update Cassandra about you. We’ll be betting on how entertaining you’ll end up being. Try to keep from bailing on my dear sister too soon, alright?”

Just like that she’s disappearing into a swarm of flies, leaving you more confused (and angry) than ever. Taking a deep breath, you try to focus on what you need to do next: Find Bela. Talk to her. Get some goddamn answers.

#bela dimitrescu x reader #bela dimitrescu #resident evil: village #re8 village #got some fluff got some angst #casual reminder that daniela is capable of being just as cruel as cassandra #just normally a different kind

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kurtbastion · 3 years

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ADULT KURTBASTIAN FIC RECS:

Dream verse by aworldofis (series/ doesn’t end all tied in a bow but I highly recommend)

Kurt's building up his designer career when he meets Sebastian, a model whose snark is exceeded only by his stubbornness to get Kurt to go out with him. But before the couple can take things further, Sebastian needs to tell Kurt he's HIV positive.

Can’t Buy Me Love by thatsoulformeisinyou (multi-chap) AGE GAP

In which both Kurt and Sebastian are terrible at not falling in love and even worse at expressing it. It turns out as well as you might expect.

Or, the one where Kurt is a 19 year old massage therapist that 31 year old Sebastian propositions for sex but they fall in love instead. It's kind of a disaster because they're both idiots, but it turns out alright in the end.

Make me Happy by iaminarage* (series) FOUND FAMILY

After spending two years out on tour with Wicked, Kurt Hummel is finally back in New York and ready to take the next step in his career. What he’s not ready for is the sudden reappearance of Sebastian Smythe. This is the story of a career, a relationship, and a group of friends finding their way in the city they all love.

Runaways by larina713 (multi-chap) AGE GAP

After Rachel moves out to an apartment closer to her blossoming Broadway career, Kurt struggles to make ends meet while only have one roommate left, Santana. At her suggestion he applies for the open bartender slot at the hottest gay bar/club in NYC, Runaways. The owner of Runaways, Sebastian, has only a few rules. 1) Be on time. 2) Don't use your real name when working behind the bar. 3) Flirt as much as you want and appear available. 4) Never actually be available. To Kurt the rules are just fine and the money is even better. Life however has the tendency to hand Kurt lemons, which just so happen to make a great garnish for vodka tonics.

When All my Flaws Counted by iaminarage (one shot) BEST FRIENDS TO LOVERS

Sebastian Smythe doesn’t like to talk about his feelings, not even to his best friend, Kurt. But when he gets really drunk, sometimes he spills his secrets.

This Will Be Our Year by iaminarage* (one shot) OLYPMPICS

It’s the summer before the 2014 Olympics and Kurt Hummel knows that, after his surprise bronze medal at the 2013 World Championships, this is going to be the most important season of his life. He has two goals: First, make the US Olympic team, and second, come home with a medal. With everything on the line, he can’t afford to have anything to disrupt his training. Enter US Champion Ice Dancers Santana Lopez and Sebastian Smythe who have just begun training at Kurt’s rink.

Labor Day by artist_artists (one shot)

Sebastian helps Kurt plan out a date for the guy at his office he has a crush on, but things don't go exactly as planned.

Three Date Rule by artist_artists (one shot)

Kurt has a three date rule, but Sebastian makes it really hard to follow.

somewhere in the mess by iamsiriuslyriddikulus (one shot): HISTORICAL

90's AU. Kurt and Sebastian are set up on a blind date by Santana, but unbeknownst to her, they have a history.

These Distances by artist_artists (series): DADDIES! LONG DISTANCE

In the years since Kurt and Sebastian last saw each other at Regionals in 2012, their lives have taken very different paths. Sebastian’s a single dad and a soap opera star living in LA, and Kurt’s living with his parents in Lima after struggling to make ends meet in New York. When their loneliness leads them both to the online fandom of a television show they love, their lives become intertwined in a way neither of them anticipated.

Until it Happens by Teapdropfires (one shot): CO-WORKERS, INFIDELITY

Kurt Hummel is perfectly content with his life. He is successful, he's in love, he is happy - albeit just a little bored. He's fine until Sebastian, his annoying new co-worker, comes into the picture. He's fine, until it he's not.

If Work Permits by artist_artists (multi-chap):* FAKE DATING, BASED ON ANOTHER MEDIA

BASICALLY: Green card marriage fic with Sebastian as the editor-in-chief at a fashion magazine and Kurt as his assistant.

The Days by Hanakimicali (multi-chap/ read the tags):

A glimpse into the lives of Kurt Hummel and Sebastian Smythe, on the same day every year. How often can two lives overlap over the span of ten years?

Between the Shadow and the Soul by Sugarkane_O1* (multi-chap/ READ THE TAGS): MAFIA ROMANCE

Kurt never dreamed that in order to have it all and marry the man he loved he'd also have to marry the mob, but that was a sacrifice he was more than willing to make for a life with Sebastian.

The Best Approach to Being True by artist_artists (one shot):

It isn't until Sebastian loses Kurt that he realizes he never really had him in the first place.

The Distance Between Us by bastiankurts (multi-chap): LONG DISTANCE

When Kurt is offered the opportunity to work on a placement overseas for a few months that will significantly help towards his future career prospects, both he and Sebastian find themselves caught up in a long distance relationship. However, with Sebastian unable to tell Kurt of his true fears and worries of Kurt going to Milan, and with Kurt's own focus being primarily that of the work that he's doing out there, things become significantly more tricky than either of them first pictured.

* fics on my top 10 kurtbastian fic list!!

#kurtbastian fanfiction #my recs!!#kurtbastian #this has been sitting in my drafts for weeks #I forgot about it 😓#anyway here is my last rec post (for now)

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buckysgoldenheart · 3 years

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Angel in the Dark

Demon!August Walker x Reader

Summary: After a one-night stand, or what you thought would be one, a demon drags you to his world and forces you to grow wings like he has so you would have to stay with him, unable to permanently return to Earth.

Notes: (So this is like a one-shot that is little snippets/summary of something I might turn into a multi-chaptered fic. I’m not sure if I’m going to do that yet or if anyone would even like this idea, but if it seems a bit choppy, this is why.) I know its been an age and a half since i posted anything, but college, ya know? Also to those who have made requests, I have started all of them and they are to be posted next. I just started this fic a long time ago. I havent written anything for a while so it might actually kinda suck.

Warnings: Implied smut, kinda. Unhealthy attachment on August’s end. If I make this chaptered then there would be actual smut. I think cursing. Eventual Stockholm syndrome if continued.

Words: 1713

Angel in the Dark

You didn’t believe in fate, not really. You didn’t believe your life was predestined or anyone else’s to play with. It was yours alone, to make choices, good or bad. Only you decided when you did things and where you did them. And no one would have ever been able to convince you otherwise, until you met him.

Seeing him in that club, kissing him before you knew his name, now you couldn’t help but feel was in some way a trick, manipulated in his favor. That maybe bumping into him, quite literally, was his orchestration. Maybe whether you spoke to him or not, he had his sights set on you, and a one-night stand was never going to just get to be a one-night stand.

It was all too simple. Meeting you and not taking advantage, kissing you but following your lead, sleeping with you like you meant something to him. It didn’t add up. You could sense the kind of man he was; dominating and possessive. Too dominating and possessive to be as gentle with you as he had been. And all of it fell into a perfect line for what you now realized he wanted from you: not just sex, but more; nothing less than your life. But admitting all of that to yourself was entertaining the possibility that you were stalked like prey and any training at staying away from bad men had been a useless waste of time.

-------------------------------------------------

It was the third day, third of eight. August promised the pain would subside as the days passed, but so far he was proving to be a liar, not to your surprise. Every few hours, the wings ripped your skin wider to accommodate their size as they grew from the inside of your body pushing out. At three days, they were now the span of a couple feet, shining an opalescent white in the glare of the sun.

As you laid on your stomach, frozen in place against the mattress, wings bloodied and draped across your back with your eyes closed tight, you tried to understand the depth of the pain; how it was able to hurt the way it did. The feeling couldn’t compare to anything Earth may dare to offer. So different, so unnatural in its entirety, and indescribably excruciating. It was merciless, not letting you escape, not letting you find the will to walk without your bones threatening to crack. You could barely speak for fear fire would thrust itself up from your lungs and incinerate your throat. It was all-consuming, swallowing your body whole instead of localizing where the skin of your back had shredded open.

“Just a few more days,” August said, and you flinched at his voice. Every time he spoke it was a shock he was still there beside you, with his massive, black wings hanging over the back of the chair he sat in. Those monstrosities weren’t attached to his muscled back when you met him; nowhere in sight when he was in your bed.

August dabbed at your broken and bleeding skin with a cool cloth, eliciting little whimpers passed your chapped lips. “I know it hurts, Angel.”

“Don’t—" You forced out despite the heat in your throat, acid on your tongue, waves of nausea you knew would follow. “…C-Call me that.”

He sighed and continued to wipe the blood from your naked body. “I wish you wouldn’t say that. When the time is up, you’ll feel so much better about this, about me, and you’ll see how beautiful they are. You’re already so gorgeous, the wings will only add to your beauty.”

“I di-didn’t want--

“Don’t talk, Angel,” he said. “I know how you’re feeling about this right now, but humans are not allowed to live in this world. I had to do this so you can stay.”

You screamed as the wings tore your skin open a few more centimeters, and August quickly scooted his chair closer to brush the hair from your face.

He softly shushed you the way one might soothe a kitten, before leaning down and placing a kiss to your sweaty forehead. “It’s ok. I’m not going to leave your side.”

You would have slapped at him, pushed him away with all your might if you had the strength, but your lungs were tightening, body burning as if it had been licked by the sun. You were dying, slowly morphing into a horrid creature from fantasies, leaving behind any trace of humanity. In your veins you could feel something coursing and altering your DNA. You knew you still looked like you, for the most part, but you weren’t you, not anymore. All because you met a man who got attached and wouldn’t let you go. All because he couldn’t remain in your world and decided with certainty that if he couldn’t be in yours, he would drag you to his. A place some believed in and some didn’t, a place no one could prove the existence of, now your iron cage.

------------------------------------------------

It was five more nights of torture before you felt like you could really breathe again, and even then, the oxygen was just as foreign as the pain you had trudged through, and you found little comfort in it fully filling your lungs.

“You’re awake.”

His smooth voice drew your eyes away from the scenery out the bedroom window; the first glimpse of true, heavenly beauty you’d seen since he brought you here. But you weren’t convinced it wasn’t an illusion crafted by his devilish fingers for your comfort. Much like his own beauty, a trick tempting you to call off your desire to leave this world and go home. You tried your best to ignore how perfect he looked; the curls of his hair, the scruff of his jaw, the black wings you first saw the night you met him when they had suddenly appeared only after you’d slept together.

“And you’re standing already. I hoped to come help you, but you’re clearly much stronger than I was after I had to grow my own wings.”

Your eyes flashed in anger before your tore them away from his, back to the rolling hills overlapping one another outside your window. The breeze rustling your hair, the chirp of the birds, the glisten of the sun off the small lake dotted in the landscape, distracted you from August’s approach. You stilled at his breath hitting the back of your neck, but when he slipped his rough fingers through the layers of your shimmering feathers you couldn’t contain the shiver that shot through your body. His own black ones ruffled when his skin touched his creation.

“So beautiful,” he whispered.

“I’m glad you’re proud of your work.”

August let out a puff of air, a weak laugh. “My work? Angel, this was all you. I knew they would be beautiful if they were going to be a part of you, but you really outdid yourself.”

Twisting your body fast, you met him chest to chest, your eyes burning with a heat to match the devil. “I outdid myself? You forced this on me. You injected me with that—that poison without my permission.”

“And you survived. Not many can say the same. You’ve come out stronger.” Fingers trailed through your feathers again and you ignored the heat it sent to your core.

“I’ve come out of this wanting to kill you more than I did before,” You said, shifting the wing back and away from his reach.

Without a moment to pass, August gently grasped your chin between his thumb and index finger as his gaze landed on your lips. “That will fade with time,” he whispered, then inched his face closer. You shoved him away just before his lips could meet yours, and August stumbled back with a chuckle. “Certainly stronger.”

“I’m not going to let you kiss me,” you snapped.

“Not today, it would seem.”

“Not ever again!” Somehow the words felt wrong, each one more sour than the last. Wrong, as if your lips called to his and a portion of your mind was so disappointed at the fight you were going to force it through by trying to keep yourself away from him. But it was a small portion, and the rest of you was much stronger.

“We will see, Angel,” He crossed his arms. “You and I have eternity. One day you will wake up and realize I am all you have, I am all you want, and this memory will be lost. All you will know is me and my touch and our world.”

As he spoke, his eyes held a gentle sincerity that you wished wasn’t there. You wished the blue of them wasn’t so calm and casual and certain of the way he was feeling. Shaking your head, you matched his stance. “You’re a monster,” you said. “You really are, and here I thought I’d seen the worst of monsters, but clearly not.”

August slowly stepped back into your space again, catching you off guard with a flush to your cheeks as he loomed over you. But you kept his stare, even with your back against the wall, wings spread against the stone. “You may breathe your sweet words all you’d like, Angel, but it changes nothing,” He said, running a knuckle down your cheek. “If I am a monster, I am your monster, and I’m not going anywhere.” Smiling, his eyes glanced at your lips again. “Luckily for me…neither are you.”

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