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qwimchii · 1 year

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𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘭 (pt. 6) — 𝘴𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘳𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘺

playlist pt. 1 pt. 2 pt. 3 pt. 4 pt. 5 pt. 6 pt. 7 pt. 8 (10/24)

𝘨𝘶𝘯𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳!𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘹 𝘧!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺 — 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘢 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘤𝘩𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘢𝘯 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘢 𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘰𝘸𝘯, 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘥 𝘸𝘦𝘴𝘵'𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘭𝘢𝘸, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘭 𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘸𝘤 — 13.1k

𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘦 — 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧, 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵, 𝘴𝘮𝘶𝘵

𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴/𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘴 — 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘥𝘸𝘦𝘴𝘵!𝘢𝘶, 141𝘨𝘢𝘯𝘨!𝘢𝘶, 𝘨𝘶𝘯𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳!𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵, 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵𝘥𝘰𝘮!𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵, 𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘥!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳, 𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 (10𝘺𝘳𝘴), 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘢𝘭𝘤𝘰𝘩𝘰𝘭, 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥 & 𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦, p. in v, 𝘱𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘬, 𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘴𝘦𝘹, 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘳𝘪𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘴𝘪𝘻𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘬, 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘫𝘰𝘣, 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘧 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘶𝘱𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘬, 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘬 (𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘢?), 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘚𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘈𝘕𝘋 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 😵‍💫, 𝘥𝘦𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘱𝘶𝘴𝘴𝘺 𝘥𝘳𝘶𝘯𝘬 𝘴𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯

note: i really hope this isn’t too angsty and confusing? also i noticed the atrocious amount of typos i had in the last part and holy moly... hopefully this one had less because i very lightly proofread it 😭 but if it does i am sorry (im really lazy about proofreading help 😵‍💫)….

two months later

you had not talked to Simon for two weeks. you had not even seen him for days.

the last time you did, it was late at night in the office.

most nights, just like days ago, you were up late working, rain pelting against the window where you typed at your desk, just the irregular patter of rain filling the empty office and the quick clatter of the character keys beneath your fingers. there was a sharp ache in your shoulders and you sighed, rolling them back and wincing at the cracks along your spine.

rolling your head back, you looked at the desk beside your own—painfully empty in the dim lighting.

as promised, one-four-one had filled the gaping power chasm within the western frontier, shifting headquarters to the capital of the west and buying several properties on every key corner of the sprawling city—much like the brand new townhouse you called an office.

not many rival gangs had stood up to the power shift because they couldn’t. widespread federal crackdowns had swept through the city. the anonymity of one-four-one had still been preserved—though over time, you had grown to doubt that—and one-four-one had won the war.

it didn’t feel like it though. it felt like you were in hiding all over again, but not from Turner’s men. it was the law this time.

now, at least, one-four-one disclosed all business endeavors to you.

you poured over their financial bookings. Simon had grumbled about it, saying something like it was dangerous for you to be so involved, but it didn’t matter much anyway. you were their main operation of business now, and all ordeals went through you… and your father’s saloon chain.

Kate implored, with the heat of the law breathing down one-four-one’s back, that they needed a legal guise for their illegal ventures. and you offered the saloon chain as an outlet so long that you would remain the major shareholder.

one-four-one had agreed and Simon, albeit grudgingly, with a grumpy disposition, had agreed.

but establishing a saloon in every town, city, and borough of one-four-one’s proved to be difficult, making Simon busy and you even busier.

eyes darting back down to the empty desk, you missed the vacant absence by your side nonetheless. rubbing at your face, you decided to call it quits, reaching over to turn off the lamp at your desk. the room plunged into darkness, and only the murky light of the moon seeped through the window.

a chill swept through the place and you couldn’t help but shiver, swiping away all papers and materials into the filing cabinet beside your desk when there was a knock at the back door of the office.

“who is it?” you called, sliding the drawers shut and wiping your palms against your dress.

when there was no response, you paused, craning your neck to peer at the door. through the opaque glass, you could make out a tall, shadowed figure at the door.

sighing, you snatched a revolver from your purse, cocking it just in case, and strode over to the door to twist it open.

“business hours are closed—” you began, looking up to the tall figure in the entrance, breath hitching when you saw a familiar scarred face.

Simon looked tired—more tired than you remembered him after two weeks. maybe older too, you worried, watching the downpour roar of rain slip off his trench coat. he just watched you with quiet eyes and a blank expression, swaying slightly in the doorway, which only worried you more.

“Simon—” you said, voice pinched as you reached out to him, then muffled a yelp when he suddenly lurched forward and pressed his wet body to yours.

your hand was still outstretched when he curled into you, big body bent down to wrap around your waist and pull you flush to him.

“missed you,” his whispered, pressing his nose into your neck, then kissing there. the water seeping through your dress made you shiver and he rubbed at your sides, like he was trying to warm you.

an overwhelming crash of confusion wracked you. Simon wasn’t due to be back for a while. at least a few more weeks. nonetheless, you twisted your hands into his clothes, amazed to find him solid and real in front of you.

“Simon. why are you here—?”

he pulled back from your neck and suddenly pressed his lips to yours, the kiss cold and wet from the rain, his stetson tipping off his head when he angled his head to kiss you deeper, messier, his teeth knocking into yours as his tongue dipped through your lips.

you muffled a squeak, trying to match the fast movements with your own, curling your arms around his neck and letting the revolver clatter to the floor. when his tongue brushed against yours, there was a rich and bitter taste in your mouth, and you gasped. alcohol.

you pressed against his chest and he pulled back with a disgruntled noise, frowning, before trying to kiss you again. but you pushed him away by his jaw and his frown only deepened.

“why?” he asked softly, brows furrowed.

you rubbed his chest, quelling the hurt look on his face to melt away.

“you’re drunk, Si,” you whispered back before gently tugging him towards the vacant chair in the office.

when he sat in it, the chair groaning under his weight, he tried to pull you onto his lap, fingers curling around the back of your thighs and tugging you forward. when you didn’t budge, he huffed, and jerked you forward with enough force that you fell into his lap with a yelp.

“Simon—!”

he curled you up into his lap, snaking an arm around your waist and the other up your chest, hand gripping at your shoulder to keep you locked against him. with a sigh, you let it happen, smoothing your dress free of its wrinkles Simon had just created. his eyes lazily followed the movement, nose pressed into your cheek and hot breath against your skin.

“pretty dress,” he remarked, squeezing you tightly. you just rolled your eyes.

you were about to give him a sarcastic quip when, voice deceptively soft, he asked, “why are you avoiding me?”

the breath left your lungs, and you went very still.

when you didn’t give a verbal response, Simon shifted beneath you, just winding around you tighter.

“supposed to be my wife,” he said, forehead sinking into your neck. his voice was so somber that you had to stifle a laugh of disbelief.

“you haven’t even proposed,” you reminded him. he just grumbled something you couldn’t hear, words smothered against your skin.

you didn’t know why you were avoiding him.

Soap had told you—very briefly during one-four-one’s inhabitation of san francisco—that it gets worse before it gets better. he had said it so briefly that you hadn’t know what he meant, didn’t really think it meant anything, until your life resumed in a new bustling city that felt impossible to get accustomed to.

now you know exactly what he meant. swallowing hard, you willed the thoughts away, burying them under a thick layer of bitter denial that Simon sniffed out like a hound.

“marry me then,” he offered, and you pinched the skin of his wrist.

“no. you’re not proposing to me while you’re drunk.”

he huffed out. “why not?”

you ignored him. “why were you drinking?”

when he was silent for a long moment, you smothered a smile of victory, feeling like you had won for some stupid reason.

then, he grumbled out quietly, “you were ignorin’ me.”

the smile slid from your face.

after a pause, you hiked up your dress, uncaring for indecency when you twisted in his hold, hooking your thighs around his in the chair. he gripped your hips tightly, looking up at you with hooded eyes. the small, unpleasant twist of his lips soured any warm feeling in your chest.

“m’not ignoring you,” you said softly, reaching up to brush the tangle of his blonde hair from his brow. his hair was getting too long now—the close shave on the sides of his head shaggy and unkempt.

he looks pretty anyway, you decided dreamily, kissing his forehead gently. his hands slid up to your waist, gripping you tighter.

“feels like it,” he grumbled and you suppressed a smile.

“sorry,” you said, the ache in your chest only swelling when you noticed the crestfallen look in his dark eyes.

“i’ve been busy,” you admitted, rubbing a comforting hand over his chest.

he just pulled you closer, forehead knocking against your shoulder. his hands crept up to your upper back now, clutching at your dress.

“so have you,” you pointed out.

he mulled in silence, hands sliding back down your torso, a shiver wracking you in his hold. then, he dropped his hands to your legs, fingers brushing over your legs as he edged up your dress, hands sliding beneath the fabric to play with the hem of your drawers. the leather of his gloves was cool against your skin.

“Simon,” you chided, blushing when his fingertips slithered beneath the fabric.

“missed you,” he reiterated, grip firm on your upper thighs as he pulled you tight against his hips. the blush bloomed across your ears and neck when you felt his hard arousal beneath his pants.

“not in my office,” you hissed, and he grumbled.

“you were gonna shoot me,” he complained, picking his head up to glare at the revolver that lay forgotten across the carpet floor, just by Simon’s fallen stetson.

you rolled your eyes. “i was not gonna shoot you.”

“you should make it up to me,” he interjected, voice a seductive, low rumble.

with another roll of your eyes, you swatted at him, pulling off his lap despite the string of expletive protests that left his lips.

you knew him too well to be fooled by his manipulative seductive tendencies. instead, you gathered your items and your purse, ignoring his big, sukling body beside yours. when he tugged at your dress, and you ignored him again, he made a sad noise.

upon observing the dark cloud of disapproval that roiled off his body, and the deep scowl on his face, you promised, “later Si.”

at that, he perked up, looking hopeful as he followed you to the back door of the office. you picked up your revolver on the floor and shoved it in your purse. opening the door to the pouring rain outside, you sighed, wishing you had an umbrella as you craned your neck out into the night.

instead, Simon picked up his stetson from the floor and pushed it onto your head. it was too big on you and tipped forward, concealing your vision of the city streets. at that, he huffed a laugh and drew you closer, hitching up his coat so that you were tucked beneath his arm and the flap of his trench coat.

“lead the way, lovely,” he said, voice tinged with an amused lilt as you frowned, tilting his hat back so that you could see as he led you down the little steps from the office and out onto the street—bound for his horse by the cobbled sidewalk, the black stallion stomping in the rain. bound for home.

looking over at Simon whose eyes were trained ahead, you took in his content, handsome profile with a greediness, only realizing just then how much you had missed him. down to the very bones of your body, you had missed him.

just then, you couldn’t help but feel that you were already at home in his arms.

but that was days ago.

Soap had ridden into the city with a panic that same night, roving around to find that blonde brute of yours, he had explained in the comforts of your new, big apartment. the third place he had looked was your home, and you had tried to hide the flush of your skin behind the cup of tea you sipped.

he had explained that Simon had gone home prematurely without a notice, too drunk to reason through with things. too drunk to be able to quell how much he missed you.

with a sinking feeling, you had come to acknowledge with a tinge of guilt just how much you had been neglecting him. not that it was your responsibility to take care of him in the first place. you weren’t married.

though, after everything, that didn’t seem to matter at all. you were completely his anyway.

with a wince, you couldn’t help but wonder, was he yours as well? could you even dare to wonder if your relationship was an equal give and take? if it was anything more than a silent power imbalance?

eyes darting from Soap to your open bedroom door, you eyed the large lump beneath the blankets of your bed. you hadn’t even done anything upon arrival at your home. you had pushed him toward the bedroom and he had sunk down into the mattress, exhausted from his long ride to san francisco, and promptly fell asleep, thoroughly soaking your sheets.

you had let him sleep, content to lay flush by his side and tangled in his wet embrace, till there was a pounding on your door. you had opened it to find Soap dripping with water and looking just as tired as the hulking man who slept in your bed.

and there you were on the living room sofas with Soap, sipping tea as he explained that they needed to go back and finish taking care of things in arizona and mexico. then they would be home bound again. it was a promise.

once the sun crested the sky along the horizon, you gently shook Simon awake, looking confused and sleepy in the morning light.

he had gone without much reluctance—much more sober than the night before. a composed stoicism overtook him again and he was curt in his goodbye. so curt it made your heart ache.

he could barely look at you, brushing his gloved fingers gently against your cheek in a brief reminder of his deep, lingering affection, before he disappeared with Soap out your apartment. the only remnant of him was your drenched sheets and the soft smell of smoky ash and woods against them.

this was how it had been for months. it gets worse before it gets better, Soap had said to you when things had grown tense between you and Simon. you were managing a business. he was managing the entire western frontier through the business you managed.

was marriage an option anymore?

your mind chanted a quiet reminder that it wouldn’t be long before one-four-one would be in san francisco permanently. Simon’s stoic presence would be more resolute and then maybe, maybe, you could do something about it.

there were nights when you caved when he was home, staying just across the hall from your apartment, knocking at his door and desperate for his touch on your skin. he would always relent, picking you up and throwing you onto his bed, crawling over you and setting your whole body alight with sensual touches and long, breathless kisses as he fucked you through several earth shattering orgasms that had your nails scratching down his back, hands twisting his hair, sometimes biting down on his shoulder to try and quell the overwhelming pleasure of it.

you’d roll in the sheets for hours, tangled together until the sun came up after a long, pleasurable and sweaty night. there were always bruises left along your skin, a darkened splotchy purple against your hips where his had slammed into you over and over, making you see stars.

there were nights when he’d do the same. you remembered opening the door to him—half-naked and his bare, muscled torso on display, a scarred, discolored twist of skin over the side of his chest and shoulder that matched the skin of your own arm. there was always a tinge of plea in his voice, of desperation, as he edged you into your own apartment and you always, always relented.

you remembered being down on your knees for him for the first time, throat swollen and tight as he eased his cock down your throat, a gentle hand in your hair.

“thas’ it,” he had praised, voice slurred as he guided you through the unusual motion. your head slid up and down his thick, hot length that pulsed in your mouth, sucking him with closed eyes.

“look at me,” he had commanded, thumb pressing against your cheek and you had fluttered your eyes up at him, head feeling light and airy from the lack of oxygen circulating in your system.

“fuck,” he choked out, head tipping back at the sight of you, so small and obedient between his thighs.

it was just like this every time—mind blowing and unforgettable. content in his strong arms after every night of intense passion, your cheek pressed to his warm chest and soft, lulling whispers into your ear as he stroked your hair till you fell asleep to his random bursts of rambles about work, one-four-one, and you. soft, loving words about you.

he was always the most talkative those nights. in the morning, he would always be gone, and in the light of day, you’d half ignore each other for fear of…

you didn’t know what you should be fearing but you feared something so strong that you buried yourself in work and allowed yourself to be selfish. trying desperately to forget everything and always failing much to Yue-Yi’s amusement.

damn special privileges, you had hired Yue-Yi as a personal assistant after the majority of brothels had been shut down with the crackdown of law across the west. managing so many of her own personal clients throughout her life, Yue-Yi proved to be adept at organizing your busy schedule and especially adept at keeping you company when one-four-one was gone. when Simon was gone.

she reminded you to take care of yourself when you were overworking. you always countered by saying that one-four-one was working twice as hard, though with the incredulous look she would send you every time, you grew to become unsure of yourself.

and here you were in the present, days since you had “talked” to Simon though his mind seemed to be barely present underneath a veil of intoxication. days since Soap had whisked him back to whatever duties that lay east of san francisco.

you tried to ignore it all, taking long strolls through the park during lunch to avoid the hustle bustle of your office during the busy hours. you preferred to work in silence, but that proved difficult with the growing number of employers that were corralled into your business, no matter how perturbed they thought an unmarried woman as their boss.

you heard their gossips and whispers. they thought you were hiding a secret marriage with the prophesied ceo from them. Simon Riley. little did they know, their ceo was actually you. you didn’t have the heart to tell them that they were wrong and allowed them to continue thinking you were some favored personal assistant of Simon—just a typist and nothing more.

you only let a few men—vaqueros who knew good english with proficient math and business skills—into your secret, pressing real business matters to carry out into their hands. they never questioned it, and whether it was a command from Alejandro or not, you thought of them as amiable acquaintances.

the fall leaves littered the path in the park on this day, your hands clasped behind your back as you observed the sun flecked surroundings. a husband and wife ambled through the grass as their children trailed behind, throwing up colorful leaves into the air with pitched laughter. immediately, you looked away from the sight.

that’s when you spotted a familiar man staring at you, splayed across a nearby bench in a fancy three-piece suit and ginger hair fiery in the sunlight.

you stopped in your tracks.

“Konig?” you choked, slowly edging toward him. he tipped his head to you with a smile that smothered something strange in his pale green eyes.

“pleasant to see you little lady.”

your mouth opened and closed and you would’ve sat by him if it weren’t for the thrumming, ominous instinct in you to stay away.

and you did just that, stopping a comfortable distance from the big man, his eyes never leaving you as he took a swing from a flask before tucking it back into the breast pocket of his suit.

“what are you doing here?” you asked, dismayed, wondering if you were hallucinating it out of your own loneliness.

he ruffled his hair, smile lopsided but eyes still flat and dead and cold. Konig had disappeared on the move into san francisco. he would reappear every one and a while, poking around in your business and checking on your well-being before disappearing all over again. it was frustrating and left you beyond confusion.

it left Simon seething because Konig would conveniently pop up in the midst of a random, bustling street, tell you with joy that he was staying just around the corner of your new apartment and make Simon sulk at the very sight of the austrian man.

“my employers in Austria,” he said with a tilted head, “they want me to stay in san francisco for business.”

your mind spun. business? assassin business?

your throat ran dry. “you won’t kill Simon, will you?”

the smile on his face was malicious.

“i already tried,” he said slowly, and you suppressed a shiver, remembering when Kate had told you that Konig had left Simon for dead in that fire but took you with him. saved your life.

“that british boy,” Konig said, brow furrowed like he was concentrating hard, “i do not like him, Engel.”

you sighed out, rubbing at your temple. “i know, Konig.”

when Konig only kept staring at you in silence, you decided to probe him with questions. “where have you been?”

you were surprised by the hurt in your voice. his brows only rose slightly. “san francisco—”

“what have you been doing?” you interjected, twisting your hands in your dress.

he stared at you for a long moment. “business.”

his voice dropped an octave. “and watching you.” then, he rephrased, “watching you and Ghost.”

you wrinkled your nose. not ominous at all.

“you care about him,” he observed lightly, looking away from you. a frown twitched at his lips and you sighed, gaining the courage to sit on the very opposite edge of the bench. though with his sheer size, he took up more than half of it, his arm splayed out over the back and his fingers pressed against your shoulder when you leaned back to look up at the clear, crisp sky.

“i do,” you confirmed, and he shifted beside you, picking up his hand to play with the ends of your hair.

“why? he’s an insufficient boy,” he grumbled and you couldn’t help the smile on your lips. you had never heard someone describe Simon as a boy, though sometimes, you couldn’t help but feel the same.

“i am an insufficient girl sometimes,” you countered, surprised when Konig shook his head.

“i have always seen you for what you are, Engel.” his pale green eyes flitted from your hair up to your eyes.

“capable.”

at that, you swallowed hard, but he continued on. “i want to stay in america. for you, little american.”

quickly, you countered, “you didn’t know me before, Konig.”

he shook his head again. “i don’t need to.”

there was a dizzying panic that rose in your chest.

“i’m not innocent,” you practically hissed, pinning him with your most intense gaze that he easily held. “i have mental issues. i don’t know who i am or what i want. i just want…”

your voice faltered. “Simon.”

then, you whispered so quietly that you almost couldn’t hear yourself, “i love him.”

the admittance of it was like a weight that slid off your shoulders, and you gasped a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

Konig had gone very stiff beside you, a pure look of something dark and angry twisting his face before it was swept away. he took his arm from you, letting your hair drop against your shoulders, sighing as he looked away.

“i don’t get it,” he grumbled.

you could only agree. “i don’t either.”

after a long moment of silence, Konig stood from the bench and whirled around on his heels, hands in his pockets and an easy smile on his face, though you could see the strain in his eyes.

“no matter. this will be the last time you see me, Engel.”

“i doubt that,” you said bitterly and his smile only grew.

“you are a business woman,” he said carefully, giving you a slight bow, “i am sure we will do business later in life.”

i’m counting on it, you thought, but didn’t voice as he turned on his heel and strode out the park with a confident step. your heart shrunk with every step he took. maybe you cared about him more than you realized.

you winced, trying to imagine how you would tell Simon about this strange encounter. then, you corrected yourself, reminding yourself that you actually didn’t need to tell him anything at all.

“excuse me!” a voice called from afar, and you turned to see Yue-Yi standing at the edge of the park, hands balled up by her side.

at the sight of her, a smile crept up to your face as she impatiently tapped at her wrist.

“you’re late for a meeting,” she hissed as you strode over. with a nasty look, she whirled around to trudge toward the office with a huff.

you looked back at Konig one last time, towering as he weaved around people who glanced at him with a wariness.

when he didn’t look back, you hurried to catch up with Yue-Yi, a strangled laugh escaping you when she quickened, throwing a mischievous look over her shoulder as you chased her up the steps to the office.

the meetings went smoothly. as usual. most of Turner’s men had been decimated or scattered, lost to the winds as they left western gang life for a mundane one. few changed sides to work for one-four-one. there wasn’t much threat to your livelihood now, especially now that there was a legal outlet for illegal activities. you implored one-four-one to set up a horse race betting system within each saloon—semi-discrete and something local law enforcers were a part of from time to time…

the rest of the day continued to go smoothly till it was late in the evening, nearing dinnertime, when you passed Yue-Yi typing at her desk. gathering the necessary papers she typed up, one paper by her typewriter caught your eye.

familiar, obnoxiously loud handwriting in all caps lined the top, addressed to YUE-YI from SIMON RILEY. you immediately picked it up, eyes darting over the paper, just reading the first few, formal sentences when Yue-Yi snatched it from your hand.

“didn’t anyone ever tell you it was rude to read someone else’s letters without permission?” she said with a scowl, wagging a finger at you.

you ignored her, reaching for the letter but she leaned back, crumpling it into a ball in her hand.

“Yue-Yi,” you whined, and she just rolled her eyes with a little smile.

“what is this about?” you probed, endlessly curious as to why Simon had written to Yue-Yi.

and not you, a slither of a whisper spoke in your mind. you grimaced. in all fairness, you never wrote to him either.

mulling by the edge of her desk, Yue-Yi sighed at the sight of you, lost and confused, as she resumed her work and lined up a fresh piece of paper at the typewriter.

“one-four-one is coming back tonight.”

you balked. “tonight?”

she shrugged. “Ghost addressed the information to me several days ago. the letter did not arrive till this morning. we will dine together at six o’clock.”

checking the clock on the opposite of the room, you bristled.

“it’s half past six, Yue-Yi,” you gritted out between a clenched jaw.

she stopped her incessant typing, giving you a brief glance full of impatience. “your meetings didn’t end till half past six.”

you groaned with frustration, stomping back into your office and moving past Simon’s vacant desk without even a glance at it—a bad habit that you had developed to somehow will him to return quicker.

not this quick, you lamented in your head, rifling through the wardrobe (for special occasions just like this) by your desk, undressing in your personal bathroom with quivering hands.

someone knocked on the door politely, a three beat rhythm you recognized as Yue-Yi, and with huff you tugged it open, not sparing her a glance out of your own frustration. she closed the door behind her softly, moving closer to undo the back of your dress for you.

you wasted no time to pin up your hair, eyes darting to hers through the mirror, flushing to find her gaze already pinned on you.

with a grumble, you complained under your breath, “how could you do this to me.”

she lightly smiled, helping you pull on the fine gown, exposing your neck and a glimmer of your collarbones.

“i knew you would’ve ran away if i told you weeks ago.”

grimacing, you chose not to say anything, remembering how you had done the same a couple months prior. but it was just once—Simon had written to you saying that he would be in town for the night, and you had written him back saying you were just too busy that night.

it was a lie.

oh how the tides had changed between the devil and his angel. it wasn’t out of your own revenge, but the gnawing fear wracking your bones and those simmering, painful questions running circles in your mind.

could Simon ever be yours?

it just wasn’t so simple anymore. maybe it never was.

Yue-Yi hummed softly as she pulled your corset tighter for good measure and buttoned up the back of your dress, smoothing it over before giving you a hug from behind.

“you look divine,” she said as you pulled silk gloves up your forearms.

“thank you,” you squeaked with a flush. she patted your sides before opening the door for you like a proper gentleman.

you curtsied for her and rolled her eyes, smacking your backside on your way out of the office as you squealed, and she laughed when you rubbed at your ass that stung beneath your gown.

moving through the townhouse, rooms of the place had been converted into work spaces, lined with desks of busy men with cigarettes between their lips that filled the room with a smoky haze. they paid you no mind as you followed Yue-Yi to the end of the hall, passing by the room of women typists who bid you kind goodbyes and waved as you descended down the spiral steps to the lobby.

there was already a horse and buggy stationed at the sidewalk with an impatient looking coachman, whose eyes darted between you and the watch in his breast pocket.

“do you women not know how to tell time?” he spat, and you gave him a narrowed side glance.

“it would do good on you to remember who your employer is, Mr. Busby.”

“that would be Mr. Riley, miss,” he shot back, opening the door for you nonetheless.

you ignored him but Yue-Yi didn’t.

“and you should remember that the miss is his lady,” she quipped, brow furrowed with a glare as she helped you up into the carriage.

that shut him up, grumbling something under his breath you couldn’t be bothered with as you slid into the leather carriage, Yue-Yi flush at your side as the coachman snapped the reins, horses taking off over the bumpy cobblestone road.

with a sigh, you said to her, “we ought to buy one of those fancy model t’s after today.”

she choked a laugh, clasping her hand with yours as you watched the passing scenery with a smile, though it didn’t last for long, melting from your face with every passing minute—every minute the distance between you and Simon closed.

the one-four-one mansion neared on the twinkling horizon, a good time’s travel from the inner boroughs of the sprawling city, far away enough from commotion where you could hear the soft drag and pulls of the ocean lapping at the shores. the mansion sat just near a cliff overlooking the pacific ocean.

the first night you had stayed for a formal event with important stockholders and other prominent figures involved in the family business, you had laid stock still in the ginormous bed, buried beneath blankets and thick, expensive furs, listening to the lulling roar of the ocean crashing against the cliff rocks through the open windows. a breeze danced through the room, brushing against your cheek so real and strong it felt like skin against your own.

blinking open your eyes, you saw Simon by the edge of the bed, his hand brushing over your cheek and hair in a mess like he had just awoken. without a word, he clambered into your bed, snaking beneath the blankets and pressed to you, bare skin hot to the touch and soaked through with sweat.

some words of concern had left you, some words you had forgotten now as you sat in the carriage, some words he had smothered with a sweet kiss. a kiss that you returned as you pushed him onto his back, shimmying out of your nightgown and undergarments with a practiced ease before straddling him, rolling your hips against him to pull gentle groans from his throat.

you leaned down to pepper kisses over his skin, sucking along his neck and his sharp jaw. then, with an earth shattering reminder of just how strong he is, he tugged your hips up his body till you hovered above his watering mouth, hot breath against your swollen cunt.

with a squeak of confusion, you had gripped at the fluffy pillows above his head, meeting his dark gaze as he pulled your pussy flush to his lips, guiding your hips over his face as he devoured your cunt, suckling your clit into his mouth till you were a shaking, crying mess.

it was strange and felt too dirty but your neediness betrayed you, just wanting more and more of him. even when he flipped you over, pliant and weak from a strong orgasm, and stretched your tight cunt open with his thick cock and low comforting words.

good girl. my sweet little angel, my sweet little slut. just f’me, all f’me.

you weren’t sure why it always ended up like this exactly—somehow tangled in each other’s bed and desperate for skin against skin, tongue and lips on each other, and his low throaty whispers in your ear that sent you reeling over the edge every time with breathy, pitched whines and his fingers rubbing addictive little circles into your clit.

shivering at the memory with a hot flush of embarrassment, you pressed your thighs together, taking your embroidered fan and flapping it at your face as the coachman drew the carriage up the drive-way to the mansion, the butler and servants lined along the extravagant entrance of the victorian mansion.

just beyond them, one-four-one filed out the doors of the mansion, Soap striding up to the carriage with a loud greeting. the coachman opened the door for you but Soap waved him away, outstretched his hand to you with a rugged smile.

you took it, holding the hem of your dress up as you stepped to the ground.

“yer a sight for sore een, bonnie,” he said with a big grin and you choked a laugh.

“sore what?” you asked as he kissed your hand brusquely, not elaborating as he moved to help Yue-Yi out the carriage as well.

you walked up the steps of the entrance, John and Kate calling out to you in greeting. your eyes darted over Gaz and Simon, looking like a pair of twin statues with the way their arms were crossed over their chests and a stoic look pinched their face.

you bit back a scoff, letting Kate pull you into a soft hug as John looked down at you with an affectionate smile, hands clasped behind his back. turning to Gaz, he gave you a curt nod which you returned.

eyes sliding to Simon’s, his arms dropped to his sides, hands clenching and unclenching, lips parting like he was going to say something, but Yue-Yi materialized at your back in an instant, and his mouth closed, jaw clenched.

“Yue-Yi,” he greeted with a nod. she just tilted her head in response, a menacing scowl twisting her lips.

the look they shared passed something between them that you couldn’t decipher—like a silent argument ensued in the air between them before he let out a low huff, sending you a lingering look, before he followed one-four-one into the mansion.

promptly, you turned to Yue-Yi.

“what was that?” you probed, and she completely ignored you, pushing you into the mansion with an impatient, hushed reminder that you were late.

you bit back your frustration, letting yourself be led by the butler to the banquet table stacked with half-eaten food and empty bottles of whiskey and wine, the vaqueros loud laughter and chatter filling the cavernous dining room. they all stood at your presence, which you protested with a startled squeak, sitting down in an plush chair near the head of the table where John sat, and right beside Simon.

Simon pushed in your chair with an ease, face blank as he plopped in the seat next to you, lacking manners when he leaned an elbow on the table, a tense silence filling the space between you.

desperately, you ignored it, grateful that Yue-Yi flanked your other side, and looked down to the other end where Alejandro, Rudolfo, Kate, and Maria sat, a raucous laughter and chatter ensued. it filled the whole room with an expanding joy that you rode—joining in on a few conversations across the table, hyper aware of the quiet, hulking man beside you sharing low murmurs with John and Gaz.

his hand crept over to the arm of your seat, long fingers hanging off the edge where he rested his forearm, fingertips barely brushing over your thigh. you shot him a look from your peripheral, but he was still braced against his other forearm, leaning over to speak in John’s ear, his face furrowed as he nodded along to Simon’s words.

across the table, Soap piled your plate with food, one hand spooning out generous portions from different platters and the other tipping back a glass of whiskey into his mouth.

with a sheepish laugh, you thanked him, happy to finally have a meal after such a long, exhausting day.

you took a big spoonful of mashed potatoes, chewing happily when a vaquero across the table pointed out you got some on the corner of your lips with a mix of sign language and a couple words in english. embarrassed you swiped at it, but he just laughed, saying something in spanish as he smiled at you.

then, you recognized him—his twinkling brown eyes and gentle smile, tanned skin, dark slick backed hair that parted and curled around his ears. handsome in a soft, pretty way.

“it’s you!” you exclaimed, happy to see a familiar face.

he nodded, pointing to himself. “i am Javier.”

“your name is Javier?”

he nodded again, then pointed at you. “you are Angel.”

with a blush, you shifted in your seat, changing the subject quickly. “how are you?”

when he looked confused, you tried to rephrase, “how are you feeling? good? bad?”

his let out an ah, eyes twinkling as he leaned forward in his seat. “good.”

then, he tilted his head. “escuche que eres la chica de Ghost. pero ya no lo parece.”

he was looking you up and down. “te ves tan bonita esta noche, Angel.”

his words were hushed, just loud enough so that only you could hear. there was a different, more intimate tone in them that had the heat in your cheeks just thickening.

“what?” you choked and his smile only widened.

you looked to Yue-Yi beside you, locked in conversation with someone on her other side, growing uncomfortable under the vaquero’s curious, lingering gaze.

you had thought that no one had heard when a strong arm had curled around your waist, dragging your entire chair across the floor with a screech so you were flush to his side.

“¿todavia parece que no es mia cabron?” Simon’s words were a low snarl that carried through the room and cut through the end of the other table. immediately, the room quieted, and Alejandro’s eyes darted up from his conversation, the smile melting off his face.

with a deadly amount of leisure, Simon threw his revolver on the table, eyes a glare full of challenge at Javier. you stared at the hard lines of his face and panicked, knowing he’d hold to whatever word he had just delivered if it was something as trivial as his male ego being threatened. especially if he thought you were being threatened.

when Javier reached for his own revolver beneath the table, you threw up a hand, standing to shield Simon.

“wait—!”

but Alejandro beat you to it. “Javier.”

Javier looked down the table at his leader that stood, hunched over and knuckles pressed against the table. Alejandro shook his head lightly, and Kate heaved a sigh, her cutlery clattering against her plate as she put them down.

“here they go again,” she grumbled distantly, blue eyes flashing when they met yours.

after a long pause, Javier finally leaned back into his chair with a huff, then turned his gaze to you once more.

“debo haberme equivocado. lo siento Angel.”

the smile on his face was deceptively soft, eyes never leaving your wide ones as he spoke, and Simon’s grip only tightened on your waist.

“Javier,” Alejandro repeated, sounding impatient, though Javier’s gaze on you was unflinching.

for a long, terrible, twisted moment, you watched Simon’s hand twitch by his revolver before it curled into a fist, and he sat back against his chair with a thud and a low grunt. finally, Javier looked away, and you sunk back into your chair, gasping a breath you didn't know you were holding.

at that, Alejandro straightened and held a bottle of whiskey up into the air with a smile.

“no need to fight my brothers and sisters. we’re here to celebrate our victory, vaqueros and vaqueras!”

at that, the table cheered and resumed its festivities, retopping their drinks with a tipsy hand so that their drinks fizzed over with liquid that soaked into the tablecloth. then, Alejandro gestured his bottle to you, meeting your eyes, mouthing out the words so that only you and Simon could see.

“to the devil and his angel.”

he took a big swing of the whiskey bottle, and the muddled feeling in you only sunk, jolting when Simon pressed his lips to your ear.

“sit in my lap,” he commanded and you shot him a glare.

“you haven’t talked to me all night,” you hissed under your breath and he narrowed his eyes at you.

“you haven’t either,” he countered, which you thought was rather immature as you looked up at him with a pinched expression.

with a little yelp, you jolted when his hand lazily slid around your throat. “and i wasn’t asking, princess.”

swallowing hard, you let him pick you up and drop you in his lap, curling both arms around you in a vice, chin tucked over your shoulder. you told yourself, chanted to yourself, that you were doing it to prevent any further bloodshed already spilled between the men and women of the room, your eyes darting over Kate and Maria flush together at the end of the table.

you clutched at Simon’s strong arms, leaning back into his massive body, turning your cheek so that your forehead was against his jaw, closing your eyes.

“sleepy?” he offered, voice gruff in your ear. gently, he kissed the lobe of your ear, and a resolute ache wracked your chest.

you realized, in his arms, this was the first time in multiple days since he had held you. you reached back to clutch at his neck, sinking into him.

“mhmm,” you hummed, grateful that Gaz and John ignored the pair of you in their own conversation.

then, he kissed your neck softly. “i can take you to bed.”

the suggestiveness of his words don’t go unnoticed. “now?”

“no one will say anythin’,” he promised, already pushing you off his lap softly. even if half the table watched you disappear through the rooms of the mansion with Simon’s arm wrapped around your waist, you found yourself completely uncaring, just nuzzling closer into him.

once you were both completely out of sight, he hooked an arm under your knees and carried you up the stairs and into a random room shrouded with darkness, the blankets and furs soft against your back when he laid you out over a bed.

you watched him undress in silence, undoing his vest and then his button up before you heard the clink of a belt in the dark and his dress pants dropped to the floor. he crawled over to you, completely bare for your greedy eyes.

“let me?” he asked softly, finger hooking in the low collar of your evening gown, and you nodded, letting him sit you up and unbutton the back of your dress. you tugged it over your head, uncaring that it crumpled the fabric, and flipped your hair over your shoulder, turning so you offered your back to him.

when he made no move to your corset, you sent him a confused look over your shoulder, lips parting at the sight of him breathing shallow, and swollen, veiny cock pressed against his thigh.

he edged forward with a low curse, kissing your shoulder as he untied your corset expertly, too expertly now, with a clumsy rush, your breasts bouncing when he practically ripped the thing from your torso.

a gasp escaped you when he bound an arm around your chest, kneading at your breast while his other hand tugged at the hem of your drawers. you lifted your hips, awkwardly shimmying out of them in his tight hold. he tore it the rest of the way down, and you chided him with disapproval that he ignored, arms squeezing you tight to his muscled, warm chest.

you could feel his feverish cock pressed into the curve of your ass, and you reached down blindly to stroke him but he grumbled out something like a no, burying his face into your hair and neck as he just held you there in that awkward position.

you clutched at his arms, feeling the muscled strength of them tense beneath your touch. “Simon?”

he hummed distantly, pressing pleasant kisses to your skin.

“i need to show you something,” he said, untangling himself from your body for a brief moment to step away and search for something on the floor. he took something from the pocket of his discarded pants, silvery and shiny in the dim light as he crawled back onto the bed and pulled you flush to him once more.

he looped both arms in front of your chest, the silver thing dangling in the air in front of your face.

you gasped at the sight of the pink jewel embedded in an ornate silver casing—dazzling even in the low light. it wasn’t unlike Simon to bring you back trinkets and small mementos from his travels, though they were always discrete, left on your nightstand after an intimate night, or the kitchen table in your apartment.

this was the first time he had directly presented you with something so romantic.

with a content hum at your reaction, he clasped it around your neck, pulling your hair out from under the silver chain, pressing his lips along the necklace against your skin. the contrast between its cold metal and his hot kisses left you shivering.

“what is it?” you asked in wonder, clutching at the jewel against your chest.

“pink tourmaline,” he slurred against your skin. you met his half-lidded gaze from over your shoulder.

“s’my birthstone,” he said, voice deceptively soft as he reached around to toy with it in your fingers. a heat slithered down to your core, and you had to clench your thighs together to stave off the aching pressure of it.

the act was so possessive it left you hot with delirium.

physically branding you as his, a happy voice sung in your somewhere, though the logic of your mind swatted at it, reminding you this wasn’t how you wanted it.

you bit down on your lip, feeling conflicted as you stared down at the jewel in his fingertips.

when you didn’t respond to him, Simon gently pressed you onto your back, sliding over your body to study your face with a blank expression.

“what’s wrong, lovely? you don’t like it?”

you shook your head, reaching up to cup his cheek. “no. i like it. it’s just…”

he tilted his head, eyes flitting down to your exposed, swollen breast from his kneading, then up again.

“fuck me,” you offered, and his face pinched, pulling back from your touch so he sat back on his haunches.

“what’re you not tellin’ me, lovely?” he asked, angling your chin down so you were looking right into his dark eyes.

you swallowed hard. “Konig came and talked to me.”

he stiffened, grip on your chin tightening as he frowned. “he didn’t touch you, did he?”

“no,” you said, clutching at his wrist, “he told me that he wanted to stay in the city for me.”

with as much honesty as you could muster, you told him, “i realized that i care about him more than i believed.”

his hand dropped from your face, jaw clenched as a new void look swept through his expression, which left you icy inside and out.

“you want to tell me that you love him?” there was such a strain in his voice that it didn’t sound like his own.

“no,” you said immediately, and the tight bunch of his shoulders dropped. “i want...”

that voice in your head screamed and you tried to bury it but it came out wracking and loud. you screwed your eyes shut.

you Simon, it screamed. i want you. you wanted him so bad it was soul-crushing. you wanted him so bad you’d rather deny yourself of the need, ignore him endlessly, if it meant that he wouldn’t… reject you.

those same, sharp questions pierced finally broke the barricade of your mind. could you ever hope for Simon to be yours? would he ever think you an equal? was it more than the power balance you felt it to be?

you looked into his stoic face.

“i want to start over.”

he tilted his head, voice rough. “start over.”

you nodded. “i’m a business woman. i’m a murderer. i’ve done awful things. i’m not innocent anymore.”

you held your breath, hoping with all your might he would believe your words. you were so, so, so very afraid that he cared for a girl that you weren’t anymore.

you are a woman now, Yue-Yi had said to you with wonder after your reunion in san francisco, marveled that you had survived the harrowing gang war.

he edged closer to you, creeping over you so his body bowed down to your own. his hands slid up to your cheeks, holding your face as he brushed his thumb over your cheek. his dark eyes flitted between yours.

you pressed on. “let’s do everything over. no more secrets. retell me ones i’ve already learned.”

when he was silent, you reached up to gently hold his face in your palms in return.

“the one i love is you,” you admitted, amazed at how the weight slid right from your shoulders into some intangible pit below, just how it had been that noon with Konig.

you searched his eyes, finding nothing changed in them after your words. just Simon’s brown eyes. still just Simon. the clarity in that realization was like finally finding a foothold after months of free fall.

“you’ve changed Angel,” he said, quietly, like he was in awe.

your breath hitched. “is that bad?”

“‘course not. is this what you’ve been worrying your pretty little head about for months?”

you frowned. “yes.”

his whole body relaxed, easing down to trap you beneath his muscled body. “i thought you were rethinkin’ about marrying me.”

you winced, because in all technicality you were, but not because you were doubting him. you were doubting all of the unreliable circumstances that danced around the two of you.

he said softer, “i thought you didn’t want me anymore.”

“i want you more than anything,” you squeaked and he cocked his head.

only you could decipher it as the silent question that it was. then why’d you do all that to me?

your breath hitched, the guilt of neglecting him like a crashing, icy wave splashing over you. or, rather, you had neglected yourself.

“i can’t explain it,” you choked and he rubbed a hand over your chest.

“take your time Angel.”

shimmering tears glossed your eyes, and you said quicker than you thought, “i wanna be equals.”

the slow, soothing circles he drew against your chest stopped. “equals?”

“i wanna be more than this,” you said, clutching at the jewel on your chest, hoping with every fiber of your being that he understood.

more than the once innocent and naive girl he kidnapped.

but he was just silent for a long moment, eyes darting between your face and the little jewel, and you made a strangled noise of frustration.

“i want you to be mine, too,” you admitted, so embarrassed by the proposition that you couldn’t look at him.

when his silence just continued, your eyes darted over to meet his, face void of anything perceptible before he suddenly smothered a laugh, pressing a fist to his lips and twisting away so you couldn’t see his face.

“what—”

you scrambled up to see him keeled over by the edge of the bed, his shoulders shaking with laughter.

“Simon!” you shouted, kicking at his shoulder to get him to quit it, but that only goaded him on.

with a sniffle, you wiped at the tears in your eyes and scrambled from the bed, standing up to stomp out of the room. even if you were naked and all, you didn’t care.

“don’t even try to run away,” he growled between laughter, winding an arm around your waist and pulling you back so you fell back against his chest with a yelp, fighting him as he wrestled you back down to the bed.

when your cheek was pressed against the mattress, back arched and ass pressed to his hips, you slumped with defeat and he let out a low, approving hum, laughter finally subsiding as he bent over you to nose at the crown of your head.

once he settled above you, he hummed again, an iron grip around both of your forearms that were pressed to the bed. he kneed your thighs apart, cunt spread and presented to him in the most indecent way possible.

you shuddered, a burning heat in your tummy.

“silly girl,” he murmured, hips sliding forward to press his leaking cock into the softness of your inner thigh.

you gasped, squirming around in his grip, trapped beneath him.

“my cock was made for this pretty pussy,” he rasped, low enough that it sent goosebumps across your skin, a little whimper torn from your lips.

“made for you,” he emphasized, picking up a hand that pinned down your forearm.

you looked down between your quivering legs, watching him wrap a large hand around his length and pump his cock a couple times before lining up with your entrance.

“already?” you whined, shaking at the feeling of his drooling tip pushing through your gooey folds.

“you can take it can’t you?” he cooed softly, leaning down to press a messy kiss to your cheek.

of course you could, you wanted to say, but the memory of how the stretch of your cunt around his big cock burned even when he prepared you made you tremble.

but that didn’t stop you from wiggling your hips back into him, wanting him to just slide in already, the wetness of your cunt hot and unbearable. you couldn’t keep from whimpering against the sheets for him.

at your meek display of submission, he whispered in a low, throaty tone, “good girl.”

slowly, he pressed his cock into your unstretched cunt, smothering your cries against the blankets. you screwed your eyes shut, tears slipping down your cheeks as you half-sobbed.

Simon smoothed a hand down your spine, his other hand going between your thighs to circle at your aching clit as he plunged further in.

“hurts,” you whined and he hummed, kissing your shoulder blade.

“want me to stop?” he offered softly, but you immediately shook your head, wanting to please him.

always wanting to please him.

“you’re perfect,” he purred against your skin, bullying the last thick inches of his base into your pussy till he was flush against your ass.

lingering there for a moment, letting the sharp burn subside as you sniffled against the sheets and he peppered kisses all down your neck and back, fingers still massaging your swollen clit.

“needed this so bad,” he admitted, hot breath against your back making your shiver, “needed this pretty little, tight cunt so bad.”

the first snap of his hips punched the breath from your lungs, the rest leaving you gasping, breathless, and mind dizzy as he fucked you. rough. rougher than you felt in a long time.

punishing, you thought dreamily as his hand reached around your throat and squeezed periodically to keep you from passing out.

his hips slammed against your ass, growling out low grunts that coupled with your breathy hiccups in the quiet of the room. it had you delirious and out of your mind, thick tears rolling down your cheeks and pooling at the mattress below.

when he stopped abruptly, hips flush to the back of your thighs that stung from repetitive impact, he manhandled you onto your back, twisting you on his cock as he draped your legs over your shoulders, bending you in half and ignoring your little whimpers as he continued to fuck you relentlessly.

when his hand snaked up to your throat again, you thought he’d give you those delicious little squeezes that had your cunt throbbing and aching, but he wrapped his fingers around your necklace instead, pressing the jewel of it into your throat.

his head was tilted, eyes predatory and clouded beyond recognition.

“pretty,” he snarled, fingers digging into your cheek to keep you still as he pressed more messy kisses to your face as you whimpered.

not punishing, you realized, choking out a sob when he slammed deep into that sweet spot in you, possessive.

so possessive that it made your head spin, clit twitching for his attention, your hips bucking up into his rough movements as you whined for his touch desperately.

“touch yourself,” he commanded roughly, and you sobbed out a thank you, running a hand down your stomach to rub at it—but it just wasn’t as good as the rough pads of his fingers that knew exactly how you liked it.

whining again, he chided you with a tsk, leaning down to shut you up with a hot, wet kiss, tongue invading your mouth as he pushed your hand aside. he pressed his thumb against your needy clit, fingers splayed across your stomach as he abused the pebbled bud to perfection.

“oh, Simon,” you gasped into his full lips, watching the silvery scar of his upper lip stretch when he smiled, malicious and pupils blown wide.

“hm? tha’ good, baby?”

“yeah,” you choked out, more tears running down your face when you screwed your eyes shut. he kissed them away with a softness that made you melt, curling into his touch, taking and loving every one of his rough thrusts that drove you a little further up the bed.

so far that he held up a hand against it, broad and big body towering over your small, shaking one, dwarfed by him in the darkness.

he groaned, little strings of praise leaving his lips. “so perfect takin’ me, Angel. so small and tight and takin’ it all.”

you nodded, gasping for breath as your fingers twisted in the sheets, overwhelmed

“this cock yours? hm?” he goaded, and you just kept nodding through your hiccuped gasps, hands running up his strong arms to sink your nails into his shoulders, tugging him down to you with a whine.

he relented, dropping down to squish you beneath his heavy weight, your thighs almost pressed to your ears as he fucked his thick cock into you, your eyes rolling back when you felt it throb inside you.

“tell me m’yours,” he growled in your ear, and you moaned, snaking a hand into his hair to pull at its roots and quell the crashing pleasure wracking your body with little overstimulated shakes.

“you’re mine,” you squeaked back, and he chuckled low in your ear, talking you through an orgasm with throaty murmurs.

good girl. come for me now. wanna watch your pretty face while you come. thaaas’ it, pretty thing, come f’me, come f’me—

and you did, every one of his words spurring you closer to the edge, thrown over it when he snuck a hand around your throat and squeezed, the cold metal of your necklace digging into your skin.

it was too much, and you came so hard you saw white, throaty groans in your ear as you came down from the high, Simon’s thrusts slower and more affectionate.

“did so well f’me,” he cooed, and you nodded weakly, still clutching at his hair as your body continued to shake.

“think you can do it again?” he asked softly and you immediately shook your head.

“no,” you sniffled, but he pressed his lips against your hair, a telling smile twisted them and you whimpered, knowing exactly what that meant.

you gasped when he suddenly pulled out of you, feeling light and airy and cold from the weightless absence of him. dizzy, you picked up your head, blinking your eyes against the darkness, pacified when he leaned down and enveloped your lips with his warm ones, movements slow and soft when he flipped you to straddle his hips.

you leaned against his chest, feeling just as woozy and dizzy as he angled your hips, dripping length pushing through your folds and catching against your sensitive clit.

“i think you can, lovely,” he said, thumb rubbing soothing circles into your hip. “can you try? f’me?”

you sniffled, sending him a pout that just made the smug look on his face stretch.

“want you to use me,” he rasped, eyes darting down to where his cock was nestled between the wet folds of your entrance—sopping with your orgasm and the pearly white liquid that rolled from the tip of his cock.

you whined, grinding down on him, feeling that needy thrum between your thighs again, and he hummed approvingly, guiding his cock back into the waiting clutch of your heat.

the position was unusual to you—so exposed in the cold air of the room, begetting you a whole new berth of control that you were unsure what to do with when you sunk down on him, watching his blonde lashes flutter as his eyelids drooped, sighing out a heavy breath.

once you were settled flush to his hips, you gasped, head tilted back and eyes wide at how deep the head of him nudged against that gummy crook of your inside that ached and keened for stimulation.

“Simon,” you gasped, unsure what to do.

he placed two hands on your hips, dragging your hips up so just the tip of him was at your entrance, before spearing you back down.

you gasped when the head of his cock pressed right against that sweet spot again, and you clutching at his big hands on your hips, picking your hips up before dropping back down onto him, the new pleasure blooming through your body.

“tha’ it,” he grunted, lolling his head back into the pillows, watching your work his length with little breathy moans and gasps, “use this cock. s’all yours.”

you whined at that, whimpering a little, “mine” as you peered down at him through half-lidded eyes.

“mhmm,” he affirmed, using his thumb to play with your aching clit, “m’all yours, princess.”

a moan escaped your lips as you tipped your head back, riding him slow and sensual to your own pleasure, letting it overwhelm you with loud keens of pleasure, head spinning at the thick, pulsing cock between your legs.

all yours, your mind chanted, reaching up to pinch at your own sensitive nipples and whimpering at the sensation that mixed into all the others, watching Simon groan beneath you.

“such a dirty, corrupted little thing,” he grunted, thrusting up in time with your movements so he slammed a little deeper in you every time.

“gonna let me make you my pretty little wife, princess?” he asked, voice so soft as he cupped your cheek.

you nodded incessantly, babbling incoherent words and little pleas as you leaned forward on his chest, another orgasm rushing closer and closer to you.

“gonna come?”

you nodded again, pitched little whimpers the only sound you could push from your lips as he snapped his hips up, taking over the weak, shallow movement of your hips, thighs burning from the effort.

your whole body turned to jello, muscles going lax as you collapsed over him, core convulsing with sweet, delicious pulses that blissed you out, a roar of static in your ears as you screwed your eyes shut with a broken sob.

you hadn’t even realized your cheek was pressed to Simon’s chest till you were coming down from the intensity of it, mind still buzzing with overstimulation, as you just listened to his lulling breaths against your hair and the slow swells of his chest.

he brushed his fingers up your back. “alright, lovely?”

you nodded with a contented hum against his bare chest, tracing the mottled scars of his body softly.

you only noticed his throbbing, hard length still flush to that sweet spot in you when he bucked his hips up, and a surprised moan left your lips.

“can i?” he asked, lifting your hips softly to slide his cock out the tight clutch of your cunt.

you weren’t sure of what he was asking for till he perched your leg up, wrapping a hand around himself and stroking, tip pressed right up against the rim of your entrance.

you moaned at the sight, craning your head back to look at the quick swipe of his hand twisting around his cock, hips bucking up in an irregular pattern that made you dizzy.

he twitched beneath you every time slapped the head of his cock against your clit, making you mewl out with sensitivity, turning your head back to him, finding his dark, clouded eyes already on you.

he picked his head up in a silent offering that you took, kissing him with a delirious need, needing him to do something, needed him to come.

“need it,” you whimpered, grinding your hips down against the head of his cock, and his hips bucked with a low groan against your tongue.

“fuck,” he grunted, forehead pressed to yours, “you don’t even know what you’re asking for.”

that only left you confused, brow furrowed as you traced your fingers over his neck and collarbones, scratching lightly over the skin just to hear his breath go shallow.

“need you to come in me,” you begged, whining at the very thought of his hot, milky spend spilling into your cunt, not knowing why you needed it, just that you did.

he groaned loud, hips bucking up into his hands a few more times till he held the head of his cock right against your entrance and came all over your pussy lips, splashing them with a hot, goopy liquid as you whimpered, grinding down on the feeling.

you were half tempted to sheath himself back into your cunt, but his fingers already beat you to it, slithering down your stomach to curl up into your entrance. you gasped as he pushed the spend in you, hot and slimy and just as you had imagined as you ground down on his fingertips.

“this what you needed?” he asked, voice hazy and distant. you blinked up at him, his head lolled against the pillows with a lazy smirk.

shifting up you pecked his lips, humming as he fucked his fingers into you, spreading his spend within you. he pecked your nose in return.

“good.”

then, his fingers were sliding out your cunt, leaving you empty and cold after the accumulated sweat on your body had dried. but his arms were warm as he wrapped you in his embrace, turning you over to crush you beneath him again, just where you belonged.

stretching out beneath him, you winced at the sting between your thighs.

“sore?” he asked, reaching down to cup your cunt, and you swatted at his hand with a flush.

“s’your fault,” you said with a pout.

he just thumbed at your lower lip that jutted out, and you playfully bit down on it, satisfied when you saw a little smile on his lips.

“i promise i’ll stretch you nice and good beforehand next time. with a couple orgasms too,” he purred in your ear, and you only flushed deeper, hiding it under an indignant nod and a little hmph.

“but that won’t be happenin' for a while, pretty,” he said, rolling off you to sit at the edge of the bed.

when you sent him a quizzical look, beseeching him to come back and keep you warm, he just shook his head.

“s’improper while courting.”

you stiffened against the sheets, dropping your hand back down to your side. then, your eyes narrowed. “since when do you care about that kind of bullshit?”

he just bellowed a laugh, standing, tall and broad and stretching his compressed muscles in the open air. your eyes dropped beneath his hips, taking in the hair along his naval and his softening cock with a greediness.

tipping your knees open suggestively, you bared your intimates to him, and his eyes honed in on the messy mix of wetness caking your lower body.

“don’t do that,” he said, low and threatening as his eyes darted back up to your own, tongue sliding along his lower lip.

you couldn’t help but swallow at the sight of him, splaying yourself suggestively over the bed to entice him back. he just turned on his heel with a scoff, muttering something like insatiable beneath his breath before he walked off somewhere into the spacious room.

with the whiz of a match, you saw a space on the opposite of the bedroom bloom with light as he lit candles inside the bathroom.

in the meantime, you burrowed beneath the blankets and soft furs, humming with content at the warmth, brow furrowing when you felt them being pulled off your. with closed eyes, you felt Simon lift your leg, gently wiping your thighs and the sensitive place between them with a warm cloth, making you jolt at the sensation.

he pressed an apologetic kiss to your shoulder before the blankets were on you again and there was the sound of rustling, footsteps in the distance, the rush of water, footsteps nearing you, and more rustles when Simon slid into the bed behind you.

you turned onto your back to blink your eyes lazily at him, seeing him propped up on his side against the pillows and looking down at you. you smiled, tracing along his jaw and the silvery scar on his upper lip before he stooped down to kiss you with an intensity, tongue softly brushing against yours, before he pulled away again.

“do that again,” you commanded and with a huff he complied, kissing you so hard it made you dizzy.

“better?” he asked with a relaxed look on his face, reaching around you to play with your necklace.

“mhmm.”

you clutched at his wrist. “this my first courting gift?”

he let it drop against your skin, snaking two arms around you to pull you flush to his chest. it was warm and inviting. exactly where you belonged. exactly where Simon belonged.

“naturally.”

you smothered a smile, slithering your hand over his bound around your waist, intertwining your fingers together. he nuzzled against you with a hum, yawning right by your ear like a big cat.

“it was my last effort at failing to court you for months,” he admitted softly, breathing in the scent of your hair and skin shamelessly. you swatted at him, giggling at his ticklish breaths on your skin.

“leaving things around my apartment was courting?” you asked with a snort, and he grunted against your neck.

“i don’t know how it works,” he grumbled, and you drew lazy patterns across the veins of his muscled forearm.

“i could’ve taught you,” you sighed, remembering how your mama had described your daddy’s courting process.

Simon’s prolonged silence goaded you, and you began, “supposed to have a chaperone. first, you talk to her parents, gain their approval to pursue her, then—”

“i know all that,” he interjected, sounding sheepish. it was the first time you heard him so flustered, but you decided not to push him when you could feel him frown against your hair.

squirming around in his arms, he loosened his hold enough so that you could turn, taking in the strained look on his face. you pecked the corners of his scowl, willing it away, but it didn’t relent.

“then,” you said, brushing his brow with your fingers, “you fix a date to court her in front of her family.”

his scowl just deepened and you huffed a laugh.

“court me in front of Yue-Yi,” you offered, letting your head sink into the pillows, a droop pulling on your eyelids.

“i don’t want to,” he countered and you rolled your eyes.

“she’s the only family i’ve got besides one-four-one,” you said, stifling a yawn, “unless you wanna court me in front of John.”

he nodded slowly, like he was being thoughtful. “that could work.”

you scoffed, letting your eyes slide shut. “unbelievable.”

his fingers traced along your bare spine. “i’ve gotta tell you somethin’, lovely.”

“hm?” you prompted, tilting your head into the pillow like you were listening.

“i did ask your parents for permission.”

you stilled in his arms, breaths growing shallow, waiting for him to explain. when he didn’t, you pressed him.

“and?”

when his silence was only prolonged, you blinked your eyes open, lazily looking up at the serious look pinching his face.

“your mother was shot by one of Turner’s men in the street. it was a mess. don’t know how she got there, or where your father was. just hauled her down an alley and tried to save her.”

your heart swelled so big that it cinched your esophagus, and you found it hard to breathe around the beating appendage in your throat.

“in her dyin’ moments, she asked me if i had done somethin’ to you.” he screwed his eyes shut, a pained look crossing his face.

“i told her that i had, but that i cared about you more than anythin’. i promised i’d marry you and be a good, faithful husband.”

gripping his jaw lightly, you shimmied up in his arms to press a kiss to his lips that he didn’t return, dark eyes flitting over your face.

“i think she wanted to kill me,” he admitted softly, and you just gave him a wry smile.

“sounds like my mama,” you said, trying to ease the pained look on his face, heart sinking when his scowl only strengthened.

“i tried to save her,” he said, voice gruff and brows pinched together, “i promise.”

you nodded, brushing your hands over his face, willing all of his pain away. “i believe you.”

he closed his eyes with a frustrated huff. “m’terrible at courting.”

you would’ve laughed if it weren’t for the dark roil of deep disapproval coming off him in waves.

“we didn’t exactly have a practical start,” you reminded him, thinking back to months ago. when it was the heat of a dusty summer and he was waltzed into your daddy’s saloon like he owned it, snatching your heart just at the first sight of his brown eyes behind the bloody layer of his glittering mask.

you could barely remember how it looked after it so long. you took in the handsome planes of his face just to remind yourself that you could.

“you deserve more,” he grumbled, still not looking at you. instead, you kissed his eyelids softly.

“stop it,” you chided, patting his cheek hard enough to make his eyes snap open.

“i only want you,” you said, enjoying the way his expression went sweet and gooey at your words, a sleepy smile on his lips, “there is no more or less.”

“this is it,” he said, voice soft as he pressed your foreheads together.

“this is it,” you sighed, curling your arms around his neck, letting your eyes close once more.

goosebumps rose where his fingers danced across your skin, picking up the ends of your hair against your collarbone and playing with it gently.

“marry me,” he offered, hooking a finger beneath the silver chain of your new necklace, rattling when he tugged on it.

“i do,” you sighed, letting him kiss you softly before his warm touch was pulling you down into a heavy slumber.

translations: — te ves tan bonita esta noche, Angel = you look so pretty tonight, angel — escuche que eres la chica de Ghost. pero ya no lo parece = i heard you're Ghost's girl. but it doesn't seem that way anymore —¿todavia parece que no es mia cabron? = does she still look like she’s not mine, bastard?

anyway! next up.... wedding scene 🌚 unless.... jkjk unless............. 👁️👁️ jk (unless...)

taglist: @poohkie90 @kunikku @tomiesdiet @silverianni @doublesuicidewithme @cliosunshine @one17 @mr-sol @warenai @saturnknows @migueloharaapologist2 @keiva1000 @kenma-izhu @lilvampirina @deltottoro @maki-z @leeeenistop @danika1994 @stillinracooncity @saevitiaa @itsalwaysbetternottoknow @karagd13-blog @nattywatty @oyaoyaoyaoyaoyaoyaoyaoya @havoc973 @mentallynot-here @aqua7ofana @ccerviee @haleidontknow @imjusttheretofightforlove @moonstonedeluluera @tieflingteatime @syddieuh @savakewl @shinebright2000 @bakugo-apologist98 @queenie-b- @whenyoushipuponastar

#simon riley smut #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #cod mw2 #ghost cod #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare 2 #ghost smut #ghost angst #ghost mw2 #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #simon riley #ghost x reader #ghost x you #ghost fluff #simon riley fluff #simon riley angst

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dredgesnails · 2 months

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I love to imagine the magic mountain bases all actually existing completely separately from each other in completely different time periods (almost), despite being physically in the same location.

In the ancient world, pyramids are constructed at the base of a huge volcano to honor the dead and worship old gods. A wide path leads to an entrance into the volcano, far enough in that the heat gets dangerous. Inside, sacrifices are made to the gods, to their king, offerings given up for the benefit of them all. The king is kind and forgiving, loyal to his people, asking for little and giving as much as he can. The gods however, are cruel, and all civilisations must fall eventually. For this one it's after a great eruption, one that shakes the earth with all the fury of the gods, that the pyramids become abandoned, left alone for centuries to erode. Over time new life grows, and thick jungles begin to hide the pyramids from view, until eventually, they’ve become a part of the natural landscape. Venture far enough in, however, and you might find remnants of the ancient civilisation: old writing in a language no one knows anymore, praises given to their old king; the remnants of ancient weapons and armour; the shapes of people who once lived forever preserved in ash and pumice.

It's the start of the industrial revolution, and rumours start spreading of an eclectic man and his steamrail full of exotic animals from across the globe. He’s a travelling zoo, of sorts, appearing in the strangest of places (as long as there's a railway line, he'll be there), areas it logically shouldn't be able to reach. He’s got all sorts of animals, from dolphins and turtles to strange, mysterious beasts. Where does he keep them all when they're not on the train? Some say he doesn't exist. others insist he does, that he lives underneath a mountain no one dares to visit. It's an active volcano, they say, dangerous to go near. If anyone dared to explore they might stumble upon the largest, most diverse collection of animals they've ever seen, and, most bizarrely, a large steam locomotive that runs on its own railway track, seemingly on a loop through the volcano itself. The tunnel is so dark the train disappears into it entirely. a young exploration group decide to find out for themselves, years later, and at first they think there's nothing there, until one of them stumbles upon the obvious remnants of a railway line, no longer in use but not so old that it's started to break down. Maybe he did exist after all...

In the late 1800s, a small fishing community establishes itself by the mountain. Electricity is new, and with the new machines and motors available to them the community quickly grows into a small village. Something is wrong, though. The rocks embedded in the mountain appear to resemble a skull more and more by the day, water streaming from one eye socket as though it’s crying. Underground passages and tunnels are found by the new residents, all leading to strange chambers. There's something in the water. A young man, one of the first in the village, disappears for a month, and when he returns, he's changed. He insists the ocean speaks to him, to everyone through him. He fishes for hours, days, weeks on end. When his madness begins infecting others, most gain the sense to stay away from him, but not everyone does. There's something in the water.

By the mid 1920s, the small fishing village is still standing, although most of the residents from four decades ago have since left. A young woman, traveling alone in her tiny fishing boat, docks at the village in need of repairs. What was meant to be a one night stay turns into days, then weeks, then months, as she begins to notice strange happenings in the village. A local artist has locked himself in his house, gone mad from something he found in the ocean. A scientist is experimenting with strange materials, and sometimes at night strange noises come from her house. There's something in the water. An older man speaks in tongues, driven mad by the sea. There's something in the water. The young fisher sees him occasionally, staring through her, unseeing. She's begun dreaming of ancient monsters in the depths of the water below her, reaching their long arms out and crushing her and everyone else. When she looks into the sea she can't see anything. It’s just inky blackness.

(No one knows how the village gets destroyed. One day it's here, and the next it's turned to rubble, razed to the ground by forces beyond human perception. It appears no one survived, but strangely, there's no trace of the small fishing boat the young woman had arrived in, nor of her body, and if anyone stopped for long enough in the wrecked city they might hear mumbling at night from underground, the mad ramblings of a man who has seen too much.)

Magic mountain row thrives in the early 2000s. They’ve beaten the Y2K bug (it really wasn't that much of a problem, anyway), business is booming at all the independent stores, and the local economy is better than ever. It doesn’t matter that not many people want to live here because new tech keeps Big Ron busy, and Willie Jr is old enough to start working at his father's shop, preparing himself to take over the business. The safe storage containers are always a little open, but nothing ever really goes missing, because no new people means everyone knows everyone. A young boy visits his neighbours for the last time before he leaves with his family; his dad's got a better job somewhere far away and they have to leave now, and besides it’s safer not to live by a barely-dormant volcano (it’s not as cool, though). His new neighbourhood has a lot more kids his age, but he can't help but miss the eccentric nature of his old neighbours. He returns to his childhood home twenty years later to find it empty. Most of magic mountain row is empty now, actually. There are a few places still open: Big Ron refuses to close up shop because Willie Jr, who has taken over the business now that his father's passed, still needs his help from time to time. Anyone still living here is merely clinging to a past they remember so fondly they can't adapt for the future. They're happy, though. They’re happy to remain here until it's their time to go.

In the not-so-distant future, a dense city is formed on the mountain. It started out as a smaller town, with traditional architecture and shrines dotted around the place, but as technology advanced and society progressed it grew and evolved into towering skyscrapers, holographic billboards, a rail system that winds through buildings and above streets. Elements of the past still remain - lush gardens lined with cherry blossom trees, the old shrines and temples still standing, a mark of the city's history and longevity. The city stands the longest, weathers the strongest storms, grows and evolves and changes, but all must come to an end, eventually. A rumbling in the earth, a once-dormant volcano waking from its slumber. They have the tech to know it's coming, now, so they all flee before it can hit. Only one man stays behind. This is his city. This is his home. He built this entire place from the ground up, and he’s not going to leave it behind. He makes his way to one of the shrines. Praying to his goddess, he leaves her one final offering, and when the ash settles all trace of him is gone.

The apocalypse happens in a future beyond our reckoning. A city lies, abandoned by most, on top of the ruins of civilisations that came before. Once a lively hub of activity and tech and innovation, the city has become a ghost town, occupied only by the artificial intelligences that had driven humanity out. They wander aimlessly, mimicking the behaviours of the humans they used to watch and help, protecting the inner core of their city that keeps everything, including themselves, alive. The humans reside elsewhere, in a bunker resembling the old world, with more vegetation and life than the city had despite being hidden underground. The city’s architects reassure everyone that they’ll be able to return someday soon. The one who designed the robots, a man more cyber than human by this point, just needs to fix a few issues with their programming. He doesn’t want to destroy them but he might have to. His partner, who designed most of the city, will need to commence repairs before anyone can live in the city again. So they leave, vowing to fix the city so that everyone can return to society. No one knows they will never return.

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literaryvein-reblogs · 26 days

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Some Art Vocabulary

Abstract - Simplified, intended to capture an aspect or essence of an object or idea rather than to represent reality.

Amber - Tree resin that has become a fossil. It is semi-transparent and gem-like. Amber is used in jewelry today as it has been for thousands of years.

Amulet - Object, organic or inorganic, believed to provide protection and turn away bad luck. Amulets were often worn as jewelry in antiquity.

Anneal - To heat metal to make it soft and pliable.

Black-figure - Technique of vase painting developed in Greece in the 7th and 6th centuries BCE and adopted by the Etruscans. Figures are painted on a reddish clay vase in black silhouette and details are then cut away with a sharp point down to the red below. Sometimes artists added additional colors, especially purple-red and white.

Bronze Disease - Corrosion of a bronze object that cannot be permanently stabilized. Without special care, an object with bronze disease will continue to corrode.

Bust - Portrait of a person including the head and neck, and sometimes the shoulders and part of the chest.

Cameo Glass - Glass produced by layering two or more colors of glass. Generally, an upper layer of white stood out against a contrasting lower background, usually blue.

Cameo Stone - Hard stone, such as agate, naturally layered with bands of color. Artists took advantage of the layers to carve figures or decoration from an upper layer (or more than one), leaving a background layer of a different color.

Cast - To make in a mold from liquid metal. A cast object can be hollow or solid.

Chasing - Technique of adding definition and details to an image or design on metal from the front using blunt and sharp tools.

Conservator (of antiquities) - Professional responsible for preserving ancient objects and materials. Conservators usually have a general knowledge of chemistry and of ancient art-making practices and are often specialists in one material. Among many other responsibilities, they conduct technical and historical research and oversee preventive care such as climate control.

Contrapposto - (”opposite” in Italian) Pose of a standing figure with most of the weight on one leg and the other bent. This causes hips, shoulders, and head to shift in order to balance the body. One arm is often higher and one lower.

Emery - Hard, dense rock rich in corundum, found easily on the Cycladic Islands. A powerful abrasive for grinding and smoothing other stones.

Encaustic - Technique of painting using colored pigments mixed with wax. The waxy mixture was worked with a tiny spatula.

Gild - To apply a thin layer of gold foil or liquid gold (gilt) to create the look of solid gold.

Iconography - Study of and use in art of repeated images with symbolic meaning.

Incise - To press or cut into a surface (stone, metal, clay, wood) with a sharp tool to write text or create fine curving and linear details.

Inlay - To decorate an object by inserting a piece of another material into it so that it is even with the original surface.

Low Relief - Method of carving figures or designs into a surface so that they are raised slightly above a flat background.

Mosaic - Technique and type of artwork. The technique is to arrange cubes of stone, glass, and ceramic to form patterns and pictures in cement, usually on a floor. The artwork is the final story or decoration made of cubes.

Mummification - Process of preserving a body by drying it. The Egyptians removed internal organs and put natron, a natural mineral mixture, on and inside the body. This absorbed moisture and prevented decay.

Palmette - Stylized palm leaf used as decoration in ancient Greek and Roman art and architecture.

Pentelic - From Mount Pentelicus, near Athens. An adjective that mostly refers to the beautiful white Greek marble marble in its quarries.

Portrait - Image of a person, usually the head and face. Some portraits include part of the chest or show the whole body. The image may closely resemble a person or emphasize, idealize, or invent characteristics.

Repoussé - Technique of raising the outline of a design on metal by repeatedly heating and softening the metal and pushing the desired shapes into it from the back with a blunt tool.

Sarcophagus/Sarcophagi (pl) - Stone coffin, often decorated on the sides with mythological scenes carved in relief, sometimes with the image of the deceased person or couple on the lid. Used in Imperial Roman times from the early 100s into the 400s CE.

Stele/Stelai (pl) - Upright stone or wooden slab or pillar used to honor a person or mark a place. Often an inscribed grave marker or a boundary stone. (Also called stela/stelae.)

Syncretism - Blending of elements of different cultures, often resulting in new imagery or new interpretations.

Tessera/tesserae (pl) - Pieces of stone or other hard materials cut into squares or cubes to make mosaic art.

More: Word Lists ⚜ pt. 2

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hedgehog-moss · 1 year

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Writers who use imitative harmony + the movement of their language to evoke meaning are so great to re-read once you’ve learnt this language, if you’ve read them in translation before, it feels like the best reward. I’m reading Annie Proulx in the original for the first time, and so much of her writing style was just not salvageable by French translators (< my condolences), because she intertwines sound with meaning so often, at least in Close Range, and French just doesn’t sound the same! so by translating the meaning you’ll sacrifice a lot of the style... It reminds me of a haunted house book in French that also made me think “haha RIP translators” because it made great use of sound—a lot of “u / eu / ou” to create a sort of sinister howling effect in some sentences, and one sentence about a closed door used “i” and “rr” sounds to give an ominous “creaking open” sensation without actually opening the door in the text...

This kind of thing always makes me reflect despairingly on how many authors I’ll never get to appreciate fully as I can’t read them in the original, but I’m glad to re-discover Annie Proulx at any rate! I mean compare the sound of a phrase like “a hundred dirt road shortcuts” to the French “des centaines de raccourcis, des routes de terre”... First of all the English phrase sounds clippety-cloppy, it sounds like hooves on a dirt road in a way that’s very hard to preserve in a language without syllable stress, but also the French language demands that you turn it into ‘a hundred of shortcurts of roads of dirt’, so it’s best to dilute it into two phrases, and you just lose the clippedness. It sounds less tight, more leisurely.

Same for the phrase “the tawny plain still grooved with pilgrim wagon ruts” vs. “la plaine fauve encore marquée des ornières laissées par les chariots des pèlerins.” That’s a 54% expansion ratio and once again you turn the tight clippedness of ‘grooved with pilgrim wagon ruts’ into ‘grooved with the ruts left by the wagons of the pilgrims.’ You just can’t avoid it, French words have to hold hands in a long procession rather than being stacked like pancakes on top of one another. And sometimes it makes for lovely stylistic effects too (*), but it doesn’t fit the style of a text like this one, which uses rhythm and sound in a very un-French way—rhythmicality in French tends to rely on long flowy phrasings rather than the potholed ruggedness this story demands. (I saw a NY Times article describe it as Annie Proulx “mining the ore of language out of a gritty Wyoming rockscape”)

The rhythm of this whole bit is so neat, you can snap your fingers along with it: “hard orange dawn, the world smoking, snaking dust devils on bare dirt, heat boiling out of the sun until the paint on the truck hood curled, ragged webs of dry rain that never hit the ground, through small-town traffic and stock on the road, band of horses in morning fog...”

The French version is not finger-snapping material but you can tell the translator did her very best to preserve the author’s intention by creating interesting rhythms in French as well. For “hard orange dawn” she could have kept close to the original with, say, “la dureté orange de l’aube” but instead she chose to turn ‘hard’ into a four-syllable adjective (éblouissante / blinding) to end up with a noticeable rhythm—“les aubes orange, éblouissantes,” one-two-three-four, one-two-three-four (and she made ‘dawn’ plural for the same reason.) She wasn’t able to preserve the g/r alliteration of “GRooved with pilGRim waGon Ruts” (although her translated phrase also has a lot of R’s) but she did preserve the ‘sss’ alliteration of “Smoking Snaking duSt” (“pouSSière Serpentant Sur le Sol”). Even with languages as close as French and English, for every stylistic effect you can save you have to sacrifice a few, or replace them with opposite effects which align better with your language’s notions of literary style (like with the orange dawn bit, doubling the length of a tight phrase so it can sound rhythmical).

You can tell all throughout the book that a lot of thought and care went into respecting Annie Proulx’s writing choices and you still end up with sentences that sound and move so differently. You get to see the limit of translation when authors fully lean on their language’s syntax and melody to help convey meaning, like poets do!

(*) Re: English stacking words and French linking them—this reminds me of an essay I read by an English translator of Proust who despaired of this difference in the opposite direction—saying some long, descriptive phrases in Proust with articles & prepositions linking words, and commas linking phrases with regularity, read like telling the beads of a rosary. And the sensation (or a lot of it) had to be sacrificed because English just does not use as many linking words as French, information is conveyed in a more economical way, so a lot of these sentences with a hypnotic rhythm like “the A, of the B, of the C, whereby the D, of the E, on an F” were often not achievable with English syntax or created redundancy (e.g. having to use ‘that’ or ‘which’ 5 times when French used different tool words). But he said he did try to form sentences that had this continuity, and meditative quality.

I don’t have a conclusion to this post other than to say something precious will be lost if human translation is replaced by AI translation, because literary translation involves creativity and ambiguity and aesthetic considerations and a dimension of instinctual feeling for your own language and the original style, and I don’t think any amount of data and processing power and artificial neural networks will yield the flavour of literary quality that emerges from human sensibility and care, from someone reading a sentence and thinking “this feels like hooves clippety-clopping down a dirt road” or “this feels like rolling the beads of a rosary” and starting from there...

#language tag #not sure if imitative harmony has the same meaning as harmonie imitative now that i think about it #in french i was taught that it’s a broader more ‘diluted’ stylistic device than onomatopoeia #as in writing 'bzzz' about an insect flying is onomatopoeia #writing a sentence about an insect with several 'b' and 'zz' sounds here and there is imitative harmony

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pixelmensupremacy · 2 years

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Ephemeral oblivion

A/N: I'm loving the remake so far. So, expect more fics in the far future.

Word count: 3.8k

WARNINGS: fem!reader, porn with no plot, a bit of blood, teasing, oral sex (fem receiving), unprotected sex, rough sex

The snow-white door, peppered with elegant golden ornaments, lead to an eerie corridor. Unnerving -almost alarming- silence had fallen upon the prolonged space, contrasting the commotion of the previous room that had been overcrowded with hostile courtiers the two agents were forced to take out. The stone brick walls emitted coolness and a cold breeze oozed from the tall windows; the dust-covered glass revealed the dreadful night sky deprived of the gentle moonlight that was obstructed by a thick sheet of puffy, smoky clouds. A lonely antique brass floor lamp stood in a darkened corner, serving no purpose other than decoration; opposite of the lamp was a small wooden coffee table atop which rested a typewriter.

"That was close." Leon panted, hot puffs of air escaped past his agape mouth, his chest rose and feel back against the door. Beads of sweat had broken out on his fair skin, making it glow under the scarce moonlight; the muscles of his arms were tense as they pressed against the hard wood, the impact caused a few of his veins to pop out, trailing deep blue and purple creeks that trailed along his pale skin up to the pinnacle of his biceps.

"You don't say." (Y/N) tsked as she shifted her attention away from his masterpiece of a body, leaning against the cold wall just mere inches away from him and relished the pleasant sensation of the stone bricks cooling her overheated body instead. Her heart raced in her ribcage; every beat echoed loudly in her ears.

Once the effects of the adrenaline began to wear off, the pleasant coolness of the room quickly turned into an unbearable coldness. Despite having her arms wrapped around her torso in a hopeless attempt to preserve her body heat, (Y/N) shivered as the howling wind blew in the narrow space; the haunting noise only caused another set of shivers to run down her spine. Beside her, Leon seemed unphased by the cool weather and his lack of clothing; it almost made her blood boil at how carelessly he would walk around with a short-sleeved turtle neck the thin fabric of which unlikely did anything to keep him warm. Her envious eyes lingered on his form, continuing to doubt he was able to withstand the low temperatures, instead she sensed a spark rekindling deep within her that brought the warm feeling of thrill she so desperately tried to repress ever since the beginning of this assignment.

Blood traveled to her cheeks, blissfully warming them up; her pupils dilated further, darkening her gaze that continued to trace the outlines of his sculpturesque form that appeared silky smooth and flawless hugged by the gray material of his turtle neck that she couldn’t help but associate with a notional look of a fantasy creature, blessing her with its presence. Her hands trembled as the adrenaline had completely evaporated from her bloodstream and she was left with a wave of cold sweat that coated her shivering form. Heat radiated from his body, drawing her in. His captivating appeal repelled her as much as it attracted her. Even if she tried her best to distance herself from Leon in the end, she found herself clinging closer to him; it was a vicious circle she couldn’t get out of and she hated herself for it. From their very first encounter, (Y/N) knew she should avoid him, not get involved in a situation that may result in a heartbreak. Though, as if it was some sick joke the universe was playing on her, fate only brought them closer and now she was forced to deal with it.

"A 'thank you' would be nice." He looked at her. The blues of his eyes were deep, different hues collided together as his pupils dilated and ate away at the beautiful ocean of emotions, instead leaving behind gaping holes that -akin to a black hole- could swallow her whole.

"For what?" She raised her brow at him, her own gaze now locked on his as her eyes squinted.

"For saving your ass." The corners of his lips curled in a smug grin; he pressed his shoulder against the door, shifting his form so he was fully facing her. Intentionally or not, he successfully anchored her attention to his broad shoulders; (Y/N)’s eyes followed the outline of his form that threw a shadow across her much smaller one.

“And how exactly did you do that?” She stood on her tip toes, almost completely closing the already short distance between them. Leon’s hot breath hit her face as he let out a deep chuckle; the melodic sound resonated through her, tingling her senses in a way they have never been. Silence fell upon them; his icy orbs bore into her (E/C) ones as he darted his tongue across his bottom lip, coating it with saliva that glistened under the dim moonshine. (Y/N) felt her heartbeat picking up once more, in anticipation for the last drop to overflow the glass of repressed emotions and release the awfully obvious sexual tension between them.

“You get distracted easily.” He tailed off; his gaze observed her face, monitoring her features. “Take it as a friendly advice from me. Try not to daydream on the job, it could get you killed and I won’t always be there to watch after your ass even if I would like to.” He breathed out the last words, loud enough for (Y/N) to hear; the tone of his voice was suggestive, giving a double meaning to his statement. Heat rose to her cheeks; anger and embarrassment ran through her veins.

How dare he?

Pulling at the strap, tightly wrapped around his muscular chest, she held him from drawing back; her gaze- ablaze with flames of anger- pierced through him, causing him to freeze in place. Her eyebrow knit together casted a shadow above her eyes; his own darted between her captivating gaze and her oh so inviting lips.

“Maybe if you didn’t flirt with me every five minutes, I would’ve been able to focus on my job!” (Y/N) snapped back at him; the force of her grip grew as Leon’s face kept getting closer to hers with each passing second. “Perhaps you’re the one, who should stop daydreaming while on duty since your head is always in the clouds.”

“Is that so?” He dared, staring right back at her.

“Yeah. You can’t have every woman you lay your eyes on. Get it in that head of yours.” Her gaze darted downwards, breaking the eye contact for a split second- the single moment that took Leon to make a choice he might regret later. Digging his hand in her hair, he tangled his fingers in her locks as he closed the space between them. Soft lips crashed against hers in a passionate kiss that was both hesitant and needy. Boldly, (Y/N) leaned in and wrapped her arms around his neck; her nails lightly scratched at his skin, the sensation caused a whimper to rip through his throat and drown in her greedy mouth. Her fingers toyed with the hair at the base of his skull, dragging her nails along his scalp and digging them, intentionally coaxing the pretty sounds that resonated against her lips. Wandering hands traveled across the curves of her body, groping at any soft flesh they came across. (Y/N) bit at his bottom lip, breaking the kiss as she took her time sucking and pulling at the velvety skin. Continuing the abuse on his lip, she punctured the pillow soft flesh, causing droplets of blood to spill on her tongue and roll down her chin. The metallic taste tingled her taste buds as she lapped at his plum lip before she continued her venture down to his jaw. Sucking and kissing, she trailed the sharp line of the bone; Leon’s shaky breath tickled her ear. Strong force pulled her away right before she could reach the warm, delicate skin of his neck. Though she didn’t protest as she took a glance of his face; so worked up and messy. His mouth blood stained and agape, his eyes lustful and desperate, yet controlled and contained as they were focused on her.

“What’s up, Kennedy? Giving up so easily?” She tapped her fingers on his arms that held her at a distance.

“I didn’t expect you to be the freaky type is all.” Her heartfelt laughter resonated in his ears.

“Well, you better buckle up for what I got in store.” She shot him a mischievous look and leaned in for another kiss that Leon wholeheartedly welcomed all the while a similar impish grin curled the corners of his mouth. His palms ran down to her ass, groping the skin in a rough manner; (Y/N) whimpered, unintentionally granting him access to her mouth, where he sucked and bit at her tongue. She hissed; her nails dug in his flesh once more this time inflicting the same blissful pain on him. The calloused skin of his finger pads ran underneath the fabric of her gear, slightly pulling them down only to toy with the plush skin of her inner thighs. Shivers ran down her spine at the sensation of his cool digits rubbing in circular motions that were dangerously close to her aching pussy; the friction of his fingers on her velvety skin brought a warming sensation that made her forget about the chill inducing breeze. The air around them seemed to thicken; she felt breathless as Leon’s lips tirelessly pressed against hers.

(Y/N) gasped for air once he finally pulled away, a string of their mixed saliva connected their plump lips; their gazes were locked on one another, their foreheads were pressed against each other all the while their noses slightly brushed. Her breath was still shaky and her hands were clasped together around his neck, balancing her weight on him. The golden curtain of his bangs tickled her flushed cheek.

“Are you sure you want this?” His low voice was delicate and sweet.

“More than anything.” Desperation flickered behind the (E/C) of her almost invisible irises, hidden behind the gaping black of her pupils. A bright smile appeared on his face, making his stupid face all the more irresistible, though (Y/N) couldn’t appreciate the sight enough as she was suddenly lifted from the ground in a singular motion as if she weighted nothing. A yelp escaped past her lips at the grip of his arms tightening around her thighs; in return her own grip on him tightened as well almost chocking him under the impact of her hold. Though it seemed that didn’t bother Leon much, for his attention was focused on getting rid of the barrier of vexatious fabrics that restricted him from the pleasure he was so eagerly seeking. With his body he pinned her against the cold wall, whilst his hands worked on undoing her gear.

A gasp escaped past her lips as the cold air made its presence known with the cool breeze caressing her exposed ass, though Leon’s electrifying touch kept the flame within her ablaze; his hot breath and the warmth emitted from his body, made for a nice contrast to the freezing cold of the stone bricks (Y/N) was pressed against. For a few brief moments, Leon stood still with only his gaze scanning their surroundings in cautious manner; his attention was caught by the odd typewriter. The typewriter itself wasn’t strange but its presence in a desolate corridor was inapposite to say the least; so, without hesitation, Leon knocked it to the ground and sat (Y/N) on the table, where the machine was previously placed.

“Salazar’s not going to be happy when he sees this.” She remarked, the joking tone in her voice brought a smile to Leon’s face.

“A broken typing machine is going to be the least of his worries once we’re finished.” He struck her with a mischievous smirk as he got on his knees; hooking his fingers under the band of her pants, he pulled the fabric all the way down to her ankles. Holding her knees, he spread her legs apart; his gaze found hers all the while his palms crept up to her inner thighs, where his fingers rubbed circles into her plush skin. (Y/N)’s body jolted at his touch gentle and teasing as he avoided the place, she needed him most. Keeping his keen gaze on her, he toyed at her entrance, circling and pressing at her dripping hole without thrusting even an inch. The impact of his fingers on her aching core had her squirm, yet the stimuli was far from enough to grant her the actual pleasure she was seeking- or at least not in the amounts she wanted.

You’re so wet, sweetheart.” He remarked, a smug grin had curled the corners of his lips. “But I don’t skip prep so, you’ll have to wait a bit. I promise it’s gonna be worth it.” At first (Y/N) wasn’t pleased with his words; having thought of this moment in her wildest dreams for so long, her patience was wearing thin, though the words of protest drowned in the base of her throat and her mind went blank as she felt familiar pillow soft lips press against her sensitive bundle of nerves. Numerous moans and pants rolled down her swollen lips, her body shivered as the shocks of pleasure ran through her nerves. Pleased with her responsiveness, Leon hummed in delight; the vibration of his voice sent a new, stronger wave of pleasure that had her head rolling back and shamelessly moaning his name.

“You know..” He trailed off, (Y/N) practically felt his words against her pussy as her head was too clouded with the obscene delight of the situation, she found herself in, to be able to hear him properly. “As much as I like to hear your pretty sounds.” He spoke in between quick licks, making sure to not deprive her of the sensation that had her in the state of trance; his slick covered hand traveled up her body. “You’ll have to be quiet. Could you do that for me? I wouldn’t want anyone to crash our party.” She nodded eagerly, obliging without hesitation.

“Good.” Reaching her face, he prompted his index and middle fingers on her bottom lip. She darted the pads of his digits with her tongue, tasting herself off of him. Cautiously, Leon pressed his fingers against her hot tongue; he chuckled once she took them in her mouth. Her- now muffled- moans tingled his ears as he licked, kissed and sucked on her clit; he was almost out of breath, yet he kept going, rubbing circles on the place where his lips used to be every time he pulled back to catch his breath. Taking a glimpse of her, he noticed her eyes shut tight, sparkling droplets of tears had formed underneath the curtain of lashes, saliva spilled from the corners of her mouth and down his hand; the sight alone was enough to get Leon on edge if he wasn’t already, the growing excitement- restrained in his pants- made itself known as he was suddenly aware of the almost painful friction of the fabric of his gear rubbing against his hardened cock.

Pulling away, Leon took a deep breath in, in a failed attempt to ground himself as he took a hold of his throbbing dick through the fabric of his pants. (Y/N) whined at the lack of attention; stealing a glance of him, she saw him undoing his pants and eagerly stroking himself. Smug grin curled the corners of her mouth at the sight of him so lost in his own pleasure- the few moments he promised himself to calm himself down had turned into a minute, during which she carefully watched him all the while toying with her neglected clit herself.

A sequence of soft moans coming from the both of them composed a titillating melody that echoed across the empty space, breaking the dead silence of the lonely night. Leon’s eyes peeled open only to be met with the exquisite view of (Y/N); her fingers tirelessly pumped her hole, desperately trying to compensate for the pleasure he deprived her from, though seemingly with no effect. Stroking himself, he observed her- almost pathetic- striving to reach the pleasure she so desired. To him she looked adorable; her eyes were shut tight, her mouth agape with his name overtly rolling down her plump lips, creeks of tears traced paths along her cheeks. It took him all the willpower within him not to cum at the sight alone, and that’s when he decided he’s had enough of the foreplay.

Standing up, Leon took a hold of her legs; instinctively, she wrapped her limbs around his hips, bringing him closer to the point where she felt the weight of his cock, pressing against her lower tummy just mere inches away from her aching core. His darkened gaze bore into hers as he prompted his dick at the entrance of her dripping hole. The pad of his calloused thumb caressed her cheekbone, (Y/N) leaned into the touch as his hefty palm cupped her face, locking her gaze with his.

“Are you ready, sweetheart?” He sounded serious, hesitant even, as if he wasn’t sure if it all wasn’t just another dream.

“Thought you wouldn’t ask.” She earned a deep chuckle from the man, which in return caused a tingle to form in her stomach; in return she smiled, pleased with able to make him laugh- genuinely. It almost felt awarding to be the reason behind his melodic laughter and charming smile- and god was she enamored by it.

“Hold tight.” Leon whispered in her ear, causing the tiny hairs on her neck to rise and bumps to cover the entirety of her exposed skin. Excitement rushed through her veins at the feeling of his hands caressing her hips and thighs before taking a hold of them; Leon glanced at (Y/N), silently asking for permission to grant them pleasure they both were yearning for. She kissed him as a form of a wordless sign of approval; her hands wrapped around his neck with her fingers tangling in his dirty blond locks, her nails lightly scratched his scalp as her grip on him tightened and loosened. Her breath hitched, her mouth fell open, a yelp escaped past her lips as the sudden, bittersweet feeling of being filled ripped through her core. Leon stood still, giving her time to adjust to the grith and length of him.

“Did I hurt you?” Concern was audible in his voice; his forehead pressed against hers. She shook her head no, giving him the relief needed for him to push all the way in. His lips pressed against hers, drowning the moans with his tongue that twirled with hers. Slowly, he pulled all the way out and glid the tip across her slit up to her neglected clit; in response, her body jolted and she whined at his teasing movements. Luckily for (Y/N), he soon pushed back in, instantly hitting a spot that had her seeing stars. Consistently thrusting in and out, Leon set a steady pace equally pleasurable for the both of them.

Gradually, her moans and groans grew more frequent and louder; her nails dug into his fair skin once again, leaving behind crescent marks on it. Biting at her bottom lip, Leon attempted to silence her sounds as they were too distracting for him to keep an eye out for any intruders- not that he really was able to do so. Quite the opposite, she groaned and let out a high-pitched moan as the tip of his cock hit her sweet spot. Once more, Leon kissed her; his hands groped her ass, kneading the flesh all the while bringing her hips flush against his, making it easier for him to continuously hit the places that had her squirm- and so he did. She was completely melted under his touch, eyes rolled to the back of her skull as if she was haunted by some diabolic entity, messy (H/C) strands stuck to her sweaty forehead, her entire body bounced at the impact of his merciless thrusts. His pace was quite rough, yet (Y/N) wouldn’t have it any other way.

Leon’s muscles tensed, his vision got blurry as the only thing he could sense was the pleasure, threatening to unfold and her sweet voice on his lips. Her velvety folds hugged him so perfectly and her juices generously coated his cock, making for the erotic melody of wet sounds and the ones of skin slapping skin with each of his rough thrusts. He knew he wouldn’t last much longer and nor could (Y/N). Her body jolted, her grip on him grew even tighter, her back arched off the cold wall she was pressed against under the impact of his body that pinned her. She pulled away from his greedy mouth, gasping for air; pulling on his hair. Near his earlobe, she whispered his name continuously akin to a mantra, her lips brushed against his ear, until a single, loud moan ripped from deep within her throat. Her vision got blurry as the wave of pleasure finally washed over her, unraveling the coil that had formed in her tummy. Though Leon kept going, pushing in and out in pursuit of his own high; her sweet sounds, tingling his ears, brought him dangerously close to his high sooner than he anticipated and the clench of her plush walls around him was enough to send him over the edge. Hot loads of cum coated her pussy. (Y/N) burned in overstimulation as he kept thrusting, riding out both of their highs until his thrust got sloppy and he slowed his pace.

For a few moments, that felt like eternity, the two stayed intertwined, catching their breaths as they came down from their orgasms. Glancing at each other through hooded, drunken eyes the two chuckled in disbelief, the pure joy in their laughter resonated across the room. Gently, Leon tucked a strand of hair that fell in her face, the tiny gesture so warming and full of affection.

“Why haven’t we done this earlier?” She panted; the breath flowed through her burning lungs.

“Well, I’ve been trying to get in your pants since the day I saw you.” Leon winked at her.

“How romantic.” She playfully hit him as she got on her still wobbly legs.

“We should have a round two. Once we get out of this mess.”

“Yeah, but first we gotta clean our mess.” She got on her still wobbly legs and glanced at the poor table that had turned into a pond of their mixed bodily liquids.

“Sadler must have maids or something.” Leon tsked.

“Unless they are brainless creatures by now.” The two of them giggled, still intoxicated from the aftershocks of their highs.

#resident evil fanfiction #resident evil x reader #re4 remake #leon scott kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x reader

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los-plantalones · 5 months

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Let’s make some color-changing botanical ink using grape hyacinth (muscari) flowers!

Ingredients:

1 cup grape hyacinth flowers

1 cup water

2 tablespoons vinegar

1 teaspoon salt

2-4 drops gum arabic (not necessary but USEFUL)

2 drops wintergreen oil or 1 whole clove (also not necessary but useful)

Instructions:

Add the flowers and water to a non-reactive pot (stainless steel, ceramic, or enamel-coated). Pots that are aluminum or copper can affect your colors!

Bring to a boil, and add the vinegar and salt. Boil for about five more minutes, then turn down to a simmer, stirring occasionally (again, the spoon should be a non-reactive material like wood or stainless steel).

Simmer for 10 minutes, at which point you can test the color by dipping in a strip of paper to see if you like how it looks.

If it looks good, congrats – you’re done! If you want a more intense color, continue simmering, testing with a paper strip every 15 minutes or so until the color is to your liking (this shouldn’t take more than an hour).

Remove from heat and let the mixture cool to room temp.

Filter the flowers using a fine mesh strainer. I use a stainless steel coffee filter for this purpose and it works great.

Pour your ink into a sterilized glass jar and add 2-4 drops liquid gum arabic, which is a natural binder that will 1) keep the liquid and pigment together and 2) thicken the mixture and make it easier to work with.

Add 2 drops of wintergreen oil or 1 whole clove, which are natural preservatives that will help extend the life of your ink.

Label your jar and store it in the refrigerator if not using right away.

YOU DID IT! Now go forth and have fun with your muscari ink.

** The ink will appear very purple, but when put to paper dries in varying shades of blue. If you want to experiment with color further, add an acid (lemon juice) to produce shades of pink, and a basic (baking soda) to make shades of green.

*** Because of the changing nature of the ink, what your painting/writing looks like will change over time! I have muscari paintings that started bright blue/purple but have faded to almost entirely green. Some have stayed blue. That's the fun of it!!

#plantalones tutorials #wildcraft #botanical ink #muscari #grape hyacinth #flowers #color changing ink #ink making #ALSO only use the pot you use for making ink FOR MAKING INK #this should be obvious but I KNOW YOU GUYS

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giazhou1 · 8 months

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SINOYQX melamine resin foam can provide effective thermal insulation, fire protection, heat preservation, lightweight, low-cost, and other comprehensive solutions for new energy power battery packs. It provides efficient thermal management, safety, and low-cost solutions for power batteries.

#thermal insulation materials #melamine foam #melamine resin foam #flame retardant materials #new energy battery pack materials #battery protection materials #heat preservation material

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coven-of-genesis · 1 year

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Different magical element meanings

Magical elements are a common concept in various cultures and fantasy settings. They typically represent fundamental forces or energies that can be harnessed for mystical purposes.

Here are some of the commonly recognized magical elements:

1. Earth: Often associated with stability, grounding, and the physical world. It encompasses concepts like stone, soil, plants, and minerals.

2. Air: Representing intellect, communication, and freedom. Air magic pertains to the element of wind, breeze, and the unseen forces around us.

3. Fire: Symbolising transformation, passion, and energy. Fire magic is connected to flames, heat, and the spark of life.

4. Water: Signifying emotions, intuition, and adaptability. Water magic relates to rivers, oceans, rain, and the flow of energies.

5. Spirit (or Aether): Sometimes considered a fifth element, representing the divine or spiritual essence that connects all things. It's the bridge between the material and the ethereal.

6. Light: Often associated with purity, illumination, and enlightenment. Light magic embodies concepts of clarity, truth, and goodness.

7. Darkness (or Shadow): Representing mystery, the subconscious, and the unknown. Dark magic encompasses hidden knowledge, mystery, and the depths of the human psyche.

8. Metal: Less common but occasionally included, metal magic focuses on concepts like strength, structure, and transformation.

9. Ice: In some traditions, ice is treated as a distinct element. It embodies cold, stillness, and the power of preservation.

10. Electricity (or Lightning): This represents energy and power, often associated with speed and sudden change.

Remember, the interpretation and inclusion of these elements can vary widely depending on the culture, belief system, or fictional universe in question. Some systems may include additional elements or have unique perspectives on the traditional ones.

#witchblr #witchcore #witchcraft #witchlife #white witch #beginner witch #witch tips #grimoire #green witch #spirituality #the elements #magical elements #book of shadows

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crystallinestars · 29 days

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NSFW Alphabet - Diluc

Here you go @scarlettpebbles! I hope this meets your expectations. I ended up writing Diluc kinkier than intended, but I swear he's very gentle and romantic in bed 🥺 I just got a little carried away in some parts, please forgive me.

Diluc x fem!Reader

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Diluc is very diligent with aftercare. He always checks if you’re alright before fetching wet towels for both of you and will carry you to the bathtub if you’re too tired to walk. He likes to clean both of you up after sex because he’d rather not stay smelling of sweat and musk throughout the night, especially if he has unfinished business to take care of afterward.

After lovemaking, Diluc prefers to spend some time cuddling and basking in the afterglow, kissing your hands or face, running his fingers through your hair, or giving you a small massage on the areas of your body you say are sore. He’s very gentle towards you during these moments because he wants you to feel cared for and loved (though sex with him is already very passionate and loving).

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

On himself, Diluc likes his arms. They’re surprisingly muscular under that black coat, and the strength they’re capable of allows him to protect or to pick up and carry you, which he enjoys.

As for your body, he finds there’s something incredibly alluring about your neck. Diluc loves to kiss your neck. It can be simple, chaste little pecks of affection or wet, open-mouthed kisses in the heat of the moment. His mouth is simply drawn towards your neck. Diluc also loves the sight of your nape and feels the urge to nuzzle into and kiss it whenever it’s exposed. When he gets lost in the pleasure of making love to you, Diluc sometimes gently bites your nape in a primal, possessive sort of way. It’s not painful but can leave a little mark if he’s not careful.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He cums an average amount. It’s thick, has no smell, and is a healthy white color.

Diluc prefers to come inside you for the added intimacy since he feels closer to you that way. It’s a perfect ending to the otherwise already great moment.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Diluc will never tell you this, but before you had become a couple, you once took a stroll with him around Dawn Winery, when it suddenly started raining. Both of you were soaking wet by the time you made it back to the manor, and the way your wet clothes clung to your figure caught his attention.

Diluc got an eyeful of your bra and cleavage showing through the see-through material of your soaked blouse, and that image seared itself into his brain. Though he quickly averted his gaze and covered you with his coat (“To prevent you from getting cold,” he said, and while true, it was also in part to preserve your modesty), the image never left his mind. It got to him more than he wanted to admit but didn’t show it. If you looked very closely, you would have noticed his reddened cheeks, but otherwise, he remained a cordial gentleman.

Afterward, whenever he masturbated to relieve stress, that memory of you in see-through, wet clothing would float up to the forefront of his mind, arousing him even more. He’s ashamed to admit he masturbated to such fantasies of you, but it would be a lie to say he didn’t enjoy it.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Diluc has no experience. As a young knight, he believed in saving himself for marriage, and after his father’s passing, he was simply too busy to find a partner. Moreover, he has a reputation to uphold as a Ragnvindr nobleman, so Diluc takes care to not tarnish it by sleeping around. As such, he has very little experience with sex, but he is knowledgeable about how to please a partner.

He’s naturally a thorough person, so his approach to sex is thorough, as well. He’s a quick learner and pays careful attention to your directions, so he will hone his bedroom skills fairly quickly. Everything from eating you out, to the type of foreplay you like, to how deep or fast you like it—Diluc will find out everything and take that information to heart. That said, he would love it if you directly told him what you liked and disliked so he could better cater to your needs.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Diluc is fond of positions where he can see your face and easily share kisses or hold your hand. His top favorite is missionary because it allows both those things, plus he enjoys feeling you cling to him during the act.

He also enjoys spooning and feeling your body pressed flush against him while leisurely thrusting inside you.

Diluc is also fond of hiking your legs up on his shoulders or pushing your knees to your chest for a deeper penetration and tighter squeeze around his cock.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Diluc takes sex seriously, so you won’t find him acting silly or cracking jokes. However, if you’re more on the goofy side, then he’ll play along with you and even engage in a tickle fight if he’s in the mood. Overall, he’s serious yet romantic during the act.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Diluc keeps himself well-groomed down there, so he occasionally trims his pubic hair to keep it tidy. If you ask, he’s willing to clean-shave, but otherwise will keep a patch down there. His pubic hair is a few shades darker than the hair on his head.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Diluc is a romantic by nature, so he falls into the category of men who view sex as more than just stress relief and a fun time. To him, it’s an act of making love where he can deepen his relationship with you on all levels. His motto is to woo you before even thinking of engaging in sex. He will wine and dine you, give you a massage, cuddle, take you on a date etc… basically, do all he can to create a relaxing and romantic atmosphere to deepen your connection.

Diluc’s goal is to make you feel loved and appreciated as his lover. He knows he’s not always the best boyfriend at making time for you due to his busy schedule, so he goes all out in trying to relay his romantic feelings and appreciation for you through sex. Sex is not just a physical connection to Diluc, but also an emotional one, and he works hard to maintain that bond.

He’s very gentle and sweet with you. You will be pampered and have your every whim catered to (provided it’s not something harmful). Diluc also whispers a lot of “I love yous” and praises about how beautiful you are. He’s very passionate and romantic during sex.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Diluc doesn’t masturbate often. He is very busy with his day and night jobs, so he doesn’t have a lot of free time. When he does have time to unwind, he prefers to do something more productive than getting himself off. However, there are days when he can’t ignore his sexual urges, so he succumbs to the desire and masturbates. When he does, it’s generally in the bath/shower where he has privacy and can easily clean up the mess from his orgasm. He’s good at staying quiet, but he doesn’t want to risk being caught doing something so improper by his servants.

When masturbating, he used to think about scenes in erotic books he once read or of scenarios he found hot, but after entering a romantic relationship with you, his thoughts gravitated toward you instead. He would remember the sounds of your moans and heated praises, your facial expressions during orgasm, how you tasted on his tongue, and how your mouth felt on his flesh. His memories of you are always effective at getting him to climax, though they come with the side effect of him wanting to experience these moments with you again, making him lust for you.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Diluc is mostly vanilla and is unlikely to try any hardcore BDSM kinks or something risky, but he does have a few kinks he likes. For example, he enjoys worshipping your body by giving you massages, kisses, and compliments. He also has a thin for seeing you in stockings. Whether thigh-highs or sheer tights, he loves them all if they’re on your legs. There’s something so appealing about fucking you with your legs on his shoulders and seeing them clad in stockings. If he gets frisky, Diluc is not above ripping your tights at the crotch to have better access to your pussy but will stop if you chastise him for it.

Diluc likes seeing you in fancy lingerie, the kind that has lace and frills. He thinks you look beautiful and sexy in it. Due to his affinity for your neck, he also enjoys seeing you wear chokers (not collars though). Additionally, Diluc likes to mark your skin in love bites in areas usually hidden by clothes, such as your chest, tummy, and thighs.

Aside from those kinks, Diluc is also intrigued by food and temperature play due to his love for sensuality. With food play, he likes the idea of decorating your body with fruits or drizzling chocolate or whipped cream on it and licking it off. For temperature play, he enjoys blindfolding you and keeps it vanilla and goes for safe options like ice cubes, sex toys, and his mouth and hands (his body temperature is higher than average due to his vision). If you’re interested, he’ll also play around with textures such as running a feather or paintbrush along your erogenous zones or touching your bare skin with gloved hands.

He can also be convinced to try light bondage by tying you up with silk scarves or rope (specially treated to avoid rope burns), and he’ll be pleasantly surprised to discover he enjoys having you at his mercy. He prefers to be in control of such play since he’s more on the dominant side, but he’s open to having you do all of the above to him as well and will find it refreshing to change up the dynamic and be showered in your attention.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

The only places Diluc feels comfortable having sex are your shared bedroom, bathroom, and his office. He values privacy (even more so for an intimate matter like intercourse) but because his manor employs a lot of servants, the only real privacy the two of you have is in your bedroom and bathroom. If Diluc is not expecting visitors or if it’s late at night, he will also fuck you on his office desk, though only once he’s certain the door is locked. His greatest preference is the bedroom, though, because it’s private and has the comfort of your large and extravagant bed.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

There are a number of things you can do to turn Diluc on, whether intentional or not. Dressing up in frilly lingerie, making a few tasteful innuendos, and pampering him with a sensual massage or a romantic bath can all get him in the mood.

Other things that get him going is seeing your curves. Whether display your ass by bending over to innocently pick up a thing you dropped, thereby reminding him of the spicy night before, or hug him from behind and press your boobs against his back—both things work to ignite his imagination and libido. Diluc refrains from acting on his urges because he’s a gentleman, but if you tease him like this enough throughout the day, he will seduce you into bed by nightfall.

Whether you turn him on intentionally or not, you’re the only one who has the power to stoke his lust. As his partner, you have the privilege of making Diluc yearn for you in a way nobody else can.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Diluc refuses to hurt you. The most he’s willing to do is give you light spanks, but otherwise don’t expect him to be rough towards you. He is also against degrading or humiliating you as that is a turn-off for him. He only wants to treat you with love and tenderness, so such demeaning play is not his thing.

Master and servant play is also not his thing, mainly because he has real servants under his employ, so the appeal is lost on him. Plus, he would feel like he’s taking advantage of an employee, which doesn’t sit right with him. He’s also against sharing you with anyone or engaging in exhibitionism.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Diluc is naturally a giving lover, so he prefers giving oral over receiving, though he greatly enjoys both. He loves to hold your hips down while burying his face between your thighs, lapping away at your folds, and attentively listening to every sound of pleasure you make in response. He uses auditory cues to determine what you like best, like which flick of the tongue causes you to buck against his face or which pressure makes you moan the loudest when sucking your clit.

In terms of receiving oral, Diluc will rarely say no, though if given the choice, he would much rather sheathe his cock in your pussy. Don’t get him wrong—he loves the oral you give. He finds it incredibly hot to see you on your knees with his dick in your mouth, and he comes quicker than he cares to admit when he feels the eager way in which you suck him off. There’s just something special about joining his body with yours and pleasing you that he can’t get enough of. Forgive him, he simply loves being intimate and making you feel good.

When you give him blowjobs, Diluc tends to gather hair out of your face so it doesn’t get in your way, or tenderly pets your head while praising your oral skills. Things such as “You’re taking me so well, good girl” or “Your mouth feels incredible around me. Can you take it a bit deeper?” or even “You look so beautiful like this” are a staple when you give him oral.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Diluc usually maintains a slow and steady pace, keeping your comfort in mind. He rarely engages in rough sex because he doesn’t want to accidentally hurt you, plus it detracts from the romance and intimacy of the experience, so he doesn’t enjoy it as much. He likes to take his time to experiment with different angles and depths, finding all the sweet spots that make you writhe in pleasure, and then zero in on them with firm and precise thrusts.

That said, if you get him worked up enough, Diluc will be less gentle and more selfish with his thrusts. His hips will snap to yours at a quicker and slightly rougher pace while pulling you into each thrust by your hips. These kinds of sessions will leave you a little sore afterward, and as an apology, Diluc will pamper you during aftercare, give you a massage, and carry you wherever you need until you feel stable enough to walk on your own.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Diluc is not a fan of quickies. As mentioned previously, he likes to take his time with sex, setting the mood and engaging in plenty of foreplay before diving into the good stuff.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Diluc is cautious regarding kinks, so he won’t suggest or do anything outlandish. He does enjoy experimenting in bed and will suggest things like food or temperature play, light bondage, and new positions you two haven’t tried yet. As long as it’s not something from the No section, he’s willing to discuss any new kink you want to introduce into your sex lives and will make preparations to realize it if it’s something you really want to try.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Diluc’s stamina is higher than average despite being a nobleman. He trained a lot back when he was a knight of Favonius and kept up his training when he began his nighttime vigilante activities, so he’s fit.

In bed, he can last for quite a while. If he really pushed himself to the limit, he could last for 5 rounds (with breaks), but on average, he goes anywhere from 1-3, depending on how much time he has and what you’re in the mood for. The amount of rounds you guys go for usually depends on you.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Diluc doesn’t own any toys and is unlikely to bring any into the bedroom himself. At most, he can bring silk scarves and rope, but things like spanking paddles, ball gags, and handcuffs get a no from him. If you want to try using toys on yourself or him, then he is open to experimenting, though he still prefers to have foreplay and sex without them.

He has no issues with you using dildos or vibrators to get off when he’s unavailable, but he will be upset if you use toys instead of going to him when the opportunity is there. It will make him think he’s not pleasing you enough if you’re resorting to sex toys instead of coming to him.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

As a rule, Diluc is often sweet and tender with you, wanting nothing more than to see you happy. That, combined with his straightforward nature, results in him rarely teasing you in the bedroom. If he’s feeling playful, he might verbally tease you by saying you’re very eager for him or that you look cute in your fucked-out state, but that’s about the extent of it.

He rarely edges or overstimulates you because he enjoys pleasing you too much to be mean, but he can if you’ve been a brat to him. As much as he caters to all your needs, he is no doormat. If you act like a brat, he will be firm and tame you.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Diluc has good control of his voice and can keep it down even when engaging in passionate sex with you. Nevertheless, he does vocalize his pleasure even if he tries to muffle it. Diluc tends to bury his face into the crook of your neck and let out low grunts and quiet moans beside your ear, loud enough for you to hear.

He is also generous with praises and compliments. He says sweet things to you, such as how beautiful you are, how much you mean to him, how good you feel around him, etc… his praises are great for boosting your confidence in the bedroom.

Diluc loves the sound of your moans, but he is wary of being too loud and disturbing the servants. If you moan too loudly, he will muffle your voice by kissing you.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Unless you take the initiative to be sexually intimate, Diluc will wait until marriage to have sex, most likely your honeymoon. Regardless of the circumstance, your first time with Diluc will be slow and tender. He’ll discuss everything with you beforehand and get your full permission before initiating anything. If you change your mind at any point during the session and want to stop, Diluc will stop everything and check if you’re alright. Your comfort and enjoyment during your first time are his top priority, so he doesn’t want to force you into anything you don’t want to do.

If you don’t want to go all the way yet, Diluc is content to explore each other’s bodies whether through oral sex or heavy petting. If you don’t want to have sex, that’s also fine. Diluc will be happy to cuddle with you. It ultimately depends on what you’re comfortable doing because Diluc will match you, no matter what you decide to do.

If you do go through with sex, Diluc will take everything nice and slow, giving both you and him ample time to explore and get used to new sensations. He’ll kiss you lots and give lots of reassurance that you’re doing wonderful, you’re beautiful, and it’s ok to stop at any time. Even though he spends the entire time catering to your needs, Diluc will be very happy that you want to take your intimacy to this level. Exploring these new sides of each other and bringing one another pleasure deepens your bond further, or so he thinks.

As a side note, I also think Diluc fantasizes about starting a family with you. Whether you want children or not is optional, but he hopes to make you his wife and live out the rest of his days with you by his side. Ever since his father passed away and Kaeya left the manor, he was left with the phantom of a family in the face of his oldest servants. However, he doesn’t feel as lonely with you, and it makes him recall what having a family felt like.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

12.5cm (4.9 inches) in length and 11cm (4.3 inches) in girth. His cock has several prominent veins running along the shaft (he loves it when you lick them), and a dark red tip.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Diluc’s sex drive is average, but due to how busy he is, he doesn’t have as much time to indulge in lovemaking as he’d like. Generally, he aims for 1-2 times per week, but if one of you is too busy or tired to have sex, he has no problem waiting until you’re both in the mood.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Since he has a lot of stamina and is generally a night owl, Diluc doesn’t fall asleep quickly after lovemaking. He helps clean up and then stays awake and cuddles with you until you fall asleep. If he has nothing else to take care of that night, he’ll keep one arm around you and follow you into dreamland. However, if he has a lot of paperwork or a planned excursion to patrol Mondstadt city, then he will reluctantly leave your side and quietly go about his business. He always makes sure to return to you by dawn so you would wake up beside him.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #diluc x reader #diluc x fem!reader #diluc x reader smut #diluc ragnivindr x reader

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