#dark gray tile fireplace

[twispicalstephen]

Atlanta Bedroom

Ideas for remodeling a medium-sized contemporary master bedroom with gray walls, a standard fireplace, and a tile fireplace

[theyeartochange]

Atlanta Bedroom Ideas for remodeling a medium-sized contemporary master bedroom with gray walls, a standard fireplace, and a tile fireplace

[ohitschampoy]

Family Room in Chicago Mid-sized transitional open concept dark wood floor and brown floor family room photo with gray walls, a standard fireplace, a wall-mounted tv and a tile fireplace

[glennkotche]

Denver Family Room Example of a small, contemporary, enclosed family room with gray walls, a ribbon fireplace, a tile fireplace, and a wall-mounted television.

[cumbersir]

Family Room - Enclosed

Example of a small, contemporary, enclosed family room with gray walls, a ribbon fireplace, a tile fireplace, and a wall-mounted television.

[efthemia]

Living Room - Formal Inspiration for a sizable, contemporary, formal, and open-concept living room remodel with gray walls, a ribbon fireplace, a tile fireplace, and no television.

[swashbucklerswan]

Medium Sun Room Inspiration for a medium-sized slate-floor sunroom renovation with a regular ceiling and no fireplace

[twinmagics]

Open Living Room in Minneapolis Mid-sized Scandinavian open concept living room with a medium tone wood floor, white walls, a wood stove, a tile fireplace, and a television stand.

[aprilcarstairs]

Omaha Open Living Room

[zetragildcosplay]

Home Bar Living Room in Denver

[clarysjace]

Transitional Basement (Minneapolis)

[rotthepoet]

Come Home (Dark!Mattheo Riddle x Reader)

Notes; DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. Dark!Matty has been plaguing my mind and I need an outlet omg. I lowkey rewrote some lore for this, so essentially the battle of Hogwarts takes place but Voldemort's influence still lives on through Mattheo, who basically runs the new Knights of Walpurgis(The slytherin boys). Everyone is evil, all good business. 

Warnings; again, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. Dark!Mattheo, Murder/death/gore, stalking, kidnapping, mattheo might highkey be ooc but its fine, dubcon(reader REALLY wants him but like.. morals?), oral(F! And M!), mention of fem masturbation, predator/prey dynamic, spitting, degradation, lowkey breeding kink?, piv, lowkey porn with plot, Stockholm syndrome if you squint, at least he kinda gets a redemption arc

This one goes out to my beautiful @nottswitch i hope dark!mattheo comes to life and fucks us both <3

Word count; 6.3k

ﾟ+*:ꔫ:*﹤

The bitter breeze in the frigid air pricks through my thin shirt as the diner door swings open and shut again as a customer disappears into the icky black of our winter night. I stare out after him, a farewell unspoken on my lips as I cast my gaze towards an orange, flickering lamp post lining the parallel street, and I realize how truly cold it is inside the shabby eatery. 

As I tug the embarrassingly short, mandated skirt I'm forced to wear, I can only think of the comforting and safe walls of Hogwarts, my home only months ago, yearning for the soft crackle of a fireplace and the ambient chatter of portraits lining the walls. The muggles had nothing as interesting, nothing as familiar as the light of the silver moon passing through the large windows of the great hall. Nothing as comfortable as my own home back in England, with my mother and fathers smiling faces. Nothing as comfortable as the safe, unscarred arms of the once-kind boy I loved what feels like so long ago. 

Being on the lam for about a month now, I've been skipping towns and laying low where I can. It’s not often, but when I'm able to stay in a town for longer than a week, I take pitiful muggle jobs, my current being to take orders at a local diner, “famous for their milkshakes”, although fame must mean four regular visitors in this nowhere town. 

Jean, the gray-haired woman who owns the diner I work at, leans over the counter and points at the analog clock hanging on the wall. It reads almost 1:30, and it finally sets in how tired I am. She hums and looks me up and down, standing in the middle of the floor, standing stiff as a board while holding a broom. She clicks her tongue and shakes her head, a small smile gracing her aged face. 

“I’m sorry, I zoned out.” I apologize, leaning the non-flying broom against a nearby booth, and smooth out my wind-swept hair. 

Jean just shakes her head, “Go on and head home. You did good today.” she hums in approvement, tossing me my room key that was previously hanging on a hook in the kitchen. “Be careful out there, the papers said another storm is coming.” she warned, but a storm is the furthest thing from my mind as I push open the door. Silver light flashes across the street and my heart nearly stops beating, a pit forms in the bottom of my stomach. My eyes squint, finally adjusting to the lack of light, catch the face of a mannequin in the window of a shop. I let out a breath I don’t realize I’m holding and relax as I realize the moon had simply caught the silver details on the faux person. I turn on my heel and carry on down the dimly lit pavement towards my motel. 

It’s just as run down as everything else in this town, water stains stretching across the ceiling like swatches of muddy paint, and the hideous carpet crunches underneath my feet. It isn’t much. It is nothing, in fact, but a roof over my head and sanctuary from the ruthless dangers outside. 

I drop each article of clothing from my body onto the yellowing tile of the bathroom floor, stepping into the freezing cold water of the shower. I shudder, goosebumps racking through my body as I allow the water to wash away the grease and sweat, I collected today. I run a baby blue loofa over my skin, suds washing away with the now lukewarm stream. I close my eyes, and take a deep breath, and the smell of metallic rust from the old pipes fills my nostrils. 

Blood. So much blood. It covers my hands, and my knees, my face, and my clothes. I practically wade through a pool of it, the dark hallways of that god awful manor stretch on infinitely, and the smell of rot and decay suffocates my senses. My heart nearly beats out of my chest as his strong arms wrap around me as I collapse to the floor, and I'm hyper aware of the many motionless bodies lying at my feet. His lips brush against my neck, rough and wet, and I wonder if they have blood on them too. I wouldn’t put it past him. Malicious is not a word I thought I would ever use to describe my lover, the man I thought I was going to marry one day, but like many other things before, he proved me wrong. His warm hands caress the soft fat of my thighs, slipping underneath the loose fabric of my shorts, and he leans into my ear. “They’re all gone now… Let’s go take a shower.” 

I release a shaky breath and turn off the water, letting it drip from my head and down my face, mingling with salty tears. Wiping my face with my wet palms, which did nothing in retrospect, I sigh. I can’t go back there; I can never go back there. It isn’t safe anymore. He isn’t safe anymore. Come on, I can’t keep feeling bad for myself. This is ridiculous, and as I step out of the shower and dress myself, I feel a newfound sense of determination. Sleep, for the first time in months, finds me easily with her warm embrace. 

ﾟ+*:ꔫ:*﹤

As most things in my life do, my high spirits came to an abrupt end. Smoke fills my lungs, but there's a strange taste to it. It’s not a fire, no, it was tobacco. A smell I was all too familiar with. I sat up in bed, and my eyes met the inky black eyes of his silver, skull mask. My breath catches in my throat, only for me to cough out the smoke from his cigarette.

He couldn’t have found me this easily. It’s a bad dream, it has to be. Merlin forgive me, God save me, tell me this is just a dream! The mask on his face shifts a little, clearly amused at my coughing fit. “Have anything to say?”

Say anything. Stop gaping at him like a fish, you are a powerful witch, almost top of your class in DADA. Almost. Second place, notably. Right behind him.

Mattheo Riddle.

A sob racks through my body, tears falling down my cheeks before I even realize, and I’m paralyzed in place. Half of me wants to crawl into his arms, to beg for forgiveness, to beg for him to take me home. Home to that wretched, dark house, with blood seeped into the wood. With blood-stained grout on the kitchen tile. With blood-stained walls. So, so much blood. The other half of me screams at me to run. To run, to run, run, run, RUN! For god's sake, run! 

I push myself out of bed, fast enough to catch Mattheo by surprise. He flicks his cigarette to the side, letting it roll along the carpet floor. My hand reaches for my wand resting on a table beside the door as I duck out of his reaching arms, and I stumble to my feet as he lunges after me. I throw open the door, pulling it shut in his face as he screams for me.

“You bitch! Come back here!” he screams through the wood, struggling with the now sweat-slick doorknob. 

The door splinters open with the blast of, “Bombarda!”, but I scramble down the wet, cold streets, my bare feet scratch against the rough pavement as I sprint, thankful that it had been just warm enough to not freeze. I duck down another street, pulling out my wand to apparate elsewhere. I rack my brain for a safe location. Hogwarts? I might be able to, but I don’t want to risk splinching. My job? It might separate me long enough to get my shit together. 

Air is knocked out of me as a heavy body slams into mine, knocking my wand out of my hand. A heavy, black boot pins my wrist to the ground, and a silver mask that was not Riddle’s leans over me. He laughs under the mask, but I can’t tell which of his mentally fucked goons had caught me. I reach for my wand, but another set of boots kicks it out of my reach. Leather gloved hands grab my hair and lift me up to face the group now circling me. 

“She looks pitiful, really. Like an angry kitten.” An Italian accent draws next to my ear with a mocking snicker, and I thrash to kick Theodore Nott anywhere I can, luckily landing a solid blow to his shin. He curses in pain, and hisses something inaudible underneath his mask as he throws me back to the ground. The rough concrete scratches against my exposed skin, drawing blood from the soft flesh. I yelp in pain, landing at the feet of someone else. A black, steel-toed boot presses against my cheek, pushing my head to the side as I watch another figure ominously approach. I would recognize my Mattheo’s casual amble anywhere, and he peered down at my stray wand laying at his feet.

I don’t even have time to protest as he steps his boot onto the wood, sparks fizzing out around the magic object as it snaps under his weight. A choked sob escapes me as he approaches, my eyes wide with horror and betrayal.

“Enough of this, love. It’s time to come home,” He drawls, kneeling down to my level and lifting my chin to meet his empty gaze. “Be a good girl and come back to me, I’m tired of this little game of yours.”

“Fuck. You.” I spat on the silver of his skull-like mask, noting the wild look in my own eyes as the saliva slips down its reflective surface.

Mattheo groaned and tugged off his mask, and my breath caught in my throat. What the hell is wrong with me? I can’t think this awful man who betrayed me, threatened me, hunted me down, can still be attractive. Then again, he was still the man I had loved–part of me still does love– all those years ago. The handsome face I fell asleep looking at, the doe eyes I found comfort in. He looked roguish now, his brown curls were longer than the last time I had seen him, and he had a new scar running across his cheek from our last encounter. My mouth goes dry as he leans into my face, his breath hot against my lips. 

“I’ve missed you, love,” He practically purred, pressing his dry lips against my trembling ones. I whine against him, wriggling my body underneath the heavy weight of whoever was holding me. 

Mattheo groaned, gripping my chin harder, “You used to be so obedient, pet, but don’t worry. I’ll fix you.” he mumbled, kissing my forehead as I felt his wand pressed to my temple. He mumbled an incantation against my skin, and I felt my body go limp before my eyes closed themselves, and sleep consumed me. 

ﾟ+*:ꔫ:*﹤

It was cold, damp, and reeked of copper and mold. My body laid on the floor, sore and unresponsive to my will to move. As my senses came back to me, I tried climbing to my feet, but a chain tugged my ankle back to the floor. I tumbled to the stone floor, scraping my hands against its rough surface. I whimper in pain, and only as I go to wipe my hands on my pants do I realize I’m completely nude. Horror racks through my body as I take in my surrounding and own appearance. I know I'm back in that old house, that old, disgusting, horrible house of horrors, and tears fall from my stinging eyes again.

I don’t know how long I laid on that floor, shaking from the cold as I sob into the air, screaming and cursing with conviction, damning Riddle’s name to an eternity in hell. I scream, and wail, and cry until I tire myself out, my voice breaking into nothing but a hushed plea for freedom. 

I fight sleep, sitting myself against a wall near my chain, breathing deep into my burning lungs. My eyes drift closed, but I will them open as the loud creak of a door alerts me. It’s only then that I notice a stairwell, casted in a white light with the newly opened door, and my heart nervously skips a beat as a tall shadow approaches the stairwell. The stairs creak under his weight as he descends to what I can only infer is a basement, and I stare up at his form.

Mattheo wasn’t nearly as scary like this, dressed in black slacks and a loose white shirt. Had he not been so threatening, and the reason I was chained to the basement floor, I would have swooned over the top buttons being undone. Perhaps I still do get butterflies in my stomach, but that may just be nausea. 

He looks down at me with an expression I can only describe as mock sympathy, clicking his tongue softly. “Down here for less than three hours and you’ve already managed to hurt yourself,” he scolded me, shaking his head in disappointment, “My clumsy girl, what am I going to do with you?” 

The smile he cracked made me want to claw his eyes out, or kiss him, and I worry that he may have slipped me a love potion. My ears ring, and my head suddenly aches with a mild pain, and Mattheo smirks.

“Like the shirt, do you?” He teased, kneeling down to my level. I curse under my breath, face heating up with anger (Or embarrassment, I can’t really tell), of course I forget he’s a legilimens. “Drop the act darling, I know you’re going to crack eventually. Save us both the trouble so I can finally bring you back to bed.” His warm hand tenderly caressed my cold cheek, and I fought the urge to lean into the comforting touch. “I hate seeing you down here like this, but you need to remember your place.”

My eyes snap back to his, and I whip my head to the side to bite his hand. He scowls and rips his hand away, reeling it back and back-handing me across the face. It knocks my breath out of my chest, and the rings on his fingers cut my cheek. Metallic blood drips to the floor. 

“Fine. Stay down here and bleed out for all I care.” He snaps, rubbing his sore hand as he turns on his heel and storms up the stairs. The door slams loudly behind him, and I’m engulfed in sudden darkness.

ﾟ+*:ꔫ:*﹤

My cheek and hands had long stopped bleeding the next time he came back, staining my skin red with its slick. My head lifts as the door opens again, and light makes my eyes dilate painfully. Mattheo trudges down the stairs, his head hanging low, and a small white box hanging from his hand. He approaches me and kneels at my level. I meet his gaze, glaring into his soft eyes.

“Darling, you know I didn’t mean to hit you, right?” He mumbled, holding my chin to twist my cheek towards him, his rough actions bringing tears to my eyes. “I was just so worked up, and you were pushing too many buttons, you’ll forgive me, right?” He asks hopefully, but I don’t answer him.

He sighs in defeat, opening the little box and retrieving a cloth and bottle full of a clear liquid. My eyes go wide, and I scramble backwards as far as the chain allows me to. “No, No, Mattheo please don’t-” I plead, heart racing as he looks at me with confusion.

A smile breaks across his face, “Oh darling, no, no, it’s just alcohol.” he laughs a bit, a deep sound that makes pleasant shivers run down my spine and too an embarrassing heat between my legs. What the fuck is wrong with me? He approaches me again, dousing the cloth with the solution before taking my hands. He shushes my soft whines as he presses it to my scraped palms, which makes me hiss at the burning sensation. “Good girl, there we go. That’s much better, isn’t it?” he asks as he takes a roll of gauze from the box and wraps each of my hands. He lifts my palms to his lips, pressing a storm of soft pecks and kisses to the gauze and skin. My face heats up at the gesture, and I force myself to look away. He was always so chivalrous for a monster, though it hurt to call him that even after everything.

He presses the cloth to my cheek next, his thumb tracing calming circles into the opposite cheek. “Such a pretty girl, my pretty girl.” He whispered, placing a bandage over my skin. Just like my palms, he kisses my cheek, though much slower and intimate this time. “I don’t want to hurt you, you know?” he promised, leaning over my trembling body. He looked down at me, eyes drifting past my collarbone, and he whistled softly. “A sight for sore eyes… and It’s all mine.” He smirked, leaning down as he supported his weight on his forearms. His chapped lips press suspiciously soft kisses to my neck. A loud thud coming from upstairs makes Mattheo groan and pull away. He looks down at me, wide eyed beneath him, “I’ll be right back, love, don’t worry your pretty little head.” He hummed, patting my cheek as he stood up. 

He casts me one last yearning glance before he shuts the door again, much softer this time. I lean back against the stone, releasing a breath I didn’t know I was holding, and try to ignore the wetness between my thighs as I drift off to sleep.

ﾟ+*:ꔫ:*﹤

I’m startled awake as the basement door slams shut, and heavy footsteps descend to my prison. Mattheo storms into view, and before I can even get a word out, he grabs me by the hair and pulls me up to my knees. He sneers down at me, and my head is spinning from the sudden switch up.

“Incompetent assholes. Have to do everything myself around here,” He mumbled, not really speaking to me rather than himself. He doesn’t loosen his grip on my hair as his other hand tugs apart the button of his slacks. 

My eyes go wide with shock, and he pulls my hair, forcing my chin up to look at him. “Open your mouth,” He demands, his voice lacking his previous warmth, and I'm reminded that this is not my Matty. My lip quivers and I shake my head slightly. Mattheo pulls his half-hard cock from the confines of his black briefs and pulls me by the hair to his tip. “I don’t have time for this attitude, I said open your mouth.”

I don’t even have a moment to react before his leaking tip is pressed against my mouth. He pushes his way past, groaning as my wet lips engulf his mushroomed tip. He pulls on my hair again, forcing himself further into my warm hole. “There you go, not so hard, was it? Now suck.” He orders in a tone I’ve never heard him use in bed before, and as he bucks his hips towards my face, I whine in protest while the ache returns to my lower stomach. My jaw relaxes on its own, familiar with the girth of his hung cock. An almost inaudible whine slips through my throat, and he groans at the tightness. One more tug lets me know his patience is running thin, and I reach my bandaged hand up to stroke the rest of him while I focus on his tip.

Mattheo bites back a moan, his hips stuttering as I descend further down onto his length. His leaky tip presses against the back of my throat, and he holds my head in place while he rocks his hips further into me. My nose presses against his groin as he slips down the back of my throat, and his grip moves from my hair to my throat, feeling my neck bulge with every movement. Saliva drips past him and down my chin, dribbling to the floor in thick droplets. He shudders as my throat tightens around him, nearly swallowing the head. 

“Yeah, yeah… Fuck baby. Keep going for me, almost there,” He mumbles, rocking his hips faster than before. I whine around him, my own hand slipping down to the ache at my core. My fingers gingerly brush against my clit, and the soft moan I try to let out makes Mattheo’s head roll back. Hot spurts of his seed shoot down my throat and my glossy eyes go wide at the feeling.

“Swallow,” Is all he says, and obediently, I do. He pulls my head off of him, his cum mixing with the drool in my mouth when it drips down my chin. He grips my face between his index finger and thumb, collecting the mess with a swipe of his finger and pushing it back into my sore mouth. “All of it.” 

When I satisfied him, he pushed me back to the ground, and I yelped in pain as I collided against the stone surface. “When I come down here, I want you on your knees waiting for my dick. Understand?”

I nod weakly, and he smirks down at me. “Good girl. Keep it up and maybe I’ll bring you back upstairs.” He says, before pulling back up his pants and running a hand through his hair. 

When he leaves again, I’m left with an unbearable, wet mess.

ﾟ+*:ꔫ:*﹤

With nothing else to do in my makeshift prison, I sleep a lot. And when I wake up, I force myself to sleep again. I sleep God knows how long before the door opens again, and Mattheo trudges down the stairs. I scramble to my knees, honestly fearing what might happen if I disobey him, and when Mattheo catches sight of me, he smiles. 

“There’s my pretty girl.” He hums, holding a platter with a bowl of something steaming, a slice of some sort of bread, and a bottle of water. My stomach growls as its divine aroma fills my senses, and I can’t remember the last time I’ve eaten. 

Mattheo sits down in front of me and puts the tray between up. He rests his elbow on his knee and leans into his palm. “Eat,” he orders me, gesturing to the platter with the wave of his free hand. “Or would you prefer I feed you myself?” He asks with a smirk, watching how I shift from my knees to rest on my hip. I grab the water bottle first, chugging half of it in one go, before I subconsciously offer him a sip. What’s mine is his. Was his. Was. I look up at him, taking the water and sipping from it. I tore my gaze away before he noticed.

“I don’t want to stay in the basement anymore,” I mumble, dipping the bread into the soup before taking a bite, shivering at its deliciousness. Mattheo sighed and shook his head. “You know I can’t do that yet. You ran away, darling. I can’t trust you won’t do that again,” He explained, reaching his hand across the way to rub my knee soothingly. I sigh and push the tray away, my appetite gone. Mattheo frowned and moved the tray away, leaning over me. “Princess, c’mon, don’t be this way.” he hummed, pushing me onto my back. My heart rate quickened, and he definitely noticed. “But you’re right. I’ve been neglecting you… That’s why you ran away right? My poor girl was lonely and scared.” he hummed, pressing his lips to my collar bone. “Not anymore. My attention is solely on you, I promise.” 

My head rolled back a little, lolling onto the floor as he trailed his kisses down my sternum, stopping at my breasts to gently knead them. Butterflies fluttered in my stomach as I reached for his hair, tugging gently on his loose curls. He groaned in response, his lips finding my perked nipple and taking it into his warm mouth. His other hand slipped down my soft stomach, dipping between my thighs. Out of reflex, I squeezed them together, and Mattheo parted from my tit. He sat back on his haunches, using his strong, scarred hands to pull apart my thighs and admire my glistening, needy cunt.

“It’s been all about me, huh? Need to show my girls some love.” He mumbled, before dipping his head down. His warm breath fanned across my puffy lips, and I shivered at the breeze. He didn’t waste a second more, drawing a long, needy moan from my lips as he licked a long strip from my hole to my clit. My hands tangle into his hair again, and my mouth falls open with pleasure. “Fuck, Matty–” the nickname fell from my lips without a second thought, and he practically purrs against me. His hands grip my thighs, pulling them over his shoulders as he dives nose deep into my pussy. My back arches off the floor as a string of curses flies from my lips. I feel his wet appendage push against my hole, and I clench at the feeling as his nose brushes against my sensitive bud. I tug on his hair again, “Fuck, Fuck, Fuck!” I mewl, my edge fast approaching as Mattheo swirls his tongue over my clit. He sloppily makes out with my lower lips, pulling me closer to the edge with each passing second, and I’m in near tears when there's a loud crash up above us. 

Mattheo practically roars in anger, pulling his soaked face away from my aching cunt, the knot in my stomach loosening at the sudden separation. I whine and sit up, trying to pull him back down, but he stops me with a firm hold on my wrist. “Stay here and don’t make a sound.” he ordered, “I need to take care of this, and I promise as soon as I’m done, I’ll come right back.”

Anger flashes through me, and I bite back my cries. “Don’t you dare leave me like this, Riddle.” I snap, and he gives me a warning look that makes goosebumps prick at my skin. He leans in, pressing a wet kiss to my lips, and I can feel him shiver as I lick my own arousal from his lips. “I’ll be right back, princess. Be good for me, and we can talk about a reward.”

And with that, he left yet again.

ﾟ+*:ꔫ:*﹤

I was starting to get sick of his mind games, switching up his attitude, finally giving me relief before ripping it away from me. Fuck. What am I saying? I watched him murder dozens of people; I watched lives being taken right in front of me. I shiver at the memory and try to focus on anything else before it becomes too much to bear. 

I hate how he makes me feel. Sometimes he’s my Mattheo, and sometimes he’s nothing but a parasite attached to a face I can’t help but love. My back hits a wall, and I can’t count how long he’s been gone. I miss his warm, familiar touch, but anything was better than the cold, dark basement. I close my eyes, my lip trembling as I reach my hand down, fingers hesitantly spreading my folds. Cold air hit my wet lips, and I gasp at the feeling. I brush my fingertips against my hole, whining softly at the pleasure that coursed through my body. Maybe I'm sick in the head, maybe I hit my head too hard one day on the run and never recovered. Maybe I never really hated Mattheo. 

What is wrong with me?

I don’t move when the door opens again. I glare at him, anger coursing through my veins. This was not ‘right back’. As Mattheo’s black boot lands on the stone floor, my mouth goes dry. He’s weaning that stupid mask again, and that stupid costume, tilting his head stupidly at me. He approaches me in a way that makes my heart race in fear, like I'm nothing but cowardly prey between the jaws of a large wolf. 

He knees down, retrieving his hand from his pocket. Wordlessly, he unlocks the chain around my ankle, and he looks up at me. With another wave of his wand, I’m dressed in a loose tank top and shorts. It’s not much at all, but it’s better than naked. A rush of emotions rushes through my chest, and I almost gratefully throw my arms around Mattheo, but he stops me. 

“Go. Run,” He orders, stepping aside. I stare up at him in confusion, mounted to my spot on the ground. “I said run, little pet, like you want to.” He pulls me from the ground, pressing my cold body up against his comforting warmth. “Run, and if I catch you,” he leaned down into my ear, and through the skull mouth of his mask I could feel his breath fanning across my ear. “Well, I think you know what’s going to happen.”

I still don’t move, wondering if he would be less harsh if I stayed with him, but he only laughed. “Such a good girl, don’t worry,” he pulled his mask up just enough to expose his pearly white teeth. They sunk into the soft flesh just beneath my ear, “I’ll always find you. Go, now.”

I don’t know what possessed me, but my feet started moving on their own. I raced up the stairs of the basement and pushed past the door. The house was just as I remembered, dark with walls that were too tall, black cloths hung over the complaining portraits. I was disoriented in the dark, but my feet carried me through the house until I found the overtly large entrance. I pushed open the doors and ran out into the cold, snowy night. 

Frost nipped at each of my limps, and my lungs found it harder to breathe the frigid air. I ran anyway, out towards the woods surrounding the manor. I cast a glance over my shoulder, finding Mattheo staring back at me through the blacked-out eyes of his mask. I ducked into the tree line, just as he started his casual stroll towards me. Cocky bastard. 

I run for as long as I can before my lungs give out. I leaned against a tree, walking slowly into a clearing. I take a deep breath, pulling my arms behind my head to breathe deeper. Just as I find a moment of peace, a branch snaps behind me. I whip my head around, my heart racing as Mattheo approaches me. He doesn’t run, only walks towards me with his hands stuffed into his pockets. He ditched that awful mask, and I can see the smirk pulling at the edge of his lips. I stumble backwards, falling into the fresh snow. He continues his pace, unbothered by my racing heart as I scramble away from him and finally back to my feet. I don’t get one leg in front of the other before strong arms are wrapped around my waist, slipping under the loose fabric of my shirt.

“I win,” He mumbles in my ear, voice dark and raspy. It sends a chill down my spine that pools in my underwear. 

Mattheo throws me over his shoulder, ignoring my flailing lips as he walks back to the manor. “Didn’t even get a mile, love. Lost your talent it seems, or maybe you knew you’d miss me too much.” he teased, running his warm hands up my thigh, pressing a kiss to my exposed skin. 

It isn’t long before we’re back at the manor, and I thank every god I'm in good ties with when he walks past the basement. He takes me to his room instead, our room, the room where I've fallen apart under his touch more times than I can count. 

I breathe in his familiar scent as he deposits me on the bed, and I roll over to bury my burning face in the pillows. Mattheo chuckles at me and grabs my hips, pulling me back against him as he grinds his hardening bulge against the plushness of my ass. 

“You’ve been extra obedient, haven’t you?” he asked, his voice dripping with a tone I could quite place. Lust? Possession? Love? It all blurred together as he rutted his hips against me. “Good girls deserve a reward, don’t they?” he asked, before hooking his fingers at the hem of my shorts. He pulled them down to expose my glistening cunt. He spread me out along his fingers, admiring the way my pussy pulsed around nothing. He leaned in, pressing a possessive kiss to my clit, holding my hips as I try to buck away from him. 

His warm fingers trace along my thighs, sleeping between my legs and collecting the arousal that pooled there. I release a shaky breath into the pillow as his finger circles my clit, and I arch my back to present myself further. He hums in appreciation, trailing his finger further up to my dripping hole, slowly pushing his middle finger inside of me. I gasp at the intrusion, not being able to remember the last time something so long had been inside of me. I keen under his touch, gripping the sheets for stability as he slowly pumps his finger in and out of me. A moan escapes me as he curls his finger, and his thumb brushes against my needy pearl again. Mattheo adds a second finger, spreading out my tight, gummy walls. I crumble under his touch, mouth falling open and eyes going half lidded as he pulls his fingers from me. 

I hear him dropping his pants, and the bed dips behind me yet again as he leans his body completely over mine. His arm wraps around my neck, pressing me close to his chest while his breath fans across my face. The tip of his cock presses against me, and I whine at the sensation, pushing my hips back against him.

“Needy girl, thought you didn’t need me anymore.” He teased, pushing just the bulbous tip into my hole. It’s enough to make the knot in my stomach tighten, and I shake my head. “Need you, Matty, Need you so bad.” I admit, face flushed with embarrassment as he smirks. “Gonna run away again?”

He doesn’t let me get an answer out before he’s pressing further inside of me, the stretch burning pleasantly while my eyes roll back. His arm around my throat tightens, “I asked you a question, darling.” He teased, licking away the stray tear that fell from my eyes. I gasp as his cock brushes against a gummy bundle of nerves, and my head drops to the pillows. He tugs me back against him, pushing even further until he balls slapped against me. “No! No, never gonna leave again,” I promised, involuntary whines spilling from my throat. 

Mattheo pulls his hips back before drilling them back into me, “Good girl,” He grins as he sets a punishing pace, watching my face contort into pleasure underneath him. “Who owns you?” he asks, and I push back against his hips desperately. “You! You do, God, you do!” I moan, feeling my head go light from the lack of airflow. 

“God isn’t here, Love, It’s just me now.”

He drills into my pulsating hole, my back arching at his every thrust as my brain goes mushy from the pleasure. The arm around my throat pulls away, slipping down my stomach to find my pearl. His fingers are just as fast as his pace, and I can’t fight back the whorish moans in my throat. His lips attach to my shoulder, biting a possessive mark into my skin as he fucks me good, better than he ever had before. 

Tears fall from my eyes, and my hand grips his desperately as I’m worked to my edge. “Matty, Matty please…” I trail off into a string of moans, and Mattheo adjusts himself behind me. He bucks his hips into me once more, and I fall apart all over him. My pussy flutters around his cock, and he rides out my orgasm with a few last thrusts of his hips, before he spills his hot seed deep into my womb. Mattheo collapses on top of me, still deep inside as he pins my body to the bed. He hums into my neck, burying himself in my skin. 

“That’s my good girl. Let’s go take a shower.”

[hometoursandotherstuff]

This 1905 home sold in Sioux City, IA, but I love it so much and I'm not surprised that it sold fast b/c the 6bd, 5ba, 5,427 sq ft home was only $374,999, but it was listed for $499,999, so the buyers got a deal.

The historical home was remodeled, but I don't mind it, b/c it's Dark Academia, and you don't see it that much. Isn't this an attractive sitting room?

Simple, beautiful dining room.

They've got a little bar in the hall, and look at the unique little rounded door.

Elegant kitchen remodel. I love the floor, the gold hardware, and the ceiling.

There's an original stone wall that they painted white.

And such a pretty built-in hutch.

And, here's a lovely desk. I was thinking that if you were into polymer clay, this would be the perfect craft area b/c of the little oven.

This is beautiful. Look at the moldings and the colors of the mural that give it the perfect moody look.

Beautifully rounded walls with a built-in are original architectural details.

The soft gray hall doors with gold accents are so pretty.

The home has such lovely children's rooms.

They're all so cute.

This home is great for a big family.

Look at this one with the fireplace and shelving.

This colorfully restored bath looks Art Deco.

This must've been where the original tub was.

Isn't the primary bedroom gorgeous?

Looks like a bath that was remodeled in the midcentury modern era.

An enclosed porch. Very nice.

The finished attic has a secret room.

Look at the huge bath up here.

An art studio. Isn't this amazing? I can't believe the price they paid for this home.

Tile floored porch wraps around the house.

Plus, there's a new deck.

Large fenced in yard, plus a carriage house. 0.4 acre lot.

https://www.captivatinghouses.com/2024/05/28/1905-historic-house-for-sale-in-sioux-city-iowa/

[squiddy-god]

⚜︎⪻My Beast⊰♥︎⊱My Rose⪼⚜︎

⊰An Instant Before A Gaze⊱

⊰Yandere beauty!Argenti x beast!reader⊱

⊰Previous||masterlist||next⊱

Potential part one??? This is based off of a little prompt i saw here<3 So I decided to write this for Argenti because the brain rot is so real for him.im so in love with him augh~ I love men who are so hopelessly in love that it drives them crazy. 

Request are open don't be shy Cw : knight/beauty Argenti, beast reader, mentions of discrimination, depictions of violence, yandere themes, yandere Argenti, obsession, reader is cursed, imprisonment, reverse kidnapping?? Argenti will NOT leave,he's kinda delusional, insecurity, slight body horror (will bold so you can skip), Argenti “i can fix them”  5.2k 

The sweet rays of the sun cast gossamer streams of light past the clouded lattice windows and illuminated fleeting slivers of the once opulent room. Far from its glory the space lay cold and torn asunder- no longer did it hold the warm laughter of its once noble occupant, but rather the cold emptiness of a long jaded heart. White silken curtains hanging limply from their rails, shredded and ragged, a once golden chandelier flakes its gilding having long since crashed to the tiled floor. Long jagged claw marks decorate the beautifully embroidered carpets, their once splendid depictions of scrolling and florals lost to the harsh sands of time, crumbling in the hands of a beast. The chairs and lounge are covered by the same white sheets, edges torn and falling slightly. A four poster bed sits on the right wall, opposite to the sitting area and long fizzled out fireplace, the velvet curtains are all but ripped off, draped across the floor like pools of deep wine, so desperately clinging to the wooden beams of the bed to stay on. Shadows cast the inside of the heavy curtains and soft bed, the only place seemingly spared the wrath. silk pillows and fine sheets, downy blankets piled to give some false hope at comfort. Despite their apparent disarray the red velvet curtains of the bed are not torn, simply tugged at with their golden cords long forgotten. 

The mirror on the vanity by the bed is shattered, its cruel glass shards reflecting in mocking defiance as the sun hits them, their edges speckled with a dark brown substance that now seemed to flake away. Somewhere above the fireplace is a portrait, its frame a gilded gold. Each brush stroke echos an angry mocking jeer, yet depicts the warm smile of a painfully human creature.

 Outside the castle is a beautiful sight, its deep carved stone once a shining white now weathered to a melancholy gray, yet it still held the same fairytale quality. Many towers and rooms, a striking circular building attached to the main castle with what seemed to be a glass ceiling, and behind it what seemed to be the same style but further back with smaller rooms to the side. A large sprawling garden surrounded the back of the castle, with verdant green hedges and many blooming flowers. Stained glass and latticed windows gave way to beautiful arches and delicate gothic architecture, sprawling vines climbed up the sides of the stone and made their home in the grooves of the structure so their flowers could bloom. Perhaps most striking was the tallest tower, a spire pointed defiantly at the sky as if to reach out and touch the clouds, for this is the room of the most beloved child of the once noble house. A room that now sits in dishevelment. 

Beyond the tall iron gates of the castle lay the forest, with its tall trees of emerald green that seem to thin out the further away from cursed place it goes. Deep under tree cover is a once well traveled path, its dirt road now being encroached by wandering plants and flora, wild flowers spring fourth in lush bundles of pink and golden hues. While the forest may seem a beaut sight, the closer one drifts towards the castle grounds, the more a sense of lamentation twists the land. The trees seemed to reach out with warped limbs, contorting, mangling into cruel hands. Unmaintained and forgetting the love they once knew, as a broken ballerina continues to spin forever on her music box, so will the trees and vines continue to grow. 

In the village there is a tale told as a bedtime story to sleepy children. 

Long ago there was once a noble family who lived in grandiosity, squandered wealth and cruel hearts. To them it seemed every being was a mere bug under their shoes, their servants were treated cruelly as if they were animals. But one day that changed, a blessed child had been born from amongst the bramble, with a tender and mellow heart they seemed to possess a noble spirit. For a time the cruelty continued from the family, but the young Liege spoke out and begged for their family to end the cruelty, and it began to ebb away like a receding tide. However this was only in the eyes of the young liege, for behind the intricately carved closed doors it only escalated. Soon the most beloved child of the noble house became the bearer of the burden, cruelty that lashed their mind and heart was given as freely as air. Yet their noble heart remained steadfast and endeared them to the servants of the house, the kindness that licked their wounds was given without any expectation. 

However one day in spring, the last cold wisps of wind giving way to bountiful flowers and warm sun, a party was held at the castle deep in the forest. An enchantress had heard of the family's cruelty and after hearing the tales became enraged and went to the castle to see for herself. She disguised herself as a poor beggar woman and rapped upon the doors seeking only solace from the cold April rains. They did not turn her away, no… instead they brought her inside all while laughing a malicious hollow laugh. They paraded her around as the sorry beggar women, mocking and jeering at her as if pushing her to the cold was simply too kind a jester. The young liege urged them to stop, protesting about how the display was sickening. All that they were met with was the glares of the family and a harsh slap for their audacity and disobedience. 

The display was enough for the enchantress to reveal herself, the eyes of the nobles went wide in shock and fear, left to cower like the animals they had treated people as. Before the enchantress could curse them however, the young liege stepped forward and pleaded for them to be spared, they were prepared to bare the burden of their cruelty if it meant they did not suffer while they paid for what they had done, for the young liege could not stomach the thought of others suffering. The sincerity of the young liege moved the enchantress and so she granted their wish. 

“My child, for your noble heart…i shall grant you your wish, tho it brings me no joy to do so” and so the curse was placed. Upon the noble family their curse was to meet a tragic end, yet their fate would not be cruel, it would be quick and merciful, they would continue to live for one year before meeting their end. whatever they did in that year would determine how they died. The cruelty of the curse was placed on the young liege, only 16 years of age. 

Their scream pierced the room, body morphing as their bones twisted and cracked, distorting with a defining crunch. Teeth fell out as if rotting from their head giving way to bloodied fangs and a gnarled muzzle. Tall and imposing they were a beast, a cruel and evil monster with no trace of what they had once been. Nails splitting the skin of their fingers and morphing into sharp claws and their cries become howls. Their spine snaps and mangles into something grotesque and resembling an amalgamation of animals. Their skin grew fur as they lay in a heap on the floor.

The guest began to flee in a rushed panic at the sight. Even their own family whomst they had taken this fate for fled. The fleeting stares of disgust seared like hot irons for even their family had forsaken them. For they were a monstrous and ugly sight, a cruel beast and evil monster that held none of the warmth of the young liege. But one day the beast will be slayed and the nightmare will end, and the knight who vanquishes that evil will be hailed a hero.  

All stories have hidden verses, tucked away within the yellowed pages of a book to never see the light of day or feel the warm touch of gentle fingers. In this story there exists such a verse written in ink at the end of the tale. It is scrawled hastily and has long been forgotten. 

“My poor weary child, it brings me no joy to see you suffer for the sake of those undeserving of your kindness…so I will grant you a reprieve from fate's cruel touch.” The beast looked up to the enchantress, their eyes still painfully human. “When you find someone who loves you as you are, and when you can love them intern, you shall be spared this cruel fate” a laughable mercy. True love tender kiss, the only amnesty for a being that has forgotten how to love…how to be loved. 

Warm light steeps the small cottage in a brilliant amber hue, the sheer curtains flutter in the gentle breeze let in from the open window. Their ruffled edges flutter as the sun as the tall man moves around the kitchen. Roses seem to saturate every corner of the cottage, blooming forth bursts of color that sit in stark contrast to the light stone walls. Strong oak beams and supports carry hanging planters with beautiful delicate flowers that seem to cascade over the baskets languidly, petals resembling the softness of newborn downy feathers bathe in pastel colors and mingle with the decor of the kitchen. Ceramic plates scrawled with delicate rose patterns as well as various mismatching cups, a large spear rests mounted to the wall its slender blade a deep crimson red, its intricate adornments resembling that of embracing vines and brambles, prickling and dangerous yet wrapped around the handle with the reverence of a tender lover. Pristine and unblemished, treated with the gentle caress of calloused hands, wiped clean after every battle, every beast slain and monster laid to rest. 

The visage of the man conveyed the warm breath of spring, his flowing locks the color of succulent strawberries with each strand a thread of fine silk that beheld its luster with dazzling passion, sprawling viridescent fields as vast the heavens yet intimate as secluded meadows where the sun's light dances through tree leaves onto swaying grass reflected in his soft eyes. The beautiful hues of jade and emerald swirled without trace of malice, wielding only the bladed edge of fervent veneration for every sight that graces him. The ruffled white blouse that draped over him hung loose to his broad shoulders with the front laced in a way that still exposed much of his chest, silvery scars and dark cicatrix of wounds long healed adorned his body as jewels adorn the finest accessories of noble lords and ladies. The tapestry of battle that was woven, etched onto his pale skin served as a testament to his passion and honor, the gentle but fleeting touch of a gentleman that wreathes effigy of a knight, yet this tapestry was never hidden, it remained in every syllable spoken from his soft lips and dripped into his every noble action.

Conceivably, within the vast and intimate depths of his eyes layed a burning pyre where his tender heart was set ablaze. The flames of longing that licked at the very core of his soul seemed to beckon him, honeyed words of desire that whispered in his ear calling him to the abyss where he would gladly drown if it meant an end to the ache he felt. Yes gladly he would walk past the brink of lucidity if it meant an oasis in this dessert where he could quest this unbearable thirst. What read as simple unrelenting passion was simply the smoldering coals begging for air. 

Awe…

Admiration…

Reverence…

Adoration… 

Devotion… 

Worship… 

Love. 

A deep chasm that only one could feel, the very substance he breathed until his lungs burned for oxygen- yet every breath was intoxicating. Deep inside it fed the hot coals and set them writhing to a blazing inferno of sickly sweet obsession. He did not suppress his obsession, his longing, his ache, for how could he betray his love? How could he disservice his love by quelling the desire that burned for them alone? His entirety yearned for his love with the vehemence of a starving dog, licking at the bones it's been fed yet wanting for more. Wanting for his nameless love. 

Sir Argenti, a man of beauty, a man of passion, a man of love. 

A soft smile played on his lip, the wisps of steam fanning against his sculpted face, the heavy set of his brow, his sultry lidded eyes and long burgundy lashes that brush against his cheeks when he closes his eyes and sighs in content letting the warm liquid invade his mouth, the sweet taste causing a delightful crinkle to form at the corner of his eyes. Today was a special day and the knight couldn't help but sigh in a dreamy fashion, his chest heaving with motion as he moved to rest his chin on his calloused palm. The cup soon sits empty and discarded by the sink as he changes into his armor, the stark white metal a beautiful backdrop for the accents of gold that lay polished amongst the crimson fabric that bears the noble embroidery of thorns. The clank of his boots echo happily as his gloved hand grips the shaft of the mighty spear, eyes gleaming with an air of determination. Sunlight cast a pleasant warmth on his features as he basked in the glow of such a beautiful morning, the sweet smell of his flowers fluttered in the air and he couldn't help the airy chuckle that left his lungs as he plucked a rose from its bush. Sweet Carmine petals that embraced each other in tight spirals before fanning out beautifully at the edges to give a full look. 

Clanking of silver boots against well trodden cobblestone paths echoed in the meryment of the small town, bakers set fresh loaves of bread and sweet cakes out with their steem wafting into the breeze, children ran and giggled merrily in the street kicking a ball, people wave and greet him, his trademark locks of ruby pour over his back and stop at his waist as he walks. 

“Ah good morning sir argenti” a woman greets, she sits telling a story to a small gaggle of children. “Good morning m’lady, you are as beautiful as this fine mourning” he says with sincerity. Complement, praise, and poetry always seemed to fall so naturally from him, perhaps it was his constitution as a knight or it was just in his nature, whatever the case he felt it his duty to make everything know how beautiful it truly was. The woman smiled and turned her attention back to the wide eyes of the children. 

“What happened next!” one of them asked, no doubt having already heard whatever tale it was countless times. “They were turned into a horrible monster! With snarling fangs and large horns! Pitch black eyes and mangy fur” the woman told, moving her hands to mimic the horns as she pretended to growl to scare the children. “Ah, this story again” argenti thought to himself quietly, his smile fading ever so slightly. Ever since he was a wide eyed boy he never liked the tale, it was not a tale steeped in myth and magic, the pages of its book not yet yellowed by time as only one decade had passed since its horrid conception. 

A young boy of 17 sits around the fire with the other much older knight, their armor intricate while his simple, hair chopped short while his lays against his back pulled back into a low ponytail. The scarlet wisps of a crackling fire brush gently against the blackened cracking wood logs, smoldering sticks hiss and wheeze while a stew cooks over the fire. The older men and women laugh as they share stories, Argenti sits and quietly admires the color of the flame until something catches his ears. “Well- did ya hear? Say they were cursed something nasty” one man speaks animatedly waving his hands, the young knight's head turned towards the rambling man “poor kid- well..guess kid aint the right word now. More like a rabid animal” he sighs. “I dont think ive ever seen an animal as horrid as what was described” another knight chimes in. “Pure evil is what they say…a beast” it has not been the first time the ruby haired knight hurd tales of monsters, however this sat in his head until a year later the truth had all but faded into obscurity. Those too young to remember the tale simply left it to fade into legend, a bedtime story to tide children over, those who were old enough to remember refused to believe such fairy tales. But the beautiful knight believed, and in his noble heart he found no hate for the unfortunate soul. How could one so kind be truly evil? Even if their visage has been warped, surely the kind heart must remain? It was unjust to wish someone such harm. The words wrapped around his heart, constricting it until it burst with every new time he heard the abhorrent retelling, it was an ugly feeling that arose within his chest, as if it were a crushing weight or the moon plucking the tides of his mind to some dismal disgust. He had never once stopped the honeyed words that followed freely in his veins. 

“Perhaps their appearance has changed, yet a kind heart persits through such suffering” he ignored the oblong glance's people always shot his way, his gloved hand and gauntlet red upon his chest above his heart, the cold metal was no comfort to him. “Ah sir argenti, ever the optimist” the women chuckled. The skys stretched on endlessly, a sea of cerulean blue and gentle whispers of cotton white. Boundless and forgiving even with harsh rain or gentle downpour, he wondered if even if only for a second if the legend was truly just that. A tale eating the stomach of tragedy, spun with gold thread into something ugly in spite of its jewels. The thought played in his mind like a music box turning endlessly, he allowed his feet to carry him to the edge of the town where he found himself in a field of green. 

A sprawling field of soft grass that gave way to lush trees and overgrown flora. Breath flooded his lungs before he exhaled deeply, this was of course what he had come for, to see if truly the legend was only that, nothing but words scrawled on a page and bound in treated leather. Part of him hoped, desperately so, that it was true. Even if it was fleeting he hoped, if he was wrong then he'd find an abandoned castle deep in the forest, and if he was right then he would find a person turned beast with a heart that he, in his delusion, believed would be kind. So once again a knight set off down the fading path, but perhaps for the first time the knight had no intention of slaying a beast, but rather telling them of their beauty. 

The fading path and rough hike through the forest did not dissuade him, even as the blues of the sky faded to warm hues of orange and pink he remained steadfast in his determination until finally the path came into view once again and the tall iron gates fell into his sight. They stood tall and imposing, rusting slightly and flaking their once gorgeous luster. As his hand gripped the cold metal it seemed to push open with a piercing creak, never locked he pushed it open as the rusted hinges scream and wail. Ever courteous he pushes it shut once more, observing how the land basks in the warm color of dusk, he noted the sprawling vines and well maintained hedges, not overgrown or unruly, the sight astonishes him and fills him with the hope that he is right. What monster maintains beauty that has long forsaken it? He gazes at the large doors with their intricate carvings and heavy knockers. Much like the iron gate they seem to simply push open, the castle is dark, the beautiful double staircase wrapped gently in crown molding and intricate scrolling leafs and crests, yellowed glow illuminating the marble steps. It was grand, the picture of an illuminating fairy tail, the carpets were pristine as he looked around, two large pillars holding the stone carvings of angel-esque figures. The most surprising thing is the many flowers that sit in elaborate porcelain vases, fired with gold and pure white, roses of every kind, orchids of all hues dance with color in the subtle candle light, lilies and peonies mixed in with sprigs of baby's breath and queen anne’s lace. 

A squeaked gasp hits his ears, auburn red locks shifting as his paris green eyes landed on a maid. He perked up at the sight- a maid? There was a maid? Oh joy if there was truly a maid and staff then surely- “leave- please just leave” her voice trembled as she shook, the feather duster in her hand trembling. He was shocked before he realized the gleaming tip of his red spear didn't send the message he wanted. “Ah my lady, you need not fear, I-” she cut him off suddenly, having a rather indignant tone.  “The liege is not a monster! So take your spear and-” she angrily waves the feather duster when the door sitting at the top of the grand staircase slams open, the old hinges creaking as the deafening sound echoes in the quiet night air. 

Spring. That is all Argenti can think of, the cool breath of spring, the rushing of crystalline waters against smooth stones replaces the rushing of blood hammering in his ears. Ensnared his heart beat to the rhythm of their footsteps, a quick descent down the stairs accompanied only by the sound of wolfish feet padding against the marble. In his stupor Argenti did not miss the clawed hand extended protectively in front of the maid, the fur was thick and covered the large palm entirely as it did the rest of your body, sharp claws protruded at every fingertip as obsidian daggers, but there was an air of gentle protectiveness. In Spite of the pointed teeth and morphed animal-like features that warp your face, it remains unfathomably human. Anger, worry, and inexplicably fear, where displayed as the most beautiful stained glass mural, even the twist of your horns and the gentle downward sweep of your ears could only add to the haunting visage of something- someone once human. Pools of (e/c) flickered in the candle light, an enchanted lake whose siren song left the beautiful man breathless. A hopeless sort of breathless no air could satisfy, a breathless feeling only felt on the brink of death with a monster's gnarled fangs deep in your throat, when you are so stricken with fear that your very blood urges you to the brink of madness if it means an escape. It was not fear he felt. A sort of breathless that strikes the hot iron of longing, felt when one is so impossibly overcome with boiling love that it steels the air in their lungs, that if denied even a moment of its cause- death would be swift, it was not fangs he felt against his neck, not blood that made his body warm, it was the graze of a lovers soft lips, it was the warmth of blush that spread up his neck, a pit in his stomach felt only in the face of inevitable death or love. To be in love, to fall from heaven willingly wandering by another's side, to know pain in their absence, to kiss the scars on their mind and body as if you could will flowers to bloom sweet blossoms in their wake.

A hopeless sort of breathless no air could satisfy, for you alone could ease this burning in his lungs, simply turn your eyes, beautifully human eyes, turn them towards him and gaze at him longingly as he gazes at you. 

Before a single growled word could leave you, Argenti stepped forward, spear standing tall and firm in his grip as he fell into a kneel at your feet. Clad in the bright untarnished silver of his gauntlet, his hand outstretched as if reaching out to touch the sky itself and betwixt the plates of sterling metal rests a brilliant rose red in hue and pristine in its petals. His eyes roamed over your large figure as if to commit every detail to his memory. His actions, these feelings that flooded him were unlike anything he had felt, the only fair comparison in his mind being when he felt something was truly beautiful. A feeling without real reason, the feeling of beauty and this inexplicable feeling of longing, of love, could only be considered instinct. To love you was instinct, to fall to his knee rose in hand was instinct, the words he spoke next sent a pliable shock through the florid castle halls, forged by instinct yet tempered by the pure desire and longing in his heart.

“Marry me” 

Anger dies on your tongue as you stare down at the flamboyant knight, who you had assumed came to attempt your life, kneeling before you anticipating your response to his proposal…his proposal…the most gorgeous man you had ever laid eyes on just proposed…to you, a hideous monster. Surely this must be some kind of cruel joke. Ten years of this mangled body, ten years of knights with their spears and swords, their slings of arrows and suits of armor beating down the open door and speaking words of hate and torment, how they would save the staff from their prison, how they would no longer be forced to serve in fear of a monster. 10 years of what felt like lifetimes. “Leave this place” you growl raising a clawed hand in an attempt to frighten the knight, your voice booming and filling his ears forcing out all other sounds. A deep sigh left him as he returned to his feet, only reaching just below your broad shoulders despite the fact the man was quite tall himself. The sigh sounded sad, wholly dejected as he stood, you braced for the pain of his scream, the sound of armored boots hitting the tiled floor as he ran, perhaps even the cut of his spear that you knew wouldn't even get the chance to hit you before you had shattered it, but nothing came, instead without fear he reached for your large paw like hand and kissed the fur that lined the inside of your wrist. His eyes gleam as if polished by the newfound determination while he slowly brings his adoring gaze to meet yours. “My darling, would you truly turn me away from you?” his slender fingers clad in silver intertwine, delicate touch careful of your claws yet… it is not out of fear, but out of a tenderness as if he were scared you would be hurt. “I am afraid that i cannot bear to part with you” his touch was fire on your skin, every brush of his hands igniting that fear and anxiety deep in the recesses of your mind. From somewhere- who really knows where, the knight presents a rose in all its glory, red velvet petals a brilliant hue in the candlelight. 

“I am Argenti, may this rose convey my heartfelt affections- I find myself quite taken by you. I will not stop until I have taken your hand in marriage, not even the stars could keep me from the beauty you hold” no matter the delicate words he employed, the promise that tinged the corners of his speech was punctuated by a fire blazing deep in the bowls of madness. He must be mad, to gaze upon the abomination that stands before him and proclaim its beauty; he must be either mad or blind, perhaps both. Anger filled you again, the flowery words he used only serving to rub salt in wounds that never close, that voice in your head, the voices of all who had to bear witness to the misfortune of the once great noble house echoed with cruel laughter in your ears.

“Fine! If you will not leave then you may stay till you rot!” the sentence came out as a vicious growl, clawed paw seeding his arm as you dragged him into the castle, down pristine winding halls adorned with the same intricate that flooded the foyer and entrance, the mocking forced smiles of ancestors, once pompous lords and ladies staring as the scenery rushes by until his boots clank against cold stone as opposed to gleaming tile. The cold air whipped through barred windows as he was taken deeper, deeper, deeper. At last he was all but thrown into the cell at the very end of the hall, the rusting iron smell hung thick in the air as you glared down at his chest heaving. “In your persistence you will find no solace” was the last thing he heard, as the bars of the cell were slammed shut and the heavy fall of your clawed feet echoed away from him. Emerald eyes burned holes into your back, lids heavy and irises laden with adoration and affection, when your beastly form was ripped from his sight he turned his gaze out he bared window and upon the garden and shining moon that now pranced among the stars. 

You poor thing, so jaded by the ugliness of others who refuse to see the beauty in your soul. He knew you were kind, behind the towering walls you have built stone by stone there was kindness long forgotten. The knight saw it, he saw it in the way you rushed in defense of the maid, in the way you gave him a chance to run away, in the way your grip on his arm was neither harsh nor bruising, in the way your claws- like the paws of a wolf stretched and mangled to be longer like a humans held his offering of a rose gently even as you walked away. He saw that kindness even now as he stood imprisoned in your castle, unchained, and with the bars of the cell unlocked, easily pushed ajar by the gentle touch of his hands…every opportunity to flee, run back to his cottage and find another to love, but who was this humble knight to deny the blessing bestowed upon him? For you were his blessing, an end to this curse of loneliness, and he was your knight, the one who would end your curse of melancholy. He would show you the beauty you possess, to him you were a vision, an eternal blessing he could not live without. 

He was yours, whether you knew his devotion yet was simply writing on the page, he would ensure that you knew his love, that you knew you were loved. 

You are loved. 

[lilmarshie]

A Chance Encounter | B. Barnes x Reader

Entangled Fates, Chapter One

A Victorian Era AU

Y/N - your name

Bucky, a young aristocrat, attends a prestigious ball, feeling out of place among the opulence and superficiality. The lace and opulence was far too much for his liking. He wanted to spend more time outdoors in his element rather than holed up inside attending a party.

Y/N, a brilliant but underprivileged scholar, manages to secure an invitation to the ball through a benefactor, hoping to make important connections for your future. This was going to be monumental for your future career and you were very fortunate to be able to attend such a prestigious gathering.

You arrived promptly at 7pm on the dot, dressed in a beautiful maroon and navy dress, that sparkled ever so slightly in the dim light of the building. The ball was being held in a sprawling home on a few acres. It had a tall, pitched roof featuring brickwork and decorative tiled hallways throughout the home. The home also boasted massive ornate fireplaces in every room, a beautiful front porch, and gorgeous stained glass windows. A butler, was there to greet you at the door, ushering you into the grand foyer and over to two massive doors that led into a lavish but cozy ballroom. There were sprawls of people standing in what seemed to be every corner of the room. Mingling amongst each other, while servants catered to the whims of the partygoers.

Amidst the crowd, you locked eyes with a man who had dark chocolate brown hair which was neatly slicked back. He was dressed in a meticulously pressed dark gray suit that accentuated his features. You locked eyes briefly with this man before turning away embarrassment visible on your face. You knew that you didn’t fit in here but you needed to do this for the sake of your future.

You went to go and grab a place of pastries and a cup of tea to keep your mind occupied. “I don’t need to get involved in whatever this man does. He may be strikingly good looking but I can’t get involved.” You think, as you wander off to a nearby table, the plate in your hands filled to the brim with the delicious treats. You noticed that this man kept his eyes on you the entire time. He began to make his way over to you. “Ahem.” The man says, as you swallow a bite of one of the pastries. “I wanted to introduce myself. I haven’t seen you around before. My name is James Buchanan Barnes. But you can call me Bucky.” He says, with a huge grin. His hand was extended to shake hands with yours. You reach over the table and shake his hand with a smile. “Pleasure to meet you, Bucky.” You say, as you shake his hand warmly.

“How are you enjoying everything?” Bucky asks, his hands now clasped in his lap as he watches you intently. “It’s been very nice to be invited here. I never thought I would ever be able to attend an event such as this.” You say, with a wistful sigh. “This is honestly a dream come true. I am but a simple scholar and I have dreamed of a moment such as this.” You say, as you drink a sip of tea that was swiftly brought to you by one of the many attentive servants. “I’m very glad to hear that, y/n.” Bucky says, as he takes a sip of tea as well. His brown eyes twinkling in the low light. He was contemplating whether or not to tell you why he was there before clearing his throat softly.

“How about we step outside to continue our conversation? I’m quite enjoying myself here with you. And I’d love to get to know you better.” Bucky smiled, as he finished his cup of tea before standing up and extending his arm out towards yours. Nodding, you link arms with Bucky’s and make your way outside, into the cold London air. Bucky leads you out into the porch and you sit next to him on one of the benches outside. The dim oil lamps faintly lighting up the space between you.

Over the next couple of hours, Bucky shares with you his thoughts about what’s going on with society, his dreams about the future, and business opportunities that he has awaiting him. You mention that your benefactor has secured the invitation for the ball tonight as well as helped you become the scholar that you are today. Without them, you confessed, you would be in a far worse situation.

As the evening draws to a close, Bucky makes a promise to meet again, with you, at a later date. He takes down your address and with a kiss to your hand, and once more to your cheek, promises to write to you soon. Before disappearing back inside to the swarms of partygoers.

You were eager to meetup with Bucky again however that meeting would occur. James Buchanan Barnes has captivated you in ways that you never imagined. And you were awaiting that moment with anticipation.

Little did you know, that Bucky went home that night happier and hopeful, than he’s ever been.

[carolmunson]

love language two

love language set list you pad into the kitchen while he sleepily slides a few eggs on a cast iron skillet, his grandma's then his mom's then his. bacon grease is the only scent hanging in the air, changing when you step behind him to bury your face between his shoulder blades. your hands slide from his lower back to around his waist, your pelvis pressed against the seat of his sweatpants. "careful with the grease," you mumble, your cheek now pressed against his skin.

"hm," he replies, still half sleeping, still half in the night before, "will you grab me a shirt, baby?"

you do, soft and basic, dark and blue. it smells like him, green earth and cigarettes, laundry soap, the way he smiles, how his fingers coast in your hair. your eyes linger on his clothes from yesterday, stained with the argument and shards of glass from the night before. he dresses in the gray light of the kitchen, letting the sizzle of breakfast fill the room in time with the patter of the rain smacking against the tin roof. warm hands grab your face with intention, warm lips soothe you of your chilly thoughts. storm night fights, rumbles of thunder, the crash of whoever was right or wrong. never knowing why you were fighting anyway.

"hm," you hum. his lips rush yours again, again, again. "hm," he says. you stand there on the tile together. socked feet, fireplace bodies. his nose kisses the tip of yours. the coffee machine bubbles. "we should stay in," he mumbles, "for today." you nod, he tastes like apologies. you taste like you want to say sorry. the rain gets heavier on the tin roof, washing away what's left of the guilt. he smiles. "hm," he says, your cheek is blessed with his kiss again. you walk to the coffee maker, grabbing your mugs from the cupboard, his black yours green. hand made from a junk shop three years ago, a first anniversary present. you hear him start to plate breakfast. sometimes it feels like playing house but you never know whose supposed to be playing the parents.

the rain roars. but as you prepare his coffee and your own, feel the warmth of his body as it rests against you while he puts the plates on the table, as you hear him start to become alive around you, and the thunder rolls -- you know that for at least today, the storm will stay outside.