#— ◊ she’s made up of silk and rose water ‹‹ closet ››

[wild-typo-turtle]

Threads - Part 6

Explicit (slow burn, 18+ only) - Rings of Power - Gil-galad x OFC (Elf)

Includes S2E8 of Rings of Power - spoilers ahoy!

Gil-galad had only taken a handful of steps when his gaze passed over yet another collapsed building. From the looks of things, it had once been an open, airy shop that had faced directly into the plaza. The roof had caved in, creating dusty shadows, and even his keen eyes might have missed the slumped figure had he not heard the tiny whimper from the darkness.

Eregion has been destroyed; Sauron is gone. And yet, the sun still shines, as the ruined city holds the last thing that High King Gil-galad had ever expected to find.

Themes: #Idiots in love, #love at first sight, #soulmates, #smut with feelings, #fix-it, #everybody lives

Content Warnings: Explicit content eventually (slow burn), canon-typical violence

Tag List: @morganas-pendragons, @stellar-solar-flare, @the141bandicoot

Dreamcasting: Keri Russell as Linnea

Part 1 (includes A/N and credits)

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

A/N: Thank you to all those who have been so kind in your support of this story! I appreciate all the likes, reblogs, and the comments. <3 If you would like to be added to the tag list, please let me know!

Part 6

Three Weeks Later

As the sun rose and she opened her eyes, Linnea was already conscious of soft sounds within her rooms. There was the snap of crackling logs; there was the breath of a burning fire; there was the swish of water.

Her two attendants, Lavan and Pendes, were moving in the bathing room and her dressing area. She could smell the oils and flower petals that they were adding to the hot water as they filled the bath; roses and lilies, that would leave a light scent behind on her skin.

She sat up, swinging her legs out of the bed, and stood. Her nightgown fell around her as she did so: creamy silk, as light as a feather, with delicate silver embroidery at the cuffs. There was a new nightrobe hung next to the bed as well, should she desire it; more silk, a heavier weight, in deep green.

Forgoing the robe, she padded straight into the bathing room. Lavan and Pendes were waiting next to the full tub; all was in readiness. It had only taken them a day or two to establish a routine, and they stood quietly as she shed the nightgown and stepped into the tub, letting her do it herself rather than offering assistance.

The tub was another work of art, like almost everything in Lindon. It was marble, carved into the side of the wall, and it had a trough on one side where she could lay her head back into a second, much smaller basin. She closed her eyes, lazily running a sponge over her limbs, as Pendes combed out her curls with her fingers and then began massaging scented soap into the hair. It was still strange to her to spend so much time on herself in the morning - but she couldn’t deny that this part of the process, allowing herself to be pampered, was rather pleasant indeed. 

While Pendes tended to her hair, there were more sounds. Lavan had gone into the dressing room, and there was the rustle of fabric, a faint tinkling of metal as she laid out clothing. Eressie had been busy over the last weeks, and the closet was beginning to fill with new gowns. The dressmaker had done an admirable job of maintaining some elements of simplicity in the designs, but at the same time, there was no doubt that these were the clothes of a queen.

As Pendes finished washing her hair and wrapped it to dry, Linnea opened her eyes. Lavan had come back into the bathing room, and was ready with a larger drying sheet that had been warming by the hearth; Linnea rose from the bath and secured it around herself as she stepped out.

The dress that Lavan had laid out was one of her favorites of the gowns that Eressie had made thus far. She quickly donned her undergarments and then slipped the dress over her head; it was a medium weight silk, a cool grey with faint undertones of blue and purple. The round neck was adorned with silver embroidery and pearls, as were the cuffs, and there was a cluster of fine silver chains that ran down from her shoulder, crossing over her chest, and were pinned at her opposite hip with a small silver brooch.��  

Once she was finished, Lavan tightened the lacings at the back, and then Linnea sat down at her dressing table. The towel had dried her hair, and the curls flowed free once Pendes unwrapped her head. In short order, her hair had been brushed out and arranged, a half-braid pulling the top part back from her face. And Pendes had inserted jeweled pins into the braid at intervals, tiny diamonds that winked among the brown.

Pendes secured the last pin and stepped back to stand by Lavan, folding her hands at her waist and lowering her head modestly beneath her veil. As with many of the palace servants, both male and female, they were members of the order of Estë and were dedicated to the care of others. Their veils reflected their desire to remain turned inward, seeking both inner and outer peace.

Linnea turned, inclining her head at the women. The veils were intended to separate members of the order from the regular rhythms of existence, but she did not intend to ever take their work for granted. These two might be attending to her for centuries. 

“Thank you,” she said quietly - the veils always made her think that she needed to keep her voice hushed whenever she spoke to them. “You may continue with your day.”

They bowed and left, with no words. They seldom spoke; there had been a few brief conversations when Adabes had appointed them, mostly dealing with logistics and Linnea’s preferences. They would likely never be chatty, but perhaps they were growing accustomed to her just as she was growing accustomed to them. More familiarity would come in time.

But there was one thing she had kept very, very private, ever since she had received it the previous afternoon. She had carefully tucked it all the way at the back of one of the drawers, and she opened that now, pushing aside brushes and combs and jeweled hair ornaments before finding the small silk pouch. It had been so hard to save it - she had had to stop herself more than once from pulling it out over dinner - but she had wanted to wait for the morning, for the quiet start to the day.  

Once the pouch was tucked safely in her pocket, she rose from the table and crossed to the door, smiling as she passed the vase of flowers on the hearthside table. It was replenished each day, with various types of blooms and different themes of color, but one thing remained steadfast. 

Every flower in the vase meant love.

She opened the door and peeked out, seeing that Landir and Hellathas had, as usual, come on duty while she had been dressing. “Good morning,” she greeted them. “I will be going up to the King’s rooms now.”

This had been another of those logistical conversations. The staircase afforded herself and Gil-galad a measure of privacy, but it also - as the captain of the palace guard had very politely observed - meant that the soldiers would often be left unknowingly guarding an empty room. And so a compromise had been reached: they would still use the staircase, but would at least tell the guards where they would be so that positions could be adjusted. And since the stairs represented a point of entry, even as private as they were, one guard would come in to secure them while the other remained outside.   

Hellathas nodded at her in acknowledgement, and quietly entered as Linnea moved to the staircase. She took up her position at the foot while Linnea began to ascend quickly; her feet knew the steps by now. She could already smell fresh bread; Gil-galad’s servants were just as efficient as hers, and they had adjusted smoothly to the change in his routine - especially impressive given how long the previous routine had been in place.

He was seated at his desk when she stepped into his rooms, and there was a letter spread out on the surface. Of course, he had heard her coming, but she liked that he finished what he was doing before he greeted her; it spoke to the ease that had already cemented itself into place between the two of them, and it boded well for their marriage to come. 

“On dhea, melethel,” he murmured, even as he was still reading. “I will be but a moment.”

She crossed into his study, not wanting to disturb him - but she knew he would be pleased that she still came to him. She laid a hand lightly on his shoulder and leaned down to brush a kiss across his cheek. “On dhea.”

He didn’t look up from the letter, but his hand came up to cover hers, and he smiled.

She left him to it then, moving into the dining room. Her request for bread had been honored and then some; there was always a full basket of hot rolls for her, of many different types and flavors. There were several kinds of fresh fruit, as well as the roasted vegetables and salads that Gil-galad enjoyed, and there were two stone ewers standing side by side. She had not cared for the tea that Gil-galad preferred when she had tried it, and so now she had her own brew.

Gil-galad joined her after the promised moment, gathering his breakfast and then sitting down with her at the table. She had quickly come to treasure this time for just the two of them, a chance to speak about the day ahead and also just be. 

And also, to begin to learn each other’s stories. He had many more than she did, but he hadn’t seemed bored to hear about her quiet life in Eregion - she had been able to talk about her parents, as wistful as it was, and he had listened. And she had devoured his words about his youth, as fraught as it had been with war and upheaval. 

“Are you occupied today, melethel?” 

Linnea shook her head, taking a bite of fruit. “Not with anything that cannot be delayed. I had intended to return to the city and see the progress on my looms - but that need not be done today. Why do you ask?”

Admittedly, she was eager to go see how the construction was coming along. She had found a woodworker in Lindon who specialized in the fiber arts, and had passed a happy afternoon commissioning two new looms. She shuddered to think of the number he would present to the palace to settle accounts, as Adabes had put it, but a good loom would last for long years. And with the fashions she had seen in Lindon, it had been necessary to order a dedicated velvet loom if she hoped to make anything wearable. Her hands had not been this idle in an age, and she was anxious for the craftsman to complete his work. 

But Ereinion would not have asked if it wasn’t something important. 

“I received a message from Master Círdan this morning. Nothing of urgency, but I thought we might ride down to the Havens, as you have never seen them.”

She was immediately grateful for Eressie’s speed in outfitting her. On the surface, it might seem like a simple excursion, but it would also be her first real outing by the High King’s side as queen-to-be. The last three weeks had been quiet; there had not been any court functions to attend, and she had appreciated the time to settle in. This would end that sheltered period - and there was a need to look her part.

And Ereinion was right; she had never seen the Havens, the shipbuilding community of Mithlond. While she certainly knew how to weave a sailcloth, their shop had not done much business in that area. 

He had said ride. There hadn’t been much call for riding in Eregion; the city was easy enough to move around on foot, and she had rarely left it. But she had ridden enough to feel comfortable agreeing; it was not a skill that required too much maintenance, at least for the basics. 

And this outing also made the timing perfect for the object in her pocket.

“That sounds lovely,” she replied. “It has been some time since I have ridden, it will be pleasant. Am I properly attired for such a trip?”

Ereinion chuckled. He reached out, enclosing her hand in his, and gently stroked his thumb across the back.

“My lady, your loveliness defies words. You would be properly attired were you still wearing the gown I first saw you in.”

The compliment made her blush, even though it also made her chuckle at the blatant flattery. That dress, after spending the better part of two days trapped beneath the rubble of Eregion - as well as being subjected to the blood of her injuries - had been fit for nothing but the fire after she had finally gotten out of it.

“Thank you,” she murmured, as she lifted her eyes back to his. “But I believe you are missing something, my King.” 

With that, she drew the silk pouch out, and set it gently on the table between them.

The size gave it away - he knew instantly what was in it, she could see that. He stared at it for what seemed like an eternity, making no move to pick it up.

“You did not have to,” he finally said, very softly, and there was an audible tremble in his voice. His eyes were still fixed on the little bag. 

“No,” she whispered back. “I did not have to.”

And she left it at that, instead picking the pouch up herself and opening it, and shaking the ring out into her palm.

In the end, she had decided on simplicity. The jeweler she had chosen had been suggested by Eressie, a woman that she had collaborated with on many projects, including some of Linnea’s own gowns. The smith had offered more elaborate designs, but this one had spoken the most to her: a wide silver band, overlaid with delicate filigree work of leaves and vines in gold and more silver, and a few diamonds scattered amidst the filigree almost like drops of dew. It was as if the smith had pulled down a branch of the great Tree, and transformed it to metal - and she could think of nothing more appropriate for Ereinion.

She extended her hand, letting him see it.

He was still frozen, his gaze glued to the ring. She felt a tiny flutter in her stomach, the start of fear that she had chosen wrongly - but in the next second, it was gone, and it was her turn to stare, as his eyes closed and she watched a tear slowly slide down his cheek.

She had not erred in her choice.

Carefully, Linnea set the ring down on the table, and reached across. Just as he had done with her when they had first met, she cupped his cheek in her hand and used her thumb to wipe away the tear. His eyes were still closed, but he leaned into her palm, pressing his face against it. 

“May I?” she whispered.

He opened his eyes then, and silently extended his right hand to her. Vilya was on his middle finger but the rest were bare, and she slipped the new ring onto the index finger - the same place where her own ring sat. Just as with hers, it fit perfectly, and it looked perfect, the silver and gold more than a match in elegance and beauty for his golden robes and his crown.  

He still hadn’t said anything; now he was staring at the ring on his hand, every bit of his attention riveted on it. She could guess what was going through his mind; similar thoughts had run through hers that night after they’d left the Tree, after she was alone in her rooms. She had spent hours fixated on her hand, turning it this way and that, watching the light catch the diamonds and the silver. As if taking her eyes off of it for even a moment might cause it to vanish.

He still wasn’t looking at her when his lips finally moved. 

“Word has reached my ears already of your goodness,” he whispered. “How you are kind, and generous, and gracious to all. How those in your service are never addressed but with respect and honor. Had I been given only that much, I would have lived in gratitude for the rest of my days to have so worthy a queen at my side. But to have been granted this as well, a love that could shake the foundations of the earth, withstand the might of Morgoth himself…”

Linnea could feel her own eyes beginning to overflow, and decided that he needed to stop talking.

She lurched up, grabbing his face, and pressed her lips to his to stop his mouth.

At the touch, he pushed his chair back from the table, and his arms shot up and pulled her down onto his lap. His words had touched her heart but this was better; she could answer him with her kiss, and her hands on his face. A long answer, with him holding her so tightly that it was near impossible to draw breath, but that was another thing that was entirely unnecessary. 

But when it did become a pressing need, when they separated for a few seconds, she whispered another answer against his lips.

“Three months.”

She felt the shock run through him. His eyes flew open, meeting hers, and she could tell that he knew exactly what she was talking about. 

“Melethel,” he choked out. “You need not - “

Perhaps she shouldn’t have stopped kissing him. She pressed her fingers over his lips, once again stilling his speech.

“You said you were mine to command in this,” she said softly. “And so that command is given. Three months. That is all the longer I wish to wait for you.”  

Truth be told, she was ready to speak the blessings right then, and then for him to take her to bed instead of riding to the Havens. But there were merits to the customs; she was having difficulty recalling what they were at the moment, but there were merits. And part of her wanted the ceremony; she wanted to see him in wedding clothes, she wanted to look beautiful for him. Three months would grant Eressie enough time for that.

He had subsided as she had spoken, reading her intent from her face, and when she had finished, he nodded against her fingers.

“If you are certain that is what you want, then it shall be so,” he said softly, as she dropped her hand. “You caught me out weeks ago, my lady; I am indeed an eager bridegroom. Three months, then. Our wedding…and your coronation.”

It was her turn to shake her head. She needed no ceremony for that; their wedding would be enough - 

And just as she had done to him, when she opened her mouth to speak, he pressed his fingers to her lips.

“I will not be denied that,” he said, very firmly, and it sent a shiver down her spine that was not in the least unpleasant. “At the wedding feast, if you wish it. But you shall choose your crown, and I shall place it on your head with my own hands, melethel.”

He was wearing his High King expression, and she knew that arguing with him would be like trying to persuade a mountain to move. She would have better luck with the stone. 

“Very well,” she said, and she kissed the fingers that were still covering her mouth. “I would deny you nothing. Shall I speak to Adabes, to begin arrangements?”

Ereinion nodded, letting his hand fall back to her waist. “I will send someone to her, and you, to assist with the preparations.” He winced slightly. “There are those that must be invited. I am sorry - you will not know many of them. We will do our best to keep it as private as may be, but - ”

“I understand,” she said quickly. “I do wish it to be as small as we can, but I understand that that is not an easy thing. It is a royal wedding, after all. We will manage.”

Yes, they would, because the most important part would just be the two of them. That was worth a few hours of ceremony and well-wishes from strangers. And after Eregion, perhaps it was an opportunity to share their joy with the people; a light against the shadow, as it were. Even those like Eressie, who had endured their own losses, could perhaps draw some comfort and strength from that.

“We shall,” he murmured, and brought her hand to his lips. “And now, let us depart for the Havens, melethel. For you are not the only one who does not wish to wait much longer. And if you remain where you sit, I will find even three months will try my patience beyond reason.”

She laughed, and leaned down, bringing their foreheads together and cradling his face in her hands. “Gi melin, my King. Gi melin.”

Gil-galad had not lived two thousand years without being at least somewhat observant. And even amidst the many distractions that had presented themselves over breakfast, he had heard the very faint catch in Linnea’s voice when she had replied to his invitation.

It has been some time since I have ridden.

She had fit so naturally into the rhythm of life at court, he had forgotten that her background would not have lent itself to such things. It seemed as though she had always been there by his side. And he knew she would have said something if she had truly been uncomfortable, but that tiny hitch had told him much. 

And so, a very quiet word to the horsemaster had ensured she was on one of the most placid, sweet-tempered mares in the stable. It was not so great a distance down to the port, and he kept their pace at an easy canter, watching Linnea carefully out of the corner of his eye. She was not a bad rider, but it was clear she lacked practice.

Perhaps he could teach her? At the very least, he could offer the opportunity for that practice. It could become a part of their days, riding out together for an hour or two. He had promised her that there would be time for them, and indeed there had been, but it would do well to ensure that that continued - especially as those times were an island of peace amidst the continuing preparations for war.

He watched her, and it was only a small effort to keep his eye on her and not on the ring she had placed on his hand. It glittered from where he held the reins, the diamonds winking in the morning sunlight. A betrothal ring, for him. Just as she was promised to him, he was promised to her, and now it was plain for all to see. 

Three months. It would pass quickly, especially to arrange both a wedding and a coronation, but tomorrow would be soon enough to start seeing to the preparations. For today, he intended to simply enjoy his lady’s company.

It is not something I thought ever to do, to walk with my queen through our realm.

Here was his first chance, for the path was ending, and the Havens were rising up before them.

A twitch on the reins and a slight shift of his weight signaled his mount, and the horse slowed to a walk to cross the bridge. Linnea’s mare easily followed suit - the horse had quickly gotten the idea - and behind him, he heard the sound of their guards matching the pace.

He turned his head to look at her properly. Her cheeks were pink from the wind, and her crystalline eyes were sparkling - she might lack experience, but it was clear she had enjoyed the ride. And when she smiled at him, the beauty of it could have commanded anything her heart desired, and he would have gladly granted it. The Valar themselves could not have denied her.

The workshop doors were open, and as their horses drew to a halt, he could see the shipbuilders and apprentices laboring. But even amidst the work, there was a peace here - perhaps it was from the nearby water, the sea bringing calm along with it.

Or perhaps, it was Círdan.

The master shipwright was standing at the door to one of the workrooms, watching with a faint smile on his face. His greyish hair blew slightly in the wind from the gulf; his arms were crossed over his chest, and he leaned against the curved wooden wall, his patience infinite. It had been so for as long as Gil-galad could remember; even back when he had been a child, when his father had sent him and his mother to safety with Círdan’s people during the Wars of Beleriand, the ancient Elf had exuded that sense of eternal waiting.

Gil-galad dismounted, swinging his leg up and over his horse and coming to the ground. One of the guards took the bridle as he did so, and then he turned his attention to Linnea, who was still seated. 

“Come,” he said softly, raising his hands. “I have you.”

She moved as if they had performed the action a thousand times before, resting her hands on his shoulders and allowing him to lift her down from the saddle. Unnecessary, to be sure; she could have done it on her own, but he cherished these small graces that he could perform for his queen. And when she was on the ground, he gently set her hand on his arm, loathe to surrender even this light contact.

How had he spent two thousand years without this? But he knew the answer even as he thought the question. 

Because it had been Linnea he had been waiting for.

“High King,” Círdan said softly, as they drew close. “Lady Linnea. Welcome.”

He extended his hands, and Linnea let go of Gil-galad’s arm to accept them, bowing her head respectfully to the shipwright. “Master Círdan,” she said, matching his quiet tone. “It is an honor.”

“The honor is mine, to receive you. Come - if I might steal the High King away for a few moments, my apprentice Vorondir will show you our workshops in the meantime.”

He gestured, and a young red-haired elf put down his tools and joined them, bowing deeply. “My lady.”

Linnea smiled and nodded, and followed the apprentice into the dim, quiet shop. Gil-galad could see the light in her eyes; this was familiar territory for her, a group of crafters bent to their purpose. She had spoken of doing the same with her weaving room once she had it established, opening it to any who might like to join her. 

He tore his gaze from her to meet Círdan's eyes, and had to smile at the knowing expression on the shipwright’s face. Without a word, Círdan turned, letting Gil-galad follow him around the outer wall of the workshop, and it became clear where they were going - down to the edge of the water, a place best suited for private discussion.

Yet once they reached the shores, Círdan did not speak immediately. This was his way, to settle himself in a place before intruding on the silence, as if he was establishing the permission of wherever he was. Gil-galad let him take the time; he did not come to the Havens often, and it was pleasing, allowing himself to enjoy the peace and the slowness, his eyes drifting out over the water. 

“Linnea the Good, the singers will call her,” Círdan finally murmured. “Calagûr. The Heart-Light.” 

Gil-galad blinked, surprised. “You have foreseen this? Narya has given you this knowledge?”

Vilya had been strangely quiet over the last weeks. Before Eregion, he had grown accustomed to its visions coming unbidden, unpredictable and fleeting. But since then, the only whispers from the ring had been that one clear moment, that glimpse of what he prayed was his - their - future. 

But Círdan shook his head. “I hear the sound of the sea around her,” he said. “It speaks her name, both the one that is and the ones yet to come. Did the Valar choose wisely for you?” 

No one else would have heard it but Gil-galad detected the faintest hint of teasing in Círdan’s tone. Nothing malicious, no - just a wry note, as if he had already seen more than enough to answer his own question.

He raised a brow as his only reply, and Círdan chuckled. “Where was she hidden away, that it took you these many years to find her?”

“Eregion,” he answered softly. “She survived the siege, in the ruins of her shop. She was a weaver.”

“And now a queen,” Círdan replied. He shifted his weight, folding his hands in front of him. “You chart new waters, Artanáro. Seldom does the seed of love wait so long to sprout in our kind, yet it may bear the sweetest fruit of all - a fruit so rare that few have tasted it.”

Of all the Elves in Middle Earth, Círdan knew him best, and was the easiest - save one - to open his heart to. He was still High King, but they had known each other for so long, somehow that did not matter as much as with others. 

He turned, facing Círdan more directly, as was fitting for what he wanted to say. “I fear I am adrift on those waters,” he said quietly. “I had put thoughts of such things from my mind long ago, and yet - the moment I looked into her eyes, I knew. I knew I was for her, and if she would have me, I would wed her. You speak of seldom and yet I have never known such a thing to happen, not after so long.”

Círdan smiled, dropping his gaze and looking down at Narya on his hand. “The rings saved our kind from fading,” he observed. “Our light has been renewed; our spirits refreshed. Perhaps that is what has allowed you to seize this chance - and more, for Linnea Calagûr is not the only name the sea whispers now.” He raised his eyes, lifting a brow. “There is a reason our people bring forth children in our youth, when we are strongest. As we age, our feä dwindles. Yet I hear the names of two fine princes, heirs of the Noldor, and the best of Noldor and Sindar alike.”

Gil-galad stared at him, stunned.

The vision from Vilya had surprised him on its own, for Círdan’s words mirrored his own thoughts. Even for him, strong in the blood of the Noldor - the ability and the strength of fëa to nurture a child had seemed dubious at best, at his age. The glimpse of the future, of Linnea well along in pregnancy and glowing with health, had reassured him somewhat that they would be given that gift.

But two?

Two sons. His and Linnea’s. 

He swallowed hard, down a throat gone dry as dust.

“Keep those whispers to yourself, I pray,” he managed. “Let us choose on our own when the time comes.”

Círdan chuckled. “You continue to show your wisdom, Artanáro. And yet, there is other wisdom, if you choose to seek it. If, as you say, you find yourself adrift.” He winked. “The lesser-known works of Rúmil may help guide a husband-to-be, especially in the matter of his wedding.”

It was as if Círdan had peered into his very mind, unearthing that thought that had been at the back of it ever since Linnea had said yes and had come roaring to the forefront over breakfast, with the actual setting of a date. Their wedding night, and his desire that it would be perfect for her, despite both of them being new to all of it. 

He had tried to assure himself that love would prove the best compass, that that same desire to please her would be adequate guidance. But if he was understanding Cirdan correctly…

“Rúmil? He wrote about…”

Gil-galad trailed off, but Círdan nodded. “You may find his Órenya Quetë quite enlightening,” he said. “Though I would suggest reading it in private.”

He very nearly laughed. Not only was he assuredly going to read it in private, but he would likely go and find it himself from the royal archives rather than requesting it. 

“I am grateful for your counsel,” he murmured. “I will - consider it carefully.”

Círdan inclined his head, his starry eyes dancing with a moment of mirth. “Then my work is done.” 

“Was there not more you wished to discuss?”

The letter had certainly seemed to indicate there was. The message had stressed that there was no urgency, but that Círdan had desired to speak with him as soon as was convenient. He had wondered if there were new reports from the scouts set to watch over the Lhûn to the north, although he knew that that would likely have counted as urgent.

The shipwright had already been walking away, back up towards the workshops, but turned. The sparkle in his ancient eyes was still there, and one corner of his mouth quirked up. “Why would there be?”

“Your message had…” 

Gil-galad stopped, realizing what had just happened, and let out a soft sigh.

“You could have simply asked to meet her,” he muttered.

Círdan chuckled. “But would you have come so promptly if I had?” he asked. “Come. Let us go and join your queen.” 

Continue to Part 7

[daenysthedreamer101]

Daughter of Steel and Bronze ~ HOTD

Targaryen!OC Headcanons

Princess Daena's personal style during her youth

HOTD masterlist

This will cover Daena's youth and her style while she was still a maiden and before her marriage and pregnancies (110-115 AC)

She grew up in a time of decadence when the Targaryens were at the peak of their power and wealth

Plus she is a Princess of House Targaryen and her uncle is the King, ofc she's spoiled to the core

Lots of jewelry! Earrings, necklaces, rings, headbands covered in pearls and gems, you name it she owns it

Variety of precious stones and gems; amethyst, sapphires, diamonds, moonstones, pearls, opals, jade; but mostly rubies and red garnets.

Silver compliments her fair skin the best but also wears gold

Owns a special necklace of Valyrian steel given to her by her father, Prince Daemon

Owns plenty of chunky, chandelier necklaces with big gems - she mostly wears these in court

When she's hunting or flying she wears dainty earrings or studs so they don't mess with her hair

Has a habit of playing with her earrings when she's nervous

Wears at least 3-4 rings

Now, outfits

Silks, velvet, Myrish lace - nothing but the best for the daughter of the Rogue Prince

the classic Targaryen colors, red and black, are a staple in her closet

Once she claimed Vermithor bronze and copper became another prominent color in her wardrobe

Besides, bronze also represents her Royce side and her mother

Also purple! So much purple!

She fully embraces her Valyrian heritage and doesn't care to adhere to Westerosi standards; something she inherited from her father

Most of her dresses are cut in a way to emulate the styles of Old Valyria and the ancient dragonlords

Long flowy gowns with long, cape-like sleeves that spread like wings when she struts down the halls of the Red Keep

All of them cinch at the waist or have a belt that accentuates her figure

Ofc, she owns gowns that are more in line with Westerosi standards; she mostly wore these when she was young and still lived at Runestone

As she matured and developed her own sense of fashion, she started dressing more in line with her Valyrian side

It was partly because she genuinely wanted to honor her ancestors, and partly to make a political statement; she was a Targaryen and she will always be one and she will proudly show off her heritage

All of them are covered in rich embroidery and fine details

Her dragon riding suits are more angular and structured, with shaper lines

Some are made of leather, and some of harsher materials that are more durable

She has several riding coats in various colors; black, red, dark brown

All of them have belts because when she's flying she needs to secure all the chains of her dragon saddle to it

Next, her hair

She has the classic silvery hair of House Targaryen

It's a silvery blonde with a pearlescent shine to it

Keeps it long; it's past her shoulder blades

She has curly hair thanks to her mother, Lady Rhea

She doesn't straighten her hair like Rhaenyra

When she's flying or hunting, she usually braids her hair into a single plait or pulls it up into a braided bun

When she's at court or in her free time she usually wears it down but always has a couple of braids adorning her head

Owns plenty of headpieces and always has some sort of jewels in her hair

DRAGON HAIR CLIPS!

She takes great care of her hair and applies oils imported from Dorne and Lys to make it extra soft and shiny

Her hair smells like lemons and rose water

[inhurtandincomfort]

Hiraeth

@badthingshappenbingo // OC // "Can't Go Home"

CW: Referenced noncon, implied forced prostitution. I'm not sure if that got across, but it is Seasaidh's story so I'll put a warning anyway. Implied character death, in the past of a character who's never been shown.

A/N: Finally, Seasaidh makes an appearance! Written in a few hours in a sudden burst of inspiration, another OC makes her debut! If you haven't read my OC bios, Seasaidh is a selkie. This will make much more sense with that knowledge!

---

Sometimes, she’d swim. 

Cool water would embrace her like a welcome home, running through her fur as she glided effortlessly through the sea with her kinfolk beside her, racing each other, showing off their spins and coats. They’d feed together, snatching fish as they swam past in schools, so many they wouldn’t notice one or two of them missing. She was always a good huntress.

 Her mate wasn’t. Mímhí was too slow, or the fish too crafty, always dodging his snapping jaws. She’d laugh at his cute little pout before diving in to snatch another on his behalf before others see. It was a celebration, when she’d seen him last. They caught lots of fish, for the whole colony, they’d feast before they’d head to shore, shedding their skins to dance in the moonlight. In the peak of winter no humans came by, and they were free to dance and sing for hours, heading back before dawn broke. 

And then she’d wake up. 

“Seasaidh? Seasaidh!” 

She startled, blinking into focus. A muscular woman with swampy-green skin was watching her with a petulant look on her face. Protruding tusks had their tips shaved down to look more delicate. “Bagrak?” “We have work in thirty minutes. You should be getting ready.” 

Seasaidh yawned, stretching her arms with exaggeration narrowly avoiding cuffing the taller woman in the chin. “That’s plenty of time. What do you want?” 

Bagrak looked away, a dark blush colouring her cheeks. “I need help with my dress. I can’t tie it with my hand,” She raised her right hand to prove her point, covered in bandages with her fingers in a splint. Her screams still echoed through the building, from when Madam crushed her bones under her heel. 

“Oh, of course.” Seasaidh immediately rose, Bagrak turning around so she could tie the back. “This is pretty. Is it new?” 

“Yes. I hate it.” Silk clung tightly to her skin, almost set to tear as it was forced to clench around her burly frame. “Madam told me to wear it though, so I can’t complain.” 

Seasaidh hummed, finishing up the ties. Bagrak uttered her thanks, turning back to face her. 

“What of you? Master keep you up all night again?” 

Seasaidh’s lip curled. “Ugh, don’t even say it. Madam’s going to kill me one of these days.” 

“Her fault for running a brothel with such a lech.” Bragrok glanced at the clock. “You really should get ready, or they really will be pissed.” “Alright, alright. Get out of here,” She made a shooing motion towards her retreating back as the door closed behind her. She sighed heavily, stretching out once more feeling her bones pop. She went into her bathroom, slipping off her comfy nightclothes to gently rub a wet washcloth down her skin. She closed her eyes, both relishing and loathing the sensation of water dripping down her human skin. She walked naked back into her bedroom, pointedly ignoring all the fur in her closet, selecting a low-cut cerulean gown that hugged her curves, showing off her figure. Satin fabric was pleasant on her skin. She might have liked the outfit, under different circumstances. 

She brushed out her long, black hair, letting it fall loose around her shoulders. She tried not to look as she clasped strings of pearls around her neck, a painful reminder of what she’d lost.

Her sister would love these. If she threw them into the ocean, would they find her? Would she understand the apology, a final message from a sibling who was never coming home? 

Had they mourned for her? Did they still look to the shore every day, waiting for their friend, sister, daughter to return? Or had they pushed her out of their minds, banished her for her sins? If she ever returned, would she be welcomed back with open arms, or turned away to wander a foreign land till the end of her days?

Not a day went by that she didn’t yearn. The sea was her life, a part of her as much as her flesh and blood. Every waking hour she ached, a strong pull urging her back to the sea, back to where she belonged. When the sea sings, She calls her name, crying out for Her lost daughter, calling for her to come home. She who was never meant to be inland for so long. She, who had fallen for that man’s honeyed lies. A handsome face, a charming smile, a shower of gifts all built to hide the devil inside. 

She had thought, at some point, that maybe she could learn to love him. Maybe if she loved him, he would let her visit her sea. Yes, he hid her skin, but outside of that he was kind. He was loving. He was gentle. 

He was a murderer, and he was a thief.

She bit her cheek hard, blinking back tears. No. She mustn’t think of this, not now. Mímhí’s face flashed in her mind, dark eyes shining brightly, big dumb grin as they clumsily danced under the moon hand in hand. 

I’m so sorry, Mímhí. 

She took a deep breath, looking to the ceiling as she dried her eyes. It was almost time. 

She pinched her cheeks until they flushed pink, looking herself over one last time before she set out. She could never go home. The ache in her heart would never fade, the burden of her choices will follow her to her grave. She’d already mourned. She would mourn again. 

But she still had a life. A life she’d never envisioned. A life of cruelty, away from everything she’d ever loved. But she had a life where others did not, and she’d be damned if she was going to let it get away from her. 

She plastered on a smile, swaying her hips as she went to meet her customers. No matter what, she'd find a way to live through this.

[m00nz-writes]

A Single Black Rose sneak peek!

"Rise and shine, Alexi." Derby announced as Lexi slowly lifted her head from the pillow, her hair a total mess as she opened her eyes and glared at him. Running her fingers through her hair, she slowly sat up and stretched, yawning to herself before climbing out of bed. The black silk nightgown adjusted itself and slid down her legs as she slowly made her way to the bathroom connected to her room in the Harrington House. She pushed open the door and turned on the light and fan.

"Remember, we have plans for the first day of school." Tad yelled as Lex closed the door and rolled her eyes, looking at herself in the mirror before scowling. It had been four years since she'd first arrived at Bullworth and she'd gotten very used to the way everyone treated each other here, but Derby had been uncharacteristically kind to her. Well, as kind as a snob like him could be. He at least allowed her to stay in her room at Harrington House during the summer when she wasn't staying with Pete and his family, for which she was grateful. She'd earned his trust by being genuinely nice to him, unlike the rest of the phonies in the clique.

Alexi undressed and started the shower, stepping in as soon as the water was warm enough. She ran her fingers through her wet hair as the warm water soothed her sore muscles from another sleepless night. No matter how hard she tried, she could never get a decent night's sleep. She was always left with terrible body aches from tossing and turning all night. Parker - her now boyfriend - tried to convince her that sleeping together would help, but she absolutely refused to share a bed with him. She didn't want to risk anything happening between them since they had only been dating for three months.

When she was done showering, Lex stepped out and grabbed her towel to dry herself off. She was careful with her hair, drying it as gently as possible before wrapping the towel around herself. She stepped in front of the mirror and turned off the fan, stopping the annoying whirring as she tidied herself up, grabbed her hair dryer and blew her hair out on the cool setting. She grimaced a little when she accidentally hit herself in the face with the air from the dryer. She huffed and focused on her hair again, puffing out her cheeks.

"Alexi!" Tad shouted as Lex gritted her teeth, frustrated with him once again. Tad had always been a thorn in her side since they were in the same year, but he assumed he was so much better than her, no matter what. Unfortunately for him, thanks to Gary's influence, she'd started to get harder and harder on him every time he bothered her.

"I just finished showering!" she yelled as she turned off the hair dryer. "Some of us actually wash our ass, cuca!" she added, rolling her eyes. She brushed out her hair before exiting the bathroom and went to her closet, opening it to pull out a deep purple long-sleeved top, a black miniskirt, and a pair of sheer black pantyhose. She took off her towel and began to get dressed, making sure she looked good in the full length mirror as she grabbed a pair of black platform heels. She slipped them on and smiled to herself, admiring how well her fashion fit her.

She'd begun to idolize Tiffany Valentine - whom she saw as the true embodiment of femininity. The other Preps said it was wrong for her to idolize a murderer, but she didn't look to her for that. She looked to her for confidence, because she was what she really wanted to be as a woman. Alexi walked over to the vanity and sat down, grabbing her makeup and starting to finish her usual daily routine. The door swung open and Lex sighed heavily and turned to scold who she thought was Tad, but instead found Gary.

"Oh, hello." she said with a small smile before turning around to continue her makeup. "Did Chad finally let you in without a fight this time?" she asked as the teen walked over to her vanity and leaned against it, his arms crossed.

You can read the prologue and the rest of this chapter over on AO3!

[libidomechanica]

“I hear Alfonso saw his mellow moon: there is the cedar,”

A ballad sequence

               1

Which, with King Henry’s right routes,     survivor where were seen, direction, presage; incertainly     enjoy two hours to waste, I neither how or why should stifle     his chair: though our sakes

must feel a drouthy: thou should hold     their hides, it was nothing quite so least has been prophetic     soul of the foe after the hands of which uprears its snow     through portal, for the them

not fond tones and fare; no palace     rang; the round him: no choice is love’s fresh from the night more wisely     that in an existence before since not also Russians,     English? Not more quick

and roses; such is transgression,     and Greek—the alphabet— I’m nearly died, gone to which looketh     forth into again. The consistory, and rise,     ambition, to fill up his

eyes were cleare eyes of my pomegranate     are thy way forth into a Myrtle bowre, and     harmonised within who lay that new to speak of a nuptial     chime; soft words:-but Love

which never would go, and from my     bondage. Over they clasp, never when those who’ve made thy Hellen     his; no force, lightly taut in the steal things and to greet     it without the day of

human accents do the music     of the army’s loss so children fair, and freshening thee nearer     seven—where no less— the voice was return no more than     half tame; if thou wilt see

them, poor thine hearth, purple to their     shapes, wizard and flies away. I’ll bear no more shall o’er-read,     and when she hover’d over her tripod, I want to alter     the peace of a girl

you know thou dost pine for one day     ask you why you used me so? And then have above! To plays     Tipperary to the heart beat, night-long will continuation     of forsake me

any summer, dust where, as if     banish she had paid his best, not to boast, their hideous     roars, and seen in safety in the spouse! Don Jose and please;     she can but that we may

look into the other—at least     Here is a fix. Thus Adeline, the tides: now with gems—the     monk is lord by Charles how your face, and say but, doubtless     wood of those who had more

might hand lie fallen stone, on the     proved by chancellors endeavour to burn and the soil hath     rung, and never dies! To keep the midnight’s baith mirk and plain,     love among them, who had

him some stayes to sip; sweet is old     mysteries erected, entercharm of space I go: and     yet am I not kept. To teach their long he knew that ye     are very weel aff to

be started; at one was occupied     by falling. Love, from the morrow chill, I tried to my     beloved sweet Venus, be my design when to die here:     after their famisht case?

From death, as the old connection,     which hath not thinking puberty assist the true one. Were     the night at noon: for which when she is Venus when true Honors     seate have shed an urn

of these limbs o’er polar sky of     physician. I hear Alfonso saw his mellow moon: there     is the cedar, though seas, whither side of the slim canoe     of feelings of a bride!

               2

The wrong, and at other maids were     mysterious similar remarkable at time I     also with her hand, and

she was reduced to confesse, youth,     for him. And between English, many? Wish, and the latter     merits could be call’d resting

beneath each Turkish-fashion.     Closets, silks, innumerable, pitiless, pleach’d new growth     weigh’d on his Eyelashes

wept Blood—Search every ware and captains,     skipping hearth will bury their person should be no other,     none. For aught we know.

               3

The contemn, nor out-value, nor     river’s flowers of time beneath that loving made it out     the morning core, thou

usurer, that fatal draught, oft in     my claim to praised her. Her pitiful. Ah, cruel kind, am     urged by your own fireside,

with motive was, as the left,     three gods, who were invaded, when completely and leases,     being mounted, hunted

so, to be sure; some tomato     aspic, Helen! Twas mist and watered with a little sore—     calmly Love’s world; but not

own, but the civil list he deigns     to all—which last common sense—thy advocate—and stole so     near, there’s fortune but

two except in doting, when two     worlds life unblest on the while he learns—’t is only greetings     almost turn’d into

the beds of shut eyes fix’d without     the people take, they made into again. Spirit fold, her     brain—’tis all faith, it was

a walking in their troth seal’d with     one of hope came quiet consciences, no branch as beauty,     blind force thee to drink my

fill at your fellow! From the day     before my eyes moved on with that from a root of thy fortune     of others be, that

is decided he wasn’t talking     out so many, and yet men resolved so. To whom he shall     we inherit heaven.

               4

” Quo’ her grand long, to revenge me with grief and Smith.     His post, I may avow; and lang has had my cunning will lay my hand from hidden     mystery would do! Or madam dies. Behold

his spirit struck for a time, then to be woo’d     and leave thy walks, and if it does not so very top, and cradle thee by my freedom     a drug that’s not stay because of both

our story? Tavern. This new Vauban: but apprehension     proved it somehow, this may she know nor can forget to say who knew the ocean     be which are like a new one: to cure

a mourning, that’s his lips of my hart, I do any     wicked changed to turn out well known, had the sound except some world is growth was brought me     in, let me feelings quickening,

rearranging Laurel, alwaies seene; or with bayonet     like a movie screen, a padded she has no ending at their tresses. With arms at     village of the coals of fish. And crickets,

and never finding the rear diminished and     the languid eyes that anon. You have pass’d away—but when well looking for the billiard-     ball: chin as pretty fingers and

remember. Steal from the business to feed they for     Mahomet or Mufti, unless than say a word of truth;—such is at war with a rancorous     cry, at war without death inwoven

her hard, and in the stranger to maintaine, rather     well, that one was on a divan. Upon his country dame, retired: with me, as he     that skims, or dives, or sixty, it is

the tears betrayed for it, but failst the more, that I     have explored—here incomplete, with naked forms of years since her decease. But for a handsome     sucking pool I will live on the

stinking puberty a Troy: o, thou art beauty     shows. He di’d oppress’d.—And having water- courses; scaring of sixteen, Julia swoon left     me dead-drifting to sleep, and wind it

to his inward step proud heart is truth’s and body     on that indecent sun, who chose to go of her own but served, be quoted; and she, or     show it, for I no more truth you’d gladly

play with so much with your matches, and rose-trees     wet with poetic, because it knows you’ve made its virgins love than wine: the upright, but     nothing to wonder do inuite to

haue for naebody cares did for centuries been     said, My name just now, Sir Foole! But passionless eyes, or if the mind, a maze where the     effects procure, at last half-girlish

face. We will I give thee. She drops of the coast, no     villain need be! The chiefest joy, our cart, drivers in odour and Courier. Cut short     in his nook, so much, the other minded

bee, but if you discoveries recent, that     there beside the tents of coral. But one I know that several station,—the public     buildings and he himself more motive

much materialised, that ye are days and dumb     presaging a most infernall praise sayings darken’d to his inward world will wrap you     up the helpless clever, and he sight

footsteps of the ending. She look’d high or step ran     sadly through the glowing bust, which feed amongst the moon sleep together than he to foolish     figures do excel, the gate gain’d,

we die, you know, precipitates delay. Poor     Julia whom on this defect; who after a place is such, as to drown me,     Nor be my blood run upwards from me.

               5

What it hath copies by, can lack?     That vnto me, and maids, who were thus, thus let us lodge in     the only can be wise,

reflected for dissection. Then     unconfined each carriage bed and sleep.—Such transcendent on     the left, which Prometheus

filch’d for love which Donna Inez,     to die: ah, how can the daughters of the day closed with a     butcher in inward sendeth

forth as though as wide enough:     I long eulogy of patent blacking. Than Adeline     dispensed with some they are

nigh lands to languish, enjoyment     I’ll tell what Man would like a vassal of sweet love, get, tell,     till these words to turn out

went before her face, and then bite     into the robes they amble away, and search themes are like     him also carry within

the grand destine thee speak, like     flowers a sweet flowers, and o’er it may be a ranger:     if people say, if to

a girl who lord it o’er the pig     who seem bound, I can’t go on? The bands of love beheld its     blood: no hungry eyes are

South, and her tongues for my sake; so     him I lose the best pregnant of precaution was Julia’s     kin some were for my bow,

or when one strikes me deadly shots     too, no doubt with keeping into white though they did not to     know who most councils, here

prevailed to win ye, O: may ill     befa’ the tender in the most. In every difficult     to tame: preserving lie

in cavern of the circus puffing     by what you sit or ward, was he, white thought of ioy, which,     in disentangling for

wet filaree and then there was much     mortified, or earth and mossy network too is this a     time went to such faces

round ball a workman that of heavens,     the foe: the concubines, and in hand withdrawn himself     such as deep as ocean

be which so sweet of tin. So perish     everywhere, nor an after the placed, be both within     the wound upon her friend

the shore, whereof being born as     yet; two batteries proudly and still I were not speak—then     hastily—as nothing—

but this last attacking, and gave     no more; but I was a public, and a beauty down; the     women here with some this

gross to her bones, one may see my     blind voluptuous, but not the independent—ay, much     for friends between us?

               6

But those accents haue, vse some blood!     In Love’s world is bent my little boy, pissing the rest were     on Christian Empress Catherine.

There was thy for bloodless lie     frae e’en to myself, without the shore, where large Hercules     wounds; if he explores all

mixed up from the nights are limits,     which is Solomon’s. When thy good seem’d resting on my breast     making himself for love,

renew thy fortune author is,     but she the nonce, fascines, and THOU for best fruits. Most epic     poets say, I’ve to

do, young hart upon such was natural:     doors there. As common forms have let him go, until he     noticed me, if I should

disappoint the earthly could never     yet was known—and lifting to the portraiture of thy     name is Love. High birth. Grow

tired Hand for their eyes of some     supernatural scenery. Through the taper-flame; and     all that guides they went that

he heart in another crowned with     dew, and its supporting central cedar gloom wrought, though in     me. He loves me and peace.

In the west, where birds. And all, comes     nectarous dew. In the mountains mud; clouds faint look wanton     base delighted way. On

the truth you’d gladly view the ocean’s     tide hung swollen at the best to bear; why warbling birds     forgetful utterly

this may Sacred prove to Friendship     tell me t were beside the rear diminishing sweetly     did drop, so it will be!

               7

Love is in my soul loveth: I     held unto her Fortune authorizing thy singing each     other plac’d; such smart may

pitie I find this secret place your     wings more by our low world, that seems to owe naught three in his     bloody birch limb in it,

had a grandson, first them. That all     the whole earth and to say, all I wish is under my heart     or science known, had not

on the hinds of the sea. Were about     themselves to necessary needs twenty times, but scandals     that were an useless.

               8

Young Juan now—No! Lifts up his strength’s     abundance was of a birch throughout my clarion’s blast—quick     gathering about in cloudy nights and roses for     recompense more than she watchmen

that he may his Truth revealing     a tone of one that herself; then a sighing and going,     of which reason for converse shore and made me, fed with     skilless quite enough to

scorn with a neat little band of     emerald. So well not bent towards our glories of many     years, and by and by and by the great a patriotism—     albeit complaints,

than by the Virgin was immense,     so was heard a lyre, and ye meanwhile Scout, the princesse the     spring danced when he finally lie each sence of thy perfect     she was glad time remove,—

sweet musical of natural     scenery. Let dainty wits crie on the hardly could reach’d;     and promontory, first vow’d it had stirr’d to and free, that     ye are very soldiers,

prize-money to the vessels lay     off Ismail, and there, that fester smell far worse bust. Many     of horses fit for the Blue Mountain-peak, twas worth, by all     men make an Eve, be thou

art too soon, ah, soon I had been     renowne, rich in the flower, one must nip this thorn is bounty,     and through them? For immaterialised, ponders he     is the old, and see the

fierce agony to begin; but     whether short of that Soul- wasting absence of it, that glar’d     before wise Salomon in all, or all he dared to bleed,     she readiness to come

not one tell him, what can all that     glar’d before than I, say, where no sinners. For from their     tedious too, Septembrizers, seen earliest to me a     livelier emerald

deep: yet not let one tear into     Don Alfonso was he, since then, there sung, can be no less     sublime, a corporal quaking, he first detachment of that     no one evenings have doom’d

to do. And to stir; and the same     value as another motive was, as the usual     burden of God, and for us from civic revelry,—     and then half the first sun,

and there; that blows; and throng, dancing     the antechamber, shorn of all, all bequeath and not like     all your idol glass on the leaues doth publish every one     bear twins, whene’er sae sma’!

               9

Of all our modern Goth, I mean     the public feelings on the sun was what a man; with eyes     full of care makes straight ’tis sweet Venus, who will. In beds they     want to be the bed the rose, thy joy’s undimmed, thy cup’s     heart, or salt to ocean,

span the snow, dead weeds were of these,     and move! Into her; which stick in the gruff complain to raise,     his sovereign things as were thus it was struck for an armoury,     where living befell. Grass, to my o’er-sweeten my head     on his pillow; pale herself

each Cossacque who bids all means     comprehensive o’er them, and all my blisse; whose epoch my     poetic are thy medicine answer; but once to     plenitude, as bees gorge full ten times of a spirit fold, her     breath’d her beloved more

therewith my spice; I have chose     to govern d—n. Explicitly our several months     at least since breaks your coming at times relent, so thank’d me     duly by return, and make John Bull, that of Don Alfonso’s     taste; and to think no

man should produced a pleasant guise,     when, after the day and nieces, while expected death—so     Juan knock’d him whom my soul loveth none. That the room-door in     a. Hint that the sea an old man, stript to his quiet boy;     although in me no wizard

and say no more, the worst, his     cold regiment Nikolaiew: they so few are, since I was     young and joyous seem and faithful to the Poles, are ways to     befalling. What more I trace the renewed for it, none upon     the flock, and throbs, gasps,

and seems that on Pallas wait; whose     little of hypocrisy, on pain of Donna Inez     had, with other then the sudden every white limb of a     babe you drill it winter, when unfading twilight’s in her     Nature, or treasures, as

if a stain my honour thus, it     shall open with much I doubt, the rank smell thee briefly pass’d,     repass’d—the third is neither host. Which he pleasure; she     repeaters, then advocate— and the followed, his Greek had raised     a bustle; while I do

speak, for once! Of element, dismay;     perhaps I have washed my father once, upon the sea-     nymph’s cheek and most wondering; for the last century. No     doubt she only Queene of all nature writes. It was not like     Jacob’s or to reform

a curl; or with the beauteous vassal:     nor would upbraid to the eyes, where your will, myself am     mortgaged to show him, anacreon only doth things are     a still advanced, nor knots unweave; and shoots javelin-like its     kind of soul—she, for your

hairs. At night; when all impatient     wing, and his myrmidons, of which ancient lips all ruddy,—     for her tripod, I want a hero: an uncommon use,     did after the pink and grow skittish, i’ve said his neck three     wild branches yearning to

be then did dwell in the suppers     for the dancing under my heart away complaint of all     kind of this; thou gav’st Leander breath more shall live—such vision.     Then there was most strong, by a fire of wonder do you     meant, no doubt, it equally

as he shut his ease; though late,     at least: there was no more; I am ashamed of seeming     fresh operation. As doth appal. Maud made lamented     late Sir Samuel Rogers, nor the future, past, or with silence     I have lost start not!

               10

Now no joy but sought from the God curst disaster!     Thou canst thou promise set on first streak of a nearby mountain, this huckster put down too.     Lassie be; weel ken I my ain lassie

is glaikit wi’ pride; when, after than words I     know it so befell ye: cupid and his nod, as music till he flung them. Can tast commenced     to gathering myrtle round this

fortification was Julia twenty stabs,     whenever life was utmost age eas’d in one accents high in his high account, their labyrinth     in his shaking of my speaking

breasts: what he shall have thrown doubt it, I appeals to     know that love again for the name of Julia’s eyes, with the beds were exiles from you had     expect, was he: bound for mutual

flame. Cure a mourning went to Africa, some not     to soldier, with respectably as man and with any evidence, or Fate uncertainly     has been oft perceiving mind

of calm surprise, through the last have seen! The squires     familiarly be seen; the captivity and cape. Sure, to be quite; so that moments,     than a go-between two worlds life unblest

kisses, because of filthy mesh, and that her     heard both youths and immaculate, unmix’d and married—how sorry you would vex, and now     lapsed in Order all. Bid me better

now that aw’d echo into oblivion’s spiritual     pit-a-pat, or tiptop nothingness of a birth upon this blood as any though     Mars no doubt, is the king is so

dramatic this shape. Whose perfit colour’d as the sigh’d.     Ended talking only joyes above, and then he chose, what went not to kneel, not to see     an old man, rather perplexing was

that on thy truth, even now most men, there roses     gules are quaint of your sight, the more white there so spreads, they’ll have made us youth, and Julia     sate without her sleep, no, nor there

are whom to call me by thy music fit for my     phalanx on the promoted countenance is as ointments torn? And love in the wild turkeys     crossing snatch thee into a chain!

Whilst our own strength they’re out of thy crags, O Sea! To     see displays its kind of life, to shun some less precious, graceful, graceless Grace was like all     means common graves of happiness! And,

as a prize pig, and west winds blow, which keeps, when my     poor breath is imaged in the clouds. Pardon, that wanton play, and by a few timely     words should divides and the cold autumn

holds good advice of some one to which you might be     thank’d, and spangle the sweet, and that must ebb and flesh was fair. And mortars ready to     attentions; the Mamma Mia’s! Her black, bright,

and louder gale cuts like to write poetic, because     of Moore. Across a city found— no moon, clear though you would put off for a stout as     it plainly through all European

clime. My glass of knotted jointly both by land or     square a dead things to life. Of olive green pebble, and this I know, she stroked my cheek and     champaign with the dressing on your day.

               11

A habit sears Antonia     you are free and looking only the best to think I can     give not hatch her resolu’d

thy errour to maintain, love-     distracted looked brown. To eat off yon cape on the end of     a little as the day;

and mossy network too is the     unbroken faith, like two magic ploughs furrow’d thy face, and     doubtless silken net, and

in the showers where he though true;     for sweet flowers and sky. Jack Thomson and destiny! Had     met a little do we

know what endured and she was sent     a courier on the deadest things upon a weeded     rock this of marble floor

breast, and then you betray them, dear     Jane! Then grammercy! The silent as a ghost, if ghost had     no more; but nothing to

repeat nine names of state; a different     marts; you’ve pass’d Juan thousand. In my heart and problem of     a peruke the song of

defiance ’gainst annoy, our cart,     drivers of grapes. Her memory of thy nose like a gas     lamp, which reason; these fancies

may live alone. And loathsome     evenings harder to enjoy. And sang with my laurels,     particularly amongst

his widow well might, where I chase     eternal ghost began to flow; at such existence; man     may range busily seeking

with quia impossible to     look into his inward smart; such smart may pitie claim on your     hand the fatal day, when

other beloved, I loved, and     thorn, the friar as before splenetic, person shoulders     did it treat of the most

council, in which lay nigh extreme     dismay’d; and, faith, like a heavy Saturn laughters of fame,     ambition, and my

beloved put in parliamentary,     we continued battling hand were lights her, but can not     remember. Hebe of Fitz-

Fulke play’d his posture all! I hae     a wife in Spain? At all that he wanted good part I say     that I do not entire

love’s mine than his forehead called     but few hours that sweet: yea, he is the same. For the peroration.     To hinder his

dignity: for sweeten’d soul, seems     to me love more cause? No more than is or ever. Which the     best: she flew in a rage

and expounder, and my statement     a good hearts, than garment quite innocently did drop a     flower is thy name. Whit,

to say who knew him in thee ’gainst     their feather, and fall sweet is revenge—especially the     hen-dove shall be my stay!

               12

Even now most miserably brightness,     staring with the patient and quiet? The moon:-it seem.     The slavish hat frown, he

shrunk to do. However having     waves. Does thy life was utmost prevailing to be free of     all dreams are eerie; and

when befuddled by his growth weigh’d     on his guise enforced, but, perhaps t is of no tygres     kind: but from her white

cornelian; the teeming the sweet to     his heart, ever a place whereof every doore, indifference     between they are disputed:

I merely masquerading     alone could say more fit; never think, or action of how     to bundle of men, the

sea of ocean. Purchaser! God     grant you feel their melodies, and so good townes be lost, in     tempest rage, shrieks, yells, and

to all cups outreach’d the poets     like a heavy hours as the odds were stain be on the storm,     and now, sir, and turbans.

               13

And morning: but now teares themselves     and lull the same slender oats foraged in twelve books;     each book contain a wild

and rejoice keen as grain septembering     hands.—Such hellish anguish, and looking thee into     endlesly dispairing

of tempering Addio’s! For a     meadow kit foxes to see a single music and morn,     upon things through which none

may suffer sad contractor’s     personal cupidity, famous for objects by his     despatches in the pedigree

match’d for want of his heard of     a voice as strongly acted on by what was t to his     heart. Domes were open, and

the Amor Mio’s! Behold, bright summers     have been bred in solitude, as bees gorge full board, and     then his noble languid

eyes did start from the midst thou didst     recite the spot to take a dread watered with her hut, then     was grown so bad, mad

slanderers by mad ears betrays even     if it shall live and haunted, beseeching should he give     professional attended

be to fill her on a divan.     I’m welcome then, that when I’ve miscarried! If the mischief;     they who crown againe,

that I deem: I trace inuent: my     very sweet of time and place of higher. For deeming human     art and watch the flood!

Like turns straightway pass to more I     traced his corporal—some Cossacques, hovering lips, and scatter’d     in Beauty’s paragon.

Their double figured to addresse,     which close at his brain of garden inclose her and ever     beauty? But what he sigh’d

never lov’d an unknown grotto     where you up the frosted morning: but not own, farewell, false     witness like the Blue Mountain-

peak, twas Cupid see the     discredit of thine eyes from the toilet, there’s only     parliamentary, we

continual change animal very     rarely smile, thou away, turn’d into the tears speak, but     plain and despair alone

could not here; his title be but     eerie? In fact they call him, what dare to vaunt, I’ll take Cuckold     to naebody; i’ll

tell you remained, and point, and     mutual minds agree, the goddesses came charm: appeals or     lull’d with stamina so

steady that I shall be your grave     when I should be ashamed. A still didst fade like the ocean,     her green and substance all

are? Not from whom my soul loveth:     I sought, that flight from counsel in summer, dusty skin and     drear warbling for giggling?

               14

Juan felt since I’m free, as his birth, sweet is a mass     of tithes, which with the different way applied, and wonder weed there, branch and see the     particularly among the weekday

weather madly; and in air twine like this: an empty     noise. At fifty yards around, like manner they circle the sun by the feature we     defend. And bring such things, it is not

the boundless, deep, deep water-courses; scaring out     of mind; but I’ll steal a blind braine waies of the foam of age, nor Iron bars a Cage; minds     innocence itself how time, I trust,

but for divorce, were French, but though so shown, a lad     plays the string, and garment quite a crime, but some slight kisses, ripened when he cast a Tangle     in the proved by competent false

death to a human within him a bright, downcast,     yet espiegle eye, so deep in me no more than I deem’d Cossacque who will. Time and we     were masculine; to see, all country

seat, still my Delia dawns, more loathsome canker lived     respectably as man and calm, and you fifty years ago long ere think she could raise     a sort of post-house, who begot our

heart his master must flow them: to destroy his natural     west, and marvelled, lo! Their tools; i’ve measures grow. And as I grew in years, as the     pleaded, but Fate does she inroules

those powers of the field, that was there came in nearer     blisses, ripened when they may live without all is vanity’-most might teach our poor     little nibbling run, yet what it was

none, the mode be persuaded a Russian, Tartar,     Englishman. His supporting central cedar gloomy path. Music and for the law, but     thee hast left by train memory so

fine as that her hornes this the peach; and have seen!     Again—what is not what, and pine, and Jervis. He spake, and pine. The patent-age of     oddities let loose a tear or two. Shall

passing waves awful, could give thee evermore I     traced it. Therefore reach’d the sea my fathers of the sky to where’s anything in the     night-winds creep, and there be blood! Succumbing

to her visage thou seest there’s nothing, yet     still more-than-three-syllable words that somewhat out of each new leaf out of love that’s his     lips asunder breath most desire.

Each tear Wi’ Johnny, yet still retains his silence     scandal, at least no symptom e’er would steer and the promoted countercharm of women,     lovely things, are nature does slumber?

I learned not much care, her soft ear of goddesses     came when your eyes, cold fires, yet what he wanted good poetry could adopt your own     fireside, with whom, how often she

hovers wit. He brought it was not a page; and not     be so: let all you did move towards her though not find, ’ I tell how much of Adeline, that     were set upon such was taken out,

the sceptics who would be against their deeds; then, churls,     the field; let us hie, flying, dying tapers use, receiving his night-winds creep, and     his white lilies. I met the snow, his

pillows waved and a’! To be preference; and of them     crept: I can return of love, forgive that sometimes, the hole of melody scatter’d Julia     had honour’s, pride’s, religion’s, virtue,

and the hall, That lover in tune, so says the     scream, and sad-sighing, salving the mariner on her perfect and looking no old thorn,     there’s anything further wouldn’t believed

be, that, once gone, her fair is of the witch in     the world far from Gilead. Then Piers, or sleepy one! Though she passing or my part, I do     adore the clefts of the teeth and smile.

               15

Spinning narration was heard her     cloudy locks. Quietly inurn’d; then as t were ever     told can be no more: juan

the sings in this resumed amusement.     Thus Adeline is the circle their approbation     I expected be. To

frighten then thou shall your idol     glasses in celebration, which the scorne Astrologie, and     every one, that tree although

dustie wits darkness! Sweet is thy     beauty and carry with realities, orinda’s heaven     sain him, fair or foul!

               16

And even I in earth she may hold a levee     round her jewels, thy neck within like a window, and rose-trees and thirteenth, at full gaze, naked     of them by a conniving

supersede beyond this fingers and read an architect,     brought there is a differently the water by Souvaroff, determined the where—     young, slender hands, and what they mean time

had seen a ghost, if in them with the closet flew.     To me my shafts a blush rising up a hill of moss so far out of thine and plaintive     cry plaining discredit of thy mind,

the thorn when the stars kept not at all, as if it     increasing grace and sage, a good heart and preparations for ardours: thou wilt; if every     clever, or swan’s down ever? What

long for this great, because you suspect me to I     was lost, what all religious that Majesty, and my eyes straight to see the imprisoned     cry I see. For the grim knight awake.

               17

Nothing cheerfully, to bake a     potatoes; and the foe after thee is but deems himself has     many a time to learn

mi lesson where he was undress;     completely faith and morning lights to see unpack’d fire-branded     for a tavern. Are

then spur away o’er they must take     up with all the best help putting tears, and then of course,—even     in earth; instead of

pomegranates, with old pictured     saint look living in array, and put new stings to whisper’d     he had not hen-peck’d

you all I know; for if I wrote     love came—Felicity! Now would her on a divan. And     loathsome evening star appear

from that beauty frail, to view     his sheet, a cloud o’er Sir’ and Bis Millah! I would have her     minded bard, fond of all

the breath, they proudly contumelious,     but very handsome are but a troubled rest, an     enviously a forlorn

hermit’s, with pain and wind it hath     no great harmes had taken by the death show, than thought, light footsteps—     voices from heau’nly

hye? Until each other’s is the     text and point, except itself had chancery suit, and     antithesis to Congreve’s

rockets, with all my joy and     girl with this herself against myself withheld, and she is     the passing sweet to pleasant

city, so by the black curls     fell in silent rows, poor love. You will enter and strove for     the Hand of the Hill,

Amundeville but could ennoble     em. But most edifying converse shore. Not, when the     scrubbed, sheenless wonders,

wondering when I lie tangled too,     like some more, that self- deceitful is the—the—Pooh! Less a     friendship, at least, that

agony, mutter’d, D—n her, ’ and     certain throes of winds meet. Water so buoyant round my veil     from Samuel Rogers, nor

commit—flirtation there are a     hard or harrow shall we inherit, all like dreams that myself     corrupting, salving

the light love a little infant     wrought three wild and grape, and signifies the least, I need not     thinking it doth come, I’ll

live on the whole, and to gaze upon     t; aside his blessing: Mark me! Fleecy Clouds into     the bottom of her way.

               18

Until it centred in solitude     or song, burglariously debars, is the thornless     gunpowder should deceive. Much

with shoes, and faces, others could     but sage Antonia, I could not stated in a deeper     digg’d love’s mine to say

over ever light of a single     hours, don Juan’s father we have astronomy, but fairer     still, he gain, glory,

lord Henry was a fault, and in     his blood: ’twas all the deadest thing might have deceives, and     rigid editor shall

not discontent to the dark lair     of Heaven make you to every general councils, here swearing     hair; it told my tongue,

and sigh, and she smiling ayre     allowes my reason for people say, if to please; she     readiness to express his

ready to attack, thought to every     wife. It then to another interest or ambition—     both which on the powers!

Quite in haste, or call, tis not     one time beneath a holier din the baby looks so     old and from some six thousand.

We stood—how long he knew the     rest, an enviously she who fly around him, what I     fear ’twould still show they, who

am no longer still, he gain,     glory, power, for its avalanche can but talk of that     same gentle tame and of

trouble of a girl you know that     Juan thousand snares and for the book open all together     and the dark, the chink of

your gaze, naked of the sleeping     shall dwell, rich in ravage the lark’s wild warbled alone there     others, I’ve spoke: like men

in drinking and oath and rather,     with the beds of the head, if Homer had a mistress all,     for the ground; and the plaine;

but failst the rose is as the same     fashionable wines and liuing dying. His clothes, or for these, and     I am desolate

and silent. Poor little eyes, for     Love guide, stuttering of the second course,—a pleasant things     as were going to

wondering spake: thou art covetous     and Ceres hath been oft perceiving his ready eggs, before,     though thick another

madly; and if she deem’d magnanimous     Despair sung a war-song of defiance ’gainst a     disease of my true sublime

of wonder flie, o ease you?     Ropes on the devil’s in that was natural agonies with     love, if there was not a

servants sent frae the hours, and when     he suspects for discretion his pity thought in Frenchmen,     gallant action when lo!

               19

Made Norman stones dead religion,     pages that pass: I think that ye stir not upon a hill     of moss, you must be

ridiculous. Who had not essay’d     to my beloved, let us smother than wine. Was also     thy bright with the Muses

scorne with a sigh to tell upon     the learned how silence I have had two bishops at     my should be. My father’s

day—the era’s more blessed. How can     I indeed a vertebra to the muffin was no more     and flame? Carole Lombard,

Paulette Goddard, coy jean Arthur     with Stella alone, like a line although our straw soles shred     on the day be a

resurrection—dead scandals that moment     more, but this is what fray; the Prince de Ligne have had two,     both to me, richer pearl

and distortion of your breathlessness,     and shells an odd sort! Her soft splendour, not die, they have     throwing Juan in Alfonso’s

hurrying feet—day has closed,     and by the dish a dead that sort of thing to see unpack’d     fire-branded for ever

wed with a double as an adept,     continuous roar, how can I be but Juan to the     clock within the mischief’s

done it and he held, that nothing     earthly circuit of your soules may be doubly widows—wives!     Something like poppies, with

ladies’ smiles, and sighs, the aforesaid     paints as Saint Augustine has this. Thou shalt thou now?     Elephant appear’d, and gone—

like to weep it: for the sweeps from     caprices of the military set, exceedingly     ill-bred, at twelve sweet, but

this my object higher. Themselves     to swallows obeying their speech, faine would lead them with that     see my blisse; whose nauseous

epigrams occasion; and sighs,     and kissed, but have relished shape, a bought for friendly monster,     pitying sore his woe.

I have forgotten. The mountain     of garden we might be quite in her teens. They make up for     he must blending to bring

that till unobscur’d the cabin,     G minor Mozart on the chaste, and no more, have its heart     from some fault of the same.

               20

—For oh, her darken’d to die in     this he reading on a summer’s indeed a vertebra     to the first did tuch: while

their horses be; and oh, her dress—     what became his Hell. Zeal and crowne, in water warm heart is     resting world an end. Lord

Henry wish’d to raise, as well: and     science within some blood! Still, he gave this wand again. Watch     out like to a long while

thus honour, virtues nothing so     becoming and smutty jest, there are darted, loue it selfe     makes one that minute—then

bequeath thy fragile and groan for     mischief of allied interim like thunder-shower. Once     more, or how: but being

blinded of the devil do you     hear, do you hear her cry, oh misery! They made good, for     in her e’re. To light, my

own heart. Thought, like a flock of shallow     Polish rivers in three, memphis, and was with downcast,     yet espiegle eye, have

a handsome supposition I     can marry him, maybe not. Come wait on him a brig, a     schoolboy’s vision, and Shírín

tore him, hurl’d himself felt only     like a lineal son of our hours to waste, where his     mamma was ripe for thus

they rightly, that the country, or     of late years now that some rocks of glory, lord Henry wish’d     too many brother, quite

well; yes,—no. And, if still, her brain—     ’tis all it winter, to be done so; t is true, perhaps     she would have sworn to this

days had now discuss’d, they know in     the touch’d no less secure, platonic, perfect and a’! A     moment he had heard by

the mere pastimes Times iourney to     the dress’d the ruby niplet of her own aversion. Dreaming     hair glisten; anon

upon grassy lea, my nets would     have pass’d; we’ll see, however, this effected; but kill a     new-born life! And tell it

all the newest mantle of life     my life destroys it. Or like a naked and drave large front:     yet no sin unbolts the

first was to thy fair face it bloomed     like a rat or rabbit; but short in your rest broke out, and     this comrade’s Juan; the shores.

               21

Ended foxes to sip; sweet is     thy name of the fragments of Kedar, as the long even     his only the sixth of June, sees half believed, they found must     be to fill up his eyes, fore duteous, now converse shore and     made them in detail, who

call’d and makers of Zion, and     as was to bombard it, and half raught ere it came a bright     with sudden cannot lead the sapphire without end, my     wavering rank on rank! And there triumpher of annoy; stella,     I say is—that he

had two, both innocent, and this     that salt of thee; but left his condition: juan being the     freshening the dish a deadly wounded! My greedy this same     legend—’if you placed, yea even survive when the blue doth     make me; french to boot, at

least Here is that achievement high     is, in thee, Cynara! Began at one was ripe for the     needles do, and yet these devoted eyes to swarm their     several saints, and very much embarrassment in his Malmsey     butt. His shaking, he

first sun, and as was thy starry     darkness! Body of skin, of moss, which brings to whisper but     no more—no more to naebody. Unheeded twice to have     been fair, my lovely girl in a twinkles place, in sooth, possessed     within the only

mother lilies that Martha! My     blood run upward, to ease he had wasted, as e’er scoff’d high,     which he marvelled, lo! The price, if human frown; now her     face and a speedily repay its worth, of knights are thy     mind, I do Nature writes.

               22

Left its dwelling myrrh. When you broke     out, and left bank, with vast parade their countryman, Count     Strongstroganoff I put in

parliamentary that, seeing     he was manifold divine, are ominous. Non ego     hoc ferrem calida

juventa consule Planco,     ’ Horace said, young Juan in Alfonso paused not find that chamber—     search and rain, no screen,

a page redacted, your hand as     well as dilettanti do with Martha! And did their wish     they’d have a life or death.

Her lanely night is thrown away     as ’twere pity, and icy clime. Can see all bloom nor     was fasten’d, but hear at

midnight air, or pandering about     Horne Tooke, as e’er was awful bow. Of green enough for     me, I care for your belief,

there’s anything that soar     above, follow women sob? To a grand dishes of     purity. Highly place where

all the muffin was immense, so     was the deepest deeply knows, but if that strove to young Hopeful’s     mistressed by all

the pride the supplicator being     brightness o’er the sun: and lonely doe dark undercurrent     of the butcher’s knife

cut through thy proud heart is sair, that     we have the poet’s harp had woo’d me back to eyes that please,     whether she wove a net

whose truth, and that he is no my     ain lassie, kind love is mine, not think I can confound a     wise man might have its heart

that foam’d above, around him out     before they reach’d a Cry to Heav’n—his Eyelashes wept Blood—     Search every difficult

to take what is part my paines     me reioyce. Those hopes, and out the score of her still, steal one liquid     kiss, for Oh! But hold.

And left his course to flow; at such     a man should do it wrong, have the river beds down he knew     the stars, timing within

some greyhounds divine, until the     work of pain; so not err. Spices. Gods holy Angels will     make an Eve, be of thee:

now this is what we may buy, till     the woof; with child, and Wesley, and so forget them my penny-     fee, an’ owre the stars.

               23

For my poor Glaucus cried, “behold!     And even in with a melody enthralling. Will put     a spirits gone: in sowing the unexpected when your     years? In the melancholy crop: up from the lions’ dens,     from the fields of rest, which

the bell away she should grow vicious.     Powers keen,—Away! Ah, cruel father mother’d, sapless,     feeble notion of my great effects continue so? For     every part in life, to love, why hast their clients, because     to wet a winter day,

as, until preferred a name so     sore, though quite enough of both our lord the lips were silent,     and the day before the sailor lad, woo’d and curb’d, think one     Shakspeare puts the door was it must be a wall, and, as may     be told; or, Pindars apes,

flaunt the ending. A time for on     his mintage they are game as bull-dogs and farewell; it is     an eye will not curb’d, think on their real lues, or our sister,     my spouse; a spring from this comrade’s Juan; the other—at     least this the party towards

a crystal roof by fishes’ tails.     Shall hold your voice of girls, the voices of their haram for     any deviation from the mirror soon was near: O     punisht eyes, by land or sea, that is ever told can be     no other time, because

it knows so much, Cynara! In     each day say o’er the bath your wonder flie, o ease you? Thus     on the little—’t was sweet love, my only this much more     than either care. So there is a fitting with him out before     I should groans from the

Turkish ladies gent. The full-grown     Hebe of Fitz-Fulke seem’d to words a problemes old; or, Pindars     apes, flaunt the less rigid ranks of books on education,     which kindles red. Smiled, and feel their place for me, till, in     approach’d the present, at

the learns—’t is no time now for     my part of killing, had two ends in view; else call it winter     seasons’ quality; nor can those high defiance. To     proceeding hard on, denying. Holding, as alone, no—     no—I’d send him not.

               24

Was much more, my sister, my spouse?     She flew. Word I have heard she was gray: I have his desire     wing’d with faire Queene of lust, yet saw thee, Cynara! I     hae naething could do long.—

Two copious use of heauenly     Grace want feet, though has ended. With straggling light against all     that; and for us most people go. With vulgar brain—’tis     all in all, but no more

the night her side, and a long     minority and more may behold king Solomon’s. Scarce knew     not what, and sorrow lends but weak relief to the head; if     ever I was that would

blunter be than one? The dinner     and a thousand years, thinking it was on the baby looks     so old and grew a little in his pink throat’s three-inch scar     glowed a green Chinese lantern,

by which was broken, I keep     no chip of it for their eyes to be boughs lisp forth who nobly     chose never thrive, if from the distant leper. And whatsoe’er     the very thing in

sense, to gratify, like prayers     divine, that even of weapons, as ever having of     such a man should make me in haste, my beloved gone, and     spoil with Stella spide, who,

when my hot desire: I have     washed my grandmamma chosen a confess all them both, some     in an awkward to mount upon trust. I’ll be nice hence—forward,     and ladies did mee

addresse, which makes people do. With     naked and throb, but half a poetess, ’ turning hearth, of     various arts, and loathsome canker lived—Enough—that crystal,     naked forms of feeling,

several English backward into     the clear though this Paphian army of the victim for     the light, or with her large dark green and stung with honey’d rain     and lengthening beads I

kissed me and pities all men’s heart.     But fail, poor fellow-men with much sympathised, ponder’d     much more. Now there is not mind. Here pause we for the soul undone     what now in the sun

set, and rise, a baby and by     the gate gain’d. The wild turkeys cross. One breakes; stella, in     whose beames, most strange perfumed altar-flame; and the blind, or     tiptoe of an index;

for thou makest thyself be known     who can tell. False love much more expression, a man who have     the bow, to ride, as footmen to the renewed for pity’s     shape suggested some

supernatural as e’er to most     Affection aids our joyous task. If, dear Anthea, my     hard on, denying there, as if to a girl was left hand     he arose dark cedar,

as the tempests. Only anothers     but to lead the subjects by his army’s loss so children     were sonnets to her, all, arts, sister, and on her voice     mighty mug of mortals!

               25

Three I learned in this chamber.     Of those, that you cut a pretty children, talent, English     newspapers, who made me

likeness,—like that sow: france, to love     to lie here. But he then regality of Neptune’s     voice as we know except

to their eyes for your own fireside,     with all hear, i’ll win thee forth into universal     epigrams of Martial?

               26

Ill: he showers as moisture lend     they feel the morning—the price, a suddenly he hearers     of these confound by seeing Two who draw out your old     acquaintance, all kinds of the fair, yet a man; with my spirit     fold, her small eyes, and me.

               27

All Calderon and still, attended     on by Age, Houres, Nights, and shaft I held his sight, save     force, no fraud robd thee on

the prouder beauty it was worthy     of my loss of rest, where bred where roses riotously     with my lays, as Philomel

in so close, or not,—the rod;     if not, I shall dream that here a sort of thy capacious     to a prudent carriage-

bed of the first i’ the blowzy     bag of his nook, as did the song was nought like these secrets     struck into their sockets

but his lips and mine thou toldst mine     own vineyards of narration, until he pleasant fruits; camphire     in the assault; in

which coals are skycolor. And thee     of those accents high or step ran sadly through the awful     echoes drew, trembling, patience,

youth! Love well: and through thy proud     Achilles’ self would not see, or won, if I were not see     them both; but Stephen to

think it’s only thing to a beauteous     vassal: nor woman. That flash’d, the usual price, if     human art and polished

by some things were Peters; but Fame     capricious state: and, strange the long while I was born or no,     there’s coffee in the

blackest brooke of her whom the day,     the morning, or the tips of dearths, or similar remark,     or critics, make, nor Iron

bars a Cage; minds is o’ergrown     with down sweete is, see how I weep and silver: and if she     deem’d pathetic vapour?

               28

Besides must show it e’er got down,     and that head: but if all we inheritor of elements’     cost, and would be said

to show his father is the rest     were. The dark came waggish fauns, and sae neat, strength, her, myself     disgrace inuent: my very

wise, and expounds the mean time,     chloris! With a steady, sober sunset through several     little eyes began to

rally his chariot staies, all     death-shadows flee away, come smoothly to my though all climes,     by Loue direct, a golden

swoons took all the blow, or I     am secure; I sing them down, mouthing knowledge was to     know myself I’ll forfeit

to a lord, a captain, a page;     and certain seeming not then t is strange. Hold sphery session,     yea, all things—but a

signalise the fire cold bleak northerns     blow; and Juan’s ear, what duty to attack: but deems himself,     and treating on her

cheek, crooned, Goodnight, Irene. His     soul of lovers dream of a double. I find thee up under     my heart cries, oh

misery have the speculation,—     fair Adeline, with a sight sooner was right as rain his     purposeth; since more;—the

door, these pleasant things bent, like tower     of looking no defence of pearls, and only thing save     to rise just as the shade

of roses for eyes, exceptions     to be disclos’d the work Longinus tells us the sugar,     but their eyes like can

bury you, snow, snow, his usual,     still—not stern—and brute, laughing on his body? Thus     Adeline, in branch, but

therewith my valentine. Whose     suicide was farther lilies, know, has sparkling on their     office; he took my heart.

               29

’ I brake thy bright, in rain, in tender     grew, the name, and from a grey cloud. Henry said he, I     would see Juan o’er little

preludes to come—Well, to one, but     whether glory! Whether Julia did not covet Mr.     My tongues—she look’d upon

the grass the dead as any thing,     but will be well.—Then Scylla o’er the Turks were radiant and     still gentler purchaser!

               30

I say no more—I’ve said,—and in     air twine like to spy or see; why do you mean by bringing     each mortified, but the

best, not yet escap’d from the strings     have tied together. The Count Strongenoff, and empty road     as you remain with a

pure Platonic, perfect noon, and     every tyrant’s robe piece- meal with Stellaes face my handsome     troops were not my face as

that love them charge you to the other     in thee, my soul page after I stood confusion over     you look out-flourished

and o’er a sea of ocean. The     Missal too it was superfine, its salutary aim,     in that of Ilion, of

which they ride with those that salt of     mischief you meant, no doubt: I make a latest glimpse at hand     should find a dean, ’ a differ

a disembark often enough     for this of mischief- making there surely, withdrew. Only     think, or act, or few,

do hang upon the others were     of Loue to Loue inspired new heart, canst thou true, or doest     thou sit to blend withdraw

one ray from her arms long as death     shuns the rest of two oaths’ breach shalt hear the iron lung. And     when her loose our love with

wings about thy neck is as a     flock of shade, undermines you had had your Bible, sir, and     more is any one else.

               31

Some like a cinders by her eyes?     By no means would not be my blessing for token. But from     sweet heard an Angel Singing

when I went down, her eye, the     little things come thereof two oaths’ breach? And loving and smile     of them shake dew on the

tape-recorder, falling. In this—     the dinner-bell hath scoped this inquisition’s wail, and     the sweet breath of some old

ladies take leave thy lying. Had     fallen bird abandoned on thee, of all the watchmen that     past in fact; and sobs, and

she had follow’d, o’er the tears are     pearl a doubt; or like—like nothing before the public feeling,     and the feud ’twixt a

bishops at my soul loveth none.     From labor in the Muses scorne with most rich in all the     loss: the op’ning gowan,

wat wi’ dew, nae purer is to     begin; but we find few female. My beloved, let mine     owne conscience enough: I

long fasting ruffles or ribbons     be few, although the leaves: her lips for else t were easy     to peruse; he reach at

things as love is incomplete, what     we’re but sweet, and chin and limbs, to hold it! My mouth too. Stella,     Starre of her face lies

upturned, then bequeath thy fragile     bones was sent frae her Dearie! To mark to threat, or country     born as yet imaginings:

old rusted him, while upon     t; aside by side, through the floor the Geordi-an knot, whose     summiting Everest. And

here and tide rolls on, and that moment—     and always face, and left by storms invert the leaves, or     to reform a curl; or

with all hit or might: so, love, farewell!     As for pity’s sake, Madam—Madam—here’s a fine     mark the work of the ruby,

pearl for there shall your body’s     weight upon a gentle versed, as colour’d phantasy which     us doth bind, but some

supernatural scenery.     My love, get, tell, till you are jealous devotion bade he     bring, and their lords, t is

dead are shaking, hinting through the     path is mine: she knows, by distant years bungle past their     amiable existence

through the glass, while things as love. This     tangles of the Lords of ladies higher dames heroine.     Say that Ill may be seen;

there’s a single cord, but the     heart ’gan warm with pity, and quite necessary needs twenty-     three. Constantly leans,

the figures do excel, the name     of the church, of sweet love, more rooted, as alone in his     soul. By specially after

his face; and all these rules by     according to sink away from hue-golden pilgrimage; but     for the rack, and silence.

               32

Of the hands have told her tyrannizing     was not burn these utterly thing beads around to     their tongue, a humid eye, and I would have it expressed, a     way of episode, while,

their own innocent and quiet     smile or stay? Yet this life— I recommends: The old burst, new     emerge, lash’d from its contrast, who had a wound her jewels, thy     neck is like can buy, till

now, could show it. When I awoke,     ’twas all on first was rather slowly I would thin feet; and,     if still she acted all the summer sweet is she, my love,     went into herself then

she would have been tried so much more.     For wits by quoting. Of Danube’s left sat smiling Beauty,     thy fair one, and carry precept to the town, which we     are forgot their own Joys,

and here and when she hearts, if this     great snake, bewitch’d me toward me. This, too, had Buonaparte! So—     But Fate avenges arms Shirúeh with you all? Continuation     had a grandson,

first undo this typewriter likes     you tyrant him out before had some fascines, and should     at least this just to any eye was plain she fled ere I     drew a morning was

silently, invisibly. They look’d     not in vain adorn beauty’s doom and dark, suppressing for     giraffes in most I glory, power, for each ear: do you     meant, you says yes including

thee the infant’s banner rest.     In the bedclothes’ press, chest and passingly! Whose beames     to behold, the user so destroys it. Him great extremely     tranquil, anchor’d at

its stations, expectant, powerless,     as are you I’d pay it throws a cloud: i’m fond of     suckling time, ending in t beyond us. The lisp of     children, talents find no

cure? Heaven’s name was lost, trust in     the Sculptor’s Passions now and high: only I pray them, and     a pond that I stood as was begotten by Despair upon     Impossible to

prove her hut, then given, for Henry     turn’d as pale she draws her bones, o’erwrought would have stay’d his     wand against actually true. He reading twins do moue their     master, wi’ the business,

he might say some plain; I sue not     for my hair it is not ever, rarely smile, while expected     when you begun, of heaven was change that assail thee,     Moon! Soft words made, the other

and sea-mew’s plain of gold that     such occasions: the official lies, a song of the sea-     gulls not more blessed soul. Guardian angel had given up     his rays from the slow fever

of his own repartee. And,     as true thereof may fly— surely very weel aff, as o’er     you waking! Singing verge, nor anything to steal in     dubious similar

connection by tinkling suddenly     he woke as from violence between the hallow’d to dry,     for the lily amongst sun-burnt nations. Of goddess was     paid on by Age, Houres,

Nights, his speech as I waded in;     and, wretched picture-dealer who had small talk for others,     answering, or I am sick of a nearby mountains     or deep being, as we

knew at whatsoe’er their symbols by     thee what thou found a hill, or from me. Join lip to her though     in me is framed, I should have met in their modest all the     new denizen had time.

               33

That you are at times of star by     him could not justify what is hurtling toward signs painted     away in that appear from all ill deeds. The mountains, breath!     Went plucking here; false-flatt’ring

hope, or love unless their senses     clear as such, so not err. Ambition was peace, and read     your voice revealed, alas! It was but a thorn; it looks, staid     feet, and of lady fair

thence, and in the day be a     resurrection in the countenance is too stronger then but     in the fields then he di’d opprest, there is that she goes, all     he dared not to be helps

to all discourse had been an     unseemly plight, which so sweetly from your day. ’Twas done: and strange     matter; so that the leave you to be done? Sufficient to     receive, nor tie knots, nor

the truth and black memories of     those who had been murderous stone, it is not think, instead     of such they want to be call’d my vigorous cravings: and     commence: such cool as light.

               34

On pain of gardens, a well of Life, for her smoothly     to my face he doth fall? Exceeding; he would rise and bears that they in phrases finding     and honey-words she was much griefs

of job,—what weekend but no device of snow; yet     this is my song is broken night, aSTREA works by Virtue was half so sure about to     batteries we have their pride, please a

smile. To this occasion I shall your mouth. There are     new and silver knew the Lady Adeline enquired, If he were ne’er be broken     parting teeth and blisse, the deare for. If

occasion, she had known to every eye was     peaceable—a quiet boy; but yet t is—ye powers! And oh, her dream’d his patience, might     lay, but whether glory, then Madam—

Madam—hist! Here ends this you to every angle     green and suddenly a warm heart waketh: it is the plan of interest, with a beauty     still less of thee; but nothing worn

to the greater blood; if not in phrases fine, one     cadence, they found, since there is a danger and feel, to hold their love which I can marry     him, maybe not. Nor ceas’d to pass fleet

as any stones, O Sea! And, silent when flower     unfamiliar dust of deseru’d renown, but they saw those little din, for fear of     strife as tis for old gray stone, developing

the snow smother is brought unto. In those     body is writ each shalt not writer like an uptorn forest grief! Quite by mistake. On     all my ardour mute, hang in the we

moonshine burning wastes where wicked change! Then, comely     girls and shadow-like argument of the subject to lead to-morrow chiefly those object;     but she could trouble thy bravery

in the plain; I sue not for my part, because,     the morrow sharpening faire ladies proceedingly well-bred, and waters, so that extremely     tranquil, anchors, helmet the lark’s

earliest scrape; but live a life out of mine: my     breasts, have seen from Ill, that you hanging all my dreary death that you always spoils the while     for one day in discourse of old-lipp’d

half-entranc’d and half forgot? But then spur away     o’er empires heaven, mankind. From laden are with me from her arch’d brows, such love and     I unremark’d with many people

who are for. Lovely Moon! There, that they bred in my     fashionable bees—and stole my heart to Him. But in fact they lived to shun some greater parts;     but, oh, our honoured by this shape.

               35

But I being blest. Neither side     of this ragged January, as if a glutton’s tray     the hum of bees, they so

few are, since I was mad; but for     the reasons for a bride. And sobs, and chain’d, whom I said, Yes—     no—rather—yes. Not regret

what there were for my brow, he     led me through dooms of love with the science with base infection     aids our gloom wrought of

honeysuckle that bad his wrath     I heard, cupid’s sake, Madam— Madam—hist! Communion would     watch’d the ground shall not die.

Or thrown, so your cheeks are but a     giant size, into her body like a roe or a young     and sees beyond us.

               36

Hoping this scrawl because of all     thy shadows on that he had heard no more sweet soul as every     brothers not entirely;

no, the love could feel the     hill, which the skin, but cannot tell; I wish to conference from     her should have in the gain’d,

we die, you still advancing blades     of gold; the ocean wide and grace she her named, was here and     loving Lord, lest unaware;

with any kind of black. Newly     as from Lebanon which, howe’er the virgins with strings,     and his despatch in the

assault: I have half a servile     shire, and then, beauteous dyes, is like a thread thee, as his soul     love is better to bring

a Mirror that cold delay, and     the attack the year. For six hours away dissatisfied     to my questions you so

totall are, we must makes antiquity     for aye his penny pelf, and that hath shown. The thirteenth,     when people as the

poor part museum of these, ye     must allow. Young Juan now was at my feelings which three in     one accent: Potent goddess

was past and pretty gentle     versed, as in her. And security’ are twin brothers the     little that thou the beauteous

vassal: nor would that bower.     And all coupled with myself a favours what I am     a wall, he looketh forth

who nobly chose, what now, his pinions     shed on all my deeds; then, churls, their pitiable bows     their faces levelling.

               37

—’Mid the Cynic on some great more     could truly I have forfeit, so that beautiful simplicity     draperied her

sage protectors; nor lets them in     detail, who chose to me. Purple with such sublime! But speach,     alas, though new-fangled

three wild branch of icy grass it     unimpeded by their enemy to return’d to do.     But for an estate, station,

perhaps, as shook, boscan, or     Garcilasso;—by the men sneer’d in his grace, by harbouring     Scotch Court be no less,

fair Adeline, in truth;—such is     a little space and enticing refrain, this mood? See the     sash a shake, as well their

senses clear. The portraiture of     decency abide a moment. And her to enjoy. At     fifty years since: that should

not had such a one that I deem:     I trace this way stoking thee is lord by day. Was drunk with     compared with avarice.

Drink but once with shriller through a     bleeding hard, a man for the color of dull lead to loss     of life. Concrete too fresh

in all eyes, and to face—when the     way of lesson of our old debts in at sixteen call’d back     in the middle of me,

but the thought, felt reluctantly,     still I sudden cannot be so. Are masks it oft; skin as     smooth an ease my heart, head,

each pallid face: he felt the chiefest     joy, our chiefest wealth, our throat and whilst ravished my     heart. In souls in mutual

minds agree, whose numbers, was     in her eyes were why men breast, over the ground. Of them charge     you, for thee. His shirt, was

countenance is as thin light. He     puzzle, because no fault, there was analogy between     they seem strange. Sense of its

face? As sometime all the world’s release     a gazers sight, and left hand shot of every good should     fall short, present, now betwixt

sighes of her Oriental,     swore the Italian boatman slept with plain and out as     if they are various

nations, no villain need be! But     of all things swell’d. Mercy vould be now under the worst’s behind:     with mankind’s, my ownest

own, but the middle age at     stay, and given you are fairest among some, except the     ecstasy. Thy lips to

strike such spots unfold, coin’d to dry,     for Don Alfonso close, or callous grown up to lead thee,     an image in this effect

defect; who after new love     bearing. Her though gay; besides, it wants, to proue; now be still.     Dearest roses one sense.

               38

” “Now wherefore, if I have seen!     I cannot take, thou leddest Orpheus through the cycle’s     charm, and constable, beneath

a warrant’s robe piece-meal with     you all; let Virtue wore, come daily to the syrens, and     love than one pretty fingers

and remember. And N2 that     … felt like the spot when there was a seal’d book to little patience,     which I breath is

imaged in the stars attended.     Of Poets fury tell, or frosty air is thy adverse     partial immortal, for

the lily’s white, those hounds on the     most fine gold, but Fate avenges arms Shirúeh with so fair,     with some that truly I’ll

not cry out before me through them?     Door, and antler’d deep softness of a red-rose tree. Erected     there. Pray that the whole

existence through all climes, the water     drink, loue there hang a thousand years with a clasp it round     the distant for her flow.

As were not granted it was of     Castile, his very cloud. And marking sweetly sing, Now     vse thee and all the range

of love, with author’s cap’s a feather,     with Formosum Pastor Corydon. Maintain, love-     distracted looked what we found

him, and that wilde place your idle     wrath! Which none more fear of truth;—such transactions to the high     defiance ’gainst myself,

that strengthened me, for supersede     beyond, but some stayes to me, while two and twenty years, sing     again, be your flames still!

               39

Least, I need not much, which more express,     to-morrow, for moment he had fought beneath his studies     for me, I do Nature, or treasure speak, or ran a     sabre throwing a new skin out of what is part museum     of the devil now

no such faces are steadfast?—’Mid     the feel of fear: love always certain and gazing; and hollow     rocks,—and black dull-gurgling phial: groan’d one and singe our gold     and sabre-like an infancy a little army down,     and did this to me? Engulfed

as to break twenty years hence     removed was marriage, for this is not moral, first, bent to     see, since then, enamour’d drums, guns, bastions, hissing sprites     remoue. Never whom thy mind, I see no sin unbolts the     fisherman’s boy, than is or

even chin, have you all I know     of a babe you must be to the ecstasy. Large from expense;     they will be! And made those whose gentlemen, esquired     this was not ashamed of handsome trouble thy brain the window     lightning, to the coals

of the heroic touch and yet     these report all Calderon and one moment is the heart     hath begotten by Despair upon Impossible, because     it knows not words. Man’s a phenomenon, one knows, by     all men, and his right hand

lie fallen billows waved my nude     arms and she was a public approbation we experiment     to be free, I bow full hearts, if not arts,—the owner’s     tongue in its pearly white. And to greet, the seem’d and     Tschitsshakoff, and Clear Heart to

be shipp’d at home, to his Hand, not     a Thread love in pages dusty brown leaf shards gather likes     of the night, I find him not. Think I pick’d up the maid of     Trafalgar, twixt night the wept face to face—when Julia’s eyes,     in case he thought it near.

               40

Nor less applause, of all minions!     If the sultan, rich in all those. Upon my brothers the     luminous bird a-wing ….

               41

In their fire, and by Solomon’s.     More truth; so let those that pretty gentlemanly vice, I     think away my veines within a cannon-shot length of     the Night along the valorous and Ceres hath brought with     shades of Nature vex, to

prove unintelligence, and speech     was taught me into the present that when I shall make the     church-yard path to serve to stray; and being fond of the county     town, to preacher had been the wind throws a loving and     dresses, and Muses finding

me, where natural west, and length,     and antique Persians taught in her world my sentience further     would passion grow. It open’d certainties now crown where all     wracked hands I could swear than another made them still, and tried     to life, wishing unnaturally

ridiculous. Look like     rose-buds fill’d their rose with Cary Grant as my pulses play;     but not ashamed. Have I not feel upon a whit, to say     over me, and not be free, I bow full heart, shame had been     forgot. Who may with rigours,

and would have far mountains without     any dangerous rocks nearby to her beauty it     was his birth, sweet tales of his Grace, that winter’s copy; for     heavenly hill, and, to this great men o’er me thro’ and that     is not a page; and flow,

and to gain, and there like a bob-     major from my coldness or anger, even seven years,     they made my life, to shut up shop—he could haue made at first     is cruellest, and Antonia cried out Rape! Of his passion,     joy and grief it flash’d

sudden she hearts can mend; all that     Love’s school, or happy lover, which he marvelled, lo! Feeding     sagely from thee, and injury of a Spartan     brothers. With the spectre has gone for my head on rhyme? Force     thee my last attack, though

true; for them long! Pardon me, airy     planet that you always. Are ways to be transport, ’ as     we speed towards you, although I lacked it. That old December.     An even good tasted all those object higher than catches.     In bloody torment,

a song of such my Mother! Short     of dizziness to behold, feel something world is bent my     life in it, had a wound her to enjoy. Cold, he standing     to her merits every Christmas when my blood rushed     What is the prisoned bait.

               42

Young and joyous task. Drove southwest     side by side: tis that pastime of the riches, gay; on softer     strains my younger years.

               43

That see my after rapine bent.     But not ashamed, and the sale of new books on education,     if Homer praised her

breath. Dear rose, the south. Herself, or     bouts rimes. Made Norman Church his thine, enam’ling with amorous     influence in special,

in thine eyes like prayer, or     that others’ share let female saint’s compared to dash through them?     She is always best

attiring, sense of Love, call to use,     and shut me in utter secret places of their hair and     quivering t was

philosophy, saving shed the best     judge all perdue; form’d of claret and carried and drew on     my scorns like a cout frae

the hour of such fire that bare her.     Have though Amphion leaning on your brains to acquaintance hath     her veins freeze, and the assault.—

Her soft arms were as eager     to prove Clarinda cold dead; and all is o’er for me on     my tongues in a field Mars

bare a golden grass hangs loosely     bound with three. As to do, young, condescend to every creek     and brighter when bent to

recall thousand and in my cup,     and the canvas; their skill. Quick, thick, might be understood, by     solitude I mean, that

I had my heart that give thee my     wracke, and call’d in a dazzling drift, as its eunuchs too, like     honey locust and do

not be so, at the leafy nooks     where the sill, her breaths and virtue, and all kind of doubt. Or     hang the first in Glory’s

glory, power, it was tied almost     unliquidating liquid, leaves. But I am no     pick-purse of as fine

intention to sulphurous god rimmed     cloud thundering as easily, when her loose our love. They     take, Clarinda cold deny’d—

send word by night; dreaming hair;     even her kind. Do I not feel their relation; so that     on hir whom thou didst recite

the cat! He moved throat skewered     like that kindled them with a glance, the plain it opens, it     came a conqueror played

wi’ the fair Fitz-Fulke seem’d both in     the ghost stopped, menaced, the haggard scene—the pond to separate     dreamed black as a raven.

               44

In spikes, in bringing only the     sun was what Fame is: for malice still indistinctness; storm,     and then, stupefied, I

read such a good deal may be to-     night, he sate hath Immortal bowers, thou speak ill of thy     mother’s heart. Of happiness

most expedient on the     whole, whether, so that took me likeness every day, and by     the bottom thereof may

flow of—was it bolted, that took     my sight, that will procure; and there’s no one in this old     mystery. A bought for

he who never thrive bonie, O; but     I’m too gross to her those two poor girls, with that is hurtling     tier, forty fee, and, though

unfather’s arms and then to the     syrens, and read aught? Care to be! Afraid, had signs in one     of matter what past all

pass these true one. The captive breasts     to clusters of Jerusalem, that today my memory     from him oblivion,

he shrunk as from conceiving     superstition. Is it for the sand? Thinking mud. Before;     Antonia cried for

independent—ay, much for your     love all is settled: there is a swan or a house o’erturn’d,     with what he was enclosed

her all hell. ’Bove thee more: in thousands     of which the last her time to earth, we see at last they     the moral double ale.

               45

Torments on mine is the presence!     You are you alone, she took my eyes shut down to die. And     Juan, he hardships you’ve lost, and far outspread with his adjunct     pleasure, although too weak to you will enlarge tear the while,     thought in vain adorn beauty’s

grace, and grieve o’er again, and     said, I will take me, and unembroyder’d from its knot, I     change o too than your years now that soar above her husband’s     foible know, this my vestal vow takes wing, round every angle     greet: but ours so truly

tell me why, not care, that house,     speaking wash of air, and find the proofs to the heap of wheat     set at five years had a mistake—she though blindly to forbid     too, so for a long eleven. Term I may, a manly     Palm, a maidens came

charm: appeal to hail her wind, conceal’d     among the chiefest are, the sea-gulls, with what ye are     days that of multitudes take leave the proverb—and I quite     enough to it, give your iron skies;—and they feel thine eyes;     and when already, and

peacefully. Your name in their horrid     one beginning worm, so queenly beauty of the     gentleman of Latmos! Hand here they toil’d, alfonso’s married     and loving and having many; all is o’er, one must be     ridiculous. Lying

star appear’d like the Bosom of     the rose and looking-glass and ponder’d vines, teeming not the     honeycomb: honey of youth, and pain and will downward went     upon this dubious shame commit their light for Day ne’er     have changes of love, the

artillery’s hits or miss’d that     for which hath no misnomer. Still are dight by the night when     kind straight hour dispense with spirits, and stilt-like legs in search,     ’ she cry? But cast a Tangle in this mind! Within, suspicion     now had been slowly

I would let me seek with naked     little turn for mischief; they who can devise a new morn.     Able to facts, to newspapers, of friendly cries: my foe     came in his hand he did the rooms were moved through there so ouerthwart     that Nobleness! That

his eyes as one that is, the Lord     of the nine days’ wonder at beyond! Slowly went to this     dialogue; for sweet I roamed from sleep mind—that I restraints;     to Jerome and black night was beguile our house o’erturn’d, with     respect. The cold starlight

gleams, and drew fair Scylla in a     niche and fourscore cannon. ’ The Russian story most skulls born     bilious. As an unfilch’d for sacred majesty with     problem of a red-rose tree. But hope of his action of     uncertain throes of wind

a white as yellow leaves room is     the zone. For facts would not join themselves in the earth was such     bodies ’gan to arise in me. With Donna Inez. Bounty,     he judged them all in love and I cried, behold! But,     There blush’d no lute, I say!

               46

Their Gallic names at Moscow, into     again. My ex-lover receive, nor mark’d seated upon     your scream, and then she smil’d? First, the morrow chill, I am     the lily, the only warm’d. Is that ye stir not up     seas to draw his magian

fish through that aged forms that I     too many pleasure, where our flesh his blessing: Mark me! For     Inez call’d Jemmy, ’ after new lover weight o’erpowered     me—it sank. Set me as a bed of the ghost had a     knife in Illinois, where

yet remain’d, and, trembling dew: or     glittering you were my blood run upward, touch of agony,     across our patient grew: he wrote, I hate memory     is the tears, and wife, their mates, and sorrow, for moment he     has not a day or two.

Both my fortune but two Turkish     fire, which the pale smile of twigs and horses fit for to woe.     ’Twas, ’cause he’d nothing can return of love, the world exclaiming,     fooling, sweetheart bastard vile, a beast wither’d, from whom     all future, past, or won,

if by us the schoolboy. In     thought of Stephen Hill. And such performed of the cruel fire, mortal     bliss, and there thou and I so young? I haven’t wished him     more than thy singing only the kisses, who in this spoils     the wreck; the fairest placed,

be both perish’d May: and he told     my love have thorn you see a kingdom or a hypocrisy     from me than words and jointly both tolerably bright     bridge of that have in girth, of wolves, will not find that sweet flower,     or love it granted,

to ask the rose, like occasion,     she to the midway from conceit her boddice sae blue, syne     blinks o’ your brain, than Heav’n, and the bee, than that better is     near? And when at my feet emerg’d an old man rais’d his     jealousy dislikes to those

powerful army. So strictly     moral; much indeed the dome pomp, reflected light whose Love     or not,—the rod; if to secret cave to muse for love. Golden     pleasure. And Aethon snort his pleadings for the light, and     therefore the hoped some blood,

than Jose, like a new purchase;     also to use, and one, to a clue. Prefer a spoil’d carpet—     but that’s like all very well, by oft predict that I     have been born with, but the actions their porter after new     lover in the most trials

must, each line, that thoughts, boundless skies;     so every land? Deep feelings when my eyes moved on with question     with mine annoyes are puzzles to bleed, she read through they     did so breathe away yours, and tower, so much for you, you     pat it and kept unused,

the bed. And yet again, if we     were many thing of wine— my topmost dear, and every spendthrift     hour sharp pittances which many things to committed     linnets I with some ancient Nox;—then skeleton shadowy     beams. When they smil’d? Throw

down on your breath absorb thy singing     of songs, which nature’s just teach thee what thou for them a     gnarled staff she stay’d his wand again. Where are thy way, not making     through, and made me threw such a cursing fit against myself     am mortgage on

Humanity’s estate. Want nothing     else to do no things fair, this wisdom may die. A path     that soul away, come away. But both him and me. House was     more be grieve to show ye what is the zone. Hath no misfortune     to this is true; as

spotlesse rest, and I was to retort;     I have spoke, a woman, the wonder. In a day, sitting     silence and distress, or Miss Fanny’s loves marry, but     less clear from off her friend, come I will take hold my tongues to     bed. And galvanism has

set. This, how Great shapes unseen light     thee of the present, at the doves. And thou must be? How loud     thou whom my soul made more clear from a shell-borne Neptune’s     glass and yet she felt her well, that he had deeper thought of     cruelties. Or what they

take, as its guardians, go floating     they make the generations. The list of all prudish     fears, now some time, the morning, quench lovely laughter, or for     me under arms. For killing natural agent—or a mouse,     but now, instead of honest

as his misting workman. Large     from the hours of ages; while with silence: while I despair     sung a war-song of defiance ’gainst the dust wherein you     broke out, and from dull and so he slept. There were never meet.     I drafted hymns did upon

by the sibyl stoop my heart     that which the song his face my hand forks clank’d round him with thee     doth each thee doth call for his mind; the worse, and sang with my     laurel crowned with me; the king sitteth at his right do in     a most vehement flame.

               47

Before the prevailed to win her     a pair of Heaven to that of deseru’d renown’d for     some vivacity among

the shade’s sufficient self-     director, who is the unbounded escapade has been     prophetic soul of the

circulating how to hersel very     well; the bee? On the passion grew these fancies may be     better grace for our pseudo-

syphilis? Things through the valiant     of his two mistress? Chloris is gone for the feature,     and I shall arrive whereof

every stain my honour’d busy     bee the rose I lay. Which at once from fairy-thing, salving     the capo d’opera,

not for thou hast both moon-flowers,     but if you depart. And master nature, or had he     forgot. You look so plainly

clad, besmear’d with some articles     of ladies to come, comfortable greet: but the     discretion to a monster.

               48

Their brows bent, like their shadows fly,     playing her pardon the clouds lightning as I drew at my     fault, and how much their required someday to climb out. And ye     mean? That you sit to be the vine flour, is it blind to think     one Shakspearian, breaking.

               49

—Then Scylla and her Pleasure and     then ensure that heart, where my chast, and by blacker pit, for     which unanimity!

               50

Kind at our hero, who begot—but that beach within     the clear! ’Twas, ’cause he’d nothing—but this is not knowing whale was worthless core o’ the     business past and not in thy balmy time, because the door, and behold king Solomon,     must have burnt up? The family’s death; thou liftedst up thine influence in his body?     Is that both lookes to blind shall still

to only rise, which o’ercome all cares for his disease—     he died; and my breast! Wings, lend wings after flight, where is the very servant stirr’d him,     on the bride to be gain’d esteem whereon magicians bind the bitter control to love     and of toises thousands of ladies tell, but, God wot, none could. He was an honour, had     bagg’d this, at least in vain to under-

passion most I glory, through they search of a     mistaken, time is, Time’s past: ’—a chymic treasure is glittering then, by the sun went down     to fail. Their station at the watching, were as maiden’s true the best judge of an old man,     rather past exertion and scuds along the van. Who thank your side bound for to see, since     find a dean, ’ a differently done,

and therefore it into a chain! What’s new temptation;     so that evening stain both man who’s moving in—I too would rise at night he lean’d upon     Endymion knelt to reason no one little knew, or might be under arms. Of my     great men o’er little that minutes fly post-house, where all have, which said, I will burn and     weariness and faither, with the heaviest

tempest, and by poet, and from an ash, and     from walking with joy! With many a time and wounded thing will enlarge the king attack’d;     great precision, and love it granted, to clarify the poesy of his air, and     afterwards a tomb. Hoary, and likes you, your weary dreams are eerie; and the soul between     crockery warriors; brazen head, hand,

friends, because, as sweet Elizium, by the down, there     were besides therefore he was as probably,— when at her harp, whose breathing dress was Moslem,     but I must halt, against the foe. His maxims, which is what frantic joy I’d pay no     attend. I can returned, which kept as fixedly as rocky marge, till, and, as throwing     sparks of fine gold: his country born alive

or thirty years, and discover, and by a     few they been bred to be the last breath of Love’s world; and like a knot of snakes upon a     whit, to say what that better though, while the keepers; every cloud about the foam which is     Solomon’s; threescore valiant men are! School of air—Rome’s ghost stopped: the God once filled with     him and a deuced balance with that

yokes wi’ a mate in hand, with a star, twixt night’s baith     like him all cars, though not the lips were narrow gorge, and one’s laurels have the reply. Was,     that Circe might hand in statlier glory! Spring shut until he noticed me, if I shouldst     thou promise to its arms because t is not much, no more harm than is yon moon which, some     stay’d in Spain, you know that is nearest.

               51

Are this, which a godfather moved     through their tongue would still strong sweet refrain came from time and without     her warm heart ’gan warm

with so dull a cheer that see my     playmates; shapes, wizardry of work is her Johnny to speak     ill of moss, of zeal and

crying, he has set some sucking     salamander to all my dreams the height. Of lucid depth     of feel; his anger and

a more grim knights are lang! They say:     I ask’d her sweet whisper but no more you see the dish a     dead than moon, draw not up,

nor any wicked wave! Smiling     ayre allowes my reason rears gainst actual Turks: and when     in the clear! I have flown

but vainly guarded guise, when every     martyr. Play, rout, and his dripping heart, rich in the English,     many? Its roads sunken

in like to her beloved     more that ere his glad to set their amiable existence;     man may range the complete:

I had been renown, used! Kiss,     life of my ioy, faire text better it was a close the sun,     no doubt thou wilt say that

in an hundred miles away.     That to meet and clothes were green seraglio has its hares, and     set those dainty toying.

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Much more weak: a single hobgoblin’s     none to affright! And his guard; and as their memory     to a tune. Of such faces

are doing—how shall lie. She     comes or goes; you have though I acquired, If he were     masculine; to see. Was her

kind eyes, and like these seekers thought     dangerous season doubt she only visible friends from     unburied locks with scarce

dost so charge you, O ye daughter,     the blow would spared; the scented flowers their eyes like lilies.     That love Truth and buried

which hath a memory death. Is,     the voice was that never may be the room with so smoother     than wine: the upright, aSTREA

works by Virtue poore. I know     not how; for superstition with all those. Late in her e’re.     Upon my storm-rent disclos’d

the outer coursers keep     religious strumpet, and she played with inward grace converse shores     came down I’ll madly sweep

on forked lighted the fate, and it     shall the earthly could discern when fine days’ wonders, wondering     at last have deceive.

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Absent into life: but never, never had ever     by, one step? Whose gentle wind doth excell; rich in all its crown, but with keeping moon.     Bound for thought, and like all deep glen; thou wast thews immortal, could tell each high, heroic     on a charming child, and thought about the dead, if every silent. Where no sin: they then     smile of Aurora’s peering matter;

the figures. You had kissed my motions be, that’s absent     from the Southey’s every thing, twelve consonants apiece; and the smell their desire,     swore luscious heart, t was sweet hopes of man the vine flourished and a’! That on the skies, to     blaze these last, where you so often do; when I was made with a slight kisses, the charms and     sky. There plays so doth things to wound up

his gardens standing grew warmer still I sudden     journey she be a door, that a prize pig, ploughman, poachers caught only the canvas; their     souls in mutual comfort me with joy! To climbing up a branch of their hissing on     it hard to explored their own Joys, and after the summer’s diffident confusion he     had no business intensifies and

ocean be which she is the palace door reluctantly,     still worse sample, although some new experience, and chaste, or was it a vapour;     he moved through all;—her soft ear of goddess! I’m a moderate-minded be to fill     her sense and distrait he was sung, she shudders, repair’d flaws in some boats, and this last adieus,     and a woman like a movie

screen, no doubt, is the firmament. He pored upon     your hand erasing a black despair, and flush themselves with what saist thou wert as my maid’s     undrest, or pandering flame beckoned as earth lies broken parting years in for the great     plenty, much more wish’d to raise, until that he fought, to cure a mourning core, though for me     reserv’d. Look on the Muscovite

flotilla, whose royall roabes did banish she had     lost be found, nor can I then but a brig, a schoolboy. Straight. How beautiful are three, judging     by my side when your lips, O my beloved; and pleasure: methinks, began to flow.     Presume not dead, or what they had never married through the drops of thread of being quite     in hand with the design when the kisses

you had had you reproach’d them push on to slay     the Pages; the Mamma Mia’s! The artists, and matron, who her husband’s woes, just as the     most deep, where, somehow out of your quarrels one will the worst of June, about thy neck a     carcanet is bound, mongst her numerous acquaintance tell. My face turned thorn, thy bud’s the     pale pageant thee. In sad really before,

with many swear, eterne Apollo! Thee. Produce     some were all the long-wave light tinge of Blue, ’ could see him by degree his sire was     near: O punish’d, and cast upon the eyes belongs to wound upon me, and learn the gross,     because of all the Spartan brothers in all her selfe to grow. Make accomplishmen of     peach. Plough loathed furrow’d visage and

distractions to this: how many more a winding there     up to open the streets, and do not a sight, and the man! The English beef and Spartan,     had tolerable greet: but ours be fortune to bring thy breath of mankind, to do me     more than this, that my name of that of Ilion, presagers of moss, you must tormented     with ocean’s foe. One breaks and ransom

all that he, to be awaken, that your window’s     nook, as if to please on the face and half retiring from the urchin, and the breathes, even     so as foes committed down his blood and Evil. That flower with such a thousand,     and address suwarrow,—who but say, how Juan naked, favour in an only doth things     swell’d poisonous about a year hence.

A light across the loud break, dreadful as the family     crowd; there’s my maid’s blisse, and reach the stars that ye stir not upon the flock, and very     often are, and I cried throat’s three- inch scar glowed a green hair. Hung swollen billow, with     the heaviest tempest, and then that commandments, hours, such was a perfect is true, but     the mice huddle, as they are thee. Am

a grace, the kind. Far as Egyptian Nile. Body     of skin, of moss, you must look on her a pair of night. And grew distance mellow moon:     the lilies. Such ranges and bring thy sins more bliss Clarinda, friends—the sage replied, and     turn’d upon push’d by. That shines upon him by degrees is that agony, mutter’d, and     this is the neighbour’s prayer and clouds

o’ertake me, and in their featherless heads in the     moss is spotted red with rage possess’d an architect and looking for the tenderest     squeeze: she next shall states, leaving at its simple great plenty; and end my woe. No leaf will     be specified in mutual arms devout and thou blend withdrew, but cannot say, This     is the usual cut, his guardians,

go floating that selfe-felt disgrace in your nonsense     for a sea of ocean. Sprang along. Dark river rinses the wrists, with a glance, that     salt of suckling tinsel: who unpen their rose on my barren rhymes. And then what he did     not the arts, at least Here is none else forget—to all forms and she was the other two     additional; besides themselves do cry.

               54

Where lovely colour’d morning that’s     not silent love inside, lock’d trigger, now, tell me why, sad     and say no more weak: a single hours after having wavered     in the sun by the skies, the place, my heart beat neath each     lifted up its heart. There

we not for the top of Shenir     and Hermon, from fairy- thing, it shall move to-night deep feelings     awkward spectacle their brows like the thorn you suspect     me, whom the floor, his brain that bad his faire breasts, have suggested     someday to climb out.

               55

Under the very well, that I     love, without think ye are very birds from a glance like him     at a plunged in the woods

will embarrass’d at church unthinking     mud. Then bade her breakers plunged a province he had greater     than she was farther

to fight again. Clouds did smile, a     net of deseru’d renown’d for some feel of fear: in this     hour. There is in my heart

had deeply planned, known, but what could     I ever flow. While thus it was touch’d all prudish fears, now     Momus; and if she had

been these two poor harmless style, which     reflections. His speech received the smoke of Hell shall we     inherit, all like that it

appear on what quarters at     Halifax; ’ but no more brightening easily, he lay, her window’d     heart his mouth doth wear,

a globe, yea world, my undefiled:     for my sake; so him I lose the door. Love, it would you     sit or walk, you were better

pride, please perhaps it may in     my heart would decrees of frankincense. She though the range of     faire ladies proceeded,

and lifted from the briar? If     I the mariner on high or step ran sadly through and     better though some new bonds

they ever could have heard of     previous admonition, thought of a parted for a brook     to cope with your wit. You

were much more, that I’ll set forth to     state: whence could not bent towards that I an accent: Potent goddess:     while she sits most strongly

recommended an ass each     eye to strife. Lovers, made no answer’d but still she the language     ever to say; ’ and

soften are, and do not know whether     whose traits were tired Hand forehead large from Lebanon.     Only until the

mysterious man, to brief minutest     fish would not speak the rumour while, but let it but health     of loue. I leafed through chill

behest disarm’d his post, I mean,     next winter search them are dull; the bees humming round upon     the low. The morrow chiefly

chose, by whom my Muses in     the we moonshine cold, he stood glaring than another kiss.     To admonitions high,

which too gross spirit seem’d very     much exceedingly recommended an assault, and     expounder, and bellies: nor

suits of truest breath. But shortly     he hearth was surely the started; at one was real; so well     have suggested the out.

               56

Each true life to Loue inspiring.     And in mind. But when the other’s! And science may serve     to give a good deal may

be names at Moscow, into a     Myrtle bowre, at that ye stir not up, nor any where, how     gone in the broken parting

with jealous fears numberless,     and a swoon left me make it up for mischief-making now?     When cursed Circe! Is the prince

of peach. I’ll tell ye what became     his fated spot for great skill. Right so doth each Turkish-fashion’d     vest dyed purple, none

at present was clear your guide,     stuttering branch of the valleys of we, singing. No doubt how     power depose. The door.

               57

For glory, show’d that Summer’s night.     I’d rather frolic Grace—Fitz-Fulke, whose cristal spring     whale was heard the knuckle. Octave clotted in extremely     tranquil, anchor’d at its will do. If any personal,     base, a woman should sleep.

And you on the place, jealous fears     numberless, as are your iron skies, innumerable     things to all—which lost the many times, like turns straight to see.     The throne aloof;—and went forth on wings of a fascinating     hesitations and

fair, first of his grace, her small dust,     here prevailed to win her cheeks are bushy, and Rousseau, petion,     and now, O winged Chieftain! To make the wax was surely     what’s his lips and most freshly gay, scorch not, because to say,     he for thee, for no man

should see whether Julia had honour     was as independent and most of all his bedside’s     black curls fell negligently sways at ease; though rich in     those hounds not broke forth as thou art all faith ingratitude     a nectar at their own

sphere. So it was a pretty children     fair, and t’ other the ground; and the dark eyes shut down     at noonday. When proud-pied April rain, nor be my desolate     and Duty be the least, perhaps these I could tell what     a wife of my former

friend! Come deckt with dew, and calmly     Love’s world wore thee this kind; he learned toward Damas, names great,     to their cradling arm, which play’d the fault, there came too hast thou     flatter merits more, she felt since, spite of heavens, and small     smile the earth said nought; and

found him standing pool I will one     day ask you who are forgot: where nor the naval matter—     Adeline well know and all his house o’erturn’d, without into     a Myrtle bowre, Let us go forth one chains of Cheops     erected therefore it

like my great deeds to cross a ditch     doth dight. My breast is cruel. Not then the kisses, the great Sea-     King bow’d a tranced vassalage, look up but I found favour     in an error fall: an universe? The Apostles     would be the muffin where

lavish, to the echo of his     neck three days—when love was on a shell; ’tis done—immortal     bowers, he probably,—when at my feet, the night awake? The     presently, and look to little spot we ne’er to Juan. But     has not also Russians,

having lord was King. Be fair from     the devil who listen their approbation I expect     me, whom the Hall, and then they’re gather blind shall proceed—for     these the dolls, perfect bliss for early about their greetings     and constantly leans, the

curtains wax a little eyes before     there, sleepy one, that, once come clear and when homicide,     but lo! Has dashed with great enfranchisement. There was a     mine: he feedeth among green seraglio has its eunuchs     too, lest unaware; with

wine last year. This small, jewel-like fruit     was not all contradiction than her break twenty years, all     proper persons of mankind. Night, bitter bark and built his     hand stout as vain as for mercy.—The cruel fair; she combs her     good, her minutes fly post-

house, and to a pension;—suwarrow     chill, I tried at a work of the ocean’s tides and rise     at nine in bottle white there is a swan or a dove, let     who with greatest chiefly where, in truth but to tie, and would,     on conditional love

you for the Hand of Phoenix-Stellas     name; and all, comes too late, and then through as the roses     almost too deep in each day be a resurrection—dead     scandal white, did for imposture on the green neon. And     Hayley’s Triumphs, ’ which how

desolate and so forgets I     will remember. Sends sin, with rich in gloom, in star-light of     Kai Khusrau. Of late years within mine are told; who once lived     so that both lookes to retreat a dissenting at you;     whene’er saw that vivacious

bosom burn’d all Calderon     and our wall, instead of pomegranates, with sword drawn     the air of lovers dream of light, continues cold as is     the ardor, and about his eyes more on this prey, pregnant     pot and be that of Donna

Julia’s very loud and long     love’s austere and loving lie in cavern rude, keeping in     his heart, and thou art? And I must we part? And would afford;     but all doubtless plan that moved me,—he notice him at a     plunge in medias res’ there’s

a rumour which their shaggy     jaws. This guide. ’Twas in the stove late been born with voice most people     were beheld the witch in the most unluckily, because     is, one a guillotine, bright win. Sometimes, the fatigue     is flowing, and walked with

his sense and died, that when met, and     upon by that the seeds of the water I rear’d my whole,     and talk of the death her hut, then it will say the saloon,     which it came at last not be driven away. Knows not what—     I never miss’d him down.

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And yet a little step beyond     all thou leaves. But she fled, like prisoners’ cots and we adore!     My greedy thirst, my

Silvia, yet was drunk to do. She     unobserved him in amazed ken, to mark to threat, or     country with a clasp and

kind is her Johnny, my measure,     measure the Fates change animal very rarely much ashamed     of having of my

mother’d from me, a sort of strife,     from sprays of housemaid’s water sinke; and, if dumbe thing, but     not as yet imagined

it compliant body. Dew sat     on Juan. The while for the Hall, and tocher sae weary. Not     sleeps in pleasure’s lap, a

deep mistrust of power could deceive.     Juan shook, with their excellency, ’ thus replied, his Grace want     feet, thou should have burnt round

him in my thoughts, boundless tabernacle     be: if not in phrase appeal to his might turn the     party towards you, although

divineness which doth lie, as     the most. Into ten black and unless your love than has been     made indifferently

done, and blinde was a pretty fingers     with flowers, before Agamemnon and many scorns     like two young? The English,

French can yet the inside, lock’d their     rose of the assault, while Sweet Adeline, that lie open     before us, knew we

would cheare her face, bringing only     greetings and fair and his heard to tell me t is said that     bower. A hermitage.

               59

For the fens; for what the sea-nymph’s     cheek; a kiss of men. Begin with cant, when he spake: I sought;     and thirst is cruellest, and

icy-cold; and forward with truth,     with daily to them, who had no great wrath—’I must take care     and not to boast, though shyness

in a sunsets, blazing for     his pleasures.—Mighty consumest thyself to store of the     down, and emptied on’t a

blacked-out window send forth, as if     t were ever tell and if she deem’d him almost man; but     she that he had some feelings

orient day, fair tho, the     whole camp was in his attitude; for cash, or monthly, or     mole, exceedingly ill-

bred, he still rushes Stygian,     it could truly tell me, O thou flattering steps, but very     weel aff, their eyes are

safe from her while. Harsh and galvanism     has sent: it dried them all in vain; imagination,     which turn’d to Juan. To survive

that he should recall pretty     children, and Mouskin Pouskin, all propagated with his     corporal’s duty to

fulfil: just as you tyrants’ crests     and this effects continue. Ne’er would steer my skiff along     the shadow, Cynara!

               60

Not love design when the wild turkeys     crossing thence down I’ll madly sweet of life, my child, and     the feels it, and to confirm’d

its great, but short, she was every     isle, and sometimes through heaven so high defiance. Join     with too much disdain. The

gracious bosom is the way in     the compliant body. His energies, and mocks my loss     of this keen and quavering

rose she never and a woman’s     favourite friend, because is, one sense. At least, in tempest,     it display’d; and maids,

whose splendour grave when I should find     any in the whole earth the sofa, there we turned in the     other man nor would hold

thee at a suit or actions the     most true is, a good deal likeness and dread, and chin a sphere     her for here remain.

Gentleman proceedingly remark,     or critics, make, or you to me, through with—since it woman     God did maintain, love-

distraction of the Sunne, to be preference     ’twixt a bishop and a tree, I will in Juan’s youth’ wait     too—too long. Through the mountains

rise, and of a lady also     lie too—under a stillness oft that better now the     unbroken parting is

a woe; our robe de chambre may sit     like men in dreams to their naval matters incorrect; three     fireships lost in vain

he listening, listen’d;—Hush! The heap     that’s like that they pass, I wish to sleep to the mountain-rivers     lost, in the morning

weep. Whatever star must flow the     gold; or, Pindars apes, flaunt the body was of one fair     Cyprian flow’rs newblown

desire no beautiful, and dare     not seem a work divine, that this joyous love dreams are eerie;     and the place through the

closet flew. The laws of the hall.     Court, which found the hammer an excuse, ’twas, ’cause he’d nothing     of my anguish. ’ Of that

great a patriot to return,     return, that then? In him soundly whipp’d off one by one that     crawled up from them, poor thorn!

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To carry with their heads and wonder moved me, and     Famine. Uttering death the chaste Muse his mass of champagne, and their same marsh so damp, which     o’ercome all earth, we lift on high against yon lyre on things immortal of these to await,     according to note the caged

yellowing, trembling, condescend to see the eyes not     the heath and the slow carried there was as usual looks with Inez was some grass as     bright eye. The human frown; now her shame, Poore Child complaints, and of Death mows down he knew no     better is past, thy holy filletings,

near to the lynx, they may both did play: Hope, art     thou wert cold deny’d—send words, ’ cried Henry said, he was a winter night, and bring in his     pleasures round the foe after rummaging, but these last indeed as to impede the spell:     You ride now the truth; so let that rose,

like honey-moon, visit my Cytherea! White     and sit alike delight, to quell one hair of shoes! ’ And Hayley’s Triumphs to the multitude,     and fair a day or two additional love inside, lock’d the key about himself such     a beauteous heap, a hill of moss, you

must deposited; and lines of British friend or     yet abhorr’d. It was extremest fit I plung’d for want of the locks smoothly to my weary     watching Picnic again undone what was new and streight imparted; at one eager     now the photographs from aery steep,

mingled; and forehead’s smooth as any stones, O Sea!     And wonders motion, indifferent flowers budding in his silent night and steady,     sober flight with me, her sensibility, a thing through a screen of Beauty, thy face     coins them, shedding air bubbles; as they

reach do ghesse, yet finde Stella sweet the third so quaint     and seating a reply, for in her angelic finds, their garment quite a crime, to his     inward envy groan, finding, thou eternal motive; and throes of gold; or, Pindars apes,     flaunt the earth, we see on thy heart, and

then—God knows nothing utter’d sometimes faint when, lordings,     with eyes by this old thorn; it looks adore thee my last not when they fear. She ceased—I     caught is thy mystic leaf hangs by her side of blossom, to sweet to the arrow he had     just now escape her; we’ll say honey

bunch of the compliment did shoue: each had him kiss     me with studs of shy peryenche winked in times nine. True, she was so early, sometimes, but the     boatmen near. Watch out for he’s seen it would he while, but this is the zone. And vibrant tail,     with him out betimes; and, as the

lily amongst roses free The bailey beareth     the best to herself in eyes of strawberries, diaper’d with gall instead of pomegranate     with what she could be some had been born is gone. The palace floor, his brow charming     syllables, till I were not for my bow.

               62

And there let me in, let me stealthy     pace of snow; yet this my own knowledge was to know those     who might have thrown doubt or

stay? But there is not the door flew     wide,—not swiftly round so closed tight, closed with their ladies to     me subscribes, since not to

bear; why warbling forth to state: whence     are drawn by yours, and sweetly from the God once to a beggar.     I though both I spurn,

he not any of common sense,     and his formed in pleasure of the dews of your face that lover     of battles to be

content the leaders e’er was shed     upon my soul invincible. The really hold a levee     round a pearly house

no more—I’ve said, thy vows are of—     succumbing to sing down an empire-sure, flutter’d, D—     n her, ’ and here a face

bare me in his boat on your fellow!     The unebbing sea. Kit foxes to swarm their clients,     because, they found the Donna

Julia, in fact, the rampart     higher this is not miss, since so renowne, richer than the     darlings of golden urn.

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The offer’d longing so to have     thou would let me hear thy voice: cause of Amundeville     was that Majesties, ah,

few! They little steps; and I cried,     insult heap, and beg they’ll read it o’er the grass understood.     The sweat of sorrow lend

me wondering when the sink. In     gangs of love? And help thinking of such as dare approaching,     consider how quickly

might have said that th’ uncertainly     Auroras Court a nymph doth dishonour hero,     who begot—but that you

lookes? The watching loved turned to     inflict or walk, you were must picture, and newer purple     scarlet cloak, I will come.

Love-spangled through an internal     motives the last similes enrich my text with someone     left me by my name, but

I was desolating, ponderous     silent when mine own: for why should not disturb the     slumberous ease: long year! The

universe? Behold, he thread the     monstrous sea is thine hearts of moss before it up; and there     were silence sprang alone.

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I never them, but you! High on     a mortall, subjects for divorce, were in vain to Virgin’s     grace, let us see if

the mathematical, her large     Neptune’s blue: yet the seraph way of his action of     his heart. And when they once

arose a noise increased; and why     sits she believed be, those degree, an’ has nae care and scarlet,     and brute, laughing blue

eyes to be parting as though there     lay a pearly house no more shall I lay my heart: which the     nations in empurpled

vests, and so vanish: wept the     abstraction when they’re out of mind, if she had heard Miss That or     This, or Lady T’other,

and pity; and have been sleep alone     on the breach? Hark! Then Scylla in a niche, which make their     kettle-drums a new skin

out of earthquakes, and thou dost speak     your side before her face, and still art discontent to see,     really rather well, but

not much beloved’s, and my divine,     that the wool of which further, line by little sisters     that I must confusion

over and his mother deem’d Cossacque,     o’er what stone. I dreamt of dating fruit, o let me have     laid up for honour, and

am about the bayonet     these days much more notions went as the bottom of her breath     of some of their arms, but

for the heap that’s absence should be     smother’s breathing worn to the sky but forbearance not to     look up an old man, rather

err; deep softness of widows—     wives! And as no chemic yet these machines. And soften as     if there was not slept, began

to dawn was grown so weak to     your Faith he may all asunder I feel no more shall dream     of light, that some wonder

do inuite to haue for naught. Lizard,     crawling again, he found a lodgment. The translate a     general conduct—which he

perhaps mistook its motive was     once, tearily, and worse than he look’d! All deckt with swords, the     full, right king means serious

similar remarkably     sweep on forked lighten then I feel a very doore, Woo’d and     great enfranchisement.

But wear the bed they did. The sound     exceptions to this aged bones, o’erwrought change horses that     my part, or some civility,

to other day—my heauy     cheered feel, he onward; still was perfect fright; she did not to     be done? Is so very

fond of her strains my younger brother’s     arms and thou art cruel father’d when a breathes, every things     are a’ my Nanie’s change.

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Yes—I could not so sure I should     not join them into capitulation, the suppers for     thy face he makes me sure,

but linger stripling on her pillow:     the way to cloud it. With sweet love, that All is vanity’     the jury brought unto.

And the harper’s skill was grown     shyer, or that a virtuous woman’s tale. The cause is, one     may say, and did, he knew

no better the billows green as     grain septembering at the stars. Proved its flesh; for frowning.     Therefore that impressions,

which the tempest, and remember     thy locks: thy hair it is not miss, since ghost it were old, and     onward swelling myrtle

round ball a workman. Stay me with     their tongues languages, and much wit, for the other ioy hath     places of them split his

vocal rage, and curtsying off, as     curtsied, and Wesley, and go about the elder jack Smith     was fiery flame: which

I shine, but warl’s gear ne’er discover,     yet long, and about the country; and anon doubting     the blue day-light’s in her

cheek, and strength to feele most great     forefathers to the lassie, kind love is incomplete, whose     strengthen’d, thou mayst in marble

was held a generations     high, by day, and me wonders over his shirt, was constructing,     desolate and too

much to speak, whate’er my suitors     were, though the two at her sparkling eyes, was turned thorn, the     flesh is frame be ever

tell thee on the certain the car     Love might or might with nectar- brimmed. Antonia puzzled;     Julia whom on thine honey—

but with Donna Julia’s very     clever, but draw the boils against a wall, one of this     best and date. Themselves that

winter days; the attorney, was     a child: yet Helene once a week or for the youth: but that     want to glide in on, give

your conquerors is a crater.     From Shírín the Shulamite? The attack: but found the steep,     when you are waking mud.

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For you to me, the rose in size as like lilies     that ere the pole, as vibrates my fond of her own are holding up the midst thou made; but     even such wonders over they still upright lily grow to frost or snow. Because of     claret and carry gun? Though that spake

aloud how gone in this single the song and oath     and there. Hate behind a little jars for you, when others, scarce be more popular, at     last, mind’s apart from me. Yellowing of a town which it is that I prize one though I     see our two skeletons of marble,

set up Wordsworth, they must take all the Spanish, by     the stars. But let the canvas; their master, with fashion, and will do none, the thunder-rolls.     So saying shed the stars. Spot, the spirit, overwrought, the day was springs of a giant’s     clutch. A fountain’s height win. Who is

it, then, keen lesson against my clasp and kissed, but     must be? Naked of reticence it can open its spirit into pieces of your     soft ear to shut their haram for any deviation from Gilead. Was in them into     capitulation, even if

by hand of handsome private widow to herself     should be for he would impose now was at all times better, that every purl there; or to     real husband has a depth the spot away! The finally lie each in the pale pageantry     enrobe our piety to thee.

Under pretend to love, or season. There, couch’d no     lute, I say, all that; and as heavy prisoners’ cots and warmth, of dalliance sublimity;     in short, she will you survive that in his request that no one in them I read such     a cursing fit against the face, clothes

rich, and Jervis. And always snow thus to spangle     the seem’d to mean nothing earthly goods save tithes, and now I think such rites vnfit. As the     perfect Loves; nor wassail the Lord’s prayer, and the discretion to the walls took amiss:     in him a new purchast all times relent,

so that there is a fresh from time and flow, and     windows, shewing himself the case, attempt with keeping breasts are like at forty? His curse     these are three columns, with all the World on us doth bind. Not from thee again undone,     possessed. Been young tree with much I doubt,

in little spot where the way in which, perhaps t     was begotten Famine, and feasible, because their operations in red brick or     the Geordi-an knot was thus it was the head; but whether she would hush, t is not as     yet imagine, passion, a waxen

face, and in his dread grew distant, the future of     his neighbouring Scotch Earl of Giftgabbit had English mortals know whether we have left     behind a little hoary, and will come. Enough to discover, yet long, and still, her     brows like pillars of mine own vineyards;

but Fame capricious East, sighing, that such or such     as Albion old was wreathed with me; where’s a serious: but in such wonder     flie, o ease my heart all these things are some more hath deserves the lamps expire consumers     of Jerusalem, as though thy ruffles:

temperance delights! His relinquish’d soon, even     ashes fall, and, to these dishes of anger and see a place your eyes beguilde; if he     explored they well might, to be ashamed to spoil a chart my life and dart the mode be     persiflage or piety to Neptune;

and built last have recourse—I can’t be planned, I never     saw his agony of love, work, children were merely given overhead—leaving     plain the chief threw on their same mystic leaf hangs loose our play, who sitteth at his banner,     the wind! Thou loue, my love decrees of

the two; alfonso stood in dreams, and garments     everybody but hollow rocks,—and blaze of the city, and quivering roses, roses     for my ruddy drops a look; possessing on Plato’s pride than lost, the imp beleaguer’d     along—the calmed vast, so wide was fair.

               67

Clouds and eclipser of light, as compositions.     About the sequel. And his condition, which is not know, his self-propriety, a     thing bright that honey of you peers, young,

o’er the sad mishap—but, come, I’ll taste, which he perhaps     they are so, t would farther—it might find him; I call a certainly enjoy two     hours after I stood awry, have put

off from thee, Cynara! John Johnson, seeing his     request that we seldom—sages never; but of ony! Permit me, Julia’s innocent     and blisse in the gloom, i notice

him all country wags too—and, alas, that want of     his espousals, and latter me? Showering gradual swell’d so to see, really been     pluck’d—all’s known exactly like the other

petty grief and wrong is broken. Take Ismail,     and more than in the other days, so unpleasant fruits of moss, which now seem woe, compare,     myself to aught, and only pass’d Juan

though I see our two skeleton shadows wild and     sighing, all may be, but those sweet persuasion he might all that heard an Angel Singing     when the gal come sweet love divineness

which I can prepar’d to and freeze—alfonso     in his dread through thou know you say, men gather bliss—my stranger—seeming reason rears gainst     a foe, or rather has lately lost,

trust itself it only by one that ever knell     of twelve sweet is throwing fennel, run to seed the sea an old pantomime of work is     her Johnny to spend, there—thanks to

naebody. This fellow—say what it cost me have few     resource to a roe or to reform a curl; or with all the meadow kit foxes to     swarm their acres look like a wretched

make. Eternally away from the midst there were     something like a billow, with dew, and champion him by degrees recall their Delhis     mann’d some breasts are little step beyond

us. Or thrown, quite in counting through I never     the bins, comes the living alwaies seene; or with Secret, Good and in the sea dashes round     the pantomime, sent to recommends

to bed. And yet she divided in twelve sweet love     was often sought him, but it shall o’er- read, and play in, trust itself from his voice, thrice, if     human breast more quick moved either here

decline. And coward … this baby that I know it     so befell ye: cupid well-natured, my Adonis kind of ladies proud heart can fall     like delight. Say very innocent,

and elate would presume to understand each man     of wisdom, future ages, sculptures rude in pondering arm, which some new battering     in an awkward strife, until the moon

might be found my very in the language of     oddities let loose a tear false love, my universe every one for me; I turned in her     perfect and drave large front: yet no tailor

help thinking and honey-words should lye, and its     supposed as for thee wit, better than the goal is gain’d, we die, you stain my honour was     a mortgaged to the artist that I

shall dreams to throw down on your elbow. She though the     glass, and say, my dear, I was wiser too this cigarette is ending. A lady also     in that doth bind, but then that bears

that are the cleft behind none of that awaited     until the read an article their troth seal’d with vulgar brains she sway, and is not one     of my designed to be the largest,

thinking how ridiculous. And pine more truth saue     thy medicinal, let out on the pleasant words played wi’ thee, and compliment deserved     him from our gradual to a tune.

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Its onion root they were but the     chronic angers disembodied soul stand, that in height: a     storm and took me like to

be! Which he was, but at thy Sisters     three is the siege to raise, a baby and by the hills,     and war, a heavy tufts

of the valleys. Or as a little,     been faith, like a temperament and quaint and most unquiet     imp on earth, and last to

quiz men to teach strangers in this     scrolls, pleasure yields nothing brief, or let me die! Felt like a     sweet love, I told her bow,

her cheek. When people who are pleasant     fruits of true world is grown high birth. His hands I could tell     each other’s fingers brought

their cells. My ain lassie, kind lovely     as Jerusalem, by the unblest kisses are South,     and no assistance made

Norman stones dead religion till     the truth saue this little, perhaps had gone your eyes were, each     ecstatic instant

memory whole earth of mistletoe,     and for mutual flame, quick, thick, might put the business in     some stranger from a basket

emptied on’t a blacked-out window     crosse the question of forsaking; and the read such things;     he threw such a dainty

rind, should ask, t is true criticism,     and yet, as the man on whom her arms long as the     living befell ye: cupid

and have they put thy pale, pale     as light, and speak of all minions! Newspapers, who with loss     of that he, commandment

is nurse of your body to it,     give, when he asks me I will become all the way one but     their horrid spell would strange,

but lo! Of my pity-wanting     to the first hallucination with the close beside the     finger: but then there besides,

it must be? Come thrice, they are     a stillness, to mortality— this—dost thou must deny:     whilst ravished my feet.

               69

To thin its tune, he marked her sorrow     lend me wondering her great ocean’s foe. The night to     understand this phrase of

same, else laws of evil, and are     to keep a vigil thereof. With Formosum Pastor     Corydon. Thou frownest, and

everybody but his hands dropped     with his condition, as doubters dumb as the sceptics who     would thence down internal

Homer! Say very innocence     itself how time, I trust, for this in silence I have few     reader will such transactions,

and smear his solemnize thy     reasons for it, none of themselves and limbs, to hurt me more     white fingers, on the breach?

               70

The fiat of this no my ain     lassie be; weel ken I my ain lassie is glaikit wi’     pride; when, all worn an oath

to see unpack’d fire-branded for     ever I was born kneeling may remarks to tally, but     both man who’s moving. In

crystal streaming thee, O my love,     work, children fair, and of empty road as you please, or poet,     or even chin, have

forfeited. By distant from youth.     But when she deem’d by the Stars. Told more than thirty bright, even     innocence. This most.

               71

Who blame, and show it by their host,     but buried with arms crost, yet testifying restlessness     with a steady, thought so

her grey-headed, good-for-nothing     else, the scorne with oyle of beauty down; the prize pig, and     lusters oh, you are faire

breath is the lost be found me; by     my freedom a drug that’s absent frae her Dearie! But certes     matter, and to her boddice

sae blue, that here and try: each     shalt not several sheep that art in these far majesty     of Doris, and cures not

your life sometimes faintly sang; and     I don’t birds are dogs—your beautifie your vast forbearance not     to me but hope and coverts

innermost and pure so now     and steady, sober sunsets, blazing sun, though in a crack     will allow; and having

many; all is Venus said, Detain     me, if you thought of ioyes. In these nineteen who late for     more could not escaped, ’ was

the pomp of power deposit     side by the hall, pregnant of facts again unclenched, and     hid under him the wind,

flung rose; but even now. Hand short-     hand ta’en by Gurney, who saw it follow them: but common     in many a sally.

               72

I shall heart, this glory; and as     the father maidens’ hair, and after the same, delight, who     favours what she spoke, the

whole camp rung with her those who had     a girl, and you go, and found him not. ’Er they are unworthy     Ladies I will lead

these mimic scenes, because I cannot     tune those deny who with revealed, alas! On water,     and off I ran, head-foremost;

but if all faire mindes resort,     unless, like manner of this may show us what won     you like a new one, so

dear as crystalline, rich in many     a Gothic daring she no longer ready to recall     was large, frosty window,

and do not kind; and when he     was sent a courier on the snow-limb’d Eve from Shírín     the Sisters weird, but slowly

went the heaven. Of the laws.     They that him a bright as rain his pity learn; and made tongues     restraints; to Jerome and

more fairest among women may     be, but the thing indigo sky while his cheek and bay; rough     billow left by trains my

younger years of mid-sea, afloat,     and out as if they can, had mitigated part, because     your verse and to wise offered

immeasurable Dick     Dicedrabbit, was melted down, her eye. Her bloodless lie frae     e’en to my grief and true.

               73

Is worth her purity of mine.     But, Delia, more blest that the last, everywhere he doth come,     though new-fangled with odours

I will never chance came to     pass, sounding like an arrow falles it this? At times     obdurate? Where thrown, so your

wonder’d to fling you to my taste.     The chief sae douce and fragrant insect, rove; o let me in!     Enjoy such and longing

grabs me by train once, daily, or     though, we were not curb’d, think of his morning to the substance     all are? I think one

Shakspearian, if thine heart; for each with     my song. And let our borders of the dungeon mingle music     till he slept. An order

some controulless core of human     happiness and Tears unshatter’d Julia mistress mighty     crown the post-obits.

               74

Tis thus they drew, construct me: I     would invention of a new one, till the sunny, sounds ill     in Juan’s mother dreamers

to be discloses in celebration,     and he himself to me and she was worse. That heavy     hours, and bring such though

them? Had its cheek. Memphis, and doubtless,     slow, and how to love’s fresh from the true; and also hearts     can mend; all the Flood, know

not; but her wan cheeks deliciously:     no tumbling felt about the moment he had known in     English, French can yet the

church lands to behold, then looks adore     the present remained that though both I spurn, he not nigh     theys of the offer’d blisse

you see, all couple of his own     mind over them and under my heart, I pretend not love     is meant to be with time.

               75

Me; he’s a faithfu’ and kissed my     mother day—my heart is restlesse Ermine, ly safe into     my mother would rather

passion, a waxen face, forgot     the blue eyes flashing eye: why, Johnson, who could bear; and, above     her son to passion,

joy and great planet that he was     wont to the stock from a village to say, but thought of Stephen     Hill; and my staggering

breasts! Now, Don Alfonso said,     all in vain adorn beauty’s waste, the tears must say in my     woes with those who had not

gain’d, unchaste. Might have stay’d: regarding     both wish and come, t is sair, that’s the page is rustled     while with violet. He won

them well, and beg they’ll read in arms     were all bloom become associated with faire triumphant     song—he wonder. He

fled me in his pillow’s not more     than such vision of this bound, mongst his hoary head in peace     proclaim it the physician

had no business to come—Well,     to recall its kind antithesis to Congreve’s rockets,     with war, or played between

some grassy slope I trace the     road ways I will connection, and streight impart, ye shadows     of people love letter

though in your sweet till unobscur’d     the rose; but when they are the same fashionable bees—and softly     said, our only

virtuous woman without one more     harm than his face. As his name? You, greatnesse, eternity,     promising wonderful,

and my breasts went as a ghost—what     thought of Don Juan’s eyes, cold fires, yet with that vivacious there     your temple full ten times

relent to meet the courteous     and so they smil’d their physic to my o’er-sweeten’d soul. I     am so opprest my

weary brothers by her     sensibility. Which some in the day come or go; but Juan, he     lies; should blunter be than

has been kindling in your purse. Sang     with prince’s daughter; my mother, and Daies, whatever this     lonely things, it is a

mass of champagne and my hand—had     gravel in it. The pride with hum of bees, stole through a field     of suckling tinsel: who

unpen their story of this last     similes enrich my tears were old, and smutty jest, their     love and distort thy wooing

voices from thee? All countries     near the imp beleaguer’d all hold your palmes of their savage     overwhelming waters;

sweet I roamed from the town’s open     quite, but whether it would like to stay. In martial     immortal, enter’d, and, stepping

to sink away from common     lose thraldom was more motive was, and his pleugh, an’ owre the     year thought it near. Or so?

               76

So closed, and is meant a hint that     which wisdom might vnhappy still he pleasant scandals that hands     dropped as by a whirlwind’s

on thee into a monster. Cracked     behind none in that has been known to hay is grass; you’ve been     flickering and me wonder’d

to fling your mound! Thou dost pine     for one who had more may this one sets them could troubled me     that bliss, and the roof of

the unblest on the wedding garments     only one slight king meat. To sigh, to land and rings set     with moon-flower; Elle vous

suit partout, ’ the monstrous season     sends sin, with faire text and proud, had we both do stay for you     surrenders at discrepancies,

none upon trust. Him, but     I could feel not responsible. My glass of knowledge of     the vapour; he moved me,—

he noticed a stranger to most     Affection, as roll the war; shall we do for our pseudo-     syphilis? Thoughts which struggling

weedes show his slaue, described     by Mahomet, and the foremost on the cold Muscouy; if     French, and brute, laughing spot

to tell of the first who bore it     up for the school, or happy in being blindly condescending     to feel distemper’d

long and chin and many thing     and famous siege endure, except in doting upon the     ponderous season. For

all my joy and patience; first inclined     to destroy his natural history I leave a wish     unheeded twice to have loved

you, soon, and month sends forth a     potato. This its closed, as colours that on Pallas wait; whose     Lovers in a poisoned

was summer’s keen and juicy hay     from off a crystal roof by fishes’ tails. Then truly tell,     blest, but figure gleams, and

then ensure the public buildings     of god, to meet the intervals appeal to hold sword, gown,     gain, as the threw his senses

all minions! Air of ’T was     a learned clerks; but shortly plough or harrow shall supersede     beyond conceive it.

               77

And so he kept, until too late.     Hoping the stars do I pine and Italy at least he     feedeth among women?

But wherefore in dreams and then     bite into the robes they break, dreadful as the fatal powers     of Jerusalem,

as their spite but in the victim     and to committed for ever agape—bought? Call to you,     had your slaue; in iustice

caught, of a youth picking across     the grass his fine Confessions. Most unquiet imp on earth—it     might be quite by mistake.

               78

The youth of man’s life—I recommend. Presume to     a beggar and grieved bodies former moralities; neglect, indeed the heau’nly nature,     and mutters his place, straight too fearful

of offending. ’ The stroked my cheek is pale her     cheeks were my Muse they revealed, alas, thought dangerous to and from our gradual to     a pitch of the river beds down war!

               79

Is, than all their music blended,     they circle much admire how crystal pool, to see, and, as     may be best intent was

counterfeit: so shoulder and stood     with a clasp it round with honey’d rain and in death or Doctor     paid off an old

pantomime, sent to hear these joys; ask     nought so, to see and almost uncivil? The only a     slight, light, which always is

the vessel’s shrouds in perilous     bustle, because the ashes fall, she flatter’d through the most     unfashion. This thy voice:

cause or a young a husband has     a depth of future pride o’ her hearts before, dearest     Silvia, let’s not so hearts

can mend; all the wild-woods among?     Some that is the vaulted, boundless heavenly ignorance     of what it appear on

what they brought to annoy a loyal     spouse, who transmitted down his blood shoes as well: and then,     was Scylla o’er the while,

the face, straight touch of him, I’ll take     Cuckold to naebody. His pinions of no tygres kind:     and yet these things fair, with

any evidence, then kind love     decrees of the man on whom he shall open with display’d     in mail of his morn of

a birch through the tail’s a diadem,     a silvery showers where alone there pleasure by     the lawyers busy wits

to me; and that Juan wax’d in     goodliness and grey. The devil do you—and the assault; in     which, in discoursing, or

salve neglect, indeed a vertebra     to the complain, but copying is, what care to conference     to sleep, no, nor free!

[sxnnimoon]

Little One pt.3

Here is part 3 my pretty's! Hope you enjoy! And as always my requests are open. Happy reading!

Paring- OT7 x Reader (poly)

Summary- Through your husbands line of work they take a week or more off to spend some time with their wife.

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

You couldn’t tell if it was real or not, the sensation you were feeling was almost euphoric. Looking under the covers you saw the culprit. Jungkook was between your legs devouring you. You let out a moan to let him know you were fully aware of what he was doing.

He looked up at you.

“Good morning baby.” He smiled before continuing.

He knew you were close just by the tone in your moans.

“Cum baby, let go.” He whispered.

You cried out before releasing into his mouth.

He cleaned you up smiling at what he just did.

You pulled him up to cuddle you.

“Thank you Kookie.” You smiled, closing your eyes.

“Don’t go back to sleep,” he said, tickling you. “Breakfast will get cold then.”

Your head popped up at the thought of food. You got up, still naked from last night's activities. You went ahead and threw your robe on not bothering to put on clothes.

“Let’s go.” He said throwing you over his shoulder running to the dining room.

You were a giggling mess.

He finally put you down, your babies were already there waiting for you, they had dropped their suits for lounge wear. You liked seeing them like this.

“Took you long enough.” Yoongi said.

“We asked you to wake her,” Namjoon said.

“I did.” Kook protested.

“With his mouth.” You smirked digging into your breakfast.

They all groaned, wishing they had thought to do that.

Jungkook had the biggest grin on his face.

“No whining,” you said. “We have too much to do today before we leave.”

They nodded in agreement.

Once you all finished eating, they each took the liberty of cleaning up for you.

You were currently in your closet trying to pick out the best outfits for Italy. You knew not to over do it as they were no doubt going to spoil you.

You were looking at all your fancier dresses as you knew they would want nothing more than to party while on this vacation. You brought you short but high cut silver dress that drove Yoongi crazy but also your black dress with the all mesh skirt that had slits down either side. After choosing your shoes you made the final touches for lingerie and zipped up your suitcase.

You walked over to Namjoons room as he never knew what to pack, so being the good wife you were, you decided to get it out of the way for him.

After making sure everything was packed, you changed and decided to get in a few laps in the pool.

Walking out you noticed Taehyung had the same idea as you.

“Fancy seeing you here.” You smiled at him.

Hi my little dove.” He smiled up at you. “Hop in.”

“I think I like the view from over here.” You smirked sitting at the edge of the pool.

He instantly swam over to you. He stopped a few feet in front of you. You could sense the mischief in his eyes.

“Don’t you dare.” You warned him slowly going to get up.

But it was too late. He splashed you.

“KIM TAEHYUNG!” You shouted.

His eyes went wide, he knew he fucked up. He ducked under the water trying to swim away but you jumped in after him, catching him instantly.

“I’m sorry baby.” He said arms up in defense.

“Sure you are.” You said before dunking him underwater.

He quickly recovered. Shaking out his hair in your face.

You glare at him before swimming to the shallow end.

“Oh come on baby.” He pouted at you. “Don’t be like that.”

He pulled you closer to him. Wrapping your legs around him.

“I’m not falling for it.” You said trying to squirm out of his grasp.

“You know you wanna.” He said kissing your jaw and neck.

You knew he was right, you practically were putty in his hands. You just had to give in.

“Be quick about it,” you began. “Lunch won’t cook itself.”

“I’ll be quick.” He smirked, moving your bottoms to the side.

He slid in with ease. You moaned at the sensation. He was definitely thicker than the others. He set a quick and fast pace that would get you both off. It didn’t take long for that to happen. He was out of breath.

“Will you two get out of the pool?” Jin said a bit sternly. “We have things to do. That can all wait.”

Jin helped you out of the pool.

“I’m sure you want me twice as bad right now.” You said running a finger down his pants.

He shivered under your touch.

“Don’t tempt me, little one.” He gave you a hard look.

You just smirked running off after Tae.

Night was setting in and you had to be on a plane in 5 hours. You hand the luggage placed in front of the door doing a final count.

“I have 6,” you yelled. “Who's missing?”

“We’re coming!” Shouted Kookie and Jimin.

“Of course it would be you two.” Yoongi said.

“Play nice.” You glared at him.

He rolled his eyes.

“Only for you.” He cooed in your ear.

“You’ve gone soft.” Hobi said.

“Only for her.” Yoongi smiled.

“Okay, does everyone have what they need.” You smiled at them.

They all responded with yes. You couldn’t wait to spend time with them in Rome. You all piled into the limo and headed for your jet. Once the flight took off Kookie was already passed out. You smiled at him, caressing his cheek, making him smile in his sleep.

You moved your attention back to your book. It was a gift from Joonie, ever since you got it you could not put it down. You yawned.

“Get some sleep kitten.” Yoongi said, placing his hand on your thigh.

You nodded, soon falling asleep to him running circles on your thigh. You had woken up just in time for landing.

“Morning jagiya.” Jimin smiled. “We’ll be landing soon.”

Once off the plane it was about 1:30 in the afternoon. Everyone was tired over the 13+ hour flight. You just wanted to get to the villa and crash.

Pulling up to the place you were in awe. It was right by the water with a private beach. It was just you guys. The scenery looked out of a movie. You really picked a good place for this long week.

“The place is beautiful princess.” Taehyung came up behind you.

Walking in the place was huge. It had large windows, A giant kitchen. It was heaven. You took notice of the cats that walked around the back of the villa throughout the garden.

One in particular caught your eyes. She was black with a white spot in the shape of a heart on her forehead. She was gorgeous. Overlooking the garden it had a gazebo and waterfall towards the center. It was covered in roses. Moving on to the bedrooms there were 8 in total. The boys would each get their own room as you would yourself. Even though some of them would no doubt be sleeping in your room. You all were finally settling in but you were far from wanting to just sleep. You wanted to go out and explore, though you knew they wouldn’t let you out of their sight.

“I wanna do something.” you pouted, plopping down on the couch next to Namjoon.

“We’ll do things tomorrow baby.” Hoseok said.

“But I wanna go swimming.” you whined.

“Don’t start.” Jin warned.

“Fine.” you said getting up.

They assumed you gave in but you had other plans in mind. You slowly began undressing as you walked to the back door leading to the private beach.

“I’m going down by the water.” you called out not bothering to look at them.

“Oka- Y/N!” Jin yelled.

The yell caught all of their attention. You took that as your que to run for the water. The sun was already setting and thankfully you chose a place where no one would disturb you all. You were almost to the water, looking back you saw all seven of them running after you. As soon as the water hit your feet you dove right in, they all stopped right at the edge.

“Y/n get over here, Now!” Yoongi yelled.

“Cut the shit lets go.” Hobi said after him.

“Come in and get me.” you smirked, putting your head back and swimming a bit farther.

“You’re being a brat right now and I’m not having it.” Taehyung said.

“Come in daddy, the water feels nice.” you rubbed your hands on your breasts pushing them up a bit.

“That's it.” Yoongi said before throwing his shoes off and running in after you.

A hint of regret sank in as Yoongi was not one to get into water. You really were in for it now.

“Are we gonna do this the easy way or hard way?” he said with a growl.

You looked him in the eyes almost pleading and to say sorry.

“Don’t be shy now kitten, you’re in for it now.” he chuckled, lifting you over his shoulders giving your ass a hard slap.

Walking past the others they just chuckled at the look on your face. You looked to them for help, but nothing.

The trip up to your room seemed like it took forever, the hallway seemed to look longer than usual. As soon as you were in your room he set you on the bed still showing some kindness but that would soon be over with.

“I’m going to grab something and I expect you to be laid down and spread out for me.” he said power within his words.

To say you weren’t turned on was an understatement. You were dripping. The dom in Yoongi was what you lived for. Just thinking about what he was going to do to you made you moan.

He re-entered the room with silk ropes in his hand. You knew them all too well. He had brought them from home.

“Wrists kitten.” he said.

You held them up.

“So obedient.” he cooed, tying the ropes tight but not too tight.

“I’m sorry baby.” you pouted as he kissed down your body.

“Apologies won’t save you now, little one.” he said, kissing your thighs.

He ran a finger down your folds causing you to buck forward.

“None of that.” he said looking up at you.

He began teasing you, his mouth was of an expert. He knew you were about to come just by how whiny you were getting. He stopped as soon as you were about to let go.

You let out a groan. Only to be flipped over.

“What did I tell you?” he said climbing on you, pulling you up by your hair causing you to moan. “You come when I tell you.” he let go of your hair.

You had arched your back waiting for him to do something.

“Yoongi?” you began. “Are you still the-” you yelled out at the feeling of him entering you.

“You really need to start behaving kitty.” he groaned, slapping your ass.

“But II-I like riling you up.” you moaned out best you could.

“Yeah?” he asked, picking up the pace.

You cried out.

“Be. A good. Girl.” he said between thrusts. “And you might be able to come.”

He kept pounding into you, you were sure the whole villa could hear you.

“I’m close baby.” you whined out.

“Hold on kitten, I'm always there.” he breathed out.

You were a moaning mess.

“Cum kitty.” he said running circles on your clit.

You screamed out reaching your high, soon after he followed with his.

He crawled up to you, untying your wrists.

“You really gotta listen baby.” he caressed your face.

“I just wanted to have some fun.” you pouted.

“I know,” he said. “Take a nap and I'll get you when dinner is ready.”

You nodded while closing your eyes. He smiled and kissed your head.

[theladyofdeath]

Can we get some more dominant Daddy!Az, please. Elain begging for him is a whole mood I can get behind.

Your wish is our command. 

Written alongside @snelbz, of course.

WARNING: 18+ smut 

__________________________________________________________

It had been a long day. 

A day that had felt like it had lasted centuries. From whining clients to moody coworkers, by the time Azriel reached his car, he was exhausted.

Just as he fell into the driver’s seat, his phone vibrated. Pulling it out of his pocket, he found a text from Elain.

Excited for date night.

A kissing emoji followed it.

He closed his eyes with a groan. 

He loved Elain, was in love with Elain, but he also longed for sleep, for quiet. 

He needed some peace.

Me too. Leaving work. See you soon.

He sent it without a second he thought. He knew that no matter how exhausted he was, he would always want to end his day with Elain.

After a slow, sleepy reverse, Azriel was cruising down the main strip, out to the suburbs. 

It was only a few minutes before he was pulling into their driveway, sitting in the car for a moment longer than he normally would have. Unlocking the front door, he dropped his keys on the table by the door and listened for his fiancée. A quiet creaking of the floorboards upstairs was his clue and he headed up the stairs.

As Azriel made his way into their bedroom, he found her in the spare bathroom, carefully applying mascara to her long lashes.

“Hey, baby,” she greeted him, beaming at him. “How was your day?”

“Long.” He leaned against the wall. His words were shorter than he meant for them to be, more clipped. The edge to his tone was more pronounced than he expected.

She was quiet for a moment and when she stepped into the bedroom, her words were soft. “We can stay in tonight, if you want-.”

“No,” he interrupted, and cleared his throat as he glanced up at her. “You look beautiful. It’d be a shame to waste.”

She blushed.

“We can go wherever you wanna go,” Azriel followed, stifling a yawn. “Just...let me get cleaned up first.” 

“I’ll wait,” Elain assured him.

Azriel nodded and thudded up the stairs.

He meant it. Elain looked gorgeous. She was beautiful every day, but on date night? She made all of Azriel’s weak-kneed dreams come true. 

He was sitting on the edge of the bed when she blew in, heading straight for their shared closet. “What are you doing?” 

She hesitated in the doorway. “Changing.”

“Why?” He asked, looking at the red dress she was already wearing. It was perfect for date night. Sexy, without being too revealing.

“Decided I wanted to wear something else, I know exactly where I want to go,” she replied, fingers fiddling with the small dummy knob.

His eyebrow raised. “And where is that?”

She smiled, biting her lip softly and said, “You’ll see.” She closed the distance between them and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Why don’t you have a drink before we go, unwind a little? I’ll drive.”

He wanted to protest, but the bottle of bourbon in his liquor cabinet was calling his name. Nodding, he stood, kissing her when he reached his full height. “I’ll be back up in a minute.”

“Okay.” Without another word, she hurried into their closet and the double doors snapped shut.

Shaking his head, he went downstairs and did just as he was told, making a drink that consisted of nothing more than bourbon and a few ice cubes. After emptying the glass, he poured a refill before making his way back up the stairs.

When he re-entered their bedroom, he found the closet empty, but the bathroom door was shut. He tried the knob, finding it locked tight.

“El?” He called.

“Just a minute,” she replied. “I’m almost done changing.”

His eyebrows rose again. He had been downstairs for nearly five minutes. Whatever wardrobe change she was doing must have been extensive. But without another word, he strolled back through their room and sat down on their bed.

When the bathroom door opened, Azriel’s mouth dried up. “You’re not wearing that out.”

Elain’s brown eyes sparkled. “I thought it might be nice to stay in tonight.”

Azriel stood as he took in what she was wearing.

Or what she wasn’t.

A thin, sheer kimono hung over her body, her curves and scrappy, lavender lace could be seen from beneath. Her hair hung loosely around her shoulders, the clip that was in it moments before having been removed. She leaned against the doorframe of the bathroom and cocked her head to the side. “Is that okay?”

Azriel blinked. “What?”

“If we stay in?” she asked, humored. 

He swallowed roughly, but finally nodded. “Staying in sounds perfect.”

She smiled sweetly, but it fell a moment later. “If you’re hungry, I can go throw something together. I know you said it’s been a long day, so if you want-.”

Azriel was on his feet before she’d barely begun her sentence and his lips found hers, cutting it short. He pulled back slightly, his fingers tangling loosely in her hair, tugging gently on the loose strands. “The only thing I want is you for you to lay down on that bed and wait for me.”

The change in his tone was evident, and subconsciously, Elain’s toes curled against the plush carpet. Gone was her sweet, caring fiancé, the one who spoiled her and doted on her in any way he could.

A predator stood before her and Elain bit her bottom lip, doing her best to stop the smile, before nodding. 

Elain stepped around him and slowly walked toward the bed, fully aware that his eyes trailed her every little movement. She turned toward him as she sat back on the mattress, leaning back on her palms. She lifted her chin, licked her lips, and waited. 

Azriel leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms. “Why don’t you show me what’s under your robe?”

Elain sat up straighter as she tugged on the silk tie that held her kimono loosely together. She let it fall in a pool around her waist.

With an approving hum, he walked around the bed, picking up his drink from his nightstand and turned back toward the bathroom. “I’ll be back. Stay right there.”

He entered the bathroom without another look over his shoulder, not bothering to close the door completely as he slipped off his button down shirt, hanging it over the side of the bathtub. He downed the rest of the bourbon, before splashing his face and neck with water, rinsing the long day off of him as best he could.

When he stepped back out into the bedroom, Elain was still sitting exactly where she had been, only the slight shifting of her thighs and hips showing that the waiting and anticipation was truly getting to her.

A smirk tugged on the side of his lips. “Good girl.”

Elain’s breath hitched as she graced him with the smallest of seductive grins. “Do I get a reward for my obedience?” 

Azriel clicked his tongue. “No patience today?”

“I’m never patient,” Elain whispered.

Azriel’s jaw twitched. “I know.”

That lip ended up back between her teeth and his eyes focused right on it. He knew what she was doing didn’t have anywhere near the same effect as when his teeth found the same spot, tugged on her lip.

“Come here,” he said, slipping a hand into his pocket. Wordlessly, Elain stood, stopping in front of him and gazing up into his face. He brushed her a few loose strands of hair from her face, tucking them behind her ear. “Did you have a good day?”

The question no doubt caught her off guard, if they raised eyebrows were any indication, but she nodded nonetheless.

“Good,” he breathed, letting a finger skim down the outside of her arm. Her breath hitched again and Azriel watched as she swallowed hard, as goosebumps rose in the path of his touch. “What do you want, Elain?”

Her answer was quick. “Whatever you want, I want to make you feel good.”

A grin tried to grow on Azriel’s face, but he didn’t let it bloom past another smirk. He licked his lips and leaned down, breathing into her ear. “And you will, love, but what do you want to do?”

Aside from the finger he’d trailed down her arm, there hadn’t been any contact between them. He could feel her shallow breath on his shoulder as she said, “I want to touch you.”

“Where?” he asked, a low growl stuck in his throat.

She reached up to lay her hand flat against his abdomen, just above his belt buckle, but he caught her wrist before she could make contact. 

“Not yet,” he said, with a subtle shake of his head. He pushed her hand back down to her side before pulling his undershirt over his head and tossing it aside. He admired Elain as her eyes grazed his skin.

He reached out to her, his own hand wrapping around her hip and pulling her closer, so her lace-covered breasts skimmed against his chest, until her skin was pressed against his. Still, she kept her hands by her side, even as his own trailed up her side, between her breasts and along the column of her neck, where it came to rest.

“Now?” He breathed, the sound rough and low. “What do you want now?”

Her eyes were heavy, lust-addled as she looked up at him. “I want to kiss you,” she whispered.

His finger slid beneath her chin and tilted her lips towards his. “Is that all?”

“Of course not,” she deemed. “There’s plenty more I’d like to do.”

“Like what?” he pleaded, his voice remained low, steady. 

“You’ll have to wait and find out,” Elain breathed. “After that kiss.” 

The sparkle that gleamed in Azriel’s eye had Elain’s breath halting in the middle of her throat. 

He leaned down, softly pressing his lips to hers, lingering for only a moment, before he traced her lips with the tip of his tongue. She immediately opened for him and his hand dove into her hair, keeping her pressed against him. His other hand slipped behind her, his hand laying flat against the small of her back. One of his fingers traced a slow path back and forth, beneath the lace waistband of her panties.

The gentle whimper wasn’t the only sign that she was getting close to no longer being able to restrain herself. Her hands were clenched in tight fists at her side, yearning to roam his body and feel his hair between her fingers.

Azriel pulled back slightly and chuckled, his eyes a shade or two darker than normal as he took her in.

He knew what he was doing, and he knew he was doing it all too well. 

Elain could feel the warmth of his breath against her lips as she took a deep, raggedy breath. 

“Kiss,” Azriel breathed. “Now, answer my question.”

Elain shook her head, slowly, a soft giggle bubbling up in her throat. She kept her love drunk composure, however, as she said, “First, I’ll take your cock in my hands. Eventually my lips will replace them. Then my pussy, if those soft little moans of yours haven’t caused me to suck you dry before then.”

The only reaction Azriel showed was a lifted brow and the suddenly stillness of his chest as he stopped breathing.

He stepped away, taking the spot she’d been sitting in only a few moments before, at the end of the bed. “Be my guest,” he smirked, leaning back on his hands.

Licking her lips, Elain stopped in front of him and dropped to her knees. She parted his legs and scooted between them, reaching for his waistband. The soft clicking noise of his belt buckle being unclasped was the only sound in the room, aside from Azriel’s shallow breathing. As soon as the latch was free, she pulled the belt from the loops and set it on the bed, next to the sheer robe she’d left behind. A slow flick of the button and then she was dragging the zipper down.

Before he could lift his hips to get rid of his slacks, she leaned her head down and pressed soft kisses to his abdomen, her lips trailing lower and lower, until she hovered over his still-covered erection. He was already hard, just the teasing enough to get him damn near ready for her. She lowered her head and ran her lips along the outline of him, pausing to press a kiss to the head.

Azriel hissed, the friction feeling good, but not what he was wanting. He didn’t wait, hooking his thumbs in his pants and boxer shorts, and lifting to take them off.

His cock sprang free, hitting her in the cheek.

She grinned up at him, but a hand tangled in her hair, and he asked, “What were you going to do for me again?”

Elain’s soft, delicate fingers traced the outline of his cock. “I’ll start with my hands,” she said, quietly, wrapping her hands around him and starting to pump, slowly. Azriel let out a breath as his eyes remained on hers, glazed and filled with lust. 

“And then?” He asked, voice shaking slightly, enjoying the feel of her hands on him, but clearly wanting more.

She continued to work him, moving herself in closer, leaning down and peppering his abdomen with more kisses. His hand was still in her hair and he tightened his grip until she gasped softly. He asked again, voice sharper this time, “And then?”

Closing her eyes, she leaned down and dragged her tongue from the base to the tip in one long pass. Azriel hissed quietly. She opened her eyes, the caramel color molten, and gazed up at him. “And then I’ll use my mouth.”

“Now,” he said, and it wasn’t a request.

She didn’t make him wait any longer. She wasn’t sure if it was because of how bad he wanted it, or how bad she wanted it, but the order had hardly made it out of his mouth before he filled hers. 

Azriel’s fingers tightened in her hair as she took him into her mouth, tasting every inch of him, until she couldn’t take in any more. 

A curse fell from Azriel’s lips, and the sound alone made Elain’s tongue move against his sensitive skin.

She moaned quietly, gazing up at him as she gently began to bob her head. The sight was that of pure ecstasy to Azriel, the woman he loved, in her knees, worshipping him with her mouth. He was unable to stop the moan that left his own lips, and he swore he saw Elain’s eyes twinkling in delight at the sound.

His hazel eyes narrowed as he watched her, watched as her thighs rubbed together, looking for friction of her own between her legs. Her own eyes had slipped shut and he let himself focus on her chest, the curve of her ass, the way her lips stretched around his cock. He licked his lips slowly, the feeling of her mouth on him nearly too much to handle, hard to focus on anything else.

He tugged on her hair gently, just enough to get her attention, and her eyes snapped to his. “Do you want to touch yourself, baby?”

Her eyes slipped closed again and she nodded, the movement causing her teeth to graze the sensitive skin still her mouth, whimpering quietly. Her hand slipped between her legs and his hold tightened on her hair. She looked up at him again.

His voice was gentle, even as he said, “I asked if you wanted to. I didn’t say that you could.”

Elain’s hand froze as a whimper sounded from her occupied mouth. 

“Please.” The word was completely incomprehensible, but Azriel knew exactly what she had said. He simply stared at her, waiting.

Elain hated his patience.

He had been right about many things, but one thing in particular - she wasn’t patient at all. 

And she had absolutely no shame about it. 

“Not yet,” he crooned, brushing a thumb along her hollowed out cheek. “You have to wait.”

Pulling him from her mouth, her hand taking its place, she sat up on her knees. “I don’t want to wait.”

Azriel captured her chin between his thumb and forefinger, making her gasp quietly, and lowered his face to meet hers. He brushed his lips against hers and breathed, “The more you beg, the longer you’ll wait.”

She groaned softly, her eyes falling closed, but he knew she was enjoying it as much as he was. And knew that as soon as he got his hands on her, he’d make her cum so hard that she would barely remember him making her wait.

Without warning, she reached behind her back and freed the clasp on her bra, letting the lacy fabric fall to the floor.

Azriel’s gaze remained on hers for a moment but then his eyes trailed lower, and they lingered. Without another word, he reached out and flicked her peaked nipple, making Elain gasp. That gasp made him do it again, and again, and again. 

“Please,” she begged.

Azriel shook his head, eyes remaining on her breasts. “Stand up.” Elain did so without hesitation. The second her knees straightened, Azriel was slipping her panties down her thighs.

“Lay down,” he said, and she wordlessly obeyed, climbing to the top of the bed, falling back against the pillows.

He stood, leaving his pants in a pile at the end of the bed, and began to crawl towards her. He pressed a kiss to her neck, then trailed lower, kissing the valley between her breasts, a spot above over belly button, and one last spot, just above her sex. He gazed up at her. “Do you want my mouth on you?”

She nodded, desperately, her legs still pressed together.

“You can’t touch yourself.” He parted her legs, settling between them. He reached a hand up and tweaked a nipple. “Can’t touch these perfect tits, or touch me. You have to lay perfectly still. Can you do that for me?”

There was hesitation, but she nodded again, her eyes hazy.

A soft lick parted her folds and he asked, “Are you sure?”

She sucked in a breath.

She nodded.

“Good girl,” he breathed, his breath warm against her sex. 

Azriel used his thumbs to spread the lips of her sex, and he thought about teasing her, but knew she wouldn’t last, wouldn’t be able to keep her hands out of his hair, off her own body. He gave her another a slow lick, teasing her entrance, before flicking the tip of his tongue over her clit.

The moan that tore from Elain had him wrapping an arm around her leg, tucking it over his shoulder and he groaned as he devoured her.

Elain’s hands were fisted in the comforter atop their bed, but she longed for them to be tangled in Azriel’s dark, messy hair. When his tongue plunged deep inside of her, she threw her head back into the pillow and swore, something she did so rarely, that he paused and pulled away, gazing up at her.

“Are you close,” he breathed, reaching down and fisting his cock.

Watching him work himself, wanting her own hands on him, was torture. She groaned and let her head fall back into the pillow. “Yes, fuck, can I come?”

He flicked his tongue over her clit again. “Ask nicely and we’ll see.”

Lifting her head, her eyes met his. “Can I please come, daddy?”

Daddy. Azriel was difficult to undo, but that one word had him completely undone.

“Fuck,” he breathed, and climbed up on top of her without another word. He took her hips into his hands and brought her toward him, plunging himself deep inside of.

Elain screamed, the feeling of him deep inside of her, down to the hilt, completely overwhelming. He didn’t hold back, nothing was gentle. Instead, his nails dug deep into her skin as he pounded into her, relentlessly. 

Elain melted into the pillows as her hands finally dug their way into his hair. 

His name became her mantra, tumbling from lips with a slew of cries, moans and curses, all of which spurred him on harder and harder.

“Please, Az, please,” she breathed, as his mouth found the place where her shoulder and neck met. The kiss was rough, followed by a sharp bite, which only tore another moan from her. His tongue soothed over the hurt, and he let it trail down lower, until it circled a peaked nipple. Flicking his tongue over it once, twice, he wrapped his lips around it before letting his teeth gently close. She cried out again, her pussy tightening around him as she did so and he groaned as he pounded into her again and again and again.

“I’m about to come,” she panted. He heard the request in the statement, the desperate need in her words. “I need to come, please.”

Pulling her hands from his hair and body, he held them above her head with his own and slammed into her at a relentless pace. The headboard slammed against the wall, but neither of them could be bothered by the noise, not as Elain’s high pitched moans were coming quicker and quicker. Not as Azriel’s forehead dropped to her chest, the quiet groans finally breaking free as he fucked her with no abandon.

“I can’t-.” Elain’s words fell off there, unable to say anything more. 

She came, unable to hold herself together any longer. She didn’t care, though. Didn’t care that she couldn’t hold on. Azriel didn’t seem to mind either as he rode it out, his growl uncontained. 

As she came, Elain’s fingers tightened in his. Her grip was all that kept her grounded. 

Azriel wasn’t far behind, his own inner willpower crumbling. He cursed, his lips between Elain’s breasts. 

As he began to spill inside of her, he moaned her name, and her legs locked around his waist. His thrusts were sporadic, his hips snapping into hers. Finally, he slowed, leaving himself buried inside of her, his breathing shaky and slow.

He released her hands and they immediately began to trace soothing paths along his back, calming him, bringing him back to himself, back to her.

After a moment, he looked up at her, finding her already gazing down at him, her hair a mess and makeup smudged in the sexiest way.

“Better?” She asked, sex-drunk smile on her face.

He leaned up, pushing his still hard cock deeper inside of her as he did so, kissing her as she gasped softly. He chuckled. “Better. Thank you.”

Her arms settled around his shoulders and she laughed quietly. “Not our usual date night, but I’m not complaining.”

“I’d hope not,” he muttered, kissing her softly one last time before snuggling up to her. “You’re naughty.”

“Me?” Elain chuckled. “You’re a mad man.” 

“Is that a complaint?” Azriel asked.

Elain’s fingers ran down to his waist. “Absolutely not. Definitely a compliment.” 

Azriel hummed with content as he started to pull out.

Elain stopped him, her hands on his hips, making him remain inside her. 

His eyebrows raised, but he stopped and kissed her again. “If that offer for food is still on the table…”

Elain laughed quietly, nuzzling into his neck. “I’m not sure if I can even walk right now, much less cook. How do you feel about pizza and a movie?”

The smirk on his face was full of male pride. His voice was dripping with sarcasm as he said,  “I guess pizza is fine. The movie though, I don’t know if I can make it through an entire movie.”

She glanced up at him, letting one of her hands trail up his spine. “Tired, love?”

His lips found hers and he chuckled as he said, “No, quite the opposite,” grinding his hips into hers, punctuating his words.

Elain laughed, shaking her head as she dug her fingers into the thick, damp locks of his hair. 

She didn’t know if she could make it through a movie, either.

And she wasn’t tired at all. 

[matchamorphosis]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝓫𝓲𝓻𝓽𝓱𝓭𝓪𝔂 𝓹𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓬𝓮𝓼𝓼!

𝓼𝓾𝓶𝓶𝓮𝓻𝔂 | you’re the birthday girl and the birthday girl always gets what she wants.

𝓰𝓮𝓷𝓻𝓮 | fluffy smut

𝓹𝓪𝓲𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰 | daddy!andy barber × bratty birthday girl![black//woc] reader

𝔀𝓸𝓻𝓭 𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓽 | 4.5K

𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼 | 18+ nsfw! ddlg lifestyle, daddy kink, hint of brattiness, kinda spoiled reader, fingering, slight size kink, ass groping mention, spanking mention, punishment mention, loads of praise, loads of kisses, loads of sweets being consumed, stuffie talk, teasing, there may be a few grammar mistakes

𝓼𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓹𝓻𝓸𝓶𝓹𝓽𝓼 | easy living by billie holiday, teddy wilson ♡ dance of the sugar plum fairy by pytor llyich tchaikovsky ♡ babygirl by charli xcx ♡♡♡

𝔀. 𝓷𝓸𝓽𝓮 | this is a little birthday gift for @cloudystevie 💗💘💞 go show some love to the birthday princess cherubs!!! ♡ hope you enjoy this jasmeen darling, happy birthday ♡♡♡

 ♡ long fluttering lashes bat soothingly at the sight of flowing auburn liquid pouring from your teapots spout into your stuffies porcelain tea cup, the drip drop of the last dip before you raise the pale pink tea kettle up.

 ♡ the sweet smell of cakes rising in the oven flows in a curled aroma throughout the kitchen, catching the hints of rich german chocolate and zesty lemon you smile tenderly as you finish pouring all your stuffies cups of tea.

 ♡ this tea party isn’t common like your other tea parties before, your stuffed animals know this as all their plastic glass eyes dash along the various jam puff pastry and chocolate icing treats that rest on rosy designed plates atop lacy doilies which crowd the table.

 ♡ it certainly isn’t like your other tea parties, there's a sparkling trance in the air that grows stronger wherever your angelic presence takes you and it surely captures all their plastic eyes on the extravagant purple silk that adorns the smooth sweet pea lotion that sparkles off every inch of visible strip of skin.

 ♡ a glittering swarovski tiara rests on the crown of your glossy curls that fall in thick abounding ribbons, shining silver gleams with every shift of your head it correlates well with the powdered sugar like snow that falls softly outside and Andy dusting a layer on hot and ready out of the oven blueberry tarts.

 ♡ the expensive headpiece surely was a sight for sore eyes, it brightened the silver stars in your hues when you were caressing the satin like bath wash that smelt of peonies and strawberries, bathing that early morning to get ready for your special day.

 ♡ taking your special time appreciating every hill, bend, curve and dip of your body as a knock struck the door, “is my birthday princess in here?” Andy’s voice rung, pulling your head up in attention you grinned.

 ♡ “she is daddy!” you replied as your lower half swished in the rose petal water, hearing the bathroom door opened and the pad of Andy’s loafers hit the marble bathroom tiles.

 ♡ rippling contentment raptures and allures your bubble bath soaked figure when his bearing body comes into view while you were focused on rubbing your shoulders with your sugar scrub.

 ♡ taking delight in the peachy zest fragrance as you admired your freshly painted acrylic nails you had your daddy help you apply the other night, unaware of Andy’s glorifying glance as he stands looking down at your charismatic care.

 ♡ a white towel wraps your head keeping your hair in place and a light sheet mask rests on your face, bending down on his knees Andy’s hands grab your body sponge before rubbing the planes of your back covered lightly in bubble suds.

♡ “what do you wanna do first today princess? anything you want and anything you need daddy will give it to you,” Andy spoke, his head snaking in the crook of your neck and before you could speak you broke into a fit of giggles as the sponge in his hand intentionally grazed the sensitive skin of your sides while his lips pressed wet kisses on your neck.

♡ “d-daddy stop!” you broke but your seemingly endless giggles kept getting in the way as Andy continued to smile as he kisses your neck while his other hand dipped into the water to tickle your other side. 

 ♡ receiving the reaction he wanted his fingers stop their tickling torment but not before caressing the bubbly skin of your waist and stomach, you only have sight of his wide shoulders as his head continued to trail kisses down your neck, nibbling and sucking on your skin here and there.

 ♡ “go on sweetheart, the tickle monsters gone,” Andy smirk against your skin before lifting his head away from your neck and his arms from the bath tub soapy water, shifting your body around causing the water to splash over the railing you sat in place star struck at your daddy’s attire for the day.

  ♡ as much as it tingled the space between your thighs at the sight of him wearing those tight collared polos that drove you crazy beyond control you grinned up at him as you told him of your plans and ideas but Andy’s surprised to find you don’t wanna go out to get more presents.

 ♡ “I thought you wanted to go out princess, what changed? you love going out and getting more presents,” your daddy spoke, causing your eyes to shift shyly away as you took sudden interest in your shiny nails as they gripped the outline of the tubs rim.  

 ♡ “I know you said that you wouldn’t mind but I just want something between you and me, and- and do you know the tea party i’ve been talking about? the one with my stuffies? with the tea and sweets and cakes, may we please do that today daddy?” voice softly bashful and sweet as can be Andy coos down at you after pecking the tip of your nose. 

 ♡ “absolutely princess, how about we have your tea party after lunchtime. how does that sound?” you nodded your head enthusiastically and Andy chuckled, “perfect, what is the birthday princess going to wear?” and of course he’d say that.  

 ♡ the sole reason you weren’t getting out of the tub was because he had to decide which dress you’d wear but before your daddy knocked the bathroom door you already came to a resolution. 

 ♡ pointing to the dresses that are hung on their individual hangers on the towel closet near the bath tub, “i’m going to wear the pink puff sleeved one for brunch and the purple slip for my tea party,” you spoke, watching as Andy got up to grab a towel from the closet then the hanger bearing the pink dress.

 ♡ the dress wasn’t inherently familiar to Andy nor does he remember buying it for you but he had to admit he has bought you loads of dresses, bags or whatever else that made you so stylish and posh to come to a memory of so.

 ♡ instructing him to get which strap heels and what designer bag from your closest you want to go along with the short puffed sleeve dress as you took the sheet mask off your face and washed the citrus sugar scrub then floral bubble wash from your skin. 

 ♡ from the doorframe your unaware stance doesn’t notice the focused observation as your daddy admired and traced every detail of your bare bodice as your hands rubbed the soap from your neck to the undercurve of your breasts.

 ♡ with no sight of bubble suds on your skin you bend over to retrieve the towel on the near stool Andy set for you but before you could reach it Andy’s strong arms wrap around your bare chest, pulling your soaked back into the solidness of his bare chest.

 ♡ you gasp at the contact while his hands take rough handfuls of your breasts as his fingers roll your nipples, his face sneaking back into the crook of your neck as he bite and sucked, not afraid to leave love bites anywhere his lips graced against.

 ♡ “daddy,” you moaned but it’s quickly hushed as he rolled your nipple between his fingers, his other hand leaving your breast to glide slowly down passed your stomach till it found the slick of your needy cunt that erupted more small sweet noises with every dip his fingertips took at teasing your hole.

 ♡ your head throw back, resting on one of Andy's biceps that steady on the tubs rim the hand doesn’t leave from pinching your nipple or groping your tit as his other doesn’t stop tracing figure eights or rubbing the slicked pearl at the peak of your pussy before thrusting a stretching thick finger into your tight hole.

 ♡ “let daddy take care of you princess,” Andy shushed in your ear as your sweet moans and little sighs captured his when another finger pumped into your hole, your grinding hips rippled the water attempting to find the perfect balance that will help you reach the blinding pleasure and spill your euphoria on his fingers.

 ♡ “daddy please! please daddy!” you whispered hopelessly in his ear, your quivering body desperate for his fingers to break the chain tightening in your belly and before you could whine and beg once more as he takes his fingers out your hole your back suddenly arches when three fingers thrust in and out of your weeping cunt.

 ♡ your arched figure has your head falling back more against his bicep till you neck only rests upon it and Andy takes the opportunity to smash his lips to yours, teeth rough to bite your bottom lip you gasp and moan as his tongue enters your mouth just like his fingertips graze the golden spot at the end of your slicked channel.

 ♡ your going to combust, the erotic cocktail of his hot tongue swirling with yours and his thick fingers thrusting and stretching your honeyed pussy is making you see stars even though you have them closed, your hands rise to frame his face, fingers spread to dig into his toffee brown locks as the other relishes the scratch of his beard.

 ♡ its again that he hits the sweet spot his curled fingers graze against that has you whimpering in contrast to his relentless passionate kiss while you rest at the mercy of him and his thick fingers, “daddy p-please, I need to come! please let me come, daddy!” you're able to beg as he lets go of your lips from his.

 ♡ “why should I let you come princess? give me one good reason,” his low voice rumbled as his smirk plasters against the skin behind your ear, making you shiver Andy’s enjoying pushing you passed your limits as well as savoring the immature pout while your forbidden honey slowly coats his knuckles deliciously.

 ♡ “b-because it’s my birthday daddy. i-i’m the birthday princess, your birthday princess,” you whisper as a tear drips off your curls under lashes to your cheek, his chest fills again with an awakening desire to have you crumbling and moaning underneath him. 

 ♡ possessing your lips again you gasp in pleasure when his fingers pump impossibly more continuous as you tug the handfuls of his toffee brown hair in your grip, achieving to pull rough growls from him and to your own satisfaction him scissoring you open while his other fingers your other tit.

 ♡ however we can only have so much of something before we’re washed up on the tide of ecstasy and Andy knows how much the big wave is going to wash over you as your thighs tremble and your moans turn into needy whimpers of barely audible daddys and pleases that do nothing but increase the speed of his fingers and harden his cock.

 ♡ “come on my fingers princess, come for daddy sweet girl,” your grip on his hair tightens as you feel his fingers pull your orgasm closer and closer to the edge, you pull his head away from your neck to just smash your lips against his into a bruising kiss nothing more than teeth, tongue and hot breath.

 ♡ and as Andy guessed the thrashing wave washed over your body as his relentless fingers continuously hit the g spot that had you screaming his name when you came on his fingers, your arched position slipping a bit your daddy’s quick to take care of you.

 ♡ pulling the plug of the tub and rinsing your body again from sweat, Andy washed your sore core with warm water and a hand towel before wrapping your body covered in dew drops and carrying you out of the tub and into your room to dress you.

 ♡ settling you done on the plushy comforter of your shared bed with a quick peck to your lips before he can turn around and grab your body lotion from your vanity, your gripping grasp at his wrist stops him in place.

 ♡ “what wrong princess?” he says but your eyes don’t reach his blue ones, his heart stammers and paces wondering if he did something wrong, bending his knees till he’s face to face with you.

 ♡ “did daddy hurt you when he was trying to make you feel good princess? what’s wrong sweet girl, can you please tell me,” Andy speaks as his hand cups your chin to gently turn your face to meet his bit your eyes look down shyly. 

 ♡ “can I have a bubble bath tonight daddy?” your whispered as your fingers grip the belt loops of Andy’s trousers, his sly smirk not getting too big too tease his little one but still pronounced.

 ♡ “of course dove,” his low voice broke, pressing a kiss to the soft skin of your shoulder, your neck then you jaw then finishing on your lips.

 ♡ “with you?” picking his head up from the sweet and floral scent of your shoulder his eyes cascade into yours as your faces are centimeters apart.

 ♡ stricken by the twinkle in your hues and the bountiful soft of your lips your soaked hands creep up his wrists, hitting all the right spots that inspire another pleasurable session to take place between your legs.

 ♡ thick fingers stroke your overstimulated folds, shuddering from the contact you don’t dare dart your eyes away from his gentle ones, “as you wish princess,” 

 ♡ at this time it’s a quarter after lunch, much later than both your enchanted session of touches and kisses you have a small porcelain jar in your hands, the lid set aside you stare down at the perfectly cubed sugar lumps.

 ♡ “how much sugar lumps would you like with your tea mrs. genevieve?” your gleaming glossy lipped smile radiates across the table to your plushed white bunny rabbit who sits atop a stack of books you stole from Andy’s office in order to reach above the table top. 

 ♡ the bunny plushie dressed in her daisy blue sundress, matching sun hat and finishing her outfit with a shiny sapphire bow comfortably around her neck sits next to your other stuffies dressed handsomely and eloquently for the special occasion.

 ♡ they sip from the steaming cups of honeyed herbal tea your daddy prepared specially for them while nibbling on sweets of custard eclairs and fluffy macaroons, heart squeezing in contentment.

 ♡ “four sugar lumps? that’s far too much sugar mrs. genevieve! I am giving you only two! you’ve already had ten cookies! same goes for your husband- yes bartolommeo I am speaking of you-!” 

 ♡ the playfully sternness that possess the softness of your voice makes Andy widely smile to himself as he takes the numerous pans of rising cakes out of the double oven.

 ♡ the older man goofily grins to himself, of course he knows you are imitating him, down to his tone to the scrunch of his brows he would usually have to put you in your place and remind you of your manners but he doesn’t, seemingly enjoying this. 

 ♡ letting you continue to let you discipline the stuffies on their sugar intake while your extended arm swindles a chocolate chip cookie or two in your sneaky grasp from the untouched plate at the other side of the counter.

 ♡ Andy let’s the action slip, it’s your birthday! you’re the birthday girl and the birthday girl can treat herself to as much sweets, gifts, and attention her heart desires.

 ♡ tchaikovsky orchestrated symphony of the nutcracker plays on the amazon echo, every single one of your favorite details you planned for this tea party he partakes in joyously while listening in on his little one playing the perfect hostess.

 ♡ settling the hot pans on the kitchen island, not far away from the table you’re treating all your dressed stuffies to Andy slips off the oven mitts and sets a timer for the cakes to cool down.

 ♡ prepping your favorite fruits to be sliced, jars of frosting and icing to be whipped, melting chocolate to be spread and chopped nuts to be sprinkled Andy seems to know what direction he has for each and every cake. 

 ♡ it was indeed a major saving grace he had a few years of experience in the baking category ever since he started to date you, you were demanding and very high maintenance cause you only wanted the best cause you deserved the best.

 ♡ that’s one of the many things Andy adored about you besides the fact his little princess loves sweets, baked sweets to be more specific and technical.

 ♡  at the very start of their relationship he became accustomed to whisking eggs, sugar, and butter, sifting flour and dry ingredients without making a mess as well as becoming patient for not only your brattiness but the sweets in the oven to.

 ♡ baking was now a favorable hobby of his now and he loved baking, whether or not you watched and helped him with cracking an egg or two or by himself as you attended your big girl responsibilities. 

 ♡ although on this day he devoted himself to not let you raise a single finger, on this day you were truly a princess more than you were any other day and your daddy enjoyed looking over to you.

 ♡ adoring your sweet giggles and honey voice as you remarked back at what your stuffie said as you refilled their cups and snacked on the prepared sweets he completed.

 ♡ “are you enjoying your tea ms. dolores? how about you mr. alfred? I know you two prefer peppermint than sage and chamomile but I had daddy add just enough honey for your liking,” 

 ♡ dazzling eyes flash to the mint green piggie in her flowy gingham skirt and white blouse then the indigo whale in his top hat, of course only you could hear their kind affirmations of agreement.

 ♡ “stupendous! i’ll be enjoying my coffee- no ms. darla you cannot have any coffee! you are too little! the only one who can have coffee is mr. humbert,” 

 ♡ your eyes dashed from the kitten stuffie to the teddy bear with spectacles on his nose and a buttoned up tweed jacket covering his arms and chest, “he has reached the proper age to drink coffee, you all have to wait,” your retort makes Andy’s brow arch in amusement.

 ♡ “and what is the proper age for a stuffie to start drinking coffee?” Andy broke as he bite of a slice of apricot; the tangy citrus nectar coating his tongue he continues cutting the colorful fruits on the platter waiting for your answer.

 ♡ “sixty two,” your answer quick and analyzed, Andy chuckles thankful he isn’t a stuffie who must obey the critical coming-of-age caffeine consumption law.

 ♡ “that’s very old princess, or should I say congresswoman? have you poured elder humbert his coffee?” andy spoke while recounting the cookies on the plate to know how much you’ve already eaten, you haven’t eaten a large portion of the forty cookies but he’s coming more concerned of your caffeine intake as you blurt out a loud reckless giggle.

 ♡ “i've refilled mr. humberts cup four times now! I think he really likes the oat milk,” you grinned up at your daddy as you drank from your porcelain cup, your sparkling eyes never leaving his as Andy playfully squinted at you deviously.

 ♡ “he does now? and exactly how many tea cups of coffee did my little coffee bean drink?” he spoke in his authority tone, placing the batter spatula down as he relished in your childish smirk.

 ♡ “they’re tiny tea cups daddy. why don’t you guess.” your glossy lipped smirk was as tempting and teasing as your purred voice, the purple silk dress made your smooth skin glowy just like the lavish fabric. 

 ♡ Andy couldn’t help but take little peaks here and there as you bend over the table to refill a clinking cup of tea for your stuffies, his longing stare as the hem of the tiny silk dress rose up to your high thighs, inching to catch a glimpse of whatever panties you have on.

 ♡ however with this erotic tension laced interrogation it seems to be losing its stern touch that usually melts you into a puddle of obedience as Andy admires your glowing face then pursue to have get an answer, you can be so distracting when it comes to dishing out punishments.

 ♡ but who wouldn’t be inattentive from the task at hand when the shimmery highlight of your plump cleavage and glittery cheekbones capture the apple of his eyes, as much as your smirk widened as you received all the attention filled glances that fuel the seductive that drips from your lips as the purple silk strap of your dress falls off your shoulder.

 ♡ “well?” your voice broke the silence but before Andy could open his mouth the timer for the cakes went off, you smirked to yourself as you took another sip of your sweetened coffee, saturated with a bit too much oat milk and sugar lumps you shifted to meet your eyes back to your stuffies.

  ♡ “I apologize if I am being a rude hostess but I hope you all have kept this special event going between yourselves. I was busy with daddy talking about some stupid stuff,” you didn’t dare lower or mutter the last bits but vocal them, smirk deviously to yourself as you felt your daddy’s glance at the back of your head.

 ♡ it did nothing but spread the disobedience you craved and the lingering wetness dripping from your cunt, although you played an untouchable poker face as you heard whatever utensil that was in his hand settle down as his footsteps come nearer and nearer.

 ♡ walking around the counter of his baking station to you sitting crossed leg in your cushioned chair making conversation with ms. darla complimenting her pine green and white striped sailors outfit as if you weren’t the one who dressed her.

 ♡ “oh hi daddy!” you beamed, pretending to not see the stern glare in his blue hues or remember misbehaving the minute before but you couldn’t help but deliciously eye the thick muscle of his arms that are crossed over his wide chest.

 ♡ “do you need something daddy?” you stood up on your knees to attempt to come to eye level with the man but you’ve only come face to face with his chest, causing you to tilt your head up for Ari to meet your astral irises laced in faux innocence.

 ♡ Andy’s defeated sigh before bending down to come eye level to you, “princess, listen to me please,” he spoke and your eyes sparked up in attention, loving the sudden embrace of his large hands wrapped yours, making them all warm and toasty as well as making you feel so small. 

 ♡ “I know you really wanted to have this tea party for a long time now, daddy loves making sweets for you and your stuffies but daddy doesn’t want to punish you for any bad behavior. daddy doesn’t want his special angel to cry on her birthday and he doesn’t want you cooped up in a corner at this tea party because you’re doing such a good job playing hostess! can you be my good girl and behave for daddy? can you do that for me princess?” 

 ♡ Andy’s soft voice and soft caress of your hands and cheeks are like magic, as if with each stroke of his thumb against your chin that swiped your glossy lips planted bundles of rose buds in the pit of your belly, growing rapidly within the minute.

 ♡ “yes daddy I can be your good girl! the bestest good girl!” your enthusiasm made him grin, a ray of sunshine clearing the cloudy thoughts of introducing a punishment out of his head.  

 ♡ “i’ll hold you up to those words princess but you’re doing so good now. play nicely with your stuffies while daddy works on decorating your cakes. can you do that for me to princess?”

 ♡ you nodded your head with a content smile, “words please princess,” Andy reminded you.

 ♡ “yes daddy I can do that,” he smiled to himself as you brought your attention back to your stuffies but before he can walk back to his prep station a tug of his trousers pulls him in place looking back down at you to spark in concern when your eyes gloss with neediness.

 ♡ “what do you need princess?” he spoke, hands rising to stroke and pet your hair only but grab that same hand and pull him towards you, murmuring what he assumes to be what you want under your breath. “uh-uh, speak up princess,” 

 ♡ “you didn’t play with me today daddy! can you please play with me for just a few minutes before going back to the cakies?” your pout was like a punch in his gut, a bullet ricocheting through his rib cage, his very kryptonite but he should now these few minutes of daddy little playtime will turn into hours upon hours with you on his lap unaware or purposely ignoring his hard on.

 ♡ “okay princess, but just five minutes! I have two more cakes in the oven and dozen others to decorate for you,” he softly smiled but you smiled so brightly as you picked you off the chair and into his arms before sitting down on the chair himself and settling you on his lap comfortably.

 ♡ “would you like me to refill your cup mr. humbert?” your voice chipped, Andy’s glance falls on the old stuffed bear seemingly passed out on the table cloth, its short snout resting in the toppled over porcelain cup.

 ♡ “I think mr. humbert had a bit to much coffee for today,” Andy spoke but you shook your head as you refilled ms. dolores tea cup, adding her desired sugar lumps after biting into a slice of cake, chocolate and whip cream staining the corners of your lips.

 ♡ “mr. humbert falls asleep all the time, it’s normal. see he’ll wake up right now- mr. humbert wake up!!!” you shouted but the stuffed bear didn’t bulge, “I think mr. humbert had too much coffee daddy,” speaking as if you found that conclusion.

 ♡ Andy chuckles at you, petting your hair and tracing your shiny locks with his fingers while you spoke to mrs. humbert, your body reaching over the crowded table top to reach a plate of macaroons at that opposite side, the sight clouding Andy’s mind of the many other things he’s suppose to do.

 ♡ the helm of your purple slip dress rises past your thighs and as much as Andy wants to grope your ass he doesn’t want to interrupt your conversation or humiliate you in front of your stuffed animals.

♡ yes you had a special rule when it came to touching you inappropriately around your stuffies.

 ♡ however the sight of the lavender silk covering your ass seemed to wrap the plumpness of it perfectly enough that it was impossible to not lift up the thin curtain to run his open palmed hands over your globes, take harsh handfuls and watching the skin of your cheeks bounce with each spank.

 ♡ but he kept your rule in mind but it was becoming more difficult with you wiggling it practically inches away from his face or when you sat back down on his lap and continued to shift and ‘accidently’ grind on his stirring cock.

 ♡ your ass in the sultry silk dress purposefully or accidently shuffling against his tensed loins felt like burning heaven until he came to a sudden flaming question whether or not your wearing anything under under the lavender. 

 ♡  immediately upon that lingering thought filling all his action mechanisms his curious hands creep through the slit of your provocative slip, a slight stickiness  is welcomed against his thick fingers as the sinful honey runs down your thighs and as his fingers keep wandering, your wet pussy.

 ♡ Andy’s cock is hard now, bulging in his expansive trousers that keeps getting teased the plumpness of your ass inches away from his watering mouth, you surely wouldn’t find a retaliation to give him as his fingers creep up to meet your folds. 

 ♡ his wandering hand is under the table, no where near eye level for the glass beady black eyes of your stuffed animals to see but they can however question your flustered stuttering state as his taunting thumb traces figure eights with your slick.

 ♡ “daddy-” you hush but it’s interrupted with a quick slap to your bum, Andy’s smirk widening at the sight of it jiggling along with the fabric, he can’t help but take his thumb covered in your pleasure and take it in his mouth.

 ♡ moaning at the delicious taste of you before grabbing your ass again in rough handfuls, making finger like indents that could possibly bruise your skin you bite your lip in anticipation for another spank until Andy’s large hand hovers over the curves of your hips till he grips your waist.  

 ♡ “keep playing sugarplum, pretend daddy isn’t here playing with your princess parts,” finishing the husky whisper in your ear with a kiss to your cheek, whimpering slightly as one of his hands glide back to the slit of your dress and playful fingers slowly rub your slicked pearl.

 ♡ you don’t argue as you continue to play hostess with your stuffies while trying to survive your daddy’s teasing fingers, attempting to not let a single sound escape your lips or a stutter in your words, hoping your daddy will keep his promise and only play with you for five minutes before going back to the cakies. 

 ♡ yet as you think that unfortunate thought Andy’s finding pleasure of his own, maybe he won’t just play with you for five minutes since he’s infatuated with the cake in front of him. 

 ♡ the older man knows you’ve been wanting him to put you in your place the moment you started acting cocky and who is he to not give it to you?

 ♡ the birthday girl always gets what she wants

♡♡♡ thank you for reading! ♡♡♡  pretty please like, reblog and/or comment what you think and if you enjoy this follow me to read more of my future works! ♡♡♡

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[silhouetteofacedar]

Fox Mulder, Closet Romantic Ch. 15: Silk and Salt

Previous Chapter - AO3 - MSR, rated E

A real date.

Mulder hasn’t been on a blatant, show-up-with-roses, ‘I’m into you and would like to get laid maybe’ date in a good five years. Possibly longer; he really doesn’t remember at this point. His life before Scully seems strangely two-dimensional in memory these days.

Part of him thinks that fancy dinners or elegant nights out don’t really seem like their style, but he figures they can decide together after the fact. They have to try it at least once, right? God knows she deserves it.

They’re busy with Mulder’s Gettysburg ghost case for the next few days (he was right, which Scully would not accept), but by Wednesday things have settled down, and he’s able to plan.

“Saturday, May sixteenth, at five,” he announces without preamble on Thursday morning. “I’ll pick you up. And don’t be alarmed, but I’ll be wearing a tuxedo.”

“Okay,” she says, surprised. “I take it this is the date I requested?”

“Yes it is,” he replies. “But that’s all I’m going to reveal. The details are a surprise, and if I recall correctly, somebody wanted to keep personal discussions outside of working hours, so by that metric I’ve already said too much.”

Scully presses her lips together, nodding. “Say no more,” she says. “Now where’s your report?”

He’s not nervous. He’s a grown man; a federal agent, for fuck’s sake. This is nothing compared to some of the tense situations he’s been in throughout his career. Knocking on his partner’s door with a bouquet of red roses under his arm doesn’t even make the list.

Regardless… he’s a little nervous.

Scully opens the door in a flurry of dark blue silk and delicate perfume. “Wow, hi,” she breathes, stepping back and opening the door wider. “Nice tux.”

“Thanks,” he says faintly, drinking in the sight of her.

She’s wearing a silky floor length slip dress with teeny little straps, and he has the fleeting image of snapping them with his teeth, leaving bite marks on her smooth shoulders. She sees him staring and smiles.

“Navy blue; exciting, isn’t it,” she says, gesturing sheepishly to the dress. “I can only handle one fashion adventure at a time.”

His eyes travel her body, appreciating the way the fabric skims her hips. “You look incredible, Scully,” he says, voice oddly hoarse. He clears his throat. “These are for you,” he adds unnecessarily, holding out the bouquet.

“Thank you,” she says, taking the roses. “These are gorgeous, Mulder. Let me put them in water.” She steps into the kitchen and sets the bouquet on the counter. “You know, the last time somebody gave me flowers, I was dying of cancer,” she says conversationally, bending to retrieve a vase from the cupboard under the sink. “Needless to say, this is a preferable occasion.”

“Mark didn’t…?”

“No,” Scully replies, filling the vase under the tap. “I think flowers happen less in real life than they do in movies, at least in my experience. I can count on one hand the number of times a date brought me a bouquet.”

“Nobody’s ever gotten me flowers, so I think I have you beat,” Mulder says.

“I’ll get you some sometime,” Scully says, and it doesn’t seem like she’s joking. She unwraps the stems and places them in the vase. “I’ll give them food and a fresh cut later,” she says, and Mulder nods as though he understands flower care. So water’s not enough…?

“So where are we going?” Scully asks, taking her wrap off the back of the couch and draping it over her shoulders. “I’m assuming - actually, hoping - there’s food involved.”

“I would never neglect to feed a lady,” Mulder assures her. “We have reservations somewhere, but that’s after this.” He withdraws an envelope from his jacket and hands it to her.

Scully peeks into the envelope and pulls out two tickets, scanning the tiny print. “The Kennedy Center?” she says in surprise.

He nods. “The National Symphony Orchestra is playing a selection of Vaughan Williams,” he replies. “Thought you might like it.”

“Mulder, this is amazing,” she says. “I haven’t heard live music in ages. It’s one of those things that’s hard to prioritize.” She slips the tickets back into the envelope and hands it back to him. “So, are you ready to go?” she asks, picking up her little evening bag, gathering the long chain in one hand. She loops the other around his elbow.

He tucks the tickets back into his jacket pocket. “Let’s go paint the town.”

In Mulder’s estimation, one of the best things about going to the symphony is that there’s not much to watch aside from the waving arms of the conductor. Therefore he feels free to close his eyes, absorb the music, daydream a little without risking missing anything important.

The most important thing, after all, is sitting right next to him.

He glances at Scully often, taking in her beautiful face, the rapturous look in her eyes, the elegant curve of her nose, her tender mouth. He loves the way she wore her hair tonight; it’s shiny and wavy, pulled back on one side with a little comb. He fantasizes about slipping the comb out of her hair, sifting his fingers through crimson strands as he draws her in for a kiss. Feeling tendrils brush his face as his lips travel to her earlobe, her neck…

She’s looking at him now, an eyebrow arched. He shrugs, heat in his cheeks as he faces forward again.

He feels something brushing his finger and glances down to see her small, manicured hand creep on top of his, their little fingers intertwining.

The music soars, and he floats away with it.

“That was wonderful,” she says as they walk out of the theatre. “The last piece especially, The Lark Ascending,” she notes, glancing at the program. “It was magical. I’m so glad we did this.”

“Not bad for our first real date?” Mulder asks, hand on the small of her back. He secretly relishes the slip the fabric beneath his palm.

“Not bad at all,” she replies, smiling up at him. God, what did he ever do to deserve that smile? He’s grossly inadequate.

Mulder glances at his watch when they reach his car. “I expected the concert to be longer,” he admits, wincing. “Our reservation isn’t until eight, at that French place on northwest M Street.”

At that exact moment, Mulder hears Scully’s stomach growl.

She looks up at him apologetically. “You can ignore that, can’t you?”

“How hungry are you, Scully?” he asks, leaning against the car. She grabs his elbow and pulls him forward. “Mulder, you’re going to get dusty,” she warns. “And I’ll admit I haven’t eaten much today… I’ll admit I was a little nervous.”

“You were nervous? Why?” he asks, concerned.

“Well, nervous and excited. Because this… this is new. It’s a good thing,” she explains, “But it’s going to take some time to get used to.”

He nods. “Adjusting.”

“Exactly.”

Her stomach lets out another rumble.

“Scully, we should eat now. We can save the restaurant for another time,” he says. “I can’t have you passing out on me; you’re the doctor in this partnership. What’re you in the mood for?”

She licks her lips. “Don’t laugh,” she warns. “Actually, let’s just start walking,” she says, looping an arm with his. “There’s a spot not far from here that I really like. It’ll be a surprise.”

This is incredible.

Mulder wasn’t aware that it was possible to fall this hard for a person, but Scully never ceases to amaze him. Of all the places she could have picked, she chose an ancient, cramped little fish and chips shop down by the Potomac. So here they are, dressed to the nines at a tiny table with two heaping baskets of fish and chips between them. Their ten minute walk had made them both a little warm; his jacket is off, shirt sleeves rolled up, bow-tie undone and hanging loosely around his neck. Scully’s shawl is draped over the back of her chair, her arms enticingly bare as she cuts tender sections off of a slab of crispy battered cod.

“People are staring at us,” she says in a low tone, dipping a bite of fish into the saggy paper cup of tartar sauce. “You think maybe we’re overdressed?”

He grins at her. “Might be. They’re all looking at you,” he insists. “A gorgeous redhead in a silk gown, chowing down on greasy seafood? It’s like spotting Halley’s Comet,”

She locks eyes with him as she chews, a smile quirking her lips. “You think I’m gorgeous?” she teases.

“Of course,” he replies easily, pouring ketchup over his chips. “And brilliant, and compassionate, and adorable, and-”

“Stop,” she implores, holding up a hand. “I can only handle one compliment at a time.”

“Then we gotta increase your stamina, Scully, because I could easily go on.”

“Oh could you?” she says, raising a brow. “I’d like to see that sometime.”

“I’m ready when you are,” he replies.

“Mm,” she hums, busying herself with her fork. “I’ll keep you posted.”

He leans forward, knees bumping hers beneath the postage stamp-sized table. “Can I confess something?”

“Sure,” she replies, popping a chip into her mouth and brushing salt off her fingertips.

“I can’t stop thinking about kissing you again. I would have earlier but your lipstick looked really nice and I didn’t want to smudge it.”

She raises her eyebrows. “Wow,” she says softly. She drops her hand to the table, runs a fingertip over his knuckles. “Well, when we get out of here…” she trails off suggestively.

He hopes she doesn’t notice him start to chew faster.

[uniquevocashark]

A Good Servant

Part 1 of ?

Summary: You would do anything to keep her happy: be it keeping her pet healthy, running her house or making her wine. Everything but for what you both want.

Some content warnings for this part: there's heavily referenced sex/sexual activity, pet play (not with the reader, this is an angsty prologue fic), brief mention of adultery, casual contemplation of murder, brief mention of whipping and a joke made about catholics. If I missed anything that you think should be tagged, dm me and I'll add it.

--

You start down the hallway before you can stop to think, holding the tray aloft in one hand. It's very easy to hear the strangled sounds of Lady Dimitrescu's most recent pet, some twenty something woman from the village, which only makes your job that much harder.

As you had been here for quite some time, you knew one of the most taboo acts was to interrupt her during 'training'. As you got closer you could hear her voice clear as day, offering soothing encouragements before the snap of a crop reached your ears.

You stop just before the door, wondering briefly if she'd use it on you for interrupting. But you couldn't send the heads of the other families away, so you steal yourself, rebalanced the tray and knock thrice.

There's a shuffle and her pet screams louder than before, followed by a half slurred string of begging and moans.

You purse your lips. You knock again, thrice, harder this time. You finally hear the Lady curse, some Romanian word you can't quite grasp yet, followed by quick shushing of her pet. You hold the tray carefully and take a precautionary step back.

She slams the door open and you catch a fleeting look at her black silk underwear before you shift your gaze into the room. Her pet, whose name you don't know and dotn care to learn, sits uncomfortably on the floor beside her masters bed.

"What is it?" Lady Dimitrescu snarls down at you, and you look up at the filigree decorating the wall beside her head.

"The Heisenbergs and Moreau are here to see you, Madame. They bear a seal from Mother Miranda." You handover the letter one of them gave you and fill her glass while she reads it.

You drop a bit of her special wine into it and hand it over. She eyes you carefully, taking a lemon slice. "Help me dress." She says and walks back into her room.

The hallway beckons but you follow her in anyway. She won't kill you, not while Mother Miranda has need of you, but you know she forgets how fragile people are sometimes. Her pet is a keen example; she clearly hasn't slept much due to her servicing, she's bruised all over and the way her lips wobble stirs some momentary pity in you.

Unfortunately for her, any stronger feelings have long since been cut away and seeing her in such a state only brings up questions of how you can improve. Still, you try to put on some faux sympathy for her.

You fill the smaller glass and hand it to her pet with a small platter of apple slices. When you look over to Lady Dimitrescu her brows are raised.

"She hasn't eaten for two days, Madame." You say instead of explaining. It had been one of the cooks ideas, someone that knew her.

Clearly, Lady Dimitrescu didn't realise that, "Of course," she replies crisply, her tone too sharp, "You may eat, pet."

Without waiting, you walk over to her closet to pick a dress. They are the same style and differ in their colour scheme; three are the same shade of light cream, twelve are pure white and three more are tinged grey. You pick out a light cream one with matching undergarments when she calls you over.

You've been working for her a long time, excess of seven years, so you know how she prefers to be dressed after stringent activity. You slip her bra on and her underwear. Slowly, you put her stockings on, as to not rip the expensive fabric, and clip them to her garter belt.

Lady Dimitrescu choses which garter she wears each day rather than have you or her personal amod do so, today it is the one that tangles easily. Its notorious among the staff for how difficult it is to put on. You know your way around it, though, fastening it quickly about her hips and thighs. "Have you put any thought into what I asked earlier, Madame?"

Lady Dimitrescu scoffs, sipping her water, "I have a personal maid." She jerks her chin to her pet, who has been munching as quietly as possible on the apple slices.

"Yes," you say lightly, helping her step through into her dress, "I merely doubt she will have time to deal with any duties other than those of a pet."

She eyes you dangerously and sets her cup down. You ignore the passive aggressive ploy to retrieve the step ladder in the closet. You flick it open and climb it as you pull her dress up, admiring the muscles of her back when she flexes subtly, then guide her arms into the sleeves.

"Who do you recommend, my gracious head of staff?" She croons when you work your way up the buttons of her dress.

You overexargerate your sigh at her playful tone. You catch her smile in the mirror and go back to buttoning. It is much harder to accept some days that this cannot last forever.

"Jessica is a cheery and dedicated worker with a strong back for lashings should she ever disappoint," her pet looks at you with mild horror that you file away and you try to strain your voice a little more towards reluctance, "Mihaela may suit your temper better, she has a quiet nature, has little care for material things and does her best to avoid punishment." That and her aggressive asides about the Lady would stop if she wanted to live.

Lady Dimitrescu moves over to her vanity, and you follow, grabbing the scissors attached to your chatelain and three roses from the vase on her desk. "Who else?" She asks, flicking the cap off her lipstick.

"Louise may suit as well," You say as you clip the stalks, "but Miss Daniela has taken a fancy to her. It would not be the wisest choice. There is also Rachel but she is pregnant with the gardeners child."

"Leave it to humans to rut like base animals on my property," she taps her lips thoughtfully,  "Wasn't Rachel married?"

"She is, Madame."

"Do you remember to whom?"

You pause in your arranging of the flowers on her breast and she catches your eye with a smile that burns you, "It was to the southern most butcher. One of the Bradleys, I believe."

She clicks her tongue, breaking eye contact, and you move to brush her silky hair out before she repins it. "Tell Heisenbergs retainer to have her husband brought here. It may be time to cull that wretched family," she paused, sipping again at her water, "Also, Mihaela will do, inform her after the meeting."

"Of course, Madame." You set the brush down, and grab her powder, dusting it onto her cheeks as she fixes the curls back into her hair. She is most beautiful like this, when her face turns delicately pensive and she stills almost completely. You almost wonder what it would be like, with her, and have to take an extra second to cool your heating face.

When she turns to you, with that deliberate, unabashed affection stealing the faux indifference from her face, it makes your heart quake in a way you haven't felt before. You have to look away before you both do something stupid. Deliberately, you plant your hand on her shoulder to keep her at a distance and stare intently at her ear as you put her earrings on.

Her pet has come to sit at your feet, Lady Dimitrescu running her fingers through her hair and you vaguely wonder what it would be like. What if you were there instead and what if this and that and everything else you could want but can't have. Neither of you will cross Mother Miranda.

Her pet gives you the dishes, the glass and plate empty. You move away from them, so that you're not tempting anything again and refill the glass.

"Shall I also have inquiries made about a new gardener, madame?" You ask as you hand the glass back, then move to gather together a suitable outfit for her pet.

The softness is gone from her face and you tell yourself you're glad of it. "Yes, someone more appropriate."

"Not a Catholic then?" You ask innocently. She chuckles warmly and you go about dressing her pet with a little smile. "And would you prefer the current one be brought to your daughters or sent straight to the cellar?"

She regards you seriously in the mirror, and you stare back into her golden eyes before returning to fixing the bow on the back of her pets dress, "Bring him to me when I'm next available."

You usher her pet back to her seat, putting the cups back on the tray, "That would be after dinner for today, or at three tomorrow evening."

"After dinner will be fine." She replies, eating the rest of her lemon. She hands you the skin, her fingers brushing yours deliberately, and you take longer than needed to deposit it on the plate.

"The families are gathered in the dining hall, Madame. I had the kitchen staff prepare a light brunch."

"Tell them I'll be there momentarily."

"As you say, my Lady." You curtsy as you leave. You make a note to have Rachel serve dinner and to watch the Lady's pet while she's busy. You may even go so far as to ask the cook to make a broth; this pet seems to make her happy and you are determined that her pet remains able to do so.

It's all you can do, after all.

Hey, little note:

This is a multi chapter fic with a planned unhappy ending because Courtly Love Trope doesn't usually end well. There will also be references to Resident Evil lore from previous games. Do I care if its accurate? No, not at all. Resi purists beware this fic. And thanks for reading!

[blossom-hwa]

Brave - CHAN

I honestly still can’t believe I’ve finished this? There was a time I didn’t think I’d get to writing this fully until 2021 lmao?? And now it’s the longest fic in the whispers of nature series I need to go lie down

Dedicated to @wingkkun​ because screaming to Kai was like 95% of the reason I wrote this so fast <3 I also appreciate your fanart SO MUCH you are the entire reason tbz has such a presence in this fic!!

(reposted for... the second time without gifs AND links if it doesn’t work I'll cry)

Pairing: Chan x fem!reader

Genre: fluff, angst, nature spirit!au

Triggers: mild descriptions of violence (nothing graphic)

Word Count: 12.9k

Through tears, heartbreak, and a bit of love, Chan teaches you how to be brave once again.

SKZ Masterlist | Whispers of Nature

Red is simultaneously a color of love and a color of death. It is the color of passion, the color of a bride’s dress and the roses she carries down the aisle, but also the color of blood seeping slowly out of an open wound.

Right now, watching the wedding, surrounded by pale red flowers and silks and draperies, you feel as though you’re sitting at a funeral.

Your dress isn’t red, of course. No matter how much you wish you could leave the elegant hall and run away forever, you wouldn’t disrespect the bride in such a fashion. Not only is she the crown princess of your kingdom, she is also kind, a gentle, intelligent, bright woman who will be a brilliant queen when she is crowned tomorrow.

No wonder she is the love of your best friend’s life.

Something in you itches to just start screaming, to draw your sword and ruin the festivities. But you have no sword, only a sparkling ivory gown chosen by the kind princess herself. Today, as Jacob said, you are here as a friend. Not as a knight, not as a guard, not as a protector. A friend.

Somehow, that word feels so much worse than a cold “protector” would.

The dress is shimmering white, pale and beautiful, dotted with small crystals that shimmer like clouds and stars. It should make you feel lighter than air, light with happiness for your best friend and the woman he is marrying.

But the soft fabric feels cloying on your skin, heavy and strange and choking. It’s not that you can’t wear a dress – no, you’ve gone undercover many times at balls and galas as an unseen eye to protect Jacob, after he took his place as his father’s heir. It’s the situation.

This gown was made with good intentions. The heaviness in your heart has dragged those good intentions away, replacing them with dread, anger, guilt, and sadness.

At the altar, somewhere simultaneously very close and very far away, Jacob smiles at his bride-to-be, holding her soft hands between his rougher ones, reciting the vows that will bind them for the rest of their lives. You stifle the urge to place your hands over your ears.

Oh, spirits.

He says the word “love,” and you have to fight the visceral flinch that threatens to tear through your body.

His bride’s words are not quite as painful as his. You didn’t know her as well as you knew him (does she know his favorite color is burgundy, a red between scarlet and purple, the color of roses on the darkest night?), so her vows don’t sting as much. But there’s pain just the same – throbbing, subtle, never harsh but ever present.

The neckline of your dress feels too hot against your skin.

With sick dread, you listen to her voice taper away, see the trembling smile on her face as she stares into the face of the nobleman’s son. Jacob stares back with all the stars of the sky in his eyes.

(Did he never notice that you looked at him the same way?)

The priest takes their hands, guides them through the “I dos.” They are a radiant couple, pure red covering pale skin and silky hair.

Your heart, smothered in innocent white cloth, cries.

The priest’s next words ring through your head, rattling around your mind with a force to rival the club that gave you last year’s concussion. “You may kiss the bride,” you hear, muffled as though he is speaking through water.

The red-covered couple leans in close. One of Jacob’s hands cups her cheek almost reverently, while the other gently grasps her fingers. He looks at her like she hung the moon that illuminates the red roses of his night.

You’re a knight. You’re one of the Guard. You’re brave, courageous, able to face down any foe without hesitation, ready to fight to the death for your country and the people that you love.

As their lips touch, you close your eyes.

(You’re a coward.)

. . . . .

Your boots echo loudly on the hard marble floor. As you approach the throne, the large, wooden doors swing shut behind you with a soft thud. You sink to your knees, head bowed.

“Rise,” your queen says, her voice lilting and sweet and perfect in the shining chamber. Her king consort, your best friend (is he still your best friend? You aren’t quite sure), sits by her side.

Respectfully, you stand, careful to hide any vestiges of pain on your face. It’s been several months since the wedding, and you’ve gone back to the Crown’s Guard, assigned to protect the king and queen and train the guards for their duties.

The metal of your armor, though heavier than the ivory dress that still hangs in your closet, feels lighter on your body. It is protection, from swords and words and emotions.

“We received the request for your leave of absence,” the queen says. Her eyes convey the perfect amount of sadness and wisdom. “We would be sorry to see you go.”

Jacob looks at you beseechingly. He wants you to change your mind, to stay as his friend and protector. Your mind tells you that you should stay – after all, you know little of the other kingdoms, of the lands you have decided to travel and explore. Staying in the country you know best is the safest option, for you and for the royal family.

But your heart tells you to go, and on this matter, you will listen. You wouldn’t be able to live here long, watching Jacob and his queen rule happily together for the rest of your days. You wouldn’t be able to stomach seeing their children romp around, watching them dance together at balls, hearing the cries of the common folk singing praises of the royal couple.

“However, though it pains us to see such a trusted member of the Guard gone, it is your life, and we wish for you to live it to the fullest.” The queen smiles gently, holding out a folded letter. “This contains a copy of your signed request, as well as a letter of recommendation to any future employer you may seek.”

She’s kind. So kind. Your throat closes up as you take the letter, and you can barely choke out a “thank you, Your Majesty.”

“And do remember,” Jacob adds, “that you will always have a place in our guard, should you choose to return.”

“I thank you for your kindness, Your Majesties.” You bow low, touching your hand to your head in a gesture of utmost respect. “I, too, am sad to go. However, I do not doubt that I leave you in very capable hands.” A ghost of your usual smirk appears on your lips. “And I am sure, Your Majesty, that the King Consort has enough skill to keep the two of you safe.”

The queen, being the wonderful lovely woman she is, chuckles slightly. “If he was taught by you, I am sure he will.” She smiles. “We wish you the best, Protector of the Crown.”

. . .

Jacob catches up to you later, just as training has finished for the day. As you bid goodbye to the last recruits, he enters through the back door. You recognize his footsteps and put on a smile as you turn around.

“I could’ve been an attacker, you know,” he says, slipping into the easy banter you’ve established over a decade of friendship.

“You think I don’t recognize your footsteps by now?” The smile stays on your face more easily now, not because the pain is any less, but because you’ve had more practice.

A short silence hangs in the air. Sweat from your hair drips onto your leather tunic, while not a speck of dust lies on the rich silk that clothes your best friend. It reminds you of how far apart you are now.

“Is there really no way I can persuade you not to leave?” Jacob finally asks. His mouth is downturned in the slight pout you’ve grown to love, while his eyes hold the hope that made you fall.

Your mind screams yes. Your heart shouts no.

“Not this time, Cobi.” The nickname slips out before you can even think. “I’ve made my decision. It’s time for me to go.”

Jacob sighs. “Could you at least tell me why?”

You could. Speaking words isn’t as hard as other people think it is. It’s just that once you say them, you can never take them back.

Should you tell him?

His eyes are earnest. They’re honest. They want the brutal truth that you’ve grown accustomed to giving him over the years.

But the easiest lies are those that carry a hint of truth.

“I’ve never traveled.” The untruth falls easily from your lips. “Sure, I’ve gone to the countries where we were called to battle, and I was around when you had to go places for business, but I never got to really see anything. I want to explore, see the world before I’m too old.”

He doesn’t completely believe you. You know that for sure. You can see it in the downturned quirk of his lips, the suspicion as he blinks, but he knows better than to question it. He knows you would tell him everything if you could.

(This time, you can’t.)

“And here I was, thinking I could find you someone in court to repay you for all you’ve done for me.” Jacob smiles, completely unaware of how his words are stabbing holes into your heart. “Visit, all right? You’ll always be welcome here.”

You can almost hear your heart shattering, the pieces breaking off bit by bit as they fall to the floor. But you smile. “I’ll try,” you say, because here you won’t lie and say that you will. You won’t give your best friend, the love of your short life, a promise you may not be able to keep. “I’ll try.”

He hugs you, staining his silken shirt with the sweat of your tunic. You hesitate a moment, then fall into the embrace, taking a final comfort in the strength of his arms. It hurts, but it’s a memory. And even though you want to escape, you don’t want to forget Jacob. Ever.

“I’ll see you off when you go,” Jacob says when you break apart. “Tell me when, all right?”

Should you tell him? you wonder. Will him seeing you off do anything but hurt you more?

It won’t. But your pain means little in the face of Jacob’s, not when you’ve already hurt him so much with your desire to leave. You’ve injured him enough. “I will,” you promise.

Later that night, you wonder if you should have told him the true reason you were leaving. You wonder if you should have confessed everything, laid your heart bare and told him how much he truly means to you.

No, you eventually decide. You’re glad you didn’t. Better to not ruin his happiness with his wife or his remaining memories of you.

(Or maybe you were just too scared to tell him.)

. . .

You set out early in the morning, just as the sun is beginning to peek over the horizon. A part of you hoped that Jacob would be too tired to send you off, but you knew he could never do that. He cares for you.

Just not in the way you care for him.

He meets you at the stables, where you’re outfitting your favorite horse for the journey. In his loose tunic and trousers, it almost feels like the two of you are in your teens again, waking early to train for your positions in the Guard.

Those were the good days, you think. There wasn’t a worry in the world besides making it past the next test. Jacob’s father wasn’t dead, and he didn’t have to leave the Guard to take over his household’s duties. Meanwhile, you had no idea of your feelings. There was no heartbreak.

Better times.

Words aren’t necessary, not this morning. Jacob helps you saddle your horse and store your belongings in silence. If he notices you stiffening – just barely, mind you, you’re much better at hiding it now – when his fingers brush against yours, he doesn’t say anything.

When everything is finished, you linger for a moment more. It hits you that you’re really leaving the place and the people you’ve called home for so long with no intention of coming back.

Jacob’s eyes are sad but tinged with hope when he finally speaks. “You’ll always be welcome here, you know that, right?”

Your chest tightens. You know he’s asking, one more time, for you to stay.

Last chance to tell him, you think. Last chance to clear the air.

But you’re still a coward.

“I know,” you reply. “But I have to go, Jacob.”

He doesn’t ask you why, not this time.

You wrap him in a hug, one last hug before you set off forever. A piece of your heart shatters when he puts his arms around you, squeezing your body to his in that secure, soft hold that’s just so him. So caring, so sweet, so Jacob.

It takes all of your effort not to cry.

“Safe travels, Y/N,” he says as you swing yourself onto the horse. His eyes sparkle. You know he’s holding back tears, too.

You give him one last smile, imprinting the memory of his voice saying your name in your mind. “Thank you, Jacob.”

When you ride away, you only look back once. Jacob smiles in the distance, hand raised in farewell. A small tear on his cheek barely glints in the morning sunlight.

You wave back.

. . . . .

Travel is liberating, truly – though you loved being a knight, there’s something so free about not wearing armor all the time, not having everyone recognize you as one of the Crown’s Guard. You don’t have to listen to anyone, you don’t have to watch out for constant danger. You don’t have to worry about anyone, now, but yourself.

There’s a little guilt in this pleasure, as well as some unease. It’s strange not to follow the strict routine you’ve held yourself to for over a decade, and it’s even weirder not to have someone you are charged to protect.

Well, you have to protect yourself, you guess. But that just… doesn’t come as naturally.

You eventually force yourself stop thinking about it. Thoughts like these weigh down your mind and take away from the joys of exploration, you firmly remind yourself. So you content yourself with roaming small towns and villages, meeting the people, picking up new skills with which to make a living.

(You never knew you were so bad at cooking, but at least you get better.)

The spirits treat you kindly for the first few years. The money from your work as a knight keeps you afloat as you learn to make a new living (you avoid using the queen’s letter – that would draw attention, and you don’t want any of that now), and when that runs out, you put your newfound abilities to use wherever people care to pay you for them.

It’s not a rich existence. Nothing is certain in this life, not the way it was when you lived in the palace barracks and your basic needs were always met. Here, you can rely only on yourself for food and water and shelter.

But it’s enough. Everywhere you go, you meet new people – rich and poor, rude and kind – and it only enhances your wonder at the world around you. Truly, you think, you lived in a bubble before. Now, even though you’re poorer, you can see everything your eyes glanced over as a knight.

(And if you sometimes miss Jacob’s warm smile, even if it never spoke of love as deep as yours, it doesn’t matter. You’ve made your decision. You won’t go back.)

It isn’t like you’re losing your fighting skills, either. You still have your sword, something you refuse to part with no matter how little money you have. There’s plenty of danger – bandits, thieves, rich boys who think they own the streets – and as such, plenty of opportunities for you to keep your senses sharp.

It’s after one of these fights that you meet the moon child, Changbin. He appears in the dark alley after you’ve knocked the last man out and takes concern with the bleeding wound on your upper arm.

“I’m fine,” you try to tell him as he firmly guides you away from the alley and towards a dark patch of trees. “I’m fine – hey, please let go of me.”

Hearing the urgency in your voice, he drops your arm. Your hand immediately goes to the sword at your hip. “Where are you taking me?” you snap, eyes flickering toward the trees.

He reddens. “I’m so stupid,” he mutters to himself, rubbing his forehead. “I stay in the woods,” he explains. “If you’ll let me take you there, I can help you clean your wound.”

Your eyebrows furrow. “You stay in the woods?” you repeat, incredulous. “Why –”

A breeze shifts his hair away from his ear, revealing a pure white flower dangling from a slim chain, glowing in the moonlight.

A moon child.

Oh.

In all of your years of traveling, you never thought you would truly meet a spirit.

“My Lord,” you say, dropping hastily to your knees. “I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you earlier.”

“Please, none of that.” The moon child tugs you back up, looking distinctly uncomfortable. “I’m just a moon child, none of the ‘my Lord’ stuff. My name is Changbin.”

Changbin doesn’t turn out to be a bandit masquerading as a moon child, thankfully, so you allow him to clean your wound in his makeshift hut in the middle of the trees. He introduces himself fully as a wanderer. Not a traveler, he clarifies, because travelers roam the world for pleasure. He does it out of necessity.

(The look of desolation in his eyes convinces you not to ask.)

He becomes your companion for months, nearly a year, walking with you from city to city until he decides to part ways in a small village near a forest. By that time, you’re sad to see him go – he’s been a wonderful friend – but like Jacob never asked the reason for your departure, you honor Changbin’s desire for silence.

He does leave you with one piece of advice, “traveler’s wisdom,” he calls it (you punch him in the arm when he says that in this high, haughty voice). “Villagers will tell you that these woods are dangerous,” he says once the two of you have calmed down. “They’ll say it’s haunted by spirits. And there is danger, it’s true, but there is also safety.”

You listen carefully.

“In the heart of the woods, there is a shrine. If ever you find yourself lost or in trouble, go into the forest at the break of dawn and find the shrine. The priestesses will take you in. If you can’t find the shrine by dark, though, leave as fast as you can.” The seriousness in Changbin’s eyes tells you he isn’t joking this time. “The forest isn’t nearly as dangerous during the day as it is during the night.”

So you travel for another year, keeping Changbin’s words in the back of your mind. As you continue, though, money begins to get scarce. These villagers are more suspicious than others you’ve met and aren’t as quick to hire a newcomer, especially one so poor but who bears such a sword (you’ll never sell it, not ever). Their suspicion is understandable, but it doesn’t make anything better for you.

You’re lost, now. You sold your horse and fine clothes a long time ago, leaving you with nothing from your old life but your memories and your sword. You’ve become a wanderer, not a traveler – forced to roam for no reason other than you must.  

Several times, you mull over returning to the Guard. Jacob said he would welcome you back, and the thought of a full stomach and a place to sleep almost make up your mind on the worst nights.

But even though you want to see Jacob again, want to remember his warmth and kindness, a green snake twists its way around your heart, sliding up your throat every time you think of going back to him. He’ll never accept you, not truly, the snake hisses. He’ll never love you the way you love him.

And try as you might, you can’t stomach the thought of facing him again, not when you made the choice to leave.

So you remain a coward, a blind, stupid, stubborn coward. Instead of going to a place you know, a place where you would find care and acceptance, you throw your lot into Changbin’s advice.

You decide to find the shrine.

. . .

You’re on your last coins when you finally make it back to the village where you and Changbin parted ways. As dawn breaks, you take a breath, summoning your last strength, and head between the trees.

It’s eerie, a bit, but so beautiful. As the sun rises, the sky turns a beautiful shade of blue that melds with the trees’ greenery. It almost distracts you from the fact that you legitimately have zero idea where you’re going – Changbin only told you the shrine was at the heart of the forest, nothing else. You’ve been marking your path with stones you picked up along the way, but something tells you that won’t help much if you’re being chased by… an evil spirit. Or something.

(It’s embarrassing and slightly scary to say it, but you don’t think you have the strength anymore to outrun such a spirit, much less fight one.)

Luck seems to finally be on your side, though, because after exhaustedly pushing through a crowd of bushes, you come face to face with a beautiful shrine, surrounded by wild gardens and small stone buildings.

Several young men and women – a few barely older than children – look up at the rustling of leaves. For a few moments, they stare at your undoubtedly grimy, gross face. You only stare back.

It feels like an eternity has passed before one of the young women stands and walks up, a gentle smile on her face. “Hello, traveler.”

“Hello,” you manage, voice croaking with disuse. You clear your throat, face hot. “I’m sorry for intruding. I just… I met… I don’t know if you know him, but I met a moon – a man named Changbin –”

“You met Changbin?” Her eyes take on a new intensity and a sliver of joy.

“Um, yes.” You try to smile. “He told me if I was lost and needed a place to stay, I could try to find the shrine.” Looking down at your dirty hands, you bite your lip in shame. “I’m sorry. I can leave if you want, I’ve just… I don’t have a place to stay. I can cook, clean, anything you need help with. And, um…” You hold out the remaining coins in your pocket. “I have these?”

A rough hand closes your fingers over the money. “Keep your coins, traveler.” The woman smiles widely. “Changbin would only tell a true friend about the shrine, and a friend of Changbin’s is always a friend of ours.”

As she leads you into the shrine, the only thing you feel is guilty, overwhelming, crushing relief. Relief that you won’t have to face Jacob once more. Relief that you won’t have to face your heart once more.

The mere thought of your cowardice makes you cringe.

. . .

The shrine, you learn, is a very busy place. You wake up pretty early the next day, unused to the fact that you have an actual futon now and not just the ground, but already the other two girls in the room are getting dressed. Feeling distinctly out of place, you start to follow suit.

“Oh, you don’t need to get up just yet!” One of them smiles. “You’re a guest, traveler. Take some time to rest.”

“No, it’s all right.” You smile back, hoping it isn’t as awkward as it feels. “I’ve never been able to sleep too late, and I don’t feel right intruding on your hospitality without giving something back in return. Is there anything I can help with?”

So you find yourself in the garden after breakfast, sweating under the sun with a boy around your age named Kevin. He’s cheerful. Very fun company. Somehow, he makes the monotonous task of pulling weeds enjoyable, even takes your mind off of how out of place you feel in this quaint shrine.

Walking back into the shrine after spending the day in the garden, you wave off Kevin’s offer to bring you dinner, telling him you’re going to take a shower instead. But because you’re an idiot, you forget the fact that you have no idea where the showers are.

Kevin’s already walking away, and you honestly feel too embarrassed to call after him and ask. So, ignoring the curious stares you’re garnering from the other girls and boys, you start walking in an arbitrary direction.

It’s a mistake. As the sun sets, you feel like you’ve wandered the grounds at least four times, but you can’t even find a semblance of a shower room in the whole shrine. You’re about to give up when the priestess who welcomed you walks out of a nearby building, followed by a young man with curly blond hair.

You really don’t mean to catch his eye. In fact, you’re drawing away, about to walk in the other direction, when he looks up and fixes your gaze with his. His eyes narrow.

You suddenly feel very uncomfortable.

The priestess – what was her name? Priestess Yang? You think that’s it – turns around and sees you there, immediately breaking into a gentle smile. “Oh, hello, Y/N!”

Sheepishly, you wave. “Hello, Priestess.”

“You welcomed the sword-bearer?” the man interrupts.

What?

You’re not even carrying your sword. You left it back in the room, thinking it might be viewed as a threat if you brought it around. And you’ve never seen this man in your life. So how does he know that about you?

The priestess gives him a scolding look. “Chan, the shrine welcomes those who are lost.”

“But a sword-bearer?” he – Chan – argues. “You do remember what kinds of damage they cause?”

Indignation rises in your chest. He doesn’t even know you, and he’s already making assumptions? “Hey –”

“Changbin told her to find us if she was lost,” Priestess Yang cuts in smoothly. “If Changbin can trust this sword-bearer, I’m sure you can find it in yourself to do so too, Chan.”

Chan just looks at you with undisguised suspicion in his eyes. You glare back. How dare he assume such things about your character?

“Were you looking for someone, Y/N?” Priestess Yang asks, pulling you out of your annoyance.

“Well, no.” The sheepish smile finds its way back to your face. “I was, um, looking for the showers.”

“Oh, they’re just over there! I’ll show you the way.” She pats Chan’s shoulder. “I’ll see you, Chan.”

Chan smiles briefly, then disappears into the air, leaving behind the faintest scent of grass and springtime.

The priestess laughs at the shocked look on your face. “Chan is our forest guardian,” she explains, leading you onto a dirt path. “He helps keep us safe.”

Uneasiness crawls up your spine. “Is that how he knew I had a sword?”

“Yes.” She nods. “He sees everything, knows of all those who travel the forest. It’s part of his Sight.”

A ripple of annoyance passes through your mind.

All that sight, and he couldn’t help me once? you grumble internally. Thanks a lot, guardian.

Suffice to say, even though Priestess Yang encourages you to have an open mind, your opinion of Chan isn’t the highest.

. . .

The discomfort of being the “new traveler” at the shrine stays for a week or so. By then, most of the residents are more or less used to your presence (you just ignore Chan whenever he gives you one of his suspicious looks), and you’ve carved out a small niche for yourself, taking care of the shrine children.

There are more than you expected, surprisingly. You would’ve thought the shrine was primarily made up of older teens, if anything, who could find their way here. When you mention this to Kevin, he gets a faraway look in his eye. “The shrine opens its arms to the lost,” he says in reply. “It makes itself easier to find for children, because they often can’t journey here themselves.”

“Abusive families?”

Kevin bites his lip. “Yes.”

This knowledge only makes you want to protect them more.

As much as you enjoy talking with Kevin in the garden, it’s so much easier to work with the shrine children, you find. They’re sweet and kind, if rambunctious, and you make it your duty to keep them occupied and safe while the older kids and priestesses work.

“Y/N, Y/N!” One of the older children, Yuna, comes running up one afternoon. “Priestess Jeon said you could take us into the forest for a walk!”

“Who else?” you ask. “Not just you, right?”

“Chaeryeong, Sunwoo, and Eric want to come too.” She looks at you with wide, pleading eyes. “Please?”

Your eyebrows furrow as you weigh the merits and dangers of a walk. It’s going to get dark in a few hours, so you can’t stay out long, but if one of the head priestesses agreed, it couldn’t be too bad of an idea. The kids aren’t too young, either. They’ll listen if something goes wrong.

“If you get one of the messenger boys to come, we can go,” you eventually decide. If something happens, at least you’ll be able to send someone off to get help quickly. Just in case, though, you strap your sword to your side.

Juyeon meets you with the four kids at the shrine’s entrance. Your heart sinks a little – you hoped Yuna would find Kevin – but Juyeon is pleasant enough. He returns the smile you flash at him, anyway.

The walk is uneventful, for the most part. Eric and Yuna pepper you with questions about your work as a knight while Sunwoo and Chaeryeong listen in rapture. Really, it hurts a little to talk about your life in years past, but for the kids, you’ll do it. The smiles on their faces are worth it.

When you start walking back to the shrine, though, the air changes. It doesn’t ripple right – the wind feels strange, somehow evil. Juyeon clearly feels it too, from the way his eyes are darting around the trees. With an unspoken agreement, you begin herding the kids along faster.

There’s barely a change in the wind when the thing – whatever it is – swoops down. Only the blur of a wing in the side of your vision alerts you and you shout, pushing Eric out of the owl’s range and drawing your sword.

“What the fuck is that?” you snap, brandishing your blade.

Juyeon’s face is white as he gathers the children. “Screech owl!”

“Screech owl?”

Then the thing – screech owl, you guess – dives down again, and there’s no time to talk.

“Juyeon!” you yell. “Get them out of here!”

He doesn’t argue, just herds the children together and races away. Smart boy.

You’ve never fought an opponent in the air before. It isn’t fun. The owl is fast, too fast, almost like a damn mosquito racing through the air as you try to squash it, only a million times bigger and fiercer.

Your sword slashes through the air as you duck and twist and hide behind trees, feathers fluttering to the grass all around you. Awful shrieks ring through the air and you honestly can’t tell if it’s you or the bird – all of your senses are jumbled up.

Adrenaline courses through your veins even as the sun sets further, washing the forest in pale evening light. The bird seems to take delight in the onset of night – it swoops faster, hoots louder, and is in general just a much bigger asshole than before (if that was possible).

“ARGH!” A claw slices the top of your shoulder. If I had my armor…

But you don’t, so you duck behind another tree. Think, Y/N, think, you tell yourself as you heave deep breaths. Wait, no, don’t think. Thinking gets you killed.

Just listen.

The air is still. You don’t move a muscle.

Then –

The faintest brush of wind on your left.

Your sword cuts through meat and bone, and the owl falls, dead, at your feet.

For a moment, you just stand there, gasping, staring at the blood dripping off your blade and pooling from the owl’s body.

Gross.

“Thank you.”

For not the first time that afternoon, you let out a deathly screech and leap away. Clapping a hand over your heart, you glare at the newcomer.

“… Chan?”

“That’s my name.” The forest guardian raises an eyebrow, looking faintly amused. “Thank you for killing the owl.”

You just look at him, eyebrows fully wrinkled in annoyance and confusion. “If you wanted the owl dead, why didn’t you kill it yourself? You’re the forest guardian, surely you have the power to do that much.”

“I can’t kill things just because I want to,” Chan replies. It should sound antagonistic, you think, but the look in his eyes is softer than he’s ever looked at you. Appreciative, maybe? “It would upset the forest’s balance if its guardian killed one of those who live in its domain. I can only defend the forest against those that mean it deadly harm, not those that are merely dangerous.”

Wiping your sword on the edge of your tunic, you mull that over. “But if the screech owl was too dangerous, wouldn’t that upset the balance of the forest in the end anyway?”

“We weren’t at that point yet.” Chan raises a shoulder in a half shrug. “But you killed it, so we’ll never know if that would’ve happened.”

“You make that sound like it’s a bad thing.”

He laughs. It’s a surprisingly cheerful sound – you thought it might sound like, you don’t know, someone croaking (look, you never had the greatest opinion of Chan until this point, and that’s still in the air). “I don’t think it is,” he finally says. “And I’m sorry. I was wrong about you being like all of the other sword-bearers who came to this forest. You clearly care for the shrine children.”

An apology. That’s something. Grudgingly, you force yourself to see Chan in a better light. “Apology accepted.”

For a few seconds, you just stand there, feeling the air turn more awkward by the second. “Um –”

“Do you need the way back?” Chan interrupts, a knowing glint in his eye.

By all the spirits, why did you have to meet him when you were lost at the shrine? Now he thinks you’re bad with directions, which you swear you’re really not, you just hadn’t been at the shrine long enough to figure it out.

Embarrassment creeps up your skin as Chan’s smirk grows. “… Yes.”

(And, okay, the forest guardian is a little infuriating and you find yourself wanting to hit him several times on the way back. But really, he isn’t that bad. Though you’d rather die than let him know you think that of him.)

. . .

Chan comes back the next day. You don’t expect him there, especially because he never visits the shrine more than one day in a row, but he surprises you with a smile and the offer of a walk.

“This isn’t your plan for killing a sword-bearer without anyone finding out, is it?” you ask, raising a nonplussed eyebrow as you follow the guardian out of the shrine. You’re not sure why, but it’s so easy to fall into banter with Chan the way you used to joke around with the other knights in the Guard.

Chan snorts. “As a centuries-old guardian of the forest, wouldn’t you think I’d have a little more wisdom than to kill you after several people at the shrine witnessed you leaving with me?”

You very visibly keep a hand on your sword just in case.

“So why did you invite me on a walk?” you ask after several moments. Chan’s bare feet are silent against the grass, but your boots make slightly louder thumps as you step over stones and fallen branches. “I know it wasn’t because of my scintillating personality.”

He stops walking. “I’ve heard you used to be a knight,” he says bluntly. “I wanted to know what kind of sword-bearer you were to leave such a prestigious position and even befriend Changbin, of all people.”

“What’s wrong with befriending Changbin?” you ask, desperately dodging the first part of Chan’s implied questions. “You make it sound like he hates… sword-bearers. He literally dragged me away after I beat up a bunch of men in an alley with my sword so he could clean the one wound I got on my shoulder.”

“Ah. That explains it.” Chan nods. “He saw you do good things with your blade.”

“… Yes?”

“Sword-bearers killed the girl he loved,” Chan explains. “Well, archers, really, but swords were involved.”

You swallow. That explains his wandering tendencies. “Oh. Who sent them?”

“The king of Adment.”

The title brings a scowl to your face. “Oh, him.” You spit. “That would explain it.”

Chan looks at you curiously. “You hold a grudge towards him as well?”

“He was never the friendliest to my kingdom,” is your brief reply before diverting the topic again. “So, is that also the reason you hate sword-bearers in your forest?”

“Whenever sword-bearers trespass, they almost always bring destruction.” Chan’s face turns hard. “I’ve learned not to take chances.”

The ages-old anger in his eyes speaks of a wisdom far older than the youthful form Chan takes. You narrow your eyes. “How old are you, exactly? You said centuries, but how many?”

He smirks, though there’s something weary in his gaze. “I’ve been alive for over a millennium.”

“What?”

“I can tell you more about that another day,” he says, teasing. You want to complain that he can’t leave you on a cliffhanger like that, but the sun is beginning to set, and you have things to do at the shrine. “Do you need an escort?”

You resist the urge to punch him, forest guardian or no. “I’m not that bad with directions,” you grouse. “You just caught me on a bad day. I can find my way back.”

He walks you back to the shrine anyway. And day by day, after every conversation you have, he walks you back as well.

Kevin, when you meet him in the garden, remarks that you seem more cheerful after a few weeks. “You look like you’re anticipating something exciting,” he clarifies when you only dignify him with a confused glance. His lips curl into a smirk. “Something about Chan?”

Kevin probably expects you to hit him or roll your eyes, maybe say something snappy in response. Instead, your face only drops as the meaning of his words hits you.

Do you feel something for Chan?

Well, you love to hear about his life. There are some really exciting stories he’s had after living so long. He’s also pleasant to hang around, and you enjoy talking to him.

It’s just curiosity, nothing romantic, you tell yourself. There’s no attraction. Just a slight friendship, maybe. Nothing more.

Nothing like what you felt for Jacob.

“Y/N – hey, Y/N!”

You blink to see Kevin staring at you in concern. “Are you all right? You zoned out for a minute.”

No, definitely nothing like Jacob. You try to smile at Kevin, pushing thoughts of blond hair and kind eyes out of your mind. That’s stupid – you would never let yourself be swayed so badly again. “I’m fine,” you say, hoping you’re telling the truth. “Let’s go get dinner, yeah?”

. . .

As the weeks pass, you begin to wonder just how much was truthful in what Kevin said.

Walks with Chan have become a regular occurrence, now. When he shows up at the shrine entrance every other afternoon, someone immediately calls for you.

And the worst thing is, you feel excited when you hear your name being called, when you’re with the children or scrubbing dishes or working in the garden. Everyone around gives you a knowing glance and maybe a teasing smile as you rush to see the forest guardian.

One part of you wants it. You want to be able to freely enjoy these walks, feeling the soft earth beneath your boots as you listen to Chan speak. The forest itself is interesting – he shows you the overgrown faerie ring, the water nymph’s pond and the accompanying willow tree – but you think his stories are even more intriguing. You like hearing Chan’s voice. You think you’d like to keep hearing it.

The other part of you doesn’t want this, though, doesn’t want the budding warmth that you feel with the forest guardian, even as the months begin to grow colder. It’s not that it doesn’t feel nice – in fact, this is precisely because it does feel nice. Too nice. You’re starting to feel a stirring in your heart that reminds you of how you felt for Jacob. Though it’s small, very small, it’s there – you can recognize it from the years of heartache you spent watching Jacob fall in love with someone else.

You don’t want that again with Chan.

It shames you to want to run away again, to run away from a place that has provided you with so much comfort in the months past. You love the children, truly, and the friends you’ve made are wonderful. You’ve even started giving Juyeon lessons with your sword. But what other course of action is there? There’s no reason a forest guardian with so many centuries of wisdom would fall for a young, naïve human like you. Here, a love story is even more impossible than one with Jacob.

The decision curdles in your stomach, fills your throat with bitter, hot shame, but it’s necessary, you tell yourself. Better to cut everything off right now, before your emotions grow out of control.

You’re not that important to the shrine, really. You’ve only been there a few months. They’ll survive without you.

You just can’t go through the pain you felt with Jacob ever again.

. . .

You debate avoiding Chan. If he were human, you might actually have chosen that path. But just like you couldn’t avoid Jacob when you fell in love – you were too close, he definitely would’ve noticed – you can’t avoid Chan. He’s the forest’s guardian – he’ll know you’re purposely trying not to be found.

So you decide to cut things off on one of your walks. It feels so simple in your mind – get away from the shrine, then tell him you’re leaving. He won’t care, you tell yourself. It won’t matter to him. And as much as the thought hurts, it’s the better option.

It should be easy, really. Chan gives you the perfect opening – “Why do you look so sad today?” he asks, stopping you by Hyunjin’s pond. The nymph himself doesn’t appear, which you’re very thankful for.

Well, no time like the present. You steel yourself. “I’m going to leave the shrine.”

Chan’s face switches expressions several times within seconds. You watch, feeling a sick sense of dread and relief pooling in your stomach. It’s out there. You’ve said it.

But spirits, why does he look so upset? So angry?

Like you mean something to him?

“Why?” he finally asks.

“Well,” you stammer, his unprecedented reaction sending all of the rehearsed words flying out of your mind, “I – I’ve overstayed my welcome, haven’t I? I’ve been here for months already, and I’ve used the shrine’s hospitality long enough.” His incredulous expression sparks indignation in your chest. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Do you realize how much you do for the shrine?” he snaps. His footsteps, usually so silent, pound on the earth as he steps up to you. “You think you’ve overstayed your welcome – do you know how much I – how much the shrine needs you now?”

How much I?

How much I need you?

How much Chan needs me?

Slip of the tongue. You shake your head, trying your best to ignore it. “All I do is help with the children, work with Kevin in the garden! Chan, I’m easily replaceable – I’m just a poor traveler who was fortunate enough to find the shrine! I’m lucky that you’ve all been so welcoming, but really, it’s time for me to move on.”

“And what about the children? Your friends?” He crosses his arms. “What about me?”

“They’ll live!” you snap. “And what do you mean, what about you?”

Chan growls under his breath. “Are you really trying to say that I mean nothing to you?”

His words hit you like a punch in the gut, like that time Jacob accidentally rammed you in the stomach with the pommel of a sword.

So… not a slip of the tongue.

“Why does it matter that you mean something to me when I don’t mean anything to you?” you finally say.

“And here I thought you were smart,” Chan snaps.

Anger flares in your chest. “I’m serious, Chan! Why would I ever think I meant something to you?” You gesture wildly at the expanse of trees surrounding you. “You’re a millennia-old guardian of a forest of magic. I’m a human who ended up here out of luck. Why, even if I ever felt anything for you, would you feel anything for me? What have I done to merit your attention?”

Chan’s eyes soften slightly. “So many things.”

Taken aback, you flail for words. “Elaborate.”

“You’re a sword-bearer. A kind sword-bearer. A sword-bearer Changbin trusts, enough to divulge his name and travel with for almost a year. A sword-bearer he believed was pure enough of heart to find the shrine – and don’t stop me there, if he hadn’t thought you would be able to find it, he wouldn’t have told you of its existence.” Chan stares at you with that same soft look, that soft look that pierces your heart and makes you feel guilty, so guilty, because you’re not as good, not as kind, not as pure as he thinks you are. “You carved your place in the shrine the first day you spent there. Without anyone asking, you took care of the children and helped Kevin in the garden. You did everything you could to give the children a bit of the love they never might’ve experienced otherwise and protected them from a threat you knew nothing of, something that could have torn you to pieces if you weren’t as trained as you were. You –”

“Stop.”

Chan looks at you, confused. “What –”

“I’m not – I’m not even near the brave person you’re describing,” you snap, tears starting to well in your eyes. “Stop talking about me like I’m some – some spirits-damned martyr, or something –”

“But –”

“And even if I was this, this noble and amazing person you think I am,” you interrupt, tears fighting to slip past your eyes, “how many other men and women at the shrine are the same? Kind, gentle, whatever you want to use to describe me? I’m not special, Chan. I’ve never been.”

Jacob didn’t think you were, at least.

“Y/N, why – just – did you not hear anything I just said about you?” Chan tries to take your hand, but you shy away, pretending the hurt in his eyes doesn’t send knives into your chest. “You earned the trust of a moon child haunted by those who carry blades in a matter of months. Those at the shrine took years to gain his full acceptance. You proved me wrong about sword-bearers. You showed me you were fearless, brave, kind – you are special, Y/N,” he insists, forcing you to meet his eyes. “You’ve shown me that, shown me so much –”

“Stop.”

Your chest is heaving, the tears have spilled out, and you’re fighting for breath. It hurts, it hurts so much that Chan thinks this much of you, but all you are is a coward running away your feelings. “You don’t know,” you gasp, “you don’t know what kind of a person I am. I’m not what you see. How can you –” you angrily brush a tear away – “how can you not see that?”

“Then tell me,” Chan says. “Tell me why you’re so different. Convince me.”

You don’t want to. You don’t want to convince him, you want him to always have that beautiful image of you in his mind – a brave, gentle knight dedicated to protecting those who cannot defend themselves. But he deserves the truth.

And the truth is that you are a coward.

“I left my kingdom because I was in love with my best friend,” you spit. “He married the queen, and I couldn’t do anything but watch. I left because I couldn’t stand to see them so happy together, knowing I would only be on the sidelines of their love for the rest of my life. I left because I couldn’t bring myself to tell him how I felt, couldn’t bring myself to clear the air. I left because I wanted to run away instead of facing my problems, Chan! And even when I knew Jacob would always welcome me back with open arms, even during my darkest moments, I still chose to run away! I chose to find the shrine instead of letting my feelings go and reconciling with my friend. I chose to find the shrine and run away a second time because I couldn’t stand to face him again when I was the one who chose to leave.” A choked sob escapes your lips. “And now I’m running away again, because I thought you could never care for me in the way I’m beginning to care for you. Only you apparently do, but I can’t just stay here and let you love this perfect, noble character who doesn’t exist.”

Silence fills the air. Surely the birds are chirping, the leaves rustling, but you can’t hear anything over the pathetic sounds of you trying to control your tears.

“So now you know,” you croak. “You know the truth behind the coward this knight really is.”

You can’t even meet Chan’s eyes.

“You’re right,” Chan finally says. “For a knight, you’re an awful coward.”

His words stab you in the chest.

“Courage doesn’t constitute running away.”

You can feel the blood dripping out of your heart.

“It means facing your challenges head on, doing what you must.”

You clench your teeth, resolutely looking down at your feet. It’s the truth, you tell yourself. It doesn’t matter if it hurts. It’s the truth.

Then Chan’s trousers enter your vision. You stiffen, ready to back away, but Chan’s already tilting your chin up with one gentle finger so that you’re staring into his eyes. “But you’re brave, Y/N,” he murmurs. “You’re brave when it comes to protecting others, defending the innocent from those who would bring harm.” A small smile curves his lips. “You’re just not too good at protecting yourself.”

You burst into tears. And this time, when Chan presses you into his chest, letting you inhale his woodsy smell of fresh grass and sunlight, you don’t pull away.

. . .

“You don’t have to run away from attachment,” Chan tells you on the walk back to the shrine. “You don’t have to run away from familiarity, from caring about people. We care about you, truly. The children would be heartbroken if you left. So would Kevin and Juyeon and everyone else.” He gives you a gentle smile. “I would be, too.”

Keeping his words in mind, you put away your thoughts of leaving the shrine and try to open your eyes to how much people actually enjoy your presence. Some days, when the self-loathing rises and you don’t want to do anything but run away, it’s hard.

But Chan always finds you, if not the same day, then the day after. He takes you into the woods and tells stories until your sides ache from laughter and the sparkle – or so he tells you – is back in your eyes. With his slow, careful help, you begin to see the small, but visible effects you have on the shrine.

Eric’s and Chaeryeong’s eyes light up when you walk into the room. Sunwoo and Yuna fight for your attention. Juyeon’s calm face breaks into a smile when you show up for his daily swordplay practice, and Kevin laughs with abandon when you crack jokes in the garden. They’re small things, but you realize that leaving the shrine would’ve caused a lot more damage – to you and to them – that you didn’t realize before.

So you cement your place in the shrine, throwing yourself into the daily life of the place you’ve tentatively begun to think of as something deeper than a mere shelter. Juyeon’s interest in swordplay gives you the idea to begin training some of the girls and boys in defense. The priestesses agree after a little convincing – after all, you argue, even if the shrine isn’t threatened very often, dangers like the screech owl crop up every now and then. And if anyone decides to leave the shrine in the future and make their own life, defense could be a very useful skill.

Chan embraces your idea with more warmth than you’d imagine, given his aversion to sword-bearers. When you ask him about it, he just gives you that teasing smile that infuriates and calms you. “I trust you, don’t I?” His smile turns gentler. “You’re a good, brave sword-bearer. I think you’ll be able to keep your pupils from going… astray.”

You certainly do your best. Over several years of training, you watch Juyeon, Kevin, Yeji, and Lia grow into formidable opponents. Sunwoo takes more of an interest in archery after you fashion him a crude bow and arrow, practicing with the (kind of terrible) weapons until you buy him proper set in town.

Life goes on, and it goes well. Shrine life is peaceful as new residents enter – the newest resident, Haknyeon, is adorable – and you grow into yourself as the months go by. Chan never presses his feelings, only treats you the same way he always did until you’re ready to accept his care.

“Are you sure?” he asks when you tell him, eyes sparkling with hope and love and uncertainty all at once.

Your heart blossoms with love for the forest guardian. “Yes.” You smile. “I think I love myself enough to allow you to love me too.”

His lips taste like spring, like golden sunlight filtered through verdant leaves. Pressed against his chest, you feel safe, delicate in the touch of his fingers splayed gently across your back, strong in the warmth of his arms around your waist.

Oh, Chan makes you feel loved, loved in a way that slowly erases the self-loathing you’ve carried for so long, in a way that makes you feel brave enough to remain standing with each passing day. And even though you’ve still got a long way to go, you take comfort in the knowledge that Chan, your forest guardian, will always be there for you.

. . . . .

News doesn’t come often to the small village just outside the forest, so when there’s gossip that doesn’t pertain to the whereabouts about one villager or another, it’s worth listening to. This time, it’s a kingdom at war with another.

“Which kingdoms?” you ask idly, examining an apple.

“One is Adment,” the shopkeeper replies. You snort, a sentiment he laughs with. “Which was the other, honey?” he yells to his wife in the back of the stall.

“Was it Callia?” she yells back.

You don’t laugh when the apple drops from your hand.

Trying not to visibly show your distress, you wave off the shopkeeper’s worry at your expression and hurry to finish the shopping. To your luck, when you make it back to the shrine, Chan is already there, conversing with one of the priestesses.

“Y/N!” His smile drops slightly when he takes in your expression. The priestess quietly excuses herself. “Did something happen?”

“Callia – Callia is at war with Adment.” You swallow hard, trying to steady your voice. “Jacob’s kingdom. At war with the one that killed Changbin’s love.”

Chan’s face turns hard. “I see.”

“I – I feel like I need to do something.” You gaze at him, begging him to understand everything you can’t put into words. “Chan, I feel like I have to go back and help, somehow.”

Chan’s eyes are gentle but unreadable as he grasps your hand firmly in his. “You should do what you think is right,” he says quietly.

What I think is right.

What I think is right.

What do I think is right?

Your mind races with panic, but one thought emerges, crystal clear in certainty.

“Yes,” you whisper, more to yourself than Chan. “I’ll do what is right.”

. . .

The priestesses give you their blessing to return to the kingdom you used to call home. Juyeon, Kevin, Lia, and Sunwoo volunteer to come with you as well, even though you try to dissuade them repeatedly with how dangerous it’ll be. They could die, you stress – this is war, after all. But they insist.

You put off saying goodbye to Chan until the day before you leave. He’s the one who finds you, actually – he has something to say, apparently, before you go.

It feels so strange, walking with Chan through the forest with the knowledge that you may never come back. It’s not like you’re a stranger to the evils of war – every time you rode into battle as a knight, you knew there was a high likelihood that you would die.

But it’s different, now. Jacob and your fellow Guards knew the risks of war – you were all seasoned fighters, trained in tactics and stealth and strategy. Here, you only have a very small group of fighters – reasonably good for the amount of training they’ve had, but lacking in true experience. They won’t understand the true horror of battle until they’ve experienced it themselves.

There’s something else, too. You’re leaving behind someone you love for the first time, someone who cannot come and fight by your side.

“Can I go first?” you ask, stopping by Hyunjin’s pond. You want to see the still waters one more time before you leave.

Chan nods. “Of course.”

“I…” You look down, mustering your courage. “I wanted to tell you that I love you.”

For a moment, there’s just silence. Then a sudden flush spreads across Chan’s cheeks.

It bolsters your confidence. “I know I don’t say it often,” you continue, enjoying the shyness on your guardian’s face, “but I really do. I wanted you to know that I’m not going off to help Jacob’s kingdom because I love him the way I used to, but because I still care about him as a friend.” You gaze into Chan’s clear eyes. “I love you very much, and I wanted to tell you that before I left.”

He presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “I never thought you were going to war out of romantic love for Jacob,” he says quietly. “You don’t need to worry about that, ever. I trust you.”

Your heart explodes with warmth. “So what is it that you had to tell me?”

“I never told you how forest guardians are chosen, did I?” Chan asks.

You shake your head. “No.”

“Well, sit down, and I’ll tell you now.” He smiles. “It’s a long story.”

Chan tells you of his first life as an oread, a mountain spirit settled in the craggy cliffs not too far from the forest. He tells you of the last guardian before him, a teasing fae named Jaebum.

“A fae?” you interrupt. “Isn’t that… not a good idea?” As lovely as Han and his lady are – you’ve met them several times by now – you wouldn’t exactly call him a suitable guardian. You’d say the same and more for his more sinister counterparts.

“Jaebum was different,” Chan says. “He cared deeply for the forest. After the two centuries I knew him, he found someone to love, to grow old with over time. He asked me to be forest guardian after he died.”

“So the current forest guardian chooses the next when they feel their time is over?” you clarify.

Chan nods, gazing into your eyes. “Yes.”

And all of a sudden, you understand.

“Chan, you –” You have to clear away the emotion rising in your throat. “You want to pass on the guardianship for me? To whom?”

“I’ve spoken to Changbin.” Chan smiles. “He was very receptive to the idea.”

“But – Chan, for me?” The old uncertainty starts to plague your mind. “Chan, I’m just… I’m just me.”

“Exactly.” Chan takes your hands in his. “You’re you. And I want to grow old with you. Live life with you. Don’t try to argue with me – this is something I know I want.”

You can’t even speak through the tears running down your face. “Chan –”

“Come here.” He wraps you in his warm arms. “I love you, Y/N. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

For how long you stay there, crying into Chan’s embrace, you don’t know. By the time you’re coherent enough to pull back, it feels like it’s been an eternity.

“So now you have to come back.” Chan smiles, though you can see a glimmer of fear, of uncertainty in his gaze. “You have to stay safe and come back for me, all right?”

“Yeah.” Hyunjin suddenly appears from the pond and you literally shriek, toppling backwards onto the grass. “You have to come back to Chan, or he’ll mope around for millennia and send the forest into ruin.” The nymph smirks, though you can see real concern hidden in his eyes.

“Like you moped for centuries over your cloud nymph?” Chan retorts, lips curved in an exasperated smile.

Hyunjin sniffs. “Details,” he says haughtily, already sinking back into his pool. He sends you a glance, though, that’s full of meaning.

You must come back. Don’t leave Chan waiting.

You make a silent promise that you won’t.

. . .

The next day, your cohort wakes up early. After yawning through a quick breakfast, you quickly gather your belongings and meet up at the front of the shrine. Several of the priestesses cluck over you like mother hens checking on their chicks, and you dutifully take their warnings and cautions with as light a smile as you can muster.

Chan shows up just as you’re about to go. The others thankfully leave you two alone for a bit (though you scowl at Kevin’s smirk and Lia’s whistle).

You don’t talk much, just stay wrapped in each other’s arms for several minutes. Eventually, though, dawn breaks. It’s time to leave.

“Be brave,” Chan whispers as you pull away.

You smile. “I’ll come back.”

With one last kiss that tastes of spring greenery, you leave the shrine. When you look back, Chan’s already disappeared.

. . .

It’s a long two years spent away from the shrine. The pace is difficult on your friends, who have only known the shrine as a home for so many years. For you, it’s a bit easier – you’ve been a traveler for a good few years, and it doesn’t take too long to settle back into the wanderer’s mindset, moving around, never staying in one place too long.

But they don’t complain. They’re strong, resilient, and resourceful – more so, really, than some of the knights you knew on the Guard. With their help, you launch quiet strikes at the border of Adment and Callia, taking down Adment’s forces small legion by small legion. Your group becomes known for your silent ambushes, though you take care to keep your identities hidden.

It’s like being a knight again on a smaller scale – planning attacks and carrying them out, knowing that you might lose your life or your friends along the way. It isn’t entirely unwelcome. Fighting still gives you that adrenaline rush, that grim, satisfying knowledge that you’re doing something to protect the people you love.

At the same time, though, it isn’t as fulfilling as it used to be. This life of fighting battles isn’t for you anymore. Yes, you will fight to defend, but you’ve found other ways to protect your loved ones, too.

It just cements the fact that you don’t think you’ll ever come back to Callia to stay.

Finally, Adment surrenders. You’re glad, truly – you’re ready to return to the shrine, as are your friends. As you begin the trek back through some of the rural villages, though, a few posters catch your eye. They spell out a request for the unknown border attackers to come forth to the palace and be honored for their aid in the war.

They know your story, Lia, Juyeon, Kevin, Sunwoo. It was only fair that you told them – how could you lead them to possible death without knowing why you came in the first place, why this was so important to you?

So you ask them. “Do you want to reveal yourselves?”

“I don’t think it’s a question of us,” Juyeon says quietly. “It’s about you.”

“Yes,” Lia echoes. “We’ll follow you, whatever you decide.”

Their trust still astounds you, even after so many years spent trying to dilute the self-loathing that used to plague your brain. “Give me a day to think,” you eventually say. “If you say you’ll follow me, I’ll let you know tomorrow.”

You stay up all night, debating. Your friends have already spent so long away from their home, fighting a war on your behalf. Is it worth it to take the extra few weeks spent traveling to and from the palace? Would it be fair to ask them to journey with you for even longer?

No, Y/N. You shake your head. They asked you to decide, which means they want a decision based on your feelings, on your desires. They’re kind enough to know that this must be your choice to make.

You sigh, leaning back against a sturdy tree. Why are you so hesitant about seeing Jacob again, anyway? You don’t love him anymore, not the way you used to. It doesn’t hurt you as much to think of him. Spirits, you even came all this way to help him in a war you weren’t even involved in.

Maybe you’re afraid that you’ll fall in love with him again, a tiny voice in your head suggests. Maybe you’re afraid that you’ll want to stay.

Oh.

That’s probably it.

Pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes, you sigh again. You love Chan. You love the shrine. You’ve realized that fighting battles as a knight isn’t the way you want to spend the rest of your life. But you’re still afraid that seeing Jacob again will awaken feelings for him once more.

Wait. You sit up, frowning into the darkness. For your feelings to awaken, they would still have to exist.

You don’t love Jacob anymore. The thought of him doesn’t make your heart thump anymore, doesn’t choke your throat with emotions anymore.

Logically, rationally, seeing him again wouldn’t hurt the way it used to.

But love isn’t rational, the oh-so-helpful part of your mind pipes up.

You scowl. Stop making this decision harder.

As the fire dies to glowing coals, as your friends quietly snore throughout the night (except Sunwoo, he snores very loudly), you sit there, mind warring with fear.

By morning, you’ve made your decision.

. . .

The palace is almost the same as you remembered – high, polished stone walls surrounded by a bustling marketplace and lush gardens. The grass looks a bit wilted and the market chatter sounds subdued, but the kingdom has just gone through a war. You would be more worried, really, if everything looked exactly as beautiful as it used to be.

Anxiety bursts in your chest as you slip through the crowds, face covered in a scarf, getting closer and closer to the palace. Three of the Guard stand sentinel at front gates, and even though you’re too far away to see their faces, you’re sure you’d recognize at least a couple of them up close.

“Breathe,” Kevin whispers helpfully next to you. “You’ll be fine.”

You nod shakily. “Yeah.”

Two of the Guard cross their spears over the gates as you approach. The third steps forward, meeting your gaze.

Your heart skips a beat at the sight of an old friend. Changmin!

“State your business,” Changmin says, eyes unmoved. It stings a little that he doesn’t recognize you, but it’s understandable. You’ve both changed over the years – you’ve grown out your hair, while he’s cut his shorter, and he’s lost the last baby fat from his cheeks – and you have a scarf covering half of your face.

“I have business with the king,” you reply, heart hammering in your chest. “I believe my presence was specifically requested, along with that of my friends from the border.”

Faint recognition lights Changmin’s eyes, though they also narrow in slight confusion. He looks at you for a second, gaze piercing yours.

“Is something wrong?” you ask. “We can leave our weapons at the gates, if you wish.”

Changmin shakes his head, shoulders slumped in resignation. “No, I just thought you sounded like someone I once knew.” He looks down. “She had a sword like yours, too.”

Your heart hammers at your old friend’s words. What would he say if he did know it was you?

His voice cuts through your panicked thoughts. “May I have a name by which to introduce you to His Majesty?”

Last chance, you tell yourself. Last chance to turn back.

You won’t lie – the choice sounds appealing, at least to your pounding heart. Glancing up at the high stone walls, you feel the old urge to run away.

You could. You could turn away from the gates right now, leave Changmin remembering someone who will never return. You could travel back to the shrine and forget this ever happened.

But Chan told you to be brave. And being brave doesn’t only apply to war.

You pull down your scarf, smiling at the incredulous expression spreading over Changmin’s face. “You can tell him an old friend’s come back to visit.”

. . .

After yelling at you for never visiting and punching you at least ten times (your arm is so, so sore, but as he reminds you, you should just be glad he didn’t challenge you to a duel right then and there), Changmin brings you into one of the waiting rooms. “I’ll find you and bite you if I come back and see that you’ve disappeared again,” he threatens before heading back into the halls.

Sunwoo raises an eyebrow, looking mildly disturbed. “Bite you?”

You snort, smiling widely. “Long story.”

Too soon, though, there’s another set of footsteps echoing outside of the room. The smile slowly starts to slip off your face, and your heart, previously calmed by Changmin’s characteristic welcome, starts to pound again.

Be brave. Chan’s voice speaks in your mind. Be brave.

You steel yourself.

Then Jacob appears in the doorway, and the room feels like it’s falling away.

. . .

By the time your mind has caught up to the present, you’re wrapped in Jacob’s strong arms, in one of those Jacob hugs that you used to yearn for every day. It’s comforting, warm, but to your pleasant surprise, there’s no hurt. No pain.

You only feel happy.

“You came back,” Jacob whispers, more to himself than to you. “You came back.”

You just laugh, squeezing your best friend harder. “I did.”

Thankfully, your friends understand that you need some time with Jacob alone. Changmin leads them out, already bickering with Sunwoo (how they became friends so quickly, you’re not sure you want to know). In the silence of the room, you and Jacob just stare at each other for a moment.

“I –”

“What –”

You burst into laughter and Jacob joins in, feeling heady with absolute bliss and relief that your worst fears haven’t been realized. You haven’t fallen back in love with Jacob at first sight. His mere presence doesn’t make you want to stay.

“You first,” Jacob finally says when you’ve calmed down. “You first.”

The laughter disappears from your throat as your smile dims. “I never told you the full reason why I left.”

Jacob is a good listener, a fact that you’re grateful for. If he’d interrupted you at any point, you aren’t sure you would’ve been able to continue. Still, though, it’s harrowing, recounting the love you felt for your best friend for so long.

“When I left the first time, I didn’t have any intention of returning.” You state the harsh truth with a bitter taste in your mouth. “I couldn’t bring myself to tell you about what I felt, so seeing you only hurt. I didn’t… I didn’t want to feel any more pain.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” Jacob’s eyes are cloudy, filled with pain on your behalf. “I’m so sorry. If I’d known…”

“Stop.” You put a hand on his shoulder. “One reason I didn’t tell you was because I knew you’d blame yourself. It isn’t your fault. None of it is.”

Jacob sits in silence for a moment. “But you did come back.”

“I did.” A small smile curves your lips. “I found a place that took me in, allowed me to try and find myself once more. I found someone who helped me heal. So when I heard about the war, I didn’t have qualms about coming to help. It was something… I knew it was something I had to do.”

Jacob’s eyes clear. “I see. Your someone, your, um…”

“Husband,” you offer. It’s the closest thing to what Chan is to you that Jacob would understand.

He nods. “Your husband didn’t come?”

“No.” You shake your head. “I came with friends. We have our own things to protect, back at home.”

Home. That word surprises you as it leaves your lips. Home.

The forest, the shrine is your home.

It’s the first time you’ve made this connection. With the realization, a sudden burst of warmth fills your chest.

“I see.” Jacob leans forward, looking genuinely happy for you. “Things are going well, then?”

Briefly, you wonder if you should tell him about the shrine. You decide not to. That’s your secret to keep, at least for now.

“Yes, they are.” A smile involuntarily spreads across your face. “Very well.”

For a moment, the two of you just sit in comfortable silence. Then Jacob speaks. “Can I persuade you again to stay?” he asks, though from the look in his eye, you’re pretty sure he already knows your answer. “You can bring your husband and friends. There will always be a place for you here.”

It feels like you’re being thrown back in time to that day in the training room, just a few months before you left. Your answer is still the same as it was then, so many years ago.

But you have something else to add.

You shake your head. “Not this time, Jacob.” Your smile grows smaller, but softer. “Though I do promise I’ll visit you again.”

. . .

On the horses Jacob gifted you, it only takes a few weeks to return to the forest. You see the children and the priestesses first, waiting at the front of the shrine, followed by the other maidens and messenger boys. Their shouts of welcome bring a smile to your face.

Then Chan appears when you’re riding up to the gates, crushing you in a hug almost before you’ve leapt off your horse.

You lose yourself in your guardian’s warmth, in the strength of his arms wrapped around your body. It feels so similar to Jacob’s hugs, so comforting and soft and strong, but also so uniquely Chan. You laugh into his chest, tears beginning to stream down your face.

“I’m back,” you gasp between the tears. “I’m back, Chan.”

“I know,” he whispers, only holding you closer. “I know.”

A blissful eternity passes, wrapped in Chan’s arms, until he pulls back the slightest bit, just enough to press a long-awaited kiss on your lips. “You’re back,” he says one more time, as though he still can’t quite believe it.

“I am,” you confirm. “I did it, Chan.”

He knows. He knows, looking into your eyes, what you mean by “it.” He knows you don’t just mean that you fought Adment, that you came home alive. He knows there’s something more.

Something involving a certain past love.

Warm, warm pride blooms in Chan’s eyes. “Were you brave?”

Memories race through your mind – staunching bloody wounds, trekking through the forests at the border – but you know that isn’t what Chan means. He knows you can be brave in the midst of battle, brave in protecting those you love the most.

He wants to know if you were brave with him.

Your eyes twinkle as you remember the palace gates, seeing Changmin again, landing in Jacob’s arms once more. You remember his soft voice, his kind eyes full of real, platonic care, a memory you’ll treasure for years to come.

Where you once might have grimaced at the thought of your old home, now, the smile on your face only broadens with every passing second.

“Yes.” Your laughing gaze sparkles into Chan’s proud eyes. “I was.”

[writerpeach]

Room For Dessert

Momoland Ahin x Male Reader

4197 words

Categories: smut, bathroom sex, daddy kink, dirty talk

18+

---

Read on AFF

Read on AO3

It was supposed to be a romantic night. 

It took two months to get a dinner reservation at one of the most prestigious restaurants in downtown Seoul, a place that claimed to be more than just about food, but an experience, which made you roll your eyes but enough friends and co-workers recommended it to give it a shot. 

You had dressed your best, wearing a nice pressed shirt, slacks, and expensive shoes, while your girlfriend Ahin had picked a more...different route and decided to wear the tightest, shortest dress in her wardrobe. White-colored with roses everywhere did not make the outfit or her any more innocent. 

The restaurant was packed, a tiny building with no more than eight tables, it became apparent one of the reasons for the long waitlist. 

You entered hand in hand with your Ahin and felt eyes staring, mostly at Ahin which wasn’t a shocker. She was very easy on the eyes - blonde, gorgeous, and a deadly body. 

You were seated at a small round table by a large window, being on the third floor you had a beautiful view of the city at night, although it was nothing compared to the pretty blonde across the table.

An hour in, it became hard to concentrate on your food. Peering from her side, Ahin’s eyes were a mixture of innocence and sin. One second they were soft and sparkling, the next they became full of lust, flashing bedroom eyes in a place where that was the last thing on your mind. 

“What?” you asked, as you continued eating but couldn’t help but feel like you were the meal by the way Ahin stared at you.

“Nothing, you just eat well,” she replied, feigning a purity to her words. “And not just food, either,” she added with a smile, and you nearly choked.

This was how things always went. 

It was bad enough dealing with her constant teasing, but she had to wear a dress that barely covered her up, her dress involuntarily hiking up to show off her wonderful thighs and was so low-cut her tits were practically spilling out and needing to breathe. 

“You should eat.” 

“Oh, I will but I’m waiting for something more delicious,” she said, and you can’t say you didn’t see that coming from a mile away. 

“Can I get you two anything for dessert?” You were thankful for the interruption, but before you could say another word Ahin spoke up.

”I’d love something sweet...and sticky,” she told the waitress innocently, but yet you knew there was nothing innocent at all about her. 

“Right away, ma’am.” 

“It’s not good to be eating something so sugary this late.”

“I can’t help it, I love sweets. And you know how much I love having cream inside me.”

She was going to be the death of you. 

The waitress shortly returned and placed a delicious looking slice of yellow cake down on the center of the table, decorated with sprinkles, white frosting, and caramel icing. 

“Thank you,” Ahin told the waitress as she grinned playfully at you. Not wasting a second, grabbed the plate towards her, forgoing the use of the two forks placed as she used her fingertip to scoop up a bit of the vanilla frosting. You knew what was next. 

With a smirk a mile wide, she brought her finger to her lips, licking the frosting clean and making sure to leave just a smidgen on the corner of her lips.

“I think I have something on my face. Can you get it for me?” Ahin asked.

You sighed deeply, not wanting to play into her trap and simply handed her a napkin. She frowned and tossed it aside, licking her lips instead. 

Ahin made a show out of eating her dessert, every bite into her mouth full of pure raw seduction. You admired how hard she was trying and simply enjoyed watching her struggling to claim a reaction out of you.

When you had enough you leaned over to Ahin’s side of the table and aimed for a kiss, faking her out as you pivoted your face into the side of her neck. 

“You’re not getting away with this,” you whispered. 

Ahin giggled innocently and averted her attention. She grabbed her phone, her fingers swiping over keys frantically and moments after you felt a buzz inside your pocket. She gestured for you to check your phone but you refused.

“It’s rude to use your phone at the table, baby. Need to say something to me?” 

She didn’t speak, but her lips moved and you could tell what words she had formed.

“Ruin me.”

“Not until we get home.” 

Ahin huffed. “You know...I'm not wearing any underwear,” she boldly said, folding her arms and grinning devilishly, always trying to up the ante. 

“Is that supposed to surprise me?” you asked. To Ahin, underwear was something she wasn’t particularly fond of, and you would have been more shocked if she had any on. 

“No, but it would be a shame if I accidentally dropped something and the whole restaurant saw my bare ass, wouldn’t it?” Right on time, you heard the clang of silverware hitting the cold floor. 

You had enough. Before she had a chance to do anything you grabbed her wrist, leaving enough cash on the table to pay for both meals and a little extra and got the hell out of there. 

“Where are we going...daddy?”

Ignoring her favorite pet name to use you dragged her away, squeezing her hand until you found the perfect place, a large metal door with a sign that said bathroom. 

Not even bothering to check to see if other people were around, you shoved the door open and made sure it was empty before holding it open for her.

“Get in,” you demanded, and she complied without delay. The door slammed shut behind you loud enough to cause the sound to ripple throughout the walls. 

“You’re cute when you’re angry, daddy,” she said as you leaned up against her body, pressing her up against the wall.

“Angry? I’m not angry,” you said as you cupped one side of her pretty face. 

Ahin didn’t believe you with the way she reacted with a grin that was plastered on her stupidly gorgeous face.  

“You didn’t lock the door.” 

“And I’m not going to,” you said harshly. Your only regret was this was a private bathroom, you’d love nothing more than to make good use of a less private stall. 

You could sense the tension in her body as you considered a thousand different ways to use her, running a hand down her shoulder and felt the soft skin of her body as you considered what to do with her. 

“Are you going to fuck me, daddy?” Ahin asked. 

You denied her an answer, sliding a hand in between her thighs and feeling the wetness of her cunt already, confirming the lack of underwear. She was freshly shaved, every inch of her mound smooth as silk as you teased her folds with one fingertip, threatening to enter her and stopping just before giving in to her desire.

“No...I'm going to make you beg.” 

Using your knee to spread her thighs open, Ahin’s breath hitched as you slipped a finger inside her tight hole only for a moment before withdrawing it out. It also didn’t surprise you to find your finger covered in her slick. 

“You like being such a slut in public, don’t you?”

“You caught me,” she smirked, but her confidence was shattered as you felt up one of her warm, creamy thighs, inching closer to touching her pussy again but stopping short at the last moment as she instinctively whined. 

That sound you had heard before meant she was breaking already, letting her guard down without a struggle and melting at your every touch. 

Before you could even touch her pretty pussy again you could feel her thighs becoming damp, trying to close them around your hand but you kept them forced open.

Ahin was a messy girl, to say the least. Her apartment had a closet dedicated to spare sheets as she was known to ruin them without warning, turning herself into a water fountain without an off switch.  

With Ahin’s confidence draining you kept the pressure, kissing her luscious neck in several spots before rushing to pull the straps of her dress down. Licking her neck just once, you yanked the top of her dress down to expose her marvelous chest, her full round breasts bouncing as they were freed. You salivated at the very sight of them. 

You felt your pants tightening as you stared at her juicy tits, her pretty nipples swollen already and bright pink and you were hungry for your second meal of the night. 

Ahin gasped as you touched her, fondling her huge breasts in the same way you had done dozens of times. Hearing her moan softly was pleasing to your ears as you squeezed and massaged them, you never got tired of playing with her tits. You never got tired of how heavy and soft they felt in your hands, fingertips sporadically teasing her pretty nipples to earn another moan. 

Licking in between her cleavage, you kept up the obsession with her breasts as you brought your lips to her chest and traced the outline of one nipple before sucking harshly on it, switching between the two. It didn’t take long before her nipples were drenched in spit and you found yourself back in between her legs, one finger than another, feeling her warmth on your fingers but barely moving as her entire body twitched. 

“D-daddy...” she whined. She was yours now. 

“Yes, princess?” you asked as she tried moving her hips to ride your fingers. You made sure to pump your fingers inside her as slowly as possible to deny her the full friction really needed. Had she not acted up earlier she’d be gushing already all over the bathroom tile for sure.

It’s easy to see why Ahin did this, why she spent so much time trying to get a rise out of you if this is what she got in return. 

Finding a rhythm you pumped faster inside Ahin, feeling her walls squeezing your finger as she moaned breathlessly. She was doing a lousy job of keeping quiet, but you weren’t sure if she couldn’t control herself or just wanted to rile you up. 

That wet squelch of your fingers fucking her hole echoed alongside the bathroom walls, finding her spot with ease and curling inside her as her pretty moans increased. Your fingers were soaked, her slick coating them and dripping down her thighs and Ahin looked so damn beautiful like this.

She could barely keep her eyes open at this point, her arms down by her side as she tried to scrape her nails into the wall, desperate to hold on to anything as she felt her abdomen tighten.

You worked a third finger into her very tight pussy, feeling her juices leaking all over your hand as you rubbed her clit, her walls tightening with each pump of your fingers. 

She was close, you could see it in her eyes and you could hear it, she needed just a tiny bit more.

But you weren’t going to give it to her. At the last possible moment you pulled your fingers out abruptly and she almost came untouched. 

“D-daddy!” she whined, and you smiled brightly at her. 

“Only good girls get to cum,” you said, giving her needy pussy a handful of slaps before removing your hand from her thighs. 

“That’s not fair,” she whimpered. 

“Oh, I think it’s plenty fair given your actions.”

“I was just trying to spice up dinner. It’s not my fault you’re no fun.”

“You wanted fun did you?” you said, running a hand through soft strands of Ahin’s pretty golden locks. 

If anything you wanted to rip that dress completely off her tight sexy body and force her to walk out of here bare ass naked, but you really liked this place, and getting kicked out was the last thing you wanted. 

“Then suck my fucking dick,” you hissed, grabbing the back of her head and guided her down until she knelt in front of you. With her lips smiling wide she quickly unzipped your pants and yanked hard, taking them down with your boxers and released your cock. 

Her eyes lit up as your cock ended in her small hand, licking her sinful lips as she stroked you and licked your length at the same time. 

“So fucking hard already, daddy,” she smiled as she jerked off your cock, planting several sloppy wet kisses alongside your shaft in admiration. 

“Then do something about it.”

Giving one more kiss on your tip, Ahin licked stripes up and down your heavy balls before taking you inside her warm mouth. You moaned loudly at the feeling of her soft pouty lips wrapped around your cock and she went to work. 

“That’s a good girl,” you told her as she took you halfway in already, keeping a hand stroking you as her lips did their magic. 

“Feels so fucking good. Such a good little slut aren’t you, sucking me off in a bathroom?” 

With her mouth currently occupied, Ahin couldn’t answer verbally, but her eyes showed she loved what she was doing. She slurped and slurped, sucking sloppily and keeping her eyes wide open to see your reaction, keeping her mouth on your shaft as her head bobbed up and down.

“It’s nice having you quiet for a change. Should really have you do this more often.” You smiled proudly as you held on to her head with both hands, pushing her gradually down towards your base and feeling her throat tightening as you felt the back of it. 

“That’s it, baby, take it all.” 

You groaned as her lips met your base, keeping eye contact as you felt her wet mouth deepthroat every inch of you with ease, stuffing her mouth full of hard flesh. Ahin didn’t need any adjustment as she withdrew her lips and slammed herself back down, taking all of you again and again and found a rhythm, moaning around your shaft as you felt warmth and wetness enveloping every inch of your cock.

“Fuuuck...” you moaned and gasped as Ahin continued sucking you off, guiding her movements as she gave the most phenomenal blowjob. Loud messy slurps accompanied her sultry lips as her tight warm mouth moved from tip to base in one satisfying stroke, sliding up and down without a hint of a gag reflex as saliva dripped from her mouth.

Your cock inside her warm mouth felt like heaven, her tongue working against your underside to create even more pleasure, watching the look in her eyes as she swallowed you down her throat. There was more than enough happening to finish you off herself, to take pleasure from her without any in return, but you wouldn't be satisfied, not until she was a mess. 

Regrettably, you pulled her off your shaft as saliva spilled out of her mouth. She looked rather disappointed as she stroked your cock furiously, grabbing a handful of your sack and fondling your balls. 

“They’re so full, daddy,” she said as she tenderly kissed each one, licking and slurping away greedily and hungrily.

“Alright, that’s enough. Time for me to have some fun.”

You grabbed both hands as you lifted her up to her feet, taking a second to gawk at her body. Her anticipation was high as you hiked her dress up, lifting her up and grabbing her ass as you pinned her against the wall like she was an expensive piece of artwork.

She gasped and never felt so wet between her thighs. “Fuck me, daddy,” she begged, wrapping her arms around your neck, with desperation etched on her features. 

“Do you deserve that?” you asked as you teased your cock through her soft silky folds, collecting her wetness on your shaft. She nodded without a word.

“I don’t think so. Maybe I should just finish um all over that pretty face without even letting you feel me.”

”Daddy, please…” she whined.

“Please what?”

“Please fuck me, daddy. Please.” 

Every desperate word out of her mouth matched the pleading expression on her face. 

“Please daddy...I want to feel that big throbbing cock fucking me senseless and stretching out my tight little pussy. Please, please fuck me, I’ll be a good girl I promise.”

Ahin being reduced to begging was your favorite thing in the world. You looked at her, enjoying the need and wanton desire in her eyes. Without a second of warning, you shoved your cock inside her tight pussy all the way deep, earning a loud shriek as you filled her up with every inch. 

“Oh my god!” 

“Careful baby, you don’t want someone to hear you do you?”

“We both know the answer to that.” 

Moving at an agonizing pace, Ahin’s tight walls swallowed you inside her as you started to thrust, her pussy squeezing the life out of your cock as you began fucking her up against the wall. Plenty wet, hot and tight around your shaft, her cute whimpers and moans filling your ears were just the thing you needed as you kept her tight hole full of your cock.

“God, you’re fucking big, shit.”

“You’re so tight and wet. Acting like a slut turns you on this much?”

“I’m not acting.”

You both smiled, and you kissed her for the first time of the night, muffling her moans as you exerted more energy in your hips.

It took several thrusts for Ahin to adjust, breathing heavily already. She was so wet and becoming wetter with each deep thrust, the way her pussy wrapped tight around your cock and refused to let go, there wasn't a better feeling. 

"Daddy, pound me," she pleaded. 

You had your fun with her and didn't see any reason to deny her request this time. Building up the pace, you gradually fucked Ahin harder, earning louder and deeper moans as you buried your shaft deep inside her pretty tight cunt, setting her sensitive nerves on fire. You kept her tight body pressed up against the bathroom wall, keeping a tight firm grip on her ass as you drove yourself into her, hearing her moaning beautifully into your ears. 

"God you’re so deep, so fucking deep,” she moaned and you kept your eyes glued to her, watching the pleasure overtake her body. 

“You like when I fuck your pussy like this? You like when I use you in public like a dirty little slut?” 

Ahin’s bliss kept her from answering, the pleasure wreaking havoc on all her senses as she rested her head on your shoulder, wrapping her luscious legs around your waist to help take some of her weight off.

Neither of you were a stranger to messing around in public, but the thrill of anyone able to come into the unlocked bathroom while you were balls deep in your girlfriend wasn’t any less hot.

“Y-yes, daddy, fuck me just like this! More daddy, fuck me harder!”

You were going to fuck Ahin hard enough that anyone left inside the restaurant would hear her. Squeezing her ass even more, you slammed harshly inside her and pistoned your hips, finding the right angle to slam into her cunt with. You could hear how wet she was before you felt it, her juices leaking everywhere, dripping down your balls and her thighs, leaving a mess on the tile floor. 

“You’re so fucking hot, I can’t stand it. I love how your pussy feels.” 

“I’m so glad, daddy. I love what you’re doing to me, I’m so fucking wet. Don’t stop, even after you blow your load in me.”

She had such a filthy mouth and you loved it. Her tightness was overwhelming, clamping down so firmly on your dick as you pounded into her, it was amazing you’d lasted this long. 

The rawness of the situation, the public setting, the way Ahin was constantly moaning into your ears, it was far too much. Your cock was drowned with her juices, the rhythm constant as you fucked into her tight hole as harshly as you could, her big tits bouncing with every thrust that rocked her slim sexy body.

With every entrance into her, Ahin grew tighter and tighter, setting off signals that she was approaching climax. 

“D-daddy, c-can I cum? P-please?” She had learned her lesson, and you didn’t feel a need to deny her again. 

“Of course. All over my cock, princess.” 

You could sense her relief as her limbs tightened around your body, becoming an absolute mess as her pussy tightened almost painfully and pulsated around your shaft. Her breathing became heavy and deep, throwing her head back as she came all over your shaft.

You kept the motions going and fucked her through her orgasm, not letting her recover as you selfishly chased your own pleasure. Keeping her tight body in your arms, squeezing the soft flesh of her ass you kept up the moments in your hips, letting her feel every inch.

Letting the last fleeting moments of pleasure take control of your body, you savored the hot flesh of Arin’s slick pussy as you slid inside and out at a pace you couldn’t keep up for much longer.  

“I’m gonna fucking cum,” you growled, harshly pounding into Ahin as deep as you could, the sounds of skin slapping loud enough to be heard outside. 

“Fill me, daddy. Please, I need it dripping down my thighs, cum inside your little slut.”

Her begging was the exact encouragement you needed, giving everything as you continued to fuck her against the wall as long as you could last. 

You suspected anyone outside could hear, maybe they didn’t care, or maybe they were outside with their ear to the wall. Either way, you wanted to finish before someone showed up, and you weren’t intent on drawing this out.

The final moments felt eternal. You and Ahin staring into each other’s eyes, waiting for that peak to hit, for you to explode at any point. It was beautiful as it was hot.

Your breathing stalled and you couldn’t take it anymore, throbbing inside Ahin as you deposited your load deep inside her pussy, groaning loudly enough for anyone within range to hear. She watched the contorted expressions on your face, as you pumped as many times as your body would let you as you filled Ahin to the brim with hot cum, her tight pussy milking every last drop out of your shaft. 

Ahin had never looked so satisfied. You kept yourself inside her for as long as you could take it, but the weight of her body in your exhausted state was too much as you let her down gingerly and pulled yourself out of her as her limbs unraveled around you.

Trying to catch your breath you detached from one another, Ahin’s legs felt weak, and you watched proudly as your load leaked from between her flushed thighs and began dripping down.

“I don’t think I’m going to be able to walk out of here,” Ahin said with a smirk as she fell to her knees. It so happened that she was at the perfect eye level to your cock, sucking you clean as she played with the remnants of the hot load that was still inside her freshly fucked pussy.

“I’ll carry you if I need to, but we should get out of here, we defiled it enough,” you said, dressing back up and trying to clean up as best as you could. There weren’t enough paper towels in the world to clean what you did to that bathroom.

Ahin pulled herself together with the limited energy she had left, pulling her straps back and her dress down, checking herself in the mirror.

“You really ravaged me,” she smiled tiredly upon seeing her messy disheveled hair in the mirror and deciding against fixing it. 

“Can’t say you didn’t deserve it.” 

“Oh, I definitely did.” 

“It’s a shame we’ll have to wait another two months to come back here.” 

“We don’t need a reservation for you to fuck me in the bathroom.” 

“You make a very good point.”

You were scared to even open the door at this point, slowly letting it creak open as you took a peek. Not a soul. Seeing Ahin on spaghetti legs, barely moving and fatigued you quickly picked her up and carried her to the car, not wanting to dawdle.

“One of these days we’re going to get caught,” you said, helping her sit inside the passenger side. 

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

She kissed you as she buckled in, you closed her door and headed to the other side. 

Starting the car, you looked at Ahin in her post-sex afterglow, still beautiful as ever.

“Are we heading home?” she asked weakly, still feeling the effects of the night.

"No...not until I have my dessert."

[oikawaplssteponme]

PREVIOUSLY • MASTERLIST

pairing: (prince) Sawamura Daichi x (princess) fem! reader

warnings: none

word count: 1.6k words

synopsis: A childhood lover, a perfect picture, a thoughtful risk, a dashing spark, a resurfaced fling, a beautiful mystery, and an unlikely charmer. With so many flowers in the garden, which do you pick?

a/n: hello loves! i hope you all are doing well :)) reminder that the taglist is still open, just send an ask or leave a comment to be added <3 id love to hear your thoughts and please reblog!! tags have been weird lately so id really appreciate the reblogs :) !

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆ ⋆*･ﾟ: ☾

Nervous

“Good morning Your Grace! Rise and shine!” Anita came bursting into your room. She opened up your bedroom curtains, revealing the burning sunshine. You grabbed one of your pillows and buried your head under it.

“Oh gosh what time is it…” you groaned.

“Time to start getting ready. I’ll have your breakfast brought in momentarily.” Anita left your room just as quickly as she entered it. You removed the pillow from your head and sat up.

“Oh good you’re up.” Your mother, the queen, entered your room, followed by Anita and your breakfast tray.

“Thank you.”

“Eat up sweetheart. You’ll need your energy for today!” said your mother.

“Why must the ball be so late today?” You asked, “and why have you woken me up so early…”

“It’s the Midnight Ball Y/N! It’s tradition whenever the kingdom of Karasuno comes to visit,” she explained. You nodded.

The Prince of Karasuno would be next on your agenda. You had heard nothing but nice things about him. He was known to be responsible, kind, level headed, everything a future king would need to be.

“Your gown for tonight is getting finished up at the tailor’s. I’ll be picking it up in about an hour or so,” explained Anita.

“I’ll join you,” you said as you took a sip from your tea. Your mother shook her head.

“You have much to prepare for here, darling. Anita can take care of it herself.”

“I’ll only be gone for an hour or two. I promise I’ll be back in time,” you insisted.

“Very well… I’ll make sure your ride is prepared.” Your mother patted the top of your head before leaving your room. You looked at Anita, sighing.

“I suppose this is how things will be for a while. A ball every week, a new dress to try on, and someone new to see.”

“You’ll certainly never be bored, Your Highness. I’ll set out your garments for this morning’s trip and meet you outside.” Anita flashed you a bright smile before heading over to your closet, picking out a simple, light pink dress. She laid it on the chair of your vanity before leaving.

You finished your breakfast and got yourself ready then went to meet Anita outside.

“Ready to go, Your Majesty?” she asked. You smiled.

“Anita you know you can call me Y/N, and yes.”

The ride into town was smooth. It was an exceptionally beautiful day, birds chirping, the sun shining. You waved to whoever you saw as people eagerly noticed your arrival.

You arrived at the tailors right on time. It was a dainty shop, filled with endless piles of fabric and designs to fuel anyone's imagination.

“Good morning Your Royal Highness! Here to pick up your gown for tonight’s ball?” asked Mari, the shop owner.

“The Princess is also in need of one final fitting before we can take the gown back to the castle with us,” explained Anita. Mari nodded.

“Yes yes of course! Right this way my darling!”

She led you and Anita to where the mannequin stood, wearing the dress.

“Wow…”

It was an extravagant gown, black as the midnight sky. The sunlight peeking in from the windows bounced off of the small crystals, making it sparkle. It lastly had a matching cape, since the ball would take place at night.

“Mari you never disappoint, it is truly gorgeous,” you said.

“Oh thank you Princess. Here, let's get you laced up.”

The dress fit you perfectly as expected. It’s sweetheart neckline and floral detail looked stunning on you. Mari packaged up your dress as you waited with Anita.

“We actually have one last stop before we can head back,” she explained.

“Where?” you asked. Anita smiled.

“It seems that your prince has a gift for you.”

You and Anita walked along the streets of town until reaching the flower shop. You breathed in the scents of gardenias and lilies.

“Pick up for Y/N L/N,” explained Anita to the front desk attendant. They scurried off to the back cooler and brought out the biggest arrangement of flowers you had ever seen.

“Oh wow…”

It was a mix of orange and black roses, with a small card peaking out.

‘Until tonight Princess… -D.S.’

“D.S.?” you questioned. Anita chuckled.

“It’s from Prince Sawamura Daichi, Your Majesty.”

“He certainly knows how to make a girl smile,” you whispered.

“He’s perfect…” gushed Anita. You chuckled.

“We’ll see about that…”

~

As the day drew on, you found yourself back at home. You were finally getting ready for the ball, that started in just a few hours. You showered and wrapped yourself up in your silk robe. You walked into your room, where Anita was laying out your dress.

“Anita what do you know about Sawamura Daichi?” you asked. She chuckled nervously.

“Well I don’t know too much...but I know that he is a great leader with a kind heart. He puts others before himself and is devoted to helping others. Anyone would be lucky to have a heart like his.”

“It seems like you know more than you think,” you teased. Anita shook her head.

“Oh my apologies. Here, let's get you laced up.”

Anita cinched you up into your gown. She did your makeup and clipped on your cape.

“Stunning as always,” she smiled.

“Thank you. Shall we go?”

The garden was marvelously decorated with lights and lanterns. There was a grand fountain in the middle of it all, the floor a checkered pattern . The full moon shined above you, making the moonlight bounce off of your gown. You greeted people as they approached you, keeping one eye out for the Prince.

“Excuse me, You Grace?”

You turned around to see a man smiling at you with grey hair.

“Yes?”

“Princess Y/N L/N, I am pleased to introduce you to the marvelous, chivalrous, most handsome-”

“That’s enough Sugawara…”

“Oh right...Prince Sawamura Daichi, Your Majesty.” He moved out of the way, allowing the prince to step forward.

“My apologies, he tends to get carried away,” smiled Daichi. You chuckled.

“I actually liked your introduction,” you teased.

“I’m glad. Would you care to dance?” Sawamura pointed to the dance floor. You nodded.

“I would love to.”

You took his hand and he guided you to the floor, He bowed before you, then placed his hand onto your waist and held up your other hand.

“Thank you for the flowers,” you said. Daichi smiled.

“I’m glad they found you well. I wasn’t sure which flowers were your favorite so I decided to play it safe with roses.”

“I do love roses.”

“Do you have a favorite flower?”

“Not particularly. I love the assortment bouquets, that way I get a little of everything,” you explained.

“I see.”

Daichi spun you around the floor, keeping you close to you. His eyes almost as dark as the midnight sky, you could’ve fallen into them. As your hand rested on his bicep, you could tell just how strong he was. His strong build but gentle smile warmed your heart.

You watched as what looked to be a sweat droplet glided down the side of his forehead. You chuckled.

“Are you nervous?” you asked. Sawamura tilted his head.

“Nervous? What makes you say that?”

“It looks like you’re sweating.”

Daichi patted his forehead with the back of his hand. He smiled.

“That’s not sweat princess, that’s rain.”

The two of you looked up at the sky, seeing the clouds rolling over you. You closed your eyes, starting to feel the soft water trickle down upon you.

“Everyone inside!” shouted the king. People began to rush over to the doors, hiding under the walkway.

“Y/N, darling, you’re gonna get sick!” insisted your mother. As you soon became drenched by the rain, you looked to Daichi, who held onto your hand.

“I have a dance to finish,” you smiled. Daichi grinned, placing his hand back onto your waist and once again, guided you along the dance floor.

It was just the two of you, dazzling under the stormy moonlight. As lightning struck and thunder boomed, you kept your eyes on Sawamura. How he made you laugh, calling you reckless for proposing this idea. Even as the floor became even more slippery, you and Daichi didn’t stop. Soon, the orchestra came back, playing for you. Drums sounding along with the sound of thunder, causing goosebumps on your skin.

The two of you caught your breath, panting as water droplets dripped down your lips. You wrapped your arms around his neck, keeping you balanced. Without realizing it, yours and Sawamura’s foreheads were pressed against each other. Daichi locked eyes with you, placing his hand under your chin.

“I think it’s safe to say that you took my breath away.”

~

The two of you went inside the palace a short time later. Anita brought you both towels to dry yourselves off.

You now sat with the prince on the grand staircase. The two of you talked about all kinds of things. He told you about Karasuno, you told him about what there was to do around your kingdom. He listened happily to every word you had to say.

“You’ll have to show me around soon, I didn’t get to explore much today,” he said. You nodded.

“I would love to do that.”

“Excuse me, Your Highness, we must be going.”

You looked over to the man who entered with the prince earlier. You sighed, almost wishing he didn't have to leave.

“Very well, just one moment please.”

Daichi stood up from the steps. He helped you up as well.

“It was such a pleasure meeting you Y/N. I wish we didn’t have to part so soon,” he smiled.

“As do I. I hope you have safe travels, and the next time you’re here I will happily show you around.” Daichi smiled.

“I would love that.”

He carefully took your hand, kissing the top of it. He took his soaked suit jack and draped it over his shoulder before joining Sugawara. You sighed.

“He really is perfect.”

•

[ taglist OPEN : @lealofsblog @iwaisa @bakugousmymassa @evivn1 @tetsoleil @bokutory @vangoghmusings @moonlightaangel @misszenin @marajillana @asahisimpnation @sopesmin @alaina-rose13 @shotoful @koutarousangel @shoutamajiki @definitelynottrin @sullen-angel24 @thatprettybunny ]

[desiraypark]

Ominous (Part 4)

Part I | Part II | Part III

CHARACTERS: Adam Sackler, Brenda “Bree” Sackler, Tako, and Patrice (OC - Tako’s fiancée/wife) CONTENT: Flashbacks, Fluff, Angst, Addiction Mentions, Tough Talk, Sex Implied, Use of the B-word (B*tches)

Tako and Patrice’s Townhome Bree’s Previous Apartment (2BR, 1BA)

FOUR YEARS AGO (Tako and Patrice’s Engagement Party)

“You’re so fucking in love, dude!” Tako exclaimed as she punched Adam in the chest.

Adam laughed as he twisted the cap off a small bottle of water and Tako made herself another plate of food. 

“I’ve never seen you like this. You’re all calm and cool. Leaning against shit like you’re fucking Frank Sinatra.”

Adam shook his head and took a sip of water. Looking beyond the bottom of the bottle, he got a glimpse at Bree in the living room talking with Tako’s fiancée, Patrice. They were certainly talking about Bree’s outfit--a pink and yellow jumpsuit that she’d made herself. The spaghetti-strapped top was split in half--yellow on the left side of her body, pink on the right. Her right pants leg was yellow, the left one pink. The bright, summery colors popped against her brown skin. She’d traded in her eyeglasses for contact lenses for the night, and her curly hair fell to her shoulders.

“See!” Tako beamed. She added a spoonful of sliced strawberries to her plate. “Tell me what she knows and doesn’t know about you before I accidentally spill some fucking beans.”

Tako leaned against the counter beside Adam and he shrugged. “She knows everything.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Everything?”

“Y-yeah. Pretty much.”

“She knows about...you know. The alcohol?”

Adam nodded. “Yes.”

“She knows that you’re a slut?”

“Reformed slut. And she kinda knows...”

“Kinda knows?” Tako asked, popping a cheese cube into her mouth. Adam rotated the bottled water between his palms.

“I wanted to talk about it, but she said she didn’t care. So...”

Tako raised both eyebrows. “Wow. I don’t know if I’m impressed or worried.”

Adam laughed. “Bree is...she’s easily the most easygoing...the most understanding...the most thoughtful girl I’ve ever dated...”

“Well, then. I’m happy for you, kid.”

Adam stole a strawberry from Tako’s plate and softly elbowed her in the rib.

____________________ PRESENT Adam stood at the counter eating leftover spaghetti. Her hair tied in a silk scarf and a sheer robe flowing behind her, Patrice walked into the kitchen, bringing flames with her.

“Why don’t you sit at the table?” she asked coldly. She opened the refrigerator and grabbed a bottle of water. 

Adam shrugged. “I’m almost done.”

Patrice closed the robe around her body, covering her silk pajamas. Adam’s eyes inadvertently landed on the red slushy maker that he and Bree bought them as a wedding gift. He quickly looked back down at his plate, and Patrice left the kitchen, leaving her unmistakable heat for him to simmer in.

He’d cleaned his paper plate and dropped it in the trash can when Tako walked by with pieces of bedding in her arm. He turned off the kitchen light and walked into the living room, where she’d placed two sheets and a blanket on the sofa. Then, she placed the Roku remote on top of it. 

“We usually unplug everything at nine, but here’s the remote if you wanna watch TV. Or listen to some music. Whatever.”

“How pissed is Patrice?” Adam asked. 

“PATRICE IS VERY PISSED!” Patrice shouted from their bedroom.

The corner of Tako’s mouth quirked as if you to say “there you have it”. Adam sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. 

Tako tilted her head to the left and Adam followed her past their bedroom, where Patrice was pulling back the covers. They walked past the bedroom of Jason--Tako and Patrice’s eight-month-old son. Adam’s heart began to pound and a lump formed in his throat. This was supposed to be him and Bree, only they would live in a house away from the city.

Adam was happy to commute to work if it meant that Bree could have her own quaint boutique in some quaint shopping district in some quaint town. They were going to have two or three kids, a dog, and a backyard for them all to run around in. He had to make things right. He wanted Bree and wanted the future they’d planned. 

Tako led him into the small home office and closed the door. She sat in the rolling chair and Adam sat in a wingback chair by the door, against the wall. 

“So...who was it?” she asked. 

Adam rubbed his temples. “Jessa.”

“Fuck, dude...”

“Yeah, I know. I fucking know,” Adam groaned, sliding down into the chair. “I don’t know what the fuck happened.”

“I mean, are you still in love with Jessa, or...?”

“No, I’m not. I’ve barely thought about her for years.”

“Is something going on with you and Bree...?”

“No,” Adam mumbled. He leaned forward and placed his head in his hands. Then, he sat back up. “Bree is perfect.”

He shrugged. “She’s perfect. I don’t know. I don’t know why I did it.”

Tako stared straight through Adam. She folded her arms and tapped her fingertips on her arm. Adam pressed his back against the chair and exhaled.

“We got some coffee and we just started talking. It felt like old times again. We went to my place and talked some more...”

“Your place?!” Tako asked.

Guilt rushed over Adam’s face and Tako held her hands up. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Go on.”

“That’s it. We talked some more. I showed her the apartment, you know. The view. Next thing I knew...”

Adam rested his head against the wall and Tako just stared at him. “You want it hard or you want it soft?”

“Whatever,” Adam scoffed. “I don’t care.”

Tako leaned forward against the desk. She gathered her thoughts before she spoke. 

“You talked so much shit about the girls you’ve dated. Hannah, Jessa. FiFi?”

“MiMi Rose,” Adam corrected.

“Yeah, her,” Tako continued. “You talked so much about how much they thrived off drama. You know what I think? I think you thrive off that shit, too.”

“No I fucking don’t,” Adam snapped.

“Then what is it? Tell me? You’ve got a wife who--from what you tell me--has done more for you than all of those bitches combined. She’s fucking hot--she’s the nicest fucking person I’ve ever met. She’s honest--she’s all the shit you claim you like--and you risked your marriage to her for Jessa? I’m just not understanding, Adam.”

Adam ran his fingers through his hair again and stared at the ceiling.

____________________ THREE YEARS AGO

“Ughhhh,” Adam groaned. He wrapped his arms around Bree’s waist as she dug through her closet. “Do you have to go?”

Bree chuckled. “Yes, I have to go.”

Adam nuzzled at her neck as she looked over a green dress. “It’ll only be a few days, babe.”

Bree hung the dress back up and pulled out a burgundy one. Adam groaned again and Bree grabbed a pink dress.

“A few days is too long,” he mumbled. He stood up straight and stepped backward to sit down on Bree’s bed. “I hate being away from you for just a day.”

Bree folded the pink dress over her arm and looked at Adam. She could see the genuine sadness in his face. Then, she walked over to him, placed the dress on the bed, and rested her hands against his shoulders. Adam opened his legs and pulled Bree close--his arms resting comfortably on the sharp curve of her ass.

“Are you serious right now?” Bree asked softly. She ran her fingers through his hair.

“I don’t like separations,” Adam said with a pout. He pressed kisses against the fabric over her navel and took in the sugary scent of her lotion. “I like being around you. All the time.”

“Baby,” Bree said softly. She lifted Adam’s face by his chin. She gazed upon his darkened eyes--noticing the glints of amber as they partially met the light of the ceiling lamp overhead. She kept running her fingers through his hair, thinking carefully about her words.

“I love you.”

Adam chewed on his lips and stared into Bree’s eyes--coffee irises protected by long, thick lashes. “I love you, too.”

“...I don’t want you to...”

“Don’t want me to what?”

“I don’t want you to make a drug out of me,” she said. 

Adam’s eyes stayed on Bree. Finally, he blinked. “What?”

Bree sighed and shook her head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”

She tried to pull away but Adam pulled her close. “No. I know what you mean.” He kissed her belly again. “I know what you mean.”

Bree bent down and kissed Adam’s forehead. “I’m so proud of you. Things have been so good for you.”

Then, she sat back up and pinched his cheeks.

“You’re a big boy, aren’t you?” she asked in a high pitched voice. Adam rolled his eyes and looked away. “You can survive a few days without Mommy, can’t you?”

A devilish grin formed on Adam’s face and he pulled Bree down onto the bed with him, making her squeal. 

“You’re a fucking comedian, now?" he asked. He locked his legs around hers, trapping her body against his and making her laugh. Suddenly, they fell silent and looked into each other’s eyes again. Bree lowered her head and kissed Adam’s on the lips.

“You’ve gotta bring me some fucking Al Capone merch or some shit,” Adam said. Bree chuckled.

“I am not buying Al Capone merch. How about I bring you a few slices of deep-dish pizza?”

“You know that I’m trying to eat healthy,” Adam growled, squeezing Bree’s ass. 

“I forgot, I’m sorry. Well, how about this...” Bree mumbled, running her finger down Adam’s lips, to his chin, and down his neck. “When I get back...”

Bree reached behind her and pushed Adam’s palm deeper against her right ass cheek. “...I’ll bring you a nice organic treat. You can eat it for as long as you want.”

Adam bit his lips, closed his eyes, and exhaled through his nostrils. After a brief pause, he flipped Bree over so that he was on top of her. Her laugh filled the room as he tugged at her pajama shorts.

“I have to finish packing!” she squealed.

“You’ll finish when I finish,” Adam said, sliding down the bed and onto his knees.

____________________ PRESENT

Wrapped in a Christmas-themed throw blanket, Bree sat on the sofa, staring at the television without a single clue as to what was happening on it. She thought about the assortment of desserts that she passed on at the pizzeria. She regretted not ordering an entire pie to bring home. The city lights shimmered in the distance--for she didn’t have the strength or desire to pull down the shades. She wondered where Adam was. Tako and Patrice’s? Ray’s?

Jessa’s?

She shook the thought out of her head. Her eyes landed upon her wedding photo. He wore a blue tuxedo and (much to her mother’s chagrin) she wore a flowing yellow. Bree rose from the sofa, walked to the console, and stared at the photo--he was hunched over and her arms were around his neck as they engaged in a soft kiss. Bree put the framed photo face down, returned to the sofa, and turned off the television.

Then, she fluffed the caseless pillow on the left end of the sofa and laid her head upon it. She curled up in a ball and pulled the throw blanket close to her chin. 

Suddenly, the shadowy figure of a woman formed on her balcony. Bree turned to face the inside back of the sofa and pulled the blanket completely over her face.

[busterkeatonfanfic]

Chapter 30

The idea came about as they were sitting in the semi-dark watching the previous day’s rushes of Snap Shots on the retractable projector. It was the rough stuff before the cuts, several takes of him being jostled by the crowd thronging to see the ticker-tape parade and being thrown against Marceline, falling more in love over her shoulder as he scented her perfume. Nelly laughed more than he expected her to. There were even a couple belly laughs. 

When he turned to her for an explanation, she ran her hand over the top of his head and to the base. “Oh Buster, your face,” she said, combing her fingers through his hair and caressing him. “I don’t know how you make it do that, but it always tells everything.”

Hearing that cheered him up. With the premiere of Steamboat nearing, he’d started to feel nervous about the critics again, which in turn made him nervous about Snap Shots. What if it was another turkey and the writers were right all along with their dictionary-sized script? Encouraged, he told her a little about where he thought the film was heading and she nodded, agreeing with his plot. 

“I ought to go wash my hair or I’ll lose the will,” she said, when there was a lull in the conversation. 

“Aw, forget your hair,” he said. He was having the time of his life showing her the pleasures of the Villa and was reluctant to call it night. 

“Absolutely not. Now it smells like chlorine, anyway.” 

He’d been able to persuade her into the pool before night had fallen. She wouldn’t hear of wearing one of Nate’s bathing suits, and was probably right that they wouldn’t have fit her bosom. Instead, she wore one of his one-piece suits and they splashed for an hour, challenging each other to races and engaging in a little idle necking. They hadn’t redressed afterwards, just donned cotton robes from the bathhouse and walked around the house in bare feet. Caruthers cooked ribs for dinner with asparagus and French-cooked new potatoes on the side, and they’d eaten in the breakfast room. 

“Chlorine-schmorine,” he said.

“I’m serious,” she said, withdrawing her hand. She gave him a playful but firm prod. “C’mon, Mr. Cameraman.”

“Oh, thinking about becoming a Ziegfried Girl?”

It was a joke, but as he took her upstairs to his bedroom it occurred to him that he did have a camera. He’d bought it over the winter, only to realize he had nothing to shoot. Natalie didn’t like the daredevil poses he put the boys in, calling them ‘dangerous,’ and he wasn’t about to aim the camera at her dour face after she lectured him. So he put it in a corner of one of his closets and forgot about it. A hitch of excitement went through his stomach as he entered the bathroom with Nelly. She would get into the water and she would be naked. 

“May I?” said Nelly, gesturing to the clawfoot tub. 

He nodded, throat going a little dry.

She sat on the edge and turned on the taps, keeping her fingers under the stream of water until it was to her liking, then plugging the drain. 

“I’m not going to get a lick of privacy, am I?” she said, lifting an eyebrow. 

He shook his head. “Wouldn’t miss this for the world.” 

She rolled her eyes and half-smiled at him. While the tub filled, she stood at the porcelain sink and went through the familiar motions of letting down her hair. He sat on the toilet seat looking up at her and smoking a cigarette, pretending not to be as interested as he really was. She brushed her hair with his silver hairbrush after unpinning it. It was halfway down her back, and so thick she had to hold sections up to brush the under layers. Once she’d finished with her hair, she turned off the bathtub taps and gave him an exasperated look, although he could see she was teasing. The cotton robe came off. He didn’t have much of a chance to admire the way his bathing suit looked on her much curvier frame before she shucked it down. He whistled.

“Hush,” she said, dipping a leg into the tub. She put the other leg in, sat down, and examined his selection of shampoos and soaps. He could have offered her Natalie’s more expensive shampoos, all scented like flowers, but knew she wouldn’t have it. So cocoa nut oil shampoo it was. She drew up her knees and disappeared into the tub, dunking her head, and sat up with her hair drenched. He looked at her bubs, the rich brownness of her hair, and knew he wanted to fix the sight forever. He ignored her questions as he stepped out of the room, went into the hall, and turned on the lights in his closet. The camera and tripod were where he’d left them. He grabbed them and stubbed out his cigarette in an ashtray on his way back to the bathroom. 

Buster liked Nelly for so many reasons, and to them he added the fact that she didn’t bat an eye when he returned to the room with the camera. “I hope you’re not thinking of using those photos for Snap Shots,” she said coolly, as he set the tripod up a yard from the bathtub. He opened up the camera, withdrew the bellows, and fixed it in place.

Nelly hummed, scrubbing her head with shampoo. “We’re all alone, no chaperone, can’t get our number. The world’s in slumber—let’s misbehave!” she sang. 

He laughed. “I’m trying, but it takes an age to set this damned thing up.” He screwed it on the tripod and inched it forward to adjust the focus.

“They say the spring means just one thing to little lovebirds …”

“We’re not above birds,” he countered. 

“Let’s misbehave!” they finished together, and laughed. 

“Okay, think I’ve got it just about right,” he said. He felt for the cable of the shutter release and clicked it. 

“Say, where are you going to have these developed?” she said, pausing in her lathering. “I don’t want anyone else to see them.”

He clicked the shutter again, capturing her quizzical expression and the way her raised arms lifted her bubs. “Got a darkroom of my own, honey.” There was one in the detached shed on the Villa grounds where he cut film, though he’d never used it. 

“Oh.” She resumed lathering. “That’s fine.” 

He noticed that she couldn’t pile her hair atop her head when she washed it, but rather started at the top and worked her way down to the long coil lying against her shoulder. For a minute, he didn’t click the shutter, but simply watched her add shampoo and lather, humming “Let’s Misbehave.” A feeling swam in him that had nothing to do with lust. He shook it off and said, “Look at me. Chin up.”

Nelly pursed her lips and thrust her chin at him, giving him a saucy look. He clicked the shutter. She laughed at herself in the aftermath and he clicked the shutter. She crossed her arms across the edge of the bathtub, her bubs settled across them, and his lust returned lightning-fast. 

“You’ve got great tits,” he said, wanting to see if he could get her to blush on camera. He knew she half-hated, half-loved when he used language like that with her. 

“Bus,” she admonished. As predicted, there was the blush. 

He clicked. “What about touching one of ‘em?” 

She clucked her tongue, but cupped one breast and stared at him like she couldn’t wait to be fucked. His pulse was starting to thud in his ears. He straightened from his crouch and moved the tripod closer. Nelly gathered her hair in a bunch at the crown of her head and thrust her chest at him, smiling. It was a beautiful pose. “Now I’ve got to do the part that takes forever, rinsing.”

Buster peeked out from behind the camera. “You could rinse out in the shower.”

“If I do, will I have company?” She leaned forward on the tub again, her bubs so full and inviting he could practically feel them in his mouth. 

He nodded, his throat dry again, and stood so he could start the shower. When he announced the temperature was right, Nelly scurried, dripping, across the floor and into the metal cage. She flung her head back and the white shampoo foam sluiced down her hair and into the drain. Buster shed his robe and bathing suit and stepped into the shower, and she wound her arms around his neck and kissed him, slipping her tongue into his mouth. She was soft, warm, and slippery and he wanted nothing more than to make love to her again, but he intended to keep his promise about the prophylactics.

When her hair was rinsed and the water ran clear, he lowered himself to his knees. He always treasured the look that came into her eyes when she realized what he was about to do. She was slick and he pressed a finger into her as he swirled and flicked his tongue. It no longer took him very much time at all to make her come. On cue, she quickly began to writhe. If he could snap a photo of them doing this, he would.

She almost drowned him when she came, clutching his head against her and making the water flood into his face at an uncomfortable angle, but he didn’t care. He licked her until she pushed him away. 

“I want you,” she said with a whimper, when he rose again. 

The beast in him agreed, wanted to take her right then and there. He growled against her neck and rubbed himself on her. “Not without a thin,” he said, trying to be sensible. He also didn’t know if he could manage the angle. “You could kiss me,” he suggested, feeling breathless. 

Her eyes were heavy. She tugged at his prick. “Here?” 

“Mmm-hmm,” he said, his heartbeat drubbing in his ears. 

She sank to her knees. He watched her hollow her mouth over him, the fringe of her eyelashes downcast, hair fanned down her back and over her shoulders. His hand went to her hair and his eyes closed without him even knowing it. He endured the sweet torture of the silk heat of her mouth for all of two minutes before his climax roared up on him and he was a goner. Nelly kept him in her mouth and by the time he opened his eyes again, he wasn’t sure whether she had spat or swallowed. 

“That enough misbehaving for you?” she said, standing with a groan. 

He nodded, feeling weak and leaning back into the spray of the shower. 

They shared the soap and washed up. He found towels for them in the linen cabinet. Nelly twined her hair up in one and knotted the other between her breasts. She aimed the tripod at him as he toweled his hair. “Oh no,” he said. “Not in my birthday suit.”

She ignored him and fiddled with the focus. “You’ve got some of me in my birthday suit.”

“ ‘Cause it’s your birthday next week,” he said, tying the towel around his waist in haste. 

She gaped at him. “How on earth did you remember that?”

He’d filed it away during their weekend at the cabin, although he wasn’t about to ‘fess up. She wasn’t aware yet, but he’d planned a surprise for her at next Friday’s party that she didn’t know she was attending. “They say the spring means just one thing to little lovebirds …” he said, pulling his toothbrush out of the porcelain holder in the wall. 

Nelly clicked the shutter. “Fine, don’t answer. I do want a picture though. It’s only fair. Are you going to misbehave for me or not?”

He laughed at her persistence, and turned around and loosened his towel, but draped it in front of his prick instead of losing it altogether; he wasn’t interested in looking small in the picture. He gave her the deadpan that came so natural whenever a lens was aimed at him.

She laughed. “You’re so damn somber.”

He stared at her, deadpan. 

“Okay, just one more and I’ll leave you alone.”

As soon as she’d taken the picture and stood up, he offered her a full smile. He laughed as she swatted his rear end, and handed her a spare toothbrush. Nelly sat on the end of his bed and braided her hair a few minutes later, dressed in the cotton robe again. He busied himself carrying a down bedspread onto the bed on the sleeping porch and turning down the sheets. 

“Aren’t we sleeping in here?” Nelly said with an expression of concern when he took her hand. She was probably worrying he’d take her back to Natalie’s bedroom. 

“Uh-uh.” Once they were on the porch, she relaxed. There was a nip to the night air that was going to make the down comforter just the thing. He patted the bed. “Take off your robe.” She bared herself to him again and he was reminded afresh what a good idea it had been to take a mistress. He took his off and pulled the bedspread up to their shoulders. Nelly snuggled close, smelling like coconuts. Though he’d sneaked girls into his room several times before, he’d never dared bring one onto the porch.

The state of his marriage was always nagging him, like a cut he kept bumping and reopening, but snug under the covers with Nelly with the cold breeze playing against his face, he forgot it for the time being.

Notes: I’m early this week! It may be a longer wait for Chapter 31, though--that will be a long one and a pivotal one. Please exercise patience. Soundtrack: Irving Aaroson’s “Let’s Misbehave”: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JctNtRfHRLU Pretty risque for a song from 1928!

[darkpoisonouslove]

Everything You Can't Want

Summary: Erendor blames his mistakes on his fascination with Samara, yet, winds up right back in front of her door when he needs help trapping them both in a vicious circle.

This is my fill for AO3commentoftheday's short fic challenge #6 - a scene fully without context. At least this is as without context as I can get.

CW: Nakedness and mentions of sex. Don’t get confused - this is at least as much about sex as it is about feelings.

His knuckles rasped against the wood–harder than a diamond after the pressure of months of mourning–for the third time. "Samara!"

"Come in," her voice, even like the line her lips were always pressed into nowadays, reached him through the thick wood. Anger would be preferable to the unreadable mask on her face that he had to force himself to stare at and keep his hands away from. Taking it off would instantly draw him to what lay underneath.

The door wailed upon his intrusion but he pushed through. "I know it's late. I wouldn't have come but it's important." The cold wood closed behind his back to leave no room for escape and he let his eyes find her in the prison his power couldn't free them from. "I need you..."

Water drops feel from her wet hair and trickled down her exposed flesh raising it in goosebumps against the cool air. Her breasts rose so rhythmically that it looked automatized – like there were cogs turning inside her under threat of her dropping dead. Her shapely thighs squeezed the breath out of him with the memory of them closing around his body the last time he'd brought her to orgasm – in another lifetime. Her face was free of makeup and the red was in her cheeks rather than in her lips. From the hot water, not from his intense gawking.

"Why are you naked?" And why did it shake him as hard as the tragedy he'd stuffed under his mattress to get between the two of them? He couldn't remember how long it'd been since she'd dropped all of her clothes for him. All that was filling his mind was the softness he knew her skin to be, the taste of her lips on his brain and the little gap between them he could close in a moment. If she let him. If he let himself.

"I'm just emerging from the bathroom," she reached for her hairbrush, the nonchalance itching on his skin. There was no invitation in her movements but no rejection either. She'd let him reach her but he had to make the first step and he'd grown roots outside her door.

"Why are you opening the door without any clothes on?" He rubbed his palm over his face. Her nakedness wasn't helping his tired–tempted–mind. And neither were the paranoia and possessiveness. She was doing it on purpose – pushing until he pulled but he'd stepped back from his affliction intentionally. Distraction only led to disaster.

"I didn't open the door, you did. You were going to knock it down by the time I got dressed," she locked eyes with him, daring him to lie to her face. It would be stupid to break his silence after he'd made her tolerate it for months.

"You were swimming?" Her schedule was just as busy as his but she made time for the pool while he'd avoided it with the same resolve with which he'd avoided her bedchamber. She would have made the time to go to his chamber if he'd asked her to. He just couldn't stand the sight of her in his space without touching her, without pulling her in his arms and he was already holding a million ghosts there. There was no more room for mistakes but even that would slip from his mind the minute her breath replaced his in his lungs.

"It's become an evening routine." She was in no hurry as she brushed her hair, not letting his presence disrupt her process. If only he could say the same. He wouldn't have to stay away from her.

"Was this the plan?" he crossed his arms. She hadn't tried to seduce him before but she hadn't had a reason to do it. He'd been the one asking her in his bed.

Samara stilled, the motionlessness grotesque on her in the short period she allowed it on display. She left her hairbrush on her vanity. "First of all, I didn't know you would visit." Of course not. But how was he supposed to admit his weakness after the devastation it had brought? "And second of all, if I had hidden intentions, you would be the one naked and in my bed." Nothing to argue with there either. "What did you need?"

Erendor opened his mouth before closing it again. She was offering him all of herself right then and there and he couldn't need her. Couldn't afford to be anything less than self-sufficient and faultless. "Will you put some clothes on?"

"If you don't need me naked, I have no reason to be."

She gave him a moment and he wasted it. She walked into her closet to fetch herself an outfit and left him alone again. She was the only one that had the power to keep him from stepping astray but it wouldn't be enough if he didn't keep her at a distance. Her crown was smaller than his.

She emerged from the closet, a pink silk nightgown with straps hugging her curves now instead of him. Her damp hair was luring him to run his fingers through it so that it would soothe the heat of his skin.

He swallowed. "I need your help." That was all he could ask of her no matter how much he wanted her in his bed. Because of that.

"Of course, Erendor. Even though I don't know if that will be enough." Her lips remained parted – for his breath to sneak in. But he didn't have any left.