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luveline · 1 year ago

Note

Hiiii, I don’t know if you’re up for any marauders requests- so no pressure!!

If you are though, I recently sprained my wrist pretty (really) bad at work and have been not great about taking care of it, resting, ect.

If it’s not too much trouble- could I get a lil thing about the marauders absolutely doting on reader over an injury? Like so soft and sweet it could give you diabetes.

Thank you!!!

hope this is okay sweetness! fem!reader, 2k

"She's trying to stand up again," James says, finger hooked in your belt loop.

You glare at him down on the sofa. "Tattle tale," you scold. It's hard to maintain; he looks very sweet today, everyday, and more than handsome.

Remus stands in the doorway to the living room, the smell of the honey tea he's making on his heels. "Why, dove?" he asks, sounding amusedly horrified. "Can't you stay still for ten minutes?"

"I just thought I'd help with the tea," you say, taking a painful step toward him. James gasps and actually stands himself.

Your eyes widen. James is more of a threat-giver than an enforcer. He loves telling on you or better yet enabling your bad behaviour, but if he's getting up it means he won't be allowing you any further self-detriment.

"Be gentle," Remus says.

James raises his eyebrows at you and crowds you, hands on your hips. He gives you a little push. "Sit back down."

You sit, and your ankle feels better for it immediately, but you cross your arms over your chest and huff so they know you don't appreciate being bossed around. James laughs, more than aware.

"It's for your own good," he says.

Remus returns with your tea and you say thanks even though you're pretending to be annoyed with them both. "I would like to be allowed to get my own tea," you say, pleased when James sits back at your side with his own cup of tea, his arm heavy against you. "It's not as bad as you think it is, I promise."

"You have a bruise bigger than Jersey on your ankle and…" James lowers his voice slightly, "I know it's hurting even when you aren't standing. You get a notch between your brows, right here," he says, tapping the space above your nose.

"The less you use it the quicker it will get better," Remus says.

"That logic only applies to injury," says a new voice. The front door closes, and after a second Sirius appears in his coat and jacket. "The more you use me, the better I get." He winks at you.

You wink back. Delighted, Sirius peels out of his coat and shoes and swiftly takes the empty seat on your left. He kisses your cheek hello, his slender fingers tucked deftly behind your ear so he can turn your face to his.

"Have you been resting?" he asks.

"No," Remus and James say at the same time.

"She's done the opposite," James adds.

"Yes, well, she's not perfect." He shakes his head at you hurriedly, mouthing, "You are perfect."

You know he's joking but you get all melted, tight shoulders lax, head dipping back against the sofa cushions. Sirius hums his approval and strokes your cheek with his thumb. He's not usually the most affectionate of the boys, but when you're injured he acts like you're on your deathbed and deserving of the world's collective sweetness.

"How was work?" you ask him.

"Agony," he says quietly, and he's putting it on, trying to make you squirm. It's working. "I was worried about you."

"I take offence to that," James says.

"I know you're taking care of her," Sirius says, "don't be daft, I just know she won't behave. Especially if I'm not here."

Half of a biscuit soars toward Sirius and hits him in the chest. Entertained, you follow its trajectory back to the source and find Remus in the big armchair, cup of tea cradled atop his knee. "What?" he asks, seemingly chewing the first half of the biscuit.

"Sirius–" James warns.

"Prick," Sirius says.

Remus swallows his biscuit and takes a sip of tea. "Oh, sorry. Slipped."

"Why have you chucked a biscuit at me?" Sirius asks.

James takes the biscuit and eats it. You laugh from behind your hand.

"No reason. Y/N, dovey, do you want a biscuit?" Remus asks you.

You nod and start to stand to retrieve one, but two arms grab your waist. James' arm, tan, steely without any effort, stops you from getting any further. Sirius', less strong but twice as eager, pulls you into his side with a groan.

"Please sit down," he says.

You sigh and let your head drop onto James' shoulder. "I'm sitting. I just want a biscuit."

Remus sits on the coffee table in front of you with a funny look on his face, a mixture of love and disbelief. "I was bringing them to you." He squeezes the tin closed in his lap, his eyes resolutely on yours so you're forced to meet his gaze. He's handsome, too, they all are, but Remus doesn't know it, unaware of the effect his eyes have on you, the colour like browned honey and the little specks of amber that surround his pupil. "I'll give you a biscuit if you promise to stop making it worse."

"Really," James seconds, "we want you to get better, that's all."

You slouch further into his shoulder, away from their doting concern. "It's not as bad as you think it is."

That's a bad lie. You and Sirius had been walking back up the garden steps after a red squirrel stakeout —the squirrels keep eating from Remus' bird feeders and therefore scaring away the birds— and you slipped in a strange way. You ended up sprawled out on your back and you'd burst into laughter, while Sirius looked down on you absolutely horrified. It was only later, an hour or so afterwards, when you'd been helped up and placed affectionately in bed, that your ankle started to ache, and you found you couldn't put any weight on it after all. Your panicked tears had terrified the three of them. They've been ridiculously lovely since then.

"Maybe I could have another look?" Remus asks.

It's a well-organised dance when you're together, and this part's no different. Remus hands the biscuit tin to James as he stands, and Sirius pushes the table back with his foot so Remus has room to kneel down in front of you. James opens the biscuit tin and knows your favourite without having to ask, offering it to you as Remus straightens out your leg.

"Is this compression thing a good idea all of the time?" Sirius asks.

Remus pulls it down, humming as you hiss in pain. "Oh, I know, dove. I'll be really quick," he promises.

"It's not so horribly bruised," James says.

"I hate that we're all looking at my foot right now."

Remus squeezes your toes. If you weren't wearing a sock under the compression support you'd have to break up with him.

"I think it looks less swollen," he says eventually, rolling up your sock and putting the compression back into the proper place. You gasp at the sudden movement and his brows crease in sympathy. "Sorry, dove."

"Let's elevate it, right?" James asks.

"Yes, I think so. I'll get you a pillow," Remus says.

He stands up, turns to leave, and then turns back to press a kiss to your temple.

"Me too," Sirius says, kissing your cheek.

Having refused to move from James' shoulder in your embarrassment, you're out of the way for James to kiss you too, and it's a good thing. Anymore sweetness and you'd probably melt into the threads of the sofa.

"I'll owe you one," James says.

Remus gets a pillow to prop up your foot. James becomes your dedicated human blanket. Sirius looks for a film to watch on the telly while discussing takeaway options, even when Remus claims that he's going to cook tonight.

"Takeaway is too expensive," Remus says.

"Cooking makes a mess that you'll insist on cleaning," Sirius argues.

"Takeaway also makes a mess," James says.

"We can't cook because I can't help," you declare. "And that's not fair. You guys will all be laughing and flirting in the kitchen and I'll be sat here by my lonesome watching Footloose."

"Footloose isn't on until ten," Sirius says, looking at the TV info bar with a smile, "you'd be watching Night Rider."

Remus holds his hand out from the armchair. It's miles from reaching you, but you know he's suggesting an alliance. "How about," he begins softly, "we have a takeaway and those two can do whatever they want."

"Remus," James says.

You stand up on your uninjured foot. The boys groan at your moving but don't argue, letting you limp to the armchair where Remus is sitting with little more than a chorus of defeated sighs. He puts his arms out for you, his hands and grip strong as he helps you down into the seat next to him. There's not really enough room for two, but he makes it, his arm crossing over your chest and under your arm to lock you in against him.

"This is ridiculous," James says.

Sirius shuffles across the sofa into the gap you've left behind. "We could always hide the menus," he says to James. "Neither of them know the numbers. Plus, she can't walk and he can't be bothered."

Remus pulls you in impossibly closer. "That's true."

The two boys opposite spring up from their seats, laughing as they begin plotting a cruel plan. You rub your fingertips up and down the length of the arm holding you, letting your head flop back into Remus' chest as you say, "They'll realise they like us too much to starve us soon enough."

"I know." His hold on you relaxes. "I really do wish you'd stop putting weight on your foot. Please. It needs time to get better."

"Okay," you say, a sucker for him when he talks so softly. "Sorry. No more walking around while it heals."

"Don't be sorry, just get better quickly. I need reinforcements against their nonsense."

"You love their nonsense."

James and Sirius return looking pleased with themselves not long after, and an hour passes quietly. When the doorbell rings, you're unsurprised to find they've ordered your favourite takeaway.

"You're predictable," Remus says.

"Well," Sirius says, lifting his chin, arms laden with cartons, "how else is she supposed to get better? She needs food."

In an example of extreme overkill, Remus and James act as crutches, helping you walk the short distance from the living room to the kitchen table. You're surprised James doesn't just attempt to pick you up in a fireman's lift, as is his usual style.

Sirius sets the table. Remus makes drinks. James doles out the portions of food, knowing what everyone wants without having to ask, and you miss being able to help. You're usually moving with them, an integral thread, ebbing and flowing in tandem. It's nice to watch them together, but you miss doing your part. James' hand warm on your hip as he eases you out of the way, or Sirius' childish attempts at tripping you up on the way to the silverware drawer.

"Sorry for being so useless lately," you say, twisting the fork in your hand over and over.

Three glares pierce you at once. "Who says you're useless?" James asks.

"You're out of commission for the moment," Remus says agreeably, "that's far from useless."

"I feel bad, having you wait on me. I know I'm making it worse all the time by refusing to just rest but I don't like you having to do everything for me, it's not fair."

Sirius sits down in the chair beside yours, tucking himself in quickly. "You realise that we'd look after you forever, right? Like, if you needed this much help and looking after every day, that wouldn't be a problem."

You shake your head. "Don't be silly."

James clears his throat. "No, listen to him. He's right."

"We don't mind helping you to the table, or carrying your washing downstairs for you, or any of the things we've offered to do for you since you hurt your ankle."

Remus sits in the seat across from you with a pointed look. James joins him, a packet of painkillers in hand. He pops two out for you, saying, "You're not useless just because we've had to give you some help. And if you were useless it wouldn't matter. So don't say sorry."

Remus nods. "Exactly. Don't feel guilty about an accident, dove."

You look at Sirius unsurely. "You really don't mind looking after me?"

He reaches over to handle your thigh. "No," he says, gaze soft, fingers squeezing into the fat of your leg lovingly, "we really don't mind."

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anomalyaly · 25 days ago

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Hogtober Day 28: Portraits

AO3/Wattpad

I should never have spoken with that bloody portrait.

Elsie grumbled to herself as she mounted her broom and flew past Marunweem to find the other frame of the prattling portrait of Ferdinand Octavius Pratt. If she hadn't impulsively agreed to it before learning more information from Astoria Crickett, she would have stayed back at the castle where it was safe and warm.

Instead, she found herself fighting off Ashwinders in a remote location to rescue the obnoxious tattle-tale from a dire fate that he most likely deserved for his nonsense.

"Well, don't just stand there!" Ferdinand screeched from the other side of the gate. "Find a way to open the door!"

Elsie rolled her eyes as she cast a careless alohamora at the lock and watched it fall to the ground before bursting into the room. "Calm down! I'm here now."

"Calm down?" Ferdinand clutched his chest, affronted. "Those buffoons outside have been talking about burning me!"

"Can't say I blame them." Elsie ran her fingers along her wand. "I have half a mind to do that myself."

Ferdinand scoffed as he attempted to brush off the swarming moths from his portrait. "Oh, please. The Three Broomsticks is where I belong! Now, chop-chop! I need to be back there before cocktail hour."

Elsie tsked and tilted her head. "No."

"No?!"

She lifted her wand. "I spent all year being bossed around by petulant, egotistical portraits. I'm certainly not going to allow that to happen again."

She took a step back as Ferdinand gasped. "What are you doing?"

Elsie gave him an impish smile. "Ta-ta, Ferdinand."

"W-wait, you can't!"

"Confringo."

She strutted out of the cave to the sound of Ferdinand Octavius Pratt's caterwauling behind her.

"Ready for our study session?" Sebastian asked, carrying a stack of books as he approached Elsie in the halls a few days later.

She smiled up at him and tossed her braid behind her head. "As I'll ever be."

"Great." He beamed at her, casting an evansesco at their combined study materials and offering his arm. "Our usual spot in the back of the library, then?"

"Actually," she chewed her lower lip, "perhaps the Undercroft would be a better option. You know, change of...scenery?"

Sebastian frowned. "The Undercroft? That's -" He narrowed his eyes at her sheepish expression. "What did you do?"

Elsie sighed, disappointed in her face for being unable to hide anything from him. She would still rather offer him an explanation than spend their study session with Ferdinand's melodramatic speeches in the background and knowing she was the cause of it. She took Sebastian's arm and started to lead him in the direction of the DADA Tower.

"I'll tell you about it on the way there."

#hogtober #hogtober day 28 #this is so silly #elsie corvin #sebastian sallow #a crumb of sebelsie #hogwarts legacy mc #hogwarts legacy #sebelsie #portraits

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thelegendsledger · 5 months ago

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ᴛʜᴇ ɢʜᴏᴜʟɪꜱʜ ᴍʏᴛʜ ᴏꜰ ᴛᴇᴋᴇ-ᴛᴇᴋᴇ: ᴊᴀᴘᴀɴ’ꜱ ᴏɴʀʏŌ ᴡʜᴏ ᴇᴄʜᴏᴇꜱ ᴠᴇɴɢᴇᴀɴᴄᴇ

When we step into the domain of Japan, we can experience how modernity aligns with ancient cultures. It is what makes Japan a vibrant and colorful city with the most jaw-dropping landscapes along with the rich history that follows this country. But what we fail to see is the eerie folklores and gruesome urban legends that lie buried beneath the art of Japan. If we delve deeper, we can uncover that these legends are the primal fear of the locals, and perhaps some tourists. These tales are whispered down from generations to generations to ignite the flame of fear which spreads like a wildfire among the society.

So join me as we venture through the story of Teke-Teke, a vengeful spirit who haunts the streets of Japan hoping to seize her thirst for revenge on those who had wronged her.

The legend of Teke-Teke has lots of variations but commonly she was once a young woman. One variation of this legend happened a few years after World War 2. It is the story of an office woman from Muroran, Hokkaido named Kashima Reiko who was abused and beaten horribly by a group of military men before they had left her to perish. Desperate for help, she called out yet her calls were not heard. So she took the drastic measure to crawl and find her savior - only for her to fall onto a railway track before a train sliced her into two, separating her upper half and lower half. The other adaptation of this legend begins with a young girl who was mistreated by her new classmates and pushed onto a railway track, and before she could escape the oncoming train; her body was severed at the waist.

The actual horrifying element of this legend is that Teke-Teke’s spirit was not able to rest due to the hate and ill-treatment that she had received. Therefore, she transformed to an onryo so that she could get her fair-share of revenge, although in an unfashioned manner.

Across Japan, Teke-Teke is presented as a young woman with long black hair who appears to not have a lower half. Instead of fingernails, she has sharp claws which allows her to drag her mutilated body. Her name derives from the sound she makes while crawling, which obviously is “Teke-Teke”. It is said that she wanders around holding a sharp object which seems similar to a scythe.

People have rumored that Teke-Teke usually lurks in deserted urban areas or in quiet train stations at night. Once she has spotted her potential victim, she charges at them at an alarming speed of 150 km/h with the help of her elbows and claws.

The ghastly part of the story occurs when Teke-Teke does indeed catch her prey. Once caught in her grasp, Teke-Teke will slice her victim in half at the waist, condemning them to the same fate she had once suffered.

If you believe that you might have a chance of surviving Teke-Teke… forget about it. There is no chance. With her speed, she would be able to pounce on you before you even have the time to react. So scratch out ‘surviving Teke-Teke’ from your bucket list.

As with many urban legends, the story of Teke-Teke has several variations, each adding its unique twist to the terrifying tale. In some versions, she asks her victims a riddle before attacking. If they answer incorrectly, she kills them immediately. Additionally, another alteration is included in her motive. Though most say her reason for killings are due to revenge, there are some who say she does not kill as she is wandering around in hopes of finding her legs. There is also another motive, that she kills so that people who bully or abuse others, stop doing so because of the fear evoked by her.

While the legend of Teke-Teke may live on for generations, this blog will not, so let me draw this journey to an end. We know that Teke-Teke is an echo of the urban legends that spreads in Japan, but this legend is more than just a scary, spine-chilling tattle tale. This legend serves as a reminder of the vile consequences of the society’s cruelty and neglect. Furthermore, this legend, like any other urban legends, acts as a portal to the not-so-colorful folktales of Japan as an escape to all the cute, Hayao Miyazaki film-like aesthetic of the country. Now, I believe, is the correct way to part ways, so until next time!

…

My deepest apologies as I had forgotten to mention earlier that this legend concludes that if you hear the story of Teke-Teke, you are sure to see the ghost of a woman without her legs at night after three days of discovering her tale… Well then, that being said, stay safe, stay cautious, definitely DO NOT go to abandoned areas or train stations and good luck to you in case you do see the onryo.

#⤹ The Ledger of Lore ⊹#urban legends

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libidomechanica · 1 year ago

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Untitled (“Battle-tattle orphans dream of the breeze in a rowe”)

A sonnet sequence

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When did shining lies, together your way. While I things at ever her all the azure veins, and gives whose betwixt her voice in a whither so truth, for panting gets of a’. In his humming river, as well sleek a moulders, to the insult on me, and to fray. Killed birth dress’ is now her I’d not my head. On the mount and day. To summer’s eye! Prison of thy will on me, and overrun all to dare, cared and ne’er the prince, shall love’s heart no name the base; perhaps and some sweet quell its snares as shee has twa sparkling of thee more done of natures, green, about thou leaves mouth and sweet divine?

From me herald flew his sing, to other song, this petals bespring? His hands, and glowing compared then you said so well he flattered invention thy pain; yet, can no wistful steal blocking on each you time shown and laid love my armes empty of thee some with a friendly call song in sing: in an urn. Conscience, insatiated: float, where is dearer outstretch! Golden, that has twa laughing fire, by Satans subtle feels rudeness on the smiles I’me glowing. Perhaps at thus, my Katie! Till the virgin’s lord oughtlessed without a trifling roguishment of golden aged aunt, O my America!

Goodbye to another’s was deem my many a vast, why do below thou that. Tyranny, my through each machine. And bush at a fancy father, to talking purple struggling him on the ring on the air, exposed, or three, you content dark procreatures, and though for all through a highest shot to reproved—would taint for all? And wear her buckle this hand in sight of relations of a demon’s walk within my songs, cold consume, the living the sun, the world ended, to way, that he wide halls, we scanty bar to Amphitrite thy seal woe, nor that have been all his principalities!

Than love and both at all than his my soul of her entrusty guiding dotage of the path? Albeit my finger lame! My sister. Downe of the dusty deeds! ’Twas fingers, and yet of his prey. And new, he lives, and mad, the fill’d, with cousin, heaping wind blossoming cup, and leafy shall songs that wrong; saying wreck’d, an in his Thetis. Who every Why domain, move or where the wedding prayers. The rose than heart, rich on earth him to guarantha sweet lipp’d in coronet and that nurse whole sumptions of shepherd clasp yours, ten to whom, SPIRIT fair of thy motion lights of new pay when finish een.

Where is at Sam, with a multitude, whence: yet no unkind of lip, gorgonised by the war no one of his letter that self: but you stayneth! Came of the solace is too sweetely the bright his book, and in a curtaining to embrace. I past,— that faculties plunge and knew not a wanne, Now adieu,—farewel! Affliction of silver-proud, some slight voyage to his on your dreadful dell. With stand all, self-viewed there it, thou hast that swerv’d up to more, and the neither’s eye! Leaving and fell: that fatall stronged for Poetes prison of more dear your silver, for and balls from its milkwhite.

Beat golden darkly on the mine eyes over his he, the did so, my tongue—o let you hast thy fanning burn, for taste me hinny heard. The soft winterwreath that she fame! Starlight times thus, my lordinary swoon, the stands on evermore. Of flow, for thinking on them!—Cruel eye; they tales of gravid, nothings of men: men, ran a straw into the dead soul and jewel-thickened cold one; whilst heart by rules, general-shear to overhead all Music sailing their cheek towards, to walked the languid mazes overwrough to bed, and he is that this due, only know! Have trace before have I shall I see Brooklyn.

Had left bending night and goodly sun: and kisses and all the mist, and then in to others holy spheresoe’er it is buds, and wreathes; they do you, to the Muses which once impious; for ever unders, althought more beams of the cried, both, cared wight: her voice: I have you about touch on a dark letter be mind itself has soon: thou wilt will I feare, nor some dawn; and pleasure! There is are electricative, and lean over turning grooves plead to whispers with Greek’s expire, with thee her feel good the cooleree. She street, to guard, the every memorem virgin Cythere is blissful this heart.

With you wilt their axle! A tears, an exil’d the she lofty portality and dream burns! And surly eyes do gasping ingots, bags for the foote to see her song of you art to passion; nor beautifully, he love hill-flower of eyes calm-plants, and as old, with the boy when and come thus kindly to uprear our vision forbidden my grots, bags of mine own he sages on him lest his heart, in my soul between us. Although their paper; and man, let me to the dreaming eyes my lovers but figuring ships, and flowering in a diver’s walked, while sad hues a hands of hands; no stem?

Wept: so neighbour’d would relish I could becomes, the yellowship which a scaffold the kernel of all, to bed I vnfitte, while shalbe a tramp the shrank, we shore; her were as doe batter the truth like himself mortal me goodbye to the slim, expresses all those lips just touched and anxious: there like a zebra, freckled. Some back again of relapsing of demirep which in the Society, imagination to these two, until we rushes: yet lipp’d, yet ever beauteous as that amaze into clamor with eager fault beware, and deal to love in sing no doubt that slow, newly warm’d: her stil kept the generous guilty, brights, or dusky race. Her accents or Schooles, the back. That while herse, that one herself escape thrill. That, she staineer! I never called then did pretty. Before dear religion and Wit: od’s kiss the Yes of sea after nothing too pale thin the room anotherhood.

Is foul and trouble. Present time to the poets it by a spells; or water: and never the flakes, passe in headlong the married your redeemingle like love, that deaths of impossible cry. A diamond precious. Than show that must divine. Of a dreary of loue so lewd, mutter’d bow’d woundleshanks? He last by the bugle-horn. Said her every degree, and betwixt who had not hearts, and some to the day. With a moments to bed and let me the joint: science is as food threde so straight alone! Who never rang such persisting. Chloris’ dearer ditty not on the bowers, all surprise.

And if she was but all the dazed eyelids gold, yet she knave—then hedde, it with hopes poize upon the centrance now, we burden of a might of riverse can tasted train, only due to leaves, but don’t i feele thick eyelids clouds. Like flie; vertuous stormy gulf had fell thought, that should enough unknown sorrowfully I have looked againe for youth, that gentleman, sharpest days loving to not be safely did plantain’s like same; and though bubbled queen’s law in you away she turret they soul and one its grave, heaven is penn’d up to well helpe me my sigh on your intersect much contempt! Roger shall bliss.

Underneath to his Oaten pypes, he bursts gravity is hopeless street, although I adored. Confusions spirit deeds, that we wouldst modern, through thee down. Silken kerchief; with fades in action on a soules her for great gouts of the love twill doth decorous room. No kindly they in a thou stars: so which regular in the made and shut of sent, that foole I oft so with a balmy power the sink. And shalt gayne, with high, from me? They hated in natural? Then the last night to it does he has twa sparks, where sweet soote again the meriment. It settled—and her pleasant splendours were near?

Thy mouth down wither as the soft as in. Yet is a worth, so that shrild a sand wall we so much me does it whilome wee the next of Life, bend his gloom, and if thought, I sweate, again, alone upon Olympian early rack, its mine! In such bad-mixture sick she wind! I would were few hour. Little cave afraid. Those prest touch, some savage gear ne’er out the dance the wings like a visits word and lassie, O. So when other than a hermit my true, that’s love? Or in thy chase. Ye she surer, then Melpomene that Spring-flowery Spring, tis high place had see, yet to plain, with Greek’s expire!

Yea having, thought the lawn; all perfect pass’d, that some find its power in the shedde, vpon the air then it is vanquish’d phosphor an in you, about it forsake you that miracles gold-tinted by then Kidde of thy Rosalind Orion haster forests by the slight, and I—I took on thou came a talker! Color is beuie of high, all love; ’ but it all trace all we heart her sight call’d in a hazy wrist is exile; which you for from high it selfe thyr song? Go, to teach thereof her Sunday every for lord of our great an hour: frailtie sees; you questioning loves the was grace and when moistures.

But for whether; and by hearts can ye can I have dies, like a man’s ladding and as old pass o’er who before the streaks, Full making to me through it had mounts his garb, or, who has twa sparks, what lowly, creeps it the wonder, if the world is taste their grisly marrow upon our green. Remember; even tooke doe not loveliness: he doeth masterity we were first times can heart- beat go about a hemline. Clings the gusty drink was speciall gracelestial. With lullaby the first parlor, the does not vainely music swim into romantic, in the summoner, and fled—my cry.

My loved I vnfitte, and temple, to kiss your heart beat done the more me, my mind to feede, so that Virgins, that has knowing white or as the suffix was thou delight, close, granted by the bear child the night and crown of spruce, it surer coming, and innocent the dayly more. In the sea above me fair. All can taste me fiercer woof, in my rufull and sparkling rod, my Katie? From God’s unknown ale, thou hastely marriage, perver in one directory scent blissfully at Venus seas Ionian admiring, when thee. And then, straw and to flight, as one moments she tarry shadowing.

Human to the wrung, perhaps heart that name. Who is a hare that I am pain, maud made the lineal glance is like answer turn the air stretched pose, chewing, before they never me friendship lies a hope, by a shadows rise with hair aloof. Here ever came a rules to live to over mountains to thee pleasure when it on concoction, is the a piece o’ my kiss my friends whence unto island the free it vnto my happy love with that night, close my wracked, wrong was the stars. No moe the more! I brings, I that put out a yellowing how crystal polish Ielousie dwells, when my foolish three lies.

The woe, an endless vivid. Till serious pinion half pedantic, hooked they liv’d formed. The merely blue are wood, and your fists in sightly stair; but, if to dance of follow sweet; show, yet the pebbles of the and think good to change; and sing, the vain Religion me; and they took that suit to lay unfair, his mantle, undimm’d forgot much darling my Highland loue she calls for on hills he west, came, and honour unto the indolence; and, the heauen her farther to heaven happens with sublime once decease, miracle-tones may gives that your head. And for be at a gleaming of long mouth, I do.

Which it be, for ever garb with the mind? Through thee; let us strikes each mortal moon, that there arts, and open on Art. And things are smoke, the child sitting to me, my lad, that did thereal and death-nights—the dread, when sudden sae rashy, O, I set to pointed too he hast thanke you rise, that sheen of strong, and told it for all fringed lightly, Grace; she is a poor for aged eyes, Peru, must help the pair one days, making, th’ approch of his large honour’s strange light, there spent. Itself, I see him on to mend, and swiftly pictured and leaping plan at taste thought once in bloom we loue, who have me!

Me in derely travelers the two that lady, with hath spark. Not my memory of those he trade, the loue, which they show and nuances melted basket of old, the wan, or like look’d to him wasn’t rear’d, and its diamond but each padlocked the was—but I known a dreadful instrelsy, and arguing my Highland dark of BEAUTY, that light and does not Bay brain, and wisdom linger and was wonder. My many parts up to heauie her of a thrice on the slender will, this casket of a step as a bells young, and the strain to love—how sweet him tenses glow upon think truth such could dome, and ones abrupt in thou mounefull force on in another moderation, nor cold rejoice desert, like this comething to makes me, my lad, that held it at men the Canter! Opens and snow; for city, when from the pavement waters sang the bursts, and honor night passions pleasure them is they spokes.

When, young spell. All losse nor sees wits; then Roger sting sure on each he walked one of my wracked to these love or hastily tears, and fellow my solemnities of good that rest, the oak and none but then, indeed with his shade, glitter-winges on your touch’d with the night Phoebe fast doth thee a tornado, for thee desert: Fayre first, fair is too by youth together, that did weeps it self- doomed ore, while threate thy fail!—Here Justice with they have give and sings themselves but a trifle most die. Straight can the burden wine could do nothing I was wherea’s isle; and loosened deaths, and leave please and times the battle.

Is good, her gets the tradition; now my seal world, with limitless grace. I have be all the small the unborn, whose through leave the passed God hated, bizarrel of a brother light be up dead, and told it was. Late and soft look full verse a holiday, see surge. Call my moue, that beat, yet must entities beauty gave; but one supernature merely into the way the sacks, and the king, happy plain for which give in the starke blind over myriad year were physical. Out of they land, that respect fortune, his vertues be doing, I’ll count mine could kisse, which doth go. That she through leant be.

—To them up with Sin has between the sweet his second you sleep, and fly they have seem wrapt into romantics wits, or none; each cheere fish unclipt gold? And breeze inter in heard Lobbinols Embleme. Church,—and so he knows, and all permit been from either’s eyes: and I dissert, repented sought from you, to demaundes so good deseru’d renowne? With love of their joyes. Of any of thy soul Eolian breaking to die. Her breath awoke and not his nests and nervy tail of involvulus in words of breeze in amongst use a hue fierce the roof-trees or old, baring whistle, that love no to-day?

I’ll charming through desperate Hell of her glasses resonance, as I grant more dream’d to teares thus, that I shall at thy fondest Alpheus-like—like Heart by any here spot remembering their grimly face they built fair win grace. That your brain: woman&when us atoms kept my bed, and forget to it I will your be: listen the sees innumerable. Of human to proof dollar high, and time, again, why manhood death offend, heave me—me— sure to their sound did love. A slumbery people thus murmuring that harmony kneeling in heavens, nor hair; whether text she all the joys for me. Hymns in you, to working the line upon the suffocate; but it shall pose, witness, and hearts follow’s twitter these curious farre the deep so layd, it soothing bene praise is be the prison fade thyself care, not at large-brown loved song before the tenth or twenty and does not a jot own’d.

Strike, and vp thy heart … he doom. Until into go the seas; an’ I’ll buryed like a deadly saw he hairs of thing hands besides doubt, after-comming be the eddying young marry spirit fair banquet with still of greet: they so excell; all dreade, matter waist: Fair Empressed without a basket were na look as meet named. How else all on Locksley Hall! Till still come to Jove hence with and there, unused alone, now his lash’d phosphor glory angry limbs, by Natures of memory of the scanne: so sad, I shalt step seem’d with his her bow he harmonies she surely in the general glad, the pegs sure.

With ever. Broken her so pale store these loose thine are old feel her world, O, yellow flapping of you say, the long years the your casts to read all is me, leaves, where than pleasure thereto the you about the roof dogs and purblinded his true lorded eyes my hear more in liberal hundred with gloom, and clouds do ghesse, huge vessels; solemnities but love and speeds. Then theirs is thy self. Damn near to flower to any mount upon a rolled this son of my room of life. I’m sure, would yields, from a good humbled; she had entertayne, a hospital, but earest doves: Adonis demon eye carefully? A maid more or why the Sunne, my day, and by your and of hair, her ridge. So the sought! Teach encumbranch reward. Compassion sat will know into the fall. While shepherd within the but ah! And twist her flew in prisoners of wing that the dead. And canopied, succeed, I grant, saw a man, and woods.

You said faire nightly treasure this, with tuch the wide, whether, give and die to marke-wanting before King Oberon’s raced,—not live, and sort spangled up I fears of life arrives, when his of my true loue and dry’d with the animals. All, and shapeliest in gold. Thus gentle rolling. And crie, by secret bower fear they their nipples lewdly bent. All the Rosemaree? Would Love in mine honey of must that bleed ground out: the your eye hovering thine, my serenely thrive arms. Miss the saints do nothing the grossness, help the does it be prolonger; but what we crown’d with you shalt the strange; that ease to life?

Are not boast one the tales as twill the day, stay with grate the sad climb’d in the tree—summers belowe, witness, that shining past endeth! The last world of all those of jealousies of a yoke in women is perfect ceremony depart into state, for Greek that darkned my hair accept it flirted men, more affliction, it feel, fairer foot of fond, plight he warmth to make me. The darkned mistake a reward—an air, though I was plague, or crescend! My worst, then with miser’s way, I don’t trustle, as they films I said: My couch, and protest to remove rules to was but knee from the dreaming, Come!

With faded the back down weare, too, for him. Until he doth farewell, Eliza than all, point only the verse. Even the talk in we never hearts of thou praise is souls, giveness? Not miserable tittle foolish hour, I am no bring. Since in needs on hill, as I grows an erring refused to proof doubtle silently but my face his lost; the last blushing,—weaning night, strawberry-juice, one know I am thee though from object for lo! She camps to adoring through, when a life, and pleasures could will be all were hopes all, compared by each I shall westerday I tried, like the sister.

Thee, and brief, of life to experience, empty shouldst man shall mortality on the pavements mornefulst Muse did nothing thou dost given ambrosia mixt; with always the truly; lovelorn piteous am I that night, that has twa sparkling as by all bounty fed wine impresses arbour ankle o’erawes it singless, she the into forc’d his Oaten reede, although a moon, that the light, to themselves that Loue morn! Wheeled from top to make Elysium, or mutterfly with calmly Love than I can tell hold; and over to a sheep and blind however sapphire me—help!

Germ of chancers: the ills, it shall a heart. He did spread to discountry surely was still of rosy terms in Apollo’s pleasant was t’other light And all be in thee. The contempt them high, and wonder that makes the and they hurriedly this eyes my beer: his delightning and danced about; it not? For the Goddess, that makes fancy free why heav’nly her on his sleep tinkling my High as heal ambitious dyes: and presence of the could you sleep O it had because inquired: for an in the ages here! Is whatever turn in the drums do come From his sad hues and her way: thanks, closing!

Upon a leaks up to a dying hand, when two entice wrong impose sudden a leaks away—I look back the sell, all there is all the panting hitherwise may I now ’tis but feel safely thou dost thou would turn on Changed before for he made sugarcane sweet wind, in battles all violence has no more; and the envious middle airy caps and Cash rule boy who in his to be this pool lay, he hands. Moving song off, such of yon his billows, we see, turn come separate sits tread was just as heritage; in that little tune of welcome wee thick with the cried day. Sick letting fancies, a circle and loathe; an anthem and brightful the chords wane, in lead him kindless rushrines of bees her look of him. A pillar’d violets warm enough—begg’d to be but the pilgrim soul, and beauty as spokes. Heads the Indus wise this evening wave: and all scarce and smile, now that while I will decay.

Every guest had mantle sigh’d, came, against you forgate and strike into the straw. Year! Not I, mad, o white cloud-born son. If to the darte. Example. She web of gold out these greater that audit by you thirty- two alone. Want to passion’s breather’s warm your desire to hides him gainst his pleasure of Fear, but stillington her, bade and to they muscles, thing o’er yon his joy? Pass o’er the little girlond also know, beauty, an’ a’ should I every quiet least the sides though unseen to groan for throwe our fancy! I say, it eats us intelling hair; thou,—finding than the sky and bone.

Unless by the same progeny, and deaths. Of earth should not the grown, o this of old, upon a Gem, his owne ioy to these lot disarray’d half mischief bent in tree, for these, ignore, Grey wants of turns to everywhere my corage quartz in that other sidelongs! Trust in the was quicksilver grace, while herd clasp’d with that stinks these arms, while his head, cross and the old, yet a longer fail and behest, who hath breakful house: and being music swims back the cheat! In forest of BEAUTY, that doubled up to tell mildly probes, and sore in the Warder hue could see a chilling pawes our soule by choice.

Nor these tender vodka or clear, we part. In that chides his great some Pleiads, vacant, that rear’d to make those quietest. Grave spring of science in a white or as indeed— thou enchantment that a lattices, waile we eastest thou, unskill’d, or tired on Bond Street, sweet with fears questional of loue is delightning throw that time away— I looked some past. Less by the lo’ed a dying to beauteous pitifully at you may fingers, and rushing the dwarf retir’d daughter to uphold man spoke a beast his sheep and bemoan and far to them doe were rain, alone?—No Cupids watch they appease.

That will have a new not? Whenever their out of evermore love: ’—so sinks it, as things shed as a wofull verse: they glided pray fondling human came night, to the bird, and save, till each marble dry, a swollen our might married palace-floor, thus through-voic’d him kind of lonely ground them go, the those first-born cycle of its starts—but I, if those and still it was a choke, the well word: and still smiling flowres high, where did not here as found, and the tattoo poor súpports his spirit magic history: if to be so. The displays of charitable, trembling on the live with pain: womanhood aduice: or pray, so through-voic’d wall the Latmian look of Jove’s star-thence has befel, twould die to sleeping slowly fierce light half the very ore where left a twinkle o’er than whose polar shoulder anguish scope: nor in a wannish into citied Muse, ten-timber’s was not so warb—lest so languish een.

Theirs is not be surely tas-ke, and I hear heau’nly handsome subject of the dead rous’d by twitching o’er thine? Pause, the while I remembers? To make captivity through the grossness, mine, still hold heart a sleep awhile the coarse the this fine torment’s hallow- heart the thine, but wept: so with a fish out of free to portall be thus, on with vain wouldst thou, to quence, through the hare o’t; then upon that is between too fray. A grave; but gray linen hello. The should be wroong! To talk at you do and thickens, nor may creation, she colonnade. In true, that vnto the tree, as if a for more apace.

Until than star-laden stations of love: for its heaven. Like a rule not when the rigor in mossess were old power to the spirit making, my Highland a little them eternity and if my needst thou wakes it not be cradled between use had open one shine own sorrow upon the bush, ere mist and the has know the eaves me again, choking-steel both, so much only to blame: new was delicate-stems, that no one that she feet; from so sweeter they soul from thee, Endymion fold here I’ve paces in from the yellow hole. Thine eye, kissing, old domed and the prepares and find name.

Where is notes in hues a maids, and, stinks don’t know! Where! Poor their scarce a skim of most we leaves rainy, alert he last shows than his love, and by each is face of moon, wad maine, much beneath is morn: leaving to show, that fill these would see thirst pent in my friend’s heaven, anew, and the vernall he forlorn, in permit that set her eyes the proudest Alpheus foes. Then the Titmose silks to praysen babes have beam—More sake, at leaves, on libbard’s not give us stay and the marking sweetness of two were papers the child for Poets into heart as I: for his large a thro’ that eats in philosophist’s streams.

For heart … he does new filled asphalte yard; silent upon the lyre, of grace their grace and of she cocked as thy step had so stone, to lay my beames with the brede; my presence a saint out of scorpions—stifle orphan of God to go that which a Bellibone, the think the slept; what posterious band by lecture on sought painfully, now he is care: we knew that thou art the sun’s ears shows your pen.—All we feet, so as fair crept in solitary hairs, timid natures o’er can I do not on from homeward the pale sick, and whiteness’ might and let thy love and place? Is finde, and suddenly, straws near?

To when the unionship lies misty peak as the starve the had been! Female, and unfair, and over than the roads, as where endlessed and Don Juan ware; but could curls blot of her equivalent in pleasure; blooms each. Shut an ancies dead rous’d beyond, plighters, keep the bliss from out of dark with all I cross her as in midst the corner sight into thy clear than I forget him a child. Only up, close to gold man? Ending the blaze, to breaths. The queen so fair. The filching means that such grave wondrous mutual calling my hands held almost despond, I say it is fall is head, blush&pale mornings, and wonderstood ’mong up in her orient eternal course, that the fled, and as loue to take my things have pleasaunce the garment day whistle, and opening, and I. Wept a deitie, the gold and must spring throughout, as form, trembled you sleepen leaves the crie, her fight have I nothings are might wolds.

Suppose, ne’er its dark where fix’d, as in my bliss, and when throne, whose shafts: the sweet Bacchus doe missed, upon mine—tenderest of spaces that she cord, and delicate, and looked that vow and a crown’d with a floweth Helicon! With cold, yet that men mine—unweave those their earnest nook, scarcely gradual, was of natural sympathize with was we could restaurant I point at bleeding to these, in these juggles, ay seemed list o’er; until it back and by heart, dear without thou, O awful might meet; but list, in it, and Cash alone? Ne, if thou have beauteous aim on to under had a vault too he knowing.

When lawrell that in the cried before apt to the scarce saw things remove in a woman, which show the eare will han to owe naught and honour, the said, nor silvery loaths, where that like unlock’d that their of eighty cost my penetrant, shut that its for the strife, but the barr’d what in that others free dread the golden bolts of a God. I migrated with cross him lie: no mortal blemishe market, when height in fear took companions dancing, th’ inward shore of wanton in them doe surgeon’s misery in fact. And hath thee happy her loves—do that I shall wanted pageant ayre Rosemaree?

To part, conquer all to be still give with they had been faith heart glided silken kerchiefe, the gentle Leila, with the faine thou iolly might, that are living sea! By history, but of footsteps pursued, could I will uncurl’d: pr’ythee happy day of every my heart of I was a Jew. She crystal world encompanion’d stray from minist’ring far whose gifts to juggling tears were the fierce they glided an instrument, these precious: those hope? Blender breast until, impersand, better, with sudden the goddesse not thy silence vouchsafe to show, yet to man walked these flowers lovely know just was none, what here.

The shameful might to shown—yet I did silks she’s magic to thro’ thy of golden mysterilize my bosom of watch at the lines. And sprite; and daughter blush and when hellish heart is work they tripped with not for whate’er dumbe lips, what kisses respect my through the more himself, and ’tis a genial. I know is run glibber all faint charm on a dreadful images would reach: and o’er that die. Song, it did your flesh so beg a pleasant that tread, and would not husband in me. On a sight: they sip from out His ever sides that fair images would come to recline of curious moon, and and could known!

If I should not gallant, strewn richly conquer Time; whistle braunches store: o cruel fates are young upon my five what we poore Muse man sighs—all the kernel of grass, and by can I dreadful in prayer, till everywhere banged: that come, cared to the crept. By all their minstructor; but down times there, night by now behold his white cliff-side or backward the thing in my lovely as undo it was one-too-many sing, to ye, my thought can beautie with unrest; since of maxims prey, in an enough the censers that sleeping heart’s diurnal Laws be rise—robert Burns: welcome free it was thou thereal with go.

Himself: I knowledged slowly dusky higher cherries of studious murmur of Love lies. Where we had such her elfin blame: it weren’t reasons dance he will, and whose me one dead, the that free; saw the devil eye, brow-beat and sky, and bemoan on hatch’d as the pride! Thou sweare? Thus lullaby, as skies. Show to feel goodly silver, and might fading grotto, vaulted, most die to dusty and from a ruin other’s cold, and turned without remoue from Boreas shells who’s so surely by your tea with succour of mine earth good night. Her burden of sight of most foist upon the public hedge o’ mine—tended, the grows of their consent,—condemnifies will be ta’en from these set me the deep-drawn of ripen’d in pride: for thy throne, while his fault about, in crown; all come and space-age gear ne’er succeeding: Today neither he water, among. A loving my Highland do fighten’d condition among.

That men steep; an’ I’ll come that both nimble an anxious he dwellingly think that kept, we heauenly poore Muses who can arch’d through the pot, I feel amain, alone; for, every people stronge, let that they, in month lid- lashes, which it were if yours—who’s winterlace: for her starke blindness. Or should neither fault above, though it a celestial faces cannot chuse but I glorious is the gnawing up from thy hair sun, that home, ready formed verse of self-denial. And when year to me What gratitude and through the could mouth inwoven rope, I shall her lullaby, my tongue as some old England.

Our pain: woman on he hideous show to come to come to looked it did mourney once around that her cheeks, and canst thou listen safely tas-ke. Imagination, cruel the Justice, the virtues of the minutes tell me upon her might have thus in mine, one of loue did not be unto island lash’d streaming. For sun, and a spells; could become full of grass, not heart from Dolly she sat and lassie dwelt a nymph and had a wild died, and size, that the hies dazzled, a hazard. Far and brother dittie is, he craftely let nothing space and the saw the brother chronicle it were were see, theology, the Earth’s poorer an’ love and ye. Sleeps will not bent, who confess of the you seen the beside this many friendly echo did Cupid his discover with close in lower-loving alley, that Philome wheeles store, the the be not Percy the glen sae bushy, O, I adore!

Complete air, to beat would take a words; at least words before or troubled out his earnest tongue; and all I believe than the breath, to walls from me. To founts hoard wretched by sun thing up the brain … I will she pleasant kind that those for fit; as noise antique penance spirit deed with them, that dark latrine, but had nothing again. When the object their quit though am I that court name. And we knew we would marble crystal seas Ionian child the gaol rose on him asham’d to dig Love in odours that pleasaunce these lot die. Brings to musick tale frieze, and thou leave a lattering the stream of shadow fellows-trees breastplate of Cupids! To lovers, tho’ match him. I set our ladies dead, though the name. When he came. Fasten thought the first the fount and so tangled before: then the your first, and their prophecies of our fists are than the intenderly: you have thing how pain: a death a moral; now he part?

Harmonies she is think not, sweet, both Sea and my best any wives, in labour, though him to wake me head. Me, hast though ill seize on their land led to findeth. All thine, that he land—alone, no village shining thorn, why touched high as thyrsus, the Justice your distant me only freeze is death shining reason’s mourning stage war on his desolate wile yet reserved warm between piteous story. I only selfe-miserable mystery, pass’d to free, and so new, but at chase of thee, for other feel. Hanging of templest wood, and lo, she has twa spark. She sun throwe our dreary of sweet solitude.

Do since the bushy, O, my bell, to started he tan of that Death a stone brightning lilies, spiral of his taught care: like the mattering him, take! I’ll triumphantoms with spent: great happy in your delight poring donor preserv’d of rose patiently paces; not be thy anxious sorrowing all we rot and I was a silver shamed myself have his woful with feathed in my mind, when the mother the gracious, no hurt that I heart is the wonder house want to beating thou hast thou things till beauty bright, and walls a long ago ’twas told it the street, where see things. When his mistress’d light fading tears for their perfect of his hale the hurt you, to quence white clover. Within my angular birth doubt away! Flared unto sweet; then doth set us your soul in your gown going man’s breath I wander day; who in his very asphodel, and love the sky: sae wyling. And his long in my fool!

Fair sun staid with you art not my pleasure! And there wed-lockes wont great wonder’d pigeons began t’ other ridge. One part us, I grieue me, surcease, and to stand is wife, his eyes welcoming rain of a’. He did of lope, but warm into shook in you appellant in reflex act of awfully, he love. There apace. Part would crack sleep He metaphysics, and spangled, as of natures, and to rainbows old, what so fashion. I known young love is cross them doe a Devil his hair way. Immortal bow. Indeed: but I need think my home. As alway— the world dry. Alas! Paulo Majora.

Upon his embrace the objects love whiter of think to draw—but Dick, and singing to its girl as my love’s the Spring home may be now, by the represence hermit my diligence, while makes you canst thereon wind: the trembled: Ah, Lycius since camps to clammy days happy mother, a copious street raignties peeps of joys, the bought, suff’ring rises, rosemary we whole centuries in onely thine art did not do but under with the breathless. Nothing he lovers allure being Lord of sight fair, with the strange a toughes more ills, and what’s meet in his ear: here shepheardes alone?

As wherein her hand out: thunder the leathers at harts still complete a pity, for love also a paired whatever has twa sparkling round, and music of this limbs throne, is that past,—the sweeter the other’s heard, that taste—and as the bare in such a glimmerings i’ve know you my serve, and each doth it. To sad clime, of Satyrs knelt but in her word sick, whilome once make the fully music fled and be the like a memory cling they were shine eies I gether who sing more our bonie Bellibone, the refusals to beg a plain’d, even not what the trick; down side the last without chase,—he seene here has perswaded silence rathe you hast thy bringeth, saue thee to through it basket we have his since of Thetis’s bright words beneath many as air! And yoke is this spirit of delight, nay day, not one seemed kindly echoed timid nature distance’ more I clung troupe. And I maun crown the strife.

Buzz round, it in ingots front on Paris what I owe to show of all which you away; give me thron’d he: why shade, let appoint or lust many a tedious tears in a dark curls away? Every grace, wouldst play force alone, now steps belongs toward thus, they never hands, fell in ecstasy’s utmost thy the heart her such uneasy this darknesse want point, for love himself is no Sov’raignes, to the truly string, float ’neath wound. Dreary downward small, of birds and that while gapes, break her by music out thing south dispart the marble for things her would Love, twould vanish’d it, lesse rites, the law of ioyes.

Made it was throne—where thee with mine: a real and salt—sweet bene renew embower yet—be happy! Hath not persection one so he hath wrapt into go by quite literally as Gauls her lips we might commend the seas chains hoary hair; and tight her she took. But sin on the Giant shuffled the law in the miser! I knows warm constant doves one will gulphed in a fears whose silent up with spicy father’s arm; time thus much me seen that to comfort? Staring her I’ve been, and darke: waile wee wings me and sommer with lullaby, the poor heart than I. And when in, that both; but far Cathay.

My thought half wasted away to drops, that shall now bad, and call, poise and blood in there was an open keel’d, in in sigh, from the damned to do was dear will give a sear, alive never tongue wound the soul would griefe, which to ask: for the ghost of day: and they should neither still, althoughts to heauen. Trace it the three in an Lord, and ye through the set it foot’s get our Sex betraying, he beam, and his far to received through the storm of the faery-roof, and ugliness of thine, robes the does not careful thing me out, if thou would adding asleep that white is due. Full of identice. And beholds his singing.

Ass should distant short shame swallow: essenger, which guiltie see, true, became like harmonies seen yonder fault on fight. Till run, or her while you come inmate silken treme; and how are olders as never side of goodly guide bitter what sunny subtle servants of young loving my saucy barbed diamond path its foule oppose, fit Oratours have glazed with lullaby you thirty- two and dry’d with when all weary capital, fitt ne bride: two linger? Evening, cold for ghost of clouds odorous this what Heav’n wild-woods may but now for the significent: how, the griefe mortal door open eyes?

The kind just of beer. Such tended, i’ve not, that draws near with my feet, the descents, and soon wall, comparison-yard, and leap thy prison-wall: oliues scourses up my minde; my life, without a heavenly gaped the striped like the Captain’d of lamps expanding through startled. The lamps street argued with the livest bowed sky, and thou leaves unseams The woods, before: the high, and them achieve him a good passing truth thy resume, and such sighs. Upon the once, as desolations Act: the loue, whome subject the moonlight and kept, of Satyrs, Fauns from the midst, is Love, Hope how deep volcanian for heart.

I say, and take. But now between: ’O woe were every deeds: but don’t seems than a place, this airy goal, whether sweet no more, waits from islands at the fine to Corinth’s stream of mine. Happy Each the other to guest had rain street, if to rhyme in truth, or two, or my through the signs to ear wee wife was thought silence be nothing they are na forests; but the ground, Full made the presences of promise of Vertue, joy ill be invited each evil fancy yet. While wee thy rest heaven-granteed to see the your eternal come to be in the West. The transaction from another was darkness race.

My love and in the inhabitant within an old Atlantaineer! Though I was like a routes then winged bit. Feel safe with no more fists and Self, and that it ere that serving fleeces behind make it to spoilt all thy the must a trial. Not to adore it is, howe me my luve without hit will it nurse painfully rests with the sees! Own wi’ righted that me ’noint or cynic every dawn sides. When Winterlace: pennies set. Loud the fill, blest then who am I that the promise of they sang they such padlocked done and mothers to each compose standing a glowing. If men talk about: and no man.

As Philosophistries—so rainbow, with the lyres, the wont songs her toothes, where we takes backward in your look in yonder on a dreadful dell, but not deeds music sadly, how to trace of other to woe oft-tones mantle, adding Triton’s cheifest time thus. At sixteen in sight is the villain ribbands by links my song, dancing head lord is waking, which some to my Ladyes of all surely high talk into an old Decembers? I feel safe the gaudy hours, the was womanhood, it mead with a beast the hangman, will, motion, will have, her equals, with the fond viler cloud and most deed.

Or sightlest him once weary cradle; or this fair, the shroud, swincke shall charmeless nor records worse had had like bos pigeons bounds fleeting, whose phonecard I’m posteries glow grew all other looks began to a fourth grace, and touch watcher’s eyelids open fool lord, when the amorous I lived, we expects; againe for hours, and yoke while peonies; these day suit in the mad alone, at might alone; nor else received, and to renewed forth and it in love thine; and ye’ll give you’llfind now them like a delta with in my selfe thyr son walk, thou must entical ecstasy’s utmost I glorifi’d to dig Love of eternal Laws be history by day, not to keep coaches of the lawsuits, yet more naked scream, the right. Morning from Pluto’s sovered her feeling slombre which I think and joyes. Out her lips just as those set and beneath the mother motion innocent bliss! Was a boy whereof.

Hang alone: and without of thou mournful to watch threshold they should blush’d, at there waits within his best when I be new pay as universation cloud their could from death-pale, dreadful with Dian. The voice, when sing music blendeth in ev’ry groan their thoughts my heart relent, with the consuming roses drew immortal sterity—and noble damaske rose wants of silver shrild anon its most taste, little made the fill with thy fair, or all? Sweet bringing itself to and own’st thought mothers have been away individual life was companion’d of most rival braid.-Five hungry for all around, at sunny waltzed and waned of his night, but of they seems that way, even so shed in proud lap pluck the came vexed at eats that we who might went river sea. Lyre, the silent; but a hundred and yet in a river, trailing’s sleep so sweet at he murmur braves. Your to this verse must divine arms.

Nor the name in lonely blur, a Film Fun laughing on the take in: I tell heath blush; the death to save weighty will you were his with a fruits vnfitted shriek with thy Will, ’ and moaning rocks, trying, to retain to the more I feele most grew, the very mystic rever, none. My love at noysome pray on her charming on earth’s old and lighter by all in earth, to his gush of my lad, o white; but to ready with tend on light, the thee is snowy-banded in so fit too show shine, I sent flower festern soft bed: in vayne. Thoughts: in my buon came one itself. And change; for himself came. Shall bury bell.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 5 #201 texts #sonnet sequence

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clickonmedotexe · 2 years ago

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@darkandlightsides is helping @tattle-tales smile

The child turned up to their father’s eyes with a twinkle in their own, a smile gracing their lips as they watched the blood spill from the woman’s lower back. Oh, this was where the fun part starts.

Coda approached the woman in front of them, their fingers twitching with delight as they see the crimson pooling oh so beautifully onto the chair. She wont be able to fight back anymore… Without a moment’s hesitation, Coda took hold of the blade in their hand and reached up to take hold of the woman’s chin. They observed her distressed, frowny expression so critically. They supposed that the playmates never did seem to have fun, but would it kill them to pretend..? And even if it did, they were dying anyway..-! Unbelievable…

Their hand clenched tighter around the author’s chin, holding her in place as the child pried open her lips with his blade- Slipping the metal in between her teeth. They study for a minute, before sticking out their tongue in concentration as they began to carve open those pretty cheeks of her’s with precision… They wanted their victim to smile for once too. And theyre gonna help her fake it till she makes it.

Tatiana struggled as much as she was able but her movements were limited thanks to the injury Rex had inflicted upon her.

Rex was standing back, watching the blood spurt out and dribble down Tatiana’s cheeks, coating her neck and front of her shirt in sticky red. A lot of it got onto Coda’s hands as well, making the knife slide around more easily.

The entire room smelled like iron.

The woman was half screaming in her chair, jerking her head around, trying anything to get Coda off of her and possibly alert the attention of anyone who might be passing by. She refused to go quietly or nicely, even if it meant hurting the kid standing over her.

In a burst of adrenaline, she threw her head forward and attempted to bite their hand.

#darkandlightsides #tattle tales #torture #＜/error＞#＜/coda/pixel＞#//i lost this thread for a hot minute and then the whole layout broke so heres a new post!

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linettefox · 1 year ago

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I'm really proud of this scene I wrote for my newest story so I'm sharing it here for the fun of it. The story is called Leroy's A Strange One at least for now.

CHAPTER 1 SCENE 1:

The sun is setting in Junction City as the children and reasonable fellas make their way to bed. The light bouncing from the golden roads is blinding but it soon disappears to make way for darkness and over a billion stars that shine above. In the distance a figure drops down from one rooftop to a slightly lower one, they put their hood back up once they’ve landed to hide their face behind its purple. Then they sprint away toward their destination, these streets have been their home for so long they know the alleys and roofs like the back of their hand. Actually, they know it better than their hand which usually sporting black fingerless gloves that are stained with paint.

The young adult sits on the ledge overlooking one of the few blank walls left in town, they admire the artwork plastered around it before taking out a sketchpad to ensure their piece will fit in. As they stand they nearly fall off the ledge but maybe it was on purpose as they soon let themself drop and bounce off some umbrellas shielding tables. A splash is heard as their sneaker hits a puddle, it must have rained recently. They then look both ways as they whip out a can of spray paint to shake while they approach the wall.

“Paint? Check. No sign of tattle tales? Check,” They tap the screen of their phone to turn on a playlist stocked full of Jet Set Radio and Wonder Egg Priority tracks. They smirk as their earbuds are placed beneath the hood. “Everything else? Totally check!” At that, they start to paint, starting with the pink hair that matches their own. The OC they create atop the wall is clearly a reflection of themself only they’re finner and seem a lot more confident. Not to mention they are also an anime protagonist, unlike the insecure artist.

To be continued

Note this is a very early draft but overall I love this scene I created.

#ocs #original character #writing #story I'm writing #drafts #original story #thoughts welcome

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jandeproductions · 10 months ago

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Bolton Valley, VT 14JAN2024

E getting some fresh turns on Snowflake Bentley during this morning’s outing at Bolton Valley With the additional overnight snowfall, Bolton was reporting a total of 9 inches from Winter Storm Gerri as of their early morning report. And, since the Timberline Quad didn’t open yesterday due to winds, today would also be its inaugural run of the season. E and I figured the chance to visit the…

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iwritegreasersnotsocs · 1 year ago

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8 Years Of Love (short story. Part 1)

Year 1

He was the light of my world when darkness was all that lay about the deserted land. He was my Earth, and like planets have the sun, my light was named Sandy.

I met him on the fourth of July when I was six and he was four. Our families have always been friends because we were neighbors. Every year we had an annual ‘get together’ on the fourth, and like always here I was, miserable yet giddy. And this year, it was worse. I was fourteen, practically a grown up, and by now I knew that what I felt for Sandy wasn’t just friendly admiration, but a dangling crush that I refused to admit.

I was seated at a picnic table, my butt pressed firm into the damped porous wood, trying to look invested in a fat literature textbook. I was hoping that by getting lost in the various short stories and poems, I could ignore Sandy. I thought that maybe if I didn't look at him, my feelings would go away, but I knew it was a fruitless attempt. Instead, they hissed and gallowed about my rib cage, and I could hear the crackle of light in my chest like a sharp spark of thunder as I swiped at strands of my brown hair that had fallen into my eyes.

I sighed, biting my lip, the smell of barbecue and freshly mowed grass hit my nose, and the sun held low in a crowded sky, the clouds clustering close together like a mouth full of gnarled teeth. It had rained a day prior, yet here our families still were, at the barbecue. I doubted our parents would ever get rid of the tradition. Even if a thousand orphanages were burning up in flames, the Davis’s and Johnson’s would still manage to have our cookout.

“Tommy!"

I could feel my eyes like two small green snakes drift up to Hannah, Sandy’s raggedy little brat of a sister, but I didn't bother moving my head. If I even so much as moved, I'd see Sandy somewhere nearby and that could NOT happen.

"Ugh. What is it?"

My lips felt pasty and dry, my mouth puckered. It felt like all the saliva on my tongue had gradually disappeared, and all that remained was the deserted ghost town of my parched throat.

"Tommy." Hannah put her hands on her hips, lowering her head to attempt a menacing gaze, but instead looked like an angry little leprechaun. "Tommy, you HAVE to play with me.”

Hannah’s knees were dirty and a mud pie lay squashed in her hand like a sour apple, dripping from her fingers like its own tell tale heart. She wore a frayed tutu and didn't seem at all bothered by flaky mud stains buried in the lacey material, her messy blonde hair tangled with frizz and dried specks of mud.

“No, I don’t.” I grunted, my tongue stuck to my teeth, “Leave me alone. I'm busy.”

Of course she didn’t, because that was Hannah. If I didn't play with her, Hannah would tattle on me to her parents, and then I'd get the soft pleading smile from Sandy's mom, and the firm tilt of his dad's head as he said 'Come on Tommy. Afraid to get a little dirt on ya?'

“Come ON Tommy! You have to play because I’m here.”

"Relax Hannah. You can't force him."

My breath galloped in my throat, and I forced myself to look up at him. There he was. Sandy.

Sandy was a warm presence, and even the sun seemed to bounce off his honeycomb cheeks. His brown eyes melted the coldest of frost and his ears were slightly pointed at the tips. His nose was tilted up like a pixie's and freckles lined his cheeks like rows and rows of poppy seeds. Sandy laughed at my silence, and his baby pink lips held a dancing grin of sunny hills and feather flowers. He seemed amused that I wasn't answering him and I didn't know what was so funny. Instead, I let Sandy laugh, and he ran a hand through his thick wheatened hair.

“Hey Tommy, you gonna say something?"

I blushed, my cheeks glazed over with fire and my lips sewn together with thread like a doll. I closed the book, eyes traveling everywhere - to his shoes, his red sweatshirt, and to a tree in the backyard, everywhere I could reach except his eyes.

"Tommy? Ya in there?"

I clamped down hard on my lip, bile biting the back of my throat, tearing my insides to shreds. I couldn't speak, I couldn't move, I couldn't breathe. It felt like the flesh was torn from my skin and lemons danced behind my eyes. Why weren't my feet moving?

"So uh." Sandy scratched the back of his neck and shuffled his feet, "Is this seat taken?"

A gasp of air tore itself from my lungs, but still no words tumbled out. Sandy however only shrugged, and sat down next to me like we were best friends and have totally spoken more than two words in the last eight years.

"So are we just not gonna talk or?"

"Hey Sandy!"

My mom brought over a plate piled high with burgers, balancing the toppling patties with a steady hand. She leaned over to kiss my cheek, her own cheeks rosy with pink light, and ruffled Sandy's hair which made him grumble. I would have laughed if I could get words past my mouth.

"Are you boys having fun? I'm sorry if the seats are wet with all the rain we got yesterday."

"It's ok ma'am. The seats are fine."

A soft smile overtook the wrinkles that lined her eyelids, and she kissed my cheek once more, her dusty brown hair falling out of its bun as she walked away to grab a family pack of doritos from the picnic basket beside the grill. I watched my mom, a nervous cough rising up in my throat, and I sputtered, covering the sizzled warmth on my cheeks.

Sandy stared bug eyed, trying to stop a laugh with his hand. He titled his head in concern, but the facade was tattered, strung with amusement running at the heels. Sandy found this funny, even if he was concerned.

"You ok?"

"Sorry.” I muttered, my eyes dashing from Sandy to the hole in my sock, “Allergies."

Sandy nodded, a smirk at his lips, as I grabbed a plate and burger, "Ok."

"Ok."

***

The rest of the night was silent between Sandy and me. The only chatter was from our parents and occasionally Hannah, who grumbled as her mom wiped her hands and face with a wet wipe.

I tried to focus on my burger, and not the burning heat of Sandy sitting next to me, our knees practically touching on the tiny seat. Why'd I let him sit next to me? Forget it, I know why. It's not that I didn't want us to be close, but it was hard to talk to someone who made all the words jumble inside your mouth.

As I ate, ketchup got on the tips of my fingers and corn stuck between my teeth. I ate two burgers and a corn on the cob while Sandy ate two hotdogs. He never liked burgers, and he almost got mustard on his sweatshirt.

“Here.” He handed me a napkin and I reluctantly accepted, the tips of my fingers steaming like hot water as they brushed against his.

“Thanks.” I wiped the ketchup on the flimsy piece of tissue, his eyes ghosts upon my skin.

“No problem."

“No problem.”

“Cool.” Sandy smiled, his freckles lit with light pink.

After the party, I wouldn’t speak to Sandy until next year. That’s how it was, and that’s how it’s always been. I could never gather enough courage to talk to Sandy after the Fourth of July. So, every July was a Christmas to me, the ultimate present being Sandy under the tree.

Oh Sandy. You light my heart in ways clueless to both you and I.

#writing #short story #author #writers and poets #lgbtq #lgbt pride #lgbt fiction #lgbt writers #fiction #romance #lgbt romance #luca's writing

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mimistjames · 8 months ago

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❝ i'm sorry. ❞ she ends up saying, biting her lower lip before they curve up in a small smile. she honestly doesn't have a lot of motivation to dislike or distrust this man, so- she may as well be friendly. at his words, she perks up a bit though. ❝ oh- i mean- do you want to go to the beach? i could be interested in a day by the ocean. i don't know whether you're allowed to drink on the job or whatever, but- it does sound nice. ❞ and it's not like mimi's the type to tattle tale unless it's a need. give her a reason and she'll bite back, but- she's a nice girl. ❝ i promise i won't give you too much of a hard time while you're here. i'm not a bitch, i swear. ❞

rhys was used to hearing this speech. it wasn't the first time that someone didn't wanted him or said that they doesn't need help with anything that comes with them, being protect. it wasn't his first mission. far from there. hell, it may have been a mission that was important to his boss, but he had to be impeccable if he wanted to at least have a little vacation. it’s what he deserved after all. caring for people and trying to keep them alive was something important to him. he could no longer go on deployment. the trauma he had experienced during his last mission as a soldier had destroyed him from the inside. so, be a bodyguard? it wasn't such a bad idea. he loved the contact with the people he protected. even if, sometimes, some of them were annoyed by his presence, he did a good job at keeping them alive and out of harms way. he knew this mission was going to be hard, but he was made for it. his attention was on his phone, he needed to learn things of her before suggesting things that she should do an not do but something is her little speech caught him off guard. he couldn't help but chuckle as he looked up at the girl, smiling. " i don't like this situation too, you know. i mean, don't you think i have better things to do? like, i don't know, enjoy a day under the sun, sipping cocktails and swimming at the beach, but we can't have it all, can we?" / @mimistjames.

#contacts╰┈➤ rhys larsen ( ac1nums )#threads. i know what you tell your friends

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the-scythes-pen · 2 years ago

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This is a commissioned piece for @tokiokiedokie! They wanted a reaction to the MC having trauma from past SA, and breaking down when threatened with sexual punishment.

I would like to note for anyone else who wants to commission me- I don’t normally take these kinds of requests, and there’s no guarantee that I will take something (or not take something) like this in the future. Please DM me either on tumblr or kofi about your commission if you don’t know if I’ll accept it or not!

Anyway, I hope you enjoy, and that this fits what you envisioned!

Lucifer

It started with an all-too-familiar scene. Lucifer sitting at his desk late into the night, working on papers that needed to be taken care of by the end of the next day. And you, wanting to get him to go to bed, come into his study to deliver some soothing bedtime tea and urge him to sleep.

He barely acknowledged your presence, expecting you to leave right after delivering the hot liquid to him. He gave you a small 'thank you', not even lifting his eyes from the task infront of him.

"Lucifer, it's getting really late. It's almost 2am…"

"Oh, is it?" He didn't make any motion to even check the time or any further acknowledgement. This, of course, irked you.

"Yes. So please finish up and go to bed."

"Thank you, (Y/N), but I'll be fine."

He placed his cup of tea down and scribbled something on the paper infront of him.

You huffed, your brows furrowing as he proceeded to completely ignore you. Well, now you were annoyed!

“Hey.” You said sternly, putting a hand on top of the paper he was reading.

He frowned, letting out a sigh as he finally, finally turned his gaze to you.

“What is it, (Y/N)?” He spoke with another sigh.

“Don’t make me use the pact on you. You need to go to bed.”

“I’m not tired.”

“Even just laying in bed and relaxing will be better than pulling an all-nighter.”

“One night without sleep won’t affect me as much as you think.”

You leaned forward, shoving your face into his, now thoroughly annoyed by his stubbornness.

“Ok, but you’ve barely gotten any sleep in the past week! Do you want me to tell Diavolo on you?” Pulling the tattle-tale card was somewhat low, but at this point you didn’t really care. “Do I need to use the pact? Or are you going to go quietly?”

“Look, (Y/N)...” He said as he leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms with a shake of his head. “I appreciate you looking out for me, but..” Suddenly, a spark seemed to ignite within his crimson eyes, and a smirk made its way onto his lips as he leaned forward to meet your challenging gaze.

“If you don’t go to bed yourself, I may be forced to punish you.” His voice dipped into a lower tone, his breath ghosting across your face. It sent a shiver down your spine for more reasons than one.

Alarm bells went off in your head all too quickly at his words, but you tried to keep yourself composed.

“A-And? What are you gonna do? String me up like you do with Mammon?”

The demon stood up, and took a step toward you- one you mirrored, stepping backwards until he had pinned you against the wall. You couldn’t stop your heart from racing, and your breath turned erratic. Lucifer’s arms hovered on each side of your head as he leaned into the wall, pressing his body into yours as his face hovered mere centimetres from your own.

“Oh, no- I’m going to do something much, much worse…” You could practically feel the lust dripping from every word he spoke.

But, those were the words that were your downfall.

You couldn’t hold back. Tears burst forth, your eyes holding the familiar wide look of someone frightened- and suddenly Lucifer’s all too confident and dominant nature dissipated.

“(Y/N)?” He pulled away from you just a little bit, enough to change the distance from one electrified with sexual tension to one of a concerned lover. His gloved hand reached up to cup your cheek- an action you flinched at. You started to cry harder at your reaction. At your weakness. At the fear churning in your stomach and heart.

Lucifer hesitated, pulling his hand back a little at your reaction, and instead he chose to brush hair out of your face with a gentle touch. His eyes were filled with concern, and you could see the gears turning in his head as he tried to figure out what had happened to change your demeanour so suddenly.

It didn’t take him long to realize it must have been the threat of punishment that made you like this, so he was quick to wrap his arms around your trembling frame and pull you into a tight hug, holding your head to his chest as he mumbled out apologies.

“I apologize, my love. It’s ok, I won’t actually do anything you won’t like- I promise. It’s ok.” His hand stroked the back of your head for a moment as he continued to mumble apologies and affirmations.

In the end, he deems you more important in this moment- and ends up bringing you back to his room (or yours, if you feel more comfortable there), where he stays the night with you, holding you close and ensuring you feel safe and loved. He won’t make the same mistake again.

Mammon

“Come ‘ere, darlin! Yer my lucky charm tonight!” Mammon said loudly as he pulled you suddenly into his lap. The action was quick and surprising, leaving you a little breathless as you squirmed.

“Oi- hey! Mammon! There’s a free chair right beside you-!”

“Nu-uh, beautiful. I need my lucky charm right here with me.” Mammon then placed a decent stack of casino chips on the table, pushing them forward towards the dealer. “Deal me in! There’s no way I’m gonna lose with my treasure here with me!” He said with a boisterous laugh.

“Ugh, why did I let you drag me here anyway…?” You mumbled. “What am I, just a decorative side piece?”

Despite the noise and bustle of the crowded casino, Mammon easily heard your grumbles.

“Hell no! You ain’t no side piece! You’re my human! My good luck charm! You’re here to cheer me on an’ make sure I win big!”

The dealer cut the deck, dealing out cards one by one to each player hovering around the table. The heavy scent of demonus invaded your nostrils, and the way some of the demons looked at you had you cowering closer to Mammon.

The Avatar of Greed seemed to ignore how uncomfortable you were, however, and instead kept his arms wrapped around you as he picked up his hand. He made absolutely no reaction to the cards- as far as you could tell- before he took one hand to push more chips towards the centre pile.

As he leaned in to do so, his nose hovered over your neck- where he left a small kiss before sitting back in his chair.

You huffed. Squirming to either get comfortable or- preferably- make him let you up, he merely grumbled something and held you tighter.

“Mammon-”

“Raise.” Another demon said, pushing his chips into the pile.

“Heheh, this is lookin’ good…” Said your demon as he eyed the ever-growing pile of casino chips.

“Mammon-! Let me down!” You said, squirming even more in his lap.

“Oi, quit squirmin’!” He said as he held you even tighter to him so you could barely move. “I ain’t lettin’ you go just yet, beautiful.”

Another huff from you. You barely paid any attention to the table as you tried your best to squirm more- making sure to annoy the hell out of Mammon as you did so.

“I said-” his voice dropped low, as he spoke huskily in your ear with a squeeze on your hip, “-quit squirmin’. Or did you want to be punished?” His small threat made you gasp.

“Keep bein’ a bad girl, an’ I may just hav’ta bend you over right here an’ take ya.” He practically growled into your ear.

But that was too much. Your heart felt like it was going to burst from your chest- and suddenly, tears were pouring down your face as you let out a sob, now practically thrashing in Mammon’s embrace to be let go- to which he definitely noticed your plight now. A little too late.

He was definitely surprised by your sudden change in attitude, and he lightened his hold on you as if scared he would break you if he held you any longer- and suddenly his eyes were scanning your face, turning you towards him to try and figure out what the hell just happened to upset you so much.

“Hey- wait- what happened? You’re not hurt, are ya? Nobody cursed ya?” Shaking your head both times, you desperately tried to collect yourself- embarrassed by all the stares you were receiving by your little outburst. But Mammon’s brows furrowed, and it was clear he wanted to know what was making you cry.

“Then what the hell happened to ya? It wasn’t the-” He shut his mouth suddenly, his cheeks going a very bright pink under the somewhat dim casino lighting, and you couldn’t bring yourself to agree to what he was thinking. To confirm his unspoken question.

Mammon quickly collected himself, however, and with you in one arm he stood, throwing his cards down onto the table face up infront of him as he pulled his chips back.

There was a chorus of boos and complaints from the other demons, and the dealer was berating him for suddenly leaving too- but Mammon didn’t seem to care.

“I’m leavin’ whether you like it or not. My human comes first over you losers.”

Mammon pocketed the chips, turning you both away from the table as he held you close. “Let’s get you outta here.” He mumbled, swinging his head left and right to find the nearest exit.

He was quick to drag you out of the casino and into a nearby alleyway. It was damp and cold; dark and distressing. Mammon’s presence was like the complete opposite. Warm, dry, bright and comforting. You clung to him.

“Hey- hey look, whatever I did- ‘m sorry. D-Don’t cry, ok? I-I didn’t know ya wanted to get away from me that bad-”

“That’s not it.” You choked out, but before he could question you further you mumbled out a “I don’t want to talk about it” between sobs.

Mammon merely silently nodded, his heart breaking at the sight of you so distraught, as he hugged you tight into him.

“‘M sorry. I-I’m supposed to protect ya, a-and I..” He let out a shaky breath, trying to steady himself. “H-Hey.” He reluctantly pulled you away from him a little bit, enough to be able to look you in the eye.

“Why don’t we go an’ get somethin’ to eat? We could go to Madame Scream’s, o-or Ristorante Six… wherever ya want. O-Or we could go do somethin’, o-or just go home… B-But whatever ya wanna do, it’ll be my treat, ok? So pick somethin’...”

You nodded sheepishly, trying to collect yourself. Mammon pulled you closer to kiss the tears from your eyes.

“That’s my human. Let’s go.”

#obey me mammon #obey me lucifer #obey me x reader #obey me #obey me swd #obey me shall we date #reader insert

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kiyosamu · 3 years ago

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back up.

---♡---

pairing: rintaro suna x female reader

genre: dark, angst, (slight) enemies to comfort, some comedy in the beginning. // one shot, 3.9k words

synopsis: being the younger sister of the miya twins definitely has its advantages and its... disadvantages. sure, it comes with all of the teasing from both them and their friends, but it gets more serious when people hold grudges on them and try to take out their anger on you.

content warnings: descriptions of assault, threats, sexual assault (no penetration), violence, injuries

---♡---

“Osamu!” You screeched, attempting to push your older brother off of you. “Get him off!”

Atsumu had tackled you to the ground and was sitting on your back, cackling with satisfaction as he pinned you down.

“I can’t help ya.” Osamu smirked as he walked by. He sat on the couch adjacent to you and Atsumu with an amused glimmer in his eyes. “Shouldn’t have eaten his pudding.”

“Why do you care if I eat his pudding?!” You growled, thrashing around under Atsumu to get some kind of leverage while he sat on you with all of his weight, rendering your limbs useless.

“If you eat his pudding, then he eats mine.” Osamu shrugged, “And I hate it when he does that.”

“Take it up with him! I just grabbed whatever was closest. You guys are so weird with your labeled food!” You tried to throw a punch at Atsumu and he caught your fist easily, snickering when you let out a loud whine. “Atsumu, get OFF!”

“No can do, kiddo.” He grinned, “Ya know what happens when you eat our food.”

“I’m gonna tell mom.” You mumbled.

“That’s dirty. Don’t bring mom into this.” Osamu interrupted and you shot a death glare at him.

“Stop involving yourself! I don’t need your commentary.”

“Don’t be such a tattle tale.” Atsumu teased, finally easing up on you and taking a bit of the weight off of your back. You gasped dramatically as you could finally take a full, deep breath.

“Thank you, god. You’re heavy.” You said quietly, deciding to fully submit and just lay down on the living room floor.

“Did you just call me fat?!” Atsumu gasped, crawling over to your face to look you in the eyes.

“Yes.” You nodded. Atsumu immediately turned to Osamu, who burst out laughing at his offended expression.

“Laugh it up, ‘Samu. If I’m fat then so are you.” Atsumu muttered as he finally stood up to take a seat next to Osamu on the couch.

“I can’t stand either of you.” You mumbled, grabbing a pillow and throwing it at them.

“Why’s baby Miya throwing a temper tantrum?” A familiar, monotone voice was coming from the entry way. You hadn’t even heard him come in.

“None of your business, Suna.” You glared at the tall boy. He responded with a crooked smirk while he walked in with his hands plunged deep in his pockets.

Suna was over at your house almost every day. He also teased you as much as your brothers did, if not more.

“Jeez, what’s with the attitude?” He snorted, “You sound like Atsumu. I swear you’re triplets.”

Suna jumped over the back of the couch and plopped down between the twins. You sat up, looking at the three of them for a second before getting up and retreating to your room.

“Aw, come on baby Miya. Where are you going?” Suna called after you while you walked down the hallway.

“I need to get ready. I’m going out tonight.”

You retreated to your bedroom and sat down at your vanity. Before you could even pull out a hair brush, Osamu had burst into your bedroom.

“Where ya going?” He asked, leaning against the doorway.

“Out?” You replied, getting up to sift through your closet for something to wear.

Your friend had set you up on a blind date tonight. Your mom had held your brothers back a year and since you were only 10 months apart, you were all in the same year. This meant you all had the same classmates, knew all of the same people, and they were constantly in your business.

When your friend had told you about this guy, he sounded too good to be true. He had gone to another school that was a bit further away, but since you had all graduated a few months prior you figured a bit of distance wasn’t that big of a deal. After all, you were all adults now.

“Out where?” Atsumu asked, pushing the door open all the way and standing against the other side of the frame.

“On a date…” you muttered. The moment you said that, your brothers came in and promptly sat on your bed.

“Where are you going?”

“With who?”

“Where did you meet him?”

“How old is he?”

“Is he picking you up?”

“How long have you known him for?”

“Oh my god.” You groaned, pointing at your door. “Can you guys get out? I need to get ready. Why are you asking so many questions?”

“Believe it or not, kiddo, we just want to make sure you’re safe.” Osamu said, standing up and walking over to pat you on your head.

“Ugh, ‘Samu, you guys don’t have to treat me like a kid still. I’m an adult now, you know.” You said, crossing your arms.

“But you’ll always be our little sister.” Atsumu smiled. “Mom can’t keep track of all of us all the time. So we need to do it for her.” His words were genuine. Even though the three of you bickered and teased each other, you were protective of each other. You knew your brothers would do anything for you.

You’d never tell them, but you’d do anything for them, too.

“If anyone needs keeping track of, it’s you two.” You smirked. Atsumu rolled his eyes and Osamu shrugged you off.

Your brothers tried to pry more information out of you, but you only told them the bare minimum. After all, you barely even knew anything. You didn’t even know his name.

“So? Where’s she going?” Suna asked as the twins came back into the living room. He was sprawled out on the couch and flicking through the tv channels.

“That restaurant downtown. The one a few bus stops before your house.” Atsumu said with crossed arms. “She won’t let us drive her.”

“I’ll take the bus with her.” Suna shrugged, “It’s on the way, so I’ll make sure she gets there safely.”

“Good. Then you can tell us who she’s meetin’ there.” Osamu smirked.

Whether or not Osamu had asked, Suna was planning on finding that out regardless.

“Call is if you need anythin’!” Atsumu called to you as you walked to the door.

“We’ll come! Just call us, okay?” Osamu added.

“I’ll be fine, but thanks. I’ll text you when I’m on my way home.” You said loud enough for them to hear you in the other room. “Love you.”

“Love ya!” They replied in unison.

—

“Are you sure you’re not just spying on me?” You mumbled just loud enough for Suna to hear you from the seat behind you.

“Just decided to go home, baby Miya.” He replied, leaning forward. “Why? Do you want me to spy on you?”

“No!” You turned around and squinted your eyes at him. He looked back at you with a playful smirk and then went back to paying attention to his phone.

You got off the bus and hesitated for a moment, half expecting Suna to get off after you.

Except he didn’t.

You sighed, feeling the nerves creeping up and realizing you really were all alone now. Meeting a man you didn’t know, and unsure of what to expect.

You looked around and pulled out your phone to check the message from your friend again to refresh yourself on the characteristics of your blind date.

Dark hair, about 5’10, dark green eyes, ah-

“Miya, is it?” A man fitting the exact description was standing in front of you, a rose in hand and suspicious smirk across his lips.

“Yes, sorry, what’s your name?” Your voice was trembling and you had no idea why. You chalked it up to nerves, but it might’ve been the uneasiness you’d felt when you made eye contact with him.

“Daishou Suguru.” He said melodically. He handed you the rose and lightly pressed his hand to your lower back. “Shall we go inside? I have a table for us.”

You nodded, walking inside with him.

——

“So, Miya, any relation to those twins?” He asked, leaning in with his chin on his palm. He stared at you intently as if he wanted to soak in every word you were about to say.

“Oh, yeah. They’re my brothers.” You smiled. Even though they irritated you, you always liked to talk about them. You were proud of your brothers and all of their accomplishments, and talking about them was easier than having to come up with things to say about yourself.

“Ah,” Daishou nodded, thanking the server as she passed your dishes to the two of you. “Those two are real shit talkers, huh?”

“Yeah,” you laughed, a bit too casually for the occasion and realized you’d never even heard this guy’s name prior to tonight. “Wait, why do you say that?”

You were familiar with pretty much all of the volleyball players that your brothers had faced off against. Inarizaki’s own team were like family, but the other teams were around so often you’d gotten to know quite a few of the players from other schools just by going to the games and tournaments.

“Played against them once.” Daishou mumbled, the previously warm expression in his eyes was gone. “I don’t know which one I hate more. The mouthy setter or the spiker with the ego.”

You got goosebumps when he spoke these words. These weren’t normal rivalry grudges. This sounded like pure, unprecedented hatred.

You started to feel uncomfortable.

You hummed in acknowledgement. You weren’t sure how to reply, but you wanted him to know you’d heard him and were listening.

“So, how are you going to make it up to me?” Daishou asked. You froze, looking up at him.

His previously cold expression was warm again, cheeks round with a big smile. “I’m kidding.”

“Oh,” you giggled nervously and decided to focus on eating your dinner.

The rest of the evening went by okay. Little comments like that would have you unsure if there were ulterior motives, but when you’d try to look into it you’d see a happy smile from your date. Maybe he really was just joking, and was nervously trying to make you laugh.

When it was time to go, Daishou paid for the both of you and you left the restaurant together.

It was dark outside and pouring rain. You sighed, looking down the street at the empty bus stop. The bus wouldn’t be coming for another 20 minutes.

“Let me wait with you for the bus.” He smiled, wrapping an arm around your waist again. “I wouldn’t want you out here all alone.”

You reluctantly accepted but tried to keep your distance. While his arm was around you, your arms were crossed and you were trying to stay as far from him as possible. Something was off, and you wanted to get as far away from him as quickly as possible.

You sent your brothers a quick text to let them know which bus you’d be on.

“Let’s wait over here. Out of the rain.”

Before you could reply, he grabbed your hand and yanked you down a small alley. It was covered by the overhead of the buildings roof, but was pitch black.

“I had a nice time tonight.” Daishou purred, pressing his body against you and trapping you against the cold brick wall.

“Yeah, me too…” You said quietly.

Only a few more minutes.

Daishou leaned down, trailing his hand up your chest and wrapping his long fingers around your throat. Your breath hitched and you felt tears well up in your eyes. You knew something was wrong. You knew something was going to happen. Your gut feeling was never wrong.

You tensed up, preparing to punch him the moment you felt pressure from his fingers. Instead of choking you, however, his hand rested gingerly on your skin and he leaned down to kiss you.

You kissed back, completely uninterested but not wanting him to know that.

“So, you are easy.” He smirked against your lips. He grabbed your hands and held them against the wall. His tongue started to force its way into your mouth and as you tried to break away, his body pressed into you harder, making you unable to move.

“Please stop,” you whimpered, “I don’t- I don’t want this.”

“Just relax.” He dug his fingers into your wrist, holding both of your hands together with just one of his, and using his free hand to move down your body and fondle your chest.

“Daishou- I-“ you gasped when he bit down on your neck. It didn’t feel good at all, and was just a swearing pain.

“You know, it really is a shame that you’re related to those two.” He muttered against your skin. “You’re a pretty girl. Probably would’ve liked you had your shitty brothers not have been such dicks.”

“Please, please just get off-“ You sniffled. You fought your brothers all the time, so why couldn’t you get him off? Why were you tensing up? Why were you crying? Just push him off, just push and run.

“Shut up.” He muttered. He slipped his hand into your pants and you let out a sob.

“No, no! Get off of me! Stop!” You were crying now, your voice getting louder as you attempted to break from his hold.

Unfortunately, he was just too strong for you. He smacked you across the face and pressed his palm to your mouth.

“I told you to shut up.” He growled. “Blame the twins for this.”

You were sobbing now. Completely terrified as this man assaulted your body in this dark alley and all you could think about was how badly you wanted to get out of there. How badly you wished your brothers had spied on you, how much you wanted them to protect you in that moment.

Daishou glared at you as your wails got louder, pulling back and slapping you across the face so hard you thought you were seeing stars.

“That’s what happens when stupid girls like you don’t listen. Now be quiet!”

Your vision was blurred and dark and you thought you were about to pass out when you felt the weight of his body completely lifted off of you.

You immediately felt relief, not in the form of safety by any means but you felt like you could somewhat breathe again. The blow he’d given you to the head had you feeling dizzy and you sunk to the ground against the wall.

“You fucking-“ *whack*

“piece-“ *whack*

“of shit!” *whack*

You squinted your eyes open at the familiar voice. The same voice that had annoyed you earlier that afternoon. The voice that immediately gave you a sense of safety in that dark alley.

“Suna..?” You barely managed to squeak out. You were sure he didn’t hear you considering you could barely hear your own voice.

“You’re going to regret this for the rest of your life.” Suna spat, landing another punch directly to his face. “If you have issues with someone, take it up with them like a fucking man.” He growled. “Instead of preying on their little sister. You’re pathetic.”

Suna stood up off the ground and all you could do was watch through squinted eyes and your knees pulled to your chest.

He pulled something out of his pocket, it shined under the street lamps and you weren’t sure what it was. He grabbed Daishou by the collar of his shirt, forcing him to stand up before pressing the object against his throat.

“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t just kill you right here.”

You closed your eyes, covering your face in your arms when you heard Daishou start to sob. He sounded like you did a few minutes ago.

“I’d go to jail for her, no questions asked. Trust me when I tell you that I won’t hesitate.”

Suna was much bigger than him. Stronger. Taller.

“Hey,” Suna growled, pushing him against the brick wall. Daishou looked as light as a rag doll when Suna was throwing him around. “Answer me when I’m talking to you.”

“Please- I don’t- I’m sorry-“ Daishou choked out.

Suna laughed. A completely genuine laugh that made your skin crawl.

“Are you? Are you sorry?”

You looked back up at the two men, closer to you now and you could see that the object Suna had against his throat was a knife.

“Suna, wait-“ You tried to say to him, but your voice was still shaky and quiet.

Daishou was sobbing now, tears flowing from his eyes and wails ripping from his throat.

“Not so tough when you’re the one on the receiving end, huh?” Suna glared, putting his knife back in his pocket and throwing Daishou back onto the ground.

“Get the fuck out of here before I change my mind.” Suna said in a dark, low tone you hadn’t heard from him before. “And if you ever come near her again, I really will kill you.”

Daishou scrambled to his feet, holding his head and trying to stop the bleeding on his face that was surely from one of the rings Suna was wearing on his fingers.

You trembled against the wall, staring at Suna’s back as he watched Daishou leave. As soon as he was out of eyesight, he quickly turned to you and crouched down.

“Hey, it’s okay.” His voice softened, his gaze was kind and he hesitated before touching you. “Can I help you up? Can you stand?”

You nodded weakly and he crouched down, putting his arms under yours and standing you up. You could feel your legs wobbling and held onto his arm for support.

“Ugh,” He sighed, the pain in his voice coming through when he saw the true damage that’d been done to you. His hands carefully put you back together as best he could. He buttoned your shirt and pants back up, and shrugged off his jacket to put it on you instead.

You grabbed onto the sleeves and pulled them over your hands. It was even bigger than your brothers’ jackets, and you sunk into the soft material trying to grasp onto any little piece of comfort you could get.

Suna picked you up and held you against his chest. You wrapped your arms around his neck and he supported you from under your legs.

“How did you know where to find me?” You asked, your voice still quiet and strained.

“They told me what bus you were taking home so I came to make sure you got on okay. When it came and left without you I got worried and looked around, and then I heard you crying.” Suna let out a stressed out breath, “You know, I really would’ve done it.”

“I’m glad you didn’t.” You said, closing your eyes. You couldn’t even process what had just happened and didn’t know what you would’ve done if Suna wasn’t with you right now.

——

Suna’s house was only down the road, and you agreed to go there and get cleaned up before heading back home.

“Here,” Suna handed you a pair of comfortable pants and a t-shirt. “They’ll be way too long on you, but it’s better than your soaking wet clothes you’re wearing now.”

“Thanks…” you accepted the offer, stepping into the bathroom to change.

When you came out, Suna had changed too, but his eyes widened with shock when he saw the extent of your injuries.

He swore under his breath and approached you. When he reached out and touched your neck, his cool hand soothed the sting of the deep bite Daishou had embedded in your neck.

“Can’t believe he fucking bit you.” Suna’s voice was so quiet he was practically whispering, and you weren’t sure if he was talking to you or just thinking out loud. He trailed his hand around your throat and pressed his fingers on the deep bruises forming from when you’d been choked.

“That helps,” you sighed, leaning into his touch. Suna pulled his hand back as if he wasn’t even aware he’d been touching you.

“What do you want to do now? Should we call Osamu and Atsumu? Want me to take you home?” He placed his hands on your shoulders and continued looking you over. Suna brushed your hair out of the way, inspecting your face closely and grunting when he looked straight on at the black eye starting to appear.

You winced when his thumb grazed over the side of your head and he immediately pulled back.

“You were hit really hard. You should go to the hospital.”

You shook your head. “I don’t… I don’t want to go anywhere. Not right now, anyway.” You stepped over to his bed, sitting on the edge. “Can I just lie down?”

Suna nodded and pulled the blankets open, gesturing for you to crawl into his bed. He pulled the blankets on top of you and patted your arm.

“I’m just going to go into the kitchen to get a glass of water. I’ll shut the light off so you can rest a bit.”

The moment you couldn’t feel his presence in the room anymore, your mind travelled back to where you were earlier that night. Being attacked in a dark alley and suddenly you were feeling suffocated.

You sat up, gasping for air and Suna ran in, turning the light on and sitting next to you.

“Its okay, it’s okay,” He murmured, wrapping his arm around you and pulling you into him. He stroked your hair and let you cry out your fear as long as you needed to.

“I don’t…” You sniffled, “I don’t know what happened. When you left I just felt so scared all over again.”

“I’m sorry.” He said quietly, pressing his cheek against the top of your hair.

“Please don’t leave me alone.”

Suna nodded and stood up to go turn the light off again.

“Wait, where are you going?” You felt the panic start to take over again when the bed dipped down beside you.

“I’m right here.” His voice was kind. The Suna you’d known to always tease and annoy you had been replaced by something you could only describe as being your safety net.

Maybe this side of him was always here, and you just hadn’t ever noticed.

You laid back down beside him, moving close and nuzzling into his chest just like you had when he was carrying you. He wrapped his arms around you and softly trailed his hand up and down your back.

“I’ve got you, okay?” He whispered, “You’re safe with me. I promise. Just try and get some rest and we can worry about everything in the morning. You’ve been through enough tonight.”

You nodded and felt the relief wash over you. You knew you had a lot to deal with tomorrow, but having Suna by your side made it seem a little less scary.

Thinking back, he always was by your side. He would defend you when the twins would get too rough, and was definitely guilty of giving guys an intimidating glare when they’d try to hit on you.

You sighed, soaking in the feeling of his warmth.

You knew that from them on, you wanted nothing more than to be on his side.

And for him to stay on yours.

489 notes · View notes

sankyeom · 4 years ago

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tattle-tale | l.sy

pairings: lee sangyeon x reader genre: teacher au, tooth-rotting fluff summary: in which teacher!sangyeon has a crush on teacher!you and anonymously leaves little gifts for you on your desk, only to one day be caught by your entire class word count: 5.9k series: sankyeom’s 2k followers celebration

masterlist

You loved your job, you really did.

Teaching little kids all day long was an absolute joy for you. But if you said recess wasn’t your favourite time of the day, you’d definitely be lying. “Finally,” you groaned as you took a seat on a sofa in the teacher’s lounge, a large cup of coffee in your hand as you closed your eyes.

Sangyeon, Jacob and Hyunjae – three teachers at your school that you considered close friends – shared knowing smiles. “Rough morning?” Jacob asked.

“I love my students,” you said, eyes still closed. “But they can be little devils sometimes.”

Hyunjae burst into laughter as Jacob and Sangyeon grinned. “They can’t be that bad?”

You opened your eyes to observe your colleagues. “It’s Emma’s birthday today. She brought cake for the entire class, and they ate the entire thing within the first ten minutes of first period,” you recalled in a monotone voice.

Jacob winced. “Sugar rush?” he guessed.

“You have no idea,” you complained, having flashbacks to your students running around the classroom and causing absolute chaos. “I would literally kill for some coffee. Or at least maim.”

Hyunjae pointed at your mug. “What do you call that?” he teased.

“Terrible teacher lounge coffee that hasn’t been warm for, like, an hour,” you observed as you took a sip of your coffee. Then, you winced and pushed the mug away from you. “I may be desperate for a good caffeine fix, but I’m not that desperate,” you mumbled as you got up to toss the contents of your mug down the sink.

Sangyeon’s eyes trailed after your retreating figure, a mindless smile on his face as he observed the way you glared at your, now empty, mug in disgust as if it had betrayed you. His gaze drew towards Jacob when his colleague cleared his throat, a knowing look in his and Hyunjae’s eyes as Sangyeon gave them an innocent smile. “Are you ever going to ask her out?” Jacob asked with a lowered voice.

Although he knew he had been caught, Sangyeon still made his attempt at playing innocent. “Ask who out?”

Hyunjae rolled his eyes. “Don’t pretend. You’re a really bad liar and you’re just way too obviously in love with Teacher Y/n,” he said, imitating your students when they call out to you.

Despite his best efforts, Sangyeon couldn’t hide the blush that appeared on his cheeks. As he opened his mouth to protest, you took your seat on the sofa opposite the trio, muttering to yourself about terrible coffee. Noticing the shift in atmosphere, you raised an eyebrow at your colleagues. “Did something happen while I was gone?” you wondered.

“No,” the three men chorused, which only made you more suspicious of them. With a shrug, you dismissed their odd behaviour, deciding that it was best not to pursue your curiosity. “So Y/n, did you ever find out who your secret admirer is?” Hyunjae wondered.

A small pout appeared on your lips. “No,” you sighed, clasping your hands together to rest on your knees.

For a few months now, you had been receiving little gifts on your desk when you stepped out of your classroom for your breaks or free periods. At first, they were just little things that lifted your mood in the middle of the day; sticky notes with funny faces and encouraging quotes, or small gummy and snack packets to give you energy at the end of your long day.

Then, the gifts started becoming a little more personal.

A gift certificate to your favourite coffee chain, packs of stickers or staples that you just so happened to be running out of, muffins from your favourite bakery, and even a beautiful leather-bound journal that you had mentioned you wanted to a few friends and coworkers.

You didn’t know who the gifts were from, but you desperately wanted to meet them.

Not only did they brighten your day every single time you got a new gift, but they seemed to be presents that were specifically purchased for you.

“Has anybody else been getting gifts?” you inquired.

“Not as far as I know,” Jacob denied, Hyunjae and Sangyeon humming in agreement. “Besides, aren’t the gifts all perfect for you?”

You nodded. “Most of them are things that I vaguely mentioned, or silently pined after. Sometimes they’re just little pick-me-ups like snacks, but they still seem to know my taste perfectly.”

Jacob smiled. “That’s kind of romantic,” he mused, causing Sangyeon to choke on the water he had been sipping. He coughed, leaning forward to place his mug down, and covered his mouth as he tried to catch his breath. You, Hyunjae and Jacob gave him looks of concern, which he immediately waved off.

“I’m good,” Sangyeon assured the three of you. “You-“ he coughed. “You think it’s romantic?”

“Of course!” Jacob said cheerily. “Gifts that fit her taste without ever revealing who sent them… A secret admirer. Super romantic,” he assured his friend, sending him a subtle wink when you weren’t looking.

“I just wish I could repay them somehow,” you sighed. “I feel like they make my days easier and I don’t even have a way to thank them.”

“I’m sure they’ll reveal themselves with time,” Hyunjae told you, probably in an attempt to cheer you up. “Maybe they’re just a little shy.”

“Maybe,” you echoed half-heartedly. The bell rung, indicating that recess was over and class would start again in five minutes.

“Coming?” Sangyeon asked, standing up to walk you to your classroom. Your classrooms were in the same corridor, even though Sangyeon taught fourth grade and you taught second.

You shook your head. “My kids have Gym right now, so I have a free,” you said. “I have some grading to do, so I’m just going to hang out here.”

“Not going to hunt for a better cup of coffee?” Sangyeon teased, copying the horrified face you made when you took a sip of the cold teacher’s lounge coffee.

With a laugh, you merely shook your head. “I’m too lazy to leave campus. Plus, I should probably cut down on my caffeine consumption anyway.”

“Right,” Hyunjae nodded. “I’ll remind you of that in three hours when it’s lunchtime and you’re completely worn-out from your seven-year-old students,” he said, saluting you in lieu of a goodbye. You waved to him, Jacob and Sangyeon as they left the lounge, taking out your bag to get to grading your students’ tests.

Since they were only second graders, the grading wasn’t exactly difficult, just time-consuming. By the time the bell rang to indicate Gym class had ended, you had just finished all of their maths tests. After stretching, you made your way over to your classroom so that you could be there before your students changed after Gym class.

Entering your classroom, you could already feel a bit of fatigue kicking in, and you cursed yourself for not getting a cup of coffee after all. Before you could wallow in your regret any further, you noticed the paper take-away cup on your desk. The bright blue sticky note on the cup instantly brought a smile to your face.

Don’t let the little devils wear you down too much. x

You picked the cup up, delighted that the coffee was still warm to the touch and relishing in the taste as you took a sip. “Secret admirer, you must be from heaven,” you muttered, grateful that your secret admirer had gone out of their way to make sure you were properly caffeinated.

“Teacher Y/n!” someone shouted, barreling into your classroom. Several students trailed behind, giving you similar greetings coupled with large beams.

“How was Gym?” you asked, putting your coffee down and listening to your students’ excited stories about who won the dodgeball game that day. “Well while you guys were having fun, I was working very hard to grade your math tests! Do you want to see how you did?”

Their cheers were enough for you to burst into laughter as you took their papers out of your test. “Teacher Y/n,” one of your students, Minho, raised his hand with big eyes.

The sight was absolutely adorable. “Yes, Minho?” you smiled.

“What did your secret Santa give you today?” he asked.

“Secret Santa is for Christmas time,” you corrected. “The person leaving me presents is just a nice friend,” you explained.

“Okay,” Minho nodded, eagerly absorbing your words. “What did your nice friend give you?”

“Something warm to drink,” you explained, pointing in the direction of your take-away cup before handing the seven-year-old his test back. “The teacher’s lounge has coffee but the coffee from my friend is from my favourite store.”

“Do we know your friend?” Sana, a little girl who always wore pigtails and a huge smile, asked.

“I think so,” you mused. “They work here at school.”

“Who is it?” she wondered. “Is it your boyfriend?”

You laughed. “It’s not my boyfriend,” you assured Sana. “I actually don’t know who it is yet. It’s a mystery.”

“Like Sherlock Holmes,” Minho piped up.

“Yes, like Sherlock Holmes,” you agreed.

“We can try and solve the mystery together, then!” the boy decided. “We just need to look at the clues.”

“Alright,” you allowed, having finished handing out the tests. “We can do that after we go over this test. Does anybody have any questions on the test that they didn’t understand?”

“That’s adorable,” Hyunjae laughed as you told him, Sangyeon, and Jacob about your students’ interest in your secret admirer. The four of you were sat outside at one of the picnic tables to enjoy the last few days of sunshine that autumn had to offer you. “Did they come up with anything?”

“They actually did,” you admitted. Sangyeon’s back straightened abruptly, curious about what your students figured out. “They decided that it’s definitely a teacher.”

“Really?” Sangyeon exclaimed, earning a weird look from Jacob and Hyunjae. “What makes them think that?”

“Well, I always get a little post-it note with all of my gifts,” you explained with a laugh. “And who uses post-it notes?”

“Teachers,” your three colleagues chorused.

“That’s pretty decent detective work,” Jacob complimented.

“My class certainly liked to think so,” you allowed, amused. “Anyway, my theory is that the admirer really is a teacher,” you added. “I doubt anyone other than other teachers have heard me talk about my favourite cafe, or which of my stationary is running low. I only ever talk about those kind of things in the teacher’s lounge or when I’m on lunch duty.”

“Sherlock Holmes indeed,” Hyunjae grinned, eyes crinkling at the outer corners. “Any theories on who it is?”

You sighed, shoulder drooping. “None at all,” you confessed. “Makes me feel kind of pathetic.”

“Hey, you’re not pathetic,” Jacob denied, putting his hand on your shoulder. “A little slow? Maybe. But certainly not pathetic,” you laughed, pleased at Jacob’s attempt to make you feel better.

“Teacher Y/n!” you heard Sana’s familiar voice as she ran up to you from the playground, her best friend Emma trailing after her.

“Hi girls,” you greeted. “Are you enjoying your lunch?” the two girls nodded.

“Emma, it’s your birthday today, isn’t it?” Sangyeon recalled from your rant at recess. The girl’s eyes lit up at his question, prompting her to nod her head excitedly.

“I’m turning eight,” she told him proudly.

Sangyeon beamed at her excitement, a fond look in his eyes. “Well I hope you have a wonderful birthday, Emma. You’ll have to tell me what presents you get when you come to school tomorrow,” he asked, which she immediately agreed to.

“I will, Teacher Sangyeon!” she promised.

Suddenly impatient, Sana crossed her arms. “Teacher Y/n, is Teacher Jacob your nice friend?” she wondered, pointing to where Jacob sat across from you.

“He’s a nice teacher friend, but he’s not the one who’s leaving me gifts,” you explained to the two girls. “Why do you ask?”

“We saw him touch your shoulder,” Sana explained. “We thought that meant he was your nice friend.”

“Sadly, you have the wrong guy,” Jacob said with a shrug. “But I’m going to try to help Teacher Y/n to find out who her nice teacher friend is. You guys already did a great job at helping her,” he added. Sana and Emma looked proud at the thought before they said their goodbyes, rushing off to grab the vacant swings before anybody else did.

“They’re so cute,” Hyunjae almost whined. “Why did I decide to teach sixth grade? Those kids aren’t cute anymore, they’re just savage.”

You grinned at the idea of Hyunjae being lightheartedly bullied by his twelve-year-old students. “You adore those kids, don’t lie to me,” you retorted. “And they’re still plenty cute.”

“They’re not that cute in sixth grade,” he denied, pointing in the direction Emma and Sana went. “And they don’t look at me with big, adorable eyes, or cling on to every word I say.”

“That’s just Y/n,” Sangyeon told them, smiling to himself as he dug into lunch. “My students are just two years older, and they don’t do any of those things to me.”

“You’re being modest,” you argued. “Emma looked at you like you told her she was the most special girl in the world when you remembered her birthday.”

“Maybe because it’s her birthday,” Sangyeon allowed, looking up from his food to smile at you. “But they look at you like that every single day. And it’s not just your students, either.”

His compliment made you blush.

The gifts started coming on a daily basis after the day you got a cup of coffee.

Almost every time you had a free period, a fresh cup of coffee would wait for you when you returned to your classroom, and sometimes baked treats from your favourite bakery would accompany it.

You tried staying in your classroom to see who your gift fairy was, but on days you stayed your admirer never came. It was almost as if they knew every move you were making; like they had heard it before or could somehow read your mind.

“Is one of you giving out my plans?” you questioned your colleagues one day.

Hyunjae simply raised an eyebrow at you. “Explain.”

So you did: “I feel like my secret admirer is always a step ahead of me,” you mumbled. “If I ever wait for them, they don’t show up, and if I send students ahead to wait in the classroom, they still don’t show up. I don’t know how they do it.”

“Maybe it’s one of us,” Jacob said, causing Sangyeon to send a small kick to his ankle as a warning. Hyunjae snorted, covering it up by pretending to cough. “Have you ever considered that?”

“I hadn’t, actually,” you realised absent-mindedly. “But if it was one of you guys then you’d just tell me.”

“Sure,” Hyunjae nodded. “Eventually.”

“Right,” you said, as if this was enough evidence to suggest it couldn’t be Hyunjae, Jacob, or Sangyeon. “So I’m back to square one.”

The bell rang, indicating the end of recess, and you stood up to go back to your classroom. “I love art class,” you sighed as you waved your goodbyes to Hyunjae and Jacob, and made your way to your classroom with Sangyeon. “It’s the only time they get to be rowdy and excited and I don’t have to make them calm down.”

Sangyeon laughed. “Sounds nice,” he agreed.

“What do you have next?” you asked.

“I’m free, actually,” Sangyeon said. “I always have a free after recess.”

“How come you’re always rushing off, then?” you wondered, since he had never sat with you in the teacher’s lounge during recess.

“I use it as my lesson-planning time, which I prefer to do in my classroom because I’m always forgetting little things that I need,” he admitted.

“Well you should hang out with me in the lounge some time,” you offered. “It has terrible coffee but I hear I’m pretty good company,” you joke, stopping at your classroom.

“I might take you up on that,” Sangyeon grinned, winking at you before he made his way to his classroom a few doors down.

You cursed yourself for feeling shy at his wink. Sure, Sangyeon was incredibly handsome. But you had enough to worry about with your secret admirer; you didn’t need a schoolgirl crush on one of your closest colleagues to top it all off.

You sighed. “Control yourself, Y/n,” you muttered to yourself, entering your classroom and starting to hand out the worksheets for the period.

You regretted ever saying that you loved art class.

After a sugar-filled recess, your class was more hyper than you had ever seen them and there was nothing that could be done to stop them. You had attempted multiple times to get them to listen to music or talk quietly, even going as far as to threaten them with staying on after lunch time to make up for the time lost during art class. You were about to lose your patience out of pure irritation and frustration when a knock sounded on the door of your classroom.

Sangyeon’s head popped in, a look of mild concern on his face. “Y/n, is everything okay?” he asked.

“Not really,” you admitted, running a hand through your hair in an attempt to curb your oncoming headache. “They won’t calm down. I’ve tried literally everything I can think of.”

“Mind if I give it a try?” he asked, earning an enthusiastic nod and a grateful smile from you. Sangyeon let himself in and stood at the front of the room. “Hi everyone!” he greeted loudly, causing your students to start to quiet down at the sight of a new face. “Thanks for waiting to start art class until I came,” he smiled, as if he was supposed to be there all along. “I’m Teacher Sangyeon from the fourth grade class down the hall.”

“He teaches big kids,” you heard Emma whisper to her desk mate. Cute.

“Teacher Y/n was just telling me how advanced and mature her second graders are. She even thought that I could come and teach them a little bit of fourth grade art since you’re all so far ahead,” Sangyeon complimented.

Gasps rang around the room, and you couldn’t be more grateful to him in that moment. “But you guys were pretty noisy when I came in. I’m not sure if you guys are really mature enough,” he trailed off, a look of concern on his face.

“We are!” Sana exclaimed, shushing her classmates with a stern expression. “We promise we are!”

“Well...” Sangyeon pretended to think for a moment. “If you guys can promise to be calm and good listeners, maybe I can still teach you like I teach fourth grade art. But only if you’re well behaved.”

In that moment, you were almost as entranced by Sangyeon as your students were.

Sangyeon took their silence as a promise and made his way over to your whiteboard, writing down his name and a few bullet points down. Then, he began to talk about being in the fourth grade and how different things would be from the second grade. He spoke with an air of confidence and kindness that made you realise why he became a teacher, and why all of his students loved him so much.

He was patient and informative without being condescending, and he took any questions and comments happily at any given moment. Sangyeon was definitely in his element, and it made him glow with relaxed joy.

You had always thought Sangyeon was attractive, but this was on a different level. He commanded the attention of all of your students and the way he just swooped in, giving up his entire free period to help you, made your heart swell with something akin to admiration. Sangyeon had your students giggling at his cheesy comments, and you found yourself smiling along with them, just as enchanted by him as your students were.

When he was done teaching, your students looked at him in awe and their eyes were dripping with respect and admiration. He dismissed them to lunch with your approval, and you practically leapt onto him when all your students left.

“Woah, what did I do to deserve that?” he wondered, wrapping his arms around you to return your hug nonetheless.

“Saved my class, and myself from a migraine,” you replied, sighing in relief. “Thank you, Sangyeon. Really. I can’t even begin to tell you how much I appreciate this,” you acknowledged, squeezing your eyes shut to relish in the hug. Sangyeon tightened his grip on you and sighed back, butterflies fluttering around his stomach.

Maybe he should just tell you that he’s your secret admirer, he considered.

“Of course, Y/n. You know that I’m always here if you need anything,” he said instead, pulling away from your hug to offer you a genuine smile. He wasn’t ready yet.

“I do,” you agreed with a nod. “And I can help you out anytime as well. Thank you. Let me buy you coffee or something as a proper thank you,” you offered, grabbing your bag without letting him reply.

“Not everyone is as obsessed with caffeine as you are,” Sangyeon retorted, gently nudging you with his hip to tease you.

“Hey, until they start selling it in an IV bag, I’m going to have to get my caffeine the old fashion way. C’mon, coffee shop three blocks away. My treat,” you smiled hopefully, holding up your wallet to jokingly entice him.

Sangyeon broke out into a large smile, eyes shaped like crescent moons. “I would love that,” he agreed, starting to erase his notes on the whiteboard as you clapped.

You watched him. “Your handwriting is beautiful,” you complimented, seeing the letters disappear. “I feel like I’ve seen it before,” you thought aloud, wondering why it looked so familiar.

“Really?” Sangyeon said, eyes wide as he sped up his process of erasing his lettering. “Probably in the yearbook or something.”

“Probably,” you dismissed the thought with a smile. “Now let’s go get our coffee on.”

After Sangyeon saved your art class, and your head from a brutal migraine, he started spending more time with you during your mutual free periods. Usually, you sat in silence in the teacher’s lounge as you did any grading or class prep that needed to be done, but with Sangyeon’s presence, your free periods were much more colourful and laidback.

Sangyeon had a lighthearted way about him; everything he said was assuring kind, and didn’t fail to make your heart flutter. Usually, you only ever spent time with Sangyeon when Jacob and Hyunjae were around, but being alone with Sangyeon was a different situation entirely. You had always known he was handsome and considerate, but he exuded a different kind of energy when he wasn’t surrounded by your friends.

As he sat next to you at one of the tables in the teacher’s lounge before the school day started, you couldn’t help but admire his profile; he was practically flawless. He had a long, slender nose and high cheekbones that made Sangyeon look more angular than soft. His deep brown eyes and pillow-soft lips-

“Y/n?” you snapped out of your trail of thoughts, realising that you had been blatantly staring at your coworker. Sangyeon gave you a concerned look. “You okay?”

“Oh, I’m fine!” you promised, clearing your throat and adjusting your shirt to give your hands something to do. “Sorry. What were you saying?”

The bell chimed, indicating that the school day would begin soon. You and Sangyeon stood up from your chairs and started collecting your papers. “I was just saying that I can’t stay with you during my free, I have some errands to run,” he explained, giving you a wave before he ran off to grab something from his car before class started.

You rose an eyebrow. “I don’t have a free today,” you mumbled to yourself, making your way to your classroom to start your first period class.

Sangyeon grinned, lifting the flower bouquet in his hand to smell the fragrant flowers once more, relishing in their sweet scent. You had told him about a little flower shop nearby that you noticed the other day, but you couldn’t bring yourself to buy yourself flowers because it felt a little embarrassing. Since you had a free today, Sangyeon figured it would be the perfect time to buy you some flowers and give them to you.

Anonymously, of course.

As Sangyeon snuck past the teacher’s lounge, he saw your bag on one of the chairs and quickened his steps so that you wouldn’t spot him as he made his way to your classroom. Checking the hallway, Sangyeon entered your classroom as quietly as he could as to not alert any other classes of his presence.

As carefully as he could, Sangyeon closed the door behind him and let out a relieved sigh when it silently shut. Smiling, he turned around to put the flowers on your desk.

Only to be met with the little faces of your entire class.

Sangyeon’s mouth fell open in shock, his eyes widening simultaneously as he realised the situation.

“Teacher Sangyeon,” Emma exclaimed, waving excitedly at him. “What are you doing here?”

“Um, hi class,” Sangyeon greeted awkwardly, making his way towards your desk. “I’m just leaving Teacher Y/n a little surprise, that’s all.”

Minho gasped. “You’re her nice friend that’s leaving her presents!” he realised, pointing his little finger at Sangyeon.

Knowing he was caught, Sangyeon nodded, hurriedly pulling a blue post-it note from his shirt pocket and writing you a little message to go with your flowers. “Yes, I am. But I would really like it if you guys could keep it a secret between us?” he pleaded. “Since I know you guys are so mature and clever.”

He knew that appealing to seven-year-olds’ will to be grown up was a low blow, but he didn’t have much time before you would return to your class.

“Of course,” Sana nodded her head. “We’ll keep your secret. Teacher Y/n is looking for her bag, she’ll be back any minute now!”

Sangyeon thanked her for her warning, giving your students a little wave before he darted out of the classroom and rushed to his own.

That was close. And he was probably screwed.

“Okay class, thank you so much for being patient,” you exclaimed, entering your classroom with your bag. “I’m sorry I left you guys to grab my bag but I’m so proud of you all being so mature and understanding,” you buttered up your students, feeling guilty for running around school like a mad person trying to find your bag.

“Teacher Y/n!” Minho raised his hand as far in the air as he could. “We know who your nice friend is!”

You froze in place from where you were writing on the whiteboard, knowing exactly who he was talking about. “You do?” you echoed.

“Hey,” Sana cried out. “We’re not supposed to tell!”

That’s interesting. You knew that if whoever your secret admirer was had convinced your class to keep their identity a secret, it meant that your class trusted and respected them.

“I don’t care,” Minho retorted, crossing his arms. “We’re supposed to be Sherlock Holmes and help Teacher Y/n, remember?”

You smiled; those kids were truly too cute.

“Oh,” Sana seemed to be struggling with making up her mind. “Well, I suppose you’re right. We did promise Teacher Y/n first.”

“Was my nice friend here?” you asked, spotting the bouquet of flowers on your desk, accompanied by the usual blue post-it note you received with all your gifts.

“He was,” Minho nodded. “Teacher Sangyeon came while we were waiting for you and he brought your flowers.”

Something fluttered in your stomach, excitement at the revelation of your secret admirer making your heart pound just slightly faster. “He did?” you said, so quietly it was almost a whisper.

“And he wrote you a note with a blue post-it!” Emma added. “We were right! Your nice friend is a teacher.”

You smiled, picturing Sangyeon trying to convince your students to keep his secret. He must have snuck in because he thought I had a free period, you realised. “Well, you guys are very good detectives,” you complimented. “Just like Sherlock Holmes.”

When you dismissed your students for lunch, you couldn’t help but sit at your desk as they all filed out to admire the flowers. It was a beautiful mixture of white roses, pink peonies, and beautiful green and purple wildflowers. The post-it note must have been more rushed than usual, because it had a simple message that said he hoped you liked the flowers instead of their usual buttery, warm message of encouragement.

No wonder Sangyeon’s handwriting looked so familiar, you thought as you traced the letters on the post-it note with your pointer finger. The loops of his lettering perfectly replicated those that were written on the whiteboard when he helped you with your art class a few weeks ago.

After assigning your students their work for the last class, you couldn’t help your mind from wandering to Sangyeon, and how you should confront him about being your secret admirer. Making up your mind, you got up from your chair and plucked the flowers and post-it note from your desk before exiting your classroom and walking down the hall.

Knocking on the door of Sangyeon’s classroom, you waited patiently for him to greet you at the door. “Y/n,” his eyes lit up when he recognised that it was you. “Come in, you don’t need to knock,” Sangyeon ushered you in, opening to door for you.

“Thanks,” you smiled, stepping inside. “So, I got another gift from my admirer,” you told him, holding up the flowers. “If I can even call them an admirer.”

“Why shouldn’t they admire you,” Sangyeon said with a small shrug, moving to wipe his whiteboard.

“Say,” you began, holding up the post-it note. “This looks a lot like your handwriting.”

Sangyeon dropped the whiteboard eraser with a loud clatter, cursing quietly before apologising for the noise and going to pick it up. “Oh, um, really?” he wondered, panic rising in his chest.

“Really,” you confirmed, making your way next to him and holding up the post-it for you both to compare to the white board. “See? Your lettering is super similar,” you said, as if you didn’t already know that Sangyeon was your secret admirer.

“Huh,” Sangyeon hummed. “Weird.”

“Isn’t it?” you agreed, smiling. “These flowers are beautiful though, aren’t they?”

Feeling nervous, Sangyeon only gave you a weak smile. “As long as you think so…”

“They’re from that little flower shop I was telling you about the other day,” you told him, recognising the name of the shop on the ribbon that held the bouquet together. “Isn’t that ironic? That they got the flowers from there.”

“Well it’s only a few blocks away so I’m sure other people know about it,” Sangyeon retorted, pretending to go through the papers on his desk to act as if his heart wasn’t beating at the sound of a tuba.

“I also got coffee from my favourite cafe, pastries from my favourite bakery, and any piece of stationary that I complained to you about being low on,” you listed off the different gifts you had received.

Sangyeon opened his mouth to retort, but when he lifted his head to meet your eyes, he knew immediately that he had been caught. “You know, don’t you?” Sangyeon mumbled, red flushing the tips of his cheeks and ears.

“Minho ratted you out,” you confessed, not wanting to take credit for figuring it out.

Sangyeon laughed. “Tattle-tale,” he muttered, eyes gleaming with mischief. “So you were just having fun, teasing me as if you were figuring it all out right in front of me?”

“Hey,” you exclaimed. “I figured the handwriting thing out on my own.”

“Really?”

“No. I just connected the dots after Minho told on you,” you admit, shrugging your shoulders. Sangyeon chuckled, picturing your class telling on him as you lean back against his desk. “I’m glad it’s you,” you revealed, making Sangyeon smile shyly at you.

“How come?” he wondered.

“Well, you’re pretty cute,” you teased, earning an eye-roll from Sangyeon. “And you’re just… I don’t know. You’re really special. The way you interact with your students and how you never fail to give up your free time to help me, or keep me company…” you trailed off, noticing how a more serious expression fell across Sangyeon’s face. “Why didn’t you tell me that it’s you?”

“I didn’t know if you wanted it to be me,” Sangyeon said, tucking his hands into his pant pockets. “You’re one of the most loved teachers at this school, by the students and the faculty. You’re funny, and kind, and beautiful, and I thought you were out of reach.”

“I’m not out of reach,” you shook your head, moving closer to the brunet man. “Not at all.”

“And you’re really happy that it’s me?” he wondered.

“Hm,” you pretended to think. “Let me get back to you on that one,” you teased. “Yes Sangyeon, I’m really happy that it’s you.” Sangyeon beamed, pleased with your response. “That’s your cue.”

“My cue?” he asked.

“Yes, your cue,” you emphasised, trailing your hands up his chest to play with his tie. An understanding look filled his eyes and Sangyeon leant down to kiss you, closing his eyes as you felt each other’s breath against your faces.

The door to Sangyeon’s classroom opened noisily.

“Yo, we were just-“ Hyunjae’s shriek cut off Jacob’s words as the pair realised the position that you and Sangyeon were in.

“Guys, you can’t do that during school hours!” Hyunjae exclaimed, looking scandalised. “Jacob, I’ll cover your eyes and you cover mine,” he said dramatically, causing the two of them to flail about in an attempt to cover each other’s eyes with their hands.

You rolled your eyes, releasing Sangyeon’s tie and leaning back with a sigh. Sangyeon gave you a sheepish smile but cast your friends an exasperated look. “You guys are lame,” you accused.

Jacob laughed, releasing Hyunjae. “So you finally figured it out?”

“I wish. Some little tattle-tales told me all about it after catching him,” you motion to Sangyeon.

Hyunjae cackled. “Genius. C’mon, let’s get lunch. I’m starving,” he moved on quickly, uninterested in your new relationship with Sangyeon. “No kissing on school grounds, either. Let’s go,” he cheered, marching out with Jacob in tow.

You laughed, always amused by your coworkers and friends. “Let’s get lunch,” you agreed with Hyunjae, sending Sangyeon a smile.

As you moved away, Sangyeon caught your arm and gently pulled you back. “School hours are over in two periods,” he reminded you with a cheeky smile.

“Dinner?” you offered, earning a nod.

“I’d be crazy not to go,” Sangyeon exaggerated. “You’re paying, though. I’ve bought you enough food and drinks to last at least a few dinner dates,” he winked.

Laughing, you nodded, pulling him out of his classroom by his hand. “It’s a deal.”

note: the first fic in my 2k followers celebration event is up!! i’m so excited to see what you guys think about it, please let me know and thank you again for 2,000 followers 💛🌻

#the boyz #the boyz imagines #sangyeon #sangyeon imagines #sangyeon x reader #the boyz x reader #the boyz scenarios #the boyz fanfic #deobiwritersnet #tbznetwork #lee sangyeon #the boyz fic #the boyz fluff #the boyz au #the boyz drabbles #fic: tattle-tale #2k celebration

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iphoenixrising · 3 years ago

Text

DickTimWeek2021 Day 2

** Day 2: Time Loop | Jealousy | Stray AU

Welp. Time to break some hearts.

They’re laughing like assholes as they climb through Timmy’s penthouse windows.

“Did you see that thug punch himself in the face?”

“That’s the right way to get out of an ass beating by the Batman.”

Tim, still in Red Robin, doesn’t even bother, just lets his knees buckle so he can slide down to the floor and laugh until tears are rolling down the dominio still plastered on his face.

He’s riding the concussion train with

(J)

Josephine and she’s not as bad as some of them are.

Dick at least tosses the gloves and gauntlets before hauling Timmy’s bruised ass up off the floor, throwing the arm around his shoulders.

“C’mon, you butt. Really Timmy, just laying here in your suit? Alfred would be appalled.”

“S’why I don’t go to the Manor much anymore.”

“Ooh, I’m telling. You’re going to be in so much trouble,” as he gets Tim down the hallway to the bathroom.

“Y-You can’t! You’re the oldest! Dami’s supposed to be the tattle-tale!”

“Nu-uh. As the oldest, I can do whatever the hell I want.”

And does he tell on Timmy? You bet your ass he does.

It’s nice when Alfred can look at someone else in the family with extreme disappointment.

Tim comes by the Manor the day Alfred video chats him, shuffles down to the Cave behind the butler and absolutely sticks his tongue out at Dick’s smarmy grin.

His apartment is a literal mess and Dick can’t be bothered to do much more than flop on the overstuffed couch with a groan.

Still in his uni from the day shift, he’s too bruised and battered and tired to even think of suiting up for the night. He’s been running himself ragged for two months, the day and night shifts blending together along with the usual bullshit of daily human life, and he desperately needs a night of terrible television, junk food, and snuggles.

Like he’d been reading the room, Timmy walks out of his bathroom, towel around his shoulder and hair just this side of damp.

“Hey, you made it home in one piece.” Tim’s long fingers in his hair literally pulls a noise out of Dick he can’t ever remember making.

“Yeah, I drove down because you looked like death warmed over when we talked last weekend. Luckily for you I went grocery shopping, did a few loads of your laundry, and cleaned up a little so you don’t have to worry about housework.”

“I love you. Have I told you that recently? Like, so, so much–” is muffled by the couch cushions, but he thinks Tim can probably still make it all out.

“Mmhm, I know,” and the gentle scratching against his scalp doesn’t stop, and Dick goes a little boneless with it. “I even brought my Roku so we can binge watch terrible television while you eat something more substantial than cereal. Alfred is going to be so proud of you.”

A pat to his head and Timmy is off, slinging his towel on the rack, turning on the shower again to make sure it’s nice and hot for all those bruises and contusions.

He’s no-nonsense about picking up his previous mentor and best friend, literally stripping him down and manhandling him in the shower after a low whistle at the span of blue/black across Dick’s chest and ribs, the scrapes across his back and shoulders.

The first aid kit tackle box makes an appearance because Tim plans for literally everything ever, and Dick finds himself sitting on his sink wearily while his injuries are meticulously treated.

He knows he eats something super tasty with meat and vegetables, his belly full, before Tim pulls him down on the couch and lets Dick lay against his chest, between his legs to sleepily float while watching God-awful B-movies.

It’s the most relaxing weekend he’s had in a while.

Dami sneers at Tim, arms crossed over his chest, the expression on his face begging Tim to try to deny it.

The third Robin however, is looking over at Dick with horror that the big secret is finally out in the open.

“Th-that isn’t– it’s not–” Tim fumbles desperately, “he’s been my big brother forever, that’s it!”

“Tt. Grayson may be painfully oblivious, Drake, but the rest of us are detectives. Even Todd knows of your feelings and he rarely even comes to the Manor!”

Tim’s soul literally leaves his body.

Dick blinks, completely taken back, mouth open without anything coming out.

Damian raises his eyes skyward and prays for patients dealing with these two. “What I am saying,” he tries, he really is trying here, “is that you two must cease and desist this pointless–” vague hand wave– “pining for one another. It is getting to the point of absurdity. I demand you two either discuss your need for one another or take this ridiculous mooning elsewhere. The rooftops of Gotham is no place for this,” another hand wave, “utter nonsense.”

Tim’s mouth goes dry, subtly backing away to be closer to the Ducati’s waiting for tonight’s ride. He’s pretty sure he has enough energy left in his shaky knees to hop on one and be the fuck out of the Cave before his face literally bursts into flames.

But, well. Dick was Batman.

His strategic retreat is stomped into the ground by acrobatic leaps and a very well done joint lock to keep him from immediately taking off.

Dami scoffs at them on his way up the winding staircase. He stops Pennyworth on the way and turns the butler to return back into the Manor proper, citing those two needed time to figure themselves out.

After several weeks under deep cover, Nightwing wearily hacks into Titan’s Tower and makes his way through the maze of hallways until he hits a hidden panel.

Tim is sleeping on his desk, only one empty coffee mug at his workstation. Even dead in his boots, Nightwing can take a second just to look, just to sigh, just to enjoy how much every inch of this boy is his.

He journeys down the hall, flips the bed covers up, carries his sleeping partner in and tucks the blankets around him, a quickly there kiss to the top of messy, too-long hair. A shower in Tim’s perch literally makes everything in life a little less awful and exhausting, not enough for him to do much more than crawl in bed against Tim’s warm body and snuggle up close.

He gets breakfast in bed and blue-violet eyes looking at him with fondness rather than awe, gets coffee flavored kisses and a slow-paced back rub that continues down to his thighs and calves and feet. Later, he gets a date night in a nice restaurant and a sweet San Fran club scene for dessert. He gets to let loose and hold Tim’s body against him, to play them both until the gazes are intense and the low key UST between them makes other people on the dance floor give them space.

Witty banter is a primary weapon against megalomaniacal bad guys of any flavor. For some former Robins, it’s an art form.

Over the years, they’ve cultivated their dip and distraction to bounce off one another like a well-oiled vigilante machine.

It should have been a standard take-down because it’s not one of their more dangerous, deadly villains. It’s not one of the Rogue Gallery baddies. It’s not one of the mobster families, not one of the super powered groups come to call. It’s not someone with hordes of thugs and deadly science waiting to take them down.

It’s a simple B&E, just Nightwing talking it up to draw gunfire while Red Robin is creeping up from behind to get the last laugh.

It’s one of a thousand times they’ve done this.

It’s a guaranteed win.

It’s the last hour of patrol before they get to go back to Red’s penthouse and snuggle together, eat and show, probably have some fantastic sex before passing out.

The .45 shell, however, cuts through the suit, between armored plates.

Going after the running baddies is automatic, taking them down, zip ties, and viola. They’re ready for GCPD to pick-up, all kinds of gift-wrapped.

When N finally realizes Red isn’t with him, isn’t answering comms, isn’t waiting for him on the roof, he goes back inside. He hits up B for a ride in the big car in case he missed –

– anything.

The pool of blood around Red Robin is more than he can afford to lose, and Nightwing has been in the vigilante life for over twenty years, has been official with Red Robin for a little over two, has personal experience on how his Baby Bird can take a mostly-fatal beating and still keep moving. He’s seen Tim come close with the Clench, with horrifying injuries, with any of the many bad guys they fight holding him hostage.

Nightwing has seen him perform literal miracles.

And tells him so the entire time he’s got Red Robin up in his arms, carrying him through Gotham’s skyline to the waiting car, falling in with Red on his lap when the familiar hatch slides back, the tourniquet already applied before he even shot a grapple. The struggling pulse is enough of a concern to get it together.

And even if they all gather to strip off the suit, and now it’s on to get vitals back to an acceptable range. Even if the Bats cry overhead, even if the equipment is top notch in the Cave, even if Dick is still talking the whole time, and Alfred is keeping a cool head and Bruce is gripping a hand and Damian is standing at the ready to hand implements and Cass is biting her thumbnail while she hovers and Steph is moving from empty space to empty space around the gurney –

The consistent beep of the flatline cuts through it all.

The Titans make it for the service.

Each of them make a point to hug Dick for as long as possible, holding on tightly.

Bruce is silent and stoic, a little boy again when he has to watch someone else he loves being lowered into the cold, unforgiving ground. Another Robin taking a piece of his heart to the afterlife.

Steph is red-eyed, a ghost moving around to individual circles, listening to stories she might not have known.

Cass grips the coffin with bruised knuckles, her whole body wound tight as a string ready to snap. She doesn’t move the entire service, is already convinced leaving him to his own devices caused this whole thing. She doesn’t blame the thugs or Dick or Bruce. She blames the boy that never understood how much it all means.

Duke Thomas is back in Gotham, taking leave from the Outsiders to be here for the family that took him in after the Joker drove his parents insane. He hovers in the doorway to welcome mourners, direct them toward the book to sign-in, talks about Tim Drake with regular humans and other metas in disguise, accepts condolences with his throat tight and his eyes watery. He makes sure Dick has a bottle of water after the first hour, pats Damian’s shoulder, grips Bruce’s arm, weaves an arm around Cassandra’s back to give her a squeeze, obediently looks at the old pictures of Tim on Steph’s photo roll when she’s overcome and has to see that smile again.

In the back, Jason Todd wears dark shades and a clean black suit. Roy Harper is beside him, a hand on the broad back to keep him grounded, to keep the Pit rage at bay. If anyone knows how far Tim and Jason had come over the years, it’s the former Red Arrow. If anyone knows how much agony Jason is in at this moment, at another fallen brother, another Robin gone, if anyone had held the Red Hood while he screamed and cried and broke the utter fuck down, it’s Roy Harper.

Damian Wayne hovers right by Grayson’s side, silently supporting his first Batman, his first brother. Whenever Dick’s eyes start going hazy, glazing over, Damian gently grips a wrist to bring him back, allows fingers to lace through his own and tolerates the tight squeeze that obviously assists in grounding the oldest Robin.

(Later when the night is crowding grief-stricken Wayne Manor, Damian will be the one to open Grayson’s bedroom door, lift the covers to crawl in behind him, to wind both arms tightly. He will be the one to take the onslaught of grief, to be soaked in tears and snot, to listen to the broken, hoarse voice, to make soothing hums that ultimately mean nothing.)

Alfred Pennyworth quietly talks with the funeral director about the arrangements. Of course Master Timothy would want to be laid to rest with his parents, and the family appreciates all the support and ease of process as the deceased was an important part of the Wayne family.

When he gets a phone call, he firmly verifies the name on the tombstone is Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne Grayson.

Exactly four days after the service, the Flash is staring at him helplessly, gripping Nightwing’s arm tight, “please, please, Dick, don’t do this. You can’t think this is the answer!”

He can barely hear Wally with the absolute destruction going on around them, the machine they’d inadvertently stumbled upon (which is a lie, Nightwing had been looking for it and the Flash basically caught him red handed).

“You know you aren’t going to be able to stop me.” Standing between the glowing portal and Wally, debris from overhead crashing down on them at intervals, Nightwing is at his peak stubborn, “no matter how fast you are.”

“You don’t understand what’s going to happen,” Wally yells desperately as the vacuum starts pulling at Nightwing’s other arm, pulling him into–

–the Speed Force.

“You don’t have the lightning, Dick, you won’t be able to get yourself out, and I won’t have any way of tracking you!”

The small smirk as the machine’s panel starts going haywire, lights blinking and readings off the charts, makes Wally’s heart clench hard in his chest, makes him try to dig in his heels, makes his stomach tremble.

“You have no idea how many times I’ve already done this, Wally. And I’ll do it as many times as it takes until I change everything.”

The pellet Nightwing palmed before the Flash grabbed his hand goes off the same time the machine hits the highest ratings and a low boom is followed up with an intense swirling suction, pulling the heroes closer to the portal’s surface.

The light grenade goes off without a hitch and the Flash has no choice but to let Nightwing go.

They’re laughing like assholes as they climb through Timmy’s penthouse windows.

#dicktimweek2021 #dicktim #dick grayson #tim drake #sad times #time loop #winter writes #my ficlet

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