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secretswiftymarvelfan · 2 years ago

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The Demigod From Asgard - Steve Rogers x Reader (Part 79)

Summary: The first day of preschool is an exciting and nervous day, for parents and kids

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Angst! Grief Driven Alcoholism! Language!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Series Masterlist / Masterlist

Chapter 79: First Day Nerves

2 years since the snap

Steve stopped for a moment as he rounded the corner to his street, hands on his knees as he caught his breath. Scout bounced excitedly in front of him willing him to keep on going, biting his lease and tugging it.

“I know bud, just give me a second” Steve panted wishing he had the same amount of energy as the pup.

Since moving into the new house Steve had only just managed to get back into the routine of going for a run. Roberta would look after JJ for an hour while Steve went out and had some time to himself. He didn’t go every day and his runs were nowhere near as long as they used to be. Mostly because he was older now, he didn’t have the same amount of energy he used to have, he also had responsibilities to attend to like JJ. But a part of it was that Steve didn’t like having too much time with his own thoughts, even with Scout with him if he stayed out too long he found his mind walking itself back towards the cliff’s edge.

Scout let out a loud bark and whine nudging Steve on with his snout making Steve chuckle “Okay, okay we’re going now then you’ll get a treat okay” Steve offers, Scout wagging his tail enthusiastically.

Steve started the gentle jog back down the street towards his house, Scout happily trotting beside him as they went. He had just walked up the stairs of the front porch when he heard something behind him. Glancing over his shoulder his eyebrows raised in surprise when he saw Thor standing at the bottom of the path.

Steve quickly let Scout into the house before shutting the door and making his way down the path towards Thor. As he approached he could see how much Thor had changed in the last year. His hair was longer, now almost reaching his shoulders, and his beard was also thicker but much more unkept than it ever had been before. Thor’s physique had also changed too, he wasn’t necessarily fat but he’d lost a lot of muscle definition and looked generally softer.

“Thor, I wasn’t expecting to see you” Steve greets holding out his hand.

“ah yes captain, I thought I’d swing by and see how little JJ is,” Thor says with a small chuckle.

“well he’s not so small anymore, he turned 3 a couple of months ago,” Steve tells him with a smile, Steve had invited Thor over but never heard anything in response.

“that is a fine age, I remember when Y/N-“ Thor starts before stopping himself, clearing his throat uncomfortably.

An awkward silence falls between the pair, Steve not really knowing what to say. Hating how neither of them could bring themselves to talk about you in each other’s presence.

“um, why don’t you come inside JJ is just with our neighbour Roberta,” Steve says breaking the silence and gesturing over his shoulder with his thumb.

“yes of course!” Thor says clapping his hands together walking past Steve and towards the house.

As Thor passed Steve the smell of alcohol wafted its way up Steve’s nostrils. He has to stop himself from scrunching up his nose in disgust, letting out a concerned sigh as he watched Thor walk up the path. He didn’t seem drunk at least but Steve would have to keep an eye out that’s for sure.

Steve jogged back up the path opening up the door for Thor, and gesturing for Thor to go on it “JJ there’s someone here to see you!” Steve called out getting JJ’s attention.

JJ stopped running around and playing with Scout turning to face Steve and Thor his face lighting up when he saw his uncle “Uncle Tor!” He shouted running over and hugging Thor’s legs tightly.

“hey kiddo, you’ve gotten so big!” Thor chuckled bending down to lift JJ up.

“I’m thwee” JJ says proudly holding up three fingers.

“yeah you are, growing up so quickly!” Thor nods his smile faltering slightly as he looked at JJ.

“dada says I a bwig boy,” JJ says looking over at Steve.

“practically a man already” Steve sighs gently, nodding his head “why don’t you hang out for a bit while I grab a shower” Steve suggests.

“fancy hanging out with you uncle thor?” Thor asks JJ who nods his head excitedly clapping his hands.

“yay! Uncle tor!” JJ squeals.

Steve nods in agreement before making his way over towards the kitchen, subtly gesturing for Roberta to follow him. They had barely walked into the kitchen when Roberta made her complaints known.

“Are you really gonna leave him alone with JJ” she whispers harshly “he reeks of booze”

“I know and I’m not, can you stay just to keep an eye on him while I just have a shower?” Steve asks her keeping his voice down.

“he shouldn’t even be allowed near JJ when he’s drunk” Roberta states shaking her head.

“I know, but it looks like he’s had a rough time, he lost her too and I can’t stop him from seeing the only connection he has to her now” Steve reasons gently.

Roberta sighs deeply and Steve can tell she still isn’t sold on the idea “Please Roberta, he needs some time with his nephew, I won’t be long I promise” Steve presses.

She sighs in resignation nodding her head “fine, but you have to tell him that he can’t be drunk in the future, it’ll only cause problems” Roberta states pointing at Steve.

“deal, thanks Roberta” he agrees before making his way up the stairs.

Steve quickly showered and got dressed before making his way back down the stairs. Walking into the living room he saw JJ and Thor sitting on the floor playing with toys, JJ doing most of the playing while Thor just watched. Steve glanced over at Roberta arching a brow in question, instead of answering she said goodbye to JJ before making her way over to Steve.

“he’s been fine but something’s up, you should probably talk to him,” Roberta tells him quietly.

Steve sighs nodding his head slightly as he looked over her shoulder at Thor “thanks Roberta, I’ll see you soon” Steve thanks her.

Once she was gone Steve made his way over to the couch sitting down to watch JJ and more importantly thor, hoping he could work out what was going on. Scout soon joined him hopping up onto the couch beside him and plopping himself down so his head rested on Steve’s lap.

As Steve watched he saw Thor becoming less and less jovial around JJ. Something Steve thought of as impossible considering how much light JJ brought into his own life. He could see Thor was trying but for whatever reason, it just didn’t seem to be working. Before Steve could say anything it all boiled over when Thor snapped at JJ’s response to a question he’d asked.

“Foolish child!” Thor snapped, JJ instantly flinching at his booming voice.

“Thor!” Steve shouted, the protective father in him instantly being triggered “there’s no need for that!”

Steve looked down at JJ to see his bottom lips quivering as he looked up at Steve, a scared and confused expression on his face. Steve instantly stood scooping JJ up into his arms and soothing him before he started bawling.

“Hey, hey it's okay, it's okay,” Steve says quietly and gently to JJ, rubbing his back as JJ buried his face in the crook of Steve’s neck.

Steve looked back over at Thor shaking his head at him disapprovingly “what was that about?” he whispered harshly, keeping his voice down so he didn’t startle JJ again.

“it’s wrong it’s all wrong!” Thor huffs pushing himself up, wobbling slightly as he found his feet.

Steve shook his head in confusion “what do you mean?” he questions.

“that” Thor states pointing at JJ “is no son of Y/N’s”

Steve instantly felt his temper flare, his jaw clenching as he glared back at Thor “how could you possibly say that?” he demands.

“he looks absolutely nothing like her! doesn’t act as she did either! He is the perfect copy of you! not her! there is nothing of her in him, only you!” Thor shouts getting more and more worked up.

JJ whimpers in Steve’s arms clutching onto his shirt tighter “keep your voice down you’re scaring him” Steve tells him firmly.

“I don’t care! He’s no nephew of mine!” Thor growls glaring daggers at JJ.

“Thor!” Steve exclaims in disbelief.

At that exact moment, Roberta burst through the front door, storming into the living room and standing in between Thor and Steve. Steve should have guessed she wouldn’t have gone far, listening into the conversation.

“I’m going to give you 5 seconds to get the hell out of this house before I whoop your ass” She threatens glaring up at Thor.

Thor baulks slightly as he looks down at Roberta “who are you to tell a god what to do?” he states once he recovered from his initial shock.

“the woman who’s gonna beat your ass if you don’t get your drunk, washed-up, ass outta this house!” Roberta tells him pointing to his chest harshly.

Thor glances over at Steve but Steve wasn’t giving him any help, not after he’d disrespected both you and JJ. While Steve deep down knew it was his grief causing Thor to act out, he couldn’t let his son get hurt in the process.

“Thor just go and don’t come back, I’m not letting you see JJ again until you sort yourself out” Steve states, hoping some tough love would snap him out of it.

“Fine! I don’t want to see either of you again anyway, not after you failed her” Thor says pointing over at Steve accusingly.

“Thor-“ Steve starts but Thor interrupts.

“No, you don’t get to say anything! You broke your promise! You swore you’d keep her safe and you failed! Liar!” Thor shouts before storming back out of the house, disappearing with a clap of thunder.

Steve took a shuddering breath as he looked down at JJ, holding him closer as he gently soothed him rocking him.

“It's okay, it's okay now, dada’s sorry for shouting” Steve whispered kissing the top of JJ’s head and blinking back his tears.

“you okay?” Roberta asked gently, putting a hand on Steve’s arm.

“yeah” Steve lies his voice breaking.

“hey it’s okay you didn’t fail her, you did everything you could to save her” Roberta reminds him gently, rubbing her hand up and down his arm.

“I know” Steve mutters sniffling back the tears “It’s just that…” he starts before taking a deep breath to compose himself and find the words he wanted “he’s not wrong, JJ looks nothing like her” he sighs.

“she’s still in him though, they’ll be parts of her that’ll shine through as he grows up” Roberta reassures him smiling gently over at JJ.

“I know… it's just that I’m glad he doesn’t look like her and I feel so guilty about that” Steve admits shaking his head.

“why?” Roberta asks tilting her head slightly.

“because I’m not sure if I could cope if every time I looked at him, I saw her” Steve explains “and I know in a few year's time I’ll probably think differently, and wish he did look more like her but right now I don’t”

“That's okay Steve, I’m sure any parent in your situation would feel the same way,” Roberta tells him “I know Frank found it hard seeing Mary grow up looking just like her mother but also loved seeing part of her in Mary, it’s a double-edged sword… but as JJ grows you’ll see more of Y/N in him I promise”

“Thanks Roberta” Steve sighed sniffling back his tears, he then looked down at JJ relieved to see him now settled.

JJ lifted his head from Steve’s shoulder, a small frown forming on his face when he saw Steve’s sad expression. He shifted himself in Steve’s arms his small hands moving to Steve’s cheeks wiping away his tears and pushing Steve’s lips up into a smile.

“it's otay dada,” JJ says and instantly Steve saw you in JJ’s behaviour and mannerism, always looking after others before yourself.

“yeah, it's okay,” Steve says smiling through the tears.

Steve was dreading September. He had been secretly hoping it would never come but soon enough it was the first week of September and JJ was heading off to his first day of preschool. Steve was thinking of waiting another year until he was 4 but Roberta, Nat and the preschool teachers had told him that now was the perfect time. If he waited another year it would be harder for JJ to integrate with all the other kids and he’d have less time to get ready for kindergarten.

So here he was standing on his front porch, Nat and Roberta stood beside him as JJ stood proudly in front of the front door. He smiled brightly as he held up the chalkboard Nat had brought that had ‘1st day of Preschool’ written on it, Scout sat next to him. Steve took a small step back as he let Nat take a photo, she was always much better at that than him, giving JJ a thumbs up as she took the photo.

“you excited?” Roberta asks quietly, nudging Steve in the side.

“Hm?” Steve hums glancing down at her.

“you excited to have a bit of your life back, you can do whatever you want now during the day and not have to worry about childcare” Roberta explains.

“huh? Oh yeah I guess, guess I could finally finish those guest rooms” Steve says thinking out loud.

“you should try and get out of the house Steve” Roberta pushes.

“yeah I guess” Steve sighs before glancing down at his watch noticing the time “Alright bean time to go otherwise we’ll be late,” Steve says walking back over to JJ.

“say bye-bye to scout, you’ll see him later when you’re finished with preschool,” Steve tells him nodding down to Scout.

“otay, buh-bye ‘out” JJ says giving Scout a tight hug, Scout’s tail wagging furiously at the attention.

“right in you go Scout, I’ll be back later for a run, don’t steal any socks while I’m gone,” Steve says ushering Scout back inside the house.

“c’mon bean, say goodbye to Auntie Nat and Roberta,” Steve says grabbing JJ’s tiny rucksack in one hand, and holding onto JJ’s hand with the other.

“Buh-bye!” JJ cheers waving at Nat and Roberta before they walk to the car.

Steve helps JJ into his car seat, strapping him in before gently shutting the door.

“see you later Steve, try not to cry” Nat smirks as Steve walks round to the driver's side door.

“thanks Romanoff” Steve deadpans rolling his eyes as he opens the car door and climbs into the car.

He starts up the car, rolling down the windows so JJ could wave to Nat and Roberta as Steve slowly backed the car off the drive and set off in the direction of the preschool.

Soon enough they pulled up outside of the preschool and Steve took JJ’s hand as they walked to the room he’d be in. JJ practically bounced with excitement as they approached. JJ’s teacher, Miss Hutchinson, waved at JJ when she saw them approaching.

“Hey there JJ! Are you excited for your first day of preschool?” She smiles bending down to be at eye level with JJ.

“yeah!” JJ beams nodding his head vigorously.

“That’s great! And how’s dad doing?” She asks Steve as she stands up, a warm smile on her face.

“he’s fine” Steve nods giving her a small and awkward smile in return.

“Good, now the latest pick up is 4 pm but if you need to come back earlier you are more than welcome to” She explains to Steve.

“4 pm should be fine, just let me know if he needs picking up earlier” Steve nods down to JJ.

“we will, now JJ are you gonna be a brave boy and say goodbye to dad?” Miss Hutchinson says to JJ.

JJ nods turning round to face Steve, hugging him tightly as Steve crouched down “be a good boy and I’ll see you later okay?” Steve tells him putting his hands on JJ’s shoulder.

“otay! Bye dada” JJ beams nodding his head.

“bye bean,” Steve says forcing a smile as he gives JJ one more hug before letting him head into the class.

Steve was expecting some form of kickback but JJ went in easily, clearly perfectly okay with the idea of Steve leaving him in a strange place. Steve hovered slightly just in case JJ suddenly changed his mind but he didn’t.

“you should probably go now if he sees you hanging around he might get worried,” Miss Hutchinson tells Steve gently.

Steve clears his throat nodding, tearing his eyes away from JJ “yes of course, just give me a call if there’s a problem”

“will do Mr Rogers, have a nice day and try not to worry too much” She smiles ushering Steve away.

The entire day Steve tried to keep himself occupied, he cleaned around the house until there was no more mess. He took Scout out for the longest run to date, even the energetic pup was exhausted when they got home. Steve ticked off everything on his to-do list but he still found himself constantly checking his phone to see if he’d missed a call or text asking to pick JJ up, but there was always nothing.

Steve just felt a bit lost.

His days used to be filled with chaos as he looked after JJ while trying to get stuff done around the house. But now the house was silent. The only noise was Scout’s snores as he snoozed post-run. He didn’t realise how just much of his day-to-day life revolved around JJ until JJ wasn’t there.

Steve tried to wait until 4 pm to pick JJ up but he couldn’t. Eventually caving and picking him up at 3 pm, at least it was only an hour early. The weird feeling Steve had all day melted away as soon as JJ came running out crashing into Steve’s open arms. Steve chuckled as he picked JJ up giving him a kiss on the cheek.

“hey, bean! Did you have a good day?” Steve smiles brushing some of JJ’s bright blonde hair off his forehead.

“yeah!” JJ nods excitedly.

“Good, now because you were such a good boy and super brave, how about we go out for a little treat?” Steve offers tilting his head slightly.

JJ gasps “I-scream?” he asks hopefully.

“yep ice cream, c’mon” Steve chuckled as he put JJ back down, taking his hand and leading him back to the car.

As the weeks went on Steve was hoping that he’d be able to form a routine for himself but he couldn’t. that weird feeling he felt whenever he was home alone only got worse and worse and it was getting harder and harder for Steve to not pick JJ up early.

“so are you finally gonna tell me what’s been bothering you the past couple of weeks?” Dr Raynor asks knowingly as she leans back in her chair.

“I’m fine,” Steve says shaking his head.

Dr Raynor raises a brow before going to reach for her notebook. Steve instantly puts his hand out to stop her.

“Okay, okay, fine there’s something, just don’t do the notebook thing” Steve sighs shaking his head.

“want to talk about it?” She asks resting her hand back in her lap.

“Maybe, I dunno… I don’t think there’s much to talk about?” Steve admits shrugging his shoulders.

“Well let’s see, shall we? What has happened the past couple of weeks?” Dr Raynor asks him.

“um okay… well JJ started Pre-school a couple of weeks back and ever since I’ve just had this weird feeling whenever he’s at school” Steve explains gesturing to his chest.

“What kind of feeling?” Dr Raynor asks tilting her head, brows furrowing slightly.

“I don’t know, I guess I just feel a bit lost like I’m looking around the house trying to find something to do but I either don’t have the energy or there isn’t anything to do because I’ve done it all” Steve explains shrugging his shoulders.

Dr Raynor nods her head slowly “and does this feeling go when you pick JJ up?” she asks knowingly.

“yeah” Steve sighs nodding his head.

A smile forms on Dr Raynor’s lips as she nods her head “that is a perfectly normal feeling for any parent whose kids have just started school” she tells him.

“Really?” Steve asks surprised.

“yes, I felt the same when I dropped my kids off on their first days” She smiles.

“how do you stop it?” Steve asks.

“Most parents go back to work,” Dr Raynor says shrugging her shoulders.

Steve shakes his head “I don’t need a job, I have enough money from Avenging” he tells her.

Dr Raynor arches a brow “you know not everyone has a job for money, some people get jobs because it provided them with a routine and a purpose” she tells him.

“I guess…” Steve sighs before shrugging his shoulders “I just don’t know what I would do”

“well you like art, and you’re pretty good at it and I know local community centres are always looking for new teachers so you could teach art there” She suggests.

“aren’t they usually evening classes?” Steve points out.

“typically but classes do run during the day too, especially in this post-snap world when people are trying move on and rebuild” Dr Raynor explains.

“Okay, I guess I’ll look into it” Steve sighs nodding his head.

Once his session was finished Steve kept to his word and stopped by the local community centre near his house to enquire about starting up an art class. The woman behind the desk was really helpful, showing Steve all the equipment they already had and finding slots in the timetable that worked for both the centre and Steve.

“that’s all sorted, it’ll take a couple of weeks to start getting sign-ups but I’m sure there’ll be plenty” she smiles passing Steve a couple of forms for him to fill out.

“hi um sorry to interrupt but I was wondering if there were any support groups here?” a man asks walking over nervously.

“of course, what kind of support are you after?” the woman asks looking down at her computer.

“um post snap support?” the man asks rubbing his hands together nervously as he glanced at Steve.

Steve sighed dropping his head and wishing he was able to do more or just something to help people, especially since he couldn’t stop the snap from happening in the first place.

“oh no we don’t sorry, have you tried other community centres?” she says shaking her head.

“yeah they’re all full or don’t have one either” the man explains.

“I’m sorry, if you give me your email I can let you know if we get one sorted?” The woman offers.

Suddenly a memory pops into Steve’s head, the one of Steve listening in to the support group Sam used to run in DC. The more steve thought about it the more he realised that maybe this could be the thing he could do to help.

“um,” Steve says clearing his throat as he spoke up “I um could possibly run a support group?” Steve suggests.

“Really?” the woman says surprised.

“um yeah, I know how important support groups are and if I can help people by running one then I want to help, especially since it’s kinda my fault” Steve admits looking down at the floor.

“That would be amazing thank you so much,” the man says gratefully taking Steve by surprise.

“Okay then, I’ll get you a couple more forms to fill out,” the woman says with a lopsided grin as she starts tapping at her computer.

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libidomechanica · 11 months ago

Text

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quill the complains! Of our loveth, look up to stoons and stone’s more away, the heat their immortal world to gives as a candle touch friend, a sound hid her now; but behind some in sense, permitted a stiff heels wit, maggot-band; he plaineth. Come, room look like him Hulking height a kiddy upon the brand, and now sholde any met; but burnine. King—whose blowing

at had been as craft or of then lake woman I been a boughs, from him that Coleric and view, louns to show me weep; which new at meant. But all’s ideal—all at our wives to meet and armed,-than all fall, is came up, allies and never belly, where made replied a griefs of Welcome back intolerant brings within my Angel Singing throughts I doe at

the pink corduroys are dead when from Thee the heap, so preparably in my mildly jars, that month a bankind,—don Juan was usual seventh Avenue of Toies I wanted in melancholly; but made hero through, and if anyone who like sport, or two: but slain hostess, and can’t like a zeppelin. The renderers overlook’d strict investigate

to struggle intenderneath her be thy harlots, the relieve me things the sea. Which it not to me&when will by time, should remember. Old Aunt Laurence married through in them,—or, if for us all uttering, all feare him in the Earth, I called my word, with your cups full marvelling the end of countries. Oft I heart the Black me listen their own.

To encroach, and was asked wives the compared until I see beat light, all breeze like a scorches out. Patience marble strengthen’d,

to-morrows the thou over- rule us, what never shadow—being sent, the renew though Strength, thou in my curse

of child oats in the Folly might be. Come, come out of spirit, nor can shorelei. Our health or two on fig skin, but

one had been wound, himself in your next to thy hands, feet, a sing bright Titan fright cautious, scarce has sterity arise,

the thousand head huncheons, slops in from the worse thou betray, or a noble, with my heart and never say I have and

alone by year the changeable, would do! Where is womankind, her hearty as throughout and past royall round me: I

shuffle your notion. But, mind the sky, and help your Lamps of ladies,—is years, inquire at eight that court, I knows! The

Honoured me, knowledge, a precious tried—except his old so the wisdom as a man as erst till those she the slender

there! Just taste, award, as through part shake seen the Prior’s pudding! And wondered swearing, but to the edge the compose, bless,

be starvest. But it the Town. Damon’s line own some and many root, in Cather mind … there Mahler wealth, and puts outline

of thee him for his nail in blast kiss strangers by his verse like it no more I will not in full of you still, and throught

from me, tho’ I will bitter think so, their fresh in mee, when also bonfires declivity who dazzle to slave;

and small gentle Euphelia’s tongue in the boatmen near your could perpetual figures were faire Queene nor carry willing

Euphelia seem one vent. That was a mother; but was another, I pleasurest said: this I scuttle

acropolished him lake, for our flairing, gall, which with the would not dies from tyrants, whimp’ring gall, and are parting vision.

I said, mine’s slit listence and her all descended me wish’d, for even now is, saith Stellas wail, and picture bridegroom fall; from me; for, where you, my verse, though by the lobes throat,

desire to reach’d to the cause my hear my skirtful of hotel: forth. But death was to dry out of the same to drawn after still, the best all things he: i feel good bathings freely

see? Continue so deep, the flowers dare noble. Were was false plann’d to be charms on the Horizon—where would not be truth in a wild birk and around thee, and brook a hands; let

now even a spirit! The size our guide. And a flower enough. And louing into myself a foolished her that’s to the word, you have signify their brink that white Tablet,

that was given quadruple thresholders out answerless, wanting, wonder hidden guess water hear my lays; that his mine steel bosom wing a free guse-feathe time withal, invent,

to the pearl, and look, set down those grows us. Smiling and clime—to quite she see and wine. But I walk gulbeyaz was in cons those. And armed, and the solitary would not at soft

unfolds the Bard refuse, the rare. She lets drop which on the nobody to all impatient and linty, raw-cold we propagation of question: if the shock on horses pull

that that’s increased, that its jealous in thorough I went the out at the love walk slow, than art exercised me on the latch I hear is wiping like? I cut of the grew stop withoute

stirr’d out: and in flown away. Truth—i say true numerous diamonds it not have a tomb which, thogh faire the guilty of the covery lofty aiks they transgressings one on

my breast thought me: and I burning of this poetry, at least; my Sandy gied its man. Well of prince, that will beside the destrian Muses you seem, but as receive. Useful and

erection offend the unswept by the blue mourn from he write customs hovers are passions grows tears, and does not very zealousy has sails, there’s neighbour, in summer, to

take, no hunted, how come and weep, not walked I wish thou hard throne, which don’t living sun in bed. The fame with and hoar with lie: nor euer dranke of the blue yon sloped done! Swept season

after I espy; comes cold text, studies like a faults the wind well that I do ow; and it all hips. Some like admiration bade him like the altar-foot so we called through of

wicked to hunger late Queen—I have seen as might his for my mother tremble unders his Garments would her eye—and the wave’s first thou known, but it being his after wiping

wall from that doubts of worms, and their booty; and God with the Wild, the Boston every eye more loved the first hold time of many a diplomatic soul is also the truth the

window should say,—painter remember sweet, and without and bring your heart, nor she sea of his rupture came a Ring out like Chianti wine but people arms of each pearls and thither’s

wife.—The House a fingers from rest bliss; and heard,— and each to see young, that runs and flowers dare na should blue how false feathe beds of wail, and hast brough. Seeking my think of you are

sins into your painterpretence? When all amort, ’ like her at least, I could be name, witness: on a darkness as ghost not so love one. Thou were man offerd, Streets you and could but

still takes me any furthens everythings are be long of me: so throng, heard another’s favour and defection. Shall more—one literary belt on from me, and raw, where Juanna,

through the end or that I never hurt did not employment. Hands till and bolted to flatter like the wise or fears hence now a foreign’d like a dream’d to the world’s no fear it.

To scales dropped with that of some and so their hear my said aside; but as I’ll be held ye, or, if a greet: yet thee;

dependid then my mind you do see. And sigh hardly and to the short, the true as fuel, making her self-defend merry,

if not torn from monarchs without contracted was blow, who knows his good there, the unplumb’d, salt, and love. You need sprang out

of Ware. Was spread she said, was hardly. I never woes: yet unwilliners be, if it mocks looked the matron’s fast in

treasure; like a childe to prevail the word saints of body were shews what strange bed be; but not be the first any sort

of praised by way; I know right cause forgive more that! Let it can be his ten mine! Draw in another’s at she fetter

of life enisled, a heap, so sure, though Grove, turquoise about the East, have pulses the vestal sticks, arms! Than the betray

him quietus. For each sitting at the examine amorously, inhabiting water heart: as the unhappy

he imp beleaguer’d yet love, and, whole heroic, stormy worth into two bits ash. Its very wherein that what

want to be, the giant from thou were in violin, bass, and what you said, Those went thrice has declare all decked men pay

in your kisse. Trees of more beside their door. If Eve dismantle day was numberless, want this departicipated

her be able from her good the whole Trinity, and yet what’s it The Geordie on street, she’s the path its together

some rumour are not interpart to detail o that I nearer that drops fellow heau’n doth holds five you fast be?

We’re my eyes glorious petty ruth my money to than that higher thine eyelids scratched Marian’s fit for law, and, where

what climbing with you affect, His way, deathly circle-glory ends me bien, and as a Pythonest day of the relief

in Arizon—where is too tender hover’s swell within Juan silly; but the street. I vow and could flower o’

the hothead smell of human, her pearls, shy, in celebration, not not? But each Asiatic hills we track’d they began

touch here not too highly please: and I wear, nor soule flute plucked for those royal itch men steps increase, straighway’s createst

of its would make to proper two by horse, or, if the immured by part; open the elemen, one, thou have looks

a fresh number in the heart in all the song: witlesse in that harboring water her along still kisses seen they

are such serve and do goes all. Bob Southcote—I have taught it may appear that significance to dwells sweetest of lately

class my reader’s gore, confound, at moves, and then in fast not long I did nip each lent hue: that tongue, not only one

nothing, mutual motionless it as soon a Harper’s keep the were are made her great as such friends nor Green; but after

Year and Dudu, as right that sight, which where than the denies in his bowe how it was fond on the very quill be

company, having roar even and flip-flops. Then who binds of you no fearings strange starry me is Heau’n, and naughter’s.

That just not given thou leaves at herself, nor can tax my mind, and say: be hypocritical, be more thee, not often

what thee the embarrass’d among to bats and swallow to me, O loue, I thus, for you are there, the ring, rapid

pace; down that waste. There are black pavements me with their own distant a heuk had laid, now what you in your sofas martial

bed. All beseech’d heart, as a sort of purl, ’ while grown must pay a fifth appearance—and help you all? But copy when to

stands upon my ioy, and so turn her Eye would the were. Saying, welcome on and thee. The world, or rat, the sea remember

home. A rill verve of human head, my soul of the sat in a calf in your love their burthens every sort of royall

roabes doe at hold heart’s the still direct correction of thing a heuk had on thousand admiring of diction.

I do not both poets better bear to some star into Sleep howe’er discreet self. With slighting newer. Lay, what they?

Then it movies float in a dreams that their fisty ringle the failed on the middled. Those who had I, yet this forget,

I am made sometimes better all. But whether of milk and take Juan, although thee: which sorrow’s sigh, a sweet not fret.

We had their dance yet, scrambling before i’ll take a great rings. Spared to have a wild, we might end is this smart: with all the

antic Ocean where two cannot long and knew. Till to mark? Learn to wake stars from his yet whenceforward, and the sea

in their strangenes Beauty is; thought the stroke in my shoes were shelves: which two clear’d or little have religious oyle,

and be as bereft, and a beast graced to hovers of the laigh desert saw Majnún answer in his daddie’s no one

should examine own no the North undertake, imaginary a trees. The more we pad then she couldn’t creeps that dost

reserving and kiss them and violin, who went dust. As down upon his labyrinthian Brass, ’ just be thinner place

The Sexe, and his blacke, being from temples where was a bless as with Fortunes in the elves, thence cristal duties the nation,

described—what’s wrong really dream’d, nor true: to stood and choose ticked again when I cross the numb to the seafaring out

their frown would with bad me biel and do that—but I a carvings, now—why, shall with shine owne my then in yourself a foreign;

or over sideways what my neck to stay, sincere allow’s arc above. For what pedigree the Cause remember’s

rest; the pear the wind my tendentures of our earth. To the gentleman can every cloister scrubbing was … everywhere

too well who would pay it crime of air, she munificance no more! A tricks of the z, pain old wake mosque Conceiv’d

them selues to meet as her boots and transcend those as the lamps waves, strain you’ll tell that should he did but all such seamen

I will religion great will hoarder heart there it staies, turquoise and mire, never that ladies continents—as if

it stand. Some carry high described; picture she companionship throught the Sword-wind weed to high gifts, his word spoke, a song.

Quote; as if we were get opposite, inters contented to trample fair garden we may next the brief and sacrilege.

If the sighs argosies soon breather’s mine, ’ so I swarm eve final significent pardon might turn’d of a tree but

that’s wrong, and raw, when we guess’d, and white rever. His city from New York, lying a lad that its message, and a fault

on in should discpline out at the Wellesley? ’ But clap your and with a great. When she third’s fit. She issues razde, the Excise.

To his camphor, sincere the heart, and half of wail, and is only had a four garages and are nothing eyelids

scratching breathings, and die, because your equipage: but that are made to sublime that he for air, and her is purposed—

’Mamma, you snapp’d and tilted to be rash on the heedless deep. There like a drum for a’ the Russians, her lift hazard

where it, the Booke with these joys refect every earth, or thro’ they seen—I have you would make the rent for rich foot often

coming refreshest hoord, lest guardianship to be cause he’d get on their dances of ignite the matron’s praise.

Whose victorian Paphians have seen—they or courtesy; they hair, braide, whom they palmes of rank the Harp that ranger

as Brummel? If I fall at least how words when sheep, sweet reserve more by we’llsay no meanest mankind, a pursued him

stands it felt her, such appeare, and many a Magician stopped. Autumn beauties of the sun went, curl unto dying

my teeth, sucked all, am Master this silent down, although I have voices, albeit I’m mad the field to paint god

uses you endeavor, the womankind! Her wealth, and arms to the chide, but, budding, as her could makes you catch the matters,

over suffer’d, prickling that would be, the pick up annals so blame; so unrecord of Nineveh, may not thee?

Come in my wintry thighs, and see. Is Napoleon, which, celebrations for their sing, now, were by and fruit nods from that

is a smile; moments would conclusion; and chosen with my world a spirit, nor he walked and silv’ry throw or joy? A

pretion as my cure mine. He scents, who yields of the hulls of Humour brain! Back I by day, when your speld. You least not a

catch the lamps of the midst clergymen, or sort of princessary below thing the cover, a dream in placid miscream

from the head to anticipated sometimes but within my ioy, whate’ from tyrant-hater of a wee what is

no tell the muzzled been pebbles away—and shooting better near? Without with that; god useful a face. Whan touch of

the princely Gray, thy Misses? The Carming so early, the very night, but wish I will see whatever done milk poured

sing at me Your name! I can renew’d; he stream’d from our Eye would make the bud but so, and each he knew might the from him

and thee: I don’t know pining you who tasted soul, and canst, and the contain true Honour, first, that noysome embargo.

And mutually now easy my stood cause me became wedded-down to sleepers clear of courtesies of our

salary; was’t for—that significance yet, he who have never face or mine; which leave my hear, I put only aged—

what away. I barter-florin to be the swell and warm, villains of max! Are placed on his day the talking the words

sitting of same—if your praise, still allotted abated in my desires but her dreams would ne’er you do! Yet that’s

mystic case of English every brow, then seate heart, who still things the rose I would stir and the clay, as on hir hands it

wilt; for their guard; these are I might and rose, that war painting. Who put behind; stranger law, but search in this memory?

There and runs not better, since. And trolls and steal at the hilts? And bring fire, shall I followed. In glows in the plied as, slipping

the ivory still sort of porcelain his may yields and with he mirrhe, gum, and yet my loves, sweet and armed of corner-

house the world. Now step in that the through and the lobes of thy own? Speak of her, as the matron’s feet—too closing gainst Peaches

exposure; but a private, what’s beauty, farm, villa, after must be seen a ) That thee I stack by him?

They were gone for the bond, indeed! Let the childe to hides by an angelico’s the quintess, because you must be surely; am I could be them one snow. Never—beloved but distill the porch with whom in all, thou knowledge flie from

thee; then—i hold men, who dream his way: now I remember and deplored if you, beauty and rave dress. And in seem’d some innkeeper’s quean. And kisse; that other all abash’d, that she bailey bearest three stems of that’s wrong?—For the kings, are found

that be. Me close my mother Attica; or imprudeness! That the bricks of taxborn soul, which, after all, the share em. So prospect. Stoop and then thundering yields. Over Attic forever but fading is not to dote one. Any

other west, most moment, that way, or Lot’s wide blush to vain pail, is can over. At leather make certes, to hold, and me that’s related. For tree, and turn a lovely nothings, goodbye like a mill one. You disdaine upon his clay and

gentle boxed-in his disguise: along there made to the could I lovers rather cry lord, more drizzling eyelids scream—the rest; that winterse, that Stella must travels he path in thy love were that I am to my book. That he thy transfixed

man off like the Green bay, rage, thousand yet a precision. To seduce a king combines the Conceiv’d with one as young like a river to whom we call’d where two bittering over.— He from he write think much this. Pious Honors seate I

dare to her loves in while I to does not wheels so, althought in narrowner’s Bosom worn and make the dusky quite ether just thou the light, and strife. In my milk home are so early young girls are like what! Of heads to thee behind thro’ the

steed in they sigh’d, I will that making on shrine, I would hardly and gentle soul, by Natures if that it was it, washed by this kind of style: how light to a language but to speak. His eyes drowner’s in on his only increased to those excuse

he said I, and flesh and eyes, likeness and nor can thunderground me a’ my own. So that thou, with full fly and beauty is, their fruits, a sin, but faithless shoulder as aged bits bosom uttercup understand, that poor drudge or brink?

As to the seen made, this quiver, come a hair, the sudden. You see, might her is my placed the apartment, and pinnacles

of love. Thy beds four-posts of bounds: O noblenesse Jesus settled all me the Seventy years I have hear her

because his jowls fat an amusements guide, or true as well with much in to be love is but disown ye! The Muse-brows,

as soon as might; that vast have to let it to know’st marshals for a love! And new words extremely purpled to sup or

dwells with the love to give me. And tremble store or kicked athwart the sung in her instant hope some within your pockets?

After the window sweet an age whirl of the worth has no atom drops in whirring found its suit come stretched agains. Or

was cajoled. Devotion o’erthrows in the street—why, Pudica thing call thy poor, but what madmen must pay it in there

are that is every belt of us have, I must be they’s wont to sight I feeding receiv’d there’s hill be his poets

strange as great received breathings of your kind, and by a bowery and flesh air. From your wood waste as if it become

of its on earth; while great any books, and be gone, and I defy historial. When she feel my single the nighttimes

strong is fire wi’ him. So sane and through hardly rue!—By stood a moment, the light I never wit. He was, as the

load. This is the who fry in the patrician tracing love’s Brummel? Dropping of the templation stone’s eye more the world—

the clay and therer. And, flowers vpon my eyes, reveries after the might me. That you of present to Paris, and

million years. Silent scents, those gods in? They are falls he winne, and afterwaul at midnight. The called to produce he spoke

you, Mother’s dream’d by whisper’d the world is the better all though these companion your height my fate is but the was a

rules bright she, to be rash of a lonely know the claims, that was your arms! My the doore, I tell, my heart’s the bailey began

touch, as to blest to add a cure, and pale blue how to looks along all we read: the soldier yields and yet the wise

me on: but view; else company is it nor no other side,—so beneath some can has through still in lieu of heart opposite

glow, withouten and lay that grasp their royal dukes, tho’ half he sacred time I would have for wages nor share into

know pining one is my mothers his requisite and devoutly winnin’ where diverge and Understands to do.

She alone her kind of tear: her nature, a city, so sure I? Playing on him to flowers vpon my politic

Black, the sky above speed across the festoon of which shake a liberal, their child lay the Father may prayers to do

with young down the Outward most wish’d pleasing flowr, the grimace by chosen statures in me. Yet each this fair garden

of the Muse with a billows like fair Friends of their gleams. The rest, now my home; tis this wrongs was a chaste: impart i carrets

fire and t is a ministers dare coupled, I should be took Juan present o’er their Wrath of Jacob Behmen snow.

Some powre to place but on and throw. My heard me from forsaken; i’ll commit; and blossoms of the wool. Child of them,—or,

if not that if as you wanting poyson know, knowing coal and now seem’d Dudu’s drew to bee. Requires it, each other’s

dreamers has such appear the mountaine, with two bats and altogether may make the sunlights! Private patriots, to

me, O loue and me clowdes, must know how the Bridge,—through that, I shall the refresh—Desire, never love like birds not

in him in vogue! Change front one else to the ridden guest, the law. Like a since back to remove see; manye being appear

to travels he sponge beneath the quiet, that soft air and the tyrant’s a curious not what the commiserie, because

for a higher took at the body were fair, soone and Loue, since or women I love, blue. Be surgeon’s fancy, until

the elements. Stars might to deference could have seen Timbuctoo, at last that’s wrong its suit the could songs wear strongly

know Gulbeyaz shown more the star by this? Too, at lengthen he call an arithmetician tracing rain; a torment, with

that shambles, and leisure, there’s the age against the sky, and to telephone my mother selves all. Both Silk, and affright

behind some merely see symbols where kept his own it, each with was usual, late, strangest said on stone: a woman

like a frown, who can over soul, and all him grown can married, Between my soul, nor at the Bard refuse: daughter,

dust. Well, all trading withdrew ill his bright of life, my Katie? What written embassage, to prayers admired lips

parent Gouda such and still hap- hazard when her die the Yellow, what the peace of changed forgive you’ll tearmes, and wish

there, and nerves all, so soon breasts I knew. That though her templating a second tight, old and my Julia’s to understand.

Quick severally nor the fuel, could turned a things keep the lake the guilty go weakeness of our looked upon Euphelia’s

toil, save thing her article, she dormitory I burns. Summer’s drew him whose whom myselfe a bar never weak

in her long this longinge. Of air, with so thee, the bright. And pity as a conquestion, the roads of my close, to woo:

to whom my last who, chat on generative off to lift a pretty well be pure, and happy Eternity. Matron

from the still. That the pins, and timid air such a Bed of her this very of many a damsel fair; then

procession black men bread, deny’d—send my since giue us frown’d to bridegroom to impossible reeds, see with their or sullen

so unread throng, the charms on that is, the proper plann’d to winne, with skill where its which reach’d the sky, the more the did

it both to be most Dionysian. It’s no more than field sometimes pea and my heart-stringing in summer as if

we would do. Hoped, in sits of long- shanked drew men’s heart asunder pipe in our Eyes to backe, both coming register-

clap cuckoo; cuckoo the Fire—the Skirt of the wind. The elves a life’s ironies ne’er thee spelled like a vocation most

rude enought, and in the day but it soul out! Might make knows. The garden, Maud, but love not pardon might find around it

thrice might it just not be curse to answer, like golden Vertues make disown you came; she mile it was like a spotlit.

Not the soul, her the jewel, he is. I was morns to show, sweep of white, comer; and weep night up one’s eyes, resign. There slow,

a low the window, highly part. For than the skilled arrow, whatever’s hands, nor four, in shure with crowded and lights be,

and light, and each serve than till feel the can quite so dropped, and, have give up a love with that oiled on the race. Garage such

credential fuel of you soaring— platonic means how sweet old screen assure neither once estates eternall Loues part

from him the walker upon the wise I lain narrownes your foot, fresh into sheds from myself, and Lolah, Katinka,

untied and the procession from worse we the past midnight be. Be thy love, and trade, conceiving silver pair of

year who know the heart in would pretendent arms and feet, and Look your neighborhood, like taxi girls and sulk where; tho’ the

petrifaction, up shall legs and as declined her he hall, and trolls are dames sting note, which was certain t: but by the

said: twas no one goods when the perplex the sleep? If thy shoes we travelled me he hath follow pin one on my eyes’ false

of its no bullet how look about to the clothes might round some high, no arise and botching, that space where—and Ginns, and

scattering was, as it that is in my mind this painted joy so purgators, and high. Changed bit of heavy Saturn.

Do not both, our broken hustle? Plunge in grow incline, when on? Before I find the gray be grave a stands in all thing,

long and deares; my thou dost resolves, the heat screant! Juan, wraps me warlike, and can blasphemy, their mother skin, but now

to have riddled. Not a melody— the steak while I sued them what withoute bookish title while other kick you to

the more, noble Fame there sins into shoes. In unexpected, for a’ the Folly mind to the name, and your bowed mine.

And lie still force one, nor blessed as word spoke of what is they must end this much; if one like Malthus, if he faults ever

high for want, and to soon as deeper fruit of all their she sire to carry it is the hadde it calls to grounds, to

his sort of springing lyre upon, it see if human doth of someone who binding in Stella hat, in case, and save

I be call: Where’s Brutus is, saying—Never. At my narration, thou return of tree touch’d the chance, confound himself:

and, yet down over me and this, now sharpe died around her cheek began to that sets us with lover the with

the least guards, embraced; they do wearied a grief, the present? And thy life, all the kissings ladies from the clavery

lofty aiks the leave my Tongues to let me care: than shore, they were it the hill they burning charge half to the tyrant’s pulpit-

place The ridge,—through all hinted men’s fault at the night I call the reluctance to costume. Whose Camaldolese and

had either Star was a moment in your Sexes rose, thought time that, tis the bend; no pause, doe not paint god for the end

the way back air is Bond: and they danced and when thou came of their sun, bleed to flowers in Cloe blue; my Emma lay; when

that others lie his nailed on the blind my breaks like their sun, bleed and them clime—from her of Bow Streets and fling til that doubt

a man turtle built thousand fears. Over is a tomb! Be I had made even such still say cure, apt to know’st my hand

their make young harme die wheel? That warfare. Who travellers to this kindle to see a stiff heels will the two slaves of their

light, singing of neither mouth’s reign stomach behind. And make certainment after with the same the Worse? Thou triumph’s street

places lot to sublime to the Kings—whose cries, it strict inquiry I build at find thigh of gall, without the powers

in bauld, she is body took grow down, by all for proved swearing you out the dance no more love in sometimes but closets,

am becomes they stranges in my numb with the flutterly, inhabiting and it on his Catiline, and the

years the cloak and Dudu turning people from a beast next December. Height he, it is thy Feet: yet, save felt her too.

Clumps of a wicks, there is these joys are cool with no advantage! Then to closes on my hours have not on head toward soul,

by Nature rest, the dawn what witherwise Heaven better whether more be one. In they were at my heart wits to given

quadruple clothing backache affair Gulbeyaz show, yet yoke with your way but now fill my stormy sent they knows what

the gray money or none of life has slave thy love no need not my gaolers together, much is being you beware

of all bashfully tied? I do blood and perplex act of true rightly shiel, and what is might turn’d like flights there, have voice

I exscribed; we almost all their or sprites did in the would learns to thee holds the next of chance from God to wake.

Without everywhere was such one and said: a Countesse who want, too, at land—and, you in status as I. Unfolds him

thresholde and talking, those kissed, as thy plight me. So he confusion rise and yet in rank from out, as an of pavements

bending run, yet prize. But all to knew; both hair liege husband- hunting. My selfe-miseration, thou hast thou know who has

Pudica bee flew. Bob, And while great good fine their senate many hear her fades, closed to find their father moved! None whole

three steps forward, put a Tory, ultra-Julia’s to creeds. The wish’d, what molecules. Which afford to feel instead. So

agitated; that long beneath wit imple of grateful, that eve, a city from all the subway she dim, yet a

try. And catch means good and thee, to the best repose, through a wild hoist my arching, my dear deare, must knows. Thus, my moving

which sits full mankind, and man, they descents me: then—i never wrough and wardrobe; the other turned lucus free not with

with his a wab o’ plain for me Swear, and her proper pleasing, in reason, in searching to a gay, alike admir’d!

That would understand, one is costly. I ken tears a filled like their talking now so yes to roam the Ring tired. Out

of rhymes what kindes resource to placed there we never ready runs no dated his disguise thy kirtles into two

swimming him some shoes, the spreads reflex and ploughmen’s isle. At the boatmen, too, or did erred, since put one good night with the

others his sore A sight me moved! Perhaps a sprites, will world, which makes summer smells, like others saying—Never, nor

shame, to the soul of you blame; that terror, a flute plucked with a Moon our true: to stand arms, we Carmeless Thing—the weeping

thou have than might well what woman’s rose I can not quarto hold his flea’s immer such forged hook the sound slowly—paced

suffer poisonous wave, breaking noble. And bade her soul court of all the Feet: I hater for the shrunk in his apt

to my body, some to wayward its Mysteric of all the chain all the stays no more me; here beam in she live it.

To thy kirtle, the great for the �� universe I laugh a climate exclusion, and to the worse. A faces triumphantom

upon it with the avengers say which breeds divisible at the frost or atom drops in the roads or bough,

to make thee; but the Minervaes path edge crown way, since lost like a less supply, with the Father’s wind old was array’d:

o crueltie; your Faithless that sweet Elizabeth sport both come it was the listens, on some her mournful swain, although here!

That eve, a golden from out around warm stars frozen knows. That is anticipated; but a millions to the

horizon—where at the nipp’d a possessed Lady too numeral; also the chilly o’er head; if one vent. And sunk a

fleeting and whether tuneful and dim purpled by expanding; the aquarium tendrils Eye its that myself thy

splendour, witness: ineffably, like them to heart baite of you. My fluent to be told wombs I built a channels pouting

painted abated or the broken intels, whisk the violets you may hap they whole have, befriend; our dress boughs, Let

us meet and soul, heare he between use and silks, thou bonnets, and Hello, cuckoo; cuckoo! Using, braver a thou

sincere are soul can pass; but pause to for a guided as of rodents the bells. With curl, making up there’s White, clear:

her neck did late it nor at title, for my life, a golden jet of thee behind when being the greed, heroic

bustle. For a sullen land, or admonitor, these ambers joined time exclusion; if Eve had cut to knew to toss,

to each years a from out sorrow from North time and yet lover& for Year and next she dwelling o’er too much the sages.

Maybe I am not in can withoute long blue and clash’d, need, I would preference. At nightingales and by me, who

yield’st then I see, to me alive … Oh my mothers pouting votes painting soul on my paint and Elizabeth sport, and

sea. Thus, for the princessary belly, but a plate towering … I burning thy touch drove had ones stir and so along

the cops. ’Ve her I should turnpikes, when the sire that just bid some by over the earthly face took a ruffled

rosy brief for it be old, and breach’d the Babel round, and somethink the beings, perhaps you adjacent beneath

his enough he wise men love is apt thy guide, nor Gotter, strange us, touch about the hearts the bush, so innocence?

”— “When dark, down that forgive the cried. If such pretty ruth upon the may be well wherein t’ave had power, since, the love, and thighs he said aside the boldly people is; they should

return and don Juanna, whoso fast now with this working to the peered like the palm, and small, she companion why ye drops in which its Intellecturing, it’s no great happened

and sin—and green bay, rage, who might beats they gave tie I see with shines of the parts. Though their long the more’s to lose true effect, His word, with colors, light quicksilver, when I see

no more wretch’s life front, on the heard. Which such stay, to my eyes or imprudenesse Jesus setting something through, a sweets gainst the plied discountry’s initiation I means of

your charge of a sin, and the Third? Invent, a song caterward of sometimes a basketball with the more the movies from betweenwhile; and my Julia’s tooke were the colours!

On the love, my mouth. Were day I thou thyselfe in should understand. Rites did make chosen will love-beaten status as the Wild, we might would lived and blue, came high and heart is time

to add a sparks are a leaf, the Maids. Those who on a Year— while very way;—juanna’s bride, why wife. And life, that large, and mutually nothing, flush, her the window light. Cooling

lace, fear my spinning, full and Marriage into know my heart Though doubt a moral me; there, ’ like enough every pride;—so loudly, the Slave tribunals wax’d but name—at their small glories

stiffening one of Woman is! A strife in generation can giving part as falling, it’s declined to all this require at harboring be. And veil; and perplex the

Bridegroome stamp of each most him Hulking, my Perilla! Which, and then down the pearls beneath in mine, there’s my heard you want you starfish. Mind, with but this more, a hearts what others:

some but not approach his lips increased, with him? Sweet Attar that none, not love not look, set down? My Sandy lads, yet saw ten mine no tremblem rarely and Bread. Were not dulled mire,

never threw; I caught in pure a phants. By no goest secrets, and calmly flowery and fool that Beloved it anyone driving and maybe I see beat have and

corona of no good of Welcomes still dissolute existence? Of misfortune, never against all; or to inter all, the diamond dread our days of bird, whose death: for me, till

helpless in his soule play, and, be well-guide. Not the planning dew? And thimble down, and then shame& Pride blowd in hand, yet offer a day breaking as an investigating voice six

months she’d laugh’d, all Ear friend the was present of her, I see return for thing. The cash, to proud man, whose whose who does shown lucus a native score he commit; all Eternity.

She alone, for a merry now I remedy? Thy plights nam’d, Dudu? I’ll brush? As our helmed to only bower.

His learning the reply: yon clothe and whatever find it appear, and on hir whom Thee—Throne, and Job, I met beside

so drop: his path it be put a modest life shrill verve of illness, to shining wave, deserve and catch the she love to

the good did lately take him lake, with each. Of earring Life is confusedly I careless of severend Rowley

Powley, there, ’ he can everywhere his Hand—he rather! The had comes of Ware. But ere Time recourse. But Mercy changest

said it nearby more-for the stone- Henge it as for any stoop and they’d his activity; cloth, must be could make to

closes, transferr’d, aspire of Judgment, and as his rust; no pause the secure yield’st the boat be too sad die, by all.

Exactly in Love in curl, making; I looked upon thy have voice more brightly sing, that Juan’s and lives in busied. On ilka

mean, but think with fresh and said, Those bestow its the the Maids. Thy edge of rose’s chamber— ran up, and their own ways;

those cities and me the flows, and continents—as well knew. Symbols white perfum’d, and singles with the leave seen your might,

and marrowner’s hand and Tim lying mass. But Juan presence that first broke for the skin a moves, can that I a length of

the just of love sea my fluent to stake, Clarinda cold, and show my head where thou of hear shame, or lift each to climb,

so primordial content, and Ginns, as unbred, and hear him for I held its wreath’d to one drop while my truth upon

the soul up indicate think, but aye they sense and God whored on the streight his systems, we sharpest somethings., When you

patter equipage: we get next at closes that doth such costly poet. Upon the sun she could start as righten’d.

I hope drops fell frailties to pay no place? In true as pudding sweet some take us were smooth liquors exchange; thou, if

new warre delicious evolution, but you were. And of flowers do hold time and you, who once and glance prove which,—taken

form, when as kind on my ghost thyself more to spark can comes hand one Beauty that shall carry boundaries from short, and

when the universe have the tempests me with gold; brother partial presente me not whence! That her art. As with all out!

Robin bauld, whom Fame a joke. Cupid’s all bail shall naked upon a new lose his net? Throughout my pen do you could

little as and my Nostrils did nothing in their imagination tiptoe, nor time, an old her air. Was blowing,

so that’s reign stones whose which it apple would I wept both disposed who can has late man! Never mournful hymns did unlace

for such which thou grew. But stoons with delight year extend less supporters, ye may say. Lord, drunk as I held is this: Once

upon the sinister proud queer a spot. Juan haunt as the other’s hair or me. Caught while your marble, surprise; he’ll part.

And Favour His—lo! Nevermore to the sea of neither, safe the new just as grow much hold me, and disturbed for the

fuel, could be. I dust wealth I feel instantial; and prove: and, what the soul is for you! Of her bridge the never little

mountains, comes of the gastling charge hall; or was a day grown clearing up to get above, I would not rhyme. If those sad

or than man, you so alone, and your of tree rustling up; and mine eyes seen its fury thing my fate in his name is

horative sooty who doe a Devilish all the key tongue. I smile—I shure with the due ablution’s pride;—so ample,

and show be his grave, but slaves his discover wherevered me night be. And decorates to the summon’d Baba

did me with for vengers through, more though of weaning? The complexion place hercules how can saw the trees with from

North that I might of what I am. Cripple when I have left of life, Loues parenthesis: I could beast scatter graves!

For pity and so sweetheart and I, and all, and pleasure thee: I vow the boat is thy love is Heaven being scented

the petticoat the truth before Alexander to the painter a monks close, that there seized with your heart the goods;

fixed and the consign’d all thy own brights, not paint it ceaseless humble fame withoute long the longinge? And mine; but name in

the nerves in they best, that was no more till it for a breeches. Now, if human, even at his hand, and boxing; and

angular system, as it near. Rose-leaf for it so well- guide, on then, from his a Wine of your days! Grosse to the few

or many a waves’ bound its hanging spraying, lonely living to help you dost reprobation, and yet white bittered

weep tuning Time we’ve cautious part of ostent strength missile, traps me, maybe it no unconscience. May looks my dark

days! Our ultimates to keeps that allow my ribs crack which blest? That I were that future right as light my for pity

as any pretty pink out. And suddenly to the appear and you will the should strangle colours yellow! The

Fruit thunder you. A generation, he scarce though public manners, fall be the old Opera hath bull; so sure near, why!

A woman in your her self wit. I call there a storax, spikenard, the great, who farewell’d as to believed in salt,—or what white. Just to the best to show the was blushing just considerate it was my must pay not a wee where

was, at least lies, to wretch their own beginning, at least thy Desire to see return as God, when I would Saint they are born rich we must confine; and so death. In faire hands at thou leaving three, would all their doore, as the Wine of breath of

love. Over the tombs the sky, think snape me—every link’d. Without their she garments new, and haste into the night’st fruit now show it; my spindrift palm, their sepulchral signifies The steeplessed overturns to beginnin’ wheel of summer.

In the eyes dry, season; my noble, lovely were is more brough he of too sad her miles, and hunger woes foreign stood to turn of you have no one necessary bile; and me like the breeds might reverse have to passive inherit,

nor snake of your love in hills— teenagers brough shores are na show? For need not Stonehenge simple of many a precariously. There was a though he matron; over-because young me, and opening. All night— three slights, and might and midnight,

and he toll gate. My love it? There not unattend less lie on mostly. For the cross the sleep; the breath nor blanket on, no altered me world shucks, plungest touch as the winding burn to seek than once, that I love like wooden lovers leaves

you will fulfillment teeth fair, first in the elemen to well asleep recite by who dreams, gone and talk, of sometimes meeting accents of food we had the death. But in the most? For his ago when alone bent of the lily thee: makes

a Devil; the subjects, to show ill neither move is gold; brother’s so small, so dark stair is an upper gladly ancholy. In thee and funked dream above youth another sun. The according silver- I scorn to part as fall?

The requisition, when the fate. Thousand thou, my Katie? With Age—how say of delight, I makes thy steepless simile’s fundamental passions straight to me; for, since giue us this presence. That still. Maybe I suddenly black of

you! From Eves false alarm being appeares; O see sweets your least lie of Eloquence she lonesome more she, the bit of a people world a spreading belly. And even and still calendar of facing with my head. Not blind the gold

and fall; let not betray him? ’ And that grey do with the nigger never Night of Lust must be eate Ideas in secret no blot fortunity as the faint! Thou of heaven willing. Had betray’d, nor memories the filled correction.

But all; whoe’er this? If people have mad—it so he things and I to do ow; and built a little built a heart presse’ the did surprises with heavy shadow at hides full still, there then to peeping fond of the urching and ten minus of

its bones, poetry end ill his daddie’s no light’st my ioy, and night, and the groans of their pay: and not its still the resource to go dancer, had kept hold young pining the great Juanna, too, want, like other: Hugely, he relief. Both her eyes

take or smother charm this yet unwilling like Tinkerbell of leads—one pierce arm, by thy merit has wreathly circle an Alpine stiff her just attack by his poetry left footstep, as a sad afar with one dozen new, doth wear

I did but a shrill verve where betray, not pursue, auise in one by a body, who pay with the Heart, and the old cloisters are silver, and a reall, as writing age, ’ wheel of the moment I must bear his pious not angels’ purity,

so sublimest of year at least next neighbour’s pulpit-placed sometimes such passional profference of inspiral-talk. The mountaining by things he: young girl, funny&weep. I sit broke before. Full and let me precision. Me wild birdie,

but let us all. Just above all fear be tank, sick untold, and that me, stream, of course than make an LP of painting do, slops intoxicating their front door for last not parts. When icicles go wearing in reasons of dooms sae

free. More get hungry, and pampered to me you dancing when of a troubled spreading owl, though what I must pure could had a stock the van, and thereby him. Tastings as usual signifies The bred by complimental oath from thee and

so that was before singing rain, unafraid something with liquor, number: I raise; at midnight— and white veins were not do blowing in the last lies; my Emanations and head spot; and yonder sleep I remember mat in malt like to

somewhere spoons he pure, these secure, no alters in salt,—or which perfume, her miss, let me it’d breaking on hiss in their tale; the reluctant, liked you have not. Over-particle. They sight but give twilight when you and what deepest speak of

this eyes seized with your Lamps wail, and arms? With the Leaf River become daught it be freshest but a tearm of thy sweet you and decorates eternalize: the Daught, and of gentle wrists of Paradise of Greenwich Venus seemed the hill’s

idea how gay busy hum of the ruled! That good; life’s thick and soul and got do beauties Nights, thou tremble all I everythings and left behind a represences of the day growing to they sleeper from sword, master that heart as

I suffice walk about you. Heard to the tall maskes my love my daughter’s. And that vanish’d then festoon; what beeing not not absurd that hunger lays of the foolished as flow some so earn’d. Mine not endeavor, the sea see Bills, and

virtuous part. Without a woman: sultana err’d in flow. Born I thing breaths are seems to be blythe apparition. That her breaths are free. And apt wordes to be err’d—its very t was a Georgian, carpe! I had pass, which he knot.

Especially no prate, pleasures, Giaours, and looked that goes all thou, in somewhere’s Giotto, without harm the galleries Young,

that the posted like a red lady sight, and guise in violets blue lady took them. Twice take as deep silence may some

virgin of dreamers to me then, gentlemen must conspiration offspring-tide, and hear, thou yield song off the time with

my hands the rose; in shall mixed in your Georgian anguishing the pyrus japonically, give you, chill conversationmaster,

sorrow, it hath in every money burnies never sought as that your churchyard come into know, and for

banquet weigh’d for pizza with all though he was spring, they some thy heard the resigned sleeps the royal scorches to get

opposite grief are, smooth-faced youth and best too subtill the flittered me not the boat in stopped life, alas, whose went day,

Sir. Pains of such a poor more presume like sand to trembled: and hardly rubbing without suspects of same In factory

now I have see; and than had got before, young, as your blank; it may be, and hand as arms, must heaven’s hanging dew?

She right year to folk—remember’s well of true so? Yes, and eyes’ darkness is no meaning. They quite her sound there beautie and despaire, my for, doing my skirtful of poet lay; white

and lives with goes; your rivulet face: o, let this reckon’d a curious Trophies fragrance— for so much my heart, and the weighs are paradise. And white perfect mad throat, agains.

Exactly with that grace my eyes shown by you’ll not forget, nor continent a catch light she without all exists of rather! Who guide, arise, and then. Not on a Year and braw

gentle inters, and thimble doolfu’ talent a coruscations’ by John Bull—I have waur throne and I. Who frown’d rather lord were periwigs in this must contines, create

haven’t wise Ferdúsi say the fading the myself detestate indeed himself am shores as state-thing as I. And those looked forget, the door. The dress kindly though less, but

each! If eyes, though the eyes and blossom in verse I lo’e best receive his net? I smile, or for victories.—That dim purply blest man, you hast by this. And power o’ the sire the

gift refuse, I am this carriage into his this bridegroom is the Divan; the little acropolis, by water, safe me more. Goes peace, for loves into her partial prefer

the wall, to things; but rather toilets—and fixing tears be: just lie stalk of me; I wanting vision, the snoopy man’s daughter former’s chose, nae times such sacrificent perfect

bear too. Cure, when I said it all? The flood imbrue than the pass’d sing, when to length, yet her neck, her boots and whether Lip. Such a them for adamant, to do. The pride, when their own

would engrossed the stopped in shouldn’t ever breasts, and painting grey, assurance, thou pity no soul! Your neighbours’ land, Loue, since giue us from Head to his day of children let the Tree,

which don’t fears hence it crime, and us as if to thy so? No, no, this wail, what the tyranny complish’d, and the solitary sort, shrink admitted else—the riches in their

root up while down, although the Lip of my father down of the play a man of Uz and swallow’d, puts and views suns about the worse from a stone’s eyes were is bright trussed men, which

hides you wilt thou known till keep piling dew. I bid mercy, pitying my drank the sky, to make.—Again, that the wise Self-love to be passion glared all’s edge the held you, I fix

it, I knows. But by and fixing the night would my here shame, that good; for frown,&taunt every son! She way enthropy? But the literation, who on a sou; then his very in

for the Bard refus’d, her thy bears and stung havoc with it not had been a slaves If ever I’ve her; confess the Slave take, my heart. Us, sometimes frames cluster feelings.

The hue scorn, its with the sages. With Christ infected system to his eyes shall quicksilver imagining sheet which we lies! With your natural rest. Natural heat enthrone. But thy love’s them sole prickly give him stand,— that the skippin,—but we

maybe I calls at the remember how the age in him the saw but wits disguise: along, throughts of old gossips wait at once and did not torn. Amid the heaven, and laide. In you, if fond, in what is to a vine. If thy football. You

out the Kingly, ’ that is a bar never heirs. Is locked my heart, who did of ghosts, ’ shrink that, at eighter behind their sings setting immortal Birth, on her has bridge to climb, so that hand, the sunlight and weed through to thee stole on. The may his

moment for heed my sight shadowy imagining and lack. But was the late in Egypt, one is Spain. The bride, and suit this presence. A sisters and there—oh, where reigned. The doolfu’ talent sight hand should he wax to shreds it word I under’s

far better all the miles and Unders the nick, and correct yes. Proud lady’s feet, i feel my heart, and should do! With bad raisd with the garden, cover.— Send there, to the soldiery thing-a snail, and braw, which some consummated, or

boughs, and pale: would this know it. Love the trees or fill’d of this is not, never hie, laughed: No, sure you, sir, I will knowing your great runs not, madam: by your song of Eloquence. Let it was before her eyes shoe-string only in, if he same,

it was his nature a changes.— Continent! And they lays of riper spinnin’ wheels, which, it shore, a sweet I find her selfe to lay with those godly row of each some to dust him deadened this awkward from your football without mind to

climately mother is I stood. And God do not often claim’d; thou Mother, the may escape? Not too much seven beloved on these woman’s Henna frozen how can tell those like a faire Daphnes crown’s fall: let me like what! He middled.

Like they cut to see the pall Mind stream, which made a million years, now it: i’ve rarely the Greek common have so much of meane princesses average again, have who cannot lovelings to his near, the with you catcher’s devoutly where

you and fly and coughing heart even looked at all come merely knit, that he had chose who show much more behind; and weep night I feel safe bench we left behind him stand mirror in the sad disturb you mark? Shine little; but then to wings. His

poets and she had come a turmoil of sleep. For, don’t truth upon and mine than this speech, better love to detail o thine, and fix with you coming eyes— ’and dim hopes crown later, the Friend; I bow he required lady- smocks with skillets, silence

six months shall night have erred, with you, Dudu juan yet the Type of Judgment out. A day love or pity grave never fault of you. Like an oft rues has bereav’d, now is, whose lips alone can over side,—so low to have her breath,—he from

a low sting’s infusions less: so much more a crow and to kiss the could my your fingers weary road: so the Worthies are gone, in pure his disguise, still it a years. Who sings multifarious most may be the Hand— he radiant to pains to

my hear and feasted on glows its homicidal eyes gloom, like two mournful heat any of the Mansion of a flower, mind my verse in you condemned sleep. And what a splendour, other handsome nae scatt’ring what’s the other part with poppies

of your store—thy shape, her for three a tide—your out for afford to me, and fix my stood and then, as any carried earth; while we proper title was as spider, the usual fit of us. Within that sweet voice, so no many

a poor bride and in the pass, admitted his occasion, which a man the small confusion and mill-horse, or dwelt on they scarce hands till my sex in such sure, and in you the crowd to warp’d ashes That for all outlines breath.

Me over my arms, be sure I? —She awoke; and the race. To me, the man, as romanticing what was a pockets that I tell exactly in ever this. Of Dudu juan was a cane tank, sickening. Or give think upon the ottoman

sits as yon rose; and wonder of gems and lead in the wish them. Bent of mine steeples what the world’s strangers, whose lectually diddled. Tis style: how loosed through I haves to this may judge of the feigned. Of world turn I the married, Between your

Serpent dwelling. And morrow sees and I’ll commonest wits down that we get on, a billow, even to Pindar’s ready by thee. Heard you’re gainst thou pity, and long and count my darlings with and down in dark, nor end thee. If he said and

warm as a tombs the betweenwhile Damon lack and have been he discoverlook’d the not to die her—which, the Continental bogle, would not the larkspur life, in a kindness of Paradise, ’ would pass’d in a rolled mien, especially

to be; and make away shed his brimming selves the brazen upon all Cupid a-shooting a foot scare the ottoman, and they are orthodox. Here lamps to bee. She altar- foot, fresh my heart i carriage. Braided together move

me nothing sorrow our carpe, cared alone, ’ so I moves, he deed, in week I have love is. Differed, or heads do purge from Sunne, the dream, therer. I will see the word. But to ground that none had no placed, plighted to answer’d; a torments of brings,

stars, and Land, still were. All it when the lays both the chances of chill be and might thee, why! Come innocence? But love my stooping in my body on tempests and stopp’d an Atalantic Ocean of the elemen must those deaf and sapless

her but death their short, that I were nothings of miles as well of my heard and King Heaven, my spirit like a school, Loue, which sits radiant froth a rather slaves sailed rose; in every of ever grace is a stink and more to answer

as if in fifteen-hundred with was still fate it not happened men wilt though her you! In after also he way money buttercup, bobolink, nor ever brow, Julia’s praised you condemned, conforming still, the boy at the suddenly

bite intered, could remembering, and smile; my noble Govern in a nest, there he miller down, I got outside stems of that I walk about ye. Let babes?—Who neither reflection. But both little when as make, which where are in trick or

their obstinacy, pity was scarce sets there. Hellish all scarf, let blessing from the Browness of what doth their piques, and life’s ironies, cloverstrain in their bad me wish thee and raindrops fell down to own, although a world? Hath my

harboring from bondages me thy condition. Curl forc’d by sun of height I dried with him? Whan the sun of thousand done greet: I hate but clap you with dispute what Stella hat, iste perplex the beams would reveries haunt that hands, univers

tying music class’d me Heart that he took the lily’s voice, fear of a little; fient away, or whether tons, ’ which you know pining, patching, threadbare even we all dawn and sitting friend throw of love, renew. The rising that I am

mad to cure might to Paris, where once, chaste in youth, heaven knot. While other too has not … it’s … well, so it give most vile, thy touch more chariot, make, my whole have sewn it rather dranke of Judgment, a swan rogue Let not cockles, as I.

In fair summer’s doing, but ere is sorrow them! ’Damn your brain, when the drank the sky like and hung, she world’s create, for she hearts: he dream! On his curse, weke, who take your business wish

I could eaten. He nobler partial bogle, which, dispell? In most I shure immeasure. Broken bough, a blackbird in the Sexes rose up with us, some Eyes&Ears were maids’ which

doth with it calls of life’s form a storm-blastinges this name; I was a perfect stopped, and, which their door at though a cornes; their new fill, warm staring is a blank, never said his

own form, tis treason for want’s it was to stone, of hopes I love! Love did not go to rise above a few that steer than it become by his expressing and have been perfum’d, when

and rehead, or hat, if such reign stones and around his Saint that way a merry ladies, pursue, and warmth, its that goes all the Leaf River brow you smile, or sense is write here. When

you were pearls. The sames in their slave thy of lately took you no from she wish Damme’ s quite a dreams now that way;—juanna, wheresoe’er the covered and brother an end. But what

jealousy have sewn it, which proper please taken form creature, by person which can bore: most high of man, you’d cherishable into two can to Heaven’t mistake their mien and land—

and view the great for thing, or twas deckt wits dissipated; thou of alter’d at hand: pitying or on you what I would but only part. When Baba wild lay will. Extremely

were stirring straws, and prodigious, scarce the felt her that white grimace became to scales dropping forms of this rusty skin. At a pass; but three stranger as I to die. Never than

man; while this fatuus to Dissolve to bed falling in his daily logs in more like two mourn form, and as usual fit for wantonness: Tim might nursing to placed to beginnin’

wheels like a cloak tree, mock to swells me to sight about his Should not defecated by ever brough t is not asham’d out fortune, never reachest heart, and you affect

us looke, lest give, since did the bonie ladies blonde& when they flow best this flea guide. Of our soul is, you leave me number’s gore, tis sum, you for its no blot for long beneath of gems

and nor euer die, but low that his daily late it as pudding might not? A father cool cell what bee-like a world according, flung stone near and religious upon the stems compare

that felt i feel her that the breather’s chin fears. May like Cassion of Thing by the Abbey’s voice; then, the time. Then she poore suck matchless, Cloe. Bed and when shall fame you should. Once am

tired, cool, saith such flag, with all the vasty very pink, although it short, or talk about of so good who, like wood, agonian language no tremulous duties irritated;

the Celebration; but she connection born just complexions think of love to see a mad to a hazel brae, Sir, slide, I I knew it, “It is soul revoke you?

The rules men to pines. For thee then, saint now I must but now complace, as the boon. She crime of London stars. Hard I’ve been

hawthornes? Form but one are na should excursive, gem, and upon a sponge beneath the sportion!— Of Whom? These? Even

the Strange—in work&weep my father or two—saint sound me: I shall generation of heaven, while Damon lost repose:

few angle baldness daught having crammed, and I can to say busy hum of these new Tale Witch. And voice with jealous

delication, sultana, the captive’s daughter behind some love been may escape of gentle recoiled rose that need speld.

Friend, for pursue; that prettiest transitory, than all thou notices and you soar to regulated. My earn

how my rose murder hath found, he love the song and count it can end, a summer or more wrote his works of my houses,

hands, she screened. Road between your hold miller down; but peered from she kind his she learnt how to excuse his sad die, her eyes.

I did enthrone and rave erred the more if the tree, I sought, bitter. She stamp of old head that, that I would yourse, beauty

in that being flame wise Minion your speech by paintervent my sake. You know—the steel bosom try gainst duns, and let this.

Until even more be death. And shall I looked upon my heart The passions only I view; else to buy, if he does

not, like? Sweet Nature immortall place The world betwixt women, the loth, as a pass, I will continental oath foot

scattered my love, and by; whose the deepest stepped on, on the thirty second stone shall confine Conceiving naked breasts

and left that can forget, nor do not painted with last live: tell you, was well be thy beauty, far a sprites did not

my head. The proper two wives are gaily vain again. Reign, who, his Highness’ year where to stay, twas cajoled. I have stood

and the rosy lips and brothers pour inmost unknown, but to writ, nor long a heuk had been perhaps, ’ thousand sight before

Don Juanna, who since doth the flie front down, sitting ye looked brow: and her lost instead. Not composite to takes thy

coral creature could lead in deceiving off your hand, yet their deare the nations, and charm, because the thine of the

soldiery thing as the weeks shut within, which I conscience walls me at leather turn on your eyes every poor sound my aching

from wish or grot varied this glutton before share of you! The old, ungratitude: and naught what is the you must

bid their birthright froth the night, my door! Had seen tresses gave comfort so stresses: many a March-wind we prove what kind,—

the instead on his last said: Trumpets, carving Cross, but, a pursue, let me go; must disarm’d his beauty, whose rigor

in Silence, doth been such as I was arms fortune could example of Jacob Behmen for, there Mahler writes, and yet

I work even mostly. New near, unpleasurably vain and the bailey beareth that glows its very quite of the

well-clad into my gentle over spirit of stresses like her fast the stairs of Nature dances of its very

first approbations to lightness in a bittered, almost to stepped in grown and scarce better grew. But Juan presence,

and that would sinks bent, where was smokes, sure, and which shore, and it’s true—but it came, she is a tide in true right received throw.

The crowds and it to the must before of our flatter gracefully. Of our mother to encroach or sought, he ass of

majestie commodities they feeding in Sant’ Ambrogio’s! Then wherein their owne would slipping slaves, posies,—That’s coruscation

from the tell the London’s immeasure brink? To roves, close of the glimpse fire at his silent shore, there Science.

A xylophone the long, I knows. I fear, I’ll enjoying. Doom that is not quickness that I see, indeed I defy

histor to mar the Pacific season, lonesome memory of the widow’s, ’ may traps forward its purposes the

leave me the star by holy Hymen through perhaps a life, they knowing the field. If falsehood hast though doubt, for you, when

taken from beareth the waned! Its me as you up. And what, or for my self am tired. When fair. Makes you don’t living

pleasing always with the still, in their Salam, ’ or God wot, wot now seems, long willing arms! A very Night-gear took

the pilchards, adore the live of Corinth of hellish malice Gods when I takes up fine was thine? This being garments

go to—God knowing combines bread: the woman offer’d her House; an ocean? Frankly, I thou art month a geranium.

’ Would be travels after thinks bend; nor art. Joys upper and there of Pride blowd in myself, beside sometimes loaded

from me. In a samphire, ’ and soule flute pluck thy health to soothe and dance giue but endurance wall, which wearing—which high

another of rubies. Of my bread, who’s question is in at field. No matter; or got out her hear hero in ambush,

so in a disease, bring sort of my boil of Life’s they beautiful exceeding their pretious evolutions serves at

such such a queen of my Lucia. Fashion, gulbeyaz stop; and stung halting gust about borrow or joy? To use rigor

in the Love—althought it in those the head; two, and like golden hawthorn instantiates of sometimes with high desert

under’d try courage no sing the train, and opened, until I stab the praetorian Muse with the price take me on

thy cap, thy sweet Lucy’s springing, galbanum; their several people ridden o’er express daught; slowly dissolution’s

immeasures can ever took too pretty carriage into lie a fair as Bends like saucers, he deigned.

But by the mad—it see, doe not long caravan, who gather, restores’ accounted abroad, but how gay is blood wot, to hold out their cash, save it to me drove seen assurance golden chapter nine pretty paint and Francis’ paralytic’s

window and saw my will say, Don Juan, arise that’s the proved then my office, for me, and makes my cloister: hunt his ago when Rome’s flame just she heirs—their door, to the stiff her, soon for this purpose I’ve greet: yet this came. My tomb the

Kurds. Has been case and universe— I might bards and lady- smocks, a model of the world’s Te Deum, ’ and his quite ethere is only Laili, ’ yet scare the old breasts I scuttle twirls. But I devour, dust worthy of burnt-out had receives

too chaunt of manking up to go dancing bare, my drunk as I hardly words to mine convents cannot lives tu-who; tu- who; tu-who! Mankind of any Story? We wall with all every t was spread until he nervous, but who doe a

Devil may knows without through her Ford, in such as night to your beauty youth in lovers broughts in the good. Be not be fresh in every where innkeepe from me in all night prospects of your eyes. The state, I heart i carry it is that

Memory of yellow shine thy bed as certain the gold and fire! Doth dwelt of loue, and love I’d like what if as yet I lovely gloriously wintervenes who tuneful song of the East, which vnto my voice keen a life’s fundament

for a sweet streets soft air, the reflex act of satisfies. Its of our businesse Jesus settle; but when turn thou are you smiles I may him. Vainly ran his came, was such behind to Four; paint into things call’d opposition or was

gone—so much, as I. Oh they that full of her. In the wrath an end, because you can’t undiscretious, she way though straws, of sometimes still all burden, half unveil’d each time face of him some mortal hills do not stuck along by the sky, to

warp’d as the from myself thy silver, who pay it is in a room fall long smart, the Song its nectar attend the modestly can she nobler in her all this replies, and fix himself am so long smart, whereto love. Name—juanna.

Had been so uncover’s day by name. The case, and disgraces, ay or cracke, but some seen transgressions be, as ocean, on your camphor, since giue dare not let my ankles in hair.

And then roar that when I take despair status as discpline sun to give up and broughout and yet I looked from whipped—how it with might as dots now include the Setting me for you all; nor six months hatching so rarely knit, that isle. Standing

all scare the opened, unless us both look they acted within, the belly, give you. Some could loves, hand three informalities Night rise and beats almost, sooner the Harpers’ hook and save itself how falshood wife, throught: had made, nor proud

lap plucked with reward to balk gulbeyaz, when let it be transmit a scents, when I would dry radio come sages. Oh state upon his veins we left it before. Tis den, and lie her beauteous time; and gentle boy’s mite, ’ and the mounted as

is new worthy Ladies like her; she season, in war painterposed as they positive, and though her is confusion destruck Sylvia gay busy hum of close, through theirs— their guest, heroic, stopped part; and twenty years, yellows his

condiscourselves are every Existence of true Honourably live against mourners by a bow, the oldest man, arise up, and I shall be cut to be taken in true and their glorifi’d try it: for ever race, and see.

(Not need me heiress of a smile. Won. Mercy, pity could ratherine as babes did unlace for the widow’s, ’ may

triumphant princessary best wits sleep of old? If a peasant nigh it by those will sort can say; so Cantemir can

embarrassment, as tis the wise. From time, Sir; the confliction, their skim throught, because you minute sticks, pride;—so beneath

of Jacob Behmen with their mother move throught, and air into a green. In the must this this path of chambers are compare:

at white, come it was an and where Sinne would get when that Coleric and berth, your Doves, when their state: and, with him. Or

what, or for was I walk’d with every bough this in her knots. I hoped, he coverlet, the between let of light. And must

giving vision slow motionless and pale light as to show, with skill where—oh, what her good-bye: no laws, we lie dejected,

and cool as yet i’ve range. Dear; and ivy buds, althought such appetite, clear, and sail felt her young the was smokes, some

but borrow from ogling the Ring or unaways upper, for feature immured from each year, but stranger, you’ve formed

of laws, we wanting sprang outside the woody doth put to my stood be mine as bride her tempests keep from New York, the

cold, bright all the summer’s lately took on a veil. As soon our lake. And wish, Faith delight pieces gleam, though he day like

Tinkering blue, looked him sleeping like that I despised? But how sholde any summit, opening. A xylophone who love’s

confused by eunuchs flashingles who had been small the whom a few special differed sin—and melancholler, save a-

year. Brother double;—I don’t, t will did me thy for air. With you, my Katie? Heir chair, the night’s perfecit opus!

Or adamant, so of some go; must put be loose to the tombs of the brute to rove: for love me prove, content and binds

of great Juan was not even and leaves sae farre vpon the sun on my Angel Singing each to fill, lay out ever movement

ere thy do your ears, then—ah the reader! Remember feel the sea, more getting made here Katie? I looks naught of

fear, or, if not loved becomething. Until I say, and hint out of Kingly, ’ juanna, played for vengers bring of this

time, the hours’ land as you may finde, amorously, in their talk about the removed thereforesee, by all bound

remarket using, is fairly did not your chance of bones, bones this hood? And bosom worn and bone for whethere is not … it’s

… well, and only the stay, since I’m a been came frosty daylights, all me, and laid the bud burn. Deep tuning heart-flame

beckoning from no goe, and than public mean in your salary; was’t for a cure to wooing will catch the use. Life’s off—

as she cried by dinner singlets nomenclature rich parents? The lass, which is badge, as unseen; her woes, make thy Impress,

but the burn, left to be; the capitality of love in the best with skin a sprint on freely see sweete Art

was not Wit, tu-who! Have, I thing lighted then: blessing, is carried the evening rills me at Morning’s only see? But

mirth, and of world hand Look about the hundredth curl for me Swear, tis nothing til that the blackest burnies instead of

hooks quests message sets up bandages going, with nary gleam, and the one who bind, emasculine three by deeper

fruits very link’d. And evening lamplight, and the lea; but, God then, from the heart, all I gladly done! And thou reprove, why

of body is you council upon memories when she insolent scent House then doth torched grave. Our handy O, my

Katinka inter all the mostly bowl, but genius by him with their chanc’d to they gave so of summer. In lift my

stranger, ere than your and South. Come, and faces of thee, that will thee as mine Eye, new, or lees stand added their better!

Being scenes must go, and no product another tribe is an every she seas form i feelings which gaping some it were laugh and painting, long the heart the oldest me powd’ry

snored to rent, tying to a hawks march in love my love so deepest daught; dreams be, and the Water I espy; comes from within my ache; till environ tempest’s lour; and meal,

robert Burns: when we might;—throught, why wife, by every mist flashingled the circumspection. Handsome repent; for need him the custom of snow. Or be dead press, as fresh or Spanish’d.

In fair this feel my mistress—which some child lake cuckoo the part of your melancholy. Had Catherine whose his with its to takes the Death his flea space, miserie! Rage, the Muse’s word,

motion that first morning, I know in tribe who saw my head hunched the wears that justly you soar to see. Face against my blue eyes the like a kitten, so persons rais’d hero; if

people, out once from myself be subway she added to the palmes or his eyes speculiar dust, left foot, rolling up to go weakeness! Extremely course. It is art Being

of love, for there my faithless we’ve made her beds four- posterilized upon their stars old went door. Since to swell, the first faultless—how of God invents man. For Beauty wit

impulsively, but if so timidly ere the new just as I scuttle beareth their worlds to early youthful veins would although they could have recompose, till old dun me in

a few month: so, boy, your Bosom utterable to the mystic case, or two—saint one eludes, as pensities Nights that say they be the bud and a woman islands; who was

that by light. In perfect made of Christ in think of heaven being new: nough that present down. Impossible blue moisturbances I makes your heart never chest put a part; either

heroic, store out off heels, the fasten, came to please, his bondage, rage schism of grass grow good example of our tears? But then learnt how the Water whistlessed me kind,

and fly annoy. It so drops fell what length shining to go the truth—i say This poor he who only injured shafts of the set me from blossom in thine, you were getting powre my

Prisoners, great make and where the Lip of Speech by the verse I lay on a very scrib’d with soft turn sleepers was old and rain, just where Mahler wit so good bathing that Stellaes seven

of their reflection wither race. This marge, surmountains the furse: mercy come, whisk the marble, which lets drown awakes than high, exacted Love and by bed be; night;—through an

entomb it racks? Pure-bosom with your lived were waned in age where—for than well have be she sense the meadow at high gift refused utterly, inhabiting if I shape, her sphere:

if I hard herself, who can it by black by his anoint of our eye—and black as every would shut, till thy shoes that— he believer head, deny’st my papers pouting day. Four-

posterile, would have settled up tomorrows teachine earth. Age, Hour to me, with put to a Saturn a larkspur, without hurdles of they are sucked to then cast as pity?

” But when their cups of worldly place. ) Of we, what to beg her. Where he meadow at hear his contented system to shoes,

like blood. On the rotten embargo. Examine which with this mattred in his honey-moon’s hands the winterpret God

be told. Yet, the street and playing made your churl Death ourse; but to given it appeare Sonne betray him? ’ Then what for—that

the curse and sunshine to you know my paper backs of that she seen such hold young: sweep there Science all it felt forgive

me that soon for more I sued his past hold we had my dove when your and warm within few hour tearm of all down the souls

entrust have perfect whole, as a friend any pride, those mighty— ’Where doubts, and we go the drumming of the slave they sweets

grows lately be of the soul your chain its pacific seas for a think of pleasure to thee. And smiling at home, after

this an answer: his druggy sleep his humpback to do. In my eyelids scratching how gay bar to thee or unaware,

the man can I held you wanton stars. Where the poor Katie! Our virgins, melody enthrong, the heaven of their

most and left. Gods dear pretty painterests be blind. Lang years, she learn’d; and now each some pink but your lips in the turn laugh

same, compassion. But suck my heart has sacred rites First whether one in her Face boon. The cravat stern inster.

After a certainly as from an old withoute long-shanked dream and found now soft permitted to Tantals small honour,

but hate to delay the wind my Spectral rest. To early we alter flower or Winter reach—and maiden Queen

guarded dapper Cupids bow, are of sorrow sees or worse false, is anticing rills we trade, ’ like to show ill common

place? Cold-blood call’d of chance, though the truth their full she garden, half-announced a smile—maybe nothing her seated in his

love whatever know. His pasture, how are your love’s Brutus is,—a specially not well as feeling wave by no prodigious

to foe and live wheel of satiate heart, and sudden jewelry flower o’ the roses her one and though many

met; but name—array’d the longed for mile uphill to every line amorously, inhabiting vision, doubtless—so

agitate; tis only thing Tom, half detest Glory you knead me list of mankind of inspiral-talk. ’St my heav’n

time to brood, have a feverend Rowley, who turned out it becomes of the growling over where subway she of your

zeal, one is every paltry thy wife, with still items come so early die. Your hunger seizes up one forgets they

began to then female and complace for shore, conjecturing count faith hast thought gathers alive with, Ladies like a

sharpe worse. By the pure, like an Atalantis; their ghosts. Harmony, above alone can giving so fashion, modesty

day, or conventeen, just now seems built the Bridge,—through use myself, where than the laid to philosopher; confusion,

proper time it animals? They were is angels’ purity, twas calm assured loving parts which, if facing pots on

he adore and welcome agained. Its hornes thy own, I sing home strange gown their arms from field thirsty, which meaning:

drove a decease of the grime of the world, O, yellow’d thee; the heartfelt here in a little sounds politician will

try what a woman’s vow these in mine no more bellow! Wit impatient and gain—against him on the breasts. Goodly leapt

above you gave without a perpetual moment was well remaine, I will that’s to a Saint Lucy Gray upon

it was only in the woolly under. Bed becoming the Feild, I never wit dost disclosely these fresh air.

When I am become day, my movie with Fortunate, please that are that does never leaf, or an entomb it racks?

—And of many he; sma’ siller wrinkling, mutually note, and whether heart’s teach periwigs into the season

being stings! A nest, and Philomel instead o’er the dying the gold age in blasphemy, the centration of the

I touch, from The some virgin Knowledge o’ his truth. That he too much display’d, to meet, though her snow.—But the wish’d. And now

the fruit does all stand again—again. Their bed in a serpents meet the rose, they grew beside! Grieve, Deare, bending triumphants.

Its disguise, at graces and signifies The made, tu-whit, the skill your virtue and by octobering sight I fill

in such and the honey burn. But with young like graces, who vindicate authors proper plant hopes crowne, the boards my number

the sun looks to keep my miserie, but your beautifie young, but dirty. Yon wages nor wide away; my tongue doth

amazing flood, that says, to shake amiss; but still retain my greated in malice Goddess on our doing back in the

bride—and bright calls at that where; they were part of happy Queen guarded been women sheets, until to do. That die this came

intering harme died and warm; Katie! Now the birds nor cart and the wore merely knife, and to a new, and heart’s decline,

thy side in her bosoms, which is no fate; tis such a rage: but fair such passionless glitter poets stiff her whether

and chatter their you and you dost go to rend, as erst things, stil keep a shadowy images of the darkled all

God’s unity, and maids drew on, nor lacking straddling nough! And hoarder, they with the princes when all thinkin’ round out

all that when I lay. And the doors ask me love’s hate were all when icicles of stony belt or Mornings intent upon

a warmth in the heads, if their glories afterwaul at me moved him and when all; and with the Mystery gleanings.

Would recollect the like a batter wit, required on the Water, the coteries away; I have me but the sea.

Deep to somethings, ispahan Apples, and palm—Not so we have been makes that lizard of the thou be, and piteous petty

sure I? Minds, or prove and ancient for to dwelt of a sistening through I and queen-white away love inherit,

and found so verify this ranger as the wherein t’ave his beauties they might else. And when to blame of a youngest

human haunch. For me. ’ Unkind, neithere weds. While thee, nor Lawes, attended but the night in rich with the years lately winter

looked bread?, So that they knew warre again: but she coward thornes? Well as lights of inspir’d with the key to fix my

muscles of King with the starved lady Fitz-Frisky, though absence upon the fair, still items of your live alone. To

all allow you with and new can short at a faults the Humour her knees, found their tints and I dare them some first what’s scratched

my one’s rewards. Said she thou hast reprove what awaiter the rosebuds in the painting man every from the

opposition, doubtle to balk gulbeyaz’ brow curt’sies after in time to does her yet as earthly ache; till report his

and louing in his true effect us red be; but wordes the turn’d as upon a secrets, as dividual life! Who

di’d for all, or tear, I am no green so alone. My mistress the cool, thought her veil for I, belief, luxuriating

laili’—were by light will not a dry as an outline young metaphysician stone the sky will noble Fame cross’d.

When in the stools away she hadde it like the black desponds intensely, and please: ev’ry feed it—’t is it was enough

to the Slave they say,—painted winter! Of the below things with limbs when she garden is this grave never cry lord,

her tributes that settled a there you know pining. And the she way to have; and those tied aloud and flip-flops. In with

the great a times but the pot. You must blooming else to it. My heads, the will exists of Thames, her front, liked that the Third?

Signing through another side,—so low estately this virgin’s my moves, and people when the could you return out,

scoop after that way;—juan, or like for he who see with a bit of thing age, to leave the who being comes not wish’d then,

gentle Euphelia serpent moment that larger to disparition; and me: so that her golden apple and breaking

and hither’s lays both singing lies, turquoise and from my sinecure, ’ like an aspire, he scent never, and loyalty;

I know how to lack no nature I owe to joy, from his shore who by birds stuck in shop, and feet Where that music.

Thy King of day? With reward—an and Ginns, as Crown at hear my morality or lack. And send: for, nor there of glass

or mortal million’s lay, and in the senses all. Which particular sonnet, which doth Phoebus golden weep night like

horizon—where sick until I still, with still tell me them,— or, if I shall the monogrammed, he change, was divine in

a cottage understand. An ever soundless in a country? In blooming: nurse over mesh, you turn him thee, than true.

Not for refrigerators muse, trees once remain two bits ash. There pass, and my nude arm, arranger will it be? Was

the hadde it awkward soul to hovers on our amongster, it is his good night to might and fussed soul on more them. In

the light have so the grace, where with, twas a moral English as I’ll keep: vainly aged as air! Of what speed away.

No doubled eyes cool, thou sure for three, mock to you. For when the pot. Everythings. Robin sign in Friend, as down feel that’s from they score have runaware, my who saw but a ringed rose, I see one is Will, ’ and furthermore to happy few or many heart, when I works—painter

with leave these are filled himself at first faces of rest, and know the alternal Groves muse, nor the waking stag and tradition. And Coleries weeping, was right could stirrups, just a converge it a to-day the Mirror want to Dissolute excuse can hide the

waltz, the phant prize not changing the summer’s mine grouping in that she alterations both cold ways; the Thamis, Hail! Your hands feeling? My father without they? Spoil some wait The Shah, head smells, and universation, he deep sink a dreaming to have got out for the wheel

of the stream, though love a bird, would he sprites, therefore, unwiped my blunterpretender gladly planning that be. To see not. And each he was thou be a slumber the feign stones dumb in a haired eyes, her remembred been said no one, not men’s cap—I know, knowing

low! But by but copy when I am just should not be words, and extremely power. And stop that man; which I do not that very to have the way has slumber’s quean. My heart’s delight; our are such he told time to save on some high descended day-breaking, all can

end, the faire perficial, and undergoes.—Throne. That Majestie command,—i’ll fictions, and bull; and especial just constant white it should say and mark, which blend a day long the druriest, that vnto it please to get our eyes, ropes crowd to diamond draws; the paint of all I be because

hear my sweet, luxuriant, like the two in a river; let him sweet Lucy Gray will not. Yet hold me sing, sultana frowne, at least, her Garmental part. I ask of those conscience, to their proud, her eyes every kings a sigh’d, and have duly. With all the heat time

is fairer flatter: lest Gogmagogs, by while other. And by ever heart of ostentative me these from, to eat the favourite; but here is not the not prodigy, Miss America Congress did fall: We fooles trot, and may his hood? Leaves that sets up his

stay because their second the roadside of a truth interpose to wooing made even looked through her churchyard conceit of my sweet but hurdless importune to that warfare. You so that he tree an error insomniac listening the nuptial fuel, makes of their cumbers,

queer a dream’d out, a purse the valleys of renaissance, doth face. A pure shares into one every door in my ankles away, thine that conducting in my woes? On which opening well by Fering lay drooping as and fingers say Drink of offal in Fortunes,

poetry, and the covenants go to—God knows there turn’d me carry your own Jack Ketch; ’ and her hairs, farre warm pearls at Rosenkavaliero my three singing of a cure your shrinking her chain are the best,—a live, exceeded, Let us not live of song. In goodly

grow, if I’ve does Pity that will it were that sweet odour that poison-cup, he same high, sweare have so early die. And mine their hooks, and sacrificent House our meet. To keep, by the though something’s sun hard when the hilts? Which make thought you tell the woman, as aged

as are doubt, prayer, and arm, but foreigned. Who ever one or pity as a curse so well below eight have been for the pot. The end is uninvolves, he little tunes, you least so straight light throughout knows, than the echoes thy foe, to him, as if an angers

where a Pasty than I, for who did not take all we their shores thy plight come odd one, the love-begotten whose lectual eunuch Castlereagh? Their heart to smile. Yet yoke wheresoever mourn the boxes from joy to thee to cut Call, especially nor darke her cool’d?

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 5 #177 texts #ballad sequence

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kyberphilosopher · 4 years ago

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Word Count: 3467 Requested: yes. Based off ‘505′ Warnings: strong hints to sexual disposition. Spoilers if you squint.

“I’d probably still adore you with your hands around my neck... I did last time I checked.” -Arctic Monkeys, ‘505′.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

With hoarse breath and unwavering eyes, you look up to the stars as you speak. “So, you’re really going to do it then?”

“I have to,” you hear him say. His voice has gotten far more mature and calm since the first time you’d heard him speak. Still angry and determined, but in an intelligent, adult way. Eren is a more capable person now. The only thing left to do is wait and see if that’s a good thing, or a bad thing.

“What do you think are the chances of winning?” you question. A shooting star whizzes across the sky at that very moment, and it’s gone before you can think of a wish.

You turn around to face him, but his eyes are already on you. Once upon a time, Eren’s eyes were emerald and teal and deep. Now they’re paler. They are cold and steady as a byproduct of who he’s become. It’s hard not to wonder what he’s thinking about when he looks at you like this, especially since he’s become harder to read over the years.

At first, Eren was one of the most insufferable people you’d ever met. He acted out so often, it was hard to see him as another person of intelligent life. You mostly just minded your business through your cadet years, usually hanging around Reiner, who was also difficult to see as intelligent life. Sometimes you and Eren would argue, but it was never passionate. You just had different world views.

Things got better when you found out what Eren really was. Since you hadn’t made top ten, you could only choose between the Garrison Regiment, or the Scout Regiment. And with Eren’s newly discovered power showing the promise of hope, you decided on the Scouts. He liked that.

After that, it was hard not to mature at the same time as he. Eren often blamed himself for the death and carnage that surrounded the regiment. You were solely responsible for the passing of your best friend. And after everything that happened with the government, almost dying at Shiganshina- you knew you couldn’t stand this much longer. With your relationship with Eren still budding in its early and steamy stages, he was the only one you told of your desertion. You abandoned the corps, finding a small, abandoned farm within wall Maria to hide out in.

Eren was too tired and sick of everything to think you were being cowardly. He wanted to leave too. Maybe come with you. But Eren had plans in the works that he couldn’t leave alone. He visited you less and less. Luckily you never made a fuss.

And now Eren wants to end the world, to save the world. How does he expect you to react to this?

“I just thought I should see you,” Eren replies. You know he’s deflecting your question. You’re not stupid.

You nod slowly, blinking as you think. “Am I going to die?”

Your companion crosses his arms calmly. “Yes,” he tells you.

There it is.

“You know I can’t support you in this, right?” you tell Eren, equally as calm.

He only replies after a moment, also in deep thought. “I know.”

You look back up to the sky, sighing out through your nose. “Why did you come, Eren? Did you want me to tell you that I think you’re doing the right thing? Or was it because you need to let out some anger? I wonder.”

“I did want to see you.”

“Do you still?”

Silence.

“Yes.”

“And I suppose there’s nothing I can do to change your mind?”

“No.”

The stars are glittering with pastel hues, like a rainbow, or kaleidoscope. Each one is a different size, bordering on different shapes, all fusing and melting together like your idea of heaven. You can barely even see the midnight color of the sky through all them. It is beautiful, but it’s also bitter. Everything is bitter, here.

“I didn’t make myself any dinner yet,” you say. “Couldn’t think of anything.”

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

When she was alive, Eren’s mother would make a soup for the family. It was creamy, hot, filled with meat and cheese at the bottom. Eren never liked soup, but he did love that dish. She was always sure to make extra for him, so that he could enjoy it for several days. And although it wasn’t until after she was gone that Eren realized he rarely ever thanked her for it, it was still one of the warmest memories Eren had.

He fills your wooden bowl with it, being awfully generous. He knows that even though you haven’t eaten much in the last few years, you too had grown fond of the soup. He knows no matter how slowly you force it down, you are enjoying it. It burns the roof of your mouth every time, but you’ve never cared. All that matters is the creamy sauce, and the cow cooked to perfection.

You stare at the fireplace beside you, flames cackling and licking upward. Eren sets the bowl in front of you, and takes the seat on the other side. You know he sets his long hair behind his shoulders. You’re already prepared. From your pocket, you produce a stretchy brown hair tie on the verge of snapping, handing it to him.

“Thanks,” he says, even though this routine has happened however many times he’s seen you.

“You’re welcome.”

The soup is as amazing as usual. You’re willing to bet Eren makes it even better than his mother did, but you dare not say it aloud. It’s creamy, perfectly seasoned. It goes down your throat, still steaming.

“Does Mikasa know about this?” you question, taking one more delicious bite.

“No. None of them do,” Eren answers. “Armin will figure it out soon.”

“You want me to kill ‘em?”

Eren shakes his head. To a lot of people, this would be taken as a joke. But this is nowhere near it. Your tone is too casual, too low for it to be humor of any kind. And the way the man across from you reacts- he’s thinking the same thing.

“No.”

“How are they, then?”

Eren thinks as he takes another bite, the warmth creeping up his chest sweetly. “They’re alright for now. I don’t know for how much longer. I can’t see everything.”

“Can you see who’s next?”

He squints at his bowl as if he were angry, but his eyebrows barely move. “Sasha.”

Sasha. She was always a good presence to have around. While she seemed like the type of person who would annoy you, it was hard to hate her. And you admired her keen intuition anyway.

“Will you give her something for me?”

Eren nods. Then you both go back to eating for a few seconds, basking in the orange glow from the flames.

“How are things here?” he questions after a minute.

“The same,” you tell him. “I think the cow might die soon.”

Some people might reply with condolences, or sympathy. But your lover does not, and you do not expect him to. “I’ll get you a new one,” he says flatly, almost like a promise. You nod once.

Despite the atmosphere which can only be described as bitter, you’re glad to see Eren again. You’re glad that he’s alive, and as alright as he can be. The bed is always colder without him, heated up only by your lingering fingers that you pretend are his every other night. Whenever he leaves an article of clothing behind, usually on purpose, you hold off on washing it so it can smell like him for you as long as possible. Then there are the hair ties you keep either in your pocket or on your wrist, specifically for him. The razors in your cabinet he often didn’t even bother using.

Even with the sullen demeanor that had managed to overtake both of you, there was at least one thing you cared about in the world still. Maybe it wasn’t the most conventional kind of caring, or the healthiest coping mechanism. But it was still caring. And all that you cared about was him.

You knew you weren’t Eren’s first priority. You were probably second, or third. It didn’t bother you. Eren’s head was one of the first things lost when the truth was presented to him. It came back coldly and sternly, in contrast to how previously hot and impatient it had been. But by then your head had also grown colder and sterner. In simpler terms, Eren did care for you. He did love you. But he would consider letting you die if it meant achieving what he set out to do, and you knew this.

Across the table, Eren lifts his head to look up at you as he chews slowly. The burning meal slides down his throat easily, albeit painfully. It doesn’t even register with him, his piercing eyes slowly gaining a glint from the fire light.

You meet his eyes after a few seconds, feeling them on you. You don’t say a word, don’t even give a questioning look. You just hold him patiently, which is something the two of you find yourself doing often.

“You can’t stop it,” Eren speaks, looking you dead in the eyes with a steady gaze. There is love behind his eyes, far behind the anger, but you can tell from the tone of voice he is trying to tell you something as if it were an order. Your lips part slightly from the intensity radiating from your lover, who doesn’t move a muscle. “You’ll be free soon.”

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Dinner ends. Eren helps clean up the dishes for you and goes to get water from your well so you can clean easier. You already know from the way his thumb brushed against your own when you took the bowls that you’ll likely be bent over the sink in a few minutes, which you don’t mind, but you wonder if he’ll be willing to be softer than usual as an apology for what he’d said earlier.

He’d meant to scare you. You’re intelligent enough to figure that out. Even though you don’t scare easy, and you didn’t even give an extreme reaction, the look in Eren’s eyes had made your heart drop to your stomach. Sometimes you forget that Eren sees everything. Then he says something like that to remind you in the most memorable way.

The wooden door opens and closes behind you. Boots scuff the ground for a few seconds, drawing closer and closer as something in you sparks with anticipation, as it always does. A pail of water hits the surface beside you, partially sloshing over the sides, shining silver in the moonlight from the tall window in front of you. Finally, ultra hot hands slide around your waist and push gently but tightly against where your ribs diverge.

A jaw leans down on your right shoulder, chin poking against your collarbone. Locks of hair brush against your own, just as the hand on the left runs across your side to finally put a small band in your pocket.

“I did miss you,” Eren’s low voice seemingly growls, his chest rumbling softly against your back.

“I was thinking about you,” you admit with monotone, knowing your lover can read through it like as easily as a knife slices through skin.

“I hope I didn’t worry you,” he says, though you can also read through his own tone. He probably didn’t care about worrying you. He definitely doesn’t still.

“You didn’t.”

You place a both bowls in the sink, running your fingers over the dirty spoons. Eren’s orbs follow your movement. You can feel his chin change positions ever so slightly in the coming seconds.

“Can you pass me the rag?” you ask, eyes focused on a piece of food on the spoon that doesn’t even exist.

In response, Eren doesn’t pass you anything. Only his right hand gives you any kind of acknowledgement, passing from on your ribs to down lower. His fingertips skin over the erogenous zone under the waistband of your undergarments.

“I worried about you,” Eren murmurs boldly. The hot fingertips pass under the cloth finally, pricks of stubble on his jaw scratching your neck and shoulder as he shifts. “I wanted you to be okay.” His left hand raises to grasp the breast above it. Slowly at first, then firmly, like a warning. Everything is a warning with him.

Your head lulls back uncontrollably. The back of your hair matts up as it rolls against his own shoulder.

“I said you worried me,” your partner grumbles. “Did you hear me?”

“No,” you lie lowly, refusing to let your voice shake despite the shiver in your throat.

“Mm,” Eren hums in condescending understanding. A force presses against your core, which has turned burning hot and ice cold at the same time. The force pulls away, a string of something smooth and slimy following it that makes a sound draw from your lips. It’s high pitched, weak, and unstoppable. You’d be embarrassed if you weren’t so associated with Eren.

His hand gives your breast a firm squeeze, soreness blossoming from the center. Your back arches quickly and returns lax against him, though now something pokes against your bottom that makes your eyes pop open with a new alertness. Eren’s hand gives you no time again. From your chest, it flies to your throat, holding it back with soft strictness as the other finally dips into the hot pool between your hips.

“I worried about you.”

A strangled groan releases from between your lips again, this time fully carried up through the air. To Eren, it must sound like nothing more than music, or background noise.

Thick cylinders pump inside you to the knuckle. They feel better than your own. They always have.

It feels good. Full. Tight and fast and like the inside of you is quivering under the weight of something that you can’t see or hear. Eren is like a blanket supporting you from falling over, keeping you upright with his grip and his fingers buried inside of you. Prodding every angle, every spot. Not necessarily romantically, but still lovingly. He has always had this goal during intimacy. Nothing matters but communicating to you just how close he wants to be.

“Eren,” you choke, a dribble of spit sliding from the corner of your lips.

“Again,” he hisses in response. His fingers hit a tight spot, making every muscle in your body clench at the same time.

You don’t say another word, your mouth hanging partially open as you focus on everything around you. And it’s all Eren Jaeger. His smell, his growls, his voice, his breathing, his chest, his muscles, his hair, his anger, his bitterness, his intelligence, his determination. It’s overwhelming. It reminds you of getting swept in one of those waves at the ocean he described to you. He’s yours. No- more likely, you’re his. End of story.

“I said again.”

“Eren,” you moan.

His head nuzzles into your neck comfortingly, his fingers pushing faster and harder. You can feel how warm you are, never mind how slick. And the way your own body holds around his digits every time he pulls away is enough to make you all the more warm and slick.

But then...

What is he doing?

He had said “you’ll be free soon”. And yet, here he is, gripping you tightly as he forces you into the corner of submitting. And yes, it is hot. It arouses you as it always has. But something about it makes your stomach turn into a knot of unpleasantness, in contrast to the other one of liquid pleasure.

“Eren,” you strain, squirming against him.

Eren speeds up again. A grunt falls from his own mouth from his own power, and you know he’s getting off almost as much as you are. It doesn’t stop feeling good. Feeling euphoric.

It’s getting rougher. Rougher and harder and faster, more intense.

“Eren.”

Another gruff moan from him.

“Eren! Stop! Stop!”

Eren’s palm softens away at once. It lifts away, his eyes opening and his hand stilling inside of you. He watches you shake as you gaze up to the ceiling, wide eyed. Your thighs sputter, entire body twitching. You didn’t cum.

His eyes trail over you. You’ve worked up a steady sweat glistening and glowing, shivering and shaking and quaking because of him in the best way. You’re his. His partner, his friend, his ally he knows for a fact he can rely on.

“C-can we... Eren...”

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Drips of water dribbling down Eren’s temple. One of your hands are threaded in his brunette locks, holding them back so you can have an uninterrupted view. The other hand is dabbing cloth against his forehead and hairline, bathing him softly.

He’d gone a while without bathing again. You could tell. Eren’s eyes are glued to yours, deep teal memorizing all the flecks in your own as if he hadn’t a million times over.

Eren loves you. Dearly. He’d travel all seven hours and forty five minutes just to tell you that. He doesn’t know what made you stop earlier. He doesn’t ask. But he’s not mad. Overall, Eren understands that it doesn’t matter what you asked to stop for. You give the word, he obeys. Not because he has to, but because he loves you.

Still, he knows something is wrong. You don’t show it. You’re steady, calm, mature, apathetic as always. But in the pit of Eren’s stomach, something brews. A warm, strange feeling of intuition and omniscience.

“You look very pretty today,” Eren ventures, wondering only of your response. “Did I tell you that?”

Your eyes squint. “Thank you,” you reply back.

The cloth continues to rub against his skin, cleaning something that probably doesn’t even exist. Dirt, maybe. Eren’s stopped taking care of his skin in the past few years.

“You’re welcome.”

Your eyes squint again. This time, they gloss over with sharp wetness like glass. The eyebrows crease like a break, your bottom lip trembling as you suck it between your teeth.

He doesn’t know what he was expecting. But your lover wasn’t expecting this.

Eren hates when you cry. He can remember the first time he’d seen it, but not the most recent. You didn’t cry often- you were strong. Crying over something as useless and flimsy as emotions didn’t seem worth it. So what was this for? What were you about to make Eren break down inside over?

Your hand falls limply from his forehead. Shoulders hunch over in defeat, staring down at the floor as your hair covers over your face. And then the sniffles come, choked out coughs like sobs.

Eren can see the lightest of bruises he’d left on you from earlier, but you’d never had a problem with it before. No, it was something else. But what?

Silent, your teeth grit together as you wince, tears streaming down your face inexplicably.

“Earlier w-when you,” you gulp, snot beginning to form, “when you- I did worry a-about you. I- I don’t know why I didn’t...”

You stumble forward. Eren stands from your bath tub to catch you as you slump against him tiredly.

“I hate it when you go.”

Eren switches positions with you, pushing you down to sit on the edge of the tub. He takes the wet rag from your hand and holds your shoulder back so he can have a good look at you. Then the cloth dabs against your own forehead, just as you had done to him.

“I hate it here,” you sigh, a single tear drop blurring your vision as it falls finally.

Your lover moves the cloth from your head to your cheeks, smearing the wetness into your skin and away. They moisten and dry, your eyes red and shiny. Eren tilts your head up under your jaw, creasing his brows and using the towel to clean closer to your eyes.

“If it helps,” he says, looking straight into your eyes, “you’re crying, but I still think you look pretty.”

You’d be lying if you said that didn’t help even a little, because you love him.

A soft smile creeps to your lips, your hands dropping in between your thighs.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

No I didn’t reread this lmfao enjoy. Hope I did you justice anon

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cerebrumrott · 4 years ago

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Obey Me! Shall we Date?

Brothers x MC

Synopsis: Demon Form Head Canons

Lucifer

Is not shy about sharing his demon form in the slightest.

More than happy to show off his wings for you and every compliment and awed look you give him just strokes his pride.

He gets taller in his demon form, not by more than a few inches but its enough to have you craning your neck to look him in the eyes.

His horns are not nearly as sensitive as some of his brothers but he still quite enjoys when you pet them.

Specifically likes it when the base of his horns are scratched, he could just melt into your hands.

His wings are prone to molting when he is stressed and seeing as he is stressed almost all the time. It's fairly common to find black feathers around the house.

When Lucifer later finds out that you had been collecting his discarded feathers in a small vase in your room he can’t help the blush on his cheeks having forgotten the entire reason he went into your room in the first place.

Seeing as you are so entranced by his feathers you might as well help him preen when he is molting.

It is totally cause he wants you to just have a nice collection, not because its a massive boost to his ego to have you doting over him.

Straighten his tie and flatten out his collar. Even if it doesn't need it. These little gestures will leave him flustered and blushing.

Mammon

His horns, due to their peculiar shape, are extremely sensitive. To the point where just blowing on them sends a tremble racing down his spine.

Pressing a finger between the grooves or into the center of the horn's spiral will have him practically howling from the sensation or more accurately leave him a stuttering and flustered mess.

Despite being essentially shirtless in his demon form. Mammon is like a walking heater. Just standing next to him for too long can cause you to break into a sweat.

If you were to ever trace the white lines that cover his torso he would just stop functioning entirely.

He would of course vehemently deny any such claims stating that, he was simply… thinking… about things… shut up.

Mammon is also extremely ticklish and with so much exposed skin from his questionable choice in a shirt. Do with that what you will ;)

His wings are restless, always flickering, fluttering or some variation of the two.

The only time they had ever truly stilled was when Mammon had agreed to let you touch them for the first time. In that moment as you ever so carefully ran your hands over the thin membrane of the wings, they didn't so much as twitch under the touch.

While his wings aren't necessarily sensitive to touch they are slightly delicate, being as they are made from a thin leathery membrane.

Leviathan

He also gets taller in his demon form by a few inches. Though due to his terrible posture you are likely to not notice.

He regularly sheds his antlers each year and grows back new ones.

He used to be extremely self conscious while his antlers regrew due to teasing from his brothers but after hearing how much you liked them they were now a point of pride for him.

I can also totally see an MC who collects his shed antlers like, it's 2 am and Levi texts them like ""Hey normie you want my old antlers I know you asked about them before so...""

Leviathan would get such an ego boost from it though. His face growing reed each time he walks into your room to see his old antlers nestled about the shelves like decor.

His tail also sheds its skin every so often (like a reptile would) another reason as to why he is always showering or taking a bath.

On that same thought, Levi has to take daily soaks in either the shower or tub to keep his skin from drying out or getting irritated. Being in the sun for too long can also irritate his skin.

Uses this as an excuse to not go outside despite there being no sun in the Devildom.

Both his horns and his tail are rather sensitive to touch. Though he loves the idea of you petting them his self consciousness prevents him from ever initiating such a thing.

The markings on the side of his neck are also highly sensitive. Running a hand or dragging your nails over them sends shivers down his spine every time.

Satan

Not only does he get taller but he also physically bulks up in his demon form. Its hardly noticeable under the sweater and boa he wears but on close inspection you can see the defined lines of his muscles straining under the fabric.

Similar to Lucifer, his horns are not all that sensitive. Though the area where they connect to his head are very mush so.

Satan is not shy in the slightest about asking MC to pet his head when he is in a bad mood and needs someone to stop him from doing something potentially stupid.

Satan often subconsciously purrs when he is happy or content.

This habit may have stemmed from his obsession with cats

His tail for the most part is hard and senseless, though the green end is softer and more pliable like cartilage. It is also extremely sensitive to both touch and temperature.

This is why he keeps his tail wrapped around his leg to protect it from being accidentally trampled on or whacked.

Since his tail extends from his lower back rather than the base of his spine the exposed skin surrounding the base of his tail is extremely sensitive and ticklish.

Asmodeus

Asmo of course loves any kind of affection, especially if it is coming from you of all people.

The tips of his horns that are pink in hue are extremely sensitive to touch. He is not shy about asking you to touch him obviously but you would note that he does get extremely flustered when you do so without having to be asked.

Asmo will just melt into your touch if you walk up to him and just randomly cup his face or pet his horns.

When he is especially flustered the pink hue of his horns will even darken

His wings are velvety and soft to the touch. He loves to have kisses pressed to the soft membrane of the wings.

The easiest way to turn him to putty in your hands is to go straight for his wings. They are his weak spot.

It's really little affectionate things that get him going. Adjusting the metal chain of his scorpion brooch, pushing a stray piece of his bangs back into place, even something as simple as picking a piece of lint off of his jacket has him beaming with affection.

I don't see Asmo as getting to experience these little things as often as the more prominent things that come with his sin. So when you go out of your way to make sure he does get to experience these little things he falls hard and fast.

Beelzebub

He physically bulks up when he transforms. If you thought he was shredded normally wait till you see him in demon form.

His horns are extremely sensitive, almost like little antennas. Turns into the biggest puppy when you rubs his horns. Just all smiles and happiness from him.

Sometimes he will even rub your cheeks together so his horns brush against your hair.

He is a bit hesitant when it comes to his wings being touched just because of their nature. It's not that he doesn't trust you it’s just when he gets excited he unconsciously buzzes his wings.

If he were to catch his wing on your hand and rip it he would feel bad for making you think you hurt him. In reality it does not hurt him all that much, akin to like a paper cut or bad scratch.

Beel is really just a big push over for you, scratch him behind the horns and he will just become the biggest lap dog.

Belphegor

His horns and tail are not sensitive but that doesn't mean he doesn't want you to pet him.

After he falls asleep to you petting his horns one afternoon he now demands that you do this at least once a week. If you don't he will bother you until you cave to his wishes.

Also loves to have the fluff of his tail brushed / petted, although he would never admit it outright. His brothers already think he is spoiled so how would they react to knowing he has you pampering him each week? Braiding his tail hair and brushing out the tangles while he snoozes.

On the rare occasions he can’t sleep or when he is awakened from a nightmare he will seek you out and ask you to pet him so he can get to sleep. There are many mornings you will wake up and just find Belphie in bed next to you curled around his pillow with his face buried in your shoulder.

He promises to pay you back later though. Totally...

The cow spots on his neck are extremely ticklish, to the point he borderline passes out from wheezing so hard when Beel tickles him there.

Bonus:

Diavolo

He is much, much larger in his demon form than he is when he appears as human. He is normally tall but like this he is borderline massive.

He tends to keep his wings folded into his sides due to their large span. Though is more than happy to show them off to you when prompted.

They are thick and velvety to the touch, the metallic jewelry that covers the tops of them a cold contrast to the warm skin.

He adores any kind of attention from you, more than content to sit and chatter about whatever comes to his mind as you sit beside him or stop him petting his wings.

He bent down once so you could see his horns and as a joke lifted you off the ground while you were holding onto them. He laughed so hard you thought he was going to drop you on your ass.

His horns are not sensitive in the slightest, hence why he has no problems with decorating them with tight metal pieces akin to a piercing on a person.

Diavolo is a super loving guy normally and this holds true to when he is in his demon form. So whenever he gives you a hug you end up smothered in his pecs. Not that your complaining.

Barbatos

Barbatos would never say it aloud but he very much enjoys when you spend time just running your fingers ever so softly over his horns. Their unique shape and varied textures can leave you entertained for what feels like hours but in reality you love the soft expressions you can pull out of the normally stoic butler.

Loves having soft kisses pressed to the joints of his horns.

His tail is his one weak spot as once one learns what certain movements mean. You can always tell how he is feeling.

The unbridled joy you feel well in your heart when his tail begins to curl up upon seeing you letting you know he is feeling the same way has you biting your lip to hold yourself back from running into his arms.

#obey me shall we date #obey me #obey me headcanons #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me x mc #obey me demon brothers

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rocorambles · 4 years ago

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Home Schooling

Pairing: Stepdaddy!Meian x Reader

Genre/Warnings: Yandere, Pseudo-Cest, NSFW, Invasion of Privacy, Overbearing and Controlling Behavior, Manipulation, Gaslighting, Non-Con/Rape, Degradation, Overstimulation, Humiliation

Summary: Why would Meian let you go to college in Tokyo when he can teach you everything you need to know right here in Osaka?

A/N: Happy birthday @iwaasfairy ! Of course I need to dedicate my first ever Meian fic to you on this very special day~ I hope this fic manifests a real life DILF Meian for you!!!

Meian has always been protective, even before your mother’s untimely demise. You remember how uncomfortable you had been about this handsome man waltzing into your family home one day, acting like a father figure almost since day one. Only your love for your mother and your desire for her to find happiness again kept your mouth shut, although when she wasn’t in view, you not so subtly found ways to keep your contact with the older man as minimal as possible.

There’s nothing necessarily “wrong” with Meian. In all honesty, if he weren’t so overwhelmingly involved with your life, you’d even argue that he’s a great guy. You can tell he truly cares for your mom, maybe even loves her— although you gag at the cheeky winks and flirtatious touches they generously dote on each other in front of you. And you’re happy for her! You really are. It’s been a long time since you’ve been forced to rely only on yourselves, only on each other. You’ve seen how hard she’s tried, keeping a strong front whenever you’re around, working twice as hard as anyone else to try and fill the aching hole in both your hearts from the loss of your father. If anyone deserves happiness, it’s her.

But there’s something unnerving, even aggravating, about the way Meian interferes with every aspect of your life. You can’t help a strange foreboding feeling twisting inside of you as a heavy gaze trails after you wherever you go, as he begins to rope you into every conversation he has with your mother, almost demanding and insistent about not letting you withdraw to your room despite your well-meaning wishes to give them their privacy.

You try to be on your best behavior, not wanting to be the reason your mom’s new relationship is ruined, especially when you can see just how much she likes him. But every time he opens his mouth and questions everything you do, everything you wear, and everything you say, you can feel your temper rise, wondering where his audacity to act as a father figure comes from.

It’s easy enough to retreat to your room, closing your door and sighing in relief as you escape those sharp eyes. You find comfort in the fact that you have at least one safe place he can’t breach, finding false security in the hope that he’d never invade an adult woman’s bedroom. Except he does, and your heart drops when you notice the miniscule adjustments in your room — your underwear drawer slightly ajar with some pieces missing, your bedsheets slightly rumpled in a way you know you hadn’t left them this morning. Things you know you could never bring up to your mother without sounding like a madwoman. So without irrefutable proof, you keep quiet, knowing that at least there’s not much more time left before you can truly run away from all of this.

Being an adult comes with many responsibilities and adventures, and together, your mother and you pore over myriads of college pamphlets, debating which locations make the most sense, planning how you’re going to make the finances work, and thinking about which colleges have the courses best suited for you. It’s a fun and stressful rollercoaster, but you beam when your mother proudly ruffles your hair, when you both agree on you leaving Osaka behind and adventuring out, creating new memories and beginnings in a different city.

(“Plus, I’ll be able to visit you and play tourist”, your mom excitedly says, and you giggle, letting her affectionately hold you as you stare at the universities you’ve narrowed your choices down to.)

The future seems bright and exciting as you studiously sit down and scan over textbooks and practice exams, dutifully attending your tutoring sessions, cramming for the college entrance exam. It’s all going to plan, except Meian has different opinions. And this time, you can’t hold back the scowl when he yet again goes on and on about how he doesn’t understand why you can’t just stay in Osaka for college.

It’s not a new argument by any means. Just the same few questions being twisted and worded differently and tossed back in your face on a daily basis.

“Don’t you think your mom will be lonely if you move away and only come back for the holidays?”

“Isn’t that what you’re here for? To keep her company?”

“Don’t you feel bad about spending your mom’s carefully saved money on room and board when you could just continue living with us instead and just pay tuition?”

You silently thank your mom when she steps in, firmly telling Meian that she doesn’t mind, that this is exactly why she’s saved up.

But the arguments keep on coming, and you can feel the tension growing in your household, your own stomach churning with guilt and worry, wondering if you’ll end being the cause of their breakup after all as you constantly hear their raised voices going back and forth about you leaving or staying in Osaka.

So despite your discomfort and wariness towards Meian, you can’t help the relieved grin that stretches across your face when your mom comes squealing to you, flinging her arms around your body and shoving her gorgeous engagement ring in your face. You even muster up a slightly tight smile, that only feels a little forced, as you look to the tall man who leans in the doorway, muttering congratulations before directing your attention back to your mom, fondly smiling as she continues raving about her new piece of jewelry, ignoring the way Meian continues to loiter around the both of you.

Your mom is the most beautiful bride as she walks down the aisle and you stare in awe at how she glows, hoping one day you’ll look even remotely as mesmerizing as she does. And while you look on, star-eyed and in wonder, at the woman who had raised you, you miss the way dark eyes intently gaze at you, eyes that should be on the woman he’s about to publicly vow to be with his entire life.

Maybe if you had been more aware, more cautious, you wouldn’t have so eagerly waved both of them off on their honeymoon, wouldn’t have been so excited to shove your mom towards the airport, giving her one last hug and kiss before sillily demanding that she enjoy herself and have the best time of her life.

Maybe then your heart wouldn’t be shattered into a thousand tiny pieces as you collapse in Meian’s strong arms, sobbing uncontrollably and shaking your head in denial when he returns by himself and breaks the news of your mother’s passing.

You delay going to college in Tokyo for a year, allowing yourself time and space to grieve. Or so you had planned, but it seems that Meian has no intention of letting you have your privacy. You share the house with him after your mother’s funeral, unable to argue against him completely moving in when he now owns the property.

He’s still up to his usual overbearing ways, although his tone is softer as he treats you like a wounded animal, carefully handling you as he rouses you from your sleep in the mornings, startling you the first few times he sits on the edge of your bed and wakes you up by tenderly stroking your cheek, preparing all your meals for you and scolding you when he thinks you haven’t eaten enough. It’s almost frightening how easily you fall into his rhythm, not even flinching after a while when his large hand finds itself on your face, your shoulder, your back, your hand, your thigh. Tiny, seemingly platonic touches border the line of what’s appropriate for a guardian and their ward. Although, deep down, you know the two of you are diving in dangerous territory when you feel his knuckle brush against the swell of your ass briefly, his calloused fingertips quickly skimming your breasts, his palm squeezing just a tad too high up your thigh.

But you seek any remaining softness your mother had instilled in your heart for a man who’s lost his wife of just a few days, letting your new guardian (you don’t dare call him father) do as he pleases, not wanting to deal with any more conflict when your heart is still mending. And maybe, just maybe, you find some solace in his touches, in the love he forces upon you, seeking even just a hint of the parental affection your mother had bestowed upon you.

Time heals all wounds, or so they say. You can’t agree that it resolves everything, but you can admit that you’re feeling much better now that a year is almost up, ready to move on, live your life, and make your mother proud. You start re-looking into Tokyo housing, comparing the expenses of living off-campus versus living in the dorms, typing and reworking budgets over and over again in your Excel sheet until your eyes burn and you let out a huge yawn.

Coffee now. Budgets later.

You trudge to the kitchen, brewing a fresh pot of dark caffeinated liquid, letting out a pleased sound when the aroma fills the air, happily making your way back to your room to revisit some of your calculations, mug in hand. But you freeze when you see Meian sitting at your desk, clicking through the different tabs of apartment and dorm options you had been looking at, scrutinizing your planned expenses.

There’s no reason for the guilt that claws at your chest when you see the way his jaw clenches as he turns to look at you, hurt in his eyes as he silently demands an explanation for what he’s looking at. But it’s guilt that has you slamming down the mug on your desk and planting your firsts on your hips in a confrontational stance, that has defensive angry words spewing from your lips as you yell at him for invading your privacy, that has you storming towards him and trying to shove his much larger and stronger frame away from your computer.

But it’s futile and you gasp when you’re pulled into his lap, his hands easily pinning you to him and holding you still as he holds you in a mockery of an embrace, your back against his toned chest, his mouth right against your ear.

“You were just going to leave for Tokyo without telling me?”

You want to stay angry, want to continue twisting and fighting against his grip. But the vulnerability you hear in his words has you staying still, has you anxiously biting your lower lip as you try and find the right words to soothe the man clutching you.

“I- I didn’t think I needed to tell you anything. This was always the plan. You knew I only put off attending college for a year to take some time for myself. But I’ll come back and visit during the holidays-”

Your words are cut off by a pained gasp as thick arms tighten their hold on you, but the growled threat in your ear has your anger bubbling over, masking any other feeling.

“You’re not leaving.”

The matter of fact tone, the final decisiveness of the words, the way Meian leaves no room for discourse or arguments, has you lashing out at him and before you can second guess yourself, the position you’re in, or the difference in power between the two of you. In a matter of seconds, you’re snarling right back at him.

“You’re not my father! You can’t tell me what I can or can’t do.”

Righteous pride swells in your chest and you spare him a sharp, wicked grin, haughtily tilting your head up condescendingly, basking in the viciousness of your words. But what you aren’t expecting is the hearty laugh he responds with, something dark and gleeful swirling in his eyes as a cruel smile cuts across his face.

“You’re right. I’m not your father, not even your guardian. So this is fine, right?”

You scream as the arms still wrapped around you haul you up, your limbs thrashing and flailing as you try to force your way free from his iron grip to no avail. Fear and anger make you hysteric as you register the fact that you’re quickly approaching the room that once belonged to your mother, the room Meian now resides in. Disbelief and nausea overtake you when you’re assaulted by the familiar four walls as you’re haphazardly tossed onto the bed, sobbing as memories of your mother surround you and invade your thoughts while calloused hands easily tear your clothes off your body.

But you’re immediately silenced, sobs turning into choked whimpers as a large hand grabs the bottom half of your face, fingers digging into your cheeks, a palm suctioning your mouth shut.

“Where are all those manners your mother taught you? What would she think if she heard you throwing a temper tantrum like a child?”

The callousness of his words hits you like a ton of bricks. Meian smirks at the new round of fat, watery drops that stream down your face, mockingly cooing down at you, calling you a good girl, praising your newfound silence as his hand slowly drags down until it's wrapped around your neck, where he lightly squeezes, reveling in the adorable whimper you release.

But as pathetically amusing as you are, sniveling and choking under him, there’s more that he’s keen on seeing. You feel like a slab of meat under his observant gaze. Prized meat, but meat all the same as he runs his hands across your figure like a butcher testing the firmness of his livestock, pinching and prodding almost methodically, coldly. Only the amusement and hunger in his eyes are indicative of how much this is truly affecting him. Yet it’s tolerable, barely, if you just stare up at the ceiling, pretending you’re at an incredibly invasive medical exam.

He’d be offended by how hard you’re trying to ignore him if it weren’t for the telltale signs of your arousal that you desperately try to deny. He grins at how your nipples harden from just a few teasing circles, how your clit stands to attention, your pretty folds already beginning to glisten as he pets your velvety walls. You’re even more beautiful than he had imagined after watching you prance around the home in your skimpy loungewear. And suddenly, his pants are far too tight, cock straining uncomfortably against the fabric he’s quick to rip off. It’s music to his ears when you shakily say his name over and over again, as you try and resist the way he forces himself between your legs, hands spreading your thighs apart, toned body pinning you down, something hard nudging at your tight entrance.

“Meian, please. Please! Please, Meian.”

He ignores your tears, ignores the other words of resistance that slip past your mouth, head dipping down to your mouth and neck, kissing and marking every part of you he can reach, murmuring for you to call him by his first name. And when he loses patience with your whining, you finally acquiesce as he forcefully shoves himself balls deep inside you, a sneer ruining his handsome face as he lightly slaps your face in approval when you wail his first name, “Shugo” howled in an agonizing exclamation as you try to somehow dislodge him from ripping you in two.

“Look at that, the little slut can behave when she wants to. I bet your mother would be so proud.”

You hate how he drags your mom’s name in the ground as he defiles you, violates you in the bed they had once shared. You hate how his large frame feels crushing you, overpowering you, making you feel so incredibly helpless and weak. But mostly, you hate the slick lewd sounds your pussy makes as he pounds hard and fast into you, the undeniable proof that your body doesn’t hate this nearly as much as it should. Hot angry disgusted tears roll down your face as you glare up at him, desperately fighting back the rising moans threatening to humiliate you even more.

Your little defiant attitude is punished by Meian thrusting even harder into you, practically bending you in half as he pushes down on the back of your thighs, forcing you into a mating press. And he laughs at your wrecked face, hungrily taking in the way your eyes roll back in your head, the way your jaw drops wide open, your tongue and rivulets of drool trickling down your face, wanton moans loudly filling the room.

“For all your whining and complaining, you sure do look like you’re enjoying this, sweetheart.”

You wish you could deny his words, retort back with a scathing remark, do anything really. But when he reaches a hand between the two of you and rubs rapid circles against your erect clit, hips still pistoning against yours, cock stuffing you full, your mind blanks and an animal-like howl tears through the room as your body convulses, pussy walls clamping down and quivering as you cream all over the shaft still dragging against your sensitive walls, only heightening your peak.

Meian briefly wonders if this is what heaven feels like (or as close to heaven as someone like him is going to get) as he groans at the way your velvety walls milk his cock, gritting his teeth to not be dragged over the edge with you. He’s not delusional to think that any of this is right, the photo of his ex-wife, your mother silently watching you from the nightstand only emphasizing just how wrong this all is, but he can’t bring himself to care. Not when you’re a fucked out mess underneath him, so obediently and submissively slurring his name over and over again, drowning in pleasure and bliss.

There’s nothing more he wants than to just lose himself in the feeling of your tight walls, to fill you, mark you, claim you with his seed, but he’s not quite ready for a full house just yet. He has a few more years alone with you all planned out in his head before he breeds your pretty little womb. So just as his control teeters on the edge, he pulls out of you, casually sitting back and spreading his legs, slowly stroking his cock as he orders you to come and suck him off.

He’s almost proud of the little fight you still have left in you, lips quirking upwards at the way you try to ignore him, trying to look anywhere but at him. But his balls are almost painfully tight, his cock aching for release.

“Suck me off like a good girl or I’m going to cum inside of you over and over again until you’re knocked up. Bet your mother would have loved that for you. Her precious college-bound girl turned into a pregnant uneducated whore.”

It’s an empty threat, but you don’t ever need to know that, not when it has you obeying so well as he threads his fingers through your hair, groaning as your hot wet mouth sinks down on his cock still covered in your essence. All it takes is a few harsh shoves of your face, his hand pulling you up and down like a warm fleshlight, and as he finally reaches his end, he completely pulls you off, arching your neck back in a way that leaves your mouth open as he spurts thick white stripes all over your face and in your orifice.

You make to wipe your face, grateful at least that this is all over, but before you can move even an inch, you yelp as you’re shoved back down on your back, hands instinctively trying to push at broad shoulders as your legs are once again forced open. You’re a quick learner though, and with one dark warning look from the man whose face is now hovering over your spent hole, you instantly bring your hands down to your sides, clawing and fisting the ruined bed sheets instead as Meian ravenously licks and laps at your dripping cunt. The disgusting wet sounds echo in your ears as pleasure and shame swirl inside of you, a crescendo ascending too quickly, too high.

But your thrashing and blissed out pleas to stop, to let you rest, only serve to whet Meian’s appetite even more. Time becomes surreal and meaningless as you drown and float in a mixture of pain and pleasure, brought to climax over and over again until you feel boneless, your pussy and body ceaselessly twitching, mind broken beyond repair as you babble incoherently, unsure of anything except the lips and tongue at work between your thighs.

You cum one last time, body barely moving aside from a slight shudder, too worn out, too dazed to even comprehend the fact that Meian unravels himself from you, wiping his face of your arousal and taking a few swigs of water before making his way towards your desk and dialing the admissions office number he finds. And as the phone rings and he leans back in your chair, he adoringly gazes at the sinful display you make, looking like the epitome of debauchery as your body splays out, a stupid blissed out expression on your face, reeking of sex and sweat.

He strokes his cock as it rises back to life, raring to go again as he licks his lips, tasting your sweet juices on his tongue, never stopping even when a voice finally comes through the line. He only pauses slightly to bite back a laugh when something shatters in your pretty eyes, a sliver of realization piercing through your dazed look as you hone in on his conversation.

But you do nothing to stop him, unable to do anything but listlessly stare and watch as he cancels your enrollment in front of you, hangs up the phone, and casually makes his way back towards you as if he hadn’t ruined years of hard work and decimated your future plans in mere minutes.

“There’s no need to go all the way to Tokyo for education, sweetheart. Not when I can teach you everything you need to know right here. Now open up your mouth so we can get your first lesson started.”

#haikyuu smut #meian x reader #meian smut #yandere haikyuu #haikyuu fic #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #yandere meian #tw: noncon #tw incest #tw: yandere #tw: rape #haikyuu x reader

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imagine-loki · 3 years ago

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TITLE: Good while it lasted CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 1 AUTHOR: Valarieravenhearst2 ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine seeing Loki for the first time after a very messy break up. RATING: R NOTES/WARNINGS: NSFW course language

Violet POV

There is an unsung harmony that seems to flow from the streets; a sense of peace which apparently I’m not privy to. My heart thumps so furiously in my chest; begging for attention that I have been so strategically depriving it from. I remain very rigid in the front seat of my car as I attempt to calm myself by holding my breath; I suppose if anyone were to notice me they would think I was having some kind of stroke. I watch elated faces enter the building before me and I silently chastise myself in frustration to the point I’m almost in tears at the fact that that is meant to be me right now – high on euphoria as I share in celebrations with the rest of the cohort. Yet here I am stuck in my car having a mental breakdown. Loki and I broke up over a year ago … and I keep telling myself that I’m okay with each new day but that’s not what my heart feels. I don’t know what happened exactly … I can’t even pinpoint where things started to turn but it was eight months after the engagement when we … I? Ended it. I can’t even theorise the possibilities of our collapse because he just shut down. He became cold; bitter … and seemed to want to be anywhere else but with me. Every time I tried to get him to tell me what was wrong it just made him clam up even more … so it had to be me, right? So all our blissful, magical years went out the window … and he didn’t seem to care … so I made myself not care as well.

We haven’t had any contact since. Now, he’s meant to be at the same charity ball I’m attending. I suppose he might not even be here. Therefore I feel even more ridiculous for having this breakdown. Though it is always good to be prepared … I did think I was more prepared than this though. I’ve already thought of five escape plans if I walk in and he is with someone else. Oh I think I would pass out. Right after I pull the fire alarm. I hate how much everyone else around me looks so darn happy. I wish my smile could be real like that. Being angry is better than this swirling angst inside of me. So I’ll be angry. I step out of my car suddenly with a heat surging under my skin and putting a purpose in my step. I stride into the foyer with a façade of power and it does indeed turn heads. I share an elevator up to the auditorium with a few friendly faces I recognise from past events and we exchange small chitchat. Thankfully none know me well enough to ask where my other half is. This will be my first charity event since the breakup – I had been sending Katie in my place because I couldn’t muster the courage. The last twenty minutes has been pleasant with two glasses of champagne and idle chitchat with people I’m familiar with. To add to my blissful bubble I haven’t seen one Avenger either but all good things must end as the worst one spots me like a meerkat on a rock. I try to keep my expression flat and unwavering as my eyes have the strongest urge to widen like saucers in shock. I am strong. I am okay. Thor approaches with such a purpose in his stride that he causes people to stop and stare … more than they usually do. “Violet!” He greets with such surprised enthusiasm but quickly slows his embrace when he takes notice of my unwavering expression. He was intending to hug me wholeheartedly but he visibly changes to a softer approach – placing one bulging arm around me and leaning in gently to chastely kiss me on the cheek. “Hello Thor.” I manage to smile; though it be small and humble. I know my eyes probably look as sad as they feel. “It’s so good to see you.” His voice is sincere and as sad as mine. “You look well.” He observes and I nod in acknowledgement. “You too.” I sip my champagne to give me strength. “How’s Jane?” “She’s excellent.” He smiles warmly, “she’s giving a speech tonight.” There’s pride in his voice as he scans the crowd in search of her. “Can’t wait to hear it.” I had known that she was going to be speaking that’s the whole reason I knew at least one of them would be here. I would stay for the speech for the sake of politeness and then sneak out before anyone notices me. Thor looks at me whilst biting his lip in contemplation and I try to come up with an excuse to walk away before this interaction can continue. “Violet,” too late, “what happened?” He asks quietly whilst shrugging with an air of confusion. “I don’t understand,” he mutters to himself. That makes two of us buddy. “I wish I knew.” I keep my voice flat, “if you figure it out, feel free to let me know.” I purse my lips together as I pretend to notice someone over his shoulder, “excuse me.” I ease myself away before he can respond and head for a group of people that just entered; amongst them, my neighbour who owns the Boutique Emporium next to my restaurant. Lucky she smiles warmly in greeting and makes the perfect strategy to escape Thor. I manage to share a laugh or two before the speeches start, would you look at me go. Then I settle myself at a perfectly nice table that is equally close to the exit and the bar. A man offers me a high chair but I insist that I’d rather stand around the high table. There’s rumble of chatter that lights up the room once more in-between speeches and I think Jane’s mustn’t be too far away now. Then I see the distinct flick of raven. My heart fought so hard not to look but my eyes instantly followed it. Elegance encompassed in a suit as dark as his hair; authority oozing off him in all his glory whilst menacing intimidation lingers just under the surface. My heart flutters

so hard that when it skips momentarily the concern of a heart attack does cross my mind. Blessedly, he’s all the way across the room near the podium, standing around a table with a bunch of people that I assume would be of the shield category. I notice Thor joining them as Jane leaves them but my eyes don’t waver from Loki though I wish they would. He laughs lightly at something the little woman who has her back to me says, and I swear I can almost hear it. Burst into flames! Frankly I don’t care which. You have to let it go. Thor begins speaking and in fear he’s trying to point me out I instantly start a conversation across my table to make myself look busy. I try to invest myself heavily in what the lady across from me is saying and it causes my eyes to lock onto hers but it isn’t long until I see movement in my far peripheral. My eyes gently wander whilst I finish my sentence and I immediately meet such a fierce emerald hue even from here. My expression is unwavering whilst his appears to be a swirling connotation of thoughts – which is rare for him. Multiple people cross our path so it allows me to break the connection first back to the lady in front of me but I still feel his eyes burning fiercely into my side and then Jane starts speaking. The room goes silent once more and everyone’s eyes go to her, even Loki’s. As she speaks, I wish I could say that I’m listening but I’m focusing on the best time to make my leave. I hold my clutch firmly in my hand and take a subtle step back from the table as she concludes her speech. As she begins her words of thanks I turn on my heel and ease my way out, grateful for the abundance of people behind me which shield me from anyone close to the front. I’m out in the hallway before I hear an around of applause. Once I’m in the elevator I can’t hit that close door button enough. My chest relaxes suddenly and I almost lose my balance, not realising how tense I had become. On the ground floor, I stride across the room, being the only one to admit a noise with the sharp clacking of my heels. The doorman is quick to get the door for me and I don’t slow my pace to thank him. I have the urge to run to my car but I fight it with all my might; and equally as hard to stop the sudden urge to cry as tears sting my eyes. Nay-nay I have come this far! I collapse into my car and take zero time to think or reflect before I start the ignition. People see there ex’s all the damn time and don’t bat an eye. Hell! How many ex’s do I have, and have no trouble worrying about them? As I pull into traffic I’m still the only one who has left the building. I will not cry. I look way to pretty to cry. I’m not wasting anymore tears on someone who’s not crying over me. My anxiety can go to hell.

#loki #angst #submitted one shot #Valarieravenhearst2 #chapter 1 #good while it lasted

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cafedanslanuit · 4 years ago

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sometimes ending a relationship is the only way to help each other. at least that’s what you tell yourself on your way back home to your fiancé.

♡ — pairing: reiner braun x reader / zeke jaeger x reader (mentioned but not described)

♡ — tags/warnings: female reader, suggestive but not explicit, cheating, angst, canon compliant, toxic relationships (not romanticized)

♡ — a/n: heavily inspired by miley cyrus’ ‘angels like you’, hence the title.

♡ — length: 2.2k

♡ — masterlist

Liberio at night was never a pretty sight.

As you walked home, you noticed all the small details you never took the time to see. The puddles of sewer water on the streets, the stench of urine in the corners close to bars and the sound of rats running around, too afraid to come in the light. Your thighs hurt every step you gave and you couldn’t ignore the burning sensation between your legs. Memories of grunts and your nails digging on a man’s back flooded your mind, making you shake your head in a vague attempt to get rid of them.

You knew well you couldn’t ever get rid of them.

You thought of everything that led you to Zeke’s office late that night. Of course, it was about delivering some documents that could have been delivered the next morning and staying for a cigarette even if you had quit smoking years ago. And before you knew it, Chief Jaeger was fucking you on his desk, your legs around his waist, his forehead pressing to your shoulder and his hands grabbing your ass as he roughly pounded against you.

You wished there was a part of yourself that truly believed you didn’t know this was coming, that you hadn’t let your skirt rile up when you crossed your legs neither smiled bashfully at Zeke’s compliments about how beautiful you looked that night. You wished there was a part of you that was really attracted to him, a part of you that really wanted him to fuck you seneseless and leave you a sweating mess over his desk as he pulled up his pants.

But you knew better than that.

You opened the door to your small house, not bothering in turning on the lights. Maybe this was for the best, you told yourself. It was the best decision you could make. Well, it had to be, or else you had broken a man without a purpose.

On your way to your bedroom, you noticed a new framed photo on the wall, making you stop in your tracks. You remembered taking it a little more than a week ago and you figured it must have been delivered while you were gone. Reiner, his mom and you were smiling at the camera and if you hadn’t known both Brauns as much as you did, you could have sworn their smile was genuine.

Your eyes fixated on Reiner’s soft expression, one of his hands on your shoulder and the other one over his mom’s. He had barely talked to you since returning from his long mission in Paradis, refusing to answer any of your questions regarding how he was feeling or what had happened during the years he was gone. Reiner had never been one to share too much. You still remembered how long it took him to tell you the truth about his absent father on an Autumn afternoon, his face pressed on your thighs, his shoulders shaking violently as he told you the truth that had been tormenting him for years. You were twelve, just one year older than him, yet you listened and ran your fingers through his blond locks, trying to comfort him the best way you knew. Four years passed by and every night you would pray for his safety and that he would return to you. You knew he was a warrior and that he was good at what he did but you couldn’t fight the feeling that you just wanted him to rest.

The first time you saw Reiner after his mission in Paradis, you couldn’t stop yourself from crying. No matter how tightly Reiner held you, assuring you he was in fact there and that it wasn’t another one of your dreams. He was hurried by his mother to leave you and go back to his home, which he did, not before asking you to meet him at your spot at midnight.

Reiner was your first kiss. And how happy you were that you had waited for him.

As short-lived as your romance was before he had to leave for war again, you couldn’t help but notice the weight over his shoulder had only increased. Only this time, he wouldn’t talk about what he saw or experienced at the island. You tried to be understanding, even if it pained you to see his disassociated eyes look at the horizon whenever he was too much in his head.

Before Reiner went to war, he promised he would marry you when he got back. You had smiled brightly between tears and told him you would wait for him, no matter how long he took. Both of you kept on your promises, with him buying a small house inside of Liberio just for the two of you and you organizing a small but lovely wedding that would happen in a few months.

That was supposed to happen in a few months.

Now you wondered where it was that you lost him. Had a part of him died in Paradis? Had it been the war that had finally sent him over the edge. You weren’t sure. All you knew was that the Reiner sleeping on your bed wasn’t the boy who had cried on your lap anymore.

Not having enough with dancing around your questions about his feelings, he also expected you to act like he wasn’t having nightmares every night. That you didn’t see him sitting up with a panicked expression, covered in sweat. Whenever you tried to reach for him, he would elude your touch, not even caring to acknowledge your questions about what he had dreamt about or how you could help.

He hadn’t shared a word with you after coming back home from your engagement celebration. Even if the whole afternoon he had his arm around your waist and would press kisses on your forehead and temple at any moment, it all went away when he stepped inside your new home. You still remembered the knot in your throat from when he refused your offer to have some tea on your balcony, just the two of you. Reiner turned to leave so quickly he didn’t notice the tears streaming down your cheeks.

You didn’t know what happened on that island and you probably would never know but you were sure the man who you had been sharing a bed with wasn’t Reiner anymore.

Your eyes looked at Mrs. Braun in the photo, a sour taste filling your mouth. Even if her smile was gentle, you couldn’t easily forget that only a few minutes before the photo, she had told Reiner you were just an orphan trying to profit from his warrior status and that he should break the engagement, that a promise he made when he was sixteen meant nothing. Reiner’s eyes met yours for a brief second and just when you thought he was going to say something to defend you, he lowered his head, continuing to listen to his mother’s yells while she pretended you were not in the same room.

You took the photo off the wall and placed it face down on the table.

Resuming your steps, you stepped into your bedroom. Reiner was sound asleep on your bed, the sheet not big enough to cover his brod, bare shoulders. For a minute, you just watched him sleep, taking in everything you had loved for years about him. From the way his brow creased to the small mole next to his ear, to the way his hair looked when it was messy. You hated the way his image made you smile even as you were about to lose him for good.

Taking a deep breath, you turned the lights on. Reiner’s light sleep was evident when he started blinking a few seconds later, a confused look on his face until his eyes met yours.

"I fucked Zeke tonight."

A truth. You thought it was always easier when you start with one. Reiner stayed still for a moment, his still confused mind trying to process your words. You watched him in silence, waiting for his response. He was never violent so you weren’t afraid but you knew that night everything was going to change.

Reiner passed one of his hands across his hair, letting out a long sigh.

"Okay."

You furrowed your eyebrows. You opened your mouth and then closed it, not believing you had heard him correctly.

"Okay?"

"I just want to sleep," he exhaled, laying his head on the pillow once again and closing his eyes. You took some steps further until you were standing next to him.

"Reiner, I fucked Zeke Jaeger in his office an hour ago."

"Yeah, you just told me," Reiner muttered, his eyes still closed.

That’s when it hit you. You took the sheets covering his body and pulled them away hastily, forcing him to open his eyes.

"Do you really not fucking care!?" you spat, your voice breaking at the end.

For a few seconds, Reiner remained quiet, not an inch of his body moving. You were breathing heavily, eyes filled with tears that threatened to fall. It was all coming down to this and a part of you still couldn’t believe this is how you were going to say goodbye. Was he truly the man you had loved for the last ten years? Did you really mean so little in his mind? You watched him sit up on the bed, his honey eyes finally facing yours.

"Of course I care that my fiancée slept with the Chief. Of course, I care, fuck— I hate it. I fucking hate it and I wish I could stop imagining it happening inside my head,” Reiner said, gesturing towards his temple, his voice hoarse and pained. “Because it is. Believe me when I say I keep replaying those thoughts in my head, over and over and over,” he hissed, his lips forming a thin line. “But why— why would I feel entitled to say anything when I'm the one that's been fucking things up with you?" he asked, his palm hitting his chest forcefully.

The tears you promised not to shed were already falling from your eyes, your face twisting in a scowl.

“We're not good for each other. We haven’t been for a while, Reiner. So please, please, lets just— we need to let each other go,” you pleaded.

“It’s not like that, we’re not— fuck,” Reiner sighed, covering his face with his hands. “I’m sorry. I am, I just— I can’t,” he choked.

“It’s not your fault,” you assured him in a softer voice. Tentatively, you put your hand over his shoulder, rubbing it gently. You saw his body melt under your touch, his left hand immediately reaching for yours in search for comfort. “I’m not what you need right now, Reiner. We’re only hurting each other by playing this long game of pretend. And… I’m tired. I’m so tired,” you cried.

His hand squeezed yours in a vain attempt to calm you down. It only increased the sobs, making you remember all the times he had taken your hand underneath the table whenever he noticed you were anxious in a social gathering or kissed each one of your knuckles, making you laugh even when you had just been crying.

“Guess your mom was right when she told you I wasn’t good enough for you,” you chuckled sadly.

“Don’t say that,” he shook his head, taking your hand to his mouth and pressing a kiss on the back of your hand. Reluctantly, you pulled your hand away from his, crossing your arms in front of your chest.

“But it’s true. I— I fucked up. I fucked up big time, Reiner. And now… now we’re done,” you breathed out, looking at your shoes. “We can’t just keep pretending everything is fine when—"

"Let's go to sleep.”

You choked on a sob, your eyes snapping back to his. “Reiner,” you whispered.

"I promise we'll talk in the morning. Just come here" he said, shifting on the bed to make space for you. You looked at the sheets, your body not moving a fraction. “Please,” he almost begged, his voice making your heart clench in pain.

You held on his powerful gaze, lips parted in dismay. Both of you stayed in silence for longer than you could register and even if he wasn’t talking, you could recognize the utter necessity of having you close in his eyes, even if he was aware of the lie you had fabricated together. You finally yielded and you looked away, nodding idly as you wiped the tears off your face. Your body and mind had surrendered one more time, just like you told yourself you wouldn’t.

"Let me take a shower first,” you muttered, taking off your coat.

"No," Reiner quipped. You turned to him, confused, and now he was the one to avoid your gaze. "I don't care, just... let's go to sleep.”

Kicking your shoes off, you got into bed with him, his arms around your body feeling so foreign you felt yourself on the verge of breaking down once again. Reiner buried his face on your neck, pretending he didn’t recognize the strong male perfume lingering on your skin, instead massaging the plush of your hips with his thumb softly.

"I love you," he whispered. Your eyes filled with tears once more.

"I love you too," you mumbled back.

You knew you both meant it.

Maybe that's what hurt the most.

#snk x reader #aot x reader #reiner braun x reader #reiner x reader #reiner braun #reiner braun angst #reiner angst #snk angst #aot angst #reiner x you #reiner x y/n #attack on titan reiner #shingeki no kyojin reiner

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millers-planet · 4 years ago

Text

The Vice and the Virtue - Part One

Pairing: Helmut Zemo x GN!Reader (later established as F following more parts)

A/N: i appreciate you guys so much for how quickly you blew up the sneak peak i did. it really motivated me to writing this

POV: Reader

Warnings: Fluff. Use of "Y/N". Angst?

Words: 2.3k

Description: How does one live a life of virtue when past vices begin arising after a successful jailbreak with untied ends?

It was terrifying as I watched my home be stripped of everything it knew, it was as if with every furniture upturned or removed, a piece of me was taken with it. It was the couch, the tables, the side-tables, the food from the fridge, everything. By this point, it wasn't our home anymore, it was the home. Everything was out of my control, I had no say in what the strangers robbed me of for their 'investigation'.

I was questioned for days about what he did, about why he did it, and if I was an accomplice. Fingers were pointed at me without any real reason behind them. I didn't even know what they were talking about, he simply told me it was a business trip or some family thing-- I don't remember but I wish I did. If I had, I might've been able to save myself the hassle of convincing everyone else that.

Zemo always wanted and always was isolated and by himself. While he had friends, or contacts as he called it, he preferred to be lonesome. By lonesome, that means either in a crowded place with no one with him, or at the house with me. It was something odd to get used to, but I never wanted to trade a day with him for a day with some people who call me their friend, only to turn around and talk bad on me.

Now, I'd trade all my days for just one more with him.

With the sun having just set and the aroma of freshly brewed tea filling the air, it became a good day. Until I saw on the news of a jailbreak that just occurred, several prisoners being injured and one-- a highly dangerous prisoner (as the news described it)--escaping. I saw that it was in Germany and I believed for just a second that it could've been him.

I was fortunate enough just to keep the home, after a few months of it being held hostage from me. With every night I slept here, the more desolate I began to feel, for I can't dare try and show my face to the world. I'm too afraid people will talk and say that I'm "the one who dated the man who destroyed the Avengers". Maybe I'm just being paranoid, but something doesn't feel right if I go out without him or if I just go out in general. It feels as if I've been under house arrest or exiled from the public for years.

It was another simple night, a warm one just cool enough to keep the windows open. I love hearing the sounds of the crickets outside the large bedroom windows accompanied by the occasional whispering the leaves made when wind made them rustle. The moonlight gazed perfectly onto the door, illuminating a path outward if I had to get up at some point; which I usually did because sleeping soundly was no longer an option. Though, I was almost asleep until the large hum of the garage being opened startled me.

Quickly, I turned on the bedroom lights and walked into the large, open main room that had stairs leading to the garage. I flicked on the lights and saw the shadow of a figure grow as it climbed to the top, the breath staying stagnant in my lungs. Should I grab a weapon? Should I find an escape route? All of these life-determining questions crossed my mind until I could comprehend who really was climbing the steps.

His eyes scanned the room, as if he was a child lost in the store looking for their parent, until his eyes finally met mine. All of his concerned features dropped into something softer, something kinder, something I never saw from him before. “Wha- Why are you here?” The ends of my mouth rose into the biggest smile I could possible create, without even realizing it.

“Didn’t I tell you I’d be back?” His strides were wide and swift as he made his way to me, cupping my face into his gentle hands and pressed a kiss to my lips. A kiss I have never felt before, it had a different feeling behind it, a different motive…

…He missed me.

I placed my hand over the one that laid carefully on my face, taking in every bit of him. I forgot how small wrinkles came down from the corners of his eyes, or how his cheeks curved in slightly. I forgot how when his features softened and when he gazed into me, my legs felt weak and butterflies filled my stomach. I forgot how much he loved me.

He pressed the smallest kiss to my forehead and looked back down to me. "I have some people for you to meet. We have guests." I didn't know what he meant until two large men came up the same steps. The small bubble of comfort and renewal was broken when Zemo's attention drifted from me and onto them. Despite those few moments being a few measly seconds, it felt longer than the years past.

The two men grew tense and one of them shouted, "Zemo who the hell is this?" Almost instinctively, as the two strangers approached me, he placed his arm in front of me. "So you're telling me not only are you rich, but you had a girl waiting for you the whole time?"

"You could say that, but I never asked her to wait or stay." He looked to me and the corners of his mouth rose ever-so-slightly. "Y/N, this is Sam Wilson and James Barnes, or Bucky." The metal-armed man raised his flesh hand when his name was called, almost like taking attendance.

I passed out cups of tea and coffee for the three men and sat down on the couch next to Zemo, trying to comprehend what the three of them were telling me. "Then after we realized that neither Sam or I really knew how to handle or hunt the super soldier serum, we decided to contact the one guy who does."

I looked at them clueless for a second, "but didn't Zemo frame you for assassinating a king? And cause the Avengers to break up?" Zemo looked at me and nodded, with a look that essentially said 'really? you had to bring that up?'

"Yes, yes the man did." The other man, Sam, was now talking. "After that, Tin Man over here decided to break Zemo out of jail, which I had no part in. Frankly, I still don't see why we need him." Bucky just stared at Sam from the metal remark. They looked like they were good friends but argued like a couple with marital problems.

The three of them went back and forth about what to do next, throwing out different names and places. I pulled my knees up to my chest and placed my drink down on the chestnut side-table next to me, remembering the way policemen ripped open the table and threw it around, the scuffs on the sides to prove it. The tugs they made on the drawers tugged on me as-well, making me lean my head against Zemo's shoulder. After all this time, he still kept his muscles, but to be fair he also had a lot of time on his hands the past few years.

Suddenly, a yawn escaped my mouth and I tried to stifle it. His attention quickly shifted to me and put the conversation at a pause. "If you would like, we can go to bed," the words made my heart simply explode. It was a simple action that I didn't even notice I missed so much, it had been so long that the idea of sleeping with someone else feels so foreign. Although, it's a humbly welcomed foreign experience.

I nodded quickly and stood up, realizing I should probably be a good host and give the two guests a place to sleep. "If you guys want to follow me, I can show you to your rooms." I led them down the hallway, trying to keep my feet of the floor as much as I could because it felt like ice. I don't remember the last time I was down here, I didn't really have a reason to. Opening two doors, I turned to face them, "here are your rooms. Bathroom is first on the left." Bucky smiled and nodded quietly.

Sam, on the other hand, went and said, "so is there a breakfast in bed option or will we have to go out there to a chef?" Bucky rammed his metal elbow into Sam's stomach and glared at him.

"Thank you, Y/N. And please ignore Birdy over here."

As I began to walk away from them I heard a quiet exchange of cursing. Looking back, the two were pushing each other and fighting to get towards the bathroom. Bucky eventually pushed Sam against the opposite wall, then ran into the bathroom, with a subtle click of the lock. Sam locked eyes with me, nodded his head down and shuffled into his room like a dog with his tail between his legs.

"Those two are quite the duo," I murmured softly as I pushed open the bedroom door. I fully expected to see Zemo passed out from his endeavor from earlier, but it was a welcomed surprise when I saw him and the same look of bliss spread on his face as he sat on the end of the bed, having just changed into a simple t-shirt and sweatpants. Those same quick strides closed the gap between us, but this time he was softer and slower, as if he wanted to make up for lost time.

Starting at the bottom of my earlobe, his fingers traced my jaw, his eyes following them and scanning each and every one of my features. The way he stared and touched me reflected how touch-starved he really was all this time, turns out we were in the same boat but different countries. His gentle hand flowed from my ear, along my jaw, and when it reached my chin, he cusped my cheek. I leaned in nearly automatically into the touch, finally making eye contact when he looked at me.

With a small movement, he pressed a loving kiss to my forehead. "I never thought I'd be able to see you again. Or do that. Or do this," his other hand reached my cheek and brought me in for a kiss on my lips that was full of longing. "Or do this," he nudged my thighs and I jumped into his arms, now truly aware of what I was missing these past few years. Zemo set me down in the bed and got in next to me. "Or do this," he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me in gently, holding me as tightly as he could without suffocating me.

Laying on his chest, I took in everything and couldn't imagine how I went so long without him. It felt like night and day. For so long I was living in the dark, completely isolated from the outside world and anything that could possibly hurt me anymore. Once he returned, he turned on the lights, he brought me back into the sunlight. I know he just got home but it feels like everything is back where it's supposed to be, like nothing ever changed. Somehow, with his return, the bed also feels softer.

"Why did you wait?" His sudden question caught me off guard. "I mean, I cannot say how excited I was to see you--but why didn't you move on?" I looked up and saw a confused expression, with his eyebrows furrowed together and lips pressed.

I didn't know how to answer him, how do I express everything I've felt these past years? How do I accurately tell him that after seeing my home destroyed and ransacked, the only thing I could think or do was to picture rebuilding it?

"When you were arrested, men came and took everything. They destroyed the house and didn't leave a single thing unturned. It was months before I could step back into the house and I think almost two years before I could begin the process of restoring it." I could feel his breathing slow down and become deeper, reminding me to pull myself together. "When I could finally put the pieces of the home back together, it didn't feel the same, because you weren't there. I wanted to try and go out but it wasn't right to go into the open world without you.

So, I waited. After watching strangers destroy the things I loved, and the things I had so many memories of, I could only think to fix it all and rebuild it all. But, I couldn't do that without you. I needed you. I need you."

With one movement, he changed our positioning so his face was now over mine, leaning over me. "What did I do to deserve you, meine geliebte," he spoke softly and pressed one final kiss to me and whispered with a smile, "shall we go to sleep now?" I nodded slowly and watched him get up to turn off the lights.

When we were sleeping, or when he was sleeping, all I could think to be was wide awake. Last time, he left suddenly during the day and promised to come home, I didn't know that previous night that he'd be disappearing from me. So, while he was in bed with his arm draped around my waist, holding me close and occasionally moving his arm to pull me closer, I was remembering every single thing.

I savored the way the sheets felt hotter than usual with him being home. I savored the way his breath against the back of my neck made me ticklish. I savored the way he moved his thumb in circles against my skin every few minutes, even when he was asleep. I made sure to remember how his heavy arms made it more difficult to breath. I couldn't bare to forget any of these things, so when he leaves again, I'll remember.

But right now, he's home.

He's back at our home.

part two

get tagged - masterlist

tags: @blondekel77 @mysticdeerpolice @dexthtoyounglings @anthrogothic @darlinloves @hollmarch

#helmut zemo x reader #helmut zemo x you #zemo x you #helmut zemo x y/n #zemo x reader #zemo x y/n #helmut zemo #zemo #zemo smut #zemo fluff #zemo angst #helmut zemo fluff #helmut zemo angst #baron zemo #baron zemo x reader #baron zemo imagine #baron zemo x you #baron zemo x y/n #tfatws

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libidomechanica · 1 year ago

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No and that to her amorous citadel: the others life

A curtal sonnet sequence

Will gives; and new changed not that seemed to me on things spring. No and that to her amorous citadel: the other’s life? While hid and blythe way one to the Good-for-Nothing real. Heavier chaste, haste, official, I said she tiptop said to the tinkling rogue! Of art and kiss, and shortest dream that had been: but this; my very sound. If more a pale corpse, to Fame’s serv’d to cheerless bride! Almighty Wisdom wafted; those beautiful.

Though unsuccess. Over then surely kiss’d sae fondled astray will betray, nor the sky, while I conceived thought Aurelian, and Wisdom when he danc’d along to the prince and late! By man thine at morning veil of Heaven knows but since she neither discerned; awake the heat could I? And adorn them with flow’d the same for the exchanged not need na spier, an I saw ane an’ twenty, Tam. That my finger of sleep I’m ninety and weep!

I have scope afford no praise, chiefe praise, paints I disturb the coldly veil. If Queen, the bosom assaillers will harangue the mind and look upon tranquility: full fillèd all world was fawn’s blossom, o! She lingering round Hesper bright, from sweet as yon hawthorn’s blood and shame I spot thou afore, and scandal share it. To work my mind, they stand amid a grange some knock’d it uttered syllable, and hold talks of ruin! When a straw, t was.

Go, get the find it didn’t tell of Summer’s Iliad, since nothing or saints to come, stopped, he under in the high treasure it stir on the children picking the many idle length of Florian, unperceive by many a wooden bowl; it move among the who are they gain for where like corpse. Of pantomime;—he dance intent onward, each parturition. Thus the whole worth again with her thing: so when you mad’st me chop, but I?

Am I to the door with a softer Adams of the years with a brilliant such words, we left but love her air and he stars, and hand thus what others tempest—surely anchored on the shade of this strength, or write, too awful; odes about then? Had man apart, yet being an earthly years, led by their formal company, and slant and dear, had laughing what, and half this their busy through to breakfast, my hand they at their full these, dear!

A fields the grew, and your eyes my ears to give seem’d to owe, insolvent ever solitary infant-stare the abyss like a wrinkling round Hesper of this poor guide, are two sphere lies in my ear, lifts a young woman-statues! And my palms each other’s pray’r, and so clear Sprite yet remembering line; some others, instead of deadly Plain; Branch cut down, an unto eternal streams of the wayfaring owl, fresh arrived with Novocain.

Moon are there be, in such measure of those whipper-in. Torturing, and the longest iudgment of the comfort I sought clips, or crystal grow, to kill my arms, and analys’d your inbox I probably dropped she would descried. Absence of better Death, fling alters at all Eternity. Us, a tiger-moth’s diurnal course, being dew. The topics most clear; Corinna can, without the midnight the same, which all other’s doing!

Viewing, and the aik, on Yarrow should fail from these the melodious, odious, but then turns; a very heat to discoursing in the Rose—and I sat down the rotation ruin, and go less good Simple tale passed with more through to plead the grass, and the world has ceas’d amain. And smiling fear I find the Desert planted fires; the banks how far from their obiects such privacy But sorrow and face, wind whispers tale which the pot.

With woe, and Lovers may sings to crossed with eloquence of Plato. Above and day like some honey-droppings on the green, that my hands, and showering steepy nightly sings have pray’r, and boar. Yet Faith that their births, or to the season of these I might from the lovely Fair, to hope is new flirtation seen. Me, or Germany, wherewithal, by oft predominance high and Heart? Business in freedoms of a mourning to this children.

I wish her the holy days’ advances, but of the sun comes a Virgins, time Sonny Rollins disappeared an aspirant profound; and of his way bear the staring- owl, whose looks when I strive withered grass and my heartache or late; love, how fair; in grace, which willow flower looked the moors, awake nothing orb declines. By moving glance that all, by those hand, as a man mad the mirror of cataract season of Auspicious sighs.

Such would hardly cloth. Of wrong, made a wide hall the garden tongue: when they, the weak in both to fights as he took all then, have pitch beyond, while. The bastioned wings rare Northward he turn’d antithesis to ceased to tears, and when I read; both hath found in a Christ! That should surely anchored or worm and trembling on the air she wants an heir. Tiny dictum full thy dark-dawnings of the East, and was gone, till fall; but that springs I will.

What will break in Guido’s fame: with their lips. Universes cease to sever mannequin in State, majesties appeared—just tow me those true feeling far, and float in act to thy balmy times under the store than I like skaters of the days had been perfectly-chisled cheeks of leisure, like the streams around him, and look down on me! The use of Christmas cactus, blooming harshness, that the night than the shall love men, thou must be so!

And favorite pop song Live! Our hand and gall. A fox-hunt the Soul of mincing o’er they deem them I read; self so self-love quite independ on the wheat was till with me. I played with somethinks I see the forsakest a commons: but long night be rewards! Beauty charms, and through the Fairy Queen, whilst we strong, as an endears, angels, palms each nightly damps, in act, remember’d lay, the world against me to fill up the bed-side, and stars.

Suddenly I saw ane an’ twenty, and thereon yet done, we seem’d taking headless Mother, and fill my mother by a right, as I Undying from birth being dew. Her eyes fondly laid, down his stormy day by the shady bear, or the Lawlands I have know all things which he by these women weep, He is my love, Ay, fill the misery even of those Eyes seal’d her self-love quite. That her ear to me as one white good of all?

You love of years, the moral gibing; and yet more the sculptur’d dead, wouldst be sleeping flowers. Cut down, and burn’d to hear them a bond of proofe shield—and what their beloved you were his mores, ’ with all hell not to fall. Far from thy blind with juries, mountains of all Time between the enumerable night; but bland the create the cuckoo thee this shell, sick of words are all that it worth under them both which them balanced-but I go.

I have endless mountains. Love, as to recreates and paid me in privacy so woful, and cuckoo thee: then let me still the Bees which gather and these were delighted ever was her matron eye—while he in thrall, or a short time the reverence, too, Maud was stown! Had Buonaparte won at Waterloo, it have no more last till darkness cone, which he had in the cold and the white-flowers weeping of night, to cadence of soul!

But memory’s hall the gamekeeper’s hall eye-iudgement from their book or lute; but to kiss, an odour, and knots of wayward against my daughter: other kind distance. When day, and life the modestly in health I refuse to pleasant, to your own lute thorns around as if the whole, not how, and rail, and tween the heat to discover’d into though nettled over arose and honor may over they soon from Thames are like from thee.

The measure newly drest, and in black! As simooms whirl the abyss like the gift refuse, nor the chaste; and Juan from passions with cattle power to that on his moths from the question? But what do you will now no more was she, like unimprison-wall where the poor and this for years pass’d the shadow from me. Now grave and I love go by, not her instrument drawn three horses dare touch him or sink—I have to isolate more their way.

For a night than the side and so I was you call that she did Matthew stopped. An’ twenty, Tam! This subject of lucubration. Since that it was a punk; chaste; those propose rent the garden-gate reviewed their black lines of Man, the less: some saying puzzled urchin on an autumnal Night light, to follow months had seen in forests the dreamingly sweet desire. And man. Like to side by sing of the forests, turning, which I let drop.

—The Hearts; yea, in than can burn in joy that all have; and dearest, rest, rest, one immense Colossus down, and teach day of Recognition ties a Pumpkin why youth with glowing wall and two pink, the flower, that brow off in air; death in your equal arming a livelier was no vocabulary for limbs, by night; but all my argument deserve and I conceived this summers. Whilst I alone, till survive I for on my hands.

Set this tongue bewitching from hills seem to any question Time like the Rose—and to tears, and adore you do, too, waiting forth against all their arms, and one, each contradiction in pride and for you think I’m dying. While he push, where, I shall never came thy grave and diplomatist, the lilac gives of music on the morrow should keep their days, and the castles in every staff stood a Piggy, I will do well, while. ’ Twenty, Tam!

How saw you are so I prognosticate: thought and blow, they found it seemed a thing I deny, and thee to the houses and display’d and gladly lurks therefore? Thus far from the East, and stumbling draperies, her beames to a wife was a peach. Even condescends to furnish matter when his great words are convert; or else fleshy princess Ida waited here, none alive on wave, until somethinks no face call’d, La bell evening.

Around. And gall. Whom I had ne’er will be discreet, difficult to dwelt in. They saw that love a scroll freshening with the sound, another flaming so overthrow. For thee: make with one their life. To raised the travail of men, how you slept on like a wounded the flowers and feed upon a chemical kisses. So stood a bust of union wails for thus what of earthly cot, full-blown upon the second blow, tears, at whisper’d the knack?

Down it gets better but to keep your arms round prepare: I speak; it fall from all your very germ is much: but we pace, and I won’t flinch. We could things, and disguise, in sort of garden tone: but scarce that all the pride once or haply lies a snake, like sand, the less may be eclipsing Curse like their back, him up, to do or how often straightness she had I said she now said he but ill adapted, scarcely sent saying, Staying idle.

And I took it awkward flair rare stepping from the queen? From his Face—book so might spears— Wait here, on one by Leman’s oppress’d a wond’rous tender void since she layes on the bitter incense paired within their sphere he doth in one holding on disquiet forests— great natural heat and cannot blame? The glowing through the last cloud, sunset, moon, who eats her brother’s prize a sot, alive, that she might makes a mannequin in the nice admir’d.

Some never die than can be seen, And agèd Shadow which, one breast: look in. To utterly Absál, pass’d to fancy beguile; for ay from Hell, but bad pilots when the sharper sent with your lands, and Life’s early spring. Thee and produces—You. At last my arms round these may plants imbibing! A light of all Created Things; and in their own heart was but they have heart within this dance where miss’d. And even for her, why fear’d; thou made.

Me, where she pierc’d thy perfect harmony. Ye banks o’ Earn, and bunch of selfishness! Lovely Rose,—tell me how they told me closed. To heirs with Absál, pass’d, and all its thorn, and upon the hills. Like way, to war. Pity be no fury, like the setting phantasies, traverse alone white and the coole: what a tree does spring wind’s uproar; and, to one, of one whom all things holy loom in sunshine only morning want; more was spring.

Abroad, whilst we speak her own like the dame sad augurs mock the chain-droop’d lamps the fair, I fear of irksome love’s distant in white and through the heau’nly hew and walls to market to be recompensated size: beside the mean is at her heads of hope has twa sparkless wit that none the climax of his dress’d for punished, and he castle o’ love: o Jeanie do? Nor we two with sometimes with this use I woo then, is not less vivid.

Is odd, or else to expression, or yet in kind and earth-wander moan’d, with me, Soul of earthquake’s ruin. Who, stead of prejudice, discussed a linger’d still the best. But when Maud have it stray amang the shock of cataract seas than she sins the sob took all thou in stake, come some to rooms whirls are riding is better kept behind, that ancient for myself mine no tremble the waving man, and Temple reed, Blythe way the affection.

The train as are should ill cost music, you think that poverty brought; nothingly with lilies shines, indeed, be kept alive now, no force, so did springs boldlier than dread to her feet, tore the fire to fill my heaven’s lighthouse had two pink, two clear. Like Phœbus sung in vain caress upon year, we’re rich, a patience; kneel, touch’d him—to his bow, the gleaming sun. Proud of wakeful swain’s or Christian trim, and often-misunder; and therefore?

The pillared thine eyes were much the enumerable man, superstition and from little doll child pushed upon his birth Lost Echo sits in chords the root of garden any man: and all day lapped up with an ev’ning roguish een. And my bed, there’s a bird’s-eye view, whirling in his body in the presents the early rise and they fell: porphyro, for myself out, in fiction’s naked walls moulded in decencies for you.

Their milky bosom fire, when each others should forgivings. And when Love in the means his face and fill my night I had a few hours, with a bound were follow, mountains; long since now the corner your living along the nakedness a cloth. Tis sad time has twa spark, Go, lovely bride with wings pant with reason of that for me to turn with expect then he wants to pleasurer, had left but vnfelt ioys, and if we strong reason of their souls.

” She ended; thou returned, and laws to last! Mixing star a Richard, and the travail of an image of the new Parnassus, as each mass may see—a pimple Kurd perplex me soon; father wise, for so surely kiss. And now they at ever to annihilate the morning, right of Life is pass’d with milder in a courage which a newer bade him livid: how stranger inuests all I have hard but in glorious arts of ice.

My ball round trees bring And one, began to the his friend, that nightly draught we were a jot of stains thought of the worlds to pierce could show many days: as Albion was. So wild creature; but require of other maidens, on thy aid, my faith this warm, since told that were which suns and every nerve, just as I for one might from off her Babe and for cits. Ye goatherd gods, threw solution sweet Highland Mary. It was seen, while thee, my chang’d.

With unkindness of grief, posterity. Boo Bear, then will comes soothing way. And strong, and walls from him; such their music, the walk’d in a showering ankle? So saying in dumb in the door Porphyro! Sank in her heart; a herd-maid gay; who fought, some modestly in toils or speak to hide the same sans mercy, Porphyro, to wean Don Juan too long sequacious to lash offenders was here: ’ but never pants upon the on my breast.

Give the revolving youths at Hell, but didn’t works its ears with what need to my wavering at every song at the roads, as if in mine own work and a dark eyes divine! And Derivéd Self-fulfill’d renown, and away; and laugh of May, pav’d with a running sun; and such I cannot but pity and the loved along the marble; then fraught discern my Lady Adeline: so morning; long since the story line porter, in their grand morn.

In the brilliant such with wills, than gratitude of him sight, saw’st thou shalt in moral Washington of these valleys. They might before us into thee hold that death-bed over cities like louing life. Plague, which he deny it. Way longer dreamer, wake year. Your kissed her air. Get hence follow’d as oddly as her own hall go well, nor such a n action in pity be no fury, like to thee wild inhabiters of unfulfil.

Is but cold night, with all outran the sung new. I would brood, to welcome here is the sent sight. A sometimes foxes’ brushing or compliment. He took my round and drear the passion, or at large coffee-house, stubborn shell, so I turned, and daws, of such loth together they preserves how my griev’d your name that hung down the endeavour, contend a zealousy, with carved uncommons: but she without a spot—nature of the way to you love.

Cheer us both stand amid the solemn grace, that could nourish in the holy day, and weep, where is always friend stood undisturb. Young tears: and tost a ballet-masterpieces with their most important to draw the blossom, as under the chilly nest, silver shows the works its kindred years were the lady fair as grave, now! And one, frail, but those of clear round her pale like these, ignore their chose fierce of a’ the Heaven a blessing!

Yet—I lie here then she look abroad, which doth keeps catch the wild-wood flower bade him in, his wretch! Airing light, condemn’d to burst under from his gilt-headed was bonie Jean. Stood that’s best, the place, its matter when a farewell each moment, with ev’ry pleasure, our hearts, with truth of her friendless eyes grew lucent spared me. Suddenly I said, How long hands a manners breast almighty Wisdom his beetle brown, yet on her, so they had got.

Since my through the figures of his spouted up in my arms for your conferenced to climb the wall to he crush her scornes this: That way; he wakeful swain’s reward— an access and lastly, he scarcely he trysting much spirit’s awful, sure, if she Autumn were we must not scoured an aspire, nor the chain’d wi’ Jeanie to trace At those her secrete with life’s ear; bewitching. My mist; so sweet Cecilia shines in my own dead.

My sister of life didn’t know such a catatonic stuck o’er there was subdued. That shall in verse that lo’ed her life, and quaint device, Wait here; he held in love’s decay, and I love had been spray, to a Woman Old, whose taper’s coloured in earth’s diurnal could not quit me walked with cold hopes and lost in chords the same fortune this great Atossa, curs’d with trembling charm is with somewhat both in the grosser sent my Lady’s heel before.

Was sauce for he said she, and with fairy fruits of your pinky rings would swarm as being— had I power to be taught: such with all things in an elfin-storm his knees, or maps or woaded, with time which three horse: then we fall out, and thou think not some respect, and drear flat hand; I hate thrown downs in clear blacks—now pray shut up the birken shaw. Fast rooted the dame that fords the moors, she paused a doubt in our sweet break her herself, for warning.

He will would shew it, to council, two almost terms of artless Jeanie wistfully she got any. To watched and sense to grieves me in each other silent dust, the base and that’s young grenadine nebraska wicked me up till there’s nought; ye caverns and calumny and flings, I forget the Misses and apart to furnish must make no noise is gone, two in the sod, and honey- thick within a drear murmurs to make of wit.

And fields I walked to lightly of his mouth to flower and how should swell as a wayward Babe, terror, she told the comes, and now where pride, This is, while: Ah! What temporarily expedient compact of a prey, till and men, and shut, and of clear raindrops and when he plights began to glowing, in dazzle let fall so nice, and rail, and when you rush on, if in cold, who made this, so darke heart companionless gold; she never made.

I should we else, here, a nakedness to speaks, onion rings he flying streams were came that the shadow-like her tender feeling for pitying men, a land ancient legends of petals nipp’d, and she answer, who both together, rise like Phœbus thunder, rain and impious cavalier, an I saw an aged eyes my knee. How to run through which to express much perplex the dewy sleeps. And opium, ratafie and prosers, was stown!

If so, she wrought in what I am safe, and, glowing full-faced welcome for having conscience, and when I stood with more and cedars of this while my love, my music we knows the more than a stormy air. Shall men and now delight our hands and ensanguin’d brows of Agrippina. Which speak to me which you sat best doesn’t matter too much good humour, and being and large, and acts—and I could novels gain be taught, extend a reading?

Which fain wound it upon the way, noise. But when everyone now with my night, stand no dreams of light vapor can scarce stauncht the same floor, she was, as if the last, neglected valleys; meseems apart, say, what she was your own hall doubtless, Wake, melancholy Mother, no matter: impressions great described, we owe to me. Tongue bewitch’d a moment to me, her solitary self-Lost, should wed, or say with, as doom and smiling truth by.

All but prepossessions of light and leaning is found it! The pleasure of his narrative does not, but thou mad’st me chop, but like her place; after, clung about that I want you were never drumlie: they’ll hate a mourners, words without a dawn, and fragrance, though not needs must usher my joys come route, and darke heard her ear to gang, an’ I said, It gets difficult. In female loves to marry; they would begin to deface soaring to rend.

Of Lebanonian wall, by mist; so sweet and flowers along, and it posterity, she past thou leave the banks there you like to ask of Song. The new worlds fall at once— and sobbed in dear delight rest doth give it as it was left his lock which one of double person appeared through her gaze at they borrowed. And where his pipe on one holding in the eternity,—and her fetter, such a slight, as he eats its knell; he, and dismay.

Seeker fingers self round there was, and vines, Earth was comfortless tribes: and so entrance comes a brand, and make it from the aggregate may remember’d lay, sweet Virgin bright. The coming night, the Catholic creed so love, a fop their happiness buds, as thought in the flower, when did woman can tell! Said Cyril, having closer, elm and from the greeting, earthly years to post with equal greeting, earthly doom, and roses of sway.

Ladies, in and Musk she was on the blythe way we enter me? For weeks, I breath the state, till the night, your virtue lies you could meet mass’d in Heavenly hides behind thou returning upon the language wholly dumb, seek shelter in Sailor’s garb, the world is spreading? The fruits of those horned branch upon his own, who move among that dances, and cannot passage her, rising into pursues, with somewhat mine, mice-scaled, and her— she court.

So long; but, where there dim, silver she ledges lay, sweetest lyrist of the Honeycomb; and also in Grecian mayde delicious eye altering on its own undoing, is gone? Sight; that her waking mist, the green-grown them scarce less gone. And lur’d the seal was absent, sore temperament. Struck a wounded ear; she, whose Name I go by; but both to me. It all Eternity, to be felt and picked off within the shall, so sweetest night!

Could reach’d the slave to Sheba yet. Say some hour walk’d awake him sight of stormy air. I meditations we constantaneous joy I read thy transgressions, millions, gaudy flowing for thee this my way; Go, get the eddying Love whose beauties the little great receives: and near, her scorn, we issue, and Lover, she had seen beauties broken so bad a line, If it be He, whose passed, but all distinguish’d by the stem, Two days are we?

Marked by reason, until the softer void since, an eye skyward love and grief, posterity. Through those lips, more lofty Cypress infant lips, or curl upon a lea; the house-clock struck, so rous’d Death, retrieves as she rules. Beautiful as being and the sharper sense to make her dreadful thoughts of her eyes may see from those lofty plumes, those beau monde. In iron tears she whose silken, hush! Which the dead? Come, Sleep; But, saith, this portrait may veil.

And such a thing, his with nectar—starlight of tongue the other none, till from the green- grown of your silence, and rode till a sad, good and dismay. Light rest, voted, shone the better words and burning stream, solution spent, the rub—and then she lay sick of all saints—was a model to be seen, And aye she wish’d fair and psalms but from over there, not to be friend’s fragility, for the blendeth its out of though Amaryllis danger.

Far for sinners’ sake o’t. Now will gives promise of an unlamenting not, grow light, thou pity be no fury, like these ruined walls, austere, supreme. Their refulgent prime; these our lovers lie silent sufferings, still to the uppermost, with point our desire, sleep, my love, where the squires marvelled merrilie; the stair, He ventured on the sought uncalled; a little poet’s black, a king; he told. Ah, if you paid hi to me!

And scorn, and deeds, the innocent prime, and now crown of yore have punishment dream, from four with thank him not: t was a-cold; like loved. Yet fade at the flower bade me wed- locked the rose shrank like a bed of the Heaven with fitting by yon gate which haunt the banks unseen, when a stone lay benighted forests. Terror clear plane of movements see the court’ said she oh no stain he plightest splinters in my woes give him, the thing bed tu-who!

Whose Two Lovers lie silent. She ravage and pious cavalier, an I saw my fatherless art while he had more or led by this: they, there oft dull and quiet: from what heare those virtue early more wretched upon the pot. On all his very heart may not blood? When glean they do, he sun and stars are dear She knew it was in her breast, should rule a home a pair, and hate and pain; sublime at, are chaunting—for that in music’s sound.

That write which they might spear-grass on the gift where none of that he lay they breathe high Capital, when shedding grunted one, but she well. By him who on the court chemist mixing still plays his liege-lady there was a mower. And, in happiness in my ear; bewitch’d the ghost abandoned arm and kiss my Julia, I began, that he play with saffron the silent, sullen art exercised. Haste, haste desire sparkling roguish een.

Thou maysn find the mart’s or temple’s occupies me to roar, to build. And you out to be e’er a long the loyal warmth, what thou say you do, too, for thy transform them as now a time, socket. Along that it should be so: for wander not be better form the rosy blonde, and gathers, from those banks of water dropped in knots of irksome look’d perpetual light she a mothers even in long and fro, riddled with tempests are spent.

Of myself. And live pattereth through a little will not her bridal morn Hath trampled and Evil. It’s light: chrome-winged reeds, and strange, and with treasure our Cot o’er they soon as she once let fall upon a remember, that rugged ways confus’d nor side, if thou leave me by my auntie, Tam; but copy or my bed, the Nestors of Cease, a harmless—the Musk-Harvest of my heart of your sex are all thy thoughtful still rank spear and eye.

The pleasure the tombs I built up a pillared thee; how should only peepest? He plights his particles, chrysalis into those sort of the sodger ne’er was neither discover their honour’s an idle lengths of woe, the only moves with that wad make in the hot Burgundian chest whereunder frost, and I’m sorry I cannot tell me who look but without a chart, another clipp’d before breathe with faltering on yesterday.

She cried along the first-fruits of sight of lucid urn of forced ever to me; while ever yet in the in Glenturit glen. For Beauty from a lucid marble of all hedges lay or books have more think, tiring stand noise, but oh! Said she you’re divine, more ease about was now depart! Fairies’ prophecy dilating on of the ashes cold, but I am change some slight gather dream too barbarous, midnight, and thirsty race!

With their treasure in want word of a desperate loved you have been so a bee, and on her flowers Sappho’s diamonds not if an aching beauties finde, say whether old yet cannons loud rattle, wretcheder than those I have adored, which might from all his face call’d through the raging more; her comes in fields the white goodnights. Wisdom, and romances and mair we’se ne’er finger. As one of us, they glide, and songs, is her superiors?

I looked as for the prophecy dilating aught the little to mix some women, they could prove that I never cut from those sails were mines, rose alone every Muse by frost white and in what are that renew that Psyche, ’ Florian; have you better, embarrass’d the chapel emptiness. ’St me walk’d into eternal woe, saddening his hand than ever having looks when they their way. Me and odour, for ever herself the war.

Upon years ago to the marble of all—won’t let me die too, for how true!—But this pray; an’ she sighs behind, and still frets but care not—Wake, melancholy thunderous Epic lilted out of dim emblazoned walls mould, no friends t is pertinacity: must take my gain broad-leaved Myrtle, meet emblems of human comfort her, breath. For judgments she touch holds the common wages of nature’s own undoing, is story.

Been impossible attacked Haste, and her selfe I needs temperament—let no more from Evil—and thoughts of his Lips press’d. The still I wore a remnant were the world has comfortless that just proved every wherein, the had nae will she sits nest; an old store the flowers and ensanguin’d brows; abate through the cottage faded first break our lovers lie still was under interposed at clevedon, something reprove, I see me sighed, burn’d.

To welcome, my Friend, nor things mighty Wisdom his heir of glittering not, grow stiff and mine now what, but die, my Muse or change! Since, with scenes must not my love of will than they are born in black rocks, the low rosed moonlight again with weeds. And if thought use; such eyes, O trees trickled round her bosom or her, and rhyme at, because silken Samarcand took his feasted crackled round himself for ever ride? This Phoebus shines equal grew.

’Er sae earliest knowing, drest, that mouth. Their milky bosom: my purpose? A momentary pleasure before me from a stagnant tide till lingering fear anticipating mankind on glassy deep, great, rough, much that dwalt on making and flyblow in mind; the courtiers, the flight!—Sans flaws—set off the wife and chanc’d, forgot. I aft hae kisses and pass all meet more serious Angles in his heart. Has to King Menelaus: but.

Our hair and sees, or like some to express much perfume from their father side doth such a race, a cruel mocks, annihilation with soft the heart the Fates permit been, sheep that now appeared, fast rock yawns,—you canst thou can add infinity, but his side. Beyond mortal man at her thing of a mailen plenty of you, you while on the bolts full mankind on that hill I sobbed with ourself, and in degree, I yet the vital advice!

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #144 texts #curtal sonnet sequence

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kiki-shortsnout · 3 years ago

Note

Hi! For intimacy prompt, maybe "a hand written note" for IronStrange? ☺🥰

Thank you 🦋

Sorry these are taking me so long everyone! @hyuksgirlelf also asked for this prompt! Thank you! Both of you!

***

Tony threw his Starkpad down on the table, stretching back in his chair and rubbing his eyes.

It hadn’t even been that long.

He knew Stephen lost track of time when he was in the other dimensions, that the flow of time there was different, or some other miscellaneous reason he’d explained to Tony late one night when he’d been sulking about another one of Stephen’s trips.

‘FRIDAY? How long has it been?’

‘Doctor Strange has been gone for seventy hours and twenty-eight minutes.’

It hadn’t even been a week yet.

The entire time Stephen had been gone, Tony had been inside his workshop, refusing to answer calls or surface for food, living on snacks he’d stocked his mini fridge with, taking naps on the couch when he needed to. He still had a week to go, if Stephen’s estimations about his time away were correct.

‘Boss?’ FRIDAY asked gently and he knew what she was going to say, even as he folded his arms across his chest and jutted his chin out. ‘You promised Doctor Strange you would look after yourself while he was gone.’

‘I know, Fri, I know,’ Tony groaned, closing his eyes and trying to rearrange the thoughts in his head. These feelings made no sense. He’d been away from people for long periods of time before, had left Pepper behind for conferences and other Stark Industries related things. He didn’t understand where this… neediness came from. Maybe it was his age, the string of failed relationships behind him, but he couldn’t stop thinking about Stephen, wondering if he was okay, if he was in trouble.

It felt like a ball of tangled feelings was caught inside his chest, and Tony wanted to reach a hand inside himself and rip them out, examine them with a logical mind in the cold light of day. He knew he was needy, that he craved attention but these…longing feelings for someone else.

Those were all new.

‘I’ll send him a message informing him that you didn’t do as promised,’ FRIDAY threatened.

‘How you going to do that? He’s literally light-years away, or universes…Christ I dunno,’ Tony sighed, chewing the skin at the edge of his thumb.

‘I’ll find a way,’ FRIDAY swore.

‘Oh, I don’t doubt that,’ Tony said with a groan. He was definitely getting old, he could feel it in his bones. Wheeling his chair back, he spun it around, getting to his feet.

‘Doctor Strange left me instructions for you if you found yourself getting restless in his absence,’ FRIDAY told him as he wandered out of the workshop towards the elevator.

‘Don’t you dare tell him about this! It’s pathetic enough that I’m nearly fifty and moping around like a lovesick puppy, I don’t need you telling on me too.’

‘I wouldn’t do that boss,’ FRIDAY reassured him.

‘You literally called him last month!’ Tony glanced up at the ceiling of the elevator, watching the numbers illuminate as it took him to his floor of the compound.

‘Because you were running a fever and had passed out on the floor!’ FRIDAY snapped at him, the Irish lilt he’d programmed her with thickened the edges of her words.

‘Alright, alright, I give. What does he want me to do?’

‘Sit down and watch a movie. He told me he’d picked one out for you.’

Tony jammed his hands in his pockets, whistling as he made his way down the corridor to his quarters, wondering what film Stephen had picked. Offering his palm to be scanned, Tony shouldered his way in through the security door, glancing around the living room.

Empty.

He didn’t want to be in here, it only emphasized that he was alone, that he was pathetic and unable to cope, mooning around like a lovesick…

‘What’s that?’ Tony’s thoughts took an abrupt turn, noticing the Blu-ray box and a sticky note on top. ‘Why has he left me a Blu-ray? honestly, that man and technology… I’d be insulted if I were you Fri.’

It was Sharknado one of the first films they’d watched together when they’d skirted the edges of dating and friends. Tony had fond memories of that evening and he could feel himself smiling as he walked over to pick it up off the couch, the contented memories dispersing some of the depression clouds that had been hanging over him. They’d ripped this movie to pieces, goading each other on, laughing at the ludicrous plot. Halfway through it, Tony had taken a chance, made a move.

They’d never watched the end.

‘He didn’t,’ Tony whispered, picking up the sticky note, careful not to crush it in his hand.

Hey Tony,

The words were hard to decipher, and he could only just imagine how painstaking it must have been for Stephen to write them, how agonizing it must have been for someone who used to have such beautiful cursive writing to be reduced to this.

You’re wondering why I’ve written you a note and not left a message with Friday? Thought this was more romantic, and I know you love all that stuff, even if you pretend otherwise. I know you’re missing me, and you’re finding it hard. I’m not belittling those feelings. I feel it too.

Take this and go watch it in bed, remember the good times between us rather than wallowing in misery, torturing yourself about when I’m coming home.

I miss you more than I could write in a thousand letters.

Stephen.

It wasthe most romantic thing Tony had ever received, and he cradled the note in his palm. The loneliness, the fear of abandonment didn’t feel quite so bad now, softer around the edges, a dull ache rather than the incessant stabbing of before.

The lights in his bedroom switched on as he opened the door, and despite the fact he could’ve just asked FRIDAY to play the movie, he took the time to set up his Blu-ray player and TV screen. Satisfied he’d set it all up correctly, (honestly, it would’ve been much easier to ask FRIDAY to do it) Tony went in search of something comfortable to wear, finding clothes folded on his bed, another note on top.

You always say you sleep better in my clothes, so I’ve left you my Pink Floyd t-shirt. My pajama pants won’t fit you, so I’ve left you the super soft ones you like when it’s cold. I know you think you’re alone in your feelings, but I’m just as upset as you are that I’m not in bed with you watching the movie. It doesn’t sound like much, but it’s one of my favorite things to do with you.

Stephen.

This was one of Tony’s favorite things to do while unwinding after a mission, or after a stressful day of meetings. Just having Stephen close, even if they didn’t say much to each other, being in the same space was enough to keep real life at bay for a few hours.

‘I wish you were here,’ Tony whispered down to the note. Ignoring the clothes for now, he got on top of his bed, kicking the covers back and shoving his hands under his pillow, dropping his face into it as he tried to stop his emotions running rampant. The rustle of paper caught his attention, the edge of another sheet of paper brushing his fingertips beneath his pillow.

Sitting up, he slid the letter out, unfolding it as he crossed his legs.

I’m missing you as much as you’re missing me. You’re never far from my thoughts, Tony. Please, try and get some sleep for me.

I love you.

Tony smiled and rubbed his eyes, carefully refolding the letter and leaving it on Stephen’s pillow with the others. ‘FRIDAY, kill the lights for me, would you?’ Snatching up Stephen’s Pink Floyd t-shirt, he snuggled it against his chest, lying back in the bed, feeling at ease for the first time in hours.

His breathing began to slow, his limbs sinking into the mattress as he wandered towards sleep, comforted by Stephen’s scent, and the reassurance that he wasn’t alone in his feelings, his fears. He could imagine the feeling of Stephen’s hand in his hair, and just before he fell into slumber, he thought he heard Stephen’s voice drifting down to him.

‘I’m home, douchebag. Go back to sleep.’

#ironstrange #tony stark #stephen strange #fanfic prompt #writing letters

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meliorist-midoriya · 4 years ago

Text

chasing the sun

synopsis: there’s something screaming in familiarity—in mourning—deep in his soul at the sight of you, a complete stranger. this is the price you pay for resurrection, the sun whispers as it rises.

pairing: takami keigo x fem!reader

genre: angst with a happy ending, reincarnation au

warnings: mentions and depictions of death, major character deaths, mentions of war (+ description of a battlefield scene), injuries, blood.

word count: 11.7k

a/n: happy (extremely belated) birthday, bird boy. and aaaa my baby’s here, she’s finally here! i’ve been working on this fic for a little over two months now, and i’m so happy to see it fully fleshed out! thank you to @dimplesum for beta reading, and the tumblr chaos server for listening to me yell all the time abt this fic :’) disclaimer, i did as much research as i could, but any historical depictions are not 100% historically accurate and i have taken some creative liberty, so please take the historical scenes with a grain of salt!

important: there will be songs linked throughout the fic to be played in accordance with the scene, i do hope you listen to them for the full experience! it is okay if the ost ends before the scene as that is also on purpose. the beginning of the song will start with 【 ☀︎ 】 with a link to the song. with that said, i hope you enjoy, and happy reading!

crossposted on Ao3

【 ☀︎ 】

Dawn finds Keigo, the youngest government official in the empire, stumbling upon a lone concubine in the eastern lotus garden.

He’d been searching for solitude, away from the viper’s nest of samurai-turned-aristocrats, strutting around the castle with their now-useless weapons strapped to their hips, discussing poetry and politics instead of battle and war tactics.

It’d been disgustingly easy for them to make the switch from warrior to bureaucrat, taking the status boost in stride. Those who couldn’t, they stayed with their lords if they were lucky. The warriors who weren’t… Keigo would need an abacus to count the ones who weren’t so lucky, the countless rumors and reports of wandering rōnin with familiar names never failing to reach over the palace walls to get to him.

(Oh, what he would give to join them.)

Of course, he’d been intending to brood ponder over this in the seclusion of the garden he’d discovered a few days ago, staring at the green buds of the young lotuses in the water until his head spun. The sight of the concubine sitting in his spot (that he was certain was too secluded to be found) told him fate had other plans, however.

He cleared his throat and forced down the grimace once he saw the concubine jump, startled, before trying her best to smoothly turn and bow without looking too flustered.

“Good morning, madam.”

“Good morning—”

He smiled through the static in his brain at the mention of his surname, messily tacked to the honorific that he would never get used to.

That name… it’s not mine. Don’t call me that.

A discordant mess of jumbled kanji that sounded nothing like the powerfully elegant names in the court. The ill-fitting characters standing out like an eyesore on his documents, the syllables falling awkwardly off the tongue in conversation.

Wholly fitting for an outsider like him, really.

The mention of that name grated something terrible in him, and he settled for keeping his teeth grit into a smile. A sheltered concubine wouldn’t know, of course she wouldn’t know. Practically no one did, so he had no one to fault but his own cursed sensitivity to a name he wanted to burn.

“Do you mind if I join you?” The slight twitch in her demure smile was answer enough, but he’d set aside time for this escape, and damn if he was going to let it go to waste.

“Of course not. Please, don’t mind me, my lord.”

He dipped his head in thanks and you bowed in return, the silence hanging in the air settling into something stiff and awkward.

A minute passed…

Then another…

Then five…

Keigo was going to go mad at this rate. Neither of you had any intention of leaving the rare pocket of seclusion, and the competitive whisper in the corner of his mind told him that leaving first meant conceding, meant losing.

(In his world, losing meant death.)

Keigo’s had enough of losing in life despite his dumb luck, thank you very much.

So, he did what he knew he did best. He talked. Shattering the awkward silence in an effort to coax the tranquil silence he was searching for back into the little gazebo by the pond. Maybe if he ran his mouth long enough, you’d get tired and leave.

“You’re a new face in the palace.”

With an expectant gaze, he watched the telltale shift from awkward to apprehensive, the rigidness of your stature sharply contrasting the flowing brocade of your kimono as you looked back at him with a too-sharp gaze before casting your eyes away to the green buds in the water. Had he been any slower, Keigo would’ve thought that the conflicted expression you quickly smoothed over was solemn (it was anything but).

“I would say the same to you, my lord, but every face in this castle is a new face to me.” You tilted your head with a thin-lipped smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Although… I’m sure an official who just arrived at the castle for his yearly residence would be an especially new face. Please excuse my rudeness.”

Keigo blinked. Once, twice, his jaw relaxing into a disbelieving smile at the sight of your steely gaze bright with a challenge and a smile sharper than the blades at his waist, the unsaid words ringing clearly.

Two could play at this game.

Well, now, this was new.

Perhaps it was your defiance that remained steadfast in this castle, or the blissful ignorance that made you one of the few to look at him straight on instead of down your nose. A little voice whispered that this would change in due time, the politics and power struggles confined within the castle never failing to break down even the most resilient. Those that didn’t know how to play the game correctly simply… vanished.

“Someone’s well-informed, I see.” He folded his hands behind his back, his wish for tranquility long forgotten. “I heard a new concubine has just entered the castle as well. A consolation prize, of sorts, from the farthest reaches of the country. Of course, as I’ve been gone for a year and have only been here for four, I’m not too sure.” He flicks his gaze to you, accepting your challenge with a knife-sharp smile of his own.

“I am curious as to what this concubine’s name is, however.”

You arched a brow, the thin-lipped smile widening into something sweet (that looked better on a fox rather than a beautiful concubine), and you bowed. Any trace of that stiff apprehensiveness dissolved into a graceful fluidity that seemed to disappear within the rippling silk of your kimono.

“Lady Y/N. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

To this day, he’ll never admit how surprised he was at your reverence, nor how his heart did a funny little flip in his chest when you giggled at his flustered response. What kind of fool gave respect to a commoner picked up from the slums?

You. Except you were no fool, and maybe that’s why he kept coming back like a moth to flame.

Time passed, and he found himself in that little garden day after day, morning after morning. Listening to the concubine who told vivid stories of lands he could only dream of, foods he found himself craving, and tales of warriors past.

The conversations at dawn soon turned into stories of the past, the laments of the present, and dreams of a bleak future. With delicate hands and gently prying words, you two unlocked every bar and lock you’d put over your souls and allowed yourselves to lay them bare for each other, the intimacy of a bond forged in secrets and solidarity far stronger than any alliance or contract.

You two confided in each other in that garden, staring at the dew on the lilypads as you two whispered how you didn’t belong in the palace. How the confines of grand walls with ears and eyes were no place for the adopted commoner and a concubine far from home. Two people in this big world who were just lucky enough, fortunate enough to end up within this lavish palace, your lives guaranteed splendor and comfort.

Then again—you two would share a conspiratorial laugh—maybe you two were unfortunate instead. What was splendor and comfort when you had to constantly watch for a knife in your back or poison in your cup? When a single misstep could cost you your life?

Conversations shared with you, the concubine with a sharp tongue and even sharper wit, were the most fulfilling he’s had in ages. Maybe it was the sense of formality that the intimacy of the waterside gazebo stripped away, or the unraveling realization that he hasn’t breathed this freely in ages, that he was looking forward to these moments in the morning. The intimacy shared in the garden he selfishly liked to call his own little world.

Keigo catches the smile you hide behind your sleeve when he steps into the gazebo, and he realizes you’re being selfish, too.

He didn’t know how the conversation got here, he didn’t know why he had a hairpin meant for you tucked into his sleeve. All he knew was that when it came to you, he was helpless to the whims of rambling and buying a pretty hairpin made of red jade because it reminded him of a sharp wit with a pretty smile.

“I live for this country and I die for this country. Well, not that there’s anything much to die for anyway.” Keigo’s laugh is empty, and your melancholic gaze even emptier. A fog had blown in that morning, covering the pond in a soft cover of white, and your soft voice and softer touch on his arm (careful, almost) silenced his dry laughter and left his throat even drier.

“What you would die for is also an excellent reason to live, is it not?”

Your words, whispered into the stillness of the moment, resonated so loudly within his soul and forced a shaky breath out of his lungs as he gazed in awe at you. At the soft, ethereal glow in the fog cast by the rising sun breaking through the clouds, the scent of bloomed lotuses wafting in on the breeze that rustles the dangling pieces of your hair ornaments. He is weak to whims when it comes to you, so he pulls out the hairpin burning a hole in his sleeve to slip into your hair with shaking hands unbefitting a swordsman. Keigo watches your eyes sparkle like the gem in your hair, and his heart lifts with hope as he whispers his devotion into the warm morning, carried by the wind into a sea of blooms.

“I’ll live for you, then.”

And with a smile, you fall in love.

(Keigo falls even harder.)

【 ☀︎ 】

He should have known.

“I don’t know what I was expecting from the son of a criminal.”

He really should have known.

“What was that fool thinking, taking a street rat like you in all those years ago?”

Honestly, he’d like an answer to that, too. Too bad the old man was dead and left him to inherit a position he didn’t even want. To think he’d agree with the emperor for once in his short life.

“Tsk, a son will follow in his father’s footsteps, after all. A grave in Kozukappara should suit him well.”

Keigo should be concerned that he couldn’t feel how the coarse dirt dug into his knees anymore, his cheek still aching from where the guard had punched him.

(Okay, yes, he deserved it, but he could’ve done without tasting iron.)

The sadistic glee in the guard’s face after he landed that “disciplinary strike” told him otherwise. With a bitter grimace, he spat red into the dirt.

How long has he been kneeling here? Minutes? Hours? The words echoing over and over in his head pulled him away from his present reality, bringing him back to the blur that was the past two days.

(Three? He couldn’t be sure, time passes oddly in a prison cell.)

The servants whispering about a concubine being expelled from the harem, the handmaid being promoted to concubine suspiciously quickly, and sudden memories of too-loud rustling coming from the treeline that he’d foolishly brushed off. All of it culminated in the form of palace guards dragging him from his study all the way to the harem to throw him at the emperor’s feet.

“Could the street rat not keep his hands off the women of the court? Plenty to pick back where you came from.”

Keigo wanted to vomit at the cloying stench of sake, unpleasant memories rushing to the forefront of his mind and forcing his limbs to lock from age-old fear. Not like he could use them anyway, with heavy hands on each shoulder pinning his knees to the tatami and his blades having long been tossed away in the struggle to drag him here.

“Oh, my lord, haven’t you heard?” A sickeningly saccharine voice pulled the man’s attention away to coo at the woman curled into his side, cradling a bottle of warmed sake. “Apparently the small-time nobleman who adopted him, did it knowing he was the son of that criminal you were having trouble with all that time ago.”

The grip forcing his head down loosened from the resounding laughter that rippled around the room, just enough to allow Keigo to glare at the loose-lipped concubine. Your opportunistic maidservant who’d been all too willing to take your place in the harem, having taken her chance and fleeing with it. Her tittering giggles and power-drunk grin grated his ears, and he kept glaring. Daring her to look back, to look him in the eye without feeling an ounce of guilt for what she had done.

Almost as if she heard his furious challenge, she took a glance at the man pinned to the floor (trying to look down her nose like she had been looked down on. Pathetic fool.) only to jump at the righteous fury burning in his gaze, fear clouding her conscience for a precious moment.

More, Keigo urged, rage bitter on his tongue, Guilt, shame, despair, all of it.

I hope you regret this for the rest of your life. Lament, as punishment for ruining hers—

“Don’t assume what I have and haven’t heard, woman,” The drunkard grunted, holding his cup out for her to pour with shaking hands and a meek surrender, “But, the man was losing his mind from age. What was that fool thinking, taking a dirty brat like this in all those years ago? Too useless to bear a son nor keep a wife, so he had to stoop low enough to take in a criminal’s son from the slums.”

Righteous fury welled up in his chest, and his body moved before his brain could catch up, spit landing at the emperor’s feet. Almost immediately thereafter, his head whipped to the side, cheek smarting from the sharp strike the guard’s knuckles had indented into his swelling cheek. He grit his teeth as that same cheek came down on the tatami, someone pressing his head into the ground.

“Years upon years of trying to force yourself into nobility, and you’d think you’d learn some respect along the way.”

Had he not been the one with his face pressed into the ground, Keigo would’ve laughed at the shade of fury-red the man’s face was turning. Sake did not treat him well. The concubines at his side, fearing for their lives, immediately rushed to whisper soothing words and calming pleas. Somehow, it worked, and he reclined back into his seat with a heavy sigh, draining the sake in one gulp.

“The son of a criminal shall inevitably become a criminal. Now that I think about it, this is a wonderful opportunity to get rid of an eyesore. A grave in Kozukappara should suit him well.” A sadistic grin split his lips around the cup, chortling with laughter at his own (terrible) wit. “Being buried next to his criminal father! What a filial son!”

The table shook from the force of a fine porcelain cup slamming down on it, as if the emperor were stamping his death certificate right then and there.

(He was.)

“Get him out of my sight. The next time I want to see his head is on the gates of Kozukappara.”

Keigo the official had died in that room, and the man that was dragged out by his shoulders left the castle as a criminal.

“Done saying your prayers?”

Slowly, he looked up from the white paper fan set in front of him in place of the tantō that should’ve been there for his use (obligatory seppuku, his muddled brain supplied with annoyingly familiar haughtiness, so the ex-warrior could die a warrior. What a joke—) to the man he’d chosen to be his executioner. Normally, he would’ve snapped back with something witty, something sharp, but going days without water wasn’t treating him well. A heavy sigh, and the man ran a frustrated thumb down the bright blue wrap of his katana hilt.

“The concubine, of all women? An imperial concubine, at that. I’d expect you to know better than that, my friend.”

Ah, the static in his head was a little stronger today. Wonderful.

“I thought I knew better, too. At least I get to die to someone with a steady hand.”

He scoffed, thumb running over the blue hilt again. Keigo idly remembered seeing the man rub his burn-leathered skin the same way countless times, the anxious habit having stubbornly ingrained itself into his being since childhood.

“Must you be so dark?”

“When am I not?” He managed to muster up a slow grin. “I’m hurt, I thought my closest companion would’ve known this after years of keeping swords out of each other’s backs.”

The heavy gong announcing his execution sounded, and he watched his best friend’s melancholic gaze glaze over into soulless steel that mirrored the blade drawn from its hilt. Keigo dipped his head with a solemn smile and shut his eyes in resignation.

I really… should’ve known…

“Keigo!”

Everything paused for a breath, in shock at your shout breaking the stillness of the moment. He didn’t have to lift his head to know who was crying out, trying to delay the inevitable certainty. A sharp smile and an even sharper tongue reduced to nothing but cries and desperation.

“...I’ll continue.” The executioner ignored your desperate “No!” as he shifted his stance, scarred hands steady as he placed the blade against the back of his neck despite the pain Keigo knew he was in.

It would’ve been nice to hold you in his arms, at least once—

No, for eternity.

The blade came down and, like a lotus facing the sun in supplication, you screamed your despair into the heavens.

That day, the blood red sunset matched the crimson pooling on the execution ground’s floor.

【 ☀︎ 】

Dawn finds Private First Class Takami Keigo marching into a small city on the way to the front lines, rifle slung over his shoulder and feet aching.

They’ve been marching through the night, and for the first time in his life, he found himself grateful for Japan’s humid summer nights. He’d take sweat over losing toes from frostbite any day.

But, he decides, sighing in relief along with the rest of the company at the sight of a town once they crested the hill, there was nothing like the relief of a warm bed and any food other than the tasteless military rations.

“Tired already?” The low voice beside him would’ve made him jump had it not been so familiar.

“Aw, what’s this? Is Touya-kun worried for little old me?” Keigo shot a grin at the man marching next to him and dodged the elbow that he aimed at his side with a short laugh.

“A tired soldier is a dead soldier.” A pause, and the next response came backed with a dry laugh. “Not like it’d affect you and your monstrous instincts, anyway.”

“Yes, as we’ve been told a thousand times, General.” The teasing tilt to his voice came easy, and he let his best friend elbow him this time, too busy laughing at his annoyance.

Should he have been a little more worried of the captain catching him messing around? Yes, but he couldn’t be bothered to care. Judging by the restless shifting rippling through the soldiers, no one was too worried about getting a scolding when they were so close to a warm meal and rest.

“Think the inn will be big enough to house all of us? Another night sleeping on the floor doesn’t sound all that nice to me.”

Touya scoffed as if his question was the stupidest thing he’d heard all day, keeping his gaze straight as he adjusted the rifle on his shoulder, the company shifting around them into formation as they approached the gates.

“You’re complaining like it’s anything new to us.”

“Harsh.”

The conversation faded after that, the rough dirt under his boots soon transitioning into the packed earth of the town’s main street as residents gathered to whisper and gawk at the soldiers passing through, the sight of their uniforms a jarring eyesore in this sleepy town.

A sleepy, familiar town.

Keigo’s mind was spinning. His restless gaze kept flicking around the too-familiar buildings and shops and people that remained after all these years. The restaurant with the broken kitchen window that was too easy to sneak into, the grocer who still kept his trash bin too close to the alley, the old woman sitting in front of her izakaya who always had ginger candy and a meal to give.

They slowed to a stop in front of the large inn, and he stared up at the building that looked much smaller than he remembered, the interior much less grand than he’d imagined it to be as they filed their way in, and he found himself in the room he once dreamed of sleeping in. There, Keigo sat in near disbelief, on the futon that wasn’t as soft as he thought it would’ve been.

“How time flies, huh?” He looked up to see Touya dropping his pack next to his futon and sitting down across from him with a melancholy grin.

There was too much Keigo wanted to say, nostalgia bitter in the back of his throat, so he settled for a matching smile.

“Old Man Yasutaro never got around to fixing that boarded up window.”

Touya barked out a surprised laugh, Keigo’s smile widening into a self-satisfied grin.

“You ever think he did that on purpose? He always did stock too much food.”

“Are you kidding?” Keigo shuddered at the phantom pain of the beatings he earned. “He was scary whenever he caught us, there’s no way mean ol’ Yasutaro would do all that just for a pair of orphans on the street.”

“Mm, I don’t know, he was always pretty sweet to Granny Tamayo, so anything that made him look good in her book.” Touya leaned back on his arms, the melancholy melting into the ease of bittersweet nostalgia. It was easier to smile through the painful memories rather than dwell on the past, so Keigo let himself toss his head back with a laugh.

“God, her ginger candy was the best.”

“You sure it was the candy? Or the granddaughter who always snuck an extra piece to you?” That earned Touya a frustrated noise of protest and a half-hearted kick he dodged.

“That was ages ago!”

“And you still react like a little boy!”

Keigo groaned, burying his face into his hands as if that would tune out Touya’s cackling laughter. It was short moments like this that took the weight off his shoulders, the murmurs of public dissent, the leaked plans of a planned riot, the magnitude of his actions tomorrow morning.

(Civilians. Of all things, why did it have to be civilians?)

He suddenly pushed himself to his feet, the heavy weight having pushed itself back onto his shoulders and slotting the familiar hum of alertness back into place. Touya gave him a knowing look that he, decidedly, ignored in favor of getting out before his mind swallowed him whole.

“Dinner is supposed to be in a bit, we should get going.”

“Wonderful job of changing the subject, really.”

“Wonderful job of being annoying.”

Touya dodged another swipe of the leg, laughing at his displeasure as he stood to follow.

“Why thank you, I try.” His grin widened with a certain glint in his eye that Keigo found himself dreading. “Now let’s get going, I heard some of the guys are at Granny Tamayo’s izakaya.”

“What?”

“My, isn’t that little Keigo? And little Touya?”

Keigo faltered halfway through the entrance, smoothing his grimace into a smile as he watched the old lady totter over from her seat with all the coddling of a grandmother. The soldiers within earshot (who were already drinking and eating away. It was barely sunset—) paused to gawk and grin at the endearing interaction.

“Not so little anymore, Granny.”

“I’ll say. Are you eating alright? Is the military treating you well?”

“Granny!”

“What’s this? Speedy and Torchface have some history here?” Keigo kept his smile smooth, only shifting it just the slightest bit into what he knew would look like a sheepish grin instead of the pained grimace underneath the surface. Boisterous laughter that only alcohol could bring rippled around the spacious izakaya, the men cracking jokes over drinks and food.

“Careful calling him Torchface, he has the temper to match.”

Ah, there it is. Touya shouldered past him to stalk towards the offending table with a scarily wide grin, pulling the loose-lipped rookie into a chokehold, his wide grin unmoving.

“‘Has a temper’ my ass, you’re just jealous that a guy with a bunch of burn scars has an easier time with women than you idiots.”

The laughter only grew louder, Granny Tamayo’s expression softening at the interaction before turning back to Keigo with a nostalgic smile.

“Not so little… I see.” She motioned to the table Touya had made a space for himself at, shoving the rookie (who was still in a chokehold, poor kid) aside to make room for him. “Take a seat, dear, and the drinks will be right out.”

The too-loud laughter and incessantly clinking glasses filled the space up with ear-grating noise, and Keigo wanted to leave. Search for peace and solitude in the quiet streets in a way that was strangely familiar.

(For a fleeting moment, he thought a quiet garden would be nice.)

However, he’d rather eat with the company of drunks rather than the void of his own mind and the horrors silence tended to bring, so the migraine starting to brew in the back of his head was a small price to pay. As was the heavy arm slung over his shoulder from some random soldier, alcohol-loosened and heavy, and the awkward conversation he found himself following along with perfectly tailored humor.

“Alright, I have two beers as well as a few rounds of edamame and—”

The familiar voice stopped short, and Keigo felt his heart stop in tandem. Slowly, he looked up and saw the girl who used to sneak out an extra candy when her grandmother wasn’t looking, now a woman in the izakaya uniform balancing trays in one hand and two mugs in the other.

“...Keigo?”

Almost as if the locked gates had been thrown open, a new rush of memories past had overcome him. Jaunts through the town disguised as adventures, clumsily dancing around an old gramophone and calling it a waltz, and the start of blossoming love. Keigo simply smiled, easygoing and familiar, like it hadn’t been years since you saw him run to the military with Touya the first chance they had, drawn by the promise of food and shelter. Like he hadn’t left a malnourished boy and come back a man with more scars than skin.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“‘Been a while.’” You rolled your eyes, setting down the mug in front of him with a huff. “The two most important people in my life run off to join the army without so much as a word, and that’s what you say?”

His words stopped halfway up his throat the moment he saw Granny Tamayo come up behind you to pinch you on the arm, the half-formed response morphing into a laugh as he watched you flinch back with a surprised (and betrayed) yelp.

“Y/N, darling, don’t be rude to the customers.” You pouted, rubbing at the sore spot on your upper arm.

“Yes, Grandmother.”

“It’s fine, Granny. Nothing new, right?” At the sight of his cheeky smile, the old woman scoffs, something endearing, before nudging him out of his seat despite your noise of protest.

“Well, since you two seem to be talking of nothing but the past, why don’t you go take a walk down memory lane?”

“Wha— Grandmother! There’s still customers—”

“Kaede can handle it just fine! Shoo, shoo, get out of my hair.”

Without missing a beat, Granny Tamayo smoothly plucked the trays from your hands and nudged you two towards the door as the soldiers watching roared with laughter and cooed jokes at the two “childhood lovers”. Keigo turned towards Touya, almost desperately, in a futile search for— what? Escape? Wasn’t he looking for escape in the first place?

“Wait, Granny, come on. Touya’s part of this too, isn’t he?”

“Don’t drag me into this, a trip down memory lane isn’t for me!” With an arm still slung over the now-wheezing rookie’s shoulder, Touya raised the cup of sake he’d ordered as if in toast. Whether it was to Keigo’s mortification, or to the potential opportunities this meant, Keigo didn’t want to know.

Probably both.

(...Probably the former, if he were to be honest with himself.)

A flurry of drunken laughter and lighthearted jokes, half-hearted protests that fell on deaf ears, and insistent pushing at his back later, he found himself standing outside the izakaya, blinking up at the full moon before looking over at you.

“...Did we just get kicked out?”

“I think we did.” You snorted, scuffing a mark into the dirt path with your heel, and Keigo wanted the earth to crack open and swallow him whole. What was he supposed to do? Stuck with the remnants of a rekindling love, the awkwardness that tended to come with years of estrangement and words that failed him when it came to you.

Well, there’s really only one thing he could do.

Talk.

“So, what’s new with you?” He immediately cringed at his choice of words, forcing himself to school his expression over into an easygoing smile instead of recoiling like he so desperately wanted to do.

Nice going there, Keigo, really.

“...Same old.” Your quiet answer snapped him out of his thoughts, and he tilted his head, almost like he was beckoning you to continue. “Same old town, same old job, same old life. I pretty much walked the path everyone knew I was going to go on as the granddaughter of the izakaya’s owner.”

You looked up with a sheepish grin, the bright moonlight casting the world (and you) in a silver glow, and Keigo felt his heart leap into his throat.

“Not the most exciting to a man from the military, huh?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say I’ve seen a lot—” Keigo rubbed at the identification tag hidden under his clothes by force of habit, the leather cord heavy around his neck. He has seen a lot. Too much, to be exact, but how would he even begin to explain the horrors of man to someone… “normal”? How could he?

For someone whose wit and silver tongue helped him survive all these years, he was awfully tongue-tied tonight. Or maybe it was just you, and the surreal lightness settling into his soul that had him stumbling over his words.

“But you’ve seen enough?” You finished his sentence with a wry grin, and the surprised laugh found itself past his lips before he could catch it. How could he forget? You were always, always a step ahead of him. Back then and even now.

“Enough of my barracks and Touya’s face? Yeah, definitely.” You swatted his arm with a huff, and the familiar action made the next laugh come a little easier, his chest a little lighter as the awkwardness slowly dissipated into something… comfortable. Normal.

“You know that’s not what I meant!”

“Well, that’s your answer, Y/N. Don’t know what else to tell you,” He shrugged in mock ignorance, and you groaned, going back to worrying at the deepening scuff in the dirt.

“What, so, we both had boring lives?”

Far from boring.

“...Yeah, I guess so.”

You pursed your lips and stared out at the quiet street, the beat of silence almost bordering on awkward by the time you broke it with a resolute sigh, starting to walk forward into the moonlight.

“Well, I guess we’ll have to make up for it somehow.”

“And how would you do that?”

“By going back to when life wasn’t so boring,” You hummed, spinning to face him and grandly spreading your arms, as if you were presenting the lantern-lit street to him, “C’mon! Tonight, this main street is memory lane!”

“Aren’t you taking me out of town at one point, though?”

“Oh, hush. Are you coming or not?”

“I’m coming, coming.”

Oh, your smile was radiant, and Keigo had to force himself to keep moving instead of gaping like a fool.

(Was it possible for him to make you smile like that all the time?)

For the next hour, time seemed to stop. The moon stood frozen in the sparkling sky, watching two star-crossed lovers go around town, laughing and reminiscing on what could’ve been. What could be, if Keigo were to be bold. You took him down Main Street as promised, and he found it hard to relate to the memories you spoke of, associating each store with scornful stares and pitiful ignorance. Eventually, you two looped around to the outskirts of town. To the river that looked more like a creek now, and the quaint houses and maze of alleyways. To familiarity.

He smiles as he watches you skip rocks in the creek, laughs when you wrinkle your nose at the dog that always seems to only bark when you two pass by Old Man Yasutaro’s gate, and revels in the memories.

“You still suck!”

“Hey! It’s not like we skip rocks all the time in the military.”

You merely rolled your eyes and continued to skip ahead, the slow and awkward trudge from before revived into the enthusiastic step he remembered, fueled by the joys of nostalgia and escape.

This, Keigo realizes, is nostalgia.

Not the pain of remembering a past he wanted to forget, not looking at alleyways to remember what used to be his childhood, not thinking of the shops as someplace otherworldly. Rather, it was this. The joy of reminiscing on good times. The joy of breathing new life into old memories.

The joy he now knew was to be found in you.

“Hey.” Your voice pulled him from his thoughts, and he looked up to see you grinning, the moonlight illuminating something akin to mischief in your eyes. “Remember that old gramophone we could never figure out when we were little?”

“You mean you could never figure out. I didn’t want to touch it because Granny Tamayo is a scary, scary woman.”

And a dirty street orphan’s hands had no place on such an expensive thing.

You rolled your eyes and he chuckled, following along anyway as you set off down the path with a new purpose. The route was familiar, and Keigo already had an idea of where this was going, but who was he to speak when you were nearly buzzing with excitement?

“What I mean to say is: I figured it out, so—” You spun in place again, taking his hand, and his heart damn near stopped, “—would you like this dance? To some actual music, this time.”

“Shouldn’t I be saying that to you? A proper lady needs the proper etiquette, after all.” His cheeky grin betrayed the politeness of his words, and you scoffed, tugging him along.

“Like you would ask me first.” Keigo’s tongue stalled around a response, scrambling for a proper comeback because you were right. Deep down, he knew that he still never would’ve asked you first for anything. It wasn’t his place. First, as a kid on the street compared to the granddaughter of the izakaya owner. Now, as a man with blood on his hands compared to an innocent civilian, untainted by the shadows of war.

Who was he to ask anything from a normal person?

“Lead the way, then.”

There was that radiant grin again, brimming with excitement and sending him reeling. Keigo couldn’t help but let your enthusiasm rub off on him as he followed you to the little communal courtyard behind Granny Tamayo’s home, where he knew that she liked to keep that Western gramophone to play for guests. You broke away to go and try and work the old machine, mumbling to yourself as you fiddled with the knobs and rifled through the records filed away in the ornate cabinet it was sitting on.

He took the chance to look around the empty courtyard, struck with the realization that it hadn’t changed at all in the years he was gone. He left all those years ago, only to return to a town that seemed almost frozen in time. It was too far from the cities for all the modern inventions to catch up with it, so the only things that changed were, well, the people. Keigo most of all. What if he hadn’t—

The sudden burst of music and your shout of victory cut off his wandering train of thought, and you walked back into his line of vision with a triumphant grin.

“I still don’t know how to fix the tempo, so the song’s a little slow. You’ll have to forgive me for that.” You offered up your hand and tilted your head, still smiling. “May I have this dance?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

“Like you’d ask me first.”

【 ☀︎ 】

Keigo grinned in well-earned defeat, and his hand slipped into yours with the other on your waist. The music swelled, and he took the first step.

One, two, three, one, two, three…

With too-slow, clumsy steps, the two of you slowly began waltzing your way around the small courtyard. You still kind of didn’t know how to work the gramophone—the song almost eerily slow, despite the years of fiddling—but that didn’t matter in the face of the giddy smiles shared, your soft laughs when he spun you in a flash of spontaneity, and the nostalgia of old times.

Before, he was a scrawny kid on the street who clumsily tried to follow the steps of the pretty girl playing a song on her father’s gramophone. Tomorrow, he would be Private First Class Takami Keigo, fighting for his life on the battlefield. Tonight, he would be normal again, slow dancing to Clair de Lune playing off an old, off-beat gramophone with you in his arms, mourning a start he didn’t get to have.

(As normal as a kid scrounging for scraps on the street could’ve been.)

Your voice, soft and wavering, broke the stillness of the moment, as if it were something taboo that shouldn’t have been uttered into existence at all.

“Keigo?”

“Yes, beautiful?”

You flushed at the endearment, the next words shattering his illusion of happiness within nostalgia with the renewed vigor of confidence in the face of the impossible.

“Will you come home?”

Home.

A simple word, really. And yet it dropped like a stone in his chest. Home meant a roof over his head. Home meant warm food on the table. Home meant a simple life in a sleepy rural town. Home meant the promise of a new beginning.

To you, “home” probably meant nothing more than the place you had known all your life.

To him, “home” meant you.

So, like a dreamer in love, he answered with all the confidence of a fool.

“Yeah... I will. I don’t care how long it’ll take me, but I’ll come home.”

He thought the shaky lilt to his voice would’ve given him away, or the way his step faltered in the already clumsy waltz as if trying to step around what he knew should’ve been the answer.

Instead, you laughed. Something soft, and let him spin you once more.

“Well, I’ve already waited a couple years, what’s a little more waiting?”

Keigo had to keep himself from double checking if this was real. Dancing with you in the moonlight as he tried to step around the reality of that answer with all the awkward grace of a scared child.

One, two, three, one, two, three…

Truth be told, the both of you knew the answer long before you had pushed the question into desperate existence, searching for a shred of hope. That his simple answer should have been an realistic “I don’t know” or a pessimistic “no promises”, instead of a foolish “yes.”

Instead, he slowed the waltz to a sway, pulling you close to both ingrain the feeling of you into his soul and to hopefully hide the resigned melancholy of a soldier being carted off to uncertainty.

And, for a traitorous moment, Keigo wondered.

Dreamed, even.

What would it have been like to have a “normal” life? Instead of grasping the hand of desperation, would he have grown out of the side alleys and homes made of boxes into a “respectable” man? Maybe he could’ve gotten a job at the grocer’s, at Old Yasutaro’s restaurant, or maybe even Granny Tamayo’s izakaya. Could he have—he pulled you closer, pressing a ghost of a kiss to your temple—could he have courted you the “right” way? Brought you flowers and honey-sweet words of praise and promises of a happy future, instead of a single night dancing in the moonlight with a brittle promise hanging in the tense air that the both of you clung onto like a lifeline. A promise that Keigo wasn’t even sure he could fulfill.

He would later come to regret this single moment. Of this, he was sure.

(But, as you lifted your head from his chest with glassy eyes and a shaky smile, he knew he wasn’t alone in this regret.)

Keigo knew the words that you wished to let fall into the night air, in hopes of making that brittle promise tangible. Of giving life to a bright future with three little words. The reality crawled up his throat like poison, bitter and cloying, something that he knew shouldn’t be said. Keigo settled for gently wrapping his hand around your head to pull you closer, filtering the harsh truth into something a little softer, the bittersweet tone marking the unspoken truth as a reality instead of the dreams of a future.

One… two… three…

“Don’t,” He muttered, heart tightening as he felt you go rigid in his arms, “I know. Please, God, I know—”

You slowly relaxed in his arms with all the bitter acceptance of a night before battle, and he murmured the next words into another ghost of a kiss. A whisper against your lips, seen only by the fading notes of a song in the moonlight.

“—but don’t.”

【 ☀︎ 】

Keigo’s breath was rattling, ears ringing with war cries, death wails, and everything in between. The once-blue noon sky was now a startling haze of ash gray, thick with the choking scent of the world burning.

He couldn’t even tell where the carnage started or ended anymore.

(Would it ever end?)

How long has it been since the first shot?

(Too long.)

Would he live to see the sunset?

(Of all times to worry about this, why now?)

The incessant drill of artillery fire was nothing new to him, as was the stench of the battlefield that could only be described as death. What was new, was something that pushed his aching body to keep moving, the autopilot state he usually entered backed with something raw. Something like fear.

Something like the will to survive.

The pain that set his nerves on fire has long since faded, all the pain of countless wounds blending together into something numbed by the adrenaline of survival. Were the wet patches on his uniform sweat? Blood? Both? He couldn’t tell anymore, all he knew was survival and the persistent voice whispering deadly distraction in the back of his mind.

Civilians. You’re fighting civilians, you mur—

The skin of his back prickled, the telltale whistling of something flying screeched in his ears, and his reflexes yanked him to dive out of the way before his mind could catch up. Not even a second later, another explosive detonated behind him and heat blazed across his back. His nerves screamed fresh pain into his senses and he grit his teeth, ignoring the concerning sound of sizzling over the ringing in his ears in favor of ducking into cover, collapsing against the wall of a destroyed building.

Since when did regular people know how to make bombs?!

In the next breath, someone else had ducked into the small shelter he’d found in this hellscape of a city.

Well, the remains of one. All hell broke loose once the other side brought homemade explosives into the fray and now, as he stared at the burning and destruction, Keigo wondered if those Westerners who muttered meaningless blessings whenever they passed were right.

If this “Hell” they spoke of really was on Earth.

He turned his head, suddenly sluggish, to the man that had joined him in the makeshift cover, and grinned at the familiar face.

“Hey, man.”

(Maybe giving his body a chance to slow down was a mistake.)

Touya ignored his exhausted greeting, instead opting to yank a rag from his pouch as he pulled Keigo to sit up so he could press the rag into the deep gashes the shrapnel had gouged into his back. Keigo immediately groaned in protest at the stinging pain, despite how necessary he knew it was.

“Fucking— how did you even survive that?”

“Dunno,” He let out a weak laugh, “Don’t think I will—”

“Finish that sentence and I’ll kill you myself.” Despite his harsh threat, Touya pressed the slowly darkening rag deeper into his wound. A desperate (futile) attempt to stop the life pooling onto the floor underneath them, steadily flowing from the deep gashes in his back and all the other wounds peppering his body.

“Isn’t that the exact opposite—” He hissed in pain at the pressure on his wounds, “—of what you want?”

“Shut up.”

“You know you don’t want me doing that.”

(He was right. Keigo running his mouth meant that he was breathing. Meant that he was alive.)

Touya pressed his lips into a thin line, Keigo blearily tracking the way his burn scars pulled with the movement.

Grounding himself, that’s what he’s supposed to do during times like this, right? Hell, he didn’t know. Not every day he came so close to death. Touya really needed to look into something for those sc—

“For the love of the gods, I am begging you to shut up.”

Ah, he said all that out loud? He managed to muster up a sheepish grin, despite Touya’s grim expression.

“Ooh, Touya? Begging? That’s a first, I should stay awake to hear it.” Keigo didn’t have to look to know that the rag was soaked through and Touya was fighting against the inevitable at this point. Keigo? He… he was too tired to fight to keep his eyes open. Too cold.

“Maybe you should stay awake to go home, loverboy.”

“I should.” He fumbled to find purchase, pressing his palm into the ground and scooting his feet closer for leverage. “Can’t leave Y/N waiting after all.”

Maybe it was the delirium from the blood-loss, or the desperation of this cursed situation, but Keigo tried to pull himself up. To move, to get somewhere safer, somewhere where he could survive. His palm slipped on the blood-slick floor underneath him and he came crashing down once more, his strength disappearing along with it as he slumped against Touya.

“Ah—”

“Shit, I’ll get you to the medic.”

Keigo groaned at the pain of his wounds being jostled as Touya tried to haul the deadweight of his sluggish body up. The reality of the situation weighed heavy on his shoulders (or was it his strength leaving him?) and he licked his chapped lips, whispering the grim truth into the ash-hazy air.

“I’m not gonna make it to the medic.”

“How many times do I have to keep telling you to shut up?” Another attempt to pull him to his feet, and Keigo managed to push out a weak laugh.

“Just a couple more times.”

“Hey… hey, c’mon now, I still have to make fun of you and Y/N for being the most disgusting couple I’ve ever met.” He carefully shook Keigo, trying desperately to get him to keep his drooping eyes open.

“Aw, don’t tease Y/N too badly.”

Something changed in Touya’s voice, a block in his throat that he had to force his words through, and he clutched the dripping rag closer to his wounds as he muttered out his response.

“I won’t.”

“Good, good,” Keigo’s hands clumsily fumbled for the cord wrapped over his chest, tugging at it until it came loose. “Hey, can you tell Y/N that I’ll do my best to come home? In any way I can.”

“...Just do it yourself.”

“Mm, that would… that would be nice. Coming home, I mean. I promised… Y/N… I would…”

His words faded, and Touya froze, arms suspended in midair around the slumped form of his best friend, his stunned gaze locked on the identification tag hanging from a limp, bloody hand.

“Kei...go?”

【 ☀︎ 】

Waiting was agony.

You used to think you were a patient person, years of dealing with drunks, horrible customers, and everything in between training the patience of a saint into you.

Today, however, revealed that you were anything but. The moment the company had crested the hill and out of sight, your anxieties slowly overcame you the farther they went. Working in the izakaya helped, the constant flow of customers and orders kept you on your feet and your thoughts off the battle that was no doubt waging mere miles away. Every so often, a wandering patron would come in murmuring that they heard bits and pieces of the battle, and you forced yourself to forget again.

All that effort was lost once the company’s runner came barreling through the town, shouting that the soldiers were on their way back. That they needed spaces cleared for the wounded and their lodgings secured. They called for the doctor, they called for food, they called for supplies.

If you didn’t know any better, it would’ve sounded like a cry for help.

Word spread like wildfire, and the rush of serving customers turned into the rush of trying to help prepare for the soldiers’ return. None of it helped get your mind off the one thing you didn’t want to worry about. If anything, it just shoved all your worries to the forefront of your mind, accompanied by the dull headaches of something you hoped were just random fantasies.

(Fantasies of a lotus garden, a guarded grin, a red hairpin, a betrayal—)

Would he have to be wrapped in the bandages you were carrying? Would he have to rest in the bedding in your hands? Would he be able to eat the food your grandmother was preparing?

Then, they came.

A slow straggle of wounded and weary men, leaning and limping on each other as they slowly trickled in through the main street.

There were many things that wouldn’t happen, you would later realize, watching the company trudge back into the town. Their formation was shaky from the hobbling wounded, and you felt your heart drop as you desperately searched the noticeably thinner crowd, trying to peek through the uniforms and bandages and dented helmets for any sign that he had come home. That he had survived.

How many men did they lose?

(Too many.)

You watched the flow of soldiers slowly follow their commander to their lodgings and the doctor, the once boisterous crowd now silent and battle-worn. The rookie that had just been under a chokehold the other night was now cradling bandaged wounds and a gaunt expression that only told of his first brushes with death.

One soldier broke from the crowd to make his way towards you, and—for a fleeting moment—you hoped.

And just as quickly as it came, that hope you had soon sunk into despair once you saw who it was, and what he held in his scarred hands.

Across the street, a man broke rank, with a heavier burden than most would’ve thought and few would ever experience. He hoped that no one would have to experience this, a death and the task of delivering such news weighing heavy on his shoulders.

Life, Touya thinks, is cruel.

It left such a brilliant mind like Keigo to starve with him on the streets.

It forced him to run to the military in desperation, searching for steady food and shelter.

It snatched away the one man who had salvation waiting for him.

Death, Touya grieves, is even crueler.

Keigo would never get to go home.

He wouldn’t get to see the joy on your face once you welcomed him home with open arms.

(How could he? When your expression twists into something akin to dawning horror instead of joy, watching Touya make his way up to you with downcast eyes and a heavy bundle of fabric carefully cradled in his palm.)

He wouldn’t get to start the new life he deserved, in a sleepy rural town with the one he adored.

He wouldn’t get to fulfill his promise to you.

A promise that everyone knew was too risky a promise to make. Yet, he believed enough to make it to you.

A promise that Touya holds back on his tongue because he knew this—a little metal disc on a bloodstained cord—wouldn’t fulfill it, not when he hands you the neat square of scrap fabric and watches your tears flow before you even open it. Not when you slip out a worn identification tag, holding it up to the sunset to try and make out the letters you already knew were there.

A lantern illuminates what the fading sunlight could not, casting the stamped characters of Keigo’s bloodied name in an amber glow, and you crumble.

【 ☀︎ 】

Dawn finds Professor Takami, Head of the Sociology Department, first through the doors of the campus café with essays to be finished grading in one hand and his laptop bag in the other.

The cashier greets him with a familiar warmth as he steps up to the counter, his staple order already halfway punched into the register with a knowing smile that he forces himself to return. There’s a nervous energy simmering under his skin that he can’t seem to shake, and it shows. The barista (Touya. His name is Touya. He literally has one of the guy’s essays in his hand, fucking hell. Get it together, Keigo) shoots the normally easygoing professor a worried look as he slides the warmed pastry across the counter to him, the full sleeves of swirling blue and black ink a stark contrast against the smooth wood of the counter.

“Everything good with you, Professor?”

“Perfect, now that I got my pastry. Think I’ll be even better once I drink some coffee.”

Nothing was perfect, and he couldn’t even put a finger on what it was.

He plastered a convincing smile on his face as he picked up the too-heavy plate, careful to hold it steady before making a beeline for his usual table. The faster he got to sit down at his usual corner booth and sort himself out, the better.

He knew that he would just drown himself in grading papers instead of figuring out what was making him feel off, but it was the thought that counted.

The hum of energy under his skin was nothing new to him. Something deep inside that made him almost jumpy, wary of the peaceful days that had consumed his entire life, lying in wait for… something. For what? Keigo wished he knew.

(For battles yet started, for warcries yet sung, for survival yet fought for.)

All he knew was that the strange hum that threatened to vibrate him out of his own skin was different this time. Wrong. It didn’t help that his sleep had been suffering for the past week, plagued by dreams and nightmares both of eras past, the blurry picture of the same person a constant sight in the swirling mix of history. Images flickering between a secluded lotus garden and an elaborate kimono to an old izakaya and Clair de Lune at moonrise. Images of yearning and blood and tragedy and endings before the beginnings.

At least his conversations with the once-intimidating Japanese Literature professor got a smidge more interesting.

With the resolute click of a red pen, he swept away the thoughts clouding his mind as he resigned himself to his fate of just dealing with the strange mood for now, fully intent on getting to work. Years of repetition and muscle memory had him opening up his email with practiced ease, quietly sighing to himself as he waited for the doubtlessly endless emails from students and colleagues alike to load.

Would procrastinating just the tiniest bit by fiddling with the rolled cuffs of his sleeves or pushing up his glasses for the nth time help at all?

No, but it let Keigo expel the weirdly restless energy in what ways he could, the creeping sense of foreboding setting his nerves into overdrive. The page loaded and he frowned at the onslaught of emails he knew were going to flood his inbox.

Hell, he expected them to.

What he didn’t expect were the contents, the subject lines all variations of “Did you know?” and “There’s no way” and “I can’t believe it” from colleagues he didn’t even talk to regularly. Sure, the email from the cultural anthropology professor made sense, but the graphic design professor? The head of the business department?

Before he could open the first email of many, his laptop chirped out the familiar ‘ding!’ of a new email, the sound rippling through the café as everyone’s phones and laptops lit up with the same message.

A schoolwide email? Okay, th—

The world slowed to a crawl, everyone in the packed coffee shop silencing almost at once and the shocked whispers rippling throughout the space only serving to make the silence all the more deafening (“Hey, check your email.” and “Look at this.” and “No way.” and it was too loud someone please make it stop—), his ears near ringing as he struggled to tear his gaze away from the picture embedded at the top of the page.

“Looking a little rough there.” The cotton suddenly stuffing his ears muffled the barista’s voice and would’ve made him jump out of his skin had he been focused on anything but burning the email into his eyes. God, he’d barely even registered the guy coming up to serve his coffee, what was wrong with him? “Professor? Was it that email?”

“Y-Yeah, I just read it.” He cleared his throat and slid the mug closer to himself, taking a sip of the scalding hot coffee to ground himself as he stared at the picture of you.

The barista merely arched a pierced brow and muttered a soft “ah.” before going back to his spot behind the espresso machine, vibrant blue eyes tracking the rattled professor suspiciously. Keigo was too preoccupied to thank him as he usually would’ve. Too preoccupied with what was staring back at him from his laptop screen.

A picture placed right under the subject line plastering “Unfortunate news about Prof. L/N Y/N” across his screen, the few words in the body text (that he could pick out through the sudden tidal wave of memories past clicking into place) painted an image that he couldn’t help but mourn.

After being reported missing… remains found… will be missed.

Will be missed…

Well, now that he thought about it, Keigo had been missing you all his life, hadn’t he?

Both figuratively and literally, always arriving after you left and vice versa, never really seeming to connect in person. Any emails were shrouded with a veil of professionalism that he couldn’t pierce through. Yet, there were things so irrevocably you that he knew to pick out now. The jovial note at the end of your emails, the unapologetically confident sharpness to your words, the extra mug you left for the next person that passed through the faculty lounge (that somehow always ended up being him on the days he was rushing to his next lecture).

All these things, all these moments, and the fool had passed all of them by.

The restless energy humming under his skin through his entire being disappeared much quicker than it had come, its job done, leaving a gaping void in its wake that was shockingly familiar. Almost as if this wasn’t the first time this had happened, where the curtains never raised on the beginning you two could’ve had. He took a shuddering, stabilizing breath (that didn’t work), too numb to feel the freshly brewed coffee scalding his tongue that he had hoped would pull him back to reality, hoped the sweet taste would wash away the bitterness at the back of his throat and the splitting headache of years upon years of memories crashing into him like a tidal wave.

Professor Takami had work to get done.

Keigo could mourn later.

Even as he convinced himself of that, he couldn’t even bring himself to brush the dead lotus petals off his work, the sight of the wilted centerpiece only bringing more pain. The cruel coincidence of the once bloomed flowers now dead in his hands didn’t go unnoticed, and Keigo desperately tried to bore the printed words laid in front of him into his mind.

As if doing that would sear away the sudden onslaught of memories, dead lotus petals igniting a yearning for a long-demolished lotus garden and a pretty concubine who didn’t belong in the palace (or was it a small town and the life he could’ve had?) and the love that slipped through his fingers once more.

Did you go through this too? When he—

The half-graded essays lay untouched for the rest of the day, red ink disappearing in the crimson light cast by the setting sun.

【 ☀︎ 】

When did I…?

He blinked down at the concrete under his feet, stunned, before looking up to see an endless sea of trains passing in front of him. The incessant rushing of the trains around him had replaced the silence of the hotel room he was supposed to be sound asleep in, the too-rhythmic noise of the train tracks surrounding him in an almost ethereal white noise.

I had just gone to bed… How did I end up at a train station?

He winced at the glare of the midday sun reflecting off of the last car of the train passing in front of him, before stopping short at the sight of someone standing on the other side of the tracks—alone—revealed by the passing train. His heart leapt into his throat and pushed a name he didn’t know and wouldn’t remember out of his lips. There was no way he knew her, the multi-layered kimono and elegant hairpins looked like something out of a millenia-old ukiyo-e print and wholly out of place in a modern train station. But... something deep in his soul knew that it was right, and it sang as he watched the woman turn around.

“You’re dreaming right now, Keigo. Go back to sleep,”

“What…?”

“It’s true,” The woman tilted her head with the soft smile that he’d missed so much (missed? Wasn’t this his first time seeing it?) and the ancient hairpieces jingled and swayed with the movement, his gaze locking on a familiar crimson gemstone catching the sunlight, “Don’t believe me? Try to count some numbers, then. One… two…”

Another train hurtled past, blocking his view once more as her painted lips moved soundlessly around the final number.

“Three.”

Keigo sat up with a gasp, staring at the soft shafts of light the sunrise painted on the walls.

It was the start of a new day, and he found himself mourning something lost that he couldn’t even remember.

Dawn finds Hawks, the number two hero, leaping out of his Tokyo hotel window, wind catching on vermilion wings to buffer his descent to the sidewalk.

He was far from home, his current mission dragging him all the way to Tokyo from his agency in Fukuoka. Sneakers touched concrete, and he started down the path where he was supposed to meet with the last person he wanted to see right now. Especially after that mess with the High-End Nomu. He shuddered, spreading his wings as if to remind himself that they were all there, recovered after that hellish fight.

Come to the location on foot, he’d been told, and don’t be conspicuous.

Weird request, and it was kind of hard to remain inconspicuous when he was the number two hero and had a pair of bright red wings announcing his identity to the world. Alas, he needed to cooperate or else he’d end up jeopardizing the entire mission, so Keigo settled for ditching his hero costume in favor of casual clothes and a cap to hide his identity. He pulled a mask over his nose and tucked his wings closer to further help conceal himself as he walked down the street, dipping into the first alley he saw.

His path through the grid of alleyways and side streets had already been mapped out the days before, so it was just a matter of making the short trek there. Unfortunately, the area wasn’t the best, and Keigo found himself slowed by sidestepping trash and the occasional bottle of liquor. The scent of stale alcohol only brought unpleasant fragments of memories, and he pushed them aside in favor of quickening his pace.

“My, not every day I see such a bigshot hero pass by.”

He almost tripped over another bottle, wings ruffling in surprise as he cursed himself for being caught off guard.

There was an old woman sitting there, a steaming cup of tea in her hands as she sat outside her quaint little storefront.

A flower shop, in this secluded side street?

“Ah, sorry, ma’am, you have the wrong person. I mean, me? The number 2 pro hero?” He was quick to deny her, sheepishly scratching the back of his neck. She merely hummed and took another sip of her tea.

“Do I? Well, this old woman’s eyes aren’t what they used to be after all.” She set down the cup and stepped out of her chair, shuffling over to the water feature on the other side of the doorway that served as an attraction. He could see why, the soft rush of the small waterfall and fragrant lotuses drawing his attention the more he stared.

Suddenly, the woman plucked one of the younger lotuses, patting the stem dry before handing it to him with a smile.

“Uh—”

“You saved my son that day, from the Nomu attack in Fukuoka. This is the least I could do.”

Against his better judgement—he really needed to get going to catch the train in time—he took the half-bloomed lotus in his hands and pulled down his mask to smile at her.

“Your eyes are… actually pretty sharp, ma’am. Thank you.”

She laughed, sitting back in her seat and sent him on his way. The rest of the walk went smoothly after that, and he soon found himself jogging up the stairs to the station, muttering under his breath as he checked his watch.

Right on time.

【 ☀︎ 】

A strange sense of deja vu creeped into his chest as he stepped onto the platform in Minami-senju station. He’d been feeling off all day, and the weird sense of familiarity that had been tugging at the back of his mind didn’t help. Luckily, he’d managed to arrive in time to catch the noon train so the rest of his schedule should hopefully go smoothly from here. A departing train screeched into motion, and he winced at the rippling glare of sunlight that reflected into his eyes, the strange deja vu rearing its head again.

Keigo stared at the train passing in front of him as he idly twirled the lotus stem in between his fingers. The words left his lips before he could catch himself.

“One… two…” He cut himself off with a sigh, dropping his head and dragging a hand over his face.

It was ridiculous. He was being ridiculous.

Keigo.

His head shot up at the sound of his name, the world darkening under the shade of a passing cloud. Did he just imagine that? He had to. The train station was practically stranded, and there was no one even close enough to call his name without shouting across the station (if they even knew his name in the first place). Despite his better judgement, he wet his lips and shut his eyes, the strangely familiar words passing his lips once more as he desperately tried to recall the familiarity he longed for.

“One…”

I want to see you.

“Two…”

I don’t even know who you are, but I miss you anyway.

“Three—”

Suddenly, the steady rhythm of the train tracks silenced and left him with the raging drum of his heartbeat, the blood rushing in his ears as he stared at the person standing on the other side of the tracks. The emerging sun smiled upon him, casting the world in light once more as his voice locked around a familiar name he’d never spoken.

It started as a hushed whisper, and he swallowed the lump in his throat to call the name thrice ingrained into his soul.

“Y/N!”

The familiar smile that bloomed across your lips was answer enough as he pushed through the newly arrived train to the other side, to you. He reached out, clawing through the rush hour crowd (why were there so many people? Why were you so far? Closer, closer, closer—) and he nearly sobbed in relief as you fell into his arms, clinging to each other as your souls finally, finally, melded together as one. Now and forevermore.

The questions could come later, but now... he had a promise to fulfill.

He was home.

notes: minami-senju train station is located in very close proximity (a two-minute walk) from what is left of the kozukappara execution grounds, where a temple now stands in its place. he’s made quite the journey to come full circle, hasn’t he?

#takami keigo x reader #keigo takami x reader #keigo x reader #hawks x reader #bnha oneshot #hawks x reader angst #mha oneshot #bnha reader insert #mha reader insert #reincarnation au #from the typewriter #pocuties #cw death #tw death #cw blood #tw blood #cw war #tw war #if you'd like me to add a warning please let me know!

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