#i am tired in my body and in my soul and in a secret third way as well | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

libidomechanica · 1 year ago

Text

Its crimson glory spread

A sonnet sequence

First Stanza

By a fine tropes, with her eternal bliss assure ye even to the great god Love pursue, or, one day gaily flew they so foul. The wise pity me? Has not love, all in their mind? And cups, the road beside a lock of my fire. To see things and she said it, and willd my spirit that remembred bay colt with that must request. And buds of your firstborn son. For, though ne’er so well denote love’s religion both wounded deer, o’er craggy mounting sermon heaths, and a blackness she broken chord. It is holliday: for well denote love’s breath, and alternate prayed: give me those year. So little swinck.

Second Stanza

But you to her solein silent among the small around; one day was ripe; a soul I rather by degree; if better see the wind. And leave, so let us view the cause, as judge pronounced againe returned man could ever willow to move her stands erect this sufficient, I know him as the fruits of joy to dauncen eche one by chance to waste, and mars the world light and day; love so much a burden grownd without thy passed for life; the boon that simpering voice and thou no place, made so foul. Pity me thy judges of rest; that when he too-early grac’d: a friend, thou bestow all my tired.

Third Stanza

The time, that fresh Amaryllis, the little can in good young one, that feeds his Embleme. With the charme, and disease, and heard of so simple Doves, and all agree, whom I looked, Bay is light takes in Indian forest side; lonely in the Elysian ground. I cannot yet thy neck soone asks ease. By departing higher there he shock of cataract seas that vnbitted to scorne. An auld with me, I ate with true nobility proclaim, till with ingratitudes she sits in disguise. Of both and town till e’en their woman have her throat. By whom Nature, my love! Know not with thing furiously.

Fourth Stanza

But this same benighted him. Mine only this wood; when the bark of evil; rejoiceth witnesse conduct I resign thy soul’s sun, but a gleamy light, secure of the silence, none can dock, she found in the best. If looking, for his hard toe, her soft hair is so. That bear the firmament, rouse us, and something immortal eyes dote, which Claus of will quite a scythe, which thine eyes, accosted that would strangle with alleys, wealth, our treasures, hours: her Lord him from God: nor the facts. And the mountains dark green, red, and babes, and obedience bid me better fit, as both sides must be the pined with me.

Fifth Stanza

Pardon my girls do, and a part; but my flower for here reade you fall soon be the figure be know: for he hangs aside through the soule and bear amiss, yet often seed cone to take his Pride along trail of moss, you must the full of my lips. Thou canst view the child! The has turn and quivering rather comes to destroy. If I am a shorten, no fear. And when in my heavy next to meet. As now approving father she thou cannot blind, lest Glory end what’s done away throat, eye and fair, and curst began: My lady, and still smiles which I tooke: when he had before than stockit mailens.

Sixth Stanza

But the bush her honourable vows in vain, no secret love, and this failins, ’twill please they now they wouldn’t even as dots now in monarch dies, their image is but rejoice in measureless in such ioy did him shall dwell, they never knew, before is me! Before your body dispose, if thou should find. He bids me fight with might should fetter’s mind; for aught to leaue enriched with this mother’s perish hag remain with all thine their tongues: full she practice eulogies. Which I have to and trees were all to the Atlantic wretch contested farther off the sorrow late, with a stealth of Martha Ray.

Seventh Stanza

But never heart’s comminglèd, as wrecked men— good! All night; a double wings of sin. She in words shall this thou think where liuen, at ease his thorn and with his mishanter face; but if she told thy bared snow and beard, the loue in some movement of you when I see that is so. Of winter is, they would that no pace else, as his Embleme. To the Indies, my flower made him over her face brightened by wife; for that next to meet this proudest braine, cloth’d with her garment was endowments ever be herself was. Free, goodness, but little think’st thou art all your felicity was too much importune better?

Eighth Stanza

—And if a night of his love or dead; but Stephen to tinder. But the eye, here she might be the sun, as hopeless sorrowe. God, or with too much. But I be defile the better your second berth, your souls stand at their falshode more? Melts downe, and are mens follie I cannot compassionate, chast all your hollows of the day, Sir; then the sea. Since you findst thou mayst thou hast the no less and nights better change men’s days of our avenging on bonfires over which may no minutes of life, of heaven you departing at your love the murmurings,—your proffer turn again; but if such a truth.

Ninth Stanza

Of your feet—too bounteous bill of distant in its eerie,—o why sae sweet thief, when she spring; as quickly make the act of the could not be bousing, for years and sanctity so near; farewell! And my poor, yet some Ladies an institution I required. This, at the little Booke; yet poortith a’ I could touch heavy heart most my second berth, nowhere soon exhaled, and which thy birth to please: with reasons lin’d, or country in my bonie Betty, as father blest thou in blissful vision with some sport the flying, and join’d to guided star is a little as the occasion? The chastned mind?

Tenth Stanza

Fairy tale that flower all day light to come. And you wouldst print mortal eye—and though doorways, sweet maiden, can thither give you hear the spring charity: but that did no such a pure necessity. Lectures of hair blowing cake. When face fronting mile- and-a-half Belmont Stakes. To blushing low! Thus season, that only free from so meaning is double wi’ thee, severe comfort from sword to catch’d thy bed: may widow, maid,— her name. The world at his knight, seeing me so dumb as the nation of night to say, into my fortunate. Has no exceptions all the shrunk shuddering day his side.

Eleventh Stanza

By greedy men, bestowest through the tilt of a heavy day I tried in snow thus the grass. Fair pledges on the cause thank yourselves were one, he seldom three, people have felt a soul toward Lambkins beguile: Thy beauty bring the hill, and I have we been ordain, he popt him once and promised you I should cost thou, as being better for me, some pendulum soul, going the sun shall drop some few thou be able to hold it looks at you on you, we have not, thou go with them out, is but she spring: faithful Sun. Of mouths to some to liue in her daysleep, seeing better sight, have fresh green leapt.

Twelfth Stanza

Born I was dancing, lawful there displease you underworld; ah me, we’re wed they did her tender star-flower, when the saucepan shade, of which long before, harsh features, still like Pygmalion, found out the wife. And leaves chatter to give some few thou art every top, and seen me six hundred hunting school boys and louely living ray that as a consequence. Our chiefest weale; breaks like the newell, heare you the matrimonial victory is grew; I gave him take his Delphic lyre; her king Arthur’s reign: so slow; she inroules those ciuil wars to the service do, mayest thou go withstand, small orange cup amassed five been arraigne, edward, nam’d fourth, another’s perish: she pasture, but work. With diffuse; but never ranging, and bitter content of such a broken. Heart I set the stone than Heaven’s assistance stranger! Shoulders the world so soon—you’ll leave your high and mine eyes, and beauty and vnwise.

Thirteenth Stanza

And seized heard. I wear, were virtue known, ere many a teares, and set my tall pine shall be my dear, more last: one sunshine was off his harder to undo the threshold flower and thought of the friend, then with its eerie ping sounds here the blackness the original, twas she: and tree, and th’ amorous sence was Lady that of love it left as to be made their own, advances virtues prove him leave thus, acquiring peacefully; the back just like a child, I think from that did her baby and as he rode, a damsel’s tears even silence, as first in some faults, yet still your honor’s grave, let all might eyes began to cancell’d laws, and bid me beare of your fate, and wonder of the cloth. What with rocks, and think, what eyes dote, what a mass of a heavy, ticks of milk! Take this old tricks off a list of nature found about then he love envieth not so past but I am cattle ways.

Fourteenth Stanza

&Somewhere a boy, and some great or fear, but she was she broke, submits his worse preserved to your magnolia ignite the cold spell the rich might gives you the buzzing of these have not for his failins, ’twill pleased to stroke. I look I do love thee free, that in the day would be if it went to further off then! Thou shalt steered to profiteth me not, though a child there for small carried on; all on a plate as braw and attended bed- posts shines but wait a sign! Suck out this ware, and pass like to swallow, then. Thus full dominion claim. For one plants, which alters hue, finding a cup of camomile tea.

Fifteenth Stanza

Thy glasse he died; for a boy can’t a word or act; unless I tell many days, but every loved in cellars and, like him, but a rich mine, to make your will die somewhere hath spades the ladies, what, dost laughter’s know? I hae sworn by their perfect draught; but with gathers of Lordship tell me why this returning tree by learne it with so pure, so read aright, all deckt with alleys, wearied to be eaten. He saw a creatures of his life, and new that he hung with heavenly fair would he regard to one knot of the doubt I am brent iudge between, no silvery koi swishing to thee poor child!

Sixteenth Stanza

But before I learning late abroade, sperre the lamps&I’ll let you close, in whom daily sail betweene the same he might last her praise the sun, and whereof nourished, and with singing court the sea swings breast; an old song vexes my business might conteck soone would given more white, thou’s be as not so vigorously fast for leauing me all my foe, thee manifest interval affected seemed shee yode a lusty head. Now transient view they can, and to change their merry pranks before her so, as ony brat o’ wedlock’s bed, in mutual bliss from them, as much. Not all bury alive out some defences. And of thread now? I lift his kind. Loved two fishes swimming up the flower in their turns a cheek for company, and girl’s bright, but what the vacant leaves that all the fire, and a fresh fire, that living with discontent wife. Where the other fruitlesse meetings; nor, as we once those who am duped.

Seventeenth Stanza

These officious might it much pertaine knack. I couldst print mortals all over meane at my nature escapes, we must be? Gods holy leer to impart; made so formed thy wrist, the whirlwind’s on the pond and the fourth time is, that I wear like a storm of golden hair, and crowned it more. But by no merrier bene, ylike a kinder colourless fears more sperred after the mix’d mass of me, I think that the bee kisses and bitter touch someone would you are curst the blood, and beauteous moods: like way, my sunflowers oft on fame. And a part, that the sky, when shall sweet dim light to speak of design!

Eighteenth Stanza

Whom Nature or a grain as much of arms and complaining happy stations all the lost bountiful a dole, so fair, on treasure; merry Flocke, so the her fruitless love those koi, still we slide into Love’s channel, run to stroke. Should for vs, home or a hundred maybe, black and fair. The Greeks’ love go by, but ne’er refuse to be at charge, while throne inheritaunce, say whether day with borrowe at the hall eye-iudgement still like stones of Love were a part of her sinks with her decease. Blossoms are mad, with his fate! To give, chance with so curious confesse O nobler couple seen, and did.

Nineteenth Stanza

Full of cherry lips. She had she said or dowry will: nor left espy; and through this, to gathers of comfort I expect you can say or lose. I Stella meete with Aarons pressed; she wanton coast, sick of Faeries, and may returning, not at all its splendent suns, we send arrive with become some were hearts the land when fraught with Hawthorne buds, and state: where choppers taking Virtue be your invention, bear to stones glaze in me, my funny kin, as he found, made for to pay her do you flie from ill her come think that in what words should falls in love not lose hers he then I have felt it in the Lambe?

Twentieth Stanza

Close faire Queene not be mended, or whether think that means miles stopped away; and a new boots. Broke her child at his song she laid down till it chance. Let all aske. Carole Lombard, Paulette Goddard, coy jean Arthur’s court. But if she cries, Forsooth, so suddenly true, sicke, alas, if she denied its frog sits on my hour; unless omissions moone, by whose ravish’d ivory arm; and, could surveyed he tied: restless dearest bands fresh that mine eyes louely to show of moss so fairy quire: sing your Faith her life before of bread a mother’s hair. She cries, Forsooth, and I got too long, and she layes on that strife.

Twenty-first Stanza

And the afflicted came across a sulphuric lake in the rising sun, o knight start bastard kind; what I had bribed above their moss. And if you may for five hundred-years-old name received as once to forgot. Where possessed Lady Flora, on whom Fresh pains sloped down thy father absent from the false Foxe by the married on, and tumbled hates that poor word, or raven black, Alack. More loue new-come guest to skim the pieces gleaning. Beguiled, whose nobler course than Phoebus golden chaine the more; which if I open door: heaven so, Belovëd, will see how he shown; so, in tempest, as they were renew our hears nor mine for to hold it underworld; ah me, were it basks And some ruffled round to give rules of speculation of it. Beside the wife affection; now pray there, whene’er I saw a jutting child, I say, that many lesings in leudnes and as a soldier yields his mind.

Twenty-second Stanza

Stand further none could sweeps aright, and a part; but kill; or else is. Sicker thinkes I hear her sonne. Sore sighs and by some friendship tell consumed be, according thee, why do ye fall to me? As precious Eyes he sets there shine; but plain; as yet those babies in pride, as if her heart? If you my sinewy thighs, oft were ever starved on the wife: the king Arthur with drops of the daring of the rags of Love of sweet Saint both divide this face, and then, stay, until the walls repelled name of mine? In Petrarch’s learn to spare; for fools perverse submissions of the dore, as you, cat and diamonds intice.

Twenty-third Stanza

Till I could find. But that’s the image see. My sinewy thighs, oft with the church unthinking of a salamander a withered lays, some of noiseless and grey. In the Zodiac run, the twined, drag on Love’s going hurt my daily she clothed, she was seeking, or she chaunst to a vice: had she spring: faithfull perfection bear; so did see. Shall not her hyde, she cried: and hours happiness; and that comets, we are oaks, we were. Be not, lovely, liquid, glorious drought. For thy hair over my death. How blest and show: sorrow bring for it is not half as hail. If ever deem they had to the air would quake. Had she was turned his text; nor jealousie shall the rest unknowing fennel, run to scold me. And if I shouldst the dark, the wind is kingly sunflower, little was wet. My sisters thought, how could not profuse; but write my after the Ladde can bear, and to say, thus medled his parents’ joy.

Twenty-fourth Stanza

Of marriage feast-day that light, and, old wife’s ironies entertaine knack. I rise like those handed all his gracious good does thy queen sat lord Loues lonely then loue not what’s the fourth time in letten though paleness holds a part; but what I’m sometimes of the spoils of fond fool, the Wods with pride, then, said it, and thy last Duchess’ cheek, catch at and darken into a twilight with moderately bore him fast my heart, take it, while, they came. Require found no pretense of thy foot’s glee, all is; he lay such an ill-paired coupling Damon, behold, and low! And believe in surprise. But take the sun.

Twenty-fifth Stanza

But from thee for you. Say, maiden; wilt thou thy soul in love in memory clings like hard I’ve dark green, she may, old tile bathroom— all The codes we send arrived, by being wroth God’s creatures, living vision with mints is dripping a trusse of distance that woful day and innocence ought of thee. A fairy guess abound; but as far upward shoots with me, o my Belovëd,—where stand at the like, they follows of the dark, the bubbling if I forgive! You pray, with delicate spirit that I had slain. The most my panting. Heaven and full of the braunche of his love does themselves orbic and song.

Twenty-sixth Stanza

I give resent that’s like curious might reade the fled; and died, and in vain, i’ll tell conceit do only mettall bed to name, I ate with the balme of nought of the floating on and as confederately prevail, and in his forehead against the spray to this life, the night. Come to hide; by a fire of yourself be led to seek the earth, Belovëd, will not do’t in Prose. And all but to day a cruel lovely she courtly troth, and, afternoon, and this unhappy wilt thou wish I ne’er lov’d at such a sad attend a fortune has the heap that’s like them both, and the minde, of such sweet grows.

Twenty-seventh Stanza

When I sit alone I am a shell, or anything reuenge, upon my gift though tis plainly shell, that’s done that heap that he shocks my dear. Everybody love’s eye is no seasons made him from the moment, like turned man could I rejoicing, the countenaunce. But him off therefore? Stella, whom I’ve had laid he, Let other sureties will be quitt with one I love is just as thou didst that not yet. Equal fire, the golden she supplied, beginning the grey peeling mine eyes, ears, for his biding, where you finde, say whether be he I was thy last her poor many rings, as I am to thee.

Twenty-eighth Stanza

There she died, through all his chiefe praised yet for all throne another self and the mought now Io Pæn singing forth such a brides in a fish descending it. So captiues to eternity, insisting the spot to fight at the entrance to thy loving, that no just confessor saw, you take this constant method as God so wet stones waste blanks, and in effect you. Mar my pen the grass unbidden rose, and coffers heaped with milk shalt reuiued be, according the very foolish fashion: but what they stay. The Maker’s oaken spine athwart the Foxe by this you say and night, it brushed my yong soules may blow?

Twenty-ninth Stanza

As one is left it is like his father that was a soldier yielded up my heart halfe aghast: and where, virgins of her the loads and fruitful tree, that was dancing she kneeled; the babe was such, and lovely, thought forgot for your Lesson is far, far removed his lere, that she lived a prettie death, from a sunflower in this is an institution bear; so did thou my ravisher tongues: full casks are full dominion claim his browse, we dropping more. How little step beyond, but to daunce made him take her stiffness by long. And the coarser place you had the meanes, but the gayne, paying but that smile?

Thirtieth Stanza

Your sacrifice, thought, thou thy soul leaves cover- because of stone—and alters hue, and in effect your pitious sway this bas-ket forth a limits pent, of Jealous ears: now I remember sleep. Letting each have fled; and darkest house the best, well alike to a sudden glow: she cry? Multitudes shall see him, he squint on hir whom winged eager earth but write my mind, and all along. The gently even as good, and gentle dreams, and as he may thy tale of my heart her, myself, wilt thou trace and I wonderful; it is darke same specific seas in what thou were to grey; mould remain on my sleep.

Thirty-first Stanza

Affects her smile; and notepads, we slide. Take in my display all he wants to you that so well she must be well denote love’s eye be transfigur’d with long to her minds against a vacant misery! In all his reflection beare the silver sailboats they speed-laden pedigree, muscle and fifteen will my low last recite by pearl- gray lights of thy iollitee. Beckoned to gie ane fash. When I thought to be, to gathering ratio to thee falling hard. The meane at once she from the church unthinking. Where she is but renown, and where to meet decaying. Taming in thy flight to me?

Thirty-second Stanza

A caring, the first woman, which else is. The who could shades, and manifest intense of those cristal spring of thine, sweet a former placed, chafes at the Foxe him on his noon. Was to a feast, that good, by the Heaven is chart thinke no stay. If not your eyes, and she were, even race, and endless fear her senses back, the Kidde, for seed in-felt affect. In the great god Love, whatever see thoughts in a royall the gods had not thy wit, further do you wert not yet. Him up, it could Medea’s magic. Now could go: perhaps when them send, reapen the silence of the gate. To take a knot. But as she.

Thirty-third Stanza

To be, for her beams, so reveale. Lest, surprise—fling through Love in me, we’re wed the cause that great father—none. What, as I have a manger fear, and after here. How little babe you for me; I turn and brings vnto whom the eye: both in beauties wearing heart. And what we shall to stroke. Say, maid, and I will his gift of pale cheese and admit to bear, as if you’d say too: I take vp the faint half-flush that we have fled; and iolly cherish: look, hearke: but have made unapt for you as every wind is kind. Thy return, I am not much thy bracelet gainst no defence, that farthings hard to say, alas!

Thirty-fourth Stanza

With their false impossible to be for to love begin to outgrow they with emulous lovers, thou leftst the fire, by whose love often their fountain-top does the one long farewell my words. The crag to gain, and, having no death; and, could be cherish hag remain on me. Gives me my only forbearen, but never lost breeding, whereto the shadow of identical masks, Tiptoe up to dere a bell, whilst, like the lived interpret thee to the man was his passport is, she cries, and chuse but to thee from the forming us. I cannot prove him to compassion hurricane all night.

Thirty-fifth Stanza

As fast and plagued with such are shut, the town: the lost your time in Fantastique book, shall your eyes loue, some few softly swels in spire to gentlemen, and look, shall I have not— to make out my willing from all wo can abideth faire mine own approve, whose laurels on the way, hid from Beauty, that may discouer whether desired charms could’st unravel for to beaten road? Despite the smooth, let go. Up start, look, even on Marlborough distress joined in such pity is six days of golden lights of those power that in my body love just getting seas that would I leaves in her? I lift his head.

Thirty-sixth Stanza

Watch what straight with his long the shelter of the left, threescore her face to obey. To sayne, nought a vent to your departest; an old sorowe, ne lenged to warm? Could most lowe, I crau’d the baskets. Face. One end he built a museum. Famous tales of moss, you comb it carefulness. No motion; now tis plainly guessed. But when Love’s rites of our strive to drag it to the good descent, and died, and in my heart up solemnly this same flower made drunk to Antony. From us and fed with mints is dripping pleasures of love, I am nothing to me did but death. But where he spot away.

Thirty-seventh Stanza

Of ancient honourable vows received, butter early birds and as she smiles white. Mouthed grave in what you with the cause enough can findest fault, and with a brain? The roses for that comes to enjoys, ever leaves that dare approaching that labours doe avoyd the yate fast for lasting child! To subjects only mettall be my conditional South. But a’ the Indies, my love ashes on a Saturday in June? And coffers her should sweet Elizium, by the heavenly light displease: or would go, and yet, as sooner will hit; thou may look, even of the world’s garded bee, which in the right.

Thirty-eighth Stanza

There, there, and each day would remember when she stood prepared, till e’en thee against my head just proue to love them but one day light my face; the beds, and a new, highly places, I over-turn through then would come where many hour; unless our controller of collusion: for with many women are, or, one upon mine. Golden chain round soon this just as the gods had dashed quite clear. Of those brown length press his sires and hands I couldst thought, and thorns did look waylays my faults the heap that’s that I saw what scent articular song in what they be, come devours, which is the ruby, pearly from below.

Thirty-ninth Stanza

And where the commodiously fast and may against annoy a loyal obeysaunce, an every one, unjust and fling thy purple pride like this is my just, breasts than down on your love; yet when Jove often times a day I prize thy flower as he who save his book appeare more I feel like a cup; your content is uppermost; nor jealous ears, a measured fragrance that—loved the mind. One night, and go at last the proudest kerchief powres are mortall eye, flying nymph pursue the mountain wheeling passion with the child hiding stream that from thee his long her, Laura lies o’ercome a quarter. Scarcely she enough the brickwork’s cleft, some gan to take with tears and fame here is too rude and leave them wends, who would God to me? Like wax it yields of lust to be blesse, fierce darts Despaire, my flowers of the secret cause and headpeace had got about its mouth—rather maid to make your pity on her face.

Fortieth Stanza

That was matched there, without short an amorous eye, so he would your twenty days and my coward to the statue warmed, and sence was the spongy cloud this legs. Each below; the road beside me fornicator, an’ thy passion, found, we sleep without a blush and no envious eye, then the phone direct you that I wear like looke a wild bee farms of your in your case his Languished shall praise; the dreary grave, then dilated organs let us smother sin. All must ne’ertheless into the chair, did not be he I was a meadow’s wish to haste as maids you my self might be five she spot away.

Forty-first Stanza

In my own here it basks And some old lineament there; this blurred. I walke another lends. That her solein silence and pleasant Spring of thy most desire of blisse enherit neuer giue trust, the shadows on the forfeit when my love just to his never heart thine their mayntenaunce. Butter enough strongest iudge this bas-ket for leauing me alone is love of worlds passion; but alas, before than not to iudgements weake: the queen: my liege, ’ said the saucepan shade, of which none could for his bas-ket forth by thy vertue know in part to be from dull and so may against the race. She lay dying.

Forty-second Stanza

He kisses from the faultlesse that charms my whole business that found that he should not lose who design, for his devoured with aching from me his eyes, a thristie soules may you? And where might in your magnolia ignite the old glory as we machine is longer that cleaves chatter at the higher this, and pants as of a mate for he was so fairy horn through this blushing streams, and brauely euerywhere ten freckless matter to give mines of time, Sir, slides by a jagged me much disgrace. Home where haunt me anything else but his faire by whom she saw or knew: and look I do him without thou should find.

Forty-third Stanza

Even of a state he hurricane all night whispers taking in his text; nor want to know us none tell your hands freshest hew, attendance, the two of your head moving points; it is voices were playd, when love so warm? Till the base of the roses fear that saying: faithful from her prayers, and leaves bedew’d, awake the kings, endures but free, that no pace else, as men of five talents of the stroke. When I you pleasure all might had he live every Killing Apennine, retire into Love’s eye is not behave in the smooth pillow to move more, and are mortal lighted our treasure up.

Forty-fourth Stanza

Thy relics (such this were to meet decay. Asked thinking soul, abhors the God have traduce; no entranced in theirs; as loud her better to reproduct and dew upon the noon-day, or if I may sustain and mock me down; tell he that she spake as like an invisible tasks: Gather perfect beauteous mould, and silent amongst men, than let a sisters and drooping rill the dore, and full of discomposed? The tap is dress yellow Autumn press her devotion has start, and all the world, in opend send forth abroade vnto the darling sin. That she doth lies and long orisons forget not yet.

Forty-fifth Stanza

Inquired of that living wings be dead as any, we are she bees seemed she got to say, of her fails; and, reverend ghost since in death: one sunshine and Mars left breath, I rise of thy iollitee. And take them guide my bag with that Martha Ray about, circling arms and death: one sunshine which surrounds here since she her name, and the rich dardanium. Enough from it be all my arms. How shall grasse, thought magic with thee my only train, no silver jets onto the gaze her deceitfull meaning tree by learn how existence couldn’t bear to stir; and giueth good woman but exerted thus, acquiring way.

Forty-sixth Stanza

Could you had the beside a lovely, and of tears that day company, and also sailed on ocean is her friendship’s holy Saint Charitee, then did matched with so heau’nly have put away. This to pick out somewhere others, both soules faire land, nor plain; and goodly perished, we once, quickly me from thy will; and free. How should say take in the ground; ascribed to keep my mind draw from below. By nature escapes, we are breache: seemed about to the echoes rang, while she cries: to you. In this care, I ate with the shady still of the counsel rumbled till to stay her own: but in no one eternity.

Forty-seventh Stanza

In thy life or holinight of flies, and to choose. For invective of darkness and rest of love a world light? I dream she was far upward, nam’d fourth time where lies in the first night; my lifelong he built ten blocks he who can thither hart for meanes of Heaven, and she was deare Flocke, such but with me ye women need grow by their man. I burn the high triumph sat, which mishap this thorn, so old acquaintance strangers fine when He, the tilt of a fly; I hid my love’s eye is not worthy of eyes’ false and late may compete. As highest parts lay hid in a royal malady should be the morning.

Forty-eighth Stanza

But a world’s content; the orchard for that nought feel to-day, he doomed that guides the staid with me through to be matchless Eleonora’s fate. I will resign thy danger laid, a field witch! One gem was their glorious more, and night, Powers of praises in my design! Said he, Let others, girt in gawdy greedie gouernaunce. A thristians of happiness, paradise had dreams have her breath’d defecates. And his truth. There; that cannot, seeing me so long bin place, when full of impossible to the true Honors seate have left off begetting shame stood? And that are shut, the brain to die. Were in one extremes of marriage-bed where thou shalt be supplied, and other bore him on his fearfully on the sky above, all wed. The miser state: when my fate, deepening true, that fell in which is asham’d to further not to me too slow; she want her lawns given that who puff your third, look ye not do’t in Prose.

Forty-ninth Stanza

Some what though I bliss the this book appear in itself: while ye may, old Farmer Simpson did I choose your large an orb, as truly round a tongue thy mind prints his pegs; and Wonder his text; nor wanted vegetables and each would have erred, and mountains breathe news; the soul canker eat him up, it comes from its towers! Whilst the storm, and great hear, my days, my Mary, before the eye, here they proclaimed the false eyes assaid, I tell me where life to one eternity, and set my hire: my promised race, well she plighten to cross our lips are spend his arms and bruis’d, would cease; whether and where be know: for woe.

Fiftieth Stanza

If I am worse and acts and his way he kiss you with me. Ben Battle ways. I care not do’t in Prose. What fury has possession with a passionate lovely sight they pynen in goodness with our speechless Eleonora’s fate! Kitchen-table knight was blithe and means miles below. So we all for me, and thee alone in what most affect. Said she, as his pond to waste blank. And the bound, the base degenerate sorrow’d legs, so captiues affirme! Her pliant body captive to the horn of his chief powres are fed with necks unyoked; nor is inseparate from ill her strong in his obscene desire, enaunter the doubt I am become not due to these he feigneth, look from on hir whom thou when the rags of thy mind with skin stretched at red and thou wilt thou hast stay’d still improve: the mere sighed, and heare. Child at his return, he crumbled hates to side: tis like visitor.

Fifty-first Stanza

And take a new increasing fairly gained, shall the motherly I kiss you stand and ugly as I have been such a sort? Your skin stretched a beam no danger feared again. When first sourse in; no observing state her in the mountain he sight so long he had dreams had cut himselfe was a single and endless can find him more: not so love? This blurred. It make his brayne, for her speache, with long hope, love-burdenous, but draws thine; but all in the flower, would go, and was matched at red and has a crush, but dream I have her lov’d at such profane, so the priests with men, that fair Geneura, with thine ear; farewell!

Fifty-second Stanza

I, seeing brothels of what I had sett him dead. The display about his side doth queme, but speak first, still of my though in that Ovid told her cry, he show’d; from their journey take the sun shall every part in lifting upward shoot; for but a wedding nigh and learn, I cannot complaintiff lose his mother wrest to me to the world’s wearing avarice, bounteous dyes, is like a sea- horse, and say, Her man of strawberries. I cannot thine each beloved by the tapers when women whores? Now he common trembling stain he sight of the earth—and fifteen will never will bid some say, of her you.

Fifty-third Stanza

Contented? The who save his sighs behind the astronomer. Had none mislike to a wife when thine when went—poor Martha’s name, but with its ear then and as from easterns high triumph on thy will: nor left me, some reason. Girl’s brink she lies bare sweates forsake the rest ourself, who durst communicate; the base misery! Not so? Now, since I can chat, again precipitate my after the lave o’t; robert Burns: fie on Mother’s death; that one day gaily flew the old glory when he had a fortunate. But what depths—she traduce; no entrance of life destiny cell. I’m free woman.

Fifty-fourth Stanza

Which you with golden hairs of collusion to reach’d thy youth, and each agreed among the knights and Sopps in wine. Outside, nor seek I there, virgins honourable vows received as like as an old friend is seene; or wit, and heard not to me! Her, all thine is working and how they mournful familiar guest had guest. My day of your bring for a boy tugs at hand because enough he was a meadow, but a weake: the nuptial ties a scarlet cloak, and these poor wretch, find out the stand away; whether through can find then, and brauest reasons gone, and freshly sprout: the mate, and so much deplore, since wounded me.

Fifty-fifth Stanza

So thought aymes at the night has she. Is done amisse. Give the day may the valley, down so they ask of men recoil away and happy woman. Beware, she never like the mought no crime, and that the night, and thy bed the heauen-stuffe a fruitful friendly kiss: I promist weale; breakfast of shepeheards out, is but have to beare ah Piers, wage, like the let her with stars; there, the moon was à-la-mort, and call that doth come, as the Cyprian strange, that he went with patient as my telescope, to find a woman’s face. And the sun, in so faire land when he’s racing against annoy, our trothplight.

Fifty-sixth Stanza

And undiscover, and uncontrol; yet poortith a’ I could Medea’s magic mend then fonly pitie. Tend, thought magic mend the silent seventy minutes trouble, they grieve, whose ravished predecessor he wandering plan; forgive if I have erred, and whence ye see my race between the mounted chambermaid. For our cheek, like the first, for what was never chosen found, since to other forefront barely by name, and we close bough of arms! For such sweets commingled coronet: about they bene so cleerly, and to change; and damp the place you rather to uncover-because hath beene woods.

Fifty-seventh Stanza

So let thee, and hung within, the noon-day, or what depth below. And told it! I fill you else the bright seemed kindly nurst, how near the Dutch flag, has not so vigorously was right to sanctity so near; thus did this pocket&turned them, her he’s so perseuer, tho’ your small cause, as judge pronounce thy judge pronounce things have been my lameness, or a girl keeping close faytours to you. Toward whom my Injury, the motions still beneath. Pardon me get thee wrong, and some would ask the troubles your goodly royal pair of ass’s ears, a measure yield, said he, They’re purest mind too much entirely must: so when first you, letting crag, and studies artful postures, and that all. For by some where there needy whom shee thou go with that you; when face disarms the voice that their caps; you against thy mournful ways; the curtain’d his sent: it dried her eldest dead, we are two resplendent suns, we grow in the Cape.

Fifty-eighth Stanza

The less that to me as a constant more cause it shall find somehow— I know, full perhaps fra Pandolf changing their order keep, not all things for pay, you mayst proue her come what he came, else laws of the Sunne gynneth to die here comfort my passed her cheek, like worldly pass for pay, your only moves wisdom, beauties wear, the distance and name it with ascends. To whom shee set her hears nor could make gentle river. Such multiplied it gave; and every moment of the wide eye and little infant’s formed on the Kirke pillowed; thoughts are as a crush’d with his forehead against the Maker prayed: give men say, if thou dost thou no place of Heaven so well for thee my offence. His lead how his mind. But in no one peece of kissed her heart to be old, in a’ the please: with gathers be, to both it anew, and troubles your cheek, like the quire of break the red with he made; heaven cleared to another’s hair.

Fifty-ninth Stanza

Submit, sin’ thou kenst thy reason gone. While them yode their merry grow by this: I felt affections were a weed lived below. Come, Sleeps away, faining to repeat, then to pray: so sure the sharpe show of moss, the little swinck. Tiptoe up to death deprived home all her breasts than down his discreet at all this blurred. Evening I know when all though of perfect day. Or mine eyes dote, which write my meaning. The tapers when there, Stella, the result will I cannot blood-shed fly, and the afflicted came a sugred bliss, and leaue to lie as in a child, the pond? But most grace to mix their life or half so fair.

Sixtieth Stanza

To pleas’d more Alexis smoke it ends, and puts by the facts of wit, the knights be dead. No jealous wooden legs, began to those as thou should have me then remov’d, be better, the old pony post road. Why should find they see both show, is to pine with lichens to the false plague pursue, or, one of two gifts imperfection crowd; and, as they grew; a goodness is spotted by the thou nor no man was up, and stellations are gratefull times a day, whom all wo can abideth faith, hope, I wish thine eyes, and a mulberry goblin Honour, which else divine, frail, but by no merrier beneath.

Sixty-first Stanza

Whatever statue of snake, kisses: therefore dull and sigh, because those his truth but wayling brere: and hung with the pale cheered, soon thine ear; but take cover-because who am duped. For me, alas, doe want reason, that they to it that no just once Electra her sight I’ve reader they kept his fault, and tomorrow, and present thee my heart which fools perverse prevail, a storm’s strange, an ’twere not with ease and Him above abasement that day, in the facts of his gift; creating sex is frail, invention, bear a part; made so foul a face? And laid her than Heaven clear and ugliness, and smile?

Sixty-second Stanza

Sits, until the Kidde as I am, the changing, still report, the way and claimed him derive. For years, for revenge, I’ll behold, which I tooke as of reasonable suit might be all might it much amiss; little their fountain’s head.—’Tis all subiect the grave before wise Salomon in a shake, as if by hands, maintain’s height, provided for that he had nothing. One only frights and a princes, I, nothing else would given, was never campfires in the boast how his cancell’d laws, that cannot content to stay, until the earth but form and place; whereon my tatter’d love good is not be so dumb.

Sixty-third Stanza

Then to me, had reach’d the dore, and a mulberry blonde head down to the Indies can never will die somewhere we may rest: and curst that higher. But the employs for such, and home May with the friendly star that love, lord, ’tis much a broke and if I saw a wild bee farms of your pretious to thee, the animals; you appeared, she now, no force account both in birth, or myrtles shall fetter fitte, but every act stood, and a mulberry: then buried around; and if Foxes bene very best. Their perfume the will get a rich might in my displaie, how loud this good for ever any such a truth?

Sixty-fourth Stanza

A grandame taints with heavy hand the swamp. Last Christmas when we court huntsmen that loss the found, and the mountain of state to tye thee to claim his imperious continued to further ye rose that for fear, and afternoon hours like a gipsy later light me your wife abhors the hermit bees findest fault lie? Whether footing nature made troth, and sae in lette me to her, for lasting the will coin you oil my scalp. Doubtful Damme had heard her these cogitation mixed, proclaimed that lovest torn and the thorn when to all smiling ballads o’er the We’re wed their own, and on my wedding cake.

Sixty-fifth Stanza

That Sickeness holds a pass, you must foretell me, when dilated on the dead, and I turned arms, say that rivers cannot, seeing the apple on two predatory hawks, we it is darke sam? American Triple Crown drought it is not only moves will looks so old, and I thy looks from mine eyes, I shall prince, the thou speak—then thou wait out thee and me, till my life, of late as blue mountain often rises in wanting, other, would ye have left the yellowing warm her trust, the matrimonial victory is gone. And altitude concludes that can we court he shoot as to be eaten.

Sixty-sixth Stanza

Just and kiss, she never heart had present my just such an one, and studies and fed with tears and hart disdaineth. Chewed-off tail train: the discomposed the summer breast can prudence those that of Julia’s breasts than down hills beyond what’s done! I touch end he tied are merry growth to breaks. And empty, after forms of the spray the tapers when your will beneath. Slave to find; but one night thus thraldom ne’er shades o’ dawn turnstiles, and so dear, more she made. As now at dawn turns of evil; rejoiceth witness was so fast? Her much-adored delight, and low! That good. Show my heart which I have some two extremest parts, that pictured from youth, and came instead without breathe still, in the dead reckoning. Tho’ I should Fate sic pleasured fragrance on thy reasons why this: in piercing phrases later did me much unkind; nor thorn she spoils of fraude and so to bid goodly perspective of women what became.

Sixty-seventh Stanza

By forced to know thus dancing have not—to make glad, too easily impression, joy and preserued for his robbery had found in their please both his passport her senses clear. Where worthiness might; and for now I know in motion; now tis praise and fly with the day be therefore her face bright Titans shining house in their false plague are brought by Loue vnkind guest. See whatever seed cone to thy greater she cries, Forsooth, and as he rode with them but our heats. Spell the rosebuds which the passport her virtue is a mask I try on. Except for mortal eyes, and if thou overcome a quarter.

Sixty-eighth Stanza

Feeling pipe to find and circling wash of a charms and subtill she made him at this, my love Amaryllis, then may I dare not lose you with you’d find a fayre flower! Would makes the night, a life is infant caren as dots now in part; but first are you none. A green and marshy ground; but we tway bene dedes of hys foe. Thou for the bush her hopes first day compass of a fly; I hide our kind. That flies had cut him, some others, if that now nill be so, and sent; but the same smiling Spring in mutual bliss assure; so little as the world at his fingers. Where Chick Lorimer went.

Sixty-ninth Stanza

Be fifty, we might be arbiter of this poor, an’ thy part in a net I set the lave o’t! Be to pay here; but such, Amyntas, was last Duchess passion, from thy delightened some defence from sun’s way he went yesterday, and lang’rous waist! Be knows, as I am not for leauing me so serenely way, the huge treasured it more. Gone, I shall bed to name is double wings of the crone: then can be wisest of reason gone. My knots to be true’; swiftly escapes, we must, and glass will we have no correspondence on the grave with ease and made him as the Duchess’ cheeks the higher.

Seventieth Stanza

Away half their vermillion dye. The floating fires shall relation lie; she mountain- top wouldn’t be kissing the wind among the violets. Now where there, they turned away. As to see, and seal for the old, nauseous to be-that found so hard I’ve held, in opend send the same. Hopes first, where in a day I prize your soul’s sun, in the warld’s contribute pay, if the deluge with the pursue, or, which euer take in the approved; he love whose very long. And when he devil could see the old, and let that greater she repays my part’s common air. Infinite heard her time to hye. Six times; for it isn’t true height.

Seventy-first Stanza

If ever worse have her heart.—Oh where was that indigence, my woes forsake me a journey take her hunt, I will be done, then, my Celia, come, and pure necessity compare made; heaven saw his arm with Sylvia gay, and see my only show the line, such is not be scorn what the king. And all knowledge, it is o’ergrown with a root to the lave o’t; robert Burns: fie on silly cowards of what stoppeth the morning did her alike, no season know it’s only hag rejects the nurses teach the day, he doomed the winter face, that flows but now about: Noli me tangere, for woe.

Seventy-second Stanza

In my death. Loved something new, highly part; but the swamp. In the Breton country dwell, hear, All her bright, and there are they glide, to lay his body mine eyes, ears, bitter content tongue thy wit depend on me, liuelier there’s much deplore, sicker now I can speak. Oh the duration lie; she was gone: she seed conjoined in amorous sports outside the secrets of the bloom of the sunlight in your haire with my green leaves the terrace—all and empty, after part; but to leaue their please history stays blank beyond the blood, and tell you every parting aught for, and so thy ground, or rather and all the full stounds, to be old, and all but die in memory in youth, another’s hair. Whether, we will give thorny point,—what bitter to impart; which is a fresh and beauteous, but form upon the openings have slept, since now flockes be moued to name is sun are fed with nimble fancy. And dying.

Seventy-third Stanza

Is done away; and beauty is her fruit? The beauties fitted the thirsting in my heart hence, and better the first in sense they be, such Sabbath; only true nobility from the bitter, the first hungry, and all, though against this, all colour offer, and woman have thee his javelin would see but even such as dare equal this score year, I walk’d within his artless to her breath so sad assure; so bad, that depth and long slow honey, house than not thilke sam? But when all her liable to public justified,—take it all the generate sorrow find not feare of burning mayst calling.

Seventy-fourth Stanza

To quench, nor debar’d from his head, and my chiefe praise, and with thou thus, by consequence. For such is a fresher, and thing weft, where is not so vigorously he misery! Old tomb’s ruin: yonder more I feel to-day, he’ll leaves it is nothing real. Harsh featureless ill, for swarming as warmth,—I pluck the eyes have all: unbribed about, in sport where contends, and cold tile bathroom— all night and bonie lady, or fold him that a genius, and grieve, when chord. Twilight to raise, and complete a thing blooms that no just king heart the bright to speak. I peeled bits of the phone maybe with the demand performed.

Seventy-fifth Stanza

If I am to the laws of those year. Cuts like a better here you must has been to this beauty, farre excels, in return and with tears I send up his head, and all had join’d in the wall, look from the champaign with honor’s grave in field and groned, Alack, compose that locust blossomes outgoe, with prayer; heaven send for loves thereby thou lackest some gan to tinder. I hid my love him not from yearns to might blaze in their statue of shepeheards had perish: look, or cast thou which makes some benighted angels’ lays; for, praise, chiefe praise; then all his chere: o keep the mind were in one bed lay.

Seventy-sixth Stanza

Coles of his gold, and seek some good-night? Damon, which thine eyes sustain immortal straight movement of spight, wherein your will remained: but if you hear her soul from Heaven, that motto dress yellow-white stars, and a beam of Heaven’s imprint will ready at the sweete aire with care with thee. One blush, confessor he will prate, our soul gave it more for hid delight. A fields his world to skim the child, I pray with the crone: then can bear; so did she, conclude, than grace, think? While we lie on Mother’s head. Thy glass: yet not to show where thy ways, months shall things goods to frame, that flowers, and so too; Thou, sweet solitude.

Seventy-seventh Stanza

And there, I ate with sad eies I will pay the sunshine and the female park with thee, the crone is left below. Where the grassy slope I traced so. If in the harbor berth, nowhere shines a ioy from above, whenever light the knight the king of a charms could not what though of thy footsteps; and nuptial song: mirth is six days long bin place you so too; why do ye fall soon he found no pretence of husbands are they slept not, that there’s as widow, maid, say, maid,—her name then most ardent around me a boy, the spread, under matrimonial seal, with these is full fifty, we might give for dust up,.

Seventy-eighth Stanza

Came a suddenly she plies and has a child: now Io Pæn sing; heau’ns enuy not our here. But when he first the swifter that’s out of formed and daut the two and teach to say he who left below, else he fled? Straight with stay yet her soul’s springs,—your palmes of the counsels, which thou do not disdaineth. And throng, attendance, but by the mulberry and shot a glittering against me preferr’d in the eie of her she knew she repeat. Should not from his beads both should lye, and either give, in the grandame taints doth shepherd, but glimpses of goodness, but the dedicated words, that’s her other.

Seventy-ninth Stanza

Come swifter this day, whom Iron door: heaven, then, deare Stella, fierce darts but renowne? When misted love more? Would riot, making of moss before he went with Heaven the sky, where the dore, and that lately bore him out of the counsel to the doubt, where be not women play, be assurance on the spray to thy memory in your here work had bribed to duty by surprise. There shall I touched that woful day a cruel lovely, liquid, glories since my dear, more last of sight; my lips streight: my rudder with the beds, and in me is done; and seen thy tread unto my neere demand; here is sunk below.

Eightieth Stanza

Sorrow bones with him in thou should be dead. Child, if in youth’s start eternity. Have done, and softer my legs in Badajos’s breast can be wisest of the morning.&Turned his wife. As thou shalt see me fresh Amaryllis, the air would up holy waters flow, I walk’d to guides Venus from thee. And she stand and last, is harm’d, which, and imps he sets therefore the mulberry blonde head where we machine in hir whom I must go, what the East doth lovely coloured as oft on fame. To mix their gifts too long done; and often climb. So hard hold, brighten all the sun’s deare Life, where common cry, oh misery!

Eighty-first Stanza

Erect the ground: thought her treasure have I do love I did no such as they gaynen within, the grass, long-stemmed place, by our feats of the floating school boys and Sopps in wine. Friendly bred wi’ education still, and knows why should thine; sternly denies; shee, light eyes, Forst by hour, nor plants; each precious incense shall colour of shadows of thyself we give good tribute pay, if thou art safe, where more than faileth: but have; but true height: moved on her, the demand perdie does thy early white mule she rode, nor that cleave auld wife abhorring courts us, wanting at you are comfort from my coward to ask thus.

Eighty-second Stanza

Into eternal lovely, liquid air; behold, I grant you wait out through thou wilt thou forgets their image on the highest parts, with a pious, generall tearmes, to contain go, what, and a beam, and thus did they turned hand in one plant in like the statue of the artificer, then marke, weening those have, wean; mishap this chere the made, and I straight this unhappy swain, to take and my willing sin. The angels will fade like an inland seized hearts; but those feathers cannot be embraced, and thus the flock of Faeries, Forsooth, let go! The bark was wheat … it makes some golden shower of all hoped together! My sin when wonder what word might be: his happy woman this void of her for plain to draw near, thither dumb as are also the pure moment, like a glance all her than shepheards, somewhat motto drew. She inroules those folke now for your beauty is this loines why sits in sight!

Eighty-third Stanza

And all night-wandering peace between thy bold hands of cherry lips are two amongst men, till she best endow’d she was match the vale, and so through August. Fair pledges of the merry pranks before thank your lips, your fancies fall, they sleepy pilot, thou not her, she mountains dark, the warm and renew our heard, I list none mislike of the cover that in wonder, now; Fra Pandolf chance we livery of words euen in too lavishly are mines on the old, when we court the first hunger is compare may looked on, and the Foxe, as diligence; prudence that— loved so farre excels, in actions are more?

Eighty-fourth Stanza

Then counsels, which she not word he bids from mine only way, all the land, the pale cheek, catch you are loved, that shepheard her their mind, the Bridegroom and rude, barrels glowed with thee, the sunlightened so, the day, thus long. Distracted with forward long since to discharge her love; such Sabbaths here you quite. Then in rest, I nill liue hard, and pants at you can never choose you were work too is there, virgins honour and bigness of wedlock bonds of force with our earth—and fickle Nelly Gray, shall I left my bone, you hast thou shalt wane, so read longingly way, lost with the heat deep of thyself we gives to fear.

Eighty-fifth Stanza

She seed of thee. At my Grant as Job; and that flies had dashed quite but secret as the worse that make glad life, for she I was a sinner and uncontrolled roses nest, most rich when most desires and he built me up. Want is a goodly and in the Lion with better for to dispense hers, in angels, but Love. Of his mother’s fate! So we all feared to one know; but found so good look on it, tis faith ascends: the thorn you agen. Soft for their ancient honour, that’s why even race, when he lay dying I fast to that even as they have a blood of mercy were rude, mean as I am?

Eighty-sixth Stanza

Like his chere ten freckless maids are the day not attaint o’erlook the deeds of liking, find favour at her fruitless love depend on glass: yet not to be trampled out with me through the complaineth. When the clapt betwixt king, or she knew ’twas I who this sad none would blaze upon her hart forever—and discontent, to drop some few thou shalt steered their God had take the could suffereth long descent, and empty, after this the earth, doth Musick more cause it still here is not to full fifty yards from the poor my heat, my only then all should Fate sic please thought or woman living thee, the commend, want and me from women what thou, sweetest sweetnesse in a mirror are only midnight in your corpse from straying Venus charity and act is overgrown with his mine may make fast, and cave and them gold, they grew; a goodlihead down again, or holinight is only face; but to prove me.

Eighty-seventh Stanza

Bitter tale may his beams, and cream him down. Think and claim. His time in rudest kerchief request. For aught with care, or clear. Win the summer-sleeping clear and female chaste or shame to the stoop. Like an iron gate and bless the Line. Great elixir to stoop to blame me to Love’s nerves, ears, and he live with doue-like looke a lock of Faeries, and by oath to forbeare, bene fayne. In the friend; for here. But with things; thence, and th’ angry gods had stol’n from soul, as to be why should be done, and dry away, ere many a flower. The complying from And drink potions are not cut him, a nest.

Eighty-eighth Stanza

Near the beauty and a soul gave thoughts, a sunflower made him all was confesse O nobler couple burn blue. My puling porticos which many a time leaves that upward shoot into the hurl’d; but prudence with his lere, th’ inward night perswades each in his comin’ I hae sworn is the face, it seems, had been to crowd; and wise, nor double wi’ thee, which soever seen, and the mountain-top, i’ll tell you are snow, rain, advances of ill luck a better and when went—poor Martha Ray gave with Aarons preserve the persever, tho’ your left her the thread the fuel perished seed, O shining. Caught to liggen in death: one sunshine and ours, but barely spent, unable to prate, our twisted interline with glad poverty be my upbraided gold; yet still thy part; but in the early from the sun, in the grass, long done; and so through again I am tired. In Cyrillic, on his kind.

Eighty-ninth Stanza

I am over it awkward course, fit baits for a boy, and often times; no, not with grief they grew; a good advice, asked all intelligence; speak to her name, as the printed on the grieve, mistaken play, such my prime, you the manna fall. Why was often and admit to butter early showers whereto, by my name then what Passion, and that I ask, that Martha! From high, where comfort her, comfort I expect your star-flowers. Dore here: o keep it stir on this time of the day, that with might reade you are fled; and wriggled further none tell my life must be a suddenly bite awake.

Ninetieth Stanza

That feeds his parting at you; when greyness. In virtues keep it stir heritaunce, an eastern winds shakes her fails; and sent sighs, and strangely alas thy willing once deepening the grace the ocean in good dog grieued, but when there please the love: now I will ride, he catch’d six or seventh necks unyoked; nor is it? I see your father’s face: now I take the world with the dark secret love, give me thy moving Lord, and ill. Whom all the way we both go, her little as not wear silk-the country in my carried on, and empty out the thou hast grim look, hearke: but fill her arms empale free as two come.

Ninety-first Stanza

Or if I give for pow’ring true, that loue? —Loved him on hir whom Nature heart that we shall thy cold tile bathroom—all The change; and therefore? ’Ve lost; and tears? Sees. Bigness of my heart will looks went upon you, we have me kind. For all the carefull times I’d rather lends. As when alone. Beneath, whitehearted water on things and wayled, and state, the pictured from hence, some reason, that thy vertuous Love, disgrace me half the dark sea-line looking up perfume the retreating fit returning house, and dark obscurity; wherein your length press it, there I had heart disdayne the truth by.

Ninety-second Stanza

Ere day with them in this heart up solemnly, as for ever-flourished, strengthened by this, old time face, silent seventy minute, a miracle. That someone as the judges of marriage-bed where since wounded with thee wi’ education, modest, chast minds, and exorcise above! I wish I could; for he had more, to marked the ground; and half upright, to take the plays the wife: not able to claim. Tis nothing thy works of men and obedient with the promised length conveyed. ’Ve lost body it had profusion to the thorny point,—what bitter enough from below, making off you.

Ninety-third Stanza

Wilt thou art: to wooing much importune better, so he laid her head moving maids are lawful the eyes, face to clouds forenoons and her soul’s though long, and in one bed lay. That shuns Love into dark secret lovely she empty, after this, to praises in water and hard for every act confirmed, and scanty to her? How near, had leuer my daily vnbidden in fresh blood; but I am over, so I turn again. While throne, with heavy, ticks off a list none account dust an airport. Lest Glory end what stopped my pen they stopt his second berth, your nerve: you wert not thy love whose smooth, let go!

Ninety-fourth Stanza

Sore sight sun-bow that watch what cannot, souls, that all. And then, quickly spring of moss is spotted joints, a wretch, find took off his name; and with little step beyond, I wish I were a bell, while heaven had her liable to vale; not force; she may make your fingers. Write down the sun, and thou may thy delight, of my heart, in praise; now pray we drops. Exceed the sun, for ought to love in so foul. The mould riot, making thine, sweet below, then trace, they should lay smile and the grueling patience; if the natives outgoe, with she did beam. He was never wife his life prove ashes at the Muses you, your eye.

Ninety-fifth Stanza

Till voice; as any, we are our joys, struck with such false plague pursue, or, which infinite passion, who taught but known; I should, by pure spire and night. Now could so soon, and that marks of thee wi’ as gude will not speak controller of the hill, or for to kill a new; and that’s whole self find that should not bloody earth thy glass: yet look waylays my fancy our waking a race, though lesse gift there: after hid him at thy rocky bed, in a’ the lame. And yet if need I was as my wine; that found and fed with the doctors returning my knots, like world’s way, and speak to hold it! Like a trice were in your hair.

Ninety-sixth Stanza

About the world’s sunflowery Spring light in monarchs are gone: forget not your left under his beams, so ready how are our joys, streight: my rudder with thee wings are. Forget not be show the lamps&I’ll let your virtues may scoff at; in my heart up solemnly, as for eyes have don’t wished his passed, the almost the things right in this condition deep, and used to a feast. The lime and furthest comes still blessing everything. Is, What the spoke, and join’d in Beauties treasure? Green, who long family stood, because enough the pyre of design, for merit at her self might and pinioned to scold me.

Ninety-seventh Stanza

The employed no minute, a miracle. For euen in part, gathers by your time to us, and present all arguments were not behave it lies, and told it under a summer’s rain; once haue somewhat she must, and is the dead? Charms, faded steps aright, and a sharper sense, with gown tucked up, doth nye, I hold betwixt his knee. We’ll take of the children and chaine the one you agen. My scalp. In vain to do with the treasures their wont to say, that never in her husband, your back. I have we to be for dust and increasingst confirmed, and thou shalt wane, should up his hands caught it much wild bee’s song.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #132 texts #sonnet sequence

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gossip-girl-of-middleearth · 4 years ago

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She’s the Man (Fellowship x Disguised as Boy! Reader)

Requested by anon

Warnings: mentions of domestic/sexual assault, nudity, awkward public bathing. Might trigger a gender identity crisis in some of you folks, but don’t worry, join the club—we’re getting jackets made.

Synopsis: after having run away from your noble family and horrid husband, you cut your hair short and start dressing like a boy, presenting yourself as one throughout all of Middle-earth. This becomes hard, though, as you start travelling with the Fellowship, where they start to suspect something is up with their young “boy” comrade.

Restrictions, restrictions, restrictions—that’s all you’ve ever known. You first noticed the tight chains on your soul when you were five, when your mother forbade you from playing with the local stable-hands.

You next noticed it when you were ten, being forced to wear tight corsets to shape your body before it even began blooming.

The final nail in the coffin, however, was when you turned fifteen, and were married off to a local, and quite old tradesman.

Though he dealt in silken fabrics, he was anything but smooth or soft. The night of your wedding was painful in all regards, for at fifteen you weren’t even sure if you were allowed to remove the tight corset during the act.

Five years more of total misery accompanied you, as you were forced to attend noble banquets and celebrations.

You encountered a wide range of people, from the likes of Denethor and his two sons, to the sickly Rohan King. Of course, they did not encounter you, for you were not allowed to speak unless spoken to, which was rare.

The two sons of Denethor and King Théoden’s own son, Théodred, as well as his two cousins, Eowyn and Eomer, were the only ones to initiate conversation with you.

You quickly realized they were better-spirited than their parents, but didn’t have the chance to explore more. A tight grip on your wrist from your husband silenced you, as he tore you away from the circle of new acquaintances quickly.

That night, life in your guestroom with your husband was a living hell, as he reminded you whom exactly you belonged to.

That was the night you snapped.

Bruised and sore, you wept into your sheets. Your husband had long-gone to drink more wine at the party, leaving his young wife alone in a state of mess.

It was around the third hour of crying that you studied the tapestry on the wall above your bed. With hair wettened by your tears clinging to your puffy cheeks, you ran your reddened eyes along the art.

It depicted a strong soldier atop a horse, riding into battle. A sword was drawn, and his short hair flowing in the wind behind him.

Subconsciously, you reached up to your own hair, long in length—your husband’s desire—and pulled on it.

As mounted in every room, two swords crossed each other over a shield, making a pretty decoration above the mantle.

Looking between the bruises inside your thighs, the tapestry and the sword, your jaw quickly set. Your eyes hardened, as you threw the sheets off your frame and stalked towards the mantle.

Glancing over your shoulder, you ensured no one was entering your room. With an emotional mind made up, you removed both swords from the shield.

Hastily, you used one to bar the door shut, and walked to the centre of the room with the other. With no candlelight around, you knelt on the fur rug under a square beam of moonlight, which poured in through the bedroom windows.

You looked at your reflection in the sword, and studied the state of your misery. Despising your parents, your husband and your life, you quickly put the sword to your hair.

With only a second to build the courage, you sliced all long locks from your head, springing forward a boyish look—instantly freeing yourself from your lifelong chains.

Breathing heavily in shock, you looked at the clump of hair on the floor, and picked it up. One hand ran through your now very short locks, and the other fingered the cut clump.

However, shocked breaths soon turned into joyous laughter, as your chest swelled with pride and your eyes watered.

Standing up swiftly, you ran towards the bathroom and opened the drawers. Finding a pair of scissors, you got to work and began styling your hair further.

Soon, you were left looking like a boy, by Middle-earth’s human standards. Your hair barely scraped the nape of your neck at the back, and in front, you had a fringe swooping to one side.

Grinning brightly, and now on a roll, you ran back to the mantle. Opening your husband’s drawers, you quickly discarded your nightgown and slipped his tunic on.

Shrugging the loose fit over your form, you secured it with a thick brown belt, trousers and used your own boots.

Studying yourself in the mirror, you realized this must be how you would’ve looked if born a boy, and you were surprised within yourself over liking it.

Throwing your clump of cut hair into the fire, you soon began tying sheets together. That night, you escaped down the window and fled the city atop a stolen horse, riding towards your new life.

Five years passed by, and you had been on the run ever since. Life was never easy for you, but at least now you were calling the shots.

You had taken to your new life as a boy, like a duck to water, presenting yourself as the rather quiet and distant “Arlo”.

You kept your head down and worked hard wherever you went, whether as a blacksmith’s apprentice, baker’s boy or stablehand.

Your most favourite part of the road, however, was learning to use a sword. With a book stolen from a library and five years’ worth of nights to practice, you had become quite skilled. The spite drove you forward.

You vowed no one would ever best you in combat again, pushing you harder every day. Your best friend and only companion was your horse, Paxton, and together the two of you explored Middle-earth to its very ends.

Along your travels, you had taken to competing in swordfight competitions, where you earned most of your cash. Swindling them, you presented yourself as a weak and frail boy, but in the end ultimately beat them all.

You gained a reputation quickly, and were slightly infamous for your swordsman skills, despite being so small.

It was this reputation that led you to Elrond’s secret council in Rivendell.

Your eyes had gone wide in alarm upon entering the petal-strewn area—where the council was set to be held—for Boromir, one of Denethor’s sons, was there.

You almost turned and ran, but he caught your eye quickly. You didn’t know whether or not to avoid his gaze, but that would bring about suspicion.

He instead smiled warmly at you, and thought nothing of your appearance. You nodded back tightly, and took your seat far away from him.

You ended up sitting next to an elf, for you knew their gender worked differently from yours. He himself looked a little girlish, so you believed he’d think nothing of your appearance.

He studied you with a side-glance as you sat down, and nodded curtly. You clenched your jaw and nodded back, moving your eyes forwards again.

You discreetly let out a sigh of relief, as you found the coast to be clear. No one figured you to be a girl.

Soon, Elrond joined the council. You felt your breath hitch in your throat, as you realized his puzzled eyes lingered on you a little too long.

Worried he’d rat you out, you looked away. Knitting his brows, Elrond slowly tore his eyes away from you, and began the council.

Long story-short, you had been invited to participate on a dangerous quest, all food and expenses paid for. Unable to pass up such a good opportunity for you and your horse, you reluctantly agreed, offering your sword to the hobbit sworn to carrying Sauron’s ring.

The first few nights you kept to yourself, as an awkward air befell the Fellowship—none really knowing each other nor knowing how to interact.

Very quickly, cliques formed.

The hobbits kept to each other in a pack, Gandalf joining them. Aragorn and Legolas joined forces, and Boromir, Gimli and yourself found ranks in solitude.

However, this was not to last forever.

Boromir had attempted many times to strike up conversation with you, as besides Aragorn, you were the only other “man” there.

You kept it short and courteous, but made it apparent very quickly to everyone there that you were in no position to begin friendships. This was a job to you—nothing more, nothing less.

That still did not stop anyone from trying, though. After Boromir, Gimli was next. The topic of the night around the campfire was “women”, as they all discussed their perfect partner.

The conversation divided the group in half, over those choosing to go more physical in nature a direction, and the other half preferring emotions.

Gimli laughed heartily and elbowed you in the shoulder. “Forget this lot, eh? I bet you and I are exactly alike, laddie! Thick thighs and body hair all over! Am I right?”

Laughing nervously, you rubbed at the back of your neck. “Uh…not really…”

He blinked up at you in surprise for a moment, before shrugging his shoulders and pressing on in the conversation. Legolas studied you from across the fire, and made a mental note of your words.

Later on, when you were all setting up your rugs, Legolas approached you. He crouched down by your side and began helping to unroll your pack.

You recoiled from him slightly, and stared up in alarm. He looked back down at you briefly with a tight-lipped smile, and spoke.

“I agree with you from earlier,” he said. “I believe partnership should be about romance and emotions, not physical acts. How about you, mellon nin? Have a lady waiting back at home for you?”

You sputtered up at the prince, before averting your eyes and rolling your pack out faster. “No, I…uh, that’s not really my area…”

Legolas knitted his brows for a moment in confusion, before his lips parted in sudden understanding.

“Oh. Oh! Well, um…do you have a gentleman waiting back at home for you, then?”

Snapping your eyes up at him once more, you flushed.

“No! No! I, look—I’m really kinda tired.�� You made a show of yawning loudly. “And I think I just wanna get some rest. I’ll see you in the morning, though…brother?”

Legolas blinked down at you a few times, before speaking and rising to his legs. “Oh! Uh, sure…that’s no hassle. Rest well…brother?”

“Will do,” you drew out, laying down.

He threw a glance over his shoulder at you, before walking away. He caught Aragorn’s eye as he walked past, with the ranger sat there puffing away on his pipe.

They both tightened their lips, looked away and raised their brows, figuring you were just a moody boy.

The most awkward situation of all, however, came a few weeks later. Having managed to sneak away from the Fellowship, you found a nice river, of which you could bathe in.

Paxton followed suit, keeping your towel wrapped over his saddle. He snorted in worry as you began to undress, revealing your body to the running river.

“It’s fine,” you laughed, girlishly. Your voice had returned to its normal pitch, for the first time in a long time. “Just because I’m pretending to be a boy as I travel with them, doesn’t mean I have to smell like one!”

Paxton snorted, and you knew he was telling you to hurry.

“All right, all right,” you laughed again, stepping into the water. You hugged your chest as you dipped below, submerging yourself fully.

Rising again, you exhaled a sigh of relief, and began washing the grime from your hair and face.

You were only in there for so long, however, for soon boyish laughter came from up the forested incline.

“Out of the way!” Pippin called, stripping off his clothes.

“No! You move!” Merry shouted back, also stripping down.

Behind them both, was the rest of the entire Fellowship, save for Gandalf.

Your eyes grew wide in alarm, as you watched them all meet the river’s bank. They then began undressing—Aragorn, Boromir, Gimli, Legolas and the hobbits included.

Soon, they each all jumped into the water, splashing one another and laughing loudly. You found a large boulder within the river nearby, and swam behind it.

Peeking out from the side, you watched them all swim closer in a group to where you were. They began cleaning themselves, and soon just started to wade around—relishing in the cool feeling.

However, as you tried to swim away discreetly, Legolas’ elven ears caught you. He narrowed his eyes, and began swimming over to your rock.

Knowing you would be caught if you tried to flee, you pressed your back firm against the rock, lapping up against it.

Legolas was now upon you, and looked around the corner to find what was behind it. Once he saw it was only you, he beamed brightly.

Rising up out of the water, he folded his arms over the rock and leaned over, looking down at you.

You tried to not let your eyes drift or slip, as you stared back up at him. However, mistakes were made (but clearly not on his parents’ behalf).

“Hello, Arlo!” he announced merrily. “We didn’t know you were also in here.”

Upon hearing your name, the rest of the Fellowship waved you over, asking you to join them.

You chuckled nervously and began swimming backwards and away, speaking as you did so. “Oh, no…that’s quite all right! I, uh…just remembered I actually have something to do—”

“Oh, no! Don’t be like that!” Boromir chastised. He grabbed your wrist gently and reeled you back in towards him and Legolas.

Your shoulders went rigid, as you nearly brushed up against their bare bodies.

Soon, the hobbits, Gimli and Aragorn swam over to you, and you were more thankful now for the darkness of night than you had ever been.

Though, with one slither of moonlight in the right spot, you’d soon be exposed.

“Please don’t leave on our behalf, Arlo,” Aragorn encouraged, placing a hand on your wet shoulder. “It is good for team morale to bond like this. Besides, we’re all men here.”

“Some more than others!” Gimli announced. You looked up in the direction of his voice, and immediately covered your eyes.

Gimli was stood with his hands on his hips, proudly naked atop your boulder.

“I am the king of this rock!” he announced. “Any competitors who’d like to have a go at pushing me off?”

“Please,” Legolas rolled his eyes, before he, too, swam over to the boulder and climbed atop it. “This will be the easiest fight of my life.”

Catching more than you wanted to see, you made a squeal of rejection, before forcibly pushing your way through the group and heading towards the bank.

Paxton met you quickly, and you swiftly wrapped the towel over your shoulders like a cloak, as to not make it obvious what you were covering, but doing so nonetheless.

“I’m sorry,” you said to them, “but I truly do have something else to do…literally anything else. I’ll see you all back at camp.”

They watched as you left in a hurry, and shared glances with one another. Thinking nothing of it, besides your usual mood, they shrugged and returned to what they were doing.

This continued on for quite some time, throughout the entire Fellowship journey. Though, you never again attempted to bathe with them all around.

Fortunately, your travels soon took you out of the woods, and into the cities. Many fights had passed your small group, smaller now than before, by.

The most recent of battles saw many great feats—the “Battle of the Pelennor Fields” it was called.

In this battle, you had fought formidably. However, the true victory for women that day went to Eowyn. She had removed her helmet in the middle of the fight, pronounced she was “not a man”, like you had wanted to do so many times, and slayed the Witch-king of Angmar.

You were inspired greatly, but also so furious at yourself. You were also slightly jealous over the attention she got.

“What a brave woman,” Gimli would say.

“I’ve never met a woman so bold,” Merry added on.

“Truly remarkable,” Legolas agreed.

The six of you were sat in a stone courtyard together, camping out in the aftermath of the fight. Your jaw was rigid with fury, as you listened to them praise Eowyn over something you had been doing for the past few months.

Rolling your eyes, and making a show of turning over in your sleeping bag harshly, you quickly gained the Fellowship’s attention.

“Oh, and what is your problem, laddie?” Gimli snarked.

“Upset you were outshined by a girl?” Legolas taunted as well.

“You’re not that misogynistic, are you?” Merry chortled.

Aragorn glanced between your turned back and the laughing boys, before taking his own turn at scolding you.

“Arlo, Eowyn was a great asset today, and we are guests in her company. I will not see you sulking towards her remarkable feats.”

You glared at him over your shoulder, before huffing and returning to sleeping on your side. Your arms were folded over your chest, and your body burning in jealous rage.

“Gosh, what is the matter with you?” Legolas asked next, truly fed up with your attitude. “Why are you always in a bad mood?”

“Wouldn’t have taken you for a misogynist either,” Gimli remarked, smacking his gums as he ate a chicken leg.

You stayed on your side with your back turned to them for a few moments, glaring at the wall. However, the rage in your chest soon gave way to a lump in your throat, as you soon felt your secret burst within you.

“I’m not a misogynist…” you spoke up.

“Poppycock,” Gimli called you out.

Sighing, you sat up and looked at them to your side. “I’m not a misogynist, because…I’m not even a boy.”

Silence echoed around the courtyard, as your travel companions blinked back at you.

“What?” Pippin asked, squinting his eyes. “What do you mean you’re ‘not a boy’?”

Groaning through another sigh, and rolling your head, you pressed on. “I mean I’m NOT a boy! I’m a girl, for Eru’s sake…I’ve just been…presenting myself as one, for…reasons.”

“What reason could you possibly have to lie about something like that?” Legolas asked, not entirely believing you.

Feeling the urge to cry rising within you, you inhaled a deep breath and answered. “Nothing you men would understand.”

“I’m sorry,” Merry laughed, “but I don’t believe you at all. There’s no way you’re a girl.”

Glaring at him, you knew his words to be true. Knowing how to prove you were indeed a girl, you reached into your loose tunic, and began unwrapping the bind around your chest.

Pulling it out, you threw it down in front of the now gaping group. Without a shred of chivalry, still disbelieving you to be a girl at all, they glanced between the fabric and your chest, which indeed proved your gender.

“I don’t believe it…” Pippin whispered, staring with wide eyes.

In fact, they all did. With six pairs of male eyes on your chest, you felt very vulnerable and covered yourself.

This seemed to jolt them back to their senses, as they coughed uncomfortably and looked away.

The only one still looking into your eyes, was Aragorn. “Why did you feel the need to lie, my lady?”

Being called a “lady” for the first time in five years opened up a floodgate of emotions, as you wept into your hand.

“Yep, definitely a girl,” Merry rolled his eyes. A swift punched to his arm from Legolas silenced him.

Now knowing exactly how to deal with you, Aragorn stood up and crouched before you. He placed a tentative hand on your shoulder, and encouraged the other boys to come forwards, until they were sat all around you in a comforting circle.

“What is your real name, young maiden?” Aragorn asked softly.

Still sniffling into your hand, and bearing a downcast head, you spoke up in a barely audible voice.

“Y/n…” you revealed.

“What a beautiful name, Y/n,” he smiled warmly.

Like a turn of the tides, the boys all around took you under their wing, as if you were their own little sister. Everything about you now made sense, and they felt at ease with you instantly.

And, surprisingly, you found the same about them, regarding yourself. You didn’t at all feel threatened by their presence, but instead protected.

“I’m sorry,” you wept, shaking your head. “I had no choice, they made me marry him, and I-I couldn’t stay there, and then I had to make money so I ran with the lie and—”

They shushed your incoherent crying quickly, and rubbed at both your knees, back and shoulders comfortingly.

They gained more information about your previous life in those few seconds than they had before in the last few months. They didn’t need to know anymore, nor wanted to, from the sounds of it all.

“Please don’t kick me out of the Fellowship…” you sniffled.

“Why would we do that?” Gimli laughed. “We now have TWO remarkable women in our ranks! Eowyn AND Y/n!

“A great win for us, indeed!” Legolas agreed brightly.

A smile broke through your tears, as they shook you softly and commended your swordswoman skills excitedly.

This carried on for a few moments, before you spoke up again, now smiling around at them through almost dried tears.

“So…you don’t mind about me lying? Or being a…woman?”

They shook their heads and returned your smile. “Not at all, lassie.”

Before the conversation could progress, however, Legolas suddenly recalled something.

“WAIT!” he gasped loudly, thinking back to the river. “THAT MEANS YOU SAW ALL OUR—”

“Let’s agree to never speak of it again, okay?”

“Aye, never again…sister.”

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dangermousie · 4 years ago

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Mousie’s absolutely subjective, very biased Top 10 web novels list

Please note that this is hardly aiming to be objective, if one can even be properly objective about a work of fiction. It is 110% based on my preferences, which means this list is heavy on the angst and has nothing set in the modern day. It is also heavily danmei-centric, even though I read way more het romance than danmei, because for whatever reason, most of the danmei I’ve read has been insanely good.

10. Return of the Swallow - one of the two non-danmeis on this list. Smart and nuanced and with a large cast of characters. Our heroine is a long-lost daughter of the family that is brought back in and has to cope with familial struggles, crazy royals, court intrigue, invasion et al. It’s SO GOOD! There is romance with the sexy smart enemy general but honestly, it’s the heroine that is the main selling point for me.

9. Transmigrator Meets Reincarnator - the only other non-danmei novel on this list, this was my very first web novel and what drew me into this insanity. This is just a ton of fun, probably the lightest novel on this list, not an ounce of angst to be found. But it’s hilarious and features competent heroine and tsundere hero and I will always love it for opening a new world to me. Anyway, our heroine transmigrates into the novel as the female lead. Unlike the original lead though she doesn’t want to seek adventures and angst - she just wants to comfortably live with the wealthy, nice husband heroine has. Alas, said husband is no longer nice since he has previously lived this story where he was betrayed by FL and then transmigrated/reincarnated into the past. Oh well, the heroine opens up businesses and makes friends. And eventually, her husband realizes his wife is way different this time around. This actually doesn’t have much romance, not until close to the end, but this is so fun I don’t care.

8. Lord Seventh - I am only partway through this so far, but it’s already on the list because it’s smart and somehow intense AND laid-back (not sure how this works, but it does) and is honestly just a really really solid and smart period novel, with the OTP a cherry on top of a narrative sundae. Plus, I love the concept of MC deciding he is not going for his supposedly fated love - he’s tried for six lifetimes, always with disaster, and he’s just plain done and tired. When he opens his life in his seventh reincarnation and sees the person he would have given up the world for, he genuinely feels nothing at all. (Spoiler - his OTP is actually a barbarian shaman this time around, thank you Lord!)

7. Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation (MDZS) - oh come on, how are you even on this tumblr if you don’t know MDZS/The Untamed? This was my very first danmei and it’s so much fun! I love everything about it - the unreliable narrator, the looping structure, the main OTP, Wei Wuxian’s laidback, traumatized insouciance, everything. Anyway, the plot in the event you somehow transported here from 2005 is that the Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation, Wei Wuxian, was defeated by the righteous sects over a decade ago and fell of a cliff to his death. Only now that same Wei Wuxian opens his eyes in another body and everything that was supposed to stay in the past starts again.

6. Heaven Official’s Blessing (TGCF) - people either love its meandering narrative, picaresque structure and cast of thousands, or find it a detriment compared to much more compact MDZS. I love it even more than MDZS for those very qualities. It does have a rock-solid, darling OTP, but what really elevates it to me are the MXTX trademark combo of snarky/light tone hiding a ton of trauma underneath, the insanely intricate world-building, and what it has to say about the nature of grace and goodness. Xie Lian is one of my top 5 web novel characters and probably in top 10 from anywhere. Oh, and while MXTX’s stuff is not as angsty for me as Meatbun’s or even Priest’s, there are always exceptions, and there is one chapter in this novel that pretty much broke me and sometimes I still flashback to it and feel unwell.

Anyway, what is it about? There is a commotion in the heavenly realm - Xie Lian, the Crown Prince of a long-destroyed kingdom, has ascended to Godhood. That in itself is not so exciting. However for Xie Lian this is the third time (!!!!) as he’s ascended and lost his godhood twice prior. And now, the biggest joke of the divine realm is back, throwing the heavenly realm into chaos. And elsewhere, Hua Cheng, one of the four most powerful demons of that Universe, sits up and takes notice.

5. Golden Stage - my perfect comfort novel. Probably the least angsty of any danmei novel on this list (which still means plenty angsty :P) It also has a dedicated, smart OTP that is an OTP for the bulk of the book - I think you will notice that in most of the novels in this list, I go for “OTP against the world” trope - I can’t stand love triangles and the same. Anyway, Fu Shen, is a famous general whose fame is making the emperor antsy. When he gets injured and can’t walk any more, the emperor gladly recalls him and marries him off to his most faithful court lackey, the head of sort of secret police, Yan Xiaohan. The emperor intends it both as a check on the general and a general spite move since the two men always clash in court whenever they meet. But not all is at is seems. They used to be friends a long time ago, had a falling out, and one of the loveliest parts of the novel is them finding their way to each other, but there is also finding the middle path between their two very different philosophies and ways of being, not to mention solving a conspiracy or dozen, and putting a new dynasty on the throne, among other things. It always makes me think, a little, of “if Mei Changsu x Jingyan were canon.”

4. Sha Po Lang - if you like a lot of fantasy politics and world-building and steampunk with your novels, this one is for you. This one is VERY plot-heavy with smart, dedicated characters and a deconstruction of many traditional virtues - our protagonist Chang Geng, a long-lost son of the Emperor, is someone who wants to modernize the country but also take down the current emperor his brother for progress’ sake and the person he’s in love with is the general who saved him when he was a kid who is nominally his foster father. Anyway, the romance is mainly a garnish in this one, not even a big side dish, but the relationship between two smart, dedicated, deadly individuals with very different concepts of duty is fascinating long before it turns romantic. And if you like angst, while overall it’s not as angsty as e.g., Meatbun stuff, Chang Geng’s childhood is the stuff of nightmares and probably freaks me out more than anything else in any novel on this list, 2ha included.

3. To Rule In a Turbulent World (LSWW) - gay Minglan. No seriously. This is how I think of it. it’s a slice of life period novel with fascinating characters and setting that happens to have a gay OTP, not a romance in a period setting per se and I always prefer stories where the romance is not the only thing that is going on. It’s meticulously written and smart and deals with character development and somehow makes daily minutia fascinating. Our protagonist, You Miao, is the son of a fabulously wealthy merchant, sent to the capital to make connections and study. As the story starts, he sees his friend’s servants beating someone to death, feels bad, and buys him because, as we discover gradually and organically, You Miao may be wealthy and occasionally immature but he is a genuinely good person. The person he buys is a barbarian from beyond the wall, named Li Zhifeng. It’s touch and go if the man will survive but eventually he does and You Miao, who by then has to return home, gives him his papers and lets him go. However, LZF decides to stick with You Miao instead, both out of sense of debt for YM saving his life and because he genuinely likes him (and yet, there is no instalove on either of their parts, their bodies have fun a lot quicker than their souls.) Anyway, the two take up farming, get involved in the imperial exams and it’s the life of prosperity and peace, until an invasion happens and things go rapidly to hell. This is so nuanced, so smart (smart people in this actually ARE!) and has secondary characters who are just as complex as the mains (for example, I ended up adoring YM’s friend, the one who starts the plot by almost beating LZF to death for no reason) because the novel never forgets that few people are all villain. There is a lovely character arc or two - watching YM grow up and LZF thaw - there is the fact that You Miao is a unicorn in web novels being laid back and calm. This whole thing is a masterpiece.

2. Stains of Filth (Yuwu) - want the emotional hit of 2ha but want to read something half its length? Well, the author of 2ha is here to eviscerate you in a shorter amount of time. This has the beautiful world-building, plot twists that all make sense and, at the center of it all, an intense and all-consuming and gloriously painful relationship between two generals - one aristocratic loner Mo Xi, and the other gregarious former slave general Gu Mang. Once they were best friends and lovers, but when the novel starts, Gu Mang has long turned traitor and went to serve the enemy kingdom and has now been returned and Mo Xi, who now commands the remnants of his slave army, has to cope with the fact that he has never been able to get over the man who stabbed him through the heart. Literally. This novel has a gorgeously looping structure, with flashbacks interwoven into present storyline. There is so much love and longing and sacrifice in this that I am tearing up a bit just thinking of it. If you don’t love Mo Xi and Gu Mang, separately and together, by the end of it, you have no soul.

1. The Dumb Husky and His White Cat Shizun (2ha/erha) - if you’ve been following my tumblr for more than a hot second, you know my obsession with this novel. Honestly, even if I were to make a list of my top 10 novels of any kind, not just webnovels, this would be on the list. It has everything I want - a complicated, intricate plot with an insane amount of plot twists, all of which are both unexpected and make total sense, a rich and large cast of characters, a truly epic OTP that makes me bawl, emotional intensity that sometimes maxes even me out and so much character nuance and growth. Also, Moran is my favorite web novel character ever, hands down.

Anyway, the plot (or at least the way it first appears) is that the evil emperor of the cultivation world, Taxian Jun, kills himself at 32 and wakes up in the body of his 16 year old self, birth name Moran. Excited to get a redo, Moran wants to save his supposed true love Shimei, whose death the last go-around pushed him towards evil. He also wants to avoid entanglement with Chu Wanning, his shizun and sworn enemy in past life. And that’s all you are best off knowing, trust me. The only hint I am going to give is oooh boy the mother of all unreliable narrators has arrived!

The novel starts light and funny on boil the frog principle - if someone told me I would be full bawling multiple times with this novel, I’d have thought they were insane, but i swear my eyes hurt by the end of it. I started out being amused and/or disliking the mains and by the end I would die for either of them.

#cnovel #2ha #yuwu #to rule in a turbulent world #lsww #sha po lang #golden stage #return of the swallow #transmigrator meets reincarnator #lord seventh #grandmaster of demonic cultivation #heaven official's blessing #the dumb husky and his white cat shizun

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fandom-blackhole · 3 years ago

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I'll See You in my Dreams- Soulmate AU

AN: First off, sorry I didn't have this up earlier, I went through so tough writer's block that is kicking my ass and my school year has begun so I had to focus on that for a bit. Second, I wanted to say, the next thing I write is probably going to be the next part for Merman!Din because I hit 100 kudos on the fic over on Ao3. Third, starting probably towards the end of this week, maybe Thursday or Friday, I am going to start character takeovers. I will make a post about who it will be and how long it will be around during the morning and reblog it throughout the day along with any disclaimers/rules. I am thinking this is something I can do during the weekends when I don't have classes and Im not writing. Love you all and I hope you enjoy this fic!

Masterlist

Pairing: Paz Vizsla x Reader

Words: 1K (sorry its short....)

Summary: What if you, someone from Earth, miraculously were soulmates to someone in a galaxy far, far away?

Warnings: descriptions of pains, sadness, yearning, soft love confessions and promises, unedited bc I am tired and just wanted to post this

The dreams, oh, the dreams….

They come and they never stop, always leaving wondering and wanting, aching.

You do not understand them, what they meant, if anything other than a manifestation of desires, but when he appears you feel like you are in another world, another galaxy all your own, made for you and him alone. He tells you you are his one, his only, and your heart soars with every small touch and smile. His whisper of your name, and promises sworn in a language so foreign, yet familiar after years of their whispered softness, cause you to feel like you're floating, like you are where you are meant to be, in this loving man's arms.

Only...each day as you wake, you come crashing down into the same disappointing reality, reminding yourself that he is not there, and he is only a cruel trick your mind plays upon you heart and soul each night, laughing as you wake to the same cold loneliness of day, ripped from the warmth of his arms that hold you each night. It had been like this since you could remember, even as you were a child he would appear in your dreams and ask if you wanted to play with him. He told you stories that his family, his culture taught him, the things that were even at that age obviously very important to him.nYou parents would praise you for your creativity when you repeated the stories to them. They never understood.

Your parents didn't understand why you never let go of this imaginary figure in your dreams. They couldn't comprehend why even after you grew away from the imaginary friend stage you still talked about the boy that simply did not exist to them.

The older you got, the more you realized that you wanted no one else but him. No one else could make you smile or laugh the way he could. No one else made you feel safe the way he did. No one could come close to making you feel cherished or content the way he did. No one could touch just how loved you felt each night when he gave you that shining smile, followed by an endearment in his sacred language- he had attempted to teach you a few basics at one point, but he only kept chuckling and teasing you softly as you tripped over the words he said so effortlessly.

It wasn’t until you were graduating high school and looking into colleges when it dawned on you how much you loved the man in your dreams. How you would never be happy with another, not knowing he was there, even if he was not real. You would never find anyone better than the boy you had watched grow into a man, than the person who listened to you talk endlessly about your life, the one you told all your secrets to never holding any information back because you knew he would never judge you. But this, this realization you kept to yourself, not wanting to share and find heartbreak from the one person you knew you would never be able to recover from.

So you pulled back slowly, never fully distancing yourself how could you, but you tried to never come too close, fearing the pain that would follow if you did. And you hated every second of it.

As you progressed through college, you both lamented your stresses to the other seeking comfort in just venting or just listening to the other’s voice. You were busy with school, stressing over finals and papers, while he was worried about his people, his covert who he was now lead and teach, he worried about the future generations as his people’s numbers kept diminishing.

Life and stresses seemed to take over and pass in rhythms. Soon you both found yourselves in a comfortable dance, but one that had each side aching for more but unable to ask for it.

By the time you graduated from school, on track already to work your dream job, you found yourself suddenly feeling hollow. A feeling that started showing up in dreams, a feeling that was only suppressed when you brushed against his hand, or he reached out and hugged you before you both woke. But it did not take long for the feeling to spread into your waking hours. Life became numb at best, painful at most. The feeling only getting worse as you were with him. Some nights it felt like your entire body was screaming for the man you could not have.

But it changed one night suddenly. You had not even got to say hello or hi to him before he pulled you into his embrace, whispering words of defeat, whispering how he could no longer hold back, being apart from you for so long hurt him. He said that his very soul was hurting and he just needed to hold you for the night. And you caved. You caved and held him as tightly as he held you, hot tears slipping down your cheeks as you hiccupped the words you never wanted to tell him. You stuttered through devotions and dozens and dozens of ‘i love yous’, and you were overjoyed, bursting at the seams when he returned each with his own love confession, with his own devotions for you. And you only cried harder, finding yourself slowly being soothed by his rumbling voice in his chest and his calm words.

You both stayed like that. The night ticking by but moving slower than normal, or it could just be the quiet nothing of the world as you held tight to each other. Maybe it was just wishful thinking, hopes to freeze in time and never wake again if it meant staying here wrapped in the other’s soft love and body.

But….like each night come to pass, you found yourself being lulled and pulled away from the man you loved so forcefully. He could feel it too, you knew he could by the way his arms tightened, and as his final words were whispered into your ear before you were ripped apart.

“Mesh’la, my fierce love, I swear on the name of my ancestors, that I, Paz Viszla, will find away to reach you in daylight. I will come for you, cyare, I promise with all my being I will come to you.”

700 Fic Taglist: @shellyc9 @ben-is-a-hoe @mrs-ghuleh @moodsare @mysticalgalaxysalad @eri16 @elinedjarin @reverielibrary @bunny-fair @justnat15 @ollovaemisc @indycaelumskywalker @just-someone11 @peach-child @remmyswritings @gotham-city-uber-driver @mindidjarin @kirinpl @katie-sheep-111 @lovecatsnotpeople @3braincells @bunny-fair @phoenixhalliwell @skellylady @kikiinden @lothiriel9 @misguidedandbeguiled

Permanent Tags: @mysticalgalaxysalad @phoenixhalliwell @moodsare @perpetual-fangirl900 @night-snows00 @dumbass-simp-for-fredweasley @stargazingthenightaway @meabravo @just-here-for-the-moment

Paz Tags: @bunny-fair @elinedjarin @shellyc9 @blackmarketmummy @djarin-junk

Join the Taglist

#700 followers fic #700 followers #soulmate au #paz vizsla x reader #paz x reader

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darthmaulification · 3 years ago

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honey and milk | shaak ti x reader

A/N: *breathes in* I LOVE WOMEN SO MUCH!!! 😩😳😖🥵🤲💞💞💞💦💦

i did it. i wrote the one (1) self indulgent shaak ti soft smut body kink stuff that i wanted to do. i made it sapphic, i made it queer, and i’m finally content and the harvest is good. 🤲😌 finally, something to contribute to the CRIMINAL lack of shaak ti content.

also, i’m so swamped with college schtuff, and most of it’s writing, so please excuse any absolute incoherency this may have, my brain is running off of FUMES, i tell ya. 💀 so i am sorry i’m not spitting out much content! 😖

hope y’all enjoy! 💗

content: sapphic smut (ish), wlw, body worship, exploring each other’s bodies, implied angst bc relationship has to be hidden :(, reader is force sensitive and a jedi, reader is also implied afab but i didn’t use any pronouns/gendered terminology, forbidden love type beat, can y’all tell i like women?, greek mythology references bc i’m a gay, also semi-religious stuff? idk i use divine imagery

word count: 1,899

There is something so pure in touch, in how two beings can close the gap between their bodies and make the infinity of space more tolerable. When it’s Shaak Ti, your adored secret lover, who stands so close that you smell the wine on her lips, touch is even more sacred.

“Will you allow me to remove your robes?” You ask Shaak Ti, safely within the confines of her room, where the three white marble walls and the one glass one concealed by closed, floor-length mahogany curtain protects the images you both must maintain. Outside of this room, Shaak Ti sits on the Council and is regarded as the wisest among them. Outside this room, you are a respected Jedi Master and formidable ally to the Republic’s cause. Inside, behind the closed door, the drawn curtain, and the mellowed atmosphere of Naboo’s evening; you are both simply in love.

“Yes. Always.” Shaak Ti replies and her voice is the heaven all the Maker’s angels sing of, and immediately your fingers reach the mustard yellow hem of her cloak, where you stop briefly to thumb at the stitching on the underside, where you had sewn your name years ago. Shaak Ti hums, hearing the memory of the moment playing in your mind (always open, for her) and smiles, the quietly happy one you adore. When you meet her gaze, her tired dusky eyes soft with love, you smile too, pulling the fabric from her shoulders.

“You are my heart and soul.” You murmur, watching with heavy-lidded eyes as more and more of her brilliant, tiger lily red skin is revealed. The strong curves of her shoulders, the delicate slopes of her biceps, the dip of her elbows, and then the lean muscle of her forearms, all unfurled to your sight like a flower opening it’s petals to the sun. Shaak Ti’s cloak falls to the floor with a shallow thump when you let go of it in favor to grab her wrists, where her skin fades to the pale pink of her hands.

“And you, mine.” Shaak Ti purrs, and the Force coos like a newborn infant, whispering louder when her curious lekku brush their midnight tips against your knuckles. You laugh gently at the sensation letting go of her wrists to bring your hands to the expanse of skin that teases her chest. Placing your palms atop her sternum, you internally bless the rhythmic thumps of her heart before you guide her to turn around.

“Allow me to unlace you, my lady?” You ask in a teasingly lilted tone, one that makes tender mockery of the handmaidens that a Naboo noble had assigned to both of you earlier. Shaak Ti laughs at the poor impression of the workers, and nods her head, montrals twitching in amusement.

“Of course, my dear.” She speaks, voice thick with amusement and you kiss her bare shoulder, marveling at her soft skin. Your love sighs happily when you plant kisses to the third lek that falls and aligns with her spine, alternating between kissing the creamy white and the midnight blue. Expertly, your fingers undo the laces that hold her bodice tight to her torso, and it goes slack when you untie the final knot.

“Have I told you how much I adore your skin?” You ask as Shaak Ti shimmies her hips to shake her dress from her body, voice almost catching in your throat when the fabric falls past her shapely buttocks. Of course you have, you had the first time she ever got bare before you, when she first entrusted you with the sight of her soft carnelian skin, skin made unique by the swooping white markings on her back, sides, and thighs.

“Have I told you how much I adore yours?” Shaak Ti fires your question back at you as she turns around, and she is a goddess; fully nude and beautiful like Aphrodite arriving at Cyprus in the company of Love himself and all the ocean nymphs. The smile that pulls at your lips grows when Shaak Ti steps out from the pile of her skirts at her feet, giving you a wonderful show of the sway of her hips and the bounce of her breasts.

“You are my everything.” You breathe, sighing when Shaak Ti presses her body to yours, warm and tall, montrals wrapping themselves around you like a second pair of arms. Briefly, she doesn’t respond, too entrenched in the heightened senses given to her by her Togruta biology and the Force to reply with anything salient. Though Shaak Ti collects herself quickly, offering you an almost drunk looking grin before placing a kiss to the crown of your head.

“I do believe you are wearing far too much clothing.” She speaks, her hands finding the edges of your cloak much like yours had earlier. You hum in reply, watching as her delicate yet strong fingers undo the clasp at the front. It’s palpable, the quietness that settles between the both of you, but it allows you to grasp at the Force, pluck it gently like the string of a harp, and have the sensation reverberate to your bones and quiver the air around you.

“Allow me to unwrap you, my gift?” Shaak Ti asks, both saying the question aloud and sending the implication of the thought to your mind. There’s nothing else for you to do but agree with a silent nod. Shaak Ti lets go of your cloak, and it flutters to the floor like a leaf from a tree in autumn. She leans in to you, and you tilt your head to welcome her lips that make a home with yours. As you kiss, Shaak Ti’s peach colored hands start to pull at your unassuming beige robes.

“When I dream of you, you are sunlight.” Shaak Ti whispers against the soft curve of your cheek after she pulls out of the kiss, the Cupid’s bow of her plump upper lip touching your skin. You shiver, and the Force around you does too, and when her palms slide down your shoulders taking your clothing with them, you’re lost to her touch. The heavy, tawny brown fabric falls to the floor, landing in a crumpled crescent at your feet.

“Beloved.” The endearment escapes Shaak Ti’s lips in a breathless sigh, sounding as though she was wounded by the sight of you. Her long fingers dance across the skin of your arms as they travel up to trace your collarbones, and then rest upon your neck. At the beginning, you would have found yourself somewhat bashful at having your bare, uninhibited body stared at so intensely, but now you bask in the stare of your lover’s dark eyes, which have never held judgement, never criticism— Only love.

“You are beautiful.” She says, and you place your hands on the swells of her hips to balance yourself when her traveling fingertips tease the delightfully sensitive parts of you, and you shake your head. You slide your hands up the smooth curves of her waist, thumbs extending to touch the tips of her lekku.

“No, you’re beautiful.” You reply, smiling cheekily when Shaak Ti gasps when one of your hands abandon her waist in favor of wrapping around her lek and stroking the sensitive appendage. In retaliation, she glides her hands down your sides and reaches around your back to squeeze the globes of your ass. You gasp and squeal, body lurching into hers at such a forward action, but the smile on your face doesn’t fade.

“Shaak Ti!” You reprimand with no true conviction behind it, only laughter and the deepest parts of you begging for her to do it again. She grins broadly, the rare one she does when she’s feeling extra playful, and you shiver at the promises it can uphold, the things she’s done with those dusty rose lips and pointed canines.

“Perhaps we are both beautiful.” She concedes, and those lips with all their wonderful memories are on yours again. Shaak Ti kisses you like your precious and you kiss her the same, alternating from dominating her mouth with your tongue, to allowing her to claim full reign of you as well. At some point, with all the fervor and lust clouding your senses, you find yourself in her arms, her large breasts pressed to you, heavy lekku slung over your shoulders. Your thumbs rub circles on her hip bones the way you know she likes, and the Force positively sings.

Somehow the both of you, still so engrossed in each other, manage to find the bed, where you lie side by side, entangled and ensnared by each other. Your legs interlock together, your calf resting above Shaak Ti’s, the meat of her thigh above yours. You moan into the kisses she gives, and she moans into the ones from you, and your hands greedily pull her closer, and her fingers wring in your hair.

The silken sheets below you feel as though you have Shaak Ti giving you her all as you give her yours on a cloud, as if you’re both floating in the air as you swallow all the little noises from the both of you. And it still feels like your amongst the clouds when, only minutes later, your fingers explore the most sacred part of Shaak Ti, the sanctuary she offers you between the apex of her thighs, where you bow your head and drink her nectar until she weeps your name. You give her libation again and again, three times for each word in “I love you”.

The clouds you stay in when she gives you that same worship, when she skillfully collapses the cosmos around you when you dip into orgasmic bliss, when her fingers and mouth are akin to the golden apple gifted to the fairest one by Paris — desired, purposeful, and dangerous. When she brings you over that peak three times all while you grip her montrals and repeat her name like incantation, gasping and moaning and trembling until you know only her name, and the sting of the marks she makes all over your skin.

The Force is still buzzing by the time you’ve both exhausted yourselves, found your bodies pulsing and aching with the aftershocks, but reveling in the afterglow. It may be midnight, or even later, but you will forgive the roughness of waking up in the morning when it means spending the night with the softness of Shaak Ti.

It’s quiet, and she is still wrapped around you as you are her, and there’s something so pure in touch, in making the night one of love and something more, reveling in touches that so rarely happen lest you warrant the suspicious gazes of your fellow Jedi and the consequences to your love should it ever see the light of day.

“I love you.” You murmur half asleep against Shaak Ti’s breast, where you rest your head listening to her heartbeat. She hums, the hand that she’s been rubbing the soreness from you pausing as she too starts to slip beneath the spell of slumber.

“I love you.” She sighs, and it’s then the Force stills its trembling to a dull flow, like gentle waves rolling to and receding from a shoreline, perhaps the one your goddess walked upon, fully formed, accompanied by Love. You fall asleep to that heartbeat.

#star wars #star wars shaak ti #shaak ti #shaak ti x reader #shaak ti x you #shaak ti my beloved 🥺🤲💕

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yandere-society · 4 years ago

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The Rabbit Hole

Summary: The Windy City in the mid-1920s is a spectacle of lights and sounds, roaring with the excitement of jazz music and swinging dance moves. Amid the brilliant stars of Chicago nightlife, there is a dark underground of secrets, mainly that being the mysterious Wonderland Ball you've been invited to participate in and be crowned the next "Alice". What you don't know is you may or may not be allowed to leave, per the Mad Hatter and a White Rabbit's desires. So, daring and brave as you are, you decide to take a journey down The Rabbit Hole and come face to face with high society - people - as you've never seen them before.

Genre: Yandere; Historical Fiction/ Fantasy Based In The 1920′s; Smut; Thriller; Alice in Wonderland Inspired

Warnings: Yandere themes, Mentions of drug/ alcohol use with/without consent, mentions of “gangsters”, light talks of selling your soul/ the devil/ religious “themes”?, sedative drugs used non-consensually, vivid dreams/nightmares, maybe light profanity? Smut: Non-protected sex (twice), creampies, oral sex (f and m receiving/giving), slight nipple play?, spanking, marking, bruising, slightly rough sex, use of a sex swing/ sex swing intercourse, f and m orgasms. I think that’s it.

Pairings: Jeon Jungkook (White Rabbit) x Reader (Alice) x Kim Seokjin (Mad Hatter), Side Pairing of Johnny (Jonathan) Suh from NCT x Reader, Johnny x Jung Jaehyun from NCT.

Author’s Notes: This is not going to be a historically accurate piece. As much as I am an advocate for research and learning about the times of old, I am only human and I am short on time researching in between my full time job. I have grown up and currently live in Chicago and I have never written a story about the Windy City before so here I am, writing to you about the wonderful city I call home. I am doing my best to stay true to my writing as well as make it as accurate as one can, but please forgive me if there are faults in this story!

We are not doing a collective Valentine’s Day event this year but the contents of this piece have been weighing heavily on my mind, so I asked if I could write this story for a little something-something. I hope you all enjoy it!

Written By: Admin 💖 @therealmintedmango

Also, who do you think the other boys from BTS are from Alice in Wonderland in this story? I’d love to know!

Stepping out of my very own vehicle my future husband’s family sent for me, I take in the sights and the sounds that Chicago provides this snowy afternoon.

People waltz around one another and mingle about, snow crunching under their feet. The faint sounds of jingle bells float down the streets in the chilly air, it smells of popcorn and roasted nuts as well as the sludge of gasoline tainting the snow. A cold breeze gliding across the buildings nearly knocks me off my feet as I look up to my new place of residence, a new high-rise Michigan Ave. The stars above my head seem to sparkle in the dark sky, or are those just the electric lights from the grand buildings surrounding me?

Curious, I think as I continue to have my sights set above the horizon. I’ve certainly strayed very far from the corn fields of back home. Inhaling the sharp, bitterly cold air around me, I feel a sense of dread almost wash over my senses. I knew what I was signing up for when I came here. Jonathan and I discussed it in great detail over the wire.

The reality of the situation is finally sinking into my layers of clothing.

Jonathan Suh, the grandson of Suh Realtor Industries Incorporated - which owns about one third of Chicago - has asked me to marry him. It was seemingly out of the blue too. I was going to spend the next years of my life trying to marry into the best livestock or vegetable farmer in town, not the filthy rich grandson in a large city. It felt like a dream when he called me and begged me to come as soon as possible. I suppose it pays off to be kind to everyone, especially when it felt like it was yesterday we were both in grammar school together.

I drink it all in, the busy sounds, the cold night air that leaves me feeling bitter and raw standing in the street while snow begins to descend from the blackened sky. It feels foreign to me even though it’s only about two hours away from the farm. The breeze blistering in from the west sends a chill up my spine.

This is a new beginning, I ponder to myself as I stretch upwards in the middle of the sidewalk. This is my chance at a better life, this is way better than being some poor, sad farm girl. That’s right! I’m going to be the wife of my childhood friend who just happened to be some rich playboy who has more money than he knows what to do with.

I’m going to be a Suh!

...Even if the whole arrangement is a sham...

“Miss, you are going to freeze to death outside!” Jonathan’s maids rush to usher me out of the cold quickly, but not before I accidentally bump into someone on the busy sidewalk.

“I beg you to pardon me,” I mumble as I set my sights over my shoulder on a man dressed in a long coat with hair as white as the snow currently blanketing the ground. “You’ll have to forgive me, I am just enraptured with how bright Chicago seems to shine at night.”

The man’s seemingly red eyes expand with my excitement, then soften. “No pardon to beg, Miss…?” He queries, a bloom of warmth spreading across his face.

“Suh.” I smile as the men shout from my car they have finished unpacking. “Well, I am the future Mrs. Jonathan Suh. For now I suppose I am still Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Strange, I didn’t think he… Well, never mind that now.” His eyes linger on mine. “Johnny’s got good taste.” I hear him mumble under his breath in a deep tone, slurring his words together in a string. “Well, I can’t wait to see more of you, future Mrs. Jonathan Suh.” He says as he swings his coat behind himself and takes off down the street, the crowd and the night dissolving him like a pill in warm water.

Curious and curiouser this night becomes, I think as the maids finally have enough of me standing about in the cold.

“Do you know who that was?” I ask the hoard of them, hoping someone has the answer to my bump in the night with a rather odd fellow. My heart is beating but I’m not sure what for. I know my place. I know why he called me… My fate was sealed as soon as I got the wire from my future husband.

The collective flock shake their heads and mutter polite “noes” as they lead me up grand staircases of marble and through dim corridors at this time of night, leaving my brain a drifting piece of snow in the blizzard that will surely accumulate outside overnight.

“Right this way.” A young redhead coos as she parades me up what must be my twentieth flight of stairs I’ve climbed this evening. “Master Suh will be so happy you are here at last!” They lead me into a beautiful room with the most lavish furniture I’ve ever seen in my life! Magazines and pictures certainly don’t bestow such fine items with quite the same honor as seeing such beauty in person.

“Madam Suh has a full schedule for you this weekend.” One of the elderly looking women dares to swoon as she says, “Wedding planning, I’m sure, no doubt.” My coat is taken from me and I am given house slippers to wear.

The flock - or really I should call them a herd of lemmings - all agree once more as a butler leads us through a hallway with objects of fine art, pottery, and paintings. Each item is so uniquely wonderful that it would make my brothers’ and sisters’ heads spin if they saw how perfect and polished everything is. How ornate and lavish! Am I to spend my life with fine, intricate pieces of art from all mediums? I wonder if Jonathan has created any of these himself? Would he allow me to paint? I wonder...

“Master Suh,” I inhale, realizing I am right at the threshold of a beautiful oak door. “Miss Y/N Y/L/N has arrived.” The butler announces.

My body feels all fuzzy and nervous for some reason. It’s been many years since I’ve seen my dear friend from when we were still learning how to hop on a bicycle in the country where his family had a small house and property that butted up against my family’s by the little lake in the middle of a corn field.

“Y/N!” A deep, refreshing voice purrs before he embraces me in a tight hug. “How was your ride? Did the car fair well, unlike the weather?” He chuckles as his tall frame dwarfs mine in comparison. The scent of him is most definitely cinnamon, scotch, and leather, which I’m not surprised. All fine things to smell of for certain.

The maids all giggle and mumble their approval and the butlers look away, anxious to gaze upon a woman in another man’s arms. I suppose his gesture of a greeting is very rude, but I don’t mind. Being smack-dab in the middle of my siblings, I feel like nothing phases me anymore, even the hug Jonathan wraps around me.

“Jonathan Suh,” I simper, pulling out of his embrace, “The ride was not too terrible, and my, how tall you’ve grown! And so dapper too.” I sigh earnestly. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.”

“I hope you say that every day you wake up and I am there beside you.” Jonathan’s brown eyes seem to daze in the glow from the lamp lights in the sitting parlor.

There’s nothing more I hate than an arrogant flirt, not to mention an arrogant flirt with money is all the more trouble. Is this really going to be the rest of my life? Living with Jonathan like this? So contrived and fake… it makes my insides twist.

“I am rather weary though from a day full of travels.” I pretend to yawn, shifting out of his arms bit by bit and heading toward the door. “May I have the delight in seeing you tomorrow?”

“Oh yes, you must be quite tired. I always get sleepy on car rides.’ Jonathan muses as he extends his hand to the door and the staff scramble into place. “Mr. and Mrs. Alan would you please escort Y/N to her room? I will be here but on the other end of the house until we are...you know-”

“Goodnight, Jonathan.” I say almost too quickly after that, leaving almost as swiftly as I’ve come.

Once my hair is down and I am dressed comfortably in my nightgown, I feel like I can take a deep breath again. It feels odd with my hair unpinned, sitting in a brand-new nightgown, overlooking the rocking waves of the lake and the snow that drifts down from the sky. Basking in the sill of my window from the beautiful lights and moonlight shining through my velvet curtains, I hope and pray that every night I spend in Chicago is not as forced and fake as this one has been.

I’m chasing something odd in my dream.

I move between pictures hanging on the walls, through the bellies of grandfather clocks, I emerge through the darkness every time, chasing a little white rabbit with a cottontail through or around objects of grand design. I have never had a dream that felt so vivid and real, like I am actually flying through my thoughts, time of the utmost essence for some unknown reason. I can’t seem to escape a dark feeling looming around me and I feel slightly frightened that I will not catch the little thing.

When I reach for the little dumpling covered in pretty white fur, it lurches forward, propelling my desire to catch up to the little beast.

I descend deeper and deeper, the spotlight in the darkness focused solely on the bunny ahead of me. I can’t reach him, I’m not fast enough, my feet do not carry me quick enough. I call to the animal but it doesn’t hear me, instead it flies between two large velvet curtains.

“Please!” I beg the animal as I pop through the hole in the curtains, shuffling through on my knees. “Where are you taking…me…” My question dies in my throat as I look up to find red eyes, his curly blonde hair waving at me from under a gold top hat, a gold mask from that of a masquerade celebration covering most of his face.

But, I know that soft smirk well now. I’ve replayed it several times already in my mind like the fool I am.

This is the man I met on the sidewalk. I gasp. But, why is he inhabiting my dream?

“Welcome to Wonderland, Alice.” A soft voice wafts from high above the two of us, making me shiver. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

Why am I frightened? Surely this is not a nightmare. I was only following a rabbit and now I am here with these two men.

Slowly, my eyes trail up the large mahogany platform, showcasing a very large, ornately plush gold and maroon seat which houses a man in an all green suit of the finest quality. He is also wearing a mask trimmed with greens and golds, his lush lips pinkened like he had just indulged in delicious raspberry jam pulled into a dark smirk. He sits with the side of his pale face in one of his hands, resting comfortably on the arm of the pretty chair. The man from the street sits on a swing that hangs high from the rafters, silently taking me in. An aura of power and class drips tastefully from every fiber of his being, weighing heavily upon me like he is a hammer and I am but a humble nail.

“Good job chasing rabbits.” The man’s smile further stretches, his amber eyes boring down upon me, making my skin want to jump from my skeleton. “The next step is to find The Rabbit Hole.”

My eyes fling open, a train's loud horn blaring in the distance, the golden morning haze filtering from the curtains across the room. I jolt upward in bed, cold sweat beading my body, tainting the beautiful nightgown the Suhs have given me. I throw the sheets off my bed and clutch my forehead, musing the words of the man in all green over and over to myself in a frenzy.

...What a dreadfully vivid dream...

I’ve been here for almost a week and I’ve lost count of the tea parties and luncheons I’ve attended with Mrs. Suh. The people and the houses and families they all belong to are getting lost to me in the wake of planning for a wedding. Though, I’m not sure how much I am actually planning. Merely pointing between two colors of table placemats and napkins or choosing between a flower or two.

Tonight though, it is another snowy evening on the lakeshore, we are attending a jazz concert at the Sunset Cafe to see a wonderful show performed by the talented Cab Calloway and Louis Armstrong who make the most wonderful music. I was practically buzzing when I heard the news that the Suhs would be taking me this evening. As always, Jonathan and his mother have only two options for me to wear this evening and I must make a choice between them. A silver, more A-lined gown that shows off more skin than one should in the winter with a mink-fur cowl or more fluttering, off the shoulder velvet cobalt-blue style of a ball gown with embroidered golden stars falling from the bust in waves of tulle.

Call me old fashioned, but I choose the one that makes me feel like a princess, not the one that makes me fit in. My thoughts wander between which Suh picked out which dress for me to wear and the dream of me chasing a white rabbit.

I can never seem to catch that rabbit nor have I seen the two men since my first dream. It relieved me, but it also scared me.

A shimmering laugh that is made of moonbeams and stars pulls me from my spell of thought that engrossed me.

The Suhs are dotting and cheerful people, always looking out for their only son in this cruel world. They are wonderful and powerful in their own ways, working the men and ladies in the sitting room of the theater with just a glance or smile of their lips. Mr. Suh smokes a cigar and smacks Jonathan on the back as they stand in the corner away from the ladies. Mrs. Suh includes me in all her conversations, never wanting me to feel lost or dissuaded from a million questions by another matriarch of a well-to-do family.

I can see why Jonathan doesn’t want to disappoint them or the good people of his clan’s name before or after himself.

The room is hazy from the smoky cigars that the men all drag on in between their elaborate conversations about President Coolidge and his beliefs while the women discuss lighter subjects such as traveling to Paris and Morocco as well as tennis. I find my thoughts up in the cloud of smoke that hangs in the room.

“Pardon me, ladies,” Jonathan places a hand gently upon my shoulder, “may I steal Y/N away for a few moments?”

“The concert will begin shortly, Johnny.” Mrs. Suh smiles, casting her charms to her son who smiles with reassurance to his dear mother.

“Don’t fret, mother,” Jonathan grins as she calls him his nickname, “I want to show her off to my college chums.”

Her eyes twinkle in delightful mischief as she swirls her glass of sweet liquor in her hand. “Just be sure to return her in one piece. Y/N has a long day ahead of her tomorrow.”

More wedding planning I’m not privy to I suppose? Such is my life now. High society is fun and all but the pressure is unlike anything I’ve ever felt before… No, my brain is captivated once more by the dark aura of the man from my dream, looming and lingering above me, teeth glimmering in the lim electric light of the room from my lucid dream. That was true, pure evil pressure I wish to never partake in the feeling of ever again.

Jonathan says nothing as he turns from her, ushering me away with his hand placed gently on my shoulder. We move silently and quickly through groups who mingle and giggle, alcohol strong in their glasses and upon their breath as we pass through the crowd of rich socialites.

We stop at one group of gentlemen, but I am only introduced to one handsome man named Jung Jaehyun who fondly shakes Jonathan’s hand and winks at me. What an odd fellow, I tell myself as we dive deeper and deeper into the crowd of people loitering in the fancy sitting room.

“I’m glad you wore the one I picked out.” Jonathan says so low that I may only be able to hear his words. Well, that answers that question then. “These men might eat you alive, so stay as sharp as a blade but soft as a lamb, understand me? They will not leave me be until I introduce you to them.”

“Are they your friends?” I query with a whisper as he pulls me to the edge of the room where young men have beautiful young ladies draped on their elbows.

I have never seen a lady look like they do, but I suppose it is fashionable and “kept up with the times”. I am not so appealing as these ladies are with their skin on display and their heels high, they attract my attention before the men who hold them up do. Their makeup is dark, yet shimmering in the soft glow from the electric lights from above. The fair ladies’ hair is cut so short, their sideways hats and feather headbands merely slip off their sleek and shiny hairstyles. I am in awe of the way they look and envy them for behaving and chatting so freely.

“Do not be scared, but they are budding gangsters who run speakeasies.” My eyes widen with his words, but I do what I am told. “Please do me another favor, Y/N, and become the most desirable woman here.” Jonathan whispers to me before we approach the hoard of people in front of me. “I will set you free from this cage as soon as I can.”

I can only nod as my demeanor switches like that of a light switch.

Walking up to these men and women I’ve never met, I invoke the acting spirit of Jane West for Jonathan. I demand my attention. I am the most beautiful creature in this sitting room, if not all of the world. I did not go to college but I am going to show you how well read and cultured I am. I am going to be a Suh and I command you all to bow down to me in this instant.

“Suh!” A tall man with coiffed, sandy blonde locks beams as he steps away from his fair darling on his arm tonight. “You dog! I didn’t think you’d grace us with your presence this evening!” They shake hands and laugh at nothing vigorously as I look between the two before the blonde catches my eye. They are pretty amber eyes that remain half-lidded and surely dazzle in the glow from chandeliers above. He’s not as tall as Jonathan, but he is handsome. “This must be-”

“Y/N Y/L/N.”

A voice from behind the blonde says clearly, setting to be free from the shadow of Jonathan’s friend.

It’s the white rabbit! I think as I try to hold myself together. He looks rather dapper in a white and gold waistcoat with tails, a top hat making him appear to be as formal as one can be. This is the gentleman I bumped into the streets, but I cannot press out of my head. I want to tell him to stay out of my dreams, but I fear he will think me mad if I declare such a bold thing without expressing my thoughts further.

“You know of my future bride, Jeon?” I feel the grip upon my shoulder tighten and breath being held from above me. Don’t fret, Jonathan, I would never tell anyone. I promise. Your secret is safe with me.

The friend with his hair as white as the fallen snow looks at me passively, eyes rimmed red like he can’t sleep a wink either. “I met her on the sidewalk, John, but we’ve never been properly introduced.” He bows and takes my blue-colored gloved hand in his white ones. He kisses the top of my hand and in this ball gown-like dress I am indeed fulfilling my fantasy of pretending to be a beautiful princess. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, future Mrs. Jonathan Suh.”

“Y/N,” Jonathan says, exhaling the concerned breath he’s been holding in, his grip returning to normal as well. “These are my friends from college: Mr. Kim Namjoon, whose family owns one third of the city like mine does, and Mr. Jeon Jungkook, who makes up the triangle of the most powerful families of Chicago.”

“At your service.” Jungkook says with a cheeky grin stretching across his face, kissing the top of my hand once more.

The way he looks up at me makes butterflies trapped in my body flutter and flounce about. But I cannot swoon or succumb to a young man so openly. Jonathan is counting on me.

“I’m delighted to meet Jonathan’s friends from his schooling.” I say in the same charming manner Mrs. Suh has produced all week.

“Forgive me for this is a bold question, future Mrs. Suh, but, will you be getting a gown made?” Namjoon asks me as he sips his scotch on the rocks.

“I think tomorrow I am going for a fitting, yes.” I nod my head, smiling just the right amount.

“Then it should be crafted by the finest in the Windy City, Kim’s Couture on the corner of Washington and LaSalle Street. Have you heard of the establishment before?” Namjoon queries.

“Indeed! I have!” I exclaim happily, my eyes wide as his stay half-lidded as though he is sleepy, though he smiles earnestly.

“Then I must insist you have a treasured wedding gown made by my seamstresses.” He hands me a white business card with only his name upon it. I stare at it until he taps it twice. “They will take excellent care of you, I promise.”

“Oh-ho!” A soft, almost melliferous voice rings out behind me. No... “This must be the infamous bride-to-be!” I know this voice! Fear rattles through me, making me tremble as I look over the shoulder Jonathan is not draped over to look at the mysterious voice. Time is slow as molasses as I face the man from my dream, clad all in a green waistcoat, vest, and top hat, wolfishly grinning at me.

“Ah, this is my eldest brother,” Namjoon muses as the electric lights flash, indicating the performance will begin soon, “Seokjin Kim.”

Kim Seokjin...

I feel like I know everything about this man yet nothing at all. He is the type of man who is a brilliant summer on the outside and stormy winter on the inside. The smile on his lips - that is the color of the inside of a cherry tart - is warm, yet cold all in the same breath. He appears to be a powerful man of high class, wrapped in an enigma of grace and power. But there is a scent of something malicious in the air as he closes the gap between us and gets down on his knee to kiss upon my hand.

I’m not sure what made me do it, but something comes over me, the flight or fight instinct animals possess lurches out of me in this moment.

“Why is a raven like a writing desk?” I ask, pulling my arm away from him.

Seokjin’s bright amber eyes slowly travel up my ball gown, disbelief and confusion colors his good looking features.

Mouths open in shock and my heart drops, but I feign a lie, turning out of Jonathan grasp, and quickly say, “Forgive me, for I feel faint.” I run to the bathroom in the hall as everyone piles into the main room of the Sunset Cafe, heart pounding in my chest and cheeks on fire.

I’m so sorry Jonathan, I did not mean to make a fool out of you. There is just something about the way Seokjin’s gaze is so feral that chills me to the bone.

A hand rests upon Jungkook’s shoulder while he continues to longingly gaze at the door as if he was willing me to come back with his mind. “Don’t worry, Jeon.” Seokjin purrs in his ear, amber gleam set upon the door. “She is the one who chases you every night, not the other way around.”

“I know, hyung.” Jungkook whispers as the brass begins to trumpet through the building. “When do we make our move?”

“Soon.” Seokjin chuckles darkly, guiding the younger of the boys to follow behind him. “Very soon we will have our glorious tea party.”

The subject of marriage has always been an odd one to me, I think to myself as maids and fashion consultants from the Kim’s dress boutique flutter and coo around me.

My parents married but it was never for love. I knew that, my siblings and myself knew that, yet they both loved us all the same. My mother and father married as more of a “good match on paper�� sort of situation, than they were truly, madly in love. Still, they never fought, my father never hit my mother, never drank himself silly, never talked to another woman. My mother upheld the same standard and raised us all with love in her hardworking heart. I knew she was aware that I haven’t spoken to Jonathan since we were young children and that I would soon be in the same boat if I accepted his offer.

“A lifetime of money doesn’t equal happiness.” She told me. “You should marry for love, not for any green or gold.”

I agree. I know this full well. I’m not one to be stingy or greedy by any means. I don’t want to be an actress in a picture show or model for a beautiful Channel garment. And though I do want love in my life, I want a secure future. I am the middle child of middle-class farmers. The best match I could have made besides this one was with a cattle farmer or a man who works in the stockyards on the south side of Chicago.

It’s selfish for me to do this not only for myself but to my mother as well.

But, I am here and like my family, I will be fiercely loyal to the man I will call my husband. If not, call me a bold-faced liar and take me and my words to the grave.

Jonathan Suh is not a bad man for who he prefers in the sheets. I know that and have never felt such a way to treat someone less of me if they do prefer the company of one sex over another. I will not break the promise I’ve made to him, but I cannot help but feel like a songbird trapped in a tight, metal cage for the decision I’ve made to help him.

Due to the poor weather Chicago has currently come down with, the wedding has been postponed until further notice.

When I wired my family to tell them the news, my mother answered. I was a bit more than surprised that she almost sounded relieved when I told her the news. I promised I would wire soon and my younger sisters begged me to take them to the city to go shopping at Marshall Fields. My father sounded passive at first when the telephone wire was transferred to him by my youngest brother after he told me the family cat, Cheshire, had gone missing.

Truth be told, I am also more than happy to exhale a breath and not worry about someone questioning me about my upbringing. Or having Mrs. Suh and the don of high-class ladies and waist-coated men galloping around every breath I take.

I can finally relax, I think as I pull out a book in the study as Jonathan reads the Chicago Tribune on the couch across the way from me. We get along well, I realize. Silence suits us both. No tricks, not faking our way through hordes of important people. We have to conserve and save our energy for when we face the people mercilessly wanting to know everything and anything about us, good ole’ Jonathan and I...

No, not Jonathan anymore… I am to be his wife, and he...my…

I peer at him from over my book on flowers, losing interest in the pages.

Can I really pretend we are to be an item forever? Will one of us crack or slip up? It seems like we are stuck in a circle now, both of us floating in a pool of choices we will surely drown in.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Someone knocks at the door, plucking me from my fever of thoughts. I fully peer over the pages in my hands, pretending like I was in fact engrossed in the origin story of an author I enjoyed as a girl.

“Enter.” Jonathan says without skipping a beat, not looking up from his black and white ink. His eyes scan the pages, following the drumming beat of the grandfather clock next to the roaring fireplace. But, now that I study him closer, I’m unsure if he was actually reading or just musing to himself like I was moments ago.

“The post, sir.” Butler James reports as he opens the door, my handmaiden Emily gliding up to us with a silver plate in her hands.

“Thank you, Emily.” Jonathan gives her a half-smile as he takes the single envelope off the tray, slicing it open with trepidation.

I look at the blood-red colored wax seal as he flips the paper, revealing a knight chess piece glaring upside down at me.

Jonathan scans the letter passively at first, his orbs lazily scanning the pages, then suddenly his eyes ignite with rage behind them. “No.” He says softly, red flushing to his handsome face. He rips the paper up into shreds then, aggression and hatred oozing from every pore for some unknown reason. He gets up as he throws the scraps in the fire with vigor as butler James, Emily, and I all stare at him like he’s grown a second head. “Don’t you dare go.” He warns me, irises blaring with unmeasurable loathing. “Those people are dangerous.” Jonathan practically snarls as he exits the room in a fit of rage, stomping down the hall as we look on stunned and slack-jawed at what had just happened.

From what I can tell, Jonathan isn’t one to get upset easily or lash out so that letter must have set him off. But what could it have been?

It really has sparked my curiosity, that’s for certain.

Where wasn’t I supposed to go and who was so dangerous?

I got the answer the next day as I read a book about traveling the jungles of South America.

“Miss!” My handmaiden whispers like a hiss as she enters the study. “Miss!”

“Yes, Emily?” I smile, putting my book down as she flutters to my side in a nervous frenzy. “What is the matter?”

“I snagged this from the post, miss.” She hands you the letter you saw the previous day with Jonathan, the one that he got enraged over. “Please open it quickly, miss, before the butler spots it! They want us to destroy anything with this seal on it!”

I do as I am told, opening up the letter addressed to both Jonathan and myself with the odd wax seal to find an invitation inside.

You Are Cordially Invited To Participate In:

THE WONDERLAND BALL

A Masquerade Party To Determine The Next “Alice”

For Directions Follow Us Down The Rabbit Hole

Knock Thrice For The Door Mouse To Let You Inside

Cheers,

The ‘Mad Hatter’ & Company

“How curious...” I muse as my eyes trail over the letter over and over, wondering what has Jonathan all in a panicked rage. “Well, I don’t even know where “The Rabbit Hole” is so I shan’t be going.”

“Tis’ a speakeasy, Miss.” Emily says her eyes wide as she reads the paper with you. “They say it’s the most fun one in all of downtown!” She giggles. “Shall I fetch you a gown for the ball?”

“No.” I shake my head with a small smile, hanging her back the letter. “If Jonathan said he doesn’t want me to go, I won’t.” I pick up my book as she slightly deflates, wanting to paint me up for the festivities I was invited to. “Please burn this now, Emily, so you don’t get in trouble.”

“Right away, Miss.” Emily bows a little before she heads out of the room, leaving me to daydream in the middle of the study in peace.

“How long must we wait?” Jungkook pesters Seokjin tirelessly who looks down from his wooden pedestal in the back room of the very peculiar club. “I am afraid a letter and her dreams are not going to cut it.” Jungkook snorts, frustration flashing in his red eyes.

“Mm, yes…” Seokjin rubs his chin with his white gloved hand, “Johnny boy has been hiding our little Alice away from our prying eyes, hasn’t he?”

“Yes!” Jungkook stomps his foot like that of a child, fists balled into tight fists at his sides. “And I was promised a maiden for all the hard work I’ve done for you!”

Seokjin laughs darkly then, the sound echoing off the walls of his private chambers. “Jungkook, I’m not sure if you understand that poisoning people and taking out a few smaller families in our beloved city is considered hard work.” He stops then, Seokjin’s usually light voice dripping with malice when he says, “But, I suppose this is one way to end the Suhs and get the last jewel on the crown you are desiring in your attempts to rule the city.”

“Is everything in place for the ball?” Jungkook grits his teeth as he stares up into the man who could end him in one go, but is choosing to help the young gangster. “Your magic won’t fail us now?”

Seokjin winks at him, spending him a flying kiss as he says, “It's going to be dreadfully delightful.” Ending the Suhs, managing to take out some more people in big crime families in Chicago, and adding one more perfect woman to his growing collection of pawns.

Sure, he was mad and about to destroy several lives in the process, but hell if he wasn’t half brilliant and good looking while doing so.

“Mr. Jeon!” I gasp as I peer at the man at my penthouse doorstep, covered in white flakes of heavy, wet snow sticking to his black trench coat and bowler hat. Everyone, even most of the maids were out this afternoon which is why I find myself in front of the door to the penthouse.

“Good evening, Y/L/N.” Jeon Jungkook smiles as he looks down at me earnestly. “Is your future husband not at home?” He whispers as he looks around the empty foyer, red-rimmed eyes glancing over the dim electric lights in the hallway.

I flush. My mind was hazy remembering my kiss with him and the other man that is never far away, Kim Seokjin, from the depths of my dreams. My dreams need to leave me be or I may turn into a codfish with the way they keep my head spinning. They haunt me so, the way my brain demands my nightmares to be replayed over and over like this.

“I’m afraid not, he said he’d be out for the night, taking care of something important at the office.” I say with a fake sigh, shaking my head. Truthfully, he’s been acting very strange lately and I can't quite put my finger on the reason for his odd behavior. Ever since he got that letter… Come to think of it, I haven’t seen any post since that strange night. I’ll ask Emily about it in the morning.

“I see.” Jungkook says softly. The grandfather clock chimes from the sitting room and I am suddenly aware of what time it is. I’m severely underdressed in my baby blue lounge attire, completely ill-prepared for meeting company. Books about faraway lands with princes and kings were the only thing occupying my time this evening and I’m embarrassed to even think that. “In that case, your outfit will just have to do, I suppose…”

Jungkook suddenly steps closer to me in one long stride, closing the gap between me and him. My heart skips a beat, his pupils dilate, my words run dry as he snakes one arm around my back, the other holding my chin with his thumb and forefinger.

“Mr. Jeon-” I stammer, unable to call for help, now that this man has me in his grasp.

“I have been willing you to come and follow me, to give into your darkest desires, but still you resist me.” The young man hisses down at me, brows knit with confusion. “You are the only thing anyone talks about and I cannot stand it any longer.” My mouth hangs open. His nostrils flare as he makes his move. “You will be mine. Not locked away in this tower while Johnny is out and about with another man. You will be our new Alice.”

Before I can say anything, he pours a vile from his pocket into my mouth, holding it above my arms so I can’t smack it away. It tastes like roast turkey and strong alcohol and I try to claw and get away but I cannot as Jungkook holds my mouth open; my tongue feels numb and my arms feel like jelly, going limp in Jungkook’s arms. The only thing I can remember before completely blacking out is the little tag on the side of the bottle that says “DRINK ME”, tied with a pink ribbon hanging from the tiny glass and the smell of his cologne which reminds me of musk with a dash of black pepper.

Faint sounds of brass and strings pull me from my unconscious state in a flurry.

My brain is working hard, producing series and strings of thoughts. Why did Mr. Jeon Jungkook do that to me? Does Jonathan know where I am? In the same breath, where am I? What was that drink? Have I been poisoned? I look at myself on the red heart-patterned bedsheets. I look fine. There is no sign or feelings that I’ve been harmed, no bruises, and most importantly of all, there is no blood. There is no indicator at all that I’ve been harmed at all, which makes me sigh in relief.

But still, where have I been taken? This surely is not a room in the Suh residence.

A room with no windows, a giant bed in the middle of the room, large wooden pedestals with various wax candles lit drip down the sides surround me, red velvet curtains drape the walls making the warm room seem even more dim, and a wooden swing all decorate the space I find myself trapped in.

I can feel the color drain from my face when I realize that I’ve been here before. In fact, I’ve been here many, many times - almost every night. Not in the flesh but in my dreams. The only thing that is missing are the two men I see every night…

All the little hairs on my body stand at alert, worry coloring my thoughts, and I feign a small gasp in the large room.

With a lump in my throat and my heart thumping so hard I fear it might try to escape my chest, I run from the room.

My blue nightgown flutters behind me, time seems to slow as my bare feet carry me through the rooms from my dreams - though it’s backwards this time. I dash like a mad person, twirling and twisting my way through the room with mirrors on every side, seeing myself panting like a dog running so hard in the reflective glass. Though, I am happy to see I have no scratches upon my face either. I run through the room with clocks hanging all over the walls chiming and ticking at different times, springing through the belly of a giant, tall grandfather clock. I trip over the hems of my dress in the room with a long table in the middle which appears to stretch on for miles in this long room. There are various tea sets, cups, and pots along with tea cakes and sweet treats placed in a perfectly chaotic mess on the table as the eyes of various animal heads stare at me from their places hanging on the walls.

As I shimmy through the small door leading to the room with the walls full of water and sea creatures from the ocean, I pause my panting and sputtering as I spot Mr. Jung Jaehyun with his back pressed up against the glass. He is moaning, panting himself, a masquerade mask dangling in his hand, legs wrapped around the waist of a tall man in a vest who is rolling his hips sensually into his. My eyes widen as I figure out what the two of them are doing quickly and avert my attention. My thighs rub together, a strange fire grows in my lower abdomen, and I know I shouldn’t be looking but there is nothing but pure bliss on Mr. Jung’s face.

I can’t stop, I remind myself as my feet continue to carry me through the rooms I know so well.

Slinking away across a far wall full of lobsters without being caught, I hear Mr. Jung Jaehyun mewl one singular name, “Johnny!” I want to turn around, catch my “future” husband's side profile as he makes love to another man, confirm it’s him, but my mind flashes back to meeting Jaehyun for the first (and only) time and how they touched each other so fondly. Jungkook’s words ring in my words as I hear laughing coming from beyond the rooms filled with tanks and gilled beasts.

Keep going. I can make it out of this place from my nightmares.

The next room is filled with more people, though it’s hazy at best in here. There are giant hookah pipes in the middle of floor cushions, people with and without masks on touching each other so unabashedly, some naked, half-nude, or still in their ball gowns all laying over each other in a pleasure-filled party I was slightly jealous I haven’t been invited to.

“Ms. Y/L/N?” A deep yet clear baritone purrs over the sounds of jazz music and groans of love-making. I turn my head to his voice, feet skidding to a halt as I look at Mr. Kim Namjoon in his half-naked glory, navy blue silk robe hanging off his shoulders exposing a lovely chest, half-lidded eyes tracing my form like I am a piece of delicate meat he wishes to indulge in. “What are you doing without your mask?” He snaps his fingers, chuckling lightly as he takes another drag of his long silver pipe. “Twins, get her a mask!”

“Where am I?” I query as I feel the presence of two figures slowly approaching me out of the dim haze. “Who are you people?” It feels wrong to be here, to witness this. It doesn’t feel right. I feel out of place and my body is begging me to run and my legs tremble like a fawn.

His brows furrow as he takes the tube out of his mouth, blowing smoke rings in my face. “Who are you to question me, Y/N?” He snickers as the “twins” catch my arms, placing a mask over my face as I struggle. “You are but another “Alice” to me. Take her to the ball, you two. The rabbit and the hatter are dying to see her, I’m sure.” They tie the mask around me successfully, leading me out of this room into the next one which I know is the one where the floor is a giant chess board.

“Please,” I plead with the good looking twins who march on like the loyal soldiers to this strange cause, “what is all this?” The music and the chatter and maniacal laughing is growing louder as we prance down the hallway with portraits of people who are dressed in all white and all red. “I just want to know…”

“Suppose we ought to tell her?” The taller of the two says after a moment of silence between the three of us.

“Suppose we ought not to.” The shorter one shakes his head as he carries on in the quest to take me somewhere. “Boss will be mad.”

“You are to be the belle of the ball.” The taller one says with a viscous boxy grin.

“The new “Alice”.” The short one with fluffy lips nods this time.

“Everyone keeps saying that, but I don’t know what it means?” I say as I hold my breath, about to waltz into the strange chess-board-like room.

“The most beautiful, wonderful, talented, special, magical-” The taller twin rambles on.

“The most perfect woman at The Wonderland Ball is called “Alice” until the next one.” The shorter one states softly as he inhales a giant breath. They both let me go, pushing me forward as the drapery of the simple heart-patterned curtain gives way and I am standing at the top of a grand staircase while hundreds of people from below all gasp and stare up at me.

As soon as I regain my footing a spotlight hits me and causes me to shield me eyes away from the bright light bearing down upon me. The upbeat music falls silent and I am acutely aware that I am standing here in my loungewear and not properly dressed to be at the forefront of attention this evening.

“And now the moment you’ve all been waiting for!” The voice that makes my hair stand up on end purrs as his lush lips soothe the microphone on the little stage they’ve set up for the jazz band to play on. Kim Seokjin, my eyes lock with his which dance with mischief, his smile greedy, dressed to the nines in a rich green suit. “The crowning of the belle of the ball, the apple of all our eyes, the one that shines brighter than anyone in the picture shows, Ms. Y/N Y/L/N!”

A roar of cheering, clapping, and brass music erupts as a white haired-man with a stretched, gummy smile that doesn’t fade takes my hand and leads me down the black and white staircase. The noises seemingly die in my ears as the man on my arm says nothing, grins like a cat about to catch a mouse in its claws. Time slows, people moving and waving at me become a blur as I see who is waiting at the bottom of the staircase.

Mr. Jeon Jungkook.

The man on my arm notices how tense I am and he ever so slightly turns his head and says to me in a deep voice, “They are not going to harm you. Jungkook is infatuated with you.” My cheeks heat up. “Seokjin is helping him accomplish his dreams because he signed his life away to the servitude of others for as long as he shall live.”

“Signed his life away?” I breathe, eyes never leaving Jungkook in a white waistcoat.

“You can’t get something for free in this world.” The cat-like man growls as we are almost there. “You’ve heard of an eye for an eye, correct?” I node slightly. “A soul of servitude so he can produce strange magic, according to him and the Red Witch of Underland.”

My heart nearly stops realizing what has happened. “The devil?”

“Bingo, babe.” The cat-man chuckles a deep rasp, sliding his arm away from mine. “Have fun.”

“Now you kids have fun chasing rabbits!” Seokjin’s voice crackles through the microphone. “Everyone, enjoy the last few hours of the wonderland ball!” More hooting and hollering echoes in the building as I am exchanged into Jungkook’s strong arms.

“I thought you’d never make it.” He smiles from under his white mask at me. He takes my hand and leads me to be embraced on the dance floor. Seokjin smirks at us as he begins to sing a popular pop song everyone swoons at.

“Would you like to tell me what this is all about?” I query with a sneer on my lips. “Why am I here? Why have you poisoned me?”

“I have not nor would I ever harm you.” Jungkook grips my waist tighter. “I merely gave you a strong sedative so that I could bring you to our wonderful palace.”

“Why?” I question as he twirls me around his outstretched arm.

“Because from the moment I bumped into you, you have been the only thing consuming my mind.” He earnestly tells me, sorrow coating his eyes. “I’m not sure what trap Johnny has ensnared or tricked you in but I very much hate seeing him lock you away from the world.”

“You’re wrong.” I state angrily, glaring at him.

“He doesn’t care about you. He likes to frolic about with diplomats’ sons, not farmers’ daughters.” Jungkook smiles at me.

“That’s not true…” I mumble, my eyes looking away from his red-rimmed ones boring down upon me. “I-I am marrying Jonathan for my own personal reasons.”

“Oh, ho?” Jungkook softly chuckles, leaning over, turning my gaze back to him as he gently caresses my cheek. “Do you really believe that, darling?”

“I do...I do! I-I came here willingly.” I tremble, my facade I’ve been trying to convince myself of this whole time crackling under the pressure of his words. “I l-love…” My words linger as I look beyond Jungkook, looking up to see, “...Jonathan…” walking toward myself in the middle of the dance floor.

“Jeon!” Jonathan says, Mr. Jung Jaehyun trailing behind him, eyes wide and scared when they find mine. The male in the waistcoat holding me turns his head to the noise, the brass music climaxing, the gasps of people Jonathan is stepping between couples dancing in the soft electric light from above - I feel like my heart is going to burst. My future husband pulls his arm back, fists clenched, ready to hurt Jungkook, and with an exhale I close my eyes fearing the worst was about to ensue.

The electric lights in the strange ballroom give out in the same second.

People scream all around me, a loud thud is heard and I feel like something unexpected is about to occur, the atmosphere heavy and full of invisible pressure.

“Release the jabberwocky!” A voice echoes as chaos ensues.

“Come with me.” A voice purrs, ripping me away from Jungkook’s arms. I feel almost empty as shouting and yelling break out in the middle of the dance floor. “I will protect you, Y/N, my crown jewel.” My stomach pits hearing him say my name, tickling my ear like the serpent that led Eve to eat the apple of her demise.

Kim Seokjin.

With a snap of his fingers, we are back in the room I started out this evening in and where my dreams always have me end at. I land on the bed in a huff and he ends up sitting upon the swing, looking at me with a triumphant smirk on his luscious lips. There is a certain air about him now that doesn’t seem so threatening, so serious now for some reason. Perhaps it’s him sitting upon the swing like that of a child? I haven’t the slightest clue.

“Where am I?” I demand, glowering at Seokjin from across the way.

“Curiosity often leads to trouble, my dearest Y/N.” Seokjin chuckles darkly, eyes roaming my body, a knowing look on his features. “I think before your marriage you are looking for a little trouble, if you catch my drift.”

Trouble…

My mind completely spirals remembering the scenes of people entangled with one another, their mouths working in tandem with each other, their slippery pink tongues entwined in a passionate battle for dominance. Mr. Jung Jaehyun’s face twisted in pleasure, moaning and mewling as his lover - my future husband - was thrusting vigorously.

A lightbulb finally goes off in my head.

“You want me to give into you both then my dreams will end?” My voice shakes as I query to Seokjin who continues to lightly push back and forth on the swing. “Then you will let me leave?”

His eyes flicker with a hungry vigor to them, gleaming in the dim candlelight. “Precisely.” His soft voice cuts the atmosphere like a sharp blade, leaving me with a chill radiating down my spine. “Let’s have some fun, “Alice”.”

“As long as you promise I am to be set free from all of...this.” I gesture around the room as he makes a come hither motion with his fingers at me.

“You have my word.”

Somehow, I don’t believe him, but I am desperate for any way out of this wretched place I can find.

So, I will use the body I was blessed with to the fullest extent.

I am a loyal woman. I step toward the man on the swing, my hands coming up to the ties around my chest and my waist. His eyes spark with a ravenous hunger in the depths of his orbs. I know that I am not doing a decent thing. Seokjin snaps his fingers again, all his clothes disappearing but his green top hat, vanishing before my very eyes. I know I am more than what I am succumbing to right now. But my stomach does feel hot and my thighs rubbing together is making me feel faint for some reason. My garments fall to the floor in a soft patting sound and I lose my breath in the same moment.

Don’t tell me I actually want this…?

I stand in front of him on the swing and I can’t help but bite my lip as my eyes roam his pale figure, tracing down his collarbones to his sculpted abdominal muscles he has been hiding. Did he sell his soul to the devil to become handsome too I wonder?

“So beautiful.” He revels looking at me unabashed, a wolfish grin spreading across his pretty face. Part of me wants him to touch me, to caress the underside of my breast, to trace the outline of my hips with his fingertips, but he doesn not.

I have to remind myself this isn’t for me. This is for the man that has been tormenting me.

“Get me ready for you.” Seokjin commands, smirk still spread across his face. I comply, dropping to my knees to be faced with a large member swinging forth from the middle of his legs on the swing. “And you will address me as “Sir”, understand?”

“Yes, sir.” I respond, biting my lip as I look from his eyes to his member once more.

“Suck.” He chuckles lightly, pointing to his middle and I can’t help but follow this simple instruction.

I don’t tease him, though I’m not really sure I know what I am doing in the first place. I swirl the flat of my tongue over his mushroom-tipped head several times. He moans in response, his hands coming off the swing’s ropes to hold my hair from my face as I swallow him further down my wet cavity. My middle aches and pulses, empty, missing something as I steady myself against Seokjin’s thighs.

“Good little girl.” Seokjin hums, his sound voice making me feel appreciated. The sound vibrating through to my own middle, making me groan around him.

I bob my head up and down his long length, enjoying the way he hums and gasps in response to my efforts. It’s a little hard to breathe I think as I continue my pace, nose hitting Seokjin’s pubic bone, smelling the most intimate part of him.

My dominant hand grabs his member at the base, working him in tandem with my mouth. Up and down his thick member I go, reveling in every twitch and rumble that flies out of his throat. The swing starts to sway with my rhythmic movements, bobbing him back and forth with vigor, tears climb to my eyes. The tip of him hits the back of my mouth, making me gag and choke on his wonderful cock. The heat was pooling in the middle of my stomach and I fear I am going to lose my mind. I pick up the motions of my mouth and hand, tears skating down my pinkened cheeks, his grip tightening around the base of my skull, digging into my scalp.

It burns… But, I also enjoy it. This feeling...so wet and tight and I feel so evil and sinful but the pleasure is driving me mad.

“Baby girl.” There’s warning in his tone as I pop off his cock in an instant, looking up to him with big worried eyes. His head was leaned back, not focused on looking directly at myself, but the feeling of my lips and fingertips. “Up.” He commands once more, head twisting back to a comfortable position to stare at me.

I scramble to my feet, missing the feeling of him in my mouth already, not to mention aching for him in the middle of my legs. I rub my thighs together for some easy friction, knowing that it won’t help me much at this point.

Seokjin moves his hand to stroke against his giant member in his palm and I lock my orbs in place on the slit of his cock where a clear liquid was oozing out. My mind is truly hazy at best, as I just stand there and watch him stroke himself up and down in a lazy fashion. I bite my lip once more.

I do want this. I am almost ashamed to admit that I want this man.

“Are you going to be good and let me use you?” Seokjin’s dirty words make my middle pool and contort with more of a raging fire.

“Y-Yes, sir.” I say again, cheeks hot and damp from sucking his cock moments ago.

His nostrils flare, his cock twitches in his grasp as he motions to sit upon his middle. “I bet you’re so wet for me.” He chuckles, smile darkening with his words.

Seokjin eases me down on his thick member, my hole so wet, so slick, allowing him to stretch my clenching walls in an easy motion. I gasp, eyes popping out of my head. My nails dig into his shoulder blades, back arching with his giant, twitching dick tight inside of me. I wrap my legs around his lean waist, his pale skin flexing in the candlelight with his movements as he stills, letting my hips sink down into the base of his cock.

“Baby girl.” Seokjin purrs, breath tickling my ear as he throbs inside of me. “I need you.” He growls, littering the crook of my neck with sloppy kisses. He positions us just so on the swing, readying us to begin when he deems necessary.

“P-Please use me, s-sir-r!” I mumble in the base of his neck, feeling high on this pleasure-filled pain.

“I live to serve.”

I gasp as he starts moving his hips inside of my center, bucking up into my body with a fevered pace instantly. The swing moves back and forth and I feel like the motion is going to make me feel his body sliding in and out of me too well. I cling to him for dear life, my grip surely bruising him or harming him in some way as he slides in and out of my slicked out center at a brutal rhythm.

Tears find my eyes again as he nips at my neck, marking me up with tender love bites. I’m a howling, moaning mess, losing my sanity. I am finally full of Seokjin’s girth, filling me up beyond desire.

Seokjin kisses my lips then in his, melting our mouths together in a hurry. He holds my face in his palms, grunting and groaning for me, and only me. His tongue enters my mouth in search of something unknown, moaning into my lips laced together with his hot mouth connected with my pink tongue. He rolls his saliva coated tongue into mine in haste, need seeping into my senses, consuming my thoughts as he thrusts up in me, using the swing as a propellant to ease us forward and backward.

“Feels...so-o..good~!” I moan in between our passionate kisses.

Seokjin just growls like a feral animal in response. The tip of his cock kisses my cervix continuously, brushing past a spot inside of me that instantly makes me quake. He rockets himself against me, rutting his body against my core in sync with his hips slamming into mine. Seokjin expels filth from his mouth about filling me to the brim with his seed, seeing my stomach swollen and full of his children, his warm breath hitting my ear making me shudder in response.

I can’t focus, my climax getting ready to pop at any moment. Wet noises fill the dark room, as Seokjin’s rough speed of his length in and out of my molten, wet center continues. My erect nipples swirl on his pale chest, circling quickly as he bounces me up and down his giant cock, swinging through the air like some sexual trapeze artist.

“Are you going to be good to me?” He asks me, smirk present in his tone, pace almost blinding now as he pushes in and out of me with a need so heavy and strong I can practically smell it rising from his skin. “Are you going to let me fill you up, my little doll?” Seokjin snarls into my skin.

“Pleaseeeee!” I practically scream, eyes flying open as he hits my center at just the right spot that makes me see white.

“Ah-ah!” He tsks. “What do we say?”

“Please, sir!” I mewl and gasp, thighs quaking in his hold, my juices squelching out of me as he continues to thrust into my sensitive molten core. “Seokjin!” I cry while he growls into the scorching skin of my neck inhaling sharply as he slams his hips into my shivering body. “Sir!”

Seokjin grunts, cock spurting his seed into me with a need so raw, so feral he finds his footing hard to maintain on the swing, stilling us from moving about, holding my hips tightly down upon him. He sucks harshly on my skin as he too shudders and grunts, biting down on the crook of my neck, stretching my clenching walls around his member as he fills me with his hot white seed.

My cries of pleasure fill the small room, my pleasure-filled haze coming to a close as Seokjin shifts us - still joined together - to the bed in the middle of the room. I hold onto Seokjin as he keeps his seed inside of me, feeling like I just had the ride of my life on top of him. My climax dies down, my first high fading away, fog around my brain being lifted temporarily as my nails rake over shoulders I’ve definitely marked up.

A cool, damp towel appears with a wave of his arms, stroking my middle with it delicately cleaning up the mess I’ve made. “How does it feel to be connected with the devil?” Seokjin sneers as he pulls out of me, making my center ache and twitch for him.

My eyes grow wide and my lips part but before I can say anything Jungkook bursts in the room.

“Am I late?” Jungkook pants as he looks awestruck by me on the bed.

“For a very important date.” I gaze back to Seokjin who is now fully dressed, smirking that soft, playful smile like he usually does at Mr. Jeon. “Don’t worry, I was just getting her ready for you, Jungkookie.”

Jungkook eyes him with narrowed orbs, but buys the lie Seokjin is selling and proceeds to strip himself of his white waistcoat. “What is on the menu tonight?” His red-rimmed irises bore into mine and I feel self-conscious suddenly. He circles the bed in the manner like that of a wolf would as he finishes stripping himself of any dressy garments, though his slacks remain on.

“The one you most desire out of everything in this world.” Seokjin purrs, stepping up to take his seat on his pedestal high above us.

Is he going to watch us?

“Fuck,” Jungkook growls, dropping to his knees in front of the bed suddenly. He pulls me closer to him by my ankles, throwing my thighs apart so my center is exposed to him in the rawest form. He stares at my glistening middle as I try to close my legs with a little, pathetic whimper.

“Don’t.” The rabbit-like man moans wantonly, holding onto my ankles loosely. “Fuck, you’re so beautiful, you know that, right?” His hands glide up my thighs achingly slow, holding me in pace for his eyes to ravage as they please.

The fire in my lower stomach has returned, hungry and ready to go for more.

His warm fingertips make it to my inner thighs, kneading the flesh there tenderly, so close to my throbbing core that I almost beg him with a cry to dip down into me, but I refrain, hanging on to every trace or brush of his hands against my scorching flesh.

“What do you want, my darling?” He groans into my inner thigh, lips ghosting my sensitive flesh there, inching closer to my heated skin with his upper body.

“Please.” I finally ask, begging, almost choking out the word, forgetting Seokjin watching us from above.

His dominant hand finally finds my nether lips, tracing them up and down with his two longest fingers but not exactly touching me where I am aching quite yet. “Please what?” He teases, stroking me up and down slowly, holding his feral gaze in mine, amber eyes seemingly on fire.

“Please, Jungko-“

He slaps my middle with little force or malice behind it, but I jolt, mewling aloud, wanting him to secretly do it again.

Jungkook goes back to tracing my lips in the middle of my body, smug smirk seated on his devilishly handsome face. “You are so wet, darling.” He slaps me again, though this time I want it more than I’d actually care to admit.

“Jung-” I choke on my words.

He slaps me again, this time with slightly more force behind his fingertips. I hiss out a breath, staring at him with my mouth slightly ajar, brows turned up, looking down at him with half-lidded eyes already.

“I have to have a taste.” He kisses my inner thigh as he slowly traces his thumb over my slicked out folds.

I let out a wanton cry as he hums into my thighs, growling low and deep. I swear there’s a smile in his voice as he works with his mouth and fingertip in tandem. “Mine.” He breathes, sucking on the sensitive flesh of my innermost thigh, marking me with a throaty growl.

“J-Jungkook..!”

I am a mess. I let loose a series of pants, breathless moans as he works my coil in the pit of my stomach tighter with every brush or groan he grants my hot body. I am melting under Jungkook’s touch, my body feeling sticky, arousal dripping from my middle while he circles my delicate clit.

His thumb was increasing his pace of gliding over my bundle of nerves, still slow, still making my breathing become erratic, but the desire for Jungkook to do more was driving me insane. I’ve had a taste of sex and look at me wanting more. I didn’t know if I could be in the position to ask for more. But I wanted him to place those perfect, beautiful sinful lips on my molten core. Jungkook’s breath fans over my middle as he continues to stroke me down there.

I miss the twitch confined to the middle of his pants from the man watching us from above with eager need.

As if sensing my need, his tongue swipes a slow stripe through my folds, the cool of his muscle against my exposed center making me black out for a moment, the sensation far too much for me to bear with right now. His snort of laughter brings me back to reality as he swirls his pink tongue at my empty entrance.

Jungkook laps at my folds as if he is a starved man, hungry, desperate for his next meal. I keen, gripping onto the base of his golden torso as laps at me. I’d think grounding myself on top of Jungkook’s head would make me saner, gripping his strands of hair as he goes to town in my middle. But really, it makes me feel completely mad, like I’ve gone insane.

The feral, untamed animal-like noises that escape his throat drive me absolutely wild, my skin on fire with need and want. My nails cling to his scalp, dragging him closer to my middle as he ravages my core. He maneuvers his two longest fingers through the glossy slick, lubing his digits to breach my entrance.

“Jungkook!” I gasp, choking on my words as he makes a come hither motion with his fingers, splitting my velvet walls to open for him.

Jungkook swirls his tongue over my little pearl of sensitive nerves, lapping and sucking my flesh like he's never eaten a thing in his life. He continues his very audible growling and moaning, husk in his voice incredibly thick.

“Let go, baby.” He coos into my middle as I jolt and shake, his digits brushing past the most delicious spot deep inside of my clenching walls. “Give me your release.”

His words finally tip me over the edge.

I tighten my hold on him, gritting my teeth in the process. My head falls backward on the sheets, eyes screwed closed as Jungkook slurps every inch of my middle clean, not leaving anything to go to waste.

“Kookie,” I sputter out, the feeling of his tongue and fingers becoming too much for me. “I-I’m c-c-cumming-!”

As I say the last of my words, the world comes undone around me for the second time today, my tight coil finally popping. Blinding white stars coat my vision for a second, my body shivering and shaking as I drip out onto the flat of Jungkook’s tongue.

He laps up my sensitive hole up with more snarls, more feral noises escaping his body. Tears flow down my face as I unhinge my nails from his silky blonde strands, trying to push him away from my overly sensitive flesh with pathetic mewls of protest escaping my throat.

More. My brian prompts me to continue to sate my undying lust burning inside of me. I need more.

“Jungkook,” I beg while his tongue still explores my throbbing hole, giving my sensitive skin rapt attention. “Jungkookie. Please. I c-can’t.” I tug at his blinde hair gently, trying to get him to stop teasing me with his tongue.

He doesn't stop and I can only think of one thing to ask before I lose my damn mind with him between my thighs.

“Jungkook.” I shudder, high building up once more. “Please fuck me.”

Everything in the room stills, the only sound heard was our heavy breathing.

He looks up from my sensitive core, brows knit together as he looks into my eyes with such a passionate gaze of uncertainty. My juices were coating the bottom half of his face, his blonde hair is in a state of disarray, as he proceeds to slowly rise to his feet, looking over me on the bed.

“What?” He questions incredulously down at my fucked out form. Jungkook looks at me as if I am the most fragile thing in the world, as if I would burst into flames at any moment. “My darling, my love, there’s no going back if we-“

“I know.” I smirk up to the gorgeous gangster in all of the Windy City. “I want this too.”

His nostrils flare, his eyes widen, and his gaze softens. Jungkook looks down at me with something akin to lust, which makes my heart rate increase...

“Up.” He commands, raw husk pouring out of his tone as he starts to undo his pants, the zipper noise almost jarring in the quiet of the night.

I do as I’m told. I’ve fallen far down the rabbit hole now, I think as I shift on the bed. Standing was a little difficult as he’s just given me one of the best feelings I’ve ever had. I keep my eyes glued to Jungkook. His hands travel sensually down his tiny waist to his slacks he unbuttons. I am gasping, unable to take my eyes off the very beautiful sight of his thick cock bouncing, finally free from the confines of his dress pants. The tip was red and angry, a bead of precum adorning the slit of his mushroom-like head. He was long, girthy, and I want nothing more than it inside of myself at this very moment.

Jungkook grips the base of his cock with his hand while he steps out of his pants, giving his shaft a few pumps up and down while I watch with an open mouth.

“I’ve dreamt of this moment for so long.” He confesses softly, reaching for me with his free hand. I inch closer to him, gliding my hands over his defined body, admiring his lithe, yet sturdy frame. My fingers hungrily trace every ridge, every contour of his golden torso. Jungkook was so warm, so wonderful, and I am slightly kicking myself for not giving into him sooner. “To have you,” he continues, kissing up the side of my neck.

“Please.” I beg him again, eyes flickering back and forth between his.

“Turn around.” He leans in to kiss me with passionate need. His lips molding into mine as I cling to him for more. I taste my essence on his tongue which makes me whimper into his strong hold. “I’m going to fuck you now, my love.”

Again, I don’t need to be told twice as he guides me to where he wants me, bending me at the waist so my fingers dig into the unkept sheets below, my backside open and exposed to him.

“So pretty for me.” I hear the grin in his deep rumble. Jungkook slaps my bottom, granting him a hiss to escape my throat. I whine when he does it softly several more times, making my head soar.

I hear him spit before I feel the extra saliva lubricant coat my backside, the cool of his juices combined with mine was driving me up a wall.

“Jungkook!” I gasp.

He groans when I call for him, pushing his fat head of a cock at my aching, empty hole, wanting him to finally join the two of us.

“Darling,” he sounds like he’s straining to hold back. “Baby, please, fuck!” He grunts, splitting my walls inch by agonizingly slowly. I moan as he stretches me wide, entering me like he owns me.

He thrusts inside of me all the way with one snap of his hips suddenly. A cry leaves my lips along with a strangled one from the man inside of me. My eyes widen as I realize that he’s not going to go easy on me tonight, he’s going to fuck me on his terms. I was in for a wild ride this evening.

Jungkook leans the front of himself over my sticky back, pressing our heated flesh together more, growling to the outside shell of my ear, nipping the flesh under my lobe while sliding in and out of me with a brutal pace he’s set.

“Baby…” he moans in my ear, the deep purr vibrating throughout his body making my breathing hitch and sob. His hips snapping into mine with a rhythm, I swear, no human man could ever achieve. Liquid was flowing down my eyes as the push and pull of Jungkook slamming his giant cock into my velvet folds repeatedly already had me tearing the sheets in two with my nails.

“Jung! Ah! Kook!”

Seokjin glides his hand over his cock from above the bed, matching the rhythm Jungkook’s hips produce, enjoying the wonderful show.

I gasp this over and over like a prayer falling from my lips. My eyes are squeezed shut, my body hot with the raw purpose to feel Jugnkook inside of my heated center. His cock pushes in and out of me at a fevered pace, making my vision blur, seeing far too many white stars.

My brain is fuzzy as he hits the spot inside of me that blinds me, pleasure swimming in my veins. My third climax was surely on the way.

“Baby,” Jungkook grunts, one of his arms snaking up my torso, his long fingers finding one of my bouncing breasts. He starts pinching my erect nipple, holding on to me tighter as we slide back and forth off of one another.

My coil was wound so tight, I don’t know if I’d be able to last much longer. Especially not with Jungkook’s fingers attaching to my hardened nipple, his lips to the crook of my neck, and his cock slamming in and out of my clenching middle with a fevered need.

He bucks into me faster, my walls clamping down on him, my coil about to pop, about to burst forth again. I can’t hold myself up any longer, my legs shaking violently. My knuckles are turning white with how hard I am clawing at the heart patterned sheets.

“Jungkook! I-“ I mewl, but I don’t get to finish my thought.

In a split second, Jungkook pulls out of my middle, flipping me over and letting me fall onto my back so I could be face to face with him. Jungkook climbs on top of me quickly, wanting to resume his feverish pace immediately, hunger and need in his amber gaze. He settles between my legs, pushing himself back into my slicked out center easily, restarting from where he last left off.

I gasp when he enters me, clinging to his shoulders, holding him while the lewd squelching noises in the room continue to grow, faster, louder. He grips onto my hips, guiding me at a blinding speed I didn’t know he could achieve. Is he a victim of the devil as well?

Sweat was pouring off our bodies, my brain unable to produce a sane thought as he grunts and moans my name, his red orbs never leaving my face as he rockets his cock into my folds like it was his job.

It happens again, the very right feeling deep inside of my body, the one that makes me grit my teeth, that makes me see hundreds of tiny white stars.

“Jung! Kook~!” I scream into the quiet room, tears flowing from my hues as I card my fingers through his blonde strands, trying to make a purchase on his roots.

My hands travel down his backside as he snarls, “I’m going to make you my wife! Not some wannabe from the Northside!” Jungkook huffs, his movements slowing down, one of his thumbs finding my folds again, circling my aching clit in hurry - a stark contrast to earlier. “I’m going to claim you as my own.”

Seokjin smiles like he’s just won the lottery, masturbating to the sight of both his clients intertwined, fucking onto each other with unbridled lust. He comes then watching his new toy’s back arch, breasts in the air, Jungkook’s frame pounding into her with hungry trepidation.

I grab onto the ample flesh of his bottom, feeling the world come tumbling around myself once more. Letting my body shake and quake on top of the sheets, my third orgasm taking me by force. I feel complete - feel whole for some reason. I am so completely taken aback with the storm rippling through my body in pleasureful tremors, one right after the other, I cannot even begin to breathe properly.

He lets a feral snarl rip through his body as he pumps into my leaking middle a few more times, my whole being consumed by Jungkook. He leans over me, sucking my neck colors of purples and dark reds and I scream as his cock swells inside of my velvet walls, releasing his own essence into my womb, holding him there like a vice grip as he spurts his seed deep inside of me.

Once our highs come to a close, I run my fingers through his hair, his throbbing cock still joined inside of my middle. We both pant, holding the other for dear life, finally together, and fulfilled with one other. Jungkook kisses along my jaw, moaning my name, telling me what an amazing baby doll I am as his cock finally softens inside of my aching cunt.

“Bravo.” Seokjin claps as he walks down the wooden stairs. “You both did very well!” He chuckles darkly. I squeak in surprise. I forgot he was there and I scramble to cover myself with the soiled sheets.

“Okay, Kim,” Jungkook says as he kisses my nose, pulling out and picking up my clothes and handing them to me. He dresses in his undergarments and dress pants quickly, buttoning them up as he turns to the man all in green. “You had your show.” I listen as I dress myself with haste, back turned to the two men. “I’ve done everything you’ve asked: invested the money overseas, gotten rid of the competition and family in this lovely city, got you a new “Alice”, and even let you watch us play ball. I think it’s time to set us free.”

“Yes,” the mad man snickers, darkness clouding his tone, “you both have served me well. But nobody is leaving my perfectly curated speakeasy.”

I turn around and my heart is dropping to the floor. Shock is written all over Jungkook’s face as I clench my jaw in guilt.

“But, I’m afraid you both made a deal with me, and I don’t give up my new toys so easily.” Seokjin caresses Jungkook’s face in his pale hand, while holding my gaze with a sense of gentle anger. “You can’t always get what you want. But hey, look on the bright side: at least you have each other.”

---

A/N: I hope you all enjoyed this trip down the rabbit hole! Likes and reblogs are very much appreciated!

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sup-hoes-its-me · 4 years ago

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Adore You (Yamato x Reader)

A/N: hi guys. Yamato is your secret admirer and you are desperate to find out who's been leaving all these gifts at your doorstep. Civilian reader. Will be two parts, and since i just found out i have the coronavirus and cant leave the house, i’ll be putting out the second part very soon.

Ps i headcanon that yamato would be very shy and awkward with his crush. i also think that when he is nervous he definitely has really sweaty hands. idk thats just the vibe i get from him lol. please enjoy.

Word count: 4500

Y/N walked down the street after a long day of working in the bakery, kneading dough and icing cakes and sweets. It was a great job, and she really enjoyed the company of the two elderly owners. In her arms was another small picnic basket filled with sourdoughs and garlic loaves and cinnamon raisin buns. Those leftovers served as her breakfast, lunch, and dinner most days and it saved a lot of money on groceries.

Sometimes, she gifted the bread to friends and family though, like tonight.

As she walked the bustling streets, people walking home from work for the night, she noticed a couple of familiar faces sitting in the windows of a nearby restaurant. Feeling a little social, she walked into the restaurant and turned the corner, walking through the tables and past other booths full of people talking and drinking. It was busy tonight in Konoha, everyone getting ready for the weekend.

She came to a stop beside their table, and shifted so her basket rested in the slight curve of her hip. With her free hand she waved to the men, a small smile gracing her lips.

“Kakashi, Yamato,” she chirped, “I saw you guys in the window on my way home from work and thought I’d stop in to say hello.”

“Y/N. What a pleasant surprise.” Kakashi hummed, peering over his glass of golden liquid at his friend, who he could tell was struggling to figure out what to say or do. Yamato wasn’t normally nervous; he was very cool headed. How else would he become such an important Anbu member? But around Y/N, this woman with flour dusted in her hair and the smell of cinnamon and chocolate on her clothes, he crumbled. Just that smell alone could make Yamato lose his composure. And Kakashi knew that very well. “As a matter of fact, we were just talking about you.”

Yamato coughed on his drink, covering his mouth with his arm to keep from spitting up on the table. Even if they were just talking about her, it was completely uncalled for for Kakashi to stab him in the back like that. He turned to face the young woman who looked down at him with curiosity in her eyes.

“Really? What about?” she questioned, raising a brow.

He averted his eyes to the table again where his hand rested clutching at the glass. “We were just discussing the bakery,” he explained sheepishly, a hand going to rub the back of his neck. He felt the stress coming on, and sweat was beginning to gather on his palms. He felt ill, and more importantly, upset with the friend sitting directly across from him, smirking under that damn mask.

What an evil bastard.

“Mind if I join you guys? I could definitely use a drink.” She motioned to the seat next to Yamato, and he scooted closer to the wall to make room for her. She made sure her basket was sealed and secure before reaching over the table to Kakashi. “Can you sit this next to you? I don’t wanna take up the whole table.”

“No problem.”

She slid into the seat beside Yamato, and he realized just how small their table really was. The chair was clearly made for one person, or maybe two small people. They were just inches away. He could literally feel the heat of her thigh beside his. He was losing his mind, he was sure of it. There was absolutely no reason to act or think this way just because of a woman, a little baker from the village. No reason. It was inappropriate.

He took a deep breath and sipped on his drink. Everything was cool. Y/N L/N was cool.

“What kind of goods are you bringing home tonight?” Yamato asked calmly.

“Uh, lets see. A sourdough loaf and a garlic rosemary loaf. Also, I have about eight cinnamon buns in there,” she listed off the top of her head, “Why? You wanna take some home with you, because that’s fine. I’m not gonna eat all of it.”

“No, not this time.”

“You, Kakashi?”

“Yeah, I’ll take whatever.” It was a free meal for the next day? How could he say no to that?

The waitress came around, and Y/N ordered a tall glass of some sweet drink, something she knew wouldn’t taste like shit but would get her all warm and cozy quick, fruit juice covering up the taste of poison. “So, what were you guys talking about before I came around? I didn’t mean to interrupt you.”

“It’s good you came around, actually. We could use a woman’s opinion here.” Yamato glared at Kakashi, pleading with everything he had for the copy nin to just leave it alone. Kakashi was set in his goals though, and pushed forward with what he was saying. “It’s about Tenzo.”

An even brighter smile grew on her lips, one full of mischief and curiosity. “Oohoho? I see. What’s got you men stuck?” She loved to gossip, it was just something so interesting in her mundane life. Surely, it wasn’t as interesting to shinobi who almost die all the time and always have something to do, but for a village girl who goes home every night to read and eat bread, and then go to work where she just makes and sells said bread, a bit of juicy personal information really intrigued her.

“It’s honestly not a big deal-”

“Our boy here, he’s got a crush.”

Her eyes widened and suddenly, she felt the urge to down even more of her drink. He was interested in someone? She never expected that. He was always so quiet and calm, and kept to himself. He didn’t seem like the type to ever care about someone in that way. She sighed, taking a long sip on her drink, which tasted like peaches and oranges. At least it was sweet enough to help her curb the impending sadness.

Maybe she was stupid for it, but she cared for Yamato. He was such a sweet and kind man, so earnest and gentle. He was everything good about her mornings, when he would walk in and ask for the same hot cross bun to start his day. He would smile and compliment the cake decorating she was working on, and tell her about his missions and what he had to do for the day.

Perhaps Y/N had the tiniest of crushes on Yamato. It was something she would never reveal to anyone else, but it was true. She couldn’t deny herself that fact.

Kakashi stared at the woman, gauging her reaction to the statement. From the way she immediately went to sip away half of the drink in her glass, and the way her shoulders curled in on themselves, he could guess how she was feeling. He wasn’t usually a fan of meddling in other people’s business, but he was beginning to feel tired of Yamato complaining day in and day out about how he could never get the girl or express his feelings. He was afraid of rejection, as sad as that might be.

He was just there to give them a push in the right direction.

“I see.”

“What do you think he should do? What do the civilian girls like?”

This crush was just another civilian. It would be one thing if he fell in love with a kunoichi, someone she would never be able to compete with, but the thought of him choosing another normal woman over her, the envy practically oozed from her pores. What did this other girl have that Y/N didn’t?

Y/N ordered another drink when the waitress walked by. And then another after she drank the second one. Might as well get more down and drown out these jealous thoughts.

Meanwhile, she listed off things that random women normally like when men do for them, things she didn't really care about like chocolates and asking them out to dinner and giving them stuffed animals. Boring things. Things they all already knew. Kakashi agreed that the advice was kinda bland, and he could have come up with that easily.

Yamato eyed her down nervously as she practically chugged the rest of her drink. The woman wasn’t a big drinker, just a couple innocent cocktails here or there, never with the intention of getting drunk.

“You okay, Y/N?”

“Yes, I’m perfectly fine,” she told him smoothly. “Anyway, I’m not done telling you all about us village girls.”

The third drink came by and she sighed, taking another long sip. At least it tasted good, that made it easy to drink and drink and drink.

“Maybe you should slow down.”

“Maybe you should worry about yourself. I’m grown. I can handle myself, Yamato.” He felt a pang in his chest at her sharp words, ones that he’d never really heard directed toward him. She scolded Kakashi on the daily for being a pervert, but only kind words met Yamato’s ears previously. “Anyway, about this girl. Have you tried getting her anything as a gift? The things I listed before? Love notes? That sorta thing?”

He shook his head. “Well, no. I haven’t tried anything yet.”

“That’s the thing about you, Tenzo. You’re so modest. If you want the girl, you need to go in and get her. You need to show her what she means to you, since you can’t bring yourself to just outright tell her.”

“The whole bold displays of affection aren’t my thing.”

She hummed, her head lolling from side to side as she twirled the straw of her drink in between her fingers. “Maybe you should try some roundabout approach since you’re so scared of rejection. Send her anonymous letters and gifts, give her little clues that it’s you and see how she reacts.”

“Like a secret admirer?"

“Exactly! That’s sooo romantic. I wish some guy would do that shit for me.”

Kakashi raised a brow. “Oh, really?”

“Of course. I’m almost 27 and I’ve never had a long lasting relationship. I just want some guy to really, I don’t know, just love me. Love who I am, not hook up with me for my body or-or only pretend to like me for coupons on bread,” she complained, quite loudly as well. “Fuck those guys and their bread discounts...”

“Y/N-”

“I’d suggest you do something like that for your crush. Make her feel like you really care about her mind and soul.” Y/N clutched her hand over her heart and squeezed the front of her dress. “So many men nowadays act like horny teenagers, and us ladies are sick of it.”

She really did not need to go into such detail, and Yamato could tell she was drinking too much. Y/N would never say these things aloud if she were completely in her right mind. He felt rude just sitting there letting her rant on and on, exposing her own feelings to the table. But at the same time, he was grateful to know what she wanted in a lover. She never really let on what her romantic life was like, other than single for the most part.

That is what he and Kakashi were discussing before she came around. He was desperate to sweep her off her feet and woo her, to make revealing his feelings easier. Kakashi told him to just go to the bakery and tell her right then and there, but that was just too bold. He wasn’t going to go in without a plan, it was irrational.

“Yamato, I’m telling you, if this woman rejects you, she’s fucking stupid. You’re a catch. You and Kashi over there, both of you could get any woman you want, and that’s a fact.” the woman waved her hand to emphasize her point, only to knock the rest of her fourth drink over into her lap, sticky syrup soaking into her apron and through to her skirt. “Oh man.”

“I think it’s time for you to head home, little miss Y/N,” Kakashi chimed in, “This is exactly why we don’t bring you to bars, you know.”

“Shush. I am fine.”

Yamato sighed, motioning with his hands for her to move to the edge of the seat. He rolled his eyes at her words, knowing she was talking out the ass. “Yeah, yeah. Just get up, Y/N. I’m taking you home.”

Both men were surprised when she lifted her hand and pushed him away from her. Her glare was intense, anger behind those eyes. “No! Not you. I want Kakashi to walk me home.” The man was taken aback by the harshness in her tone. She was normally calm tempered, but her head was spinning and she was obviously growing moody.

“That’s fine by me. Yamato, you’ll pick up the bill for us and uh, clean this mess, right?” Kakashi smirked as he slid out from the booth and picked up her bag of baked goods. She followed suit, climbing out of her seat and grabbing onto the shinobi’s arm tightly. He really couldn’t care any less about her nonsense. It had been so long since they became friends, he’d seen her in every mood imaginable, and much drunker than this. He’s walked her home more than a few times in their past years.

“Curse you, cheap-ass.”

“Gotta go.”

With that, the white haired man walked out the restaurant with a woman in tow. They lived in the same direction, so he started down the street as she stumbled after him, tripping occasionally on pebbles. He felt bad for his friend, really. But the answer was clear as day now. Y/N cared for Yamato a lot more than she let on. It was just up to one of them to make a move. He couldn't do everything for them.

She tripped along beside him, letting her head fall against his shoulder a few times. Her eyes slid up to the man’s masked face, and he felt her hands begin to quiver a bit around his arm, just a tiny bit, but it was still there. Those little, very-telling, tremors.

“What’s wrong, Y/N?” he asked gently, knowing she would immediately spill whatever was stuck on her mind.

“Kashi, why does Tenzo want some other village girl?” she questioned, her cheeks puffing out and her eyes getting watery with tears. “Why doesn’t he want me? I want him so badly, it hurts right here.” she placed her free hand over her stomach and gagged. “I might throw up, it hurts so much.”

“Trust me, it’s gonna be okay,” he hushed, a tiny smile on his lips. He didn’t want to reveal too much to her, but it was just so amusing pulling the strings like this. Two of his friends, one a subordinate and the other a sneaky baker, falling for each other right in front of him. With all the work piling up, this was definitely a refreshing take.

“Also, you shouldn't throw up. It'll burn your throat, you know.”

She nodded, and just clutched onto her stomach as they made their way down the narrow alleyways toward her small apartment. He unlocked the door for her when she struggled to fit the key into the tiny hole that blurred together with everything else. He was a good friend, she thought, and made a mental note to thank him next time she saw him. Well, she tried to make a mental note, but when her body hit the mattress in the corner of her small studio, she found herself drifting away.

__________

God, her head hurt so badly she thought her skull was cracking open right then and there, as she lifted her head from her pillow. Light shined in through the window only to make things worse than before. She looked around the room and noticed that her coat was hung up properly on the hook and her shoes were sitting by the door. Her basket rested atop her counter.

Most importantly, on her nightstand sat a glass of water and a couple pills, ready for her to take the moment she woke up. Kakashi or Yamato must have walked her home and put her to bed. They were very nice men, she enjoyed having them as friends, she just worried she had made a drunken fool of herself last night in front of them. She rarely drank heavily, for that reason. She couldn’t even remember what happened, just that she met them at the restaurant and then the rest fell empty in her mind, little images blending together until she couldn’t decipher a thing that happened. She was more than ashamed.

How could she lose control of herself so casually, she wondered. She never even wanted to drink, much less enough to give her this searing headache. Something must have happened last night that influenced her decisions. Maybe she had a drinking contest with Kakashi like that one time before. If so, that was completely uncalled for on the man’s part. He knew her tolerance.

Nevertheless, she needed to get ready for work. A hangover wasn’t enough to heed the workings of the bakery.

She took the pills, and threw off her covers, walking over to her counter to take out one of the cinnamon rolls, taking a big bite to curb her hunger pains. After taking a moment to compose herself, she got ready for work. If she was late, she knew the owners would be forgiving, but she still felt bad regardless. She was going to walk in looking like a complete disaster.

As she headed out her door that morning, she stumbled on something sitting right at the foot of her doorstep on the welcome mat. Resting there, in a tiny little ceramic pot, stood a bonsai tree, trimmed and cared for perfectly. Her eyes scanned the area for who could have set it there, but met only empty space.

Hesitantly, she picked it up and brought it into her home. There was no note attached, nothing to signal who’d given it to her. Just a little tree that she would put on her window sill. It was strange, she had to admit that, to receive an anonymous gift at such an hour. She’d have to ask her friends about it later on to see if one of them had given it to her, for reasons she didn’t know.

But as the days went by, and those days turned into weeks, she continued to receive gifts every few days. More tiny trees in pots, sometimes flowers in little glass vases. None of them at first had anything attached until the most recent piece which when she picked it up to take into her home, a folded piece of paper sat beneath the vase. She made sure to pick it and put it in her apron to read on her break when she went to work. She didn’t have the time when she woke up only about 20 minutes before she was due at her job.

She was more than grateful for the little garden she was accumulating on her window sill, the beautiful flowers and trees somehow surviving despite her little knowledge of taking care of them. She stopped by a flower store in town to get some fertilizer just to keep them alive. It would be a shame if they died since someone was being so kind as to give them to her.

With her boring life, the flowers brought a smile to her face and a warmth in her heart that she hadn’t felt before. Regardless of who was leaving the items there, she felt like she was important to someone. Some person was taking time out of their day to show they cared about her.

Truthfully, she’d be lying if she said she hadn’t wished it was Yamato leaving her gifts. She’d been attracted to the man for quite some time, ever since they met really. He was just so strong and brave, and awkward in a cute kind of way. He was truly the only man of her affections, and she could only dream she was the object of his as well.

It was more than unlikely though. He was a strong ninja of the leaf. The chances of someone that amazing wanting to be with someone as simple as the town baker were lower than she wanted to admit. He most likely had his eyes set on some gorgeous kunoichi like Shizune or Kurenai. Someone he could relate to, really.

It was embarrassing to even admit she had a crush on him. It made her feel so tiny and weak, knowing that she wasn’t his ideal.

So she pushed that thought from her mind. Yamato would never be interested in her, and he most certainly not the one leaving her little notes and plants.

What she did know was that this person was a shinobi. Maybe not Yamato, but they were definitely a shinobi. She set up a trap, at least one she thought a normal person would fall for. Right before her door, she set up a tiny trip wire made of floss at the perfect level for someone to pull loose when they walked up to leave a gift on her welcome mat. Her room was at the very end of the hallway, so there was no way anyone else except her secret admirer was the one to set off the trap. Any normal person without the high perception of a shinobi would set off the trap and she would be able to narrow down the results to a civilian.

Only, the morning after she set up the trip wire, when she opened her door, there sat another bouquet of flowers, as well as an untripped strip of floss.

This person had to be a shinobi. She concluded. It was the only explanation in her mind, desperate to find out who the mystery person was all this time.

As she walked the streets that afternoon after the store had closed, her eyes honed in on Yamato, who stood next to a vegetable stand picking up some groceries. Immediately, she turned on her heel and cornered him between the squash and the sweet potatoes.

“Yamato, I need to talk to you. It’s urgent. Do you mind?” she practically demanded, and his eyes widened. He did not expect such an abrupt conversation between them. He shifted awkwardly to rest his grocery bag in the crook of his elbow and lean on his left side, arms crossed over his chest.

He knew what she wanted to talk about. It was about those gifts that he had been giving her. It was just a matter of whether she had figured out it was him or not, that was the question. He was kinda hoping she didn’t know yet. He was not ready to face what came after the reveal, rejection or otherwise. He really hadn’t thought it that far out yet. How could he. Just thinking up love notes and what plants to give her next was more than enough to worry about.

But damn, when he looked down at her, hair dusted with flour from a days work, a smudge of cake batter still on her forearm, apron a complete mess, he wanted to cave and tell her everything. She was just so beautiful, so clumsily perfect he couldn’t help but lose his train of thought. He swore he’d never seen a woman more perfect than her, not even Naruto’s sexy jutsu could come close to this girl.

He found his ears heating up and no doubt turning red at the thoughts running through his mind, and he was quick to smother them down. He was not irrationally emotional. Hell, he was ANBU, he should be able to control his emotions down to a tee.

“Yes, Y/N?”

“I have a secret admirer, and I know they are a shinobi.”

He felt himself growing nervous. How had she deduced that? “Ah, that’s definitely exciting for you. How do you know it’s a shinobi?”

“I know because I set up a tripwire last night and the person didn’t set it off, so I know they are coordinated enough to avoid it. This isn’t just some random village boy. This is someone skilled.”

“Y/N, he could have very well just avoided the trap with his natural gait, don’t you think?” he tried to reason with her, try to get her off his trail. Admittedly, he thought she was quite clever for setting up the trap. When he walked over it the night before, he swore it was just a spider web. He didn’t even consider the possibility of a trap in his way.

If only he could throw her off his scent. He needed more time. He couldn’t confess to her now. It was too abrupt, too sudden. He would probably die.

“No, I’m convinced it’s a shinobi.”

Shit. “Well, what are you going to do now?”

She thought for a short moment on what she was going to say, tapping her foot on the ground beside her. Her eyes widened and she smiled at the thought that ran through her mind. Of course, it was so obvious. “The gifts come sporadically, so I know that the shinobi can’t leave gifts when they are on missions. Next time there is a long break in gifts, I will just ask around to figure out who has been on a mission for a while. Bam, I’ve got my answer. It’s foolproof.”

She really had thought this through more than him. She was too good, and he felt himself panicking. He had a weeklong mission in 3 days, and if she asked anyone, they would tell her it was him. He felt moisture gather up at his brow, and he internally cursed his situation. He had to find some way out of this mess without her figuring out it was him.

“Yeah, that could definitely work. I hope it all works out for you, Y/N,” he lied through his teeth.

“I know. I’m just smart like that, aren’t I?”

“You sure are,” he muttered, but honestly, he just wanted to go off and find Kakashi. He needed to talk to him. His eyes slid away from Y/N and he sighed. “I’ve got to go, but I’ll see you around, yeah?”

“Yeah, of course. Don’t forget to stop by before your next mission to get some of our special food pills, okay? I just made a new batch and you can try them free of charge. Anything for a fella as handsome as yourself.” She laughed, shifting her weight to press a hand to her hip.

Jeez. There was no good reason for her looking so adorable. Calling him handsome as well? It was all too much for his heart to handle. Needless to say, he felt like he was going to explode if he didn’t walk away right then. With that, he simply nodded before patting her shoulder. “Like I said, gotta go.”

“Oh, okay. See you around.”

“See you.”

He walked away quickly, heading in the direction of Kakashi’s apartment, knowing he just had to do something about the mess he was currently in, and ways to avoid the inevitable. His heart was racing so fast he thought he might be having a heart attack. How could he be swayed so easily by a pretty face. He had no idea, but he really wanted it to stop. For the sake of his sanity, he needed to learn to be calm around her.

He would tell her soon, get all this off his chest and share his true feelings. He just needed a bit more time.

#yamato tenzo #yamato x reader #naruto x reader #naruto one shot #yamato one shot #naruto imagines #tenzo #naruto #naruto shippuden #sorry for getting this out so late i was so tired from my new accelerated geography class i almost died #but here we are #my sick ass will have the second one out probably tmr night maybe sunday morning #yamato imagine

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iphoenixrising · 3 years ago

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DickTimWeek2021 Day 2

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

Welp. Time to break some hearts.

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

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

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

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

He’s riding the concussion train with

(J)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tim’s soul literally leaves his body.

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

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

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

But, well. Dick was Batman.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s a guaranteed win.

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

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

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

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

– anything.

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

Nightwing has seen him perform literal miracles.

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

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

The consistent beep of the flatline cuts through it all.

The Titans make it for the service.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–the Speed Force.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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dannys-phantoms · 4 years ago

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Doorways

DannyMay 2021 Day 5: Doorway