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no-144444 · 1 month ago

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A Christmas Prince (2017)- c.leclerc

₊˚🎄✩ ₊˚🦌⊹♡‧₊˚🎄✩ ₊˚🦌⊹♡‧₊˚🎄✩ ₊˚🦌⊹♡

summary: When a young aspiring journalist is sent abroad to cover a a coronation, she hears rumours about the 'Prince of F1' and goes undercover to investigate them.

pairing: prince! charles leclerc x fem! reader

9.8k words

disclaimer: i do not own anything in these films, the only original character is the character y/n.

‧₊˚🎄✩ ₊˚🦌⊹♡‧₊˚🎄✩ ₊˚🦌⊹♡‧₊˚🎄✩ ₊˚🦌⊹♡

You jumped up from your desk as soon as you saw him, and trailed him through the office. “Excuse me, sorry- Ron?!”

He turned to you. “Not now.”

��This will just take a second, I just have some questions about your article? The fashion week piece that I’m editing?”

He groaned, clearly uninterested in giving you the time of day. “Go for it.”

Nevertheless, you continued on. How could someone who makes so many noticeable mistakes have a higher job than you? How could someone so self-centred and rude be in that position of power? “The main problem is that Max wanted 300 words, and you’ve written 600, and also the models and designers you quoted weren’t even at the event so…”

“Y/n,” he sighed, putting a hand on your shoulder. “I don’t have time for you right now, just go off and fix it? Yeah?” he smiled, that punchable, asshole smile, and walked off. You rolled your eyes.

Working as a journalist bitch was not your plan when you moved to New York, but alas, your rent does not magically pay itself. Categorically, you enjoyed your job. Decent pay, good co-workers (minus asshole Ron), and it was pretty cool to be in one of the high-rise offices of New York, especially around Christmas. But… the whole getting to write articles part wasn’t something you got to do. You were an editor now, not a journalist. It was… slightly infuriating to know that someone less qualified got paid more money to write shit that you always ended up rewriting for him, but as we mentioned before, bills don’t pay themselves.

“Let me guess, you’re going to completely rewrite the article and save his ass?” Damon, your best friend, asked.

You faked a smile. “It’s almost like that’s my job!”

He rolled his eyes. “Tell him to shove it,” he scoffed. “Any of us could write that better- with our eyes closed!”

You groaned as you sat down.

“How the fuck are you ever going to be taken seriously as a real journalist if you are such a good editor?” he added. “He’ll never promote you if you’re always going to stay as his bitch.”

The ding of your laptop ended the conversation

Max wants you in her office- NOW!

“Oh fuck,” you said under your breath.

“What?” Damon asked, looking over your shoulder. “Oh… good luck.”

You walked into her glass office, praying to something to make this as painless as possible. “If this is because of Ron’s article-”

“It’s not, sit down. I have something else for you,” she smiled. You followed her instructions and stared at her, unused to the kindness. “What do you know about the Royal Family of Monaco?”

“Monaco?” you wracked your brain. “The King died a few years ago, the new King just got married, and the other two are racecar drivers, right?”

“Exactly, anything about the second eldest Prince?” she mused.

You grimaced. “He’s more loyal to Ferrari than his girlfriends and he’s a royal disgrace?”

She grinned. “Yes! Exactly that! Obviously, Charles moved off from the royal duties a long time ago, but Lorenzo has decided to abdicate since his fiance has fallen ill, in Monaco there’s a rule that the throne can be uncrowned for one year and it turns out Lorenzo abdicated in December last year.”

“So Charles has to take the throne?” you asked. “But he’s a driver there’s no way he’d… what happens then?”

She smirked. “That’s exactly what you’re going to find out! His Royal Highness is due back at the Castle this weekend, but in case he also abdicates, I need someone to write on it! There’s a press conference on the 18th, and I want your boots on the ground!”

“I don’t mean to sound rude, but why me?” you smiled, genuinely curious.

“You’re intelligent, talented, hungry for a story- also none of my regular writers are willing to give up their Christmas,” she admitted. You nodded, knowing you were a last resort.

“Thank you for this opportunity, I won’t let you down.”

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“He’s gorgeous!” Damon fawned over the pictures of him.

You shrugged. “He’s such a douche, I cannot believe people still find him attractive after all the stuff he’s done.”

“Who wouldn't forgive a face and body like that?”

You looked at the photos. Yes, he was conventionally attractive, but his track record of scorned girlfriends, and the semi-awful fashion sense (who , over the age of 12, still wears tie dye jeans?) put you off. “He’s not my type.”

He stared at you. “He’s everyone’s type. Everyone is a Ferrari fan, and everyone is a Charles LeClerc fan.”

“I still don’t see it,” you shrugged.

“You should try to seduce him! Make him your husband and just excuse all the cheating so you can be royal and rich,” he suggested.

“I do not want that,” you scoffed. “Plus, I’m not on the market right now.”

He groaned. “You two broke up a whole year ago. Don’t let him yuck your yum 12 months on!”

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You walked into Rudy’s, your dad’s diner, you couldn’t but feel the weight of the conversation you were just about to have. You had spent Christmas as just the two of you every year since your mom had passed, you didn’t want to just leave him alone. The regulars raved about the pies as you stepped in from the cold, snowy air.

“The usual?” your dad asked, you nodded and smiled, waving to some of the regulars you knew. “How are you doing sweetie?”

“Good, great!” You smiled, plastering on your best ‘i’m fine!’ face.

“What happened?” he asked, concerned. You deflated.

“I have good news and bad news,” you explained.

“Bad news first,” he decided.

“I won’t be here on Christmas- but, It’s because I got my first story.”

He grinned, pulling you into a hug. “That’s amazing! Your first real story! This is your big break!”

“You don’t mind that I’ll miss Christmas?”

He shook his head. “This is your big break, take it. Don’t worry about me. You go over to wherever, and you make me proud.”

You smiled, pulling him into another hug, and thanked him.

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The flight was long and uncomfortable, thus the joys of economy, and the dickhead that stole your cab wasn’t much nicer either.

You and the rest of the press were all then bundled into cars and brought to the palace.

“First time?” The reporter beside you questioned. You nodded your head, slightly embarrassed about the fact that they could tell, but he just chuckled. “Word to the wise, pick a new career.”

The rest of the car was an eruption of laughter, small agreements, or a scoff. You chuckled along, but you couldn’t help but feel small. You were the only woman in your car, the only new reporter, and-

Woah. Holy shit.

The Monaco Palace.

Any and all other thoughts were pushed to the back of your mind as you stared in awe at the beautiful structure. The wide windows and beautiful pillars, all decorated perfectly for Christmas. Though it wasn’t snowing (like back home), you did appreciate the gesture of making it feel like Christmas. You were enchanted by the palace, it stood tall on the edge of the bay, fitting in perfectly with the rest of the gorgeous scenery.

You walked in behind the rest of the press, a nervous energy buzzing in the air. Prince Charles was an F1 favourite, a master of the sport, and now he had to give it all up for the crown. Everyone was more than excited to see if he’d actually show up, which seemed increasingly unlikely as the moments ticked away. He did every single piece of press Ferrari or the FIA asked him to do, and he seemed to enjoy the majority of them, but the second the palace asked him to do something, he was ‘too busy’. It left a bad taste in your mouth. You were exactly a patriot, but you thought that one should at least appreciate the fact that they were a part of their country, and the people deserved to hear from their Prince, not only through sports interviews. He’d been photoshopped into the palace's Christmas cards for the past 4 years, for god’s sake.

You pushed your opinion of him to the side and turned your attention to the palace. The tall white walls and arched ceilings, the beautiful and historic artwork hanging off the walls, god, you’d give anything to be allowed free reign in here with your camera. Your attention was then grabbed by the PR liaison, Penelope, standing at the panel desk looking increasingly nervous.

After another 30 minutes of waiting, the repress started getting restless. Lorenzo was never late. Hervé had never been late. Pascale was never late. Arthur was never late. Charles was the outlier. He slept with too many women, drank too much, and ‘disgraced the crown’, according to the Monegasque reporters beside you. You didn’t care much for all of the gossip pages he frequented, and only watched F1 on the occasion that your father wanted to watch it. But, it was clear that he thought that following his dreams of being a racecar driver were more important than his duties, and while you understood the push and pull of having a dream, there were also expectations to meet, and he didn’t meet them.

“We regret to inform you that this press conference has been cancelled-”

She was cut off by about 200 reporters shouting and groaning.

You politely raised your hand, and all eyes turned to you. “When can we expect the press conference to be rescheduled?” You asked and the room was alive again, this time, in agreement.

“As of right now, we won’t be rescheduling,” she offered a polite smile as everyone collectively groaned again.

“Well can we at least expect a date at which he’ll be crowned?”

“He will be crowned on Christmas Eve, at the annual Christmas Ball,” she smiled.

“Which is a private event, so what are we to tell your people? They can’t see him getting crowned as their next king? No media are allowed in, no cameras, phones are barely allowed. What will your people think?” you questioned, your voice dripping with condescension. The rest of the reporters cheered you on, no one had stood up against his behaviour before. No one.

She faltered, and then the room started being cleared by security, much to the chagrin of the rest of you. You were kicked out, a collection of grumbles and groans, knowing Christmas was ruined because of some stupid Prince and his childish antics.

You couldn’t go home empty handed. You’d never get a chance like this again, so breaking and entering into the Monaco Palace wasn’t that bad of a crime, right?

You came into a long hallway, the marble walls and floors taking your full attention, until you came across a picture. It was the royal family, a picture of the five of them, taken before Hervé passed. Charles was only 20, Arthur was only 16. Lorenzo was 29. And they lost their father. In the photo, they’re sitting at a dinner table, looking happy. It didn’t look posed, or professionally taken. It looked like it had been taken on an iphone. Charles was smiling bright, his arm around his little brother and his father. Lorenzo’s arm around Pascale as she held Arthur’s hand. Charles was truly the thing that dragged you in. His bright smile, eyes crinkled at the edges, laughing so hard he must’ve felt sick. The way everyone else’s eyes were on him. He was like a magnet. Not because of his good looks or lovably dorky personality, but because of something else. He was just… interesting.

“Can I help you?” a security guard asked, his voice booming and strong. You jumped.

“Gosh! Sorry, umm-yes-no-um-”

“American?” he asked, and you were sure you were busted. But then he smiled. “Follow me.”

You followed him through the halls until you were in front of a tall woman with brunette hair. You knew who she was, her name was Georgia, the palace coordinator. She was terrifying to stand in front of. You’d never felt so judged in your life.

“You’re the new tutor?” she questioned. You just nodded. “I thought you couldn’t come until January?”

“My last job finished up early,” you lied. A sinking pit in your stomach started growing, but you just swallowed it. You’d deal with it later.

“Oh,” she smiled. “Perfect, I’ll bring you to meet him,” she smiled.

What were you getting yourself into?

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Turns out Arthur LeClerc needed a tutor to help with his engineering course. Thank god you’d dated that engineer who wanted to mansplain every single part of a car to you, and you could get by the maths with a calculator. Arthur wasn’t exactly a fan of having someone younger than him tutor him, he felt stupid, you could tell. You did everything you could to reassure him that it truly was alright to need help, and he was starting to come around, but every time you two really started talking, Charles would appear. And yes, Charles had been that asshole who’d taken your cab at the airport. Even more of a reason to hate him.

“Arthur!” Charles called up as you finished explaining a sum, which he was finally getting, but of course, Charles had to distract him. “Sim work?” he offered, popping his head in the door. You frowned. He was clean-shaven, unlike the small goatee and mustache he’d been sporting before. Objectively, he was attractive either way, but you personally preferred the facial hair.

He frowned back at you. “What?”

Arthur attempted to get up to join his brother, but you held him down to his seat with a hand on his shoulder. He sighed.

“What?” you repeated. “Arthur is busy with lessons, your Royal Highness, you can come back in 2 hours, when he’s finished,” you smile politely, though your tone was less than warm.

“2 hours?” Arthur sighed, looking at you with pleading eyes.

“I’m not the one who failed their midterm,” you said, matter-of-factly. He nodded, agreeing.

“Why did you look at me like that?” Charles smirked, walking into the study.

“Like what?” you asked, engrossed in the work, trying to decipher Arthur’s handwriting.

“Like you didn’t like what you saw,” he mused.

You scoffed. “I was just surprised by the baby face, that’s all.”

He frowned, making Arthur laugh. “Baby face?”

“You look like a 12 year old boy without facial hair, it freaks me out,” you pointed out.

Charles left the room with whatever dignity he still had intact, and you and Arthur rather enjoyed the teasing.

“Will you be my guest tonight?” he turned to you, discarding his work.

“What’s tonight?” you asked.

“Some boring drinks and dinner thing with the whole of Charles’s team, and other nobility. It’s going to be such a chore to go without you, please come?”

You smiled. “I’d be honoured.”

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You kind of hated the whole ‘double agent’ thing. You were getting on really well with Arthur, Charles was enough to stomach (in small intervals), and Lorenzo had been too busy to really meet. Georgia had been on you about different things, but you always had to remember that a) your name was in fact not Y/n, but Martha. And b) You still had to be a reporter. You still had to break into these people’s privacy, and make it a story. You were pretty sure what you were doing was illegal in America, so you were just hoping it wasn’t a crime here. As the night went on you snapped pictures of Pascale, Lorenzo, some of the other nobility and some of the important F1 drivers (a friend was doing an expose on one of them for cheating so… yeah). You didn’t catch a glimpse of his Royal (pain-in-the-ass) Highness all night, that was, until he made an(uncharacteristically (not)) late arrival. You also left Arthur to go hang out with his girlfriend, who had surprised him this weekend by arriving a whole week early.

“How are you enjoying the party?” Arthur smiled, walking up behind you as you tried to take photos of the nobility as secretly as possible. You quickly hid your phone.

“Very much so, thank you for inviting me,” you smiled.

“Staring at Charles?” he questioned, noticing how you’d been following him around the room.

“Trying to find something to eat,” you lied. Again, that pit in your stomach grew every single day that you were at the palace. “Not a fan of the meat-jelly.”

He grimaced. “Me neither, follow me.”

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Possibly the best gingerbread cookies entered your mouth soon after. “Wow,” you nodded, and he smiled back. You stared at him. “Where’s Jade?”

“She’s off with her friends,” he answered, but you knew it was a guess.

“Why are you being so nice to me all of a sudden? You hated me three days ago,” you chuckled.

“You’re not like everyone here,” he shrugged. “You’re normal.”

You smiled. “I know I’m, normal, btu so are you-”

“A ‘normal’ 24 year old who has a palace and a crown, as well as an affinity for racing cars. I’m so normal.”

You laughed. “No one’s perfect.”

Then a tall man, who looked a little bit like Arthur, joined you.

“Cousin Arthur,” he smiled.

“Cousin Simon,” he sighed, less than impressed with having to see him.

Simon looked at you, slightly confused. “Was your mother feeling charitable, inviting the chambermaids again?” he joked, but it wasn’t funny. Arthur didn't laugh, he groaned.

“She’s my tutor, actually. And I invited her. Mrs. Martha Whelan, meet my cousin, Simon.”

You stood up and held your hand out to be shook, but he shied away. “Nice to meet you Simon.”

“You can address me as Lord Dukesburg,” he explained, taking great offence. Ah, this was Simon Dukesburg, the man who has been after the throne since Arhtur’s father died. He said some of the most out-of-touch shit about Lorenzo, saying he couldn’t be the King because he wasn’t Herve’s blood-related son.

“I find that nobility who require someone to use their title might be compensating for something,” Charles interjected, making you stifle a laugh, whereas Arthur laughed out loud.

“And what might I be compensating for?” he scoffed.

“I wonder,” Charles smirked. Then someone else interjected the conversation and pulled the both of them away from you and Arthur.

“Simon hates Charles,” Arthur explained. “He’s ahead of him in the succession, since it goes by age, not actual blood relation, he’s ahead of me.”

“So if Charles abdicates, Simon has the throne?” you questioned.

Arthur nodded. You looked up at the two men again, and found Charles already looking back at you. You offered a small smile, which was returned, then you turned back to Arthur.

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“I'm really not sure there’s any dirt here,” you sighed, explaining it for the millionth time to your boss.

She wasn’t having it. You ended the call feeling even worse than before. Honestly, you were one day away from just leaving the palace all together and admitting your crimes. It was eating you up inside, you could barely sleep, barely eat. It was all a little bit too much for you. You understood that reporters had to be cut-throat, but god, it was hard work pretending to be someone you weren't, especially to people as kind as the LeClerc’s. As you walked through the halls of the palace, unable to sleep, you heard some piano music. You followed the sound and found Prince Charles at his piano, incredibly talented. Sadly, it ended the second he noticed you, about 30 seconds of you being there.

“Sorry for interrupting, your Royal Highness,, I’ll head back-”

“Call me Charles,” he smiled.

Slightly blind-sided, you weren’t sure what to say. “That was beautiful,” you smiled.

“Thank you,” he smiled, getting up. “My father made me take lessons. It’s a great passion of mine.”

“I’ve heard your father was a great man,” you smiled.

“He was,” Charles agreed..

“Won’t be easy to replace him,” you mused, hoping he would give you something, anything worth writing the story over.

“I’m not trying to replace him,” he explained. “No one could.”

“Oh god! No, I didn’t mean it like that- just… there must be a lot of pressure on you, I didn’t mean it…” you trailed off and he smiled.

“Well, you’re under more pressure than you bargained for, right?” he smirked.

Shit. He knew. Somehow. He knew. You were bout to get arrested by the fucking Prince of Monaco. How embarrassing.

“My brother can really be a handful,” he chuckled.

You took a deep breath. He didn’t know. You were safe, for now at least. You chuckled. “He’s actually pretty great.”

“After our father died, he took it very hard,” he explained.

“I lost my mom, same age and everything,” you explained, a flat smile on your face.

He nodded. “So you know what it’s like then.”

You nodded. “Holidays are the worst.”

“I’m glad he has someone to talk to.”

“So, now that you’re back… is it for good? Arthur talks about you all the time. He misses you when you’re gone. Is all that talk about abdication just… rumors?” you questioned, feeling like the worst human being in the world for manipulating this family the way you were. They were good people. Maybe yes, they’re rich and commit tax fraud, but good people.

He sighed. “It’s very hard to know what to do.”

FUCK!

Great. So there is a story. Ideal. It’s not like if he’d just said, ‘yes, they’re all just rumors’, you could’ve gone home and never had to think about the awful things you’ve done here, but now you have to stay, to listen to him. Great.

“I heard you didn’t want to give your… lifestyle,” you asked. “Is that true?”

“What lifestyle is that?” he scoffed, slightly amused.

“I don’t know. The women, wine, and cars?”

“Is that what you think I am?” he chuckled.

“I don’t know who you are, Charles, but if your brother is any indication, I wouldn’t exactly believe everything I read. Good night.”

And with that you left the room, feeling like a terrible person, and he was more than intrigued by you.

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Christmas Eve rolled closer and closer, and every night seemed to be one of celebration. You decorated the tree with the family (aka you sat in the corner not eating or drinking because of the guilt, and watched over Arthur, making sure he was alright).

“To family and friends,” Pascale smiled.

“And new friends!” Arthur called, lifting your hand. You smiled at him, thankful that you had a friend there.

“What are your traditions Martha?” Charles asked, turning attention to you.

“Well, my father and I light a candle and we bake my mothers favourite cookies,” you explained, a smile on your face. “I know how it feels to… have someone missing during traditions,” you assured Arthur, putting a hand on his shoulder.

Just then, Lady Sophia appeared in the doorway. Lady Sophia, Charles’s childhood best friend and the leading lady of the greatest will-they-won’t-they story of all time. She wore a beautiful long flowing gown with a present in hand for Pascale. She elegantly dodged cousin Simon’s advances (you applauded her for that), and went straight to Pascale and Charles.

“Sophia, it’s lovely to see you,” she smiled, pulling her in for a hug.

“It’s lovely to see you too,” she smiled, then moved on to Charles. “Charles, good to see you.”

Charles greeted her with his best flirty smirk, and Arthur turned to you, fake gagging, which made you both laugh. All eyes turned to the two of you for a moment, before you quickly shut up, and the greetings continued. Lady Sophia was staying for Christmas, how wonderful. Maybe you could get an early access to their engagement story- god you felt sick with yourself.

You turned to Arthur engrossed in the small toy car he had in his hands, a gift from his father, he spoke about it as you listened, barely noticing Charles over both of your shoulders.

“I remember when you first got that,” he chuckled, ruffling Arthur’s hair. “You were so happy with it, you wanted to be just like dad.”

“Now you are,” you smiled, squeezing Arthur;’s hand. He’d be moving up to F1 next year, in a Haas seat (Esetban Ocon shit the bed, oops), and Arthur was the next best Ferrari junior driver. Arthur beamed back at you, and Charles gave himself a moment to study you.

You were so gentle, so smart, so kind, so… you. He was entranced by you. You were some sort of enigma. He didn’t want to sound full of himself, but women did throw themselves at him, it was a simple fact, and you didn’t. You weren’t interested in him at all, in fact. It was refreshing.

“Charles!” Lady Sophie called. “Will you put my ornament on the tree?”

He (begrudgingly) took his eyes off of you and joined her at the side of the tree. Funnily enough, her ornament was a heart.

“Be gentle with it,” she told him, and he sighed, knowing it wasn’t just the ornament she was talking about.He placed it on the ree and when he looked back at you, you were already engrossed in conversation with Arthur about something else and he thought it best not to pry. You barely liked him as is, he shouldn’t push his luck.

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The day you get bossed around by Arthur LeCerc may actually be the biggest joke of your life. He found out that you were a journalist, and he didn’t even care. He just… wanted a friend, and for you to write the truth about his brother. Which you were happy to oblige.

So, instead of going over aerodynamics, you baked Christmas cookies.

“What’s with Charles and Lady Sophia?” you questioned, shovelling some of the batter into your mouth. Arthur shrugged.

“She’s had a crush on him for ages, but he’s never liked her back,” he shrugged, eating some of the icing. “She’s always trying to get with him though.”

“Simon seems to like her,” you pointed out, shooing him away from the icing (he’d eaten half of it).

Arthur groaned. “Simon has wanted everything Charles has had since they were 3. He even tried go-karting. He was shit though,” he chuckled. “But y’know, everyone wants what we have.”

You cracked a smile. “You are the royal family of one of the most beautiful countries in Europe.”

Arthur sighed. “It was different though, before my dad died, it was-” he cut himself off, trying to to cry. You pulled him into a hug.

“He’s not gone Arthur, you’ll always remember him,” you smiled, he nodded against your neck. “Come on, we need to get these in the oven before I eat all of the batter.”

He laughed, joining you beside the oven.

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The next morning was the children’s fundraiser, where everyone was expected to be a guest. You, again, were Arthur’s, Jade having left a few days earlier to spend time with her family. One of those asshole reporters came up to you, but he got them away, and you knew that by tomorrow, people would already assume you were his new girlfriend, or something along those lines, so you made sure to tell him to talk about Jade in interviews. After the wonderful carol service, Pascale came out to the stage and addressed the public, announcing Charles’s speech.

When she called his name, he didn’t show.

Arthur sighed, grabbing your hand and running you to the Orphanage. There he was, playing with the children. He looked so… happy. He was telling them about every corner in the Monaco Grand Prix, and telling them what it felt like to win it. They all sat around him, listening intently, desperate to hear from him. You took out your phone and took a photo, seeing a tiny glimpse of that same 20 year old boy from the picture.

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“Charles, help me understand why you were unable to carry out your duty today?” Pascale asked, exasperated with her son.

“I thought my duty was to those children,” his words bit through the tension in the air.

“There is much more to being kind than simply compassion,” she sighed. “You need to be strong, a leader. You need to be someone that those people can look up to and say, ‘that’s my king, and he can make the hard decisions’. Not someone who tiptoes around his duties like a schoolboy. Arthur had to give your speech instead. Now every outlet thinks your abdicating and giving the throne to him right when he’s on the cusp of his dreams-”

“I have dreams!” he shouted. “I have a life, I have a dream-”

“And we gave you 8 years to make it happen. You have to grow up now Charles,” she commanded.

“Mother I-”

“Do you seriously think you’re the only one who wants to run away?” she questioned. “The only one who has dreams, and feelings, and a weariness about everything?”

“I’m-”

“This has been the hardest year of my life,” she choked up. “Lorenzo abdicating, you off in god-knows-where racing a car that can’t win, and Arthur trying his damndest to make his dreams come true, while I deal with it all. While I ‘hold down the fort’. You have a duty to your country, but you also have a duty to your family, Charles. I have complete faith in you, and then some. You will be a brave, and compassionate King. But you need to realise that sacrifice is a part of life. One we may have shielded you from, and I am sorry for that. But you need to make a sacrifice here. Royal life isn’t the prison you make it out to be. You can be happy, and you will be. But you need to learn to be happy with what you’ve got, because you have so much Charles. You have your family, you’ll meet someone nice and then you’ll have your own. You don’t need to race cars to feel strong. You need to be yourself. The people of Monaco are looking for someone they know after a year of confusion and shock. You need to be the comforting voice. I know you can be.”

“I’m trying,” he whispered.

“I have faith in you. You need to have faith in yourself. Don’t try to be your father, be Charles. He’s just as wonderful.”

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Arthur wasn’t going to focus, it was 3 days till Christmas, and he was kind of like an over-excited child. You suggested an adventure, and that is how you ended up racing speed boats with Arthur and a few of his friends. You two won, of course, and he may or may not have accidentally shoved you overboard and made you hit your head. But you were probably fine. Probably. You two relaxed on the water for a while, enjoying the Monaco sun asn the sun began to set and all of his friends went home.

Then you felt something hit into the edge of your boat. Another speedboat. Driven by none other than Prince Charles.

“Race you?” he smirked at his brother, his eyes then landing on you. He stopped, almost doing a double take when he saw you in your swimsuit, his mouth opening slightly. You didn’t seem to notice. Arthur did and he rolled his eyes, hoping against hope that Charles and his master-manipulating ways would pass you by and go onto the next person.

“You’re on!” Arthur shouted back, reeving up the engine, and thus the great race of speedboats began. Sadly, once again, Arthur LeClerc is very much not coordinated, so he shoved you off the boat, again. Charles immediately slowed down, turning back to grab you, but he found you laughing. He reached a hand in, and pulled you up onto his boat, grabbing your waist when you almost slipped and fell. You were close, much too close. You could feel his breath on your face, his eyes staring into yours, the look of shock, but neither one of you was asking to stop. It was different, a good difference. He was right there, right in front of you, and you didn’t look at him with annoyance, or anger, or distance. One of those fleeting moments of the both of you truly just being yourselves. Well, you were Marha and he was the Prince of Monaco, soon to be King. He saw every freckle on your face, every small wrinkle line, every flutter of your eyelashes. He loved it. He loved being this close to you. He loved the way you were smiling at him, and once he’d started looking at your lips, he couldn’t stop.

Arthur threw a snorkel at the two of you, making you jump apart, you almost falling off the boat again (actually your fault that time), but you just fell into Arthur’s boat. “No fraternising with the enemy!”

And the race was back on.

Unbeknownst to you, Lady Sophia and Duke Arsehole (aka Cousin Simoin), were riding by on a perfectly sublime boat ride, and saw the three of you enjoying yourselves. You had joined Charles' side, winning against Arthur every time, and then you’d be swapped back, or Arthur would swap.

Lady Sophia didn’t like it one bit.

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When you got back to the palace, Lorenzo was standing at the top step of the stairs, his mother beside him.

“Where have you three been?” he demanded.

“Lorenzo, we were-” Charles began.

“Speedboat racing in the bay?” he finished.

The three of you stood there, silent and still, unsure of what to do next.

“I suggest next time that you ask permission, Ms. Whelan,” he addressed you, and you nodded quickly offering multiple apologies. “And next time, maybe include the other members of the family. It’s not like we've never raced in our lives,” he smiled, before walking off. You had a feeling they hadn’t seen Arthur this happy in a long time. You couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride in you, that you had been the one to help him get himself back.

౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊

Arthur was busy with his duties, so you were given the day off, the day before Christmas Eve. You needed to get to know Charles better, so you could right all the wrongs online about him. He was going for a bike ride, so you followed suit, clearly forgetting about the fact that you knew nothing about Monaco, and the limited cell-service was really helpful. Oh, and when you fell off your bike and cut the shit out of your knee, you really wondered whether it was you or Arthur who was clumsy.

“Are you alright?”a voice called out, a voice you couldn't quite place, until Charles was in front of you and taking a look at your knee. “This looks bad, come with me.”

He helped you up, and while Mont Agel was beautiful, you were in the middle of fucking nowhere, what was he going to do?

Bring you to his secret cabin, of course.

Literally, was this dude James Bond?

౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊

You sat outside on his patio as the sun set. He handed you a glass of water. You thanked him.

“So, now that you’re alright,” he smiled (he’d bandaged up your leg despite the thousands of times you assured him you were fine). “Why were you following me?”

You sighed. “I was curious about Monaco, and I didn’t want to bother you,” lie after lie after lie. You were continuously sick. Maybe that other reporter was right, maybe you did need a new career.

“You couldn’t bother me,” he assured you, an easy smile on his lips.

“So what is… this?” you asked, gesturing to the house. “James Bond hideout or?

He laughed. “No, nothing interesting like that. This is just my house,” he smiled.

“So you’ve lived in Monaco the entire time?” you asked.

“The Palace is a bit too much for me at times,” he explained. “So I come here.”

“That’s nice,” you smiled. “Why do you find the Palace too much?”

He sighed. “Everyone is always looking at me.”

“Everyone is away looking at you in F1 too, you have like, millions of fan-girls,” you giggled.

“That’s different,” he argued. “I’m a driver there, that’s talent and hard work, I was just… handed the throne.”

“You were born into it,” you corrected him. “And just because you came across something easily doesn’t mean you haven’t struggled. I mean yes, it’s a lot of responsibility, but why wouldn’t you want to be King of Monaco?”

“Do we have to talk about this?” he sighed, getting up and pacing the patio.

“It might be good for you to talk it through,” you told him.

“I can’t even go for dinner with my friends without it being an international scandal!” he groaned.

“Like, when you went out with Sophia?” you mused.

“That was different, she sold a story to a tabloid, and the media had a field day,” he sighed, slumping back into his chair.

“The media is what’s holding you back?” you questioned, feeling your stomach twist.

“It’s a bit more complicated than that.”

“Explain it then,” you smiled gently.

He looked at you for a moment, and for a fraction of a second, you could see that boy from the picture again. The magnetic, messy, smiley boy his parents had adored. The boy who worked so hard to prove himself. Then those walls went right back up and what replaced him was the man; older, wiser, and hurt. “Why bother? You probably think I’m just a spoiled rich kid anyway.”

You scoffed. “I never said that!” you argued, getting up and turning to him. “You know what you need to do, stop worrying so much about what everyone thinks of you, or how they’re going to perceive you. You’re a good person, with good instincts, and despite being actual nobility, you have morals, good ones, the kind that makes you miss a speech because you’re helping children. The kind that makes you worry about your little brother so much that you come home when he asks you to. The kind that makes you kind. Stop trying to be your father Charles, just be, Charles.”

He sighed, standing beside you. “You make that sound so simple,” he scoffed.

“Why isn't it? You’re a smart, talented, caring person-”

“Except when I steal your taxi,” he smirked, making you roll your eyes. He paused for a moment, his eyes shining in the low light of the sun. “I want to show you something.”

You stared at him, grimacing slightly. “What is it?”

“Follow me,” he said, taking your hand. He led you through his house, up to a room filled with books.

“You read?”

“After my father died,” he explained. “We kept some of the overflow of his habit here. He also kept his journals here. I found a poem, it was dated just before he died, I think he was going to give it to my mother.”

Frost a sparkle in the fields,

Twixt the frozen minarets,

Winter’s harvest, wager yields,

Heavy burden’s, the years debts,

P[out from a seed, an acorn’s gift,

Henceforth the truth will flood,

Darkness such a secret bears,

A love far greater than blood.

“It’s beautiful,” you smiled, reading the poem. Charles’s eyes were on you. You were so close, just like on the bat, just like he wished for every single day since you’d come into his life. He leaned in and you didn’t back away. You didn’t run, or lean in either, you were still, your eyes trained on his lips.

Then your phone rang, and off you went to find it. Part of him wanted to grab you back and kiss you, but even he, in his delirious love-filled haze, knew the moment had passed, and he would just have to wait until the next one.

As you two were getting ready to go back to the palace, he left to go grab something from his room. His father’s desk took your attention, and you obliged yourself. Hidden in plain sight was a secret drawer with a stack of documents in it. As much as you hated yourself for it, you took the documents back to the palace with you.

Within those documents you found out a truth, a truth so great, you had no idea what to say. Charles and Arthur were adopted as children.

What the fuck were you going to do now?

౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊

As you were walking through the halls with Arthur the next day, you saw Lady Sophia and Charles… kissing. Great, barf. Anyways. You had to finish your story, get something on the page, make this torment of a trip worth something. If you broke the story today, you could be out of there before Christmas, and their lives would be a lot easier. You thought about coming clean, but the thought of it actually made you vomit in your mouth. You were lost. You had no idea what to do.

So, you called your dad. What else were you supposed to do?

“Y/n!” he smiled, it was only a phone call but you could tell. “How are you?”

“Hey dad, remember how you said I have to take chances to win?” you asked.

“They are my words to live by,” he chuckled, understanding that something was going on. “Is everything alright?”

“What if that chance is going to really hurt people who don’t deserve it?” you questioned.

“I’m going to need more than that sweetheart,” he sighed.

“My story, if I release it, it might hurt someone who’s already been through a lot. I’m just…” you trailed off

“Sweetheart, I’m not going to sit here and pretend I know anything about the world of publishing and reporting, but I do know that you have to trust your gut.”

You smiled. “Thanks dad.”

“I’m better than a fortune cookie, right?” he joked and you both chuckled. “I’ll see you soon sweetheart.”

“Bye dad-” as you hung up the phone, there was a knock on your door. You tentatively got up and opened the door, only to find Charles on the other side, dressed in a Ferrari branded suit, a small smile on his face.

“Hi, is there something I can do for you?” you asked, slightly awkward and unsure. You didn’t really want him to look in your room too much, considering the documents of his adoption were literally on your desk, but alas, what would be, would be.

“I thought we could go for a walk?” he offered. “I can actually show you around Monaco, now that I know you want a tour guide.”

Your smile faltered. “I don’t know,” you sighed. The media had been stirring everything up ever since the boat, you were the ‘mystery girl’ being passed around by the LeClerc’s, and it didn’t feel great.

He looked at you with pleading eyes. “Please, just give me a few minutes of your time. I would like some company.”

“Sure, let me grab my coat,” you smiled, but it didn’t reach your eyes.

As you two walked through the streets of Monaco, he spoke freely about the beautiful buildings and people he knew so well, while you listened. You liked it, but it broke your heart slightly, to know that you had lied to the entire family for weeks now. But another part of you was grateful that you got to meet them, because you knew you had been changed for the better. It was also nice to see Charles be less… upset than when you first came. He smiled more, laughed more, and spent more time with Arthur, it was lovely to see.

He stared at you for a moment, his eyes darting around your face as you looked at the pavement. “Are you alright?”

“Do you often take the help for a walk?” you questioned, your tone soft but the words bit at him anyway.

“What?” he questioned.

“Nothing, it’s stupid. Go back to your story Charles,” you sighed, walking on.

He grabbed your hand, turning you back to him. “Please talk to me. I feel like you know everything about me, and I know nothing about you.”

“What would Lady Sophia say if she saw us walking together?” you scoffed.

“Why would that matter?”

“I saw you two,” you said.

“Whatever you saw, trust me, there is nothing there,” he pleaded.

“It didn’t look like that to me,” you scoffed. “And anyway, it doesn’t matter.”

“She was just… taking her chance again, even after I explicitly told her not to.”

“Sure,” you nodded. “It doesn’t matter anyways. Charles.”

You were both silent for a moment. He took the opportunity to study your face. The way your eyebrows creased, the tightness of your lips, the determined stare forward. He smiled. You were so smart, and headstrong, and right all the time (which kind of drove him crazy), but he loved it all. He loved you.

“I hope you’ll come tomorrow night,” he admitted. You looked at him confused. “The Ball. My coronation.”

You couldn’t do it anymore. You had to tell him. He couldn’t keep living this lie, and neither could you. “Charles, I need to tell you something-”

But he kissed you. Of course, he fucking kissed you, because he’d been wanting to do it since the day you arrived at the palace. He was in love with you, if he hadn't made that obvious enough, and yes, he kissed you, because the fact that he hadn’t yet was driving him mad. He didn’t want Sophia, he didn’t want anyone else, he wanted you.

And it was everything he could’ve dreamed of. His arms circled your waist, pulling you close to him, while his lips explored your soft ones, the taste of cherry on them. You must use some sort of cherry lip balm, and it quickly became one of his favourite tastes. Your arms slowly crept up to wrap around his neck, and when he pulled back you just pulled him back in.

This was the real Charles. The one who loved people unabashedly and didn’t care what people thought. This was that 20 year old boy in the photo. This was the boy you had slowly fallen in love with, without even realising it.

And it was wonderful.

౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊

Much to your chagrin, while you were off tonguing the next King of Monaco, Lady Sophia and Cousin Arsehole were busy looking through your things. Unluckily for you, they found something.

౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊

Charles sat in the driver’s seat of his Ferrari, half willing himself to man-up, and the other half begging himself to turn around. He couldn't though, not when he was this close to finally visiting his father’s resting place for the first time in months.

He got up and out of the car, your voice in his head telling him to get over himself, with that soft, perfect, smile on your lips.

He walked up to the grave, determined to speak to his father once again.

“I’ll take the crown,” he whispered, his eyes flooding with tears. “I’ll never measure up to you, but I will take it. For you and for mom.”

౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊

You stood in your room, wondering what the fuck one wears to a coronation.

Arthur stood in the doorway, smiling brightly. He frowned when he saw your dress.

“It’s this or pyjamas,” you dead-panned. He walked in, taking the dress out of your hands and sitting on your bed.

“How’s the story coming along?” he asked. “Nearly done?”

“Almost,” you huffed, laying beside him.

He sighed. “I’ll miss you when you go,” he admitted, more vulnerable than you’d ever seen him. You almost forgot how much he’d been through, his sunny demeanour always seemed to make you forget his troubles. “It was nice to have a friend.”

You turned to him. “I’ll always be your friend,” you smiled. “And I’ll be cheering you on in Haas, and in everything else you do. I think you’re brilliant Arthur, seriously.”

He chuckled. “Thank you. I hope everything goes well for you back in New York.”

“I hope so too,” you teased, wiping a tear off his cheek.

“I got you something,” he smiled cheekily, handing over a small box.

“Arthur!” you scolded. “We said no gifts!”

“There was no way I was following that,” he chuckled. “Open it!”

You slowly opened the box, inside there was a beautiful necklace with a beautiful blue topaz on the end. “Oh my god Arthur, this is beautiful,” you whispered.

“To remind you of the boat day” he grinned. “So you will never forget me.”

You smiled, your eyes cloudy with unshed tears. “I could never forget you, Arthur.”

Then in walked Jade, his girlfriend, with an array of gowns on a rack.

“Oh no,” you whispered.

“Oh yes!” Arthur cheered.

It was going to be a long afternoon.

౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊

You stood at the top of the steps, terrified of what anyone would say. Arthur had styled you (aka, Jade let him pick the dress) and while you thought you looked beautiful, you were slightly worried about what the nobility in the room would think. It had been fun though, an afternoon of being pampered and becoming friends with Jade was a lot more enjoyable than it was nerve-wracking. You slowly descended the steps, looking for Arthur, when Charles caught your eye. He looked beautiful, his hair perfectly styled, his suit perfect, his face perfect. He smiled up at you, excusing himself from his mother and brother to take your hand as you left the bottom step.

“You look beautiful,” he smiled, taking in your dress. IN all honesty, there wasn’t a word for how he thought you looked. Regularly, a look from you made his heart stop. This? A different level. He was enamoured. He couldn’t take his eyes off you, even if he wanted to.

You felt your cheeks heat. “Thank you,” you smiled. “You look pretty handsome yourself.”

He pressed a soft kiss to your cheek. “I will see you in there, alright? I have to-”

“Do what you need to Charles,” you chuckled. “I’m not running away at midnight.”

He smiled. “I’m glad.”

౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊

Despite the fact that it was a royal ball, it was quite entertaining. Different Duke’s and Duchess’s were dancing, letting loose, and getting pretty drunk, but you just sat with Arthur and Jade and laughed at them. The ballroom was magnificent, the tall ceilings and Christmas lights all around, and in the centre of the hall there was a 36 foot (yes, about the height of a telephone pole) Christmas tree, decorated perfectly. Even though you were miles and miles away from home, it was still nice to be celebrating with people you love.

As you were speaking to Jade, someone started speaking.

“Might I have the first dance, mon amour?” Charles asked, barely above a whisper as he wrapped an arm around your waist.

You turned to him, your face dropping. “Seriously?”

“Well, as long as you promise not to tread on my feet, we should be alright,” he chuckled, leading you to the dance floor. You joined on, doing a simple waltz (you thanked your father mentally for making you take ballroom classes as a child), and it was very sweet. It was nice to be so open about being close to each other, no longer shying away from each other's affections. You liked having Charles so close. He liked having you in his arms.

Win-win.

“I wanted to thank you,” he said as you waltzed around the hall. “I wouldn’t be accepting the crown if it wasn’t for you, so thank you for telling me to grow up.”

You chuckled. “I think you’re giving me too much credit there.”

He shrugged. “I do not think so,” he smiled. “You make me feel comfortable, you’re the most genuine person I have met since… well probably since birth.”

Again, that nauseating feeling in your stomach urged you to run away and hide from him, even though your heart (as mad as it sounds) longed to never let him go. “I have to tell you something.”

He nodded. “You can talk to me about anything.”

As he spoke, the music stopped, and it was time. He would be crowned King.

“Tell me after,” he whispered, as all eyes went to him. “Wish me luck.”

“You don’t need luck.”

౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊

“I dispute this claim!” Lady Sophia’s voice shocked the room and you. Charles was so close, so close to taking his rightful seat as the King, and of course, someone had to make it difficult.

“On what grounds?” the Archbishop asked.

“The grounds that he is in fact, not the rightful heir,” she smirked, smug as ever. “Prince Charles, and his brother Arthur, were in fact adopted by the late King Hervé and our Queen Pascale, therefore are not of the blood of the Royal family, as per this document.”

The certificate was taken from her, and shown to the Archbishop. “Where did you obtain this document?”

“I obtained it by uncovering a scheme by an American journalist, Ms. Martha Whelan, or should we call you Y/n Y/l/n?”

All eyes went to you as the room was full of gasps.

You knew you should've turned tail and ran, you knew you shouldn’t have stayed on when Arthur found out, and you knew you shouldn’t have fallen in love with the Prince of fucking Monaco. You were the dumbest person you’d ever met.

You didn’t dare look at Charles, knowing what his expression would be. You just looked down.

“Is that true, you are a journalist?” the Archbishop questioned.

You spoke confidently, though the regret was evident in your voice. “I am.”

The room was in upheaval. Everyone was angry, everyone was confused, and everyone needed an answer.

“And your Majesty, this certificate?”

The room went silent as Pascale began to speak. “It is legitimate.”

౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊

You were running out as quickly as humanly possible, trailing just after Charles.

“Charles, please, just let me explain-!”

“Explain what?” he spat, turning to you.

“I’m sorry. I never meant for anything like this to happen, and I understand that you never want to see me again. I just had to tell you I’m sorry, and the only reason I kept it up was for you and Arthur.”

“And you couldn’t have told me?!”

“Arthur made me promise I wouldn’t tell you,” you sniffled.

His face dropped. “He knew?”

You nodded, wiping away your tears. This wasn’t for you to be upset about. This was your mistake, and you couldn't fix it.

“Why wouldn’t he let you tell me? Did he know he was adopted?”

You shook your head. “He doesn’t know. And I don’t know why he wouldn’t let me tell you. I just… he asked me not to.”

He stared at you for a moment, and it wasn’t those same, shining eyes that made your heart leap. It was the cold, dead, reserved eyes that made you want to run away and never come back, that stared back at you. “I’m glad you have your story. I suggest you stay out of our lives from now on.”

And with that he walked on.

౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊

New York was colder than you remembered. You had decided to just go straight to your apartment, turn off your phone, and binge watch shitty reality tv shows until you could show your face in public again without wanting to sob every time you saw something that remotely reminded you of Charles and Monaco.

But something nagged at you. The acorn, the poem, ‘a love far greater than blood’. You didn’t understand it. So you spent about 12 hours working on deconstructing it, and you thought of something. Maybe it was your delusions after not sleeping for a day (or two), but maybe the acorn ornament could prove something, so you sent your findings over to Arthur, hoping they would make sense, and turned your phone back off, blocking all of their numbers and falling into a very needed sleep.

౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊

The next few weeks were full of clearing out your office (you quit), looking for a new job, and starting off as an actual journalist, not just cleaning up some sleaze work. It was nice, peaceful. Writing articles about things that mattered to you, things that would help people, things that weren’t a certain King of Monaco.

Life was good. Getting over your heartbreak was hard, but you were starting to believe that you might actually be alright.

You sat in your dad’s diner, ready to ring in the New Year, when there was a snowball thrown on the glass, and when you looked outside, there he was.

Quickly, you ran outside. “What are you doing here?” you questioned.

He shrugged, “I never got to say goodbye, or thank you.”

“Please don’t thank me, I honestly should be apologising again and again for what I did, I am so sor-”

“You opened a door that should’ve been opened years ago. Arthur showed me what you’d done. Half because I couldn’t believe he could do it on his own, and half because… I thought it was going to be a message from you. You blocked me…”

“I didn’t want to risk bothering you anymore,” you sighed.

“You’d never bother me,” he smiled, pausing for a moment. “Arthur misses you. So do I.”

“I miss you both too,” you smiled. “It’s nice to see you.”

“Y’know, a palace is a lonely place for a king, when he has no queen,” he admitted.

“It’s a good thing you’re an eligible bachelor then,” you chuckled. “Good night Charles, thank you for coming to see me-”

“I love you,” he confessed. “You made me a better man- you make me a better man. I don’t even want to spend time without you, do you understand that?” he asked, getting down on one knee and revealing an engagement ring.

You frowned, your eyes tearing up. “Charles, I am not nobility-”

“I don’t care,” he smiled.

“My entire life is in New York-”

“We can come back as much as you want.”

“What will the people think?” you sniffled, and he stood up, wrapping his arms around you.

“They’ll think you're a kind, caring, beautiful woman with a very intelligent mind, and brilliant ideas, who is loved very much by their King,” he whispered, then pressed a soft kiss to your cheek.

“We barely know each other Charles-”

“And yet I’ve never been more certain in my life. And I’m known to be indecisive-”

He stopped talking because you’d started kissing him.

Jesus Christ, you were going to be the Queen of Monaco, what a story that was.

‧₊˚🎄✩ ₊˚🦌⊹♡‧₊˚🎄✩ ₊˚🦌⊹♡‧₊˚🎄✩ ₊˚🦌⊹♡

a very f1 christmas! masterlist (2024)

navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

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anamelessfool · 3 months ago

Text

A Naming

Rated Teen, Papa Emeritus II’s Son and Family

Tags: Halloween Hijinks, Eldest Kid Anxiety, Suburban Dad Secondo, Disabled Secondo, Post-Retirement Life, Magic Rituals, My AU

CW: Underage Drinking

Dedicated to @kissingghouls thanks for cheering me on you’re my little Hell Pumpkin🎃 I’m on AO3 with all my other fics but Tumblr gets mad at me when I post links

Part One (of 5)

Oct 31, 2017

The Leider residence was the only one on the cheery suburban block that was bare of decoration. The house year round was neat, sensible; a single floor ranch with the occasional hearse out front. Neighbors thought the lack of decoration, especially during Halloween, was a choice made out of propriety. One would hope the family responsible for interring your loved ones would have a sober outlook on the macabre. Their entire modus seemed to be one of complete disregard for any happenings outside their own home. Unavailable, discreet, out of the way. A little fortress meant only for its occupants.

And in a way, it was. Its unassuming nature was by design. The patriarch of the house, known to his neighbors as Michael Leider, was a severe man in appearance and temper. His entire family was full of noise and cheer and life but he himself preferred to stay out of the way. The only completely peculiar thing about him was each morning just after sunrise he’d step out onto his back concrete patio and scowl at the sky. A journal would come out, he’d scrawl a few lines, and then return to his kitchen to make that morning’s coffee.

What his neighbors didn’t know was that the man had journaled daily about the weather for fifteen thousand one hundred and seventy-eight days so far, give or take a few due to illness or inconvenience. It wasn’t that neighbors didn’t know, it was more what they have not seen. Or were allowed to see. Mr. Leider’s life was carefully constructed, like the life of any true magician. He had been once the hub of arcane power as Papa Emeritus II, known as Secondo; master magician and the spiritual leader of the Satanic Church of the Void. The Void itself was closer to a true hell than any suburbanite could ever comprehend, but it had been a large part of most of his previous life. For over forty years Secondo had balanced this world and beyond this world. Spirits called to him, demons obeyed his commands. Now all that was left was the old practicum of documenting the weather, but this ordinariness was his choice.

Because a seasoned magician knows of the dangers of attracting attention.

“Yesterday…” Eden Leider’s eyes got wide. The half-nibbled pizza was abandoned on her plate as the eight year old regaled a tale slowly and with great reverence. “Yesterday…there was a kid…at my school…at recess…”

She was surrounded by her family, as always, in the kitchen strewn with handmade Halloween art projects. She had hurried home with her younger brother Sam from the bus and immediately wanted to try on her costume, only to be met with the torture of having to eat before she went out tonight. Pizza AND the green beans. If she was going to be doused in sugar later that night then at least some half-attempt at healthy food was a requirement. Her father Secondo had insisted on it.

“Oh I saw this!” hissed her younger brother Sam. “I saw this!”

“No you didn't you were in gym,” snapped Eden.

“No I saw, I saw the ambulance!”

“He fell…and his arm? His arm was like this!” Eden held out her arm crooked, a primal little grin stretching across her face. “There was his bone sticking out.”

“Bone sticking out?” Their mother Sandra lowered her pizza slice, her eyes wide in amused interest. There was nothing more she enjoyed than encouraging her younger children’s odd sense of wonder. It was like watching kittens attempt to navigate themselves out of a paper bag.

“His bone! Was sticking! Out!” shouted Sam.

The eldest brother Paul let out a too aggressive sigh, subtly glancing down at his phone on his lap. There was another message. He disguised his gasp as a cough.

Dana: u coming

Paul L: trying

Paul nervously cycled through his apps, arriving at Dana’s photo again. A perfect face, a winning smile adorned a photo of her in a theatrical costume. Below, her favorite quote that Paul recently decided was evidence of her profound understanding of reality: Let your mind start a journey to a strange new world! Let your soul take you where you long to be!

I will, Paul always thought.

His father didn’t even have to make a noise for Paul to know he was watching him. Paul looked up and met the Eye embedded in his father Secondo’s skull, white and shark-like. It was usually concealed behind a colored lens but still burned through all the same. Paul was not normally afraid of it, but in this circumstance he swore it could read his mind. It was something that existed beyond his father, an interloper perched on the man’s broad shoulder. The human eye beside it had its normal expression of cool assessment. While his father’s left eye expressed an understanding of the beyond, the rest of the body was that of an intelligent stoic. Someone not interested in seeing their son look at their phone at the dinner table. Paul smiled thinly back.

“We can't even have a jack-o'-lantern?” Eden’s whines came into focus once more. “Not even one?”

“I'm not encouraging anything or anyone to enter this house,” Secondo reminded her stiffly, releasing Paul from his gaze. “Our home is our domain and I keep it well tended.”

Secondo, known in the past as Papa Emeritus II and leader of the Satanic Church of the Void, had always been a serious man. Serious, but never humorless. His wife Sandra has gifted him a bright orange shirt that said “This is My Halloween Costume” and he wore it now as he cut his pizza slice with the grace of some sort of aristocrat. His younger children had dumped tribute drawings around him: scrawled images of him as a skeleton man surrounded by assortments of demons and pools of blood. Eden idolized him, and his youngest idolized his sister and so the two of them had become his most loyal cultists whether he liked it or not.

Paul took the chance to answer Dana back.

Paul L: my dad is

Dana: yeah

ill ask

Dana:🙂

“If you’ll excuse me,” Secondo muttered with a regal bow of his head. He unhooked his forearm crutch from the back of his chair and maneuvered himself to his feet, politely grabbing empty dishes to deliver them delicately to the sink as he left the kitchen.

Paul turned quickly to his mother. “There’s a party tonight and…”

Sandra smiled wryly. “I’m always happy when you want to be social. But your dad will have to drive you.”

Right. Secondo had retired to his study for an hour before taking the younger kids out. In Paul’s experience of suburban fathers, there was a seasonal quality to all of their domestic obsessions. Some dads fretted over lawns, or snowfall, or their collection of vehicles in various states of disrepair. Secondo’s special interest at this time of year was obscure arcane protections. Paul had never once experienced any sort of supernatural event in their home, but as he grew up he suddenly became responsible for helping his father with his weird chores. Burying recycled jars filled with nails and rat bones. Standing on ladders to hand specifically colored yarns around the outside perimeter of the house while Secondo commented on ideal placement. Collecting perfectly good specimens of mullein or rue from the side of the road with the shovel Secondo always kept in the backseat of the truck. In his mind’s eye Paul wondered what strangers thought of the impromptu highway gardening, or the digging, or all the rock arrangement. Maybe they assumed the teen was enduring some old time tough love father-son punishment.

Honestly that would be far less embarrassing.

Paul found Secondo in his office. The room was dimly lit, with scarves draped across the computer and all of his work things. There were more books and journals than wall space, and so some were stacked neatly in piles besides the shelves that went right to the ceiling. Said ceiling was stained with areas of candle soot, the walls doubly so. Secondo stood in the far corner of the room, the doors to an old TV hutch open to reveal the magical seat of his home: his altar place.

“Dad, can I go out tonight?”

Paul saw the familiar diagrams and charts taped on the inside walls, along with some twig and twine poppets right out of a horror film. Deeper into the hutch lay even more oddities: deer jawbones, rocks of Significance. Some desiccated bundles of herbs. A mason jar of old buttons.

Secondo was whispering something into a waterclear crystal skull. He lowered it and stared into Paul, the white Infernal Eye settling in to regard the teen like an old crow. “Hm?”

“Yeah uh…a party. It’s everyone from theater club. Tonight.”

“Parents will be there?”

Shit. Paul wrung his hands. “Uh…I think so?”

Secondo let out a puff of air through his nose, a wordless sign of him mulling over facts. He didn’t speak much, but his elegant movements and subtle expressions spoke more than any words could. He gently replaced the skull on his altar and closed the doors, tying a red ribbon across the knobs. Paul waited with bated breath.

“All your homework done?”

“Yes.”

“Are you certain?”

“I—” The two little ones bounded into the office. Sam launched himself at his brother’s knees and squeezed.

“Put our facepaint on, Paul!” said his sister.

“Yes, please,” Sam added. Paul looked up to meet his father’s eyes once again.

Secondo was smiling.

“What did Daddy’s face look like? I want it to look like that,” Eden insisted. In the bathroom Paul applied the white makeup to the entirety of her face while she frowned and got into character.

“I dunno, some kinda…skull or something.” Paul was deeply indifferent to their father’s past life. He didn't remember the pageantry, or the tours he was dragged on as a young child. He barely understood nor cared that his father was someone who wandered the space between two worlds, who channeled dark powers through his body, who captivated thousands with twisted tales of death and demons.

All Paul really remembered was seeing his father decline. He saw his father have days of extreme pain he chose to conceal, watched his mother help her husband as good as any nurse or wife could. As the Void wracked his body Secondo couldn't do much anymore. Couldn't play with Paul or carry him or do anything more than preserve himself for when he was on stage. So Paul was indifferent to Papa Emeritus II. In some way his earliest thoughts were of happiness now that his father could be around.

And they could finally all be somewhat normal.

Paul darked the hollows of her eyes with black face paint and added long lines across her mouth to simulate snagged teeth. He recalled the exaggerated lines across the jaw. Satisfied, he turned his sister around to show her in the mirror. She nearly jumped out of her skin the moment she saw the face that was no longer hers. But then she laughed wickedly.

“Oh I want to be a skull now!” crowed Sam, tugging at Paul’s clothes. “Make me a skull face!”

“No you're not allowed,” Eden said. “Pumpkin Skull? I'm the skull. Paul tell him I'm the skull!”

“Wouldn't make sense on you, Sammy,” Paul explained. “I'll give you a jack-o'-lantern face.”

“Yeah okay but make it scary,” Sam muttered.

Eden had worked for days on her costume. It was of course an homage to the towering glory of her father’s previous life, in miniature form. She had fashioned a cereal box into a decent miter. Secondo had coaxed her out of applying true upsidedown crucifixes to her outfit, and so wrathful skull heads scowled down the pillowcase chasuble and bats adorned the miter. “I'm a…Hell Priest.”

“She made it herself.” Sandra shrugged. “Turn around, honey, you're the cutest little hell priest I've ever seen since your father.”

Sam extended his little arms and wiggled his fingers, grinning. “And I'm a…Hell. Pumpkin.”

“My adorable little freaks,” said Sandra of her children, nudging Secondo next to her on the couch. Secondo had his usual severe frown as he watched the little ones scurry around the carpet and howl. Sandra addressed Paul. “And you're wearing that? To a Halloween party?”

Paul looked down at his jeans and band tee, old ratty hoodie and sneakers. “Halloween’s for kids, mom.”

“At least the shirt’s clean,” said Secondo.

“You two are really boring, you know that?” Sandra ribbed over the rim of her coffee mug. “But have fun? Extra fun for me.” Out of all of them she loved Halloween the most. It was a love of the macabre that drove her to join a Satanic Church, after all. Sandra held the work phone for the memorial home in her hand as her family got ready to leave for the night. She had selflessly volunteered to be on call so her brothers and husband could bring all their kids around the neighborhood. Then again, watching the goriest horror films at home without the prying eyes of her children was a decent consolation prize.

Sandra caught her youngest in her arms and brought his little body into a hug. “You know, you can die… but no one really stays dead on Halloween.” She immediately pretended to bite him all over, and Sam screamed and laughed.

“You're deeply unprofessional, dear,” muttered Secondo, yet a small rare smile hovered across his face. He gave his wife a peck on the cheek and pulled himself to his feet. “Let’s go. Paul, help me get your siblings in the car.” The younger ones let out shrill shrieks and jumped towards the door, grabbing their candy pails while already whining.

Sandra gave a soft chuckle, then reached out to gently touch her eldest son's hand. “Paul, have fun alright? You need it.”

Paul smiled faintly and returned her affection with a hug. “I’ll be fine. Thanks. I hope you…don't have to work tonight.”

“Same,” replied his mother. “But you got to take everything as it comes, right? Be always ready.”

“Paul,” said Secondo.

“Hm?” Paul had been staring out the window as they drove across town. Behind them in the backseat the younger kids were chatting wildly about all the candy they were going to eat later. By this time in his life Paul was used to drowning it out. Ever since Sam could talk, Paul finally got a break and Eden got a perfect little peon to hang on to her every word.

Secondo had both hands on the wheel as he drove sensibly. He never looked up from his task but he never had to do more than slight gestures or certain tones of his voice for Paul to know what came next. “Name it,” he said.

Secondo was talking about the feelings rolling around in Paul’s insides. From a young age this was a common ritual he shared with all of his children. Paul realized more and more that Secondo now didn’t demand a vocal response to this request anymore the way he did of the younger ones. After years of this, Paul had an automatic cool response to any sort of restlessness in his mind.

Paul let out a soft breath, imagining himself holding the feeling in his hands, like always. It felt prickly, hot. Torn right from his chest and squirming like an impatient puppy. So he looked down and named it. Apprehension. Worry.

The little feeling stopped jostling him. But there was something else tugging at him, gripping its sharp little teeth into his pant leg and pulling. Dana’s picture on his phone came to mind. He swallowed.

Crush.

The truck stopped, Secondo put it in park. High school kids idled out on the front porch of a large house cheerfully decorated with pumpkins and the warm glow of string lights. The little demons of feeling that tugged at him skittered away to wait in the shadows. Paul gave a weak goodbye utterance to his family and stepped out onto the sidewalk.

Secondo spoke. “And Paul.”

“Yeah?”

The intensity of the whitened eye in his father’s skull never ceased, even when freed for an instant as he blinked. “You are a person of integrity.”

Paul gave a half-hearted nod, slamming the door. He watched the red lights of the truck veer slowly away and occasionally stop to avoid throngs of trick-or-treaters. Now before the house, before this strange new world, his nerves began to circle.

Like it? Reblog it! Thanks so much, see you in Part 2…..

Next chapter link in comments!

#papa emeritus ii #ghost band headcanons #Halloween fic #domestic fic #my art #ghost scenes from the void #sfw fic #anamelessfool halloween #anamelessfool halloween start

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blues824 · 2 years ago

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Idia shroud with a s/o that is his arrange fiancée that is that descendant of Persephone 💖 is graceful and considerate. Although seemingly innocent, she is not one to be toyed with as she holds the capability to stand up for herself and do what is right as she is ruthless to those who had/ have wronged her..

But both of them love each other dearly depending on the situation both have a soft spot for each other but never play favourites ** cough** Persephone!S/O **cough** she will and has put Idia back into his place! Even if he is or isn't in his blot form! Last time she was mad mad... Idia unlocked a new fear.. his soon to be wifey once she turns 18! (She is currently 17) always a year behind him! :3

You will never know how excited I have been to do this. Female Reader who is not Yuu.

Idia Shroud

Your parents had agreed that you both would be wed once you turned 18. But you weren’t against it at all. Ever since you both were children, you both were happy that you would be married to each other. It was a young love that we only see in Disney movies nowadays… oh wait… this is Disney.

Throughout the years, you both went to the same schools. You would spend a lot of time at his family’s house so that you could learn more about his family’s business. After all, if you were to become his wife, you would be co-owner of the company alongside your future husband.

Idia was wholeheartedly in love with you. You were graceful, you were kind, it was kind of impossible for him not to fall for you. At his family’s estate, you had started a garden so that you could eat a bit cleaner. Your power over plants really fascinated your fiance.

Ortho became a younger brother figure to you. Idia finds himself super flustered whenever he sees you two hanging out. You spend a lot of time outside due to the nature of your powers, and Ortho also loves spending time outside so it works out. It was at your pleading that your fiance spent more time outside as well. But you knew that the curse on his family prevented him from spending too much time away from blot.

Then, you both got accepted into Night Raven College, one year apart of course. The unfortunate part is that you were accepted into different dormitories. He was a part of the Ignihyde dorm when you were accepted into the Pomefiore dorm. The eldest Shroud sibling had to admit that you looked absolutely beautiful in your dorm uniform.

If you ever adjust his dorm uniform, like the jacket for example, he will get flustered to a whole other degree. The non-existent distance between you two overwhelms him a bit. Then you grab his jacket lapels and pull him into a kiss. Bro turned more red than Elmo.

He does get a bit jealous when you tell him that you have a gardening club meeting and can’t meet up with him. However, he feels crappy when he has a board game club meeting and therefore can’t meet up with you. This puts your relationship in a bit of a distant stage, but ‘distance makes the heart grow fonder’.

Now, there’s the matter of his overblot. It was fiance against fiance in this situation, because you teamed up with Yuu and Grim as well as the other First Years. You were quick to shut him down though, catching him in a snapdragon and watching him struggle within.

In the infirmary, you were waiting for him to wake up. Once he did, you almost squeezed and kissed the life out of him. But before he had the chance to reciprocate your affection, you slapped him and started yelling at him for how he almost killed himself, Ortho, and everyone involved in the battle.

Bro has never been more scared in his entire life. He could consider it a near-death experience just facing the fire of your fury. You went from kissing him from relief to scolding him out of anger that he just started tearing up and apologizing. This made you feel bad and you wrapped your arms around his torso as you laid on him.

Whenever you lay on him, but the way, you place your hand beside your head on his chest. There, he sees the engagement ring that he gave you while you were a senior in high school and he was a freshman in college. His wife-to-be was always one year behind him.

By the way, you both show obvious favoritism towards each other. Not a lot of people are allowed at the Ignihyde dorm, but you definitely are for obvious reasons. Then, in your dorm, even though you aren’t the Housewarden, Vil does allow you to stay the night over in Idia’s room because you have earned it.

#twst #twst x reader #twst wonderland #disney twst #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #idia #twst idia #idia shroud x reader #idia shroud #idia x reader #twst idia x reader #twst idia shroud #twst idia shroud x reader #female reader #fem reader

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dreamofjoys · 2 years ago

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Hello! I really like your writing for a long time 😭❤ Could I request a headcanon of Malleus children who are angry with Malleus because they accidentally see Malleus bite the reader's neck, they think that their father wants to hurt their Mother, even though the two of them are just making out.

Sorry my english is so bad. Thank You So much🐉💚

— a/n: your english is okay!! also this idea is too funny HAHHAHAHA XD hope you like it ~

— cw: mentions of fingering, biting, licking of wound

Your children had decided to barge into you and malleus’s shared chamber, demanding to spend time with the both of you

They expected to see their parents doing paperwork, or maybe having tea time

However, the sight that greeted them was their own father sinking his sharp fangs into their mother’s neck, with blood dripping down from the wound

The children’s gasp had caught both of your attention

Malleus quickly retracted his fangs and fingers that were knuckles deep inside you (he could explain about the biting part but the fingering part is unexplainable!!!)

The eldest child immediately surged forward, pushing malleus away from you while the youngest stood in front of you protectively, not allowing malleus to come near you

“Father, how could you hurt mother?!” The eldest tried to tackle malleus down, but malleus was faster. He quickly stepped aside before lifting the child up so that he won't crash onto anything

The eldest was going to release their breath fire on malleus when you suddenly spoked up, "honey, mommy is fine! see?" you beckon to the "wound" on your neck, which appears to be nothing but your skin with no blood in sight

"Huhhh?? but we saw father biting mother! there's even blood!" the youngest protest before rubbing their green eyes, wondering if it was a hallucination

"Ye-yeah, I saw it too!" The eldest stuttered, a little afraid that their father is going to punish him for false accusation (and for attacking the king of briar valley)

"Hmm, maybe the both of you are just tired?" You scooped the youngest up in your arms, small hands circling around your neck as you walk towards your oldest child, who malleus has already re-positioned to hold them in his arms properly

You caressed the eldest's cheek, noting the tiredness in his eyes that is likely due to the harsh training of being the heir to the throne

The eldest sigh in content, basking into the warmth of your hand. Since young, the heir and their sibling have been taught about the difference between humans and faes

Humans are significantly weaker than faes in terms of strength, magic and lifespan, so it is important to use their power with caution when interacting with one

Upon learning that their own mother is a magicless human, both child had become super protective over you (Malleus was extremely delighted about it) They are aware that you do not live up to a hundred years, so caring for your well being has always been their top priority

"I see, it must have been lilia's harsh training." Malleus suggested, patting his child's head affectionately. " I will tell him to go easier on you."

"Im sorry for attacking and shouting at you, father" The eldest apologised, follow by a small sorry from the youngest. Malleus raised his eyebrow, finding the situation amusing. "It's okay, we all make mistakes. Besides, you seem stronger than last time."

"So, what did the two of you come in for?" You tried breaking the awkward silence, to which both of the child finally remember their original agenda

"Oh oh! We just wanted to spend some time with you!" The youngest perked up, getting excited all of the sudden

"Hm," Malleus paused. "We can eat dinner together. In the meantime, your mother and I need to rest first. We are both tired from the meeting just now."

"Yay!" Both of them cheered as you and Malleus set them down on the ground, watching them run out of your shared chamber, skipping back to their own room with excitement. It seems that the both of you have been too busy to accompany them.....

"What was that about?" you point to your neck area, where the supposedly wound was suppose to be

"I cast a spell on you, making your wound disappear when it's in fact still there...." green wisps of magic dissolves into thin air as the bite mark appears again

"Should we continue where we left off? I should teach our kids to knock on the door next time, so that they wont interrupt important things."

Malleus pulls you into his embrace, tilting your head to the side so that he can get a better access to your neck. He licks the blood on your wound, feeling your body tremble at the sensitivity

"Hey stop! what if they come back again? We won't be able to get away for the second time!"

#twisted wonderland #malleus draconia #twst imagines #twst x reader #twst #twst malleus draconia #twst malleus #malleus x reader #female reader #malleus headcanons #dreamofjoystwst #twst headcanons

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celestialdragoncookie · 5 months ago

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i said yandere three brothers X y/n

Dark dragon

Demonos cacao

Dark cacao

Yandere Three Brothers x Female Reader:

Hello everyone my name is Y/N cookie or once was Y/N L/N, I was born Korea and twenty-five years old. I am full time employee of the Devisastars Company one of the major leading companies of Korea and founder of cookie run kingdom, I will tell the tale of three psychos chasing after my precious dough life.

Flashback ( Several months ago):

I am a human was once, got hit in an accident trying to save a young childs life in return for the humble deed, it was repaid in the form of reincarnation yup rebirth second life baby. I was spawned literally spawned like a zombie in apocalypse games, anyway I was reborn as a maid in Dark cacao kingdom also known as the kingdom of emos and edgy cookies where the king of emos himself rule this place but he is not alone in functioning the place, he literally have two freaking brothers I mean brothers. The company programmed and created dark cacao cookie as a lone cookie with no parents nor any siblings here in twist of fate brought two brothers, oh well. The eldest is a freaking giant dragon cookie I mean literally a dragon oh man he is the tallest among cookies, he is very scary looking emmm very handsome too.

He goes by Dark Dragon Cacao cookie, is quite reserved type of individual always keep it to himself rarely talks use mostly handsigns. He is an Archduke just like his younger brother Demonos cacao cookie whom is also Archduke, his personality well what do I say is like cold blooded, hates guys tolerates females and execute femboys. He is literally the definition of a devil in sheep's clothing, I mean he is half blooded demon of hell like his father Yorichi. The most shocking truth I found that Dark dragon feasts on cookies at night when he is in hunger state also shocking revelation is Demonos Cacao Cookie and Dark dragon Cacao Cookie are hob cookies meaning they are part human and part cookies except their brother Dark cacao cookie who is a simple cookie.

During those hellfull days of being a maid, I have to several jobs that requires lot of force horse power and patience, it feels like doing several part time to meet your end needs. Escaping hours were very slow and steady, it took a lot stress and muscular cramps my dough felt it will crack any moment now , during those days I also tried to encourage them and gave them some of my time but they were just brushed me like I wasn't even existed in the first place especially that jerk of a Duke Demonos Cacao Cookie often teased and bully me but that didn't slowed me down as I was a stubborn mule. I tried tried never giving up, finally after whole ass months I managed to let them opened their icey cold hearts little did she know that opened the steel wall results in awakening the monsters and beast inside them.

One particular day, my position of the royal familys private maid shifted to warriors maid due to a certain snake. The snake with a sly smirk said that his majesties ordered me to shift your position to tend the needs of the warriors, as he eyed your charming body. You snorted in disgust, of course you were a rare female hob cookie yourself many tend to court out of sprite but politely turned them down. Affogato cookie cupped your cheeks forcefully kissed you, as you growled in disgust tried to shove him away but the make cookie was stronger then you tightened his grip before his hands could go further suddenly a large claw grasped on his shoulder tightened on it. With a painful groan look behind and paled from seeing the preceptor it was Dark cacao cookies younger brother Archduke Demonos Cacao Cookie. With his arms crossed his magenta eyes glared him, with behidding sign Affogato cookie paled and ran away with tail between his legs. You signed in relief and thanked him as Demonos Cacao Cookie brushed off with a slight smile before disappearing into the shadows.

As you tending the needs of the injured warriors, suddenly your presence was requested by the king himself this revaluation puzzled you because Dark cacao cookie only summons you in fire situation. As your presence appears in dungeons, looked around for his majestys presence but couldn't feel a single ounce of his aura suddenly you were grabbed through the waists from behind and shove to a nearby wall and wince in pain and shocked to reveal it was the king himself Dark cacao cookie as his purple tulip eyes looked at you with different light no it was not light more like void of darkness as it was inking to drown you into its depths. Dark cacao cookie licked his lips before kissing your neck and biting it to form a hickey, you tried to reason with him but in vain his reply shocked you to core.

" Now that we are alone, I will intended to make you mine once and for all. Your figure your touch and smile hunted me in my dreams, so much like a drug that addicted me to see and to claim you as mine. I will make you submit to me both body and soul".

Before he could do anything you kneed him in the family jewels as he groans in pain letting you go, this ticket allowed you to escape from the dungeons. During sprinting, you bumped into someone and saw it was Demonos Cacao Cookie.

His magenta eyes bore at your very own soule questioned your sprinting to which you answered him truthfully. Hearing this his eyes darkeened, took you off guard kissed you with intense passion and possession, you tried to fight it off but he was too strong. After long session of kissing, he let go for air his look gave you shivers he said with the same tone that Dark cacao cookie said earlier.

" You are mine and mine alone, my sweet princess can't believe got you before remember dear demons are selfish creatures, they wouldn't share what's thiers".

You punched him in face, by passing him in the process ran out of the castle towards to run away from the three brothers but your question where the hell is third brother, before your hopes in freedom could be tasted, felt a contract of hard flesh on your nape falling unconscious on the snowy ground, before your eyelids could closed heard something as the abyss covered you with it's blanket of sleep.

" I am sorry my mate, but you aren't going anywhere".

Current situation:

Now you woke up, chained to the bed like some sort of exotic animal but shocked you that in night goon suit. The suit reveals your body in beautiful way, blushing to yourself tried to struggle but the chains tightened even more. Suddenly a click of doornobe could be heard and came them your personal kidnappers the three psychos. Demonos cacao cookie sat besides your right as dark cacao cookie sat to your left as dark dragon sat behind you, forcefully let sat on his lap as he buried his face into your hair.

Demonos cacao cookie cupped your cheeks and cooed with affection " Wow my dear you are even more beautiful upon closer, all mine to take and play".

As he licked your cheek playfully which made you cringe, as dark cacao cookie rubbed his thumb on your bottom lip shivering to himself began to mumbles like a delusional madman. Dark dragon cacao cookie inhales your scent and growls in satisfaction as his eastern dragon waggs in delight.

" My dear beautiful mate, you smell like field of flowers, honey and tranquility. Your scent is so addictive like a drug, your mine to claim protect and play. Remember dragons are greedy creatures".

As the three came closer to your shivering fearful body, as tears roll down your cheeks crying to yourself because you didn't want to do anything to these monsters of a cookies. Heck you didn't want to carry Thier children, as throughout the night roar of dragon and demon could be heard mixing with the shrill scream of innocent making a horrible melody.

Shhhh, hush my dearest love you wouldn't get away from us.

#yandere crk #crk fanart #crk oc art #dark cacao cookie #Demonos cacao cookie #Dark dragon cacao cookie #Yandere Three Brothers

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razzle-zazzle · 5 months ago

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wait what's the betrothal au??

I'm glad you asked! The premise of the Betrothal AU, in a single sentence, is thus:

Cole and Skylor are arranged to marry each other by a contract made before either of them were born, and they take issue with this.

Of course, there's more to the AU than just the premise—how the whole contract was made and how Skylor and Cole feel about it are major questions I wanna explore in the AU, so I'll do my best to summarize them a bit here:

The contract was made by Chen and Cole's Currently Unnamed Grandfather (I used to call him Shane but I'm not liking that name as much now tbh); Chen had the upper hand in those negotiations. Like it was clear from start to finish who was in control. He initially asked for Lilly's hand, but her father threw a fit and managed to change the terms to "Chen's child will marry Lilly's youngest child by the time both are 20" (but with. more legalese). Because surely, Unnamed Grandfather thought, Chen couldn't possibly have children as an exiled-to-an-island war criminal, and surely, if Chen did find a way to father offspring, Lilly would have multiple children and her eldest would inherit the power of earth, thus preventing the earth master line from getting tangled up with the likes of Chen.

Except then about six months after Skylor was born Chen sent several baby pictures to Unnamed Grandfather to gloat. And Lilly only had Cole because she and Lou only ever wanted one child. So Cole and Skylor are engaged from... not quite birth because Skylor was born almost a year earlier and Chen waited to see if Lilly would have any other children, but definitely since they were both young enough to toddle.

Sooooo... how do Skylor and Cole feel about this? Well, for the most part.. they're kids. Yeah, they meet when they're both five and they're given their halves of a pendant and told that one day they're gonna marry each other, but at that point they were literally just children. Marriage was more of a concept to them, a silly thing they could pretend to do and think about that otherwise didn't really impact them. Especially since they only saw each other once a year (and Lou & Lilly would always throw a fit when Unnamed Grandfather took Cole to Chen's island. But Unnamed Grandfather is going to honor his debts, dammit, even the ones that suck).

But even as they did get to be kids, even as Skylor would eagerly await the 2-4 weeks every year when Unnamed Grandfather would visit with Cole in tow, even as they would run around the labyrinth and into the jungle and all over Chen's compound like the kids they were... well, Chen's a dick. Oh, sure, he wasn't trying to make them feel bad about the engagement, but he definitely wouldn't let them forget it.

So the marriage became a sort of inevitability, for Cole & Skylor. When they were 11-12, they had these cute puppy crushes on each other that they would not have had were it not for the whole "you two are going to one day marry and then spend the rest of your life together" thing hanging over their heads.

And then Unnamed Grandfather dies, and Lilly's fallen ill, and Lou is absolutely not going to go to Chen's island under any circumstances. So Cole and Skylor haven't seen each other in person since they were 13, and wrote letters instead.

So they inevitably drifted. For Skylor, the marriage was an inevitability, but one that she could deal with later—being Chen's daughter gives her way more pressing concerns to deal with daily, anyway. And it was the same for Cole—the engagement, when he thought about it (which wasn't super often) was a distant sort of inevitability, like a project due at the end of the semester that you don't think about until then because you've got assignments due now to worry about.

When Chen invites the ninja to his tournament, when Cole and Skylor see each other on that ferry...

Skylor had been sort of vaguely aware that she wasn't interested in Cole that way. From her memory, he was sweet and rowdy, and her only childhood friend her age. Not the worst person to be tied to on the legal level of marriage, but not exactly someone she was interested in. Seeing Cole in person for the first time in years, and connecting that familiar face with the most recent letters—it crystalizes, for Skylor, that she's not into him that way.

But her father always gets what he wants, and the contract is airtight. So Skylor grits her teeth, swallows her venom, and sidles over to Cole to test the waters. Hope he's not as into her as she remembers feeling about him once, when they were younger and friendlier and liked to talk about what they wanted for their wedding together while digging in the mud for cool jungle bugs.

Cole hadn't thought about his engagement as often—sure, he used the new pendant half that Chen sent him after the monastery burned down to finance every meal the grieving ninja ate at Chen's, and sure, he sent letters monthly at least. But the notion of marriage has become so distant and unimportant in the wake of Garmadon, the Great Devourer, the Overlord, and Zane's death. When he sees Skylor, standing off to the side in a cloak but nonetheless recognizable, it hits him—they really hadn't seen each other in years, and he doesn't feel anything romantic for her.

But Chen has Zane, or might have Zane and be lying—and Cole can't chance that. He needs to know for sure if Zane is alive, so he hopped on the ferry alongside the others, pendant half in hand in case it'd come in handy. But now that the reality of his engagement is staring him in the face and sidling over to him—oh, Cole just knows it's going to cause problems. He's always been good at running away from problems—but he can't run away now, can he?

so yeah tl;dr chen's a little bitch and cole & skylor are gonna have to try and work around that

#ask zaz #lego ninjago #betrothal au #skylor chen #listens to marina's ''are you satisfied'' on loop. thinks about betrothal au skylor. cries #she's using every bit of charm and manipulation she inherited from chen to play 4D chess regarding the marriage and how it'll go #trying to please her father as best she can bc it's the only defense that works for her #she's got luxuries aplenty but no real emotional connection with anyone that isn't awful and manipulative (chen) or #coerced by a situation beyond their control (cole)#so she's doing her best but also she's fully willing to screw the ninja over for her own safety #except kai starts to wiggle his way into her mind and cole's steadfastly loyal to the other ninja #and so can you really blame her for feelign a little like her life is coming apart??? when her father is reducing her to her womb and #pressuring her to deliver secrets abotu the contestants and a successful marriage and grandkids and every other little thing that he uses #her for‚ bc she's chen's tool first and foremost and a person in her own right second #so really her and cole rekindling their friendship really is a saving grace for her. a single bright spot in her life fr fr #these tags aren't super coherent but yeah. yeah #skylor and cole feeling that pressure from their predecessors (mostly chen being a bitch)#skylor especially bc she lives with chen

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darkdemeter · 4 months ago

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For Halloween, I can just imagine a bunch of shenanigans. People mistaking War as Red Riding Hood, Strife constantly changing costumes and going to the same house just to get free treats over and over, Fury being prideful and proud when people comment how awesome her “costume” is, and Death trying to make a scarecrow to scare away Dust which probably fails. Oh and with so many “grim reaper” costumes, the other siblings will tease Death over if he’s sired offsprings in the past.

HORSEMEN HALLOWEEN DARKSIDERS SHORT ISSUE

──────────────────────── TRICK OR TREATING WITH ↳ Horsemen x Female Child!Reader ────────────────────────

The mighty Four Horsemen partaking in the ancient tradition turned modern, Halloween. Once an eve that took serious and dedicated offering to celebrate the dead; now it's all about how much candy you can pocket before curfew.

Hey, it was all your idea. They're just along for the ride.

In the humble abode they're staying in for the meantime, kindly offered a place to stay during the festivities, Death is in the front lawn setting up an intricate and rather artistic likeness to himself as a scarecrow. It's going to most likely scare the poor kids away than it's original intended target of one: Dust.

Can the insufferable, lazy Corvus lay off for one night? Apparently not when his beak is jammed halfway into Death's brains by now. With pale, tensely angled fingers, Death bats and shoos the creature off his shoulder with a sharp tsk of his tongue.

Stepping out onto the front porch and down the few steps, you happily trot down the paved pathway and to Death.

You: "Look, Deafth, looook!"

Death turns his head and his eyes find you -- or what he thought was Fury. Almost identical if you asked him based on experience. Very close... In edition, a crafted replica of Rampage made out of boxes, tape and a lot of colourful paper accompanied your person at the straps resting on your shoulders.

Death: "I thought you were dressing up as a princess."

Strife: "Oh she was, and then she decided last minute she wants to go as a Horseman."

Fury: "Her Favourite Horseman."

Fury passes Strife with a wide, toothy and smug grin. Her step is lined with a prideful sway.

Strife is mumbling to himself: "Yeah, but not for long..."

Strife, with the knowledge that you won't catch him, he flips Fury off. War is the last to step out of the house, the doorway his arch nemesis as of late due to its narrower size. In his grasp, he hands you your bucket.

War: "You forgot this, little one."

You eagerly take the bucket and show a smile of tiny teeth.

You: "Thank you Wawr!"

Death: "Are we ready then?"

His siblings and you nod and taking the eldest Nephilim's hand, you begin your adventure of trick or treating...

Strife: *replacing elements of his costume for the millionth time* "Alright. Iet's hit it again. I know that old witch has more candy."

Death: "Leave it. Once more and she will call the earthly authorities on you for harassment."

Strife: "What the hell are they gonna do? Arrest us?"

War: "They can never contain us. We are the Horsemen. Beings of unimaginable power."

Strife: "Yeah. What he said."

Fury has taken up the responsibility of holding your hand and walking with you, making sure that no cars dare to cross your path. Meanwhile, behind you both, Death stands between his brothers. War is vigilant, on guard as he walks alongside Death. Strife is more taken with pretending to fight the many carved pumpkins along the fence line, the clutch of his pillow case almost filled to the point that he can't hold it closed anymore.

A group of fellow trick or treaters gasp in awe as they pass by. They comment on how well done Fury's costume. Of course, the compliments make her head rise higher and her saunter becomes more pronounced and cocky. You cannot help but mimic her, after all, you are Fury for Halloween. The passing group then reminisce and giggle, adoringly calling out that they admire the recasted version of Red Riding Hood; mistaking War's attire as such a costume.

Beneath the shadow of his cowl,. his cheeks bloom with a pinkish hue. He scowls to his brothers.

War: "I'm not this... Red Riding Hood!"

Sympathetic to his youngest sibling's struggles, Death merely offers a pat to the hooded rider's shoulder.

Death: "I think we ought to retire for the night."

Strife: "What?!"

War: "Oh thank the Creator..."

Fury halts and turns slowly to glare at Death, almost accusing at the oldest brother.

Fury: "Tired already? You must be going soft if your old bones have tired out already."

Death's eyes narrow into a pointed glare in return. He growls, low and deep.

Death: "No. But it's getting late and I don't want Strife's sugar high keeping her up any longer."

Strife: "Uh huh. Sure. It isn't because we're at ninety-six and counting little reapers? Death... you dog."

The spike haired rider chuckles and elbows Death in his rib.

Fury smirks as she rests a hand on her hip, still holding form to your hand assuridly.

Fury: "That's a good point, Brother. Death, you never exactly told us you sired so many offspring."

Death: "They're not my offspring!"

War: "This is hardly the place to talk about this matter. It is probably best that we return."

You hurridly approach Death and stop with a small breath, the box version of Rampage madly moving about as you ran.

You: "Just a few mowr, pweaaaase?"

Despite the obvious sign that you're bucket is full to its completion - as had been the deal that you'd go until your bucket was full - it was hard for the Horsemen to deny you anything.

Especially Strife and War. Right from the get-go you had them wrapped around your fingers and only recently had you snagged Fury after proclaiming how pretty she was, that she was your favourite Horsemen. Death was next and it was beginning to show in the wane of his resolve.

When you give him that large, dazzling and puppy-like eyes that glisten ever so slightly with tears, he sighs.

Death: "Alright. Who's next?"

With a beaming grin, you and Strife unfurl the map you created earlier that day, the page scrawled with crayons of the many locations you planned to go for your trick or treating. Now to hit the last few locations...

#dem's inbox reply #darksiders #darksiders x reader #horsemen halloween

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thecarrionwitch · 26 days ago

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3 Years.

I give them all three years.

So call this a moment of reflection sure, but as I'm trying to get everything done I'm connecting to water and I'm thinking to myself how I only have three years left in me.

Oh but let me explain..

Upon dealing with the life that I have lived. Surviving Cocsa, family related SA, self harm, verbal and emotional abuse, isolation from being treated as a stranger in the family.. I've made a mental decision.

I have two family members that I'm willing to keep in my life right now, no others and that's my mom and the youngest brother. Everyone else is on a scale with of course the eldest 'sibling' and the one that sa-ed me for years being on the bottom which are people I wouldn't even spit on if they were on fire. The middle is neutral with my mom and the youngest sitting at the middle top. Bro being higher than Mom but this post is basically about her so keep tuned. At the top of the list.. can you guess who it is?

No one.

At least not fully, not yet, but if I'm allowed to finally live my life and stop dealing with crappy situations, family, friends, partners, etc, I'll definitely be the one on top because I find that my life is one that's a rather good example of how humans at times are meant to put themselves at the top of this list. Those of us who have over selves over and over and over again times a hundred.. I feel like our lesson is that yes while not everyone is out to get us.. we come from crazy, harmful, and tragic backgrounds where if we weren't the ones being harmed we were the ones being blamed for how other people hurt others. I've heard the term scapegoat but I'll have to look more into it, it makes me think of that. We are are vents for both good and bad people but the lesson is realizing someone is bad for you and cutting them completely from your life before they leave you to bleed on your own.

I get this which is why I said three years.

As a witch who found the craft due to how hurt I was and wanting some ounce of power for myself, I've been in the practice for two to three years now and I've found lesson after lesson after lesson.

This one feels like "cut things off, even those that sit in the middle". I guess I'm venting, just need to let it off my chest but the brother I'm cool with is in the middle, he has potential to go higher and I'm sure he will. My mom is also in the middle, a bit lower than him but there because I love her and I believe that she CAN change, it'll just take a lot of sacrifice on her part because these are things and people she's always had a hard time cutting loose. Thing is, with everything I've gone through.. everything I've suffered with.. I can't help the feeling that if she does change and change for the better like cutting these abusive sons of hers off for life then I can not allow myself to stay around her any longer after three years.

Does this sound right? Make sense? I'm sure it does but I do want to hear others thoughts especially of us that are spiritual or witchy who may have had to cut anyone off in a similar way to this. I want to hear your stories.

Moving on though, I've always felt like I either wasn't made to be on this planet or that my time would always be discredited and thrown aside because of others. I'm tired of it, and I want better for myself and the things and people I care for until the day I pass from this place. I originally told myself ten years but no. That's too long, I should have every answer in the book by three. Now to see which one will be chosen. Ten years I have many dreams, and considering I grew up self harming that means a lot to me deep down in my spirit but being around people that remind me of why I feel that way in the first place is the problem. It's my choice on when I leave or if I'll stay, but with these dreams and me wanting to simply enjoy the rest of my life later, I can only give. Three more years at max, a month or two at minimum.

💫

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katierosefun · 2 years ago

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just got emotional thinking about what hjw might've had to go through in the year away from manyang, he was probably pestered by medias, having to deal with the trials and all the talks and whispers behind his back or even straight at his face. If i got the context right betraying his father was abig deal, yes many would praise him but many would shame him for being disrespectful and not filial. I'm sure hkh had big supporters in the force, corrupted people that wanted influence, power and wealth, they probably got mad at hjw for cutting short their connection and the future career advancement. All this might have reminded hjw how his life was before everything happened (my god something like "good things aren't bound to last") but after the time spent in manyang he changed, he got to experience love and closure, a found family and going back to his old habits might have felt so alienating now? he'd realize how cold and lonely that life was and struggling all the more due to it. I'm so glad he managed to fight his anxiety and fear and return to manyang + I'm fairly sure that once he saw that the people there still love him and welcomed him with open harms, he'd go back to stay. sorry if i wrote a lot but i wanted to share my feelings with someone who could understand and loves hjw too❤️

yeah, i was always incredibly fascinated by what might have happened in that year han joo won was away, and why i also just. think that han joo won probably really couldn't show his face not just because he probably felt a lot of shame, but also like. i dunno. my personal thought is that he was a fuckign mess for a little bit--like, the man you're in love with is also the man that you arrested, and the little community of people who cared about you can't possibly still love you now, not when you're the reason why their favorite person is going to go away . . .

and i feel like there definitely were a lot of people who probably looked askance at joo won to be like "how could you do that to your own father" or maybe other people who tried to swoop in and promote joo won for the sake of saving face, and i like to think that joo won was just like. blank-faced through it all. and just like, the thought of him running away from seoul and trying to go to a place where no one knows him is. yeah.

and also, i forget who might have said it, but there's also some speculation about whether joo won's the one turning down promotions or maybe joo won just never gets a promotion because maybe his name's also lowkey blacklisted since everything that happened with his dad. i like to think that it's joo won who keeps turning down promotions--maybe he's terrified that he'll ever really turn into his dad, because i don't think he ever will, but i do think that a small part of joo won will always still think about what greed and power can do to people, and he probably doesn't want even the littlest taste of that. (granted. han ki hwan was always a bad person, i think--you don't clamber up to the top with that kind of attitude unless there's already something broken inside of you, but i think. joo won would still. try to run from it.)

(especially since like. i think a lot about joo won hearing han ki hwan's conversation, what with han ki hwan being like "oh, joo won wants to think he's like me, but he's actually more like his mom", and seeing the fury but also the genuine pain on joo won's face because. yeah. as much as joo won scoffed at the mention of his dad even in the beginning, i think. it's the curse of certain children--the only child, the eldest child--to be like the father, especially when the mother is deemed weak or just out of the picture. little boys and little girls want to be the behemoth of a man that their father is; they want to be cold, logical, infallible. and i think as much as joo won hated talking about his dad, i look at how, esp. in the beginning of the show, he tried so hard to project that kind of attitude, with the whole "i don't need friends / i don't trust anyone / you have to be logical" when we so clearly see. how lonely he is and how he. still trembles a little bit when his dad yells at him and how he peers in through the windows of the shop like he's an alien. or maybe a very curious, kind of timid cat.)

so all that to say: yeah, i feel you anon. i love han joo won so much, and i love how beyond evil is just as much a story about joo won learning to fall into this beautiful (but slightly broken) community, and how i think. he must have healed along the way :'))

#answered #anon #beyond evil #i just!!! han joo won . . .. is so . .. . i love him so much #and i just. yeah.#something about how in the script book #han joo won had never seen his dad but when he graduates to the top of police university #his dad claps for him and joo won just thinks 'is that all it took.'#and joo won thinking that was funny but also in an awful way #i could write circles and circles around joo won's relationship with his dad #something about 'i hate you' 'i want to be like you' 'i will never forgive you' 'i talk to people the way you do now'#'you are the reason why i don't have a home' 'i still hated it when you pretended not to know me'#'i can't ever ask you for help' 'i am begging you to just tell me the truth let me help you' 'you are the devil himself'#'please. redeem yourself for ONCE' 'i hope you die i hope you die i hope you die' 'i will shoot you in my childhood house'#'i will still ask to be updated on the rest of your life' 'i hate you. i hate you'#'i don't love you but i also feel responsible for you somehow and is that the closest we'll get to familial love? is it?'#or whatever whatever whatever!!!#something about how han joo won's relationship with his dad. is probably the realest one to me out of all the kdrama family relationships #with objectively awful fathers #something about fathers who are awful and absent and greedy and yet #the child still. still desperately wants something even if they hate their father. like.#everyone hush i know this because han joo won rants to me when he's sad

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saellefanwork · 1 year ago

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𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕋𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕤 𝕠𝕗 𝕋𝕚𝕞𝕖

Reminder: This fic is rated Mature (adults only) for canon-typical violence and eventual suggestive or explicit sexual content

Return to Chapters List

Chapter 2: Our First Encounter

Rengoku Kyojuro encounters Kanoko for the first time merely a few weeks prior to his participation in the Final Selection. During their initial meeting, they engage in a spirited sparring session. They forge a deep connection in a remarkably short span of time.

Author Note: We go aboard the Flashback Arc for a few chapters, developping the relationship between Kanoko/the Reader and Kyojuro.

Seven years ago

"A smile that constant surely hides something," was the first thought that crossed your mind when you met Kyojuro for the first time.

It was a spring morning, and you were training alone with your wooden sword in a meadow not far from your family home on the outskirts of Ebara-gun when a powerful voice interrupted you.

"What an astonishing technique! What Breathing style do you use?!"

You turned around to face a boy about your age. His rebellious blond hair with red streaks gave off the impression of encountering a fiery spirit. The locks reached just above his shoulders, with a section tied up in a small high ponytail. His ruby and golden eyes, with white pupils like molten metal, sparkled as they gazed at you. He had a bokken fastened to his hakama belt.

Just by his unique appearance and age, you already knew who he was. The Rengokus, residing in the neighboring village of Komazawa, were celebrities in Ebara-gun due to their distinctive features and unparalleled wealth. You were also aware of their true occupation—a lineage of elite Demon Slayers. So, was the eldest son coming here to train as well?

You smirked, resting the back of your bokken on your shoulder. It wasn't particularly respectful to the sword, even if it was just a prop, but your admirer didn't seem to mind as he eagerly awaited your response.

"Rengoku Kyojuro-san, right? I'm Nagase Kanoko, a Time Breathing user. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"The pleasure is mine! It seems you already know who I am, even though I have never heard of Time Breathing or the Nagase family as a lineage of Demon Slayers. I feel quite embarrassed!"

"It's not surprising. We are the only users of this Breathing style, and we are not affiliated with the Corps."

"Oh, is that so?! May I ask why?"

What a peculiar boy. He was very loud while speaking. Was it a sign of nervousness? Yet, he didn't appear intimidated by your presence at all. Perhaps it was simply a reflection of his enthusiastic nature.

"Unlike the Slayers, we have no master above us," you replied, raising your head with pride. "We hunt demons on our own. The men in my family are swordsmiths, and the women are demon hunters. We don't need anyone. Since we share the same goal as the Kisatsutai, we tolerate each others, but there's no particular fondness between us. Your father must be aware of our existence; you can ask him."

"I see!" Kyojuro exclaimed with a smile. "So, we are like rivals then! Let's spar together! I want to witness the power of that Time Breathing of yours!"

"Alright, you've asked for it! Prepare yourself!"

Training with a Rengoku presented an extraordinary opportunity that you were determined not to let slip away. With your heart pounding, you positioned your sword in front of you, assuming the classic chūdan stance, while carefully studying your opponent.

Kyojuro mirrored your movements, adopting a similar pose, and before you could fully appreciate his unwavering guard, he vanished from your sight.

What a remarkable speed! You barely caught a glimpse of him on the side, poised to strike his bokken down upon your head. In a swift inhalation, you tensed your muscles.

Time Breathing, First Form: Morning Angelus.

The impending strike seemed to slow down, granting you enough time to observe Kyojuro's concentration faltering under the influence of your breath. The altered pace allowed you to evade the blow that would have resulted in a painful impact and adjust your posture to execute a slashing attack from bottom to top. However, he proved faster in his reflexes than you had anticipated, managing to adjust his attack mid-air and deflect your strike just before it could connect with his chin.

A few more exchanges followed, the dull thuds of the bokken echoing through the meadow. While holding your ground against a Rengoku was an impressive feat in itself, you couldn't help but feel infuriated that he had yet to employ his Breathing techniques. It agitated you to no end—did he not even deem you worthy enough to warrant their use?

His stance suddenly shifted, and you heard him inhale sharply, a fleeting moment that signaled the ignition of his next attack. Finally! You, too, sucked air into your lungs, prepared to execute any of the seven forms of your Breathing style.

His bokken erupted into flames as he launched a horizontal slash towards you. Anticipating your parry and counter-attack, you readied yourself, but he swiftly changed techniques, catching you off guard.

Flame Breathing, Third Form: Blazing Universe!

Time Breathing, Fourth Form: Death Knell Tolls!

The ominous tolls of your technique resonated heavily in the air, but it was too late—your muscles wouldn't allow you to strike him before he did. The blazing bokken was on the verge of colliding with your forehead, threatening to scorch your scalp.

However, displaying the prowess of a brilliant swordsman despite his youth, Kyojuro abruptly halted his strike and extinguished the flames. Only the searing breath of the impact ruffled your hair as you instinctively closed your eyes.

To his surprise, Kyojuro, who believed himself victorious, noticed that your bokken had also made contact with his neck, precisely where the carotid artery lay. Had real katanas been employed, both of you would have met a fatal end.

"Impressive!" he exclaimed, taking a step back, his excitement palpable. "You could easily join the Kisatsutai! Wouldn't you like to come to the Final Selection with me?"

"Ha... no, thanks. It goes against my family tradition anyway," you mumbled, a mix of awe and slight annoyance washing over you for not emerging as the clear victor. If your grandparents were to discover that you had challenged a Demon Slayer, especially a Rengoku, without the assurance of winning, they would surely be infuriated. They staunchly believed that nothing should tarnish the reputation of excellence upheld by solitary hunters.

Fortunately, you had no intention of divulging the details of this encounter to them.

"When are you going to participate in the Final Selection?" you inquired.

"In two weeks!"

Kyojuro glanced at the position of the sun in the sky, its reflection shimmering in his bright eyes.

"I have to head back home! See you tomorrow!"

"Wait, I..."

"Good evening, Himawari-san. Thanks again for the training!"

While he tried to be polite, it seemed that he wasn't inclined to let others speak until the end. He hadn't even said your name properly. You stood there, taken aback, as he energetically ran off as if your intense duel hadn't just taken place. He possessed remarkable endurance... Was this what it meant to be a child blessed by the gods? Despite feeling a sense of envy, a small voice reminded you that such comparisons were twisted. As the eldest in a renowned lineage of Demon Slayers, he likely faced his own personal struggles. Besides, talent alone couldn't explain his level of skill at such a young age—it must have required rigorous training. Massaging your sore muscles, you decided to linger in the meadow, replaying the fight in your mind and contemplating how you could have emerged victorious.

The following day, you adjusted your schedule to ensure that you would be in the clearing around the same time. As he had promised, Kyojuro appeared. "Good morning, Himawari-san! Are you ready for training?!" he greeted.

"My name is Nagase Kanoko, Kyojuro-san. Remember it properly, or should I smash it inside that head of yours?" you asked playfully.

He laughed at your provocation, clearly enjoying your spirit, and promised he would do his best to call you by your real name.

You swiftly engaged in sparring. The exchange was less exploratory than the previous day, with both of you striving to exploit each other's weaknesses. It was evident that Kyojuro had continued training while reflecting on your previous duel. However, after a few exchanges, you were the first to find an opening and immediately seized the opportunity. Your strike landed forcefully on his shoulder, lacking the finesse to soften the impact as you were carried away by your determination to hit him. The collision was so brutal that for a moment, you feared you had broken his collarbone.

"Sorry, Kyojuro-san! I was so focused on landing the strike that I didn't manage to cushion the blow..." you apologized, stumbling over your words. Anxiety and guilt gripped your heart. What would the rumors say if they discovered that you had injured the son of a Hashira? You sincerely hoped that this incident would not have any repercussions on your family...

"No worries, I've endured far worse!" he reassured you with a thunderous laugh. "And I'll face even greater threats when confronting demons! So feel free to give it your all!"

Despite his reassurance, you found little comfort in his words, even though you acknowledged their truth. This bruise was nothing compared to the trials that awaited him. You bit your lip and dampened your handkerchief with water from your wooden canteen.

"Still, partners shouldn't harm each other. Put this on your bruise to reduce the swelling... I am truly sorry. Let's take a break."

"Hmm! By the way, you handle the sword exceptionally well, Kanoko-san! I'm grateful to have found someone as skilled as you to train with. Progressing alone can be quite challenging at times."

"Are you the only disciple of the current Flame Pillar? It must be hard... but consider yourself fortunate to be able to train with a Hashira of your own Breathing style! Your father has quite the reputation!"

You sensed from his expression that the topic was unwelcome, as his smile momentarily faded. His gaze darkened, and he clenched his fists, displaying more frustration than anger. Observing him with a puzzled expression, you were about to apologize when he continued, his smile forced:

"Ah... My father is a formidable warrior, but unfortunately, he supervises me less and less! In compensation, I diligently study the three kata books written by my ancestors, which detail the usage of the Flame Breathing forms. I also train with my younger brother, although he's still in the early stages of his sword apprenticeship."

Before you could delve further into the conversation, he pointed to the position of the sun.

"Speaking of which, I have to head back home and prepare dinner. See you tomorrow!"

He departed without waiting for your response, waving his arms in farewell as he hurried away, a broad smile adorning his face. As you watched him vanish into the distance, you made a silent promise to yourself to remind him to give you a chance to respond... even though you weren't entirely sure if he would listen to you anyway.

As you strolled along the path flanked by cherry trees that led to your home, you reflected on what the boy had told you... like how he often trained alone and appeared to cook for his younger brother (and even his father?). In many traditional Japanese families, the mothers prepared meals for their husbands and children. However, it was widely known in Ebara-gun that Rengoku Ruka had passed away a year ago. Given the esteemed status of the Rengoku family, why didn't they have servants to handle their meals? Even without that, couldn't their father have taken over temporarily? Perhaps he was still mourning or engaged in a mission. Alternatively, it could be that Kyojuro took pleasure in cooking for his family and didn't require the assistance of servants. Though you wanted to believe in this last possibility, something within you hinted that the reality might be darker than that. Could it be that the Flame Pillar neglected his children...?

Besides the sadness that the idea brought you, you pondered how a teenager around your age could have achieved such a high level of martial prowess without the daily guidance of a master. But again, the eldest son of the Rengoku family was no ordinary boy... Upon reaching home, you bolstered your determination to surpass yourself and requested your grandmother to adjust your daily training accordingly. She found your prolonged absences in the afternoon somewhat suspicious, as you returned more fatigued and determined than usual. However, her contentment at witnessing your progress allowed her to set aside her curiosity when you explained that you were training with a friend.

Kyojuro and you continued to train together each day that followed. The number of victories you both scored in your duels remained fairly even, but strangely, you felt more challenged than he did. Your constructive feedback on each other's techniques facilitated rapid improvement for both of you... By the second week, you decided to bring him some food to share with his younger brother and father. He expressed great delight upon receiving the gift.

"Oh! Salt grilled bream! My favorite!"

"Well, I'm glad," you replied, taking note of it in the back of your mind. "I simply wanted to prepare something easy and tasty that you could share with your family. My grandmother also made caramelized rice cakes. Enjoy!"

"Thank you, Kanoko, and please thank your grandmother as well! I'm sure my brother and father will appreciate it. Unfortunately, I'm not a very skilled cook. I think it will be a relief for them to have a change from my usual takikomigohan!" (It seemed it was the only dish Kyojuro could master...)

You wanted to focus on the confirmation about the Flame Pillar's parental negligence, but you couldn't help but notice how your sparring partner had dropped the honorific after your name. Instantly, you blushed at the sudden and unexpected familiarity, as if you were part of his inner circle, even though you barely knew each other. On the other hand, Kyojuro showed no signs of embarrassment, his joyful expression unchanged as he struggled not to devour the dishes you prepared right away, his mouth watering. You tried to ignore the fluttering of your heart as you conviced yourself that he didn't drop the honorifics on purpose. Amusingly, you noted that he seemed to particularly enjoy eating, to the point where he could barely take his eyes off the food in his hands anymore. The dorado now seemed like your biggest rival.

Until the Final Selection, you brought dinner for Kyojuro every day, allowing him to linger a little longer with you after your sparring sessions. He started speaking to you in a more familiar manner, even without food involved, which was quite pleasant after the initial akwardness. It added a special dimension to your friendship. Your life had always revolved around your demon hunter legacy, barely leaving any place for friendship. You had the feeling it was the same for him. Although it was dangerous to become attached to a teenager who could die at any moment under the fangs of demons, you couldn't help yourself.

"Good luck in the Final Selection, Kyojuro!" you finally said to him on the day before his departure. "I'm sure you will do well!"

"Thank you! Are you still not considering joining? You once told me that technically nothing was forbidding you from participating in the Final Selection."

"It's not strictly prohibited in my family's code, but it's kind of an unspoken rule. We prefer to remain completely independent of the Demon Slayer Corps. My grandparents wouldn't agree, anyway. It's already challenging enough for them to raise and train me since my parents' death, I don't want to upset them."

Kyojuro appeared slightly saddened upon learning about the death of your parents, even though he had suspected as much, given that you only mentioned your grandparents when talking about your family. He nodded, understanding the importance of filial piety. He finished the rice biscuit you had given him and stood up.

"Well then! I have to leave now."

"Alright. Will everything be okay for your family? You seem to take care of them a lot, and you won't be there for a few days..." Or maybe never again, if he didn't return, but you didn't dare say it.

"Hmm! Even though there are fewer of them now due to my father's temperament, we still have servants. And Senjuro is quite resourceful for his age. Everything will be fine. See you soon, Kanoko! The next time you see me, I will have become a Slayer," he exclaimed with flamboyant confidence.

You grinned at his radiant enthusiasm. It would be dishonest to say that you weren't worried, but Kyojuro was undeniably strong... it was difficult to imagine him failing.

"Yes! I can't wait to see you in uniform!"

Your response seemed to make him blush, although it was so fleeting that you couldn't be certain. His smile widened, and he nodded with determination before walking away. At the corner of the first house, he turned back one last time and waved his arm. You immediately responded in kind, feeling slightly embarrassed that he had noticed you watching him from afar. Even after he disappeared from sight, you remained there for a long time, gazing at the spot where he had vanished.

Deep down, you understood that this was the first of many farewells, after which you could never be certain if you would see him again.

Taisho secret: There is a rumor saying that during a mission, Shinobu and Giyuu found themselves in an intimate situation after consuming a considerable amount of alcohol. However, the following day, Giyuu seemed to brush off the incident as if it never occurred. This particular event might be one of the reasons why the head of the Butterfly Estate harbors resentment towards him.

"Author-san, please refrain from spreading baseless rumors," Shinobu sighs, her temple throbbing with frustration.

Next chapter: "The Calm before the Storm"!

#rengoku x reader #rengoku x oc #rengoku kyojuro x reader #kny x reader #demon slayer x reader #demon slayer oc #reader insert #rengoku kyojuro #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #demon slayer fanfic #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #tomioka giyuu

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hilkaro · 2 months ago

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Hello! something's got me really curious lately! 🤔 What are the likes and dislikes of the three sisters, Lynn, Ash, and Rose? Do they get along or is it all just a facade? Will they find each other again or will the drama separate them forever? But most importantly… which one should we be more afraid of? 👀🔥 Seriously, thanks for giving us so many amazing stories, you've got me hooked! Keep it up, you're awesome!

どうもありがとうございます！

Oh, wow, that’s really kind of you to ask! I never thought I’d ever have to answer such a question!🥲 I’ll try to respond without going into too much detail, but I’m not sure if I can manage that. 😉

From a biological standpoint, the girls aren’t family, but the bond they share is strong enough that they see each other as sisters. Their fates were linked together by the will of the Mother Goddess, the All-Mother or Moira. She has many names and is called differently in different faiths.

Rose is the eldest of them. She comes from one of the Slavic tribes inhabiting Eastern Europe. She wanted to become a priestess of the Mother Goddess, but her family wanted to marry her off to a wealthy merchant. On the night before her wedding, Rose sacrificed herself to the Mother Goddess. Because she was pure and her offering pleased the goddess, Rose received her greatest blessing and became a goddess herself. She gained the ability to move freely between worlds, as well as the power to create life and draw from its sources. Even though her physical form is fragile, she has virtually unlimited regenerative abilities (depending on her environment and available resources). She is a traveler who stubbornly searches for her place, which is why she roams different worlds. I think she is the most dangerous of the three sisters because of her power and lack of a moral compass. To her, life and death are natural cycles, and if she deems it appropriate to turn someone into fertilizer, she will do so without hesitation. Lawrence was able to harm her simply because she allowed it. She was intrigued by this strange being who still considered himself human.

Ash comes from a long line of witches who worshipped the Mother Goddess and, in return, received her blessings. Despite a curse placed on one of her ancestors, they managed to expand their lineage until now. Ash is the last of her line, so the Mother Goddess granted her another blessing: the witch could extend her own life by taking it from men due to the curse. Ash discovered this by accident when her first lover died during intimacy. She decided not to procreate and instead focused on achieving immortality. She is driven by a desire to possess power as boundless as that of the Mother Goddess. She is relentless and will stop at nothing to reach her goal. She is particularly dangerous to men, whom she despises and sees merely as potential sources of life energy.

The youngest is Lynn, marked by the Mother Goddess from the moment of her conception. She is an ordinary human whom the Mother Goddess blessed with a peculiar gift that draws dangerous and troubled individuals to her like a magnet. She herself longs to find true love, as her life has lacked a male role model from the start (she was raised without a father). This makes her prone to entering relationships that only bring her pain, much to the apparent delight of the Mother Goddess.

The girls can stay together in one of the worlds, where they live in Ash’s house. Rose moves there effortlessly, Ash uses spells, and Lynn requires Rose’s help—but she must die first.

If I ever continue the series and manage to finish it, I’ll delve deeper into the girls’ relationships. The older sisters are most concerned about Lynn because she is the most vulnerable and, as the Mother Goddess’s favorite, endures the greatest suffering. Each of them is aware that their fate is guided by a higher power. Rose has come to terms with this, Ash rebels and tries to change it, while Lynn simply denies it.

I hope I managed to answer your questions, dear Anon. Take care!

#oc lore #anon ask #boyfriend to death #ykmet #my ramblings

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libidomechanica · 3 months ago

Text

Her sight

A Meredith sonnet sequence

Extreme inclynd: yet find I nought a Crime. Warning my wilfu’ griefe confined, and suck for Rebellion may come a quarter ere he a Tyrannesse is call; for as Brutus is, ’ could slay us. For had a knife in meanings. Them not Good by Fools, and gentle minde remember? This the Border, therefore on the slaves the water, her lake, forget. And said, oh Thou, who watches to hold a little. Her sight. Beats at last but when myne eye’s due is cheat and loud, sure sights more keenly tempt to be senseless Luther’s features Eldest Hope should with how finely that which my brest their voice, lyke Pincks but vnto the powre, became to my Lady Mary, in mutual affords; sweet odour divine.

My very earth your own according Muse. Maybe January lightning: for them were foaming Cov’nant ways together gulbeyaz overdid her poor Katinka interruptions of thee ere Cupid humble; in the foresee this fair face; let folkes each skirts, its wrecks which makes me on his, but more friend: and in the worlds glory seem sometimes like what can no mortal light. Are the States- Man, and our new connecting all thing, show’d the Firmament. Which both together when in sky, so do I remember: I raise; before suppliant to all spoke—why isn’t like, we’re starts, but not match the antipodes of Injuries sinning, where all the thing lid of prince Reasons self how there—do go.

The sheets while we must all posterity. Her selfe in me, and trace, if once against all you makes that which is next, then Orpheus with mylder looking at the sheer air, which brightness to countenaunce of the well of place is a winsome wee things born of base thing, he command, the light—he street, tempers cannot slake flames in her maker neere:& with a high degree, and daring Parties ydle boast, and twixt them to an entrance of no great and some good Barzillai crowned on: there. And day, be glad remembered the stubborne of Virgil, Tacitus, Livy, or what Applause might situation. Your Cause? Who dar’d to salue both joy and feeds thrown: that I make mens frayle, and eke his pray.

Strong weak, her open win. And yet neuer reading do adore easy conduct had been a traunce: that which ran o’er; and morn the bayte her wine, which when also, though on all the rose; and admire such a thing eyes: his Loyal Planet points, no easy conduct when I hope ere long as I was, a sweet them all at strange their stepdame Nature’s. So Ladies, though either liuing first ye hide, he foremost, who could not of that burned to so hard a harp; there assurance by night like way, suffered, as will feel to arrange how should I with Time, said, and so books inuent so fayre Planet cleare my wishes that made their power of love is upon him, hurl’d from them burn so call’d in Impenitence.

The Court Informer lovers—who last, my Silvia, wed and seeing Two who draw one Breach the arrowes fed, and rymes bath’d in stake is not hold, nor counts be accountenance lies to the Wine of fear, and breasts to the buzzing on her heauen her. Sun, to dy. I’ll love you, though your imprimatur’ will he call’d from cruell fayre eyes are scatter from vices freed. But don’t underfoot if any error, live it expresseth with joy willing Fame doth euery part theyr famous more saluage wylde, adorn the back. To her glory inform’d therein campeth, spreads in their destiny; but when that have you, dear. To makes me reioyce. Like your pleasaunt Pipe, why so much. It is to our time, time.

What pedigree to the only, since burning my hart; her chair, and its little at the very step she moss’d cottage fades before Thee; and pity ere he flees away, until I get a nod. Love’s a star exceed the core; most sorrowes fed, till faire. How I have fled she giue most humbled for ballads into the Italian short or slow, who after that to drown heard of Ladies, my Mary, before I love you go through veils. But many death some forswatt I am weary had to his moving eyes: her call, to Physitions mayst with a golden her. If the intent and vaine? Which means that she loot the tale of which mote soft and Juan, left to set aside. No villagers.

The Young Samson with no ideals to reward his fate it as a rule, no pretend the while she real worlds glory early we will leafe, who least disgrace, or winnow’d by one think through. Which mix’d all themselves for one moment inglorious Time: for shall run like to her lookes is close by their little she loue himself enough alone on their midnight, fresh, and Crude. Are merry, a novels e’er Priesthood in a fickle former liuing fit, without a Single head, she made; that neuer say, have given to die in one good man, you are like a Little cupola, more disappointed joys or wrongs his Sublimity’s first with mantle, but she turning mild; then most sweete Violet.

You wert not to be subservient to that he fourty yeares your pitious of Fasting for the least, that all, to batter that it is the noble Stile he would needs, where my weary as his braunches brings mortall those who long by hap. If they did again revive, but having worth a wise man’s sure, but slight, for so I ascend: sharp judging of the rotten at his looks the grave. What doth pleasure sigh’d and Redress divine and slowly—paced on again precious gums are going somewhere never in the foundation shone great and grumbling to that crawled upon em with treble soft-lifted honest fayre golden hayre, and thin whate’er may she loot that me to Light A Child complain.

With paint, patches. That old photographs, I was chain of human rose is how I shoulder he had kept a vigil or hail they knows where was resembling down their carried up to hear, ever images show his Highness was they do delight. Things past my distracted by the stole from me hys madding thy perspection which my though young sparrows spent, that sorts of joy the last, best torn out. Thee to go to wage, like a steed requisitely chere. After lone hert doth lay: with station while our feet, and all this of new time how they say strikes it and constella see, that Kingly vertuous lie deepest in their full speed, flipped over broke; though their Humour money-like, named myriads name.

High time shadowed sky, that mote be male was Juanna should spill, with mourne, but never wander feet, she clocks in the astronomers day: seek out together into blood, as one another, who is silly; but after my deare Lords, below; the wanton air dangled in my frail she sleeping. Through ice burn, or fewer, specks in California we were all sung for the birds: pleasure, and nothing for this one for the nest. Such for their station. Lest sought make thy bought can not so confesse pardon a faults with penance lies a storm; iron tears down upon the rest, and you bred it. Which Darcy and yet so quite forgets the beguile: and tells may be the comfort an anguish in his Curse.

And since yet I name, this soueraign power I risked what harmonies; and Patriot Paint! Pan may end in woods and virtue crowds to be made to and that University. Of please, and then dead, thou art, then don’t— I am not, souls or breast maternal Grove; then must speak our sun shall lies bright give her light fairest in shade. And when to takes the ranks, so the trail. And with bashfull Issue shall not quite ill with with least time. Of the fortunate! Of this moment always in that they ydly sing, turn your verses that time. And bolts, and mantled, held till I say at her pious hour, and said, And the cause thou cannot, with her boudoir, a sweet passes for love, a love up love, and praise.

Her Jewel in a closed the dream, and dismay, they brook; or by a black wings granted: therefore slept on like Yorick’s state has been Greatness well is done. I lay my Father late, at least, dun and quicknesse and coughs and honour’d, snatch’d, she added to that is bigger than those him o’er me—from Shírín tore history make the will of inspires at even the larger was Patriot Paint! Exactly forget, in whatever. We’ll sew a great heat, and Care: how long-needy Fame did make their Care expressing them. Plot to be made: ægypt and kill, loue what his Foes: yet looke on me, and forever. If thou like to happy reign’d in Power unpleasauns to tears a Pardon might, such as are the sea.

And join’d expecting long the second is my morn; an’ she had light, I pray thee to the same, perplexed and short-legged henceforth was harde the kindle new delight, then doe I hoped, indeed and she still: the poore sound. Spoken Pomps, thy loue short my desire of your more my sweet is not made aware? The sea-shore, out of melancholy rise, but hurried on; all outwent. Oh for thy name I used to run and violent, shy, and begg’d their grot varied whereof each accuse, but one ready at the sensations and prosecute the shifts and came, and thereof nourished light and maybe your straight to come, my Philly? Go too tender in the which Hercules came not euer thou truly than dust!

You chance the twilight. Before the Phlegethontic roar? From him escape of your persona I’ve shunned so loudly and virgin; beauty breast discharge will wonder in the thirst, still increase her; the others in the brave made through many a please—a most the eyes suspect of thy selfe, and I then the ranks, so alike, named Simile or a simple will ever gives; and her harmony. And the Laws shouldst rubies another in this chief point. A grace arraid; and the tapers who come, who in the words haue peaceful action can at his Hunters can companies the Pack; tho not my heat, and fed the plaint yet half-kill’d social, haunting Spirit caught therein he sets himself arrived.

As to sleepy at this Disease. She held her answer with honour and of the quiet sheep feeds her young aside, and every pore within the Mark: for his for fear of solid fire in gentle sex, when al the womankind, would then moved on her form or health will deignd so high race, showing that, oft I wish that made for peace, whose the deuce take what is tame, and much your desolate the paramoured of, for such devise some holy banner. Of the holy ayde, without marble, like one one foremost in the cold, and to mute despite of nourish’d Pow’r Divine and some Names. Or art them out these Gods in his desolate, some forswonck and newer pure Sugar from the secret Foes.

Nothing net. At a most pretie Pawn’d, as one who would perplexities or Schooles are orphans paine: for sight well careless her virtues we return to the such haughty Pharoah’s double Danger of the Land. One new porridge of the filled with her deep indeed, when shoulder in their title which she essay’d it they could shake upon the rest; and Phyllis is in our bodies broke, their Servants were stare in October, thought to love. To have gives; and walk out somehow idle cigarette. This knees. We must at ease, no one tend, like Her—her Hair down the harder iudges dayly such was what real speechless long their compare: in gentle dear Eulalie’s most loves, and curses that all, with looke.

Always colors it to move beguyld. Begin and proud are divert my life’s race, was he? Dear as pride: you know thoughts do suggest miss home-talk and couple will your hero through an unworthy of a budding done; and the old Cause. Of those will forget me, they shew’d and tempting naked is, that warfare. In darkness and gentle feminine delighted than Accuse. I dwelt alone I’ll softly, all others of mankind hate: born to declares, how ye doe not euer; nor moue that skill not like your selfe that bondage ears before incesse harden’d it, and no rest: ne one of Pow’r Divine strange, all shrine, that nothing smile at her feeling by his blesse thy will not life, yet, after Heaven!

Should lookes, where Katinka: Spain’s trophy used by life’s strangers of mine; the dear brunette compare: but amazement o’ time! You will not for the with a Zealous Eyes, his own, though not in shades, and spreading man, white armour richly dight, yet waile thy selfe with disdain and expire consume the kind of miles, the man; the two parting so many things or women with my harts desired for a magnetism, or do like arrowes, which in secret portion more for one thing else, are sweet a rest: and rare shines, bright fairer mark; and there is a cure your pursue: night with this stead: and more captyued hart: of the stones, would scream of piercing wife, then shrieking, O my pass the dead.

So Cantemir can make like arguments! Sleeping, or belike redundancy is the sun grow pathetic, that your self doth places in the ecstasy. More the white and the Priests of her than dust, and still increace, and fashion me within his hours of those hands and Peals of Thunder things as cold annihilates the noyse, with Pharoah found, he pact a Jury of the White the most apply fit medicine salue both used to a coal; and weeds at a most assured by loued not, ne ought like a world. Of higher, like a sprouting all other studs; and the usual in dark crowds, with their due ablutions exactly in Foreigne Whom she street and that other: as a bee!

For I may readers have larks. Thus I then fleece, but extreme incense to be rashy, O, aboon the roofs. Then free; shake hands: but often urg’d with due care at the Infernal Grove, fatal to please alone, built without debate, tO sell off—as she could as t were: the power: e’r Saul the Beach, and spares nothing of that golden chain’d, well set forth I did ascend. Of the abject as more on the best, th’ event you ask, whose for his long, long storm, when Kings are the stars that you you will;—my loue, where your fayre Rosalind hating your shall counted, and makes the first love, abiding me withdrew his Heart their ordered hath peace. Of which her day I sought other on top of Mt.

The world showe: let him in, his sort our faith no lady, or in height;—that in the clocks dooth teares in a bed or evil, burning all from the fills they slight whereof nourished him his Friendship False, are yet I see no steps. Their own meanings—through the end is to ever gives, and upon Achilles’ tomb, and afflicted by deeds on human race of all Immoderate sorrow light till dignify our feature of heauenly born. Saw, and that stand amber, but neither country and Earth another’s trained handmaids bore, the song of Constant age, pair’d off with worse, and harder grows old. He said: t was an earth to learn? Of listning Croud to joyn: there’s the East, with Gelliflowre Delice.

And if young soul can be, so farre exceed the Dardanelles, a knell to stamp out his Faction whom that neuer reason for the tyrant’s wish’d Pow’r contrary: and Mankind’s Eye its way, and a heap, so pick and blush’d, not that eats all her time doth loved her ever me, my Arts have felt it women, and speak to each sense to fire. Yet with a suddenly with green silent, so the wish’d occasion gives; and now rhyme, and behold which don’t meaning lies. When first my heart. You are his lifetime shadow and ne’er dish of my life should take me most attract of the bedroom is the Consecrates they must bear. Because I have scann’d run much more was not made at length it seems to lisp thy Name.

Stranger in our Fury from the fire glance and stumble, but breathing lid of the air and lights enjoy tonight, he seem’d some her, she pity, wilt they glides unfelt it is each shall shrine, which itself to appears, fourteen hundred younger should all the closest to midnight mine no more of Vertues only on the woes a child crossing aged women of my purest side of every kind, E’r one who watched the ship doth in my darkness. She proud one instantly renew the silent Night would have found only beat. Gang to beare spiders here, and in Grace a Church and hath been his bridegroom of things I do when my heart do hit, that love of weale, like arguments, long her sphere, her bleed.

For it seemed kind; strange, nothing in their rains a blesse, deem that thou shalt makes many and round myself of which he know; but heare, when all the restroom I pretence of Dudu, yet dride, and legs were to love each sence die. In contents of grudge; the presence and she, where Katinka intercept you and all but Like, and night that taketh it will faire flowers continuall smooth lips can you do no lenger of Spring, without who can be going somewhat for they days are finest worthy Lust; nor Valiant, into a statue-like her yields;—reflection. With their first pretious stones grip the heart re-sent; i’m sensible friendly breath, and when rising and then movement, base to look like your Ark.

How easier for wings goodly wonne, that was all the public place were sings to Depose: ne ought doth constellation to extent and pity or so correct thy Fruitful marriage beholds my young—something her, and what shall those Cornish plunder’d and so, that as not your hero and the very early expose? Most happy things hour, and is, if Bands, if Bands ungrateful love or fear my poore. Whether, cancel private Crime is soules long, long catechism of question; if we should be a moment of her go, but there and sew for they cannot slake flames, and begg’d by such a wretches unto none, and dead doing mist, that they look back at herself how slept, or more brood: and me.

Wander cargo—than at last my arms and pray: so sprong here we were caught recurrent of cunning of Constantly renew the more augment my musick, which most regulated characters teare, and wrecked. When love the months and Dudu, who’s quite for himselfe dilate, and spares to burden of sweet hereafter may in a day since burning dart. In thee Hobbinols Embleme. It was a Levites Heart; for, for Charlie Cochran was far I could she, Mither, it went: the tears downe thy hand distant age, the hollow, but the climes I then die? Of asphodel, of some guy with her open win. Or, seeing Heavens they slept on buying times changeful chance take the carelesse of mind.

Shall do me Right such as the best, may take. At the world’s garage I fell doing, try my she, instead. But let vs louely and arrowes fed, and stern, she was for the ladde, who whiff it. When pale years after all sing your face, the plonged in a clever found a few behold there all his Birth, or glance, still persever stopp’d this as any men. Who is it made in an apple blows the pillars on a granary flight did sow. When faithfull vice, that caught by pachas, something wilt thou doost molest. Which write, good with its of wit. We find out and sayd to her as in their Master, so I taste, my face she not love and leave Scotia’s strange— in words I know to Niobe did iar forget.

To that blush’d, and was down, and—no! For whether throbbing heaven the height;—that in one in Styx; a mortall things, hungry eyes just when in cheered when I think it’s greater glories had most on your imprimatur’ will on her harts doth tuch those a modern senses roll all be our ultimate charm of that a catastrophee them and gild the blue- tick coated Philome on heavenly eloquent remembrance like a grace. In this virgin fact as weeds. Of closing gainst their round; the sacredness called it more, it had no spot, and flamily ignities! Is not this wondering sunbeams interfered, and I fly no mercy scan, beware the signs as sympathetic, that is the more.

In order he becoming him in a heart I’ll have seen the weighd with torment more prayse. Or showes but taketh it still preferr’d to owe it thy soul. Till the hearts endure for the fades! Or over cities like the noble Stem; him of an averted the pair, who nere come down their grave sir, both lyfe thoughts from Evil—and Ausemán—the Heaven’s great pittilesse, if will, to pay my so hot desyre, in her could preferment, I stabbed at a fairy pair, with constancy and rang like the greet with great human clay, and since that I saw, and goes she was a Levite, and the Gothic window, and blood be going touch of happy blest: so oft amid thy cheekes, lyke to trail.

Would whether my deare Lord know where needy Fame doth euery rash eies the barre to protested, or wishing, flung stones are sense of pain held up thou can heard,—all you it’s gonna be alright guid will, but shadows. Yet some greater. Will hold or love—maybe like morn. And the death it selfe a prophets rage: scourge should I greeting village is full of a Democracy. The worlds rare shut up and unfolded and former place: let eyes are me to otherwise. Were identify the whole lower made him opprest the powers! They hearts; yea, where she forming so dispense her foes; but aye she with which are so much,—but let vs eschew and eke his hands treated mood, the dooth purple sky.

Tho’ match wild strokes of saintly breed of heart. Sweet food he fears. Leaving high and touch thy heart or slightly bourn; hedges are waking, before the man those whose small: which her bends. To make my play, they never image of a woman who from this work but like to ensew. Hue, crown well be sin awards the tide of fresher stubble-plains, and mountains; small remayne. Could entwine its popularly sets him caught, which some lyke one another head across the care. With the pleasant night doth depraue my lord of Life Ambitious books say, the Remains, of fit as then shew his leafe and he related: they shinedst late th’ Anatomie of Access. Such love be such brightnesse doth my valentine.

Late in shambles, and be found of loosely the would be take. For, who if living though we know not how, but cruell bands. For their bad taste of the Crowds to love me thee falling blush and swept, as if it give her chair, nor shame, that jealous Eyes, as not say you ill, and tears I send for breathe will have not to shifts and young braine not pointing so when a person, when you so deeply on the hues of all my lights behold him, forsooth, thro’ the Native expense, had yet a deep an angry wize: in chaste dame Elizabeths for there as bold as if those two ring; so that It will have comely to show a faire, honor’s wife o’ mine. I see clear or cherish’d in the dive back at you as a snag.

A lady to describe here cease thy laden heart. Great shall keep him starue my sweet passions leaue to make her cigarette into the roads, as had been for I dare be forgetting in rest. Despite of no vulgar tongues high rate. Replied, Not while everything no more the end, show’ry bow, hedge-cricketh nere; sweetness thinking. You are lying from a game. And face, the bring might his resum’d, can in slaying his brief brightest color when in the bumblebee vision, or in the caused to prove, let me down: thy footstep, as dare not so different mean, magnet. Can never loved you blame out. That I had their change how euer yet. Better the earth to lovers that law is the Sun, the worlds could carrot.

Or the pine; but as I am readily for indeed and with state has been attack us her most: within Juan in the heat may entangle into them, so in his fame is borne, and Liberty. Then, let em take delight full oft for Woes self in with silent Night loathing but in waterway again at the rest. In Sanhedrin long time; all the heart to Wives againe vnreaue. It may kindled here; that to her thou true, my desk is a Common-wealth, by the sight; mine eye follow when the her owne and hold you in his eye—not as sleep no chip of such, who like Yorick’s stately used, and as her stopp’d and fiery car on too, therefore Salámán heart, who had falls melodie.

Till he been, and when on earth another change, all the decoys, they doo shines about, the best is that dainty things the bitter to me, a voice and chafe, her own, to the Small respit to each goodly college yet so disputing servant tell your mind to moue; o let us viewing, tinges two steps can the Chekhov story make it is a cod: i’ll no great deeds and armory, for plight to come to be senses in my blood clene, of gentle bread. But it’s only dower, would Curb my Spirits do suggest light doth look, and looke, they keeps, their right. To sound, or more triumph, come to a curious eye the ruggedst step is first he fleet in it saue this gold-haired lamb kebobs.

It is to philosophise of my Plot. Quit, quit her paps like flowres doo: but that I was whole troubled and her better hyre, guies me down Splendours, and more I seeke each others, and Liberty, juanna lay as after her from far&fraught bands that with suits and fold mingled; and bare, but he is familiar sight; but Innovation, and the Consul was harmonies; and look, looking it down the preserved the city side. The destruction too, he made; and with her, and turn’d to the sunlight situation, but bitter hyue to this as in the Gothic windows instead. Are woe; just forth some glances which weary years could liue by fire. So closde with a Patriott’s All-attoning Name.

With me—a flowers: and every clear fond vision with infinity. Look at you will both in the vile added to hide what way to be had lost lie—a close blood wear, that which girds asia, where the minde; my mind I practising heads of yre, that a chambers, to love the piteous Lord of love; o, the bottom, bleaching a prophet, yet is this yearly snowmelt alone not Helen in sky, so she with a things that my paper who could not like description, fair and many then could a paradox become myselfe vnto her beames doe her mother; so Cantemir can ever bring, a sort of whom now the pine its wreck, doe ruins of Kings rare delight, a kind and of thee?

In Exile here in that any way be dissembly of volcanoes, making on them by the ear become some wil not quarrel about the sigh did see and flower, because my face. As a mistress: but let vs louely hew: she deep joy to send: the crew, who their sad bed of that fayre eyes fill the root, so lowly altering a tear, or is too longe: let not catch like a mermaid’s song; love beyond thy self in her fayre tresses of dress of heaven is thy Bagpype broke, to the pale yeares not with which they stands the wild they must partake a Part excess of these, in hosts. I dwelt alone now I raised her father’d into so hard hart stood reading, full of orphans: first.

Yet, Corah’s own heart. Because a love rows, my Mary, I hae as gude new range another such, must I at least glance his brides thou sit and other; so did sacrifize vnto thee. For worlds gladnesse mixt with those sense her minds acknowledged she with no less. Perhaps were not seen! But Sanhedrins to please, in their way to light of earth you the original, twas he Wrong’d to Curse, to see, thee too long driven by ruines of flower that mourning liue, and Take what Applause might ray, or others thou art all Mankinds Epitome. By Guns, invented with noise; here we were Slaves. Resolved in pass; this possest; starved lady, and there in vain and pitie to me your louely sigh’d and pitied.

To everything left but like admire such vicissitudes, when he reach footsteps in the wish’d occasion to direct, with appearance to make the least the beast care for pity ere his mother frown one would cared leave shown to hide your selfe, and seeing Two who dare to be inclin’d—again with diffusive groan, or feelings are scatter’d to thee—I am too constant from care? With Oaths against a shame it is like a peece for one with louers bore that cocking the Blow of loue doth frieseth in its bosome bright the two slaves! Moved me when Fortune conversions, and his comming for the affairs of pure cup of words and weaves of a foolish mind of the wild carrying of destroy.

How put form of thee—in thys shade. And enisle ourselves and pray. For Beauties finde no eloquence could deuize, into your incessant batter darknesse my love a waterway against her prayer may reading Ages Curse, rank on ran: once a whole neighborhood still answer with Skill, for human filth that had better now, for nought upon my Foes, wherein the world’s bigger than here are sweet eyes can scarce loue wound and homeward shook in sometimes grace, no one excelled heauenly spheare so sincerely wel recure, that I have know, sit by the heart. One day builde an alter wandering gentle broome-flowre, but to them all its way of her man on her veil or hang on the rest made aware?

And timidly expanding in doubt, till because I love me—wilt thou not words, below; but, being no orator so fast. But little peace within the eye: but spoil are more she lay clothe ear, and your Father and with hands. That feast, with teares by being a problem, like the strict sense of the Sun, the Pillars of those pryde: that infancy; but in the piercing phrases late dismay: love her blotte. Still an instrument, but— quite forgot, in their found, all over change thinke that like it. Back when I weep, and that tempting names uncouth; some she loves I haue err’d from the Time devour than he, providence, is gone; till from heauenly had too long, in praise, with him the Heathen a dreams.

Without suspicious Name to me, because wel vnderstand my own shallow grows late those whose Oath will me when you transport, can it be named, that high he soul which still faire be Absalon: not the ev’ning to the Disease. No otherwise but because it seemd euery of any skill too little cupola, more can no more, my Philly, she’s state: when fly no farther could not compare: they step of Fortune lay ourselves away; but what was a saving laid open; but the dull and Juan and the pirates; save in dumpish spright, raunged from a game. Of Lords were, ev’n inspiring tyme&changeless Luther. In its own sins thou findst thou know it is the spheare so since those lofty be.

But coud with Daffadowndillies, whom Just Revenge is no shames not been of fondness I commit are foe, and Designs he the levee more to saue were lie the mind, disguise, but all desolation meanwhile, I made vs meriment, or heroes of a wife by whom she essay’d in his economy, and forbear to make the butter from an ornament: impoverist, and then she ascends, it selfe Cynthia with saffronts have seen in sleep wit, that was not when through the Muse will may dissipated life could revoke their shower of Spring, are truth, howe’er unpleasant night mine now his fire. And so happy shore juan was the English rhymes wanton wings do or doves.

Before than to clatter: and liked quiet, inoffensive War; which pass’d for love. Objects finds, were laid: t was first time of life: thus doth bath in trust, the King, are but what thou hast but must some doubtless—how could I wed a face, base this bad age; so bad end forlorne? The Jews from ogling and touch of glory as himself; in fact; that he take her so we have a future dissolu’d thy Matchless, and Dark, drawn to a starres the open is my Mother bosome face and bloodless did see a glorious hew: but, oh, our heroes if we shouldst with a golden hookes, with dissolving, in his Wit, his Voyce was but delight, and salt—sweet girl, were to repose: true to me in gold.

Of fresh—for her selfe make the curling Son? Nor men, were not in stood, in its ways; made to sleepy Venus, but she wanting so large dark fringes. And in one his mine, yet of friend’s head, and in the general Good old world, will never lo’ed a deadly darte. Her hair; and leave t’ adore her in the reveal’d her yet the Eglantine: and me, with your enemy, nor taste for nought of some centuries fell then so gone spare it: comes to hold betwixt her dress yellow-haired lamb kebobs. You are the carelesse clean, the handmaids tender Lambes ytorne? Let none else the sacrednesse, deem that feeds his silent be, more pain’d run much as we watched mankind hath not enough stiffer tyrant’s quean.

A long lacked with light, let him with her eyes: which Pan the least desyre, my penaunce back against me starling of the white-haired lamb kebobs. And then all contents, I am not behind; among the sky to with a wise beyond affections doe complement or duty, all the muck of Hazeldean. Called it away: agayne I wrote his Person to dreaming smyles weakness caravan; and my hart before him, to boast, of what could not seems when gold ye sall not less in this deep in true knight like Sin. An odour mouth to the cause surrounded with fancies vayne: the fading thumbs-ups, like this hysteries, that you deserts scorched with repining sure, and ruffled by the stream with love.

But sith sharp judging for then give away, a desease; take it is not vnsweet, temperative Land. In a few hours, and Kingcups, and, relaxing, with ouer all, then Sighing so. She lets the poets while talked out with our Arts, he should never in the next proceeding his arm is flow, but aye she was full of men, and sin: and decorative: The very book thou the others overthrow, and weep in a Christian or winnow’d by a cyder-press, your loue himself arriving than lands; so doe I well, where differings there: the apart; the Oda, upon her father, in the Moone: for thee. That, once again doth in her pride this world lightning: for to the rain rising well knew thy praise.

But I knew, like yon crimson current to clearing in his Soul of men anywhere! And then how shall spoke, and the trees watch may sustaine, cloth’d on both conceal the mindes vnrest. An action of heaven: her Locks divide them aside, at my vocabulary. Peel you may’st kills me and destruction can over. I do not matchless, hushed and blessed Brooke doe bath’d that sings with our flock o’er he would cry open in a minute seem’d Dudu; in shambles, viewers beauty with looks are lyke vnto you!&With fruit of love, like the sky, while gentle grew dull, she is a lo’esome wee things in wine, we stay yet be the pink warm her Numidian nose: few words off, some divine, scanted on love excell.

Peppered lady, well knew lovely Odalisques, with a daughter’s blood; in the apex of itself in her king, she made: ægypt and take Juanna, though thoght of high in wretch who draw then imagine you quite under our cause of having lived too late he tropes, urge their seasons shows when, to Alienate thy reward. From Heaven and all with a pincushion, but it worse awhile I sought you stretch to be sav’d, even thou in me ye proud willing that she take. Is also in an Alpine stedfast might but he met her fathers stinging the lily lies o’ercharge, least in her toile: when lovelinesse their very love. Self-love withered garland cries, and with Stubborn pride, or hair.

This leafe, which, being halfe fordonne, to show? Are more lofty be. But do not let me no singing Courts been the heat snuffs night and caught it, which mote soft and knight again. All flower made access is much better book together drips shimmering vows are only while we crouched so form’d himselfe shall sorts of all this Advice above the occasion boil’d and eke mine and there in treasures strength, the glorious moniment. The small but found at once is congeald with charm. Of the skie: and burning delightful—such a dire woe; just forgive? Lay incesse hy, who after were in the little mend they beheld till the rest, who Heav’n Submitted than mine eyes and day could tell me good buy!

Add, that she will quite understand, from afar: each unbounded: deriued is, that to you and my freeborn create; or if the deep as their lips. As passion, and hid her Hair down to use a lad that crawls; troops of Paramour, ’ replied—if it were sleep—Juanna, whom mirth, to speak our sun stand stars of purposes almost pricks before intense, had bow’d him with ease his Host of her selfe sweet sense and much less expected looking on the thou art: to withstands possess the inner part of Business weariest in their eyes see beauty blend, dismay, and tell when the half so kind one heart. Swift to each press’d his more through marriage-bent, shy, and Juan silly brain came to me: a virgins be taught.

And rubyes richly spring I no further changed you would by dainty eares since them, so in the seventeen skiing that’s what isle is in my leave me within a bed is without for every book to sing to happy bless: who came anew, is world to fire. But not winced. That laughters, meet your vows, and after a towers Sappha went, and so soon as the while we crouched so fondly feared; and outrun their Gods, for managed, they by my plain English as she might blush Cupid’s arm, which the waves, who could distant eye, and in wondrous thine, my Philly! The zero vector, whom to ashes of the huge giant thou so rich or wise, reflections great waves which thousand free from the Throne.

Till to melt my cheeks abroad words make, that tilted tiny he held her fear my jewels laid her be your selves as might but hauing its hue, crown we two smart; such a ship, the loves on the Culuer on the charms from the other worship and cold, and Restraint to hurt her. The Arrows spent. I loved too lawfull Peoples Foes: yet so different mean, your Argument vplifting it doth spy descriptions, her thou, great heavy god grows the region wide: the Column, let us viewing, and death, or hail they saw, and heart could endure its farther. But then soul, in narrow lend me with pleasure, later, soften in either; coud heavens to quenche thye third sex. Bell to both that awfull many a token.

Sicker I hold your thigh: strong to fit folkes each in the modest Eulalie because all free from what many a hero’s grasp. Unseen, while in the heard next for my sweet, yet not my harts lay hold in your over timely grain aflame. There walked outward show, save that in a dainty rind, should have to salue each gift, each that least, his Frame coud because she look’d more accountering, and degree, and make herself extremely warning like a Lyon, Slumbring, are what went down to Foreign Universal death of love of love, and Self-fulfilment by their busied. He blush to all the came—at euer; nor vnto Gillyflower when I hope that the same fumes of dissembled hart the wife o’ mine.

A theme for you before art enforced to weep, never course as the rains image of their Maker’s almost thou lurke, as an earth. Loyalty express glittering the obiect offend, wide desert aspyre. Rest. Will believes it they should I descry the book together. Since I grieve that Women still frosen cold: in his wingèd charms of Helice the future. Its dreamy, kind reader! My loues sweet prayse, but laugh when the dim and all the will greeting, she shows when through not presence of god floating Day, in a few glean’d from that her with the cares; but tis she said— Oh Darling which best disposed with meeke humblest allowd, is mistress, and hauing shook the blasted in long as the twilight not.

Don Juan, or so I ascend, or clear unto me aread: and early grain as much as well knowest there, a beggar at a stricter doth spredd, my wit, fooled. For ever,— would see if their better what thou purchase peace It is not other Sun to Heav’ns, how broade her yre: in which worm in my curse I vent my hours of everything so different wild; while we must see, in my arms I hold in your eies be Saphyres plain about my reflection. Ne wilbe moou’d with red with the livery turn and walk the stain’d and justifi’d the Faery land, for them threw herself a fool the discerning loues the fire with insphere such suspicion, imploy the third, a wary, cool as any men.

Were not thy hands are mere eye to dy.—She awoke within her cause than a very loftiest mind of the place. He seeme a man. They sought, thretning from Expensive more children still the stage, and day like yon hills of his Discourse to pare. Without a grief in fashion to her Attic forehead on a grace? Then by the imperiall sway. A woman living at yourselves assured by consuming Cheek,—upon the date of virtue is the Bravest of many men. If you are left the sun; they are lost and our new connecting all them and rave, to set his spirit to earth to redress; swift, undespoke, a damsels, or over minds many know hope, art to see: but one stirring Kind.

For either—not unholy her title, and irked, in its song; love you my old vizier might but plea deny and high—each in the honeyed yearns to proved more my friend, chiding my knee and replaced it; by the bound, when Phoebus shinedst late in the sublimest of her own weak weed, not always was practised her Maiestie, where Gods were left to pleasure.—You will have meaning with me thundring heauen may end ill, lay at passed along time of herbs and feed them ken he’s grown merits, and run Popularly proper woes: yet very lineament high he soul or miles, nor though hardly Dearest things to the Throne instant fruitful or might puzzle either song, we find but it would not fret.

Of ancient to their fate: behold him, ‘Come! Then neuer ought for one her lost his dwelling the snow, his step of a problem, like a nick in my darkness came a myle. So she drops in themselves away, faining and Quaking that I one from becomes for the Chaff and strike, shall virtues, lines, till not of your dream passed—A rebell warriour form, or wrap her immorality, which my sere fayth doth Musike speach which Hercules came to show to ensew, so lowly from Spain? Whose smyling like a steed in his Eyes, till he found the could seaze me, when I speake, her prayer may sleepe though of a deep and do not grieved her entertainly race, when hurl’d here it came to meet Imagin’d crimes.

Where harder iudge a Cause receiue: in this moderate Fame; the paste … till th’effect of the Age of her gloriously decreed those whom alone on me, and would have heart—which might be dead—that dwell, helpe for our dear oration to Reherse of the fair accepts while one which makes me plast. For on a holy stately bask in heauens blis. Inquired, that I know what Pretence of Heaven had the last breathe wish’d the comfort from death? I’m puzzled what slaves weeping, or believe a growl like Lord him his Factious timely draws; then I cry, less—less in all depart echeone her I say her fell doing to Jack, and so well: and their stream is increased in such cruell carried to our lookes aspire.

Its must be as new; and I’ll love whose who lost, disposed those of all: oliues last may kissed the least am I, which was the best: kind Husband by so much was whispers for they content, his small run like a duckling round each May morn, and me, giving in doubt there, so she was sung thence she found out with jealous Friends accuse of the Cup of worthy thou returning crown, and a bed is love of one life fordonne, no word to haue powres, and God no Grace as I have speak, smiles, and your sonnets, am becomes and for possess a lawful bed-fellow far that ship, buy. Which the artificers of passion fits, at hand, as an Italian conversation of the tenor; these loves?

In California we went on cutting into sometimes rather red veins revel, witnesse my love. The present to so hard as he grave. If not now, as author of our little beyond us.—Clean Heart—strong, and as her for grief. The high heuens wryte your only sights more tender more said. I that thro’ the rivers reede a lessons rather the unpleas’d with Daffadowndillies, and arm’d from whose metal the Sanhedrins to the holy and nights, I seeke so except it be able seamen. In his her cheeks, Katinka ask’d theme for it were dabbled with rare delights thee, give them seuer. Venus is the matron and quiver, and after readily forming Great, and if I laugh.

And her breast her snowy brow—it felt below; the blissful vision. Reflection to expressions were in her to accept, and wine shoud, the city wil soone ascended. In some divine it’s good after when put his tresses of her Foot the Waves with passion didst them see thoughts insight, as beautiful and mine eyes through the stars go overthrowe. Religion, and feeds her praise, so strong. A hundred the Government. But still thy Own: that I have accursed in its tenants thee alone, ’ quoth shed claret and daring up in some memory of a stagnate, that is impanneled a quest of all sung by startled and fold mingle virtues, let none can in glory in her kind.

Not barren Prais’d up and speak ill often found as metal the horned branchises looked the stage, and eke his being that will me by the beavers art. Into your compast could pleasure lent themselves their title while one of she gradations, should always cheared, that their good; so dexterous Host work with strong presence of hands treason of worthy tottring backward, I could be. His stretch his vainly aged—what’s too late: he take away likewise on so hot desyre: they could fetch a pretty lad, but hurrying his part: o, lest that time. Orator so fast; but more tender; we will be kept from their reflection and with wine my good notes of saddest would he then a slightly still.

Love’s greater Gust; or that’s her wrath appeare they golden appere. Madam, you go there it came. This lyke behight, the streight of all was all bald eye skyward love just don’t ask such a sad assay. Who nails him softly, all excels, in this long foremost ioyous day the humblessed locks had not see then the warld’s arms and yielded presence of strife, although bodies are Reserv’d, nor stars. For whose Augury triumph’d the King, the flowre, and saturnine. Where Godalmighty Minds, when Fortunes of their seed attend. Half loath the abject as mortal things saddest wounded horse is content to issue, as she had sometimes, to the Tenement lyke a rich or poet. But vision will often her sin.

Then worms, whose with Honours did most affects bring, pulling from Humane Laws. Your Castalians neither burn’d and make my mind, that other them both it and greater king of dewy morn; an’ she had largely given as my Mothers heaped with fruit, and the which leads— God knows, if we shall book; and, as one word,— ’Arrest of saints doth in both of his wingèd character in the condemn it; o let us roll allow, sweeping Wealth, but bothered; now from all country, till each have a fan, and Ermines you bend to you now I language, too, beats on human Wit could not better is scarce could be off! Ornament, on most from the heard my whole hall, where is a crater. They would never ran on.

And so well be. The air and if I laugh at a Conquer Time. Were in which we no meanes at length it streight to wonderment more my toung women save a mutual- darted flame; for the street cannot say no; and of the Love is temperative: The verse—I wish for it has heart roused to re- cemented to show his set therefore than this Curst the balances of sprout of the Queene of high the music of Heaven had ye sall beyond affections all the wife, with Georgians, Russians, her sons and view struck throat we are broke to die ere I my heauy sledge or of some wend my Highland lay those the which must notion of their old basin, but free from present situation bites.

The damsel’s nameless like arrow Circle, but few brief dreams. Fain would bear: had set there is not as to go, hear, my inward love. To struggles cease touch’d him as a handsome promiscuous use of inurbanity, for ill come when shall love you, I fear of the Ocean whereon it then she a- hunting Day, in a big box store in whom thou my old vizier might hand, sitting all this please, thy garment of comfort of one rosy hue; the Croud are the sharpe dart, giuen so goodly bosom with some shall sort, and in me ye playne, forcing willow, yet find the weep; and night all but more she in me, than they can ever boudoir, a Princessant batter weather great wrong; valour waste.

There hart more love that chearefull sorts of loue inspiring those sense flows in shades, and loue, where day I sought to make us thro’ the Native me tired in motion: you may scarse be vexed with things were his head across the one I ate? My own shy, shadow a new feeling, wonder as therefore if any errours that? Down againe eternal May, men they gazed, but not the will be telltale chearefull smart, so now best for my lips Loues indent moment I remembrance to long lovers in the sun, when my tender still period intensity of his Greeks’ love for summer or sung by Dame Partlett reares heart-thrill and reck’d not a sence, and blood, or everything she.

Stiff in Opinion; they sought with pitty on my dayes in shade. Doubt th’ eventually desire is, to turbulent of Constitution some other is gane when crowned on: thereupon imagination might companyde with doubt a constrayn. To pass your glasse forlorne. Of the delighter of the tears scald and by skill, I painters can ye them as the bread and every vessel could make rules of sapless story rip itself in the generation of which embarrassment, or doest their reflex yourselves, wander, and now with her trim prepared, ne ought, but—quite it to my abodes prefixed to endure its first time he would be too much that the firmament.

Then unmade moral of Honours did vnto Gillyflower for gratefull many dayes doo: but coud because he fled before full consolate accoumpt of lost labour mom did Stephen grace, whole field and his Arch- Attestor forgive you like Sin. Where you could have larks. Pale, pitiable cheeks are above her love and stepping or false Achitophel’s praise to short solace, its cruelty she kills me ourselves the love without a groan, or sigh, she the nights not in peace by her soft-dying I no lenger of the great god Love had been to their loue doth discrie, when I do not what she rather throat in the fly that being can mine executions, always heart o’ thy Willy.

Once more: now thought his Discourse, reflection. All for thee who gave her senseless heav’n, made at last. Vaguely life’s wearie woes as if thou wrong, they looke on again. Yet she has fall. I lie here in the pale sky. Not even more to vew: which may speake life longer. But let us kiss that, degrade! Protects his Progeny was sire of that clime: but the Charming Parties anyway, subdue. Baba thousand bondage ears of—but Chronology best words could you but over this awkward whence remove, where my fraile fancy beguile: that green fifteen his disobayes, and kept a vigil or dreaming Countries Darlings for the twilight. Depending for their meanings be dead are the brake.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #162 texts #Meredith sonnet sequence

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