#those strings come as close as possible to healing my wounded heart | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

libidomechanica · 8 months ago

Text

Untitled (“While my lifes ocean, a human”)

A Meredith sonnet sequence

First Stanza

Changed: we are green mirror are only dear because there at point, a day tarnished with fierce loue be infected by these precious Eyes a tear, a day tarnished and thy bier. If a football team won on homecoming on her: for the scorn of laws Salique and little stir about the druries the cataract, shattering wings, a woe-worn minutes kill. Cypress Stature risen to hear me and make that hardly could ape the chamber, cave and duty clash! Not be he I was full of lies. While my life’s ocean, a human what other worth, and still on Menie doat, and ne’er weary, the Head! Hath led me— who knows my days and nigh, all human; bearing time decease she brought. Which the thunder.

Second Stanza

It was agreed when first and earnestly I pray thee in such are the courtly sparks, it may escape their anxious head flew a delight his waist, and up and spoke so sweetly. And at these, and bowing warm as the sun upon a midnight’s hollow door, above by Ensham, down the days that an only’ s a spoilt child. Over delight, than when we do cry. Your careful housewife runs to catch the still, hour after frost. Took half- awakened: then he foaming draperies, headed life supply nor dances of my displeasure; ’bove his head of Proserpine, among the strings boldlier swept, the ancient ties would seem a feathered, smell still his lips and admire what they the lecture, you tend?

Third Stanza

But O, what I tell to thy light’st flame rose, because of their thankfulness. At no man’s face amid a crown to find that nowe sleepy eyes there must weep that trembles throwes onely to her organ vocal breath of healing. Clarinda, mistressed by all my clear planet close with Nature sees her robe assumed the music and vast; his mourning to my bosoms on the sound is my heart of Memory and peer on your husband, not your tongue: on both sides the lakes, who grow up children call, and the lark, ’tween light than their heavy stone half turning to see her and has casually placed length, those spouting up in part from bedde. Should ape their own flesh and birth She stream. The rooms are few!

Fourth Stanza

So my mother city doth his life: we will have yearn’d with syren words! On my should I obey my own Incompetence; not in the west under that Peggy made the wounding at the least be general gladness: awfully, the Hus-bandman selfe will do it, the lawns, and just as I make me thereof are you nobly, mingled up; a gleaming spires, she kept toward us and have gold- dusted snapdragon, sweet Lipp, you that tongue- tied, speaking purple fritillaries the Samian Here risen she made you wept. I crau’d the night to salute the air, giving it A little smart did feele: but little worthy, or more is that ancient elm, lean and a new rhythm have done my wrong.

Fifth Stanza

”—At this microcosm, dabbling spring. Ye who have thy love was a cruel sunshine out, little flowers felt her warm heart would’st unravel her at all the rosebud garden- walks and fair! The trumpeter, while my little flowers, so that is old, aglaia slept. Of Lebanonian cedar: nor would lift him up the wood which made woman and my backpack in bed you will known sorrowing its own deserts? Am like for instant, whole; and with the selves we lose. Were a boy with her face disarayde: the dashing away for when ye come, for fear. Scratchy pocket and dreadful bow. Melancholy; a dusky empire, and he who listening child; and we down from my coldness you.

Sixth Stanza

Darts, O beloved Woman! Temperate I am, yet eloquent, then falls thy selfe on the streak the Ruby Seal that thou starv’d on their leaues they to and fro, to acquaint himself, beside your eyes run liquid look on Ida, full of the way we entered on her luscious lips a haggard smile as much more. And every single couple puts together possible! Last night, has flown away: but home him hasted within. Us, out and in hand, though it was gold or silver litanies, thyself above the lassie, fair that has a sounding all bounds of juniper enfolds, I looked at me tell can; and has so long I will not gainsay love, the Bird of passion-flowers.

Seventh Stanza

From all ills else, as from inmost north; at eve and then the fricative, the white as snow, and green. But shade, and onward life begin! In sound, taking Earth some moves that until they’re over. Or to wrong. To fear have flown but vainly tell, no, not to save a prince to chivalry: when thou starv’d on the lang day I did was left behind some piny mounted, Ganymedes, to peinct thir girlonds with rain, you sat beside! Pushed her heard! But being down the days that from thee to go all thou wert wont to bind him all ills else, we proves you see her and had no continual haste. She lived with such passion’s tongue. And call it brings all, until we ceased, and fade that may I do when my arms.

Eighth Stanza

Is change, and when I was a whelming sound, sweet Access a Salve to wound about Arcadian forest fires. Troop home to your eyes. The Royal mind, whose ridge thee, which loose the wit of any spirit did her whose, because God meant amiss; Ye who had left the bulk in which glibly glides from a high building and lead the swollen cheek is cold to scold, all for there while. The woes of happy love will do well, soon will, full of weather— still I died. ’ No plot, ’ he answered Go: we have as I tell you want. Thee, to sage or poet these, and tossing through many a wood so saw her looking at such as are not destroy’d. How he does sit so late to return the thee under worse and old.

Ninth Stanza

And to meet you will—but Trusty—head in leash, whose wings than the trees, moving thought doth close, and glutted all must love you left the features, and there neede no more than the eye, the Dorian pipe, the star, I paced the Dorian straining on my soul iudging what is not one poor stone to tell you lying. Holy water tasted here, the which of its pool lay, half on her luscious ear. Of heavens; for as the Head. Lost: thy Ewes, that my tremulous-dazzling dews. To the cherry, double double April daffodil sky, to faint in her e’e? That sun their jealous eye a mild reproof darts, O beloved Woman! Were high Midsummer, midnight, and wane in loveless, lookin’ to me.

Tenth Stanza

What stuck in the river. My mother’s hall the gaunt old trails’ said he, why should obey a shady springs! ’St I love the raging moon I write of this moment, with men of care those dusk places, lived upon them. Where did admit.—Till these wolves: they were dimpling, and chestnut-flowers everywhere—methinks, some red, some grand wayling, and dream not mine, I hold you and I, shall devour, the mountain-tops where like a new life into a rage. Knowledge is knowledge, and bear the window-ledge on which cruel things and down we sank our elbows: on a tripod in the battle, what I mean take a fancied city of passion, yea, I was of a back-hoe. That my tremulous showered spread.

Eleventh Stanza

Mere sake of my thrice-seen love and to you. Nor knew, or Psyche whom she not doomed or he was an ey, thanne hadde it no rinde; whan the cherry, cream, those restlesse flames in vain; and wavering on me, descended, to my Mary, before his foolishly, like a girl, howe’er he deal in frolic, as to precontract your breathe within the passport is his owne ioy to his cap instead of singing your great cruelness, that might see this a little worthiest till you write my latest sun. Core than vile: yet, forget thee from that you watch what is your bitter earth. And chestnut-flower of lies; who with hope we underlids uplift, would soar and sing his sick period close, to be tost.

Twelfth Stanza

That now like men!—He—but alas! So dull am, that one ever pursued, a woman to show his love my bone, you drink my answers in. By this hapless fate he mournful place? Dogs, if you call great: he for the black e’e, yet look on the lassie, kind love, even to tears: all of animated nature sees her round her eyes, feed’st thy sea- foamy cradle; or to doff thy shepherds lost lamb at her full flame should gae mad, o whistle, an’ I’ll come to the fills with the morning on like quest waste become into distance. What passion’s birth, wealth, wealth, than be— I care na for me, look into the Indies, my Mary, in mutual affect abstraction of this work. True and passion.

Thirteenth Stanza

Rather country-folk acquaintance made the cherye be without a blush? That lute and sad their little people in our life: his youth is forc’d him walk tiptoe: for Age and vast; his mourning to weak. Until, impatient, but who look full upon it gazeth; a man in hue the foundress of their tenderest, and ’gan tell his paces back in my fashion. Of all his life is the dwelt among whose cool it among the way you go ahead, go on, go on back down where is come, there fluttering in drouth, I feel thou wast late since thou couldst not well, ladies, in entering creature laid his forehead woos? Me? The melodies round thy bidding, I do but watched them all one anatomic.

Fourteenth Stanza

But I will love do? Nor would be all those rare souls, we feel anon the deep; my grotto, vaulted, vast, bud-packed, grenade-gravid, not in this palace in wild figtree split their Maister is lustlesse and you know’st the dream of temperament—let not to fertilize my ear a noise as of a kind of the rosebuds steeping! As if it to awake, and the gate. At this, now at lengthened wave of us do dwell. No where health I refuse to follow where all in all his winter bats, till their nightmare, has cured its Tinsel wing. But in these: the names of Demon, Ghost, and take the bird or the blind men can also see. Run any more soft look your person passes swiftly by, and plump.

Fifteenth Stanza

My heart beats loud and faces going on outside, and Pity dwell themselves. Sure that men may pluck the court’ said he, last of the light of some swart abysm he had combated within. Doubt, for slighted, thanne hadde it no stoon; whan their streaking sun of summer drizzling cool, and she conchs and stouping Phebus steeping! Hard as Newcastle, his head: I have thy love, how bragly it beginnes to budde, and lay me here, they repent, and spoke impetuously. ’Le at least of all your hidden: which? ’ And fled—he saw the grave Professor. Tho gynne you, Florian.- Alas, I burn, I shudder—gentle strife: o my liege Lord, stirring vp sterne strife, but none. What times I burn, I shuddering dead.

Sixteenth Stanza

Fled, who grow up children and quiver by herself, who stand by. Yet will love do? Look on the windowes ope, the other pride, since Juliana here is a certain challenge in being strange and for ever which flies from conceit her full fringed a billowing round honey-combs: alas, he finds them i want to protected by the dark curls blown to all the presents that student came but only so formed of this poor treasure: her answered the Prince. I, being best acquaint himself he flies on our days to clothe herself upon all her sex, has blest but one the loftier form the woman to show her prayer with favour, and rest, is each mortall eye, to whom none spake.

Seventeenth Stanza

Caused of wronged love, and, far away, was now his love henceforth walk’d unto the valley, come, let us know the leave me to possess, but trim our sails, and white of my passion’d wiles, had waned corse, the running over wrack, as thicke, might see the drill but from clouds, to worke me most life, and beat, were it faerie, feend, or snake, my sheepe would make of all beauty with passion. Another snapp’d the sod from whence here might slay this wits pierced through they blaspheme the child of regal compass of their sleep is pure. For it depend; thou couldst free Then I remember through the still night. The story up into love is of mind; bubbled them with the roote bent his plans to nurse the watching from it thence, gilded cheat!

Eighteenth Stanza

In seeming true, my worships thee, o Vashti! Tacks, and play, and overhead a vaulted dome like an ocean-cliff, and greater sphere: make me hotter, till over kingdom of Thetis. With thee to something else entirely going away: no longer than a glow-worm shone like this? Of what we two must be sleepeth not, but Thanks, ’ she cried: The morn before, to lift him up unscathed: give him all at once intended: laiko, Common Sense.-Myself to win! Of faults conceal’d delight in the rose, and had not so; I love you froze: this is no trace it in a dream involved in a clandestine love makes an swift beneath each simple truth or a something dreary pole so marks his fault.

Nineteenth Stanza

The woes of her long breeze warbling lute. A stepdame eke as who should see to springs of delight tiptoe divine a thing, even in toil; another clutched; that the burr of smothering tire by telling their passion. Listen to the boar tusk’d him: so away she fell, and in his plain, without one of Truth, the breath was dove-like fondness, on he hies through a vast antre; then my good Angell guides me to death, and duty duty, learn to strike ye. In your hands they of Innocent maid! And relax Pluto’s brow, but with a thousand years so truly parallel, thought to play with pain and clouds, astrea’s beam no darkness from his planet close behind a Judith, underneath the hills?

Twentieth Stanza

I said, but this shadows her face, straight and brought and on the Prince’s love: she called love, why do we argue like bread. Make me the music—clapt her scorn of us, They mounted, Ganymedes, to tumbled a science and thereto, more by that breathe forbidden mixtures the lights that seeing will again are burst—that I should by time decease, his head: I have seemed to stir within the End shall still unknown, the light on the wast Oake. That Satyr he but burnt his sturdy stroke surprise and Trusty—head in leash, whose silent; but Lady Psyche, ’ said to thus: you have given the head of singing to the Rose-leaf of her plagiarist; I know, what for me, and Peace, and changed, ye hills.

Twenty-first Stanza

I see a face, stella, should cost thou! The languid mazes, wind and biddest fight: I know what we use everyday to frowne. Fly twanging head of Holofernes peeped and laid their little moment of hay new-mown. And I must be at rest.—Ah, vain! Slew both humble and sing, ye joyful angels, and wavering on the sun, that I mean take a fancies weren foolish Council—knowing your glass, his appetite to dive into the halloo will to the riddle they liv’d or lasted Pine, to save and there together make their weeping, in tears fall still he liue tyll the lusty greenest nook, and falling, promartyr of ourselves, perused the midsummer trees, gust-fists, hollow bank.

Twenty-second Stanza

—Thou wilt steal thyself that do you love? Who was the rick flames, and part; no further than this days and nigh, all human life: the sight presents immortal Rome, as in old time, you were that lo’es me and have meant; my great organ almost burst of all her thou wilt satisfie my boldest plea by some ancient ties would clangour excites us to the hollow, the oak and ankles pointing light; but if across the lassie be; weel ken I my ain lassie, in grace and poesy. ’Tis well night i’ th’ year, its newness and mosses, than if they should I, who am not mine; yet mine in part from which glibly glides from the Heart. ’ I answers, a faintly both are forever. They were, and Love!

Twenty-third Stanza

In want or peril, there are schools for all Aspasia’s cleverness, and anxious fears more solemn psalms, and white! I feel thou wage mute! Let us down to inmost terms of art and science and woods of mortal in theirs, less quick to spring, that ilka body be. She ended with their places if i could not he. That Satyr did; nor sigh of his face amid a crowd of state of time’s one more controlling to richness from it then, climbing, Cyril? Circling above thee safely through a pure smoother region all awry: however, tell her, what temper; mild, but the Muses treasure, mine eyes shall I my undoing much deplore, since burning still. And the centre place. Roam on!

Twenty-fourth Stanza

Die: yet we know of love all this glutton be, to us none else, we proves you see the planet close of Truth, the difference close upon a winding course I take, no kings beside me doesn’t care about the flood, or blind with stubborn in twilight, incense-pillow’d that have we proved, no more controlling, much steals men’s eyes and mightily pight, that e’en thy guide my steps, and therein show’st thy love swears themselves this the trees looked as if to speak, but, utterance failing air will gulph me—help! Settled in a clandestine love makes you see how suddenly than the day’s disgrace; just like a model of hers sweet Access a Salve to woo; thou would-be quenchless bowers of the swete sonnes sight?

Twenty-fifth Stanza

Off my phonecard I’m sorry He did so, still brooding o’er enormous chasms, where softly light to paint. With all we seem a feather to accuse of pillow, mix the for this, and then we see, knowing your eyelids open winds are one: so shall a glimpsed throughly root, tell me why, my meaning true, my workshop. In the Soul of any rest: yet must be he I was desolate and both together, maid, of twenty millions of our life and large eagle to this microcosm, dabbling spring, and by these sorry pages; then with his vice in use, did after, feigning pique at what I think, by a’ unseen than Hermes’ pipe, when a boat tacks, and admire what the world has done.

Twenty-sixth Stanza

’ I said methinks, it should answer, echoes, dying, dying. Traverse my indolent; but Lady Blanche erect stood up and acted on, what every tear was born of diversely framed, that myopic travel tired; but I must value on it. Of satin dome and eke to loue, displac’d that I can say or lose. That lent my body, tell her, Swallow, Swallow, Swallow, Swallow, flying prey, rose ears whose naked is each human form divine ASTREA’S praise him, a new life into a marble being: now, as deep doth ride; or being no less, the current yet invention: there was so wan, clothed with you and I, shall dream delicious winds that bassoon, my thrice more pitied her.

Twenty-seventh Stanza

With thee and thence to look into your country; none; if any, this; my levels underneath a city, unfoldings that dark tree glimmer of place with hope that may the surface and partly conscious dew, and has casualty, nor would have been worse than South- sea-isle taboo, dwarfs of the truth we shudder at the same; thou, when the leader wildswan in among us, learnt? Up; a gleaming rod, my potent river made a cunning in spaces the casement jessamine stirr’d; and time could also be true, that lute and flutter on paths perilous grain in the strut and in freshly springing. Pushed her tyrannie doth aspire: hinderings all, until it reach; and vibrant tail, with me.

Twenty-eighth Stanza

Window into the gem so small? High with gold, along the ocean I could show the Princess! The sounds and lightly, she can. In the wasted. And there we would prosper. Throw kerchiefs at a smiling, as if she knows my daily sorrows of the long since, and she knows how? With home; not for then come, to cheer itself, to look into the great work, we purpose was altogether until into the people there we might slay this hand’s lights, came swelling there we live most unrest; that woman to the trumpet down, and sad their leaues they want to sing divinely loud? Tho sayd, he was seeking, or to wrong. A passion can be such bloody vengeance terrible fall: and there: each tender thee.

Twenty-ninth Stanza

Rotten peaches on a bitter, bitter state in peace, for fear of truth, of lasting, and I thy shepherd clans: that in the less view, which might have lived, he in long before, and play. The shell, there fixt like three years are shallop by, or under worse vnto the roses and for your silks, and all the shame, and left her place, so pierc’d with knowing wave mid- channel, or a swollen and uncrumpling fern, and I must lose you. Else, we promise there is that down by your old bards of the throbs were and make that heau’n of ioyes through the coverlids gold-tinted like a broken heart, made fiercer wondering To-day to- morrow’s Seed-field, each at each, that he will fail at being sips such head from afar.

Thirtieth Stanza

At this, now the air, his wander far in other an’ a’ should have mark’d for? And every ill avoids then most men partake, but I thoughts to hide—nor in one shade, There is no trace it in an overcast of ripe grass: and the feet as thine. You have often halowed with the savage race; and the things that sang all round we say for children of destiny, alert he stood: those lines, their union would also be true; and I was courteous lights to hide his heart as stirre still, beside: for thine own again young mountain-bars: and, her empty road as you know where sat along. While beneath a heap of jarring a race makes noble Vashti, noble forms, like flies; and the shadows here!

Thirty-first Stanza

Truth but plain and to meet a lassie, fair tho, the shore, down whose winters sorowe, and lay me by sad Vertumnus, whence we leave to the Prince your own work marred: for all: and men should by time decease, his honor decayed, his brows. Injury, though their mask was paid to woman, and the forms makes noble through winding Triton’s bright against the bell for dinner, clear fortune has so long the stock from which wrought, I mean nothing is every form, whereby she fled. The Hus-bandman selfe on the strange seizure came upon thy pale, lost, and left the bell-moulded, falcon- eyed, and clad in iron pole, hard as Newcastle, his honor of Winters of the affairs until we taste that she sente me.

Thirty-second Stanza

And laugh when knows, it is the flower, each spot man makes or fills! Of god look deep in broidered downe on me thundring disdain answered coldly, Good: your own jewels five-words- long that on this proudest sail doth glorify those three parts in shadow? Out rapture of rage, for I hear; ’ and harmony whom, SPIRIT fair, thy speche, that on her breast, whereby by chaunce to murder me. As will not, while we may, all them surer, quicke. Swollen and tossed irresolute exclusion. The clown, to harm the thunder. So my mother, love.—This way, and fast she rose up, and the green mirror are only dear because than that thing your bitter earth. Right. And fishing face; they are the monster, then we do cry.

Thirty-third Stanza

The nectar; but—ah she—whene’er sic power of love my boldest pledge of your bones: mought he, how lone he speedeth. Ah foolish Council—knowing, saying not the airport so I can conceive; and I rise like birds charme of conscious earth for they are but dressing the prime, like the horn is sounding, her round with any men; and mould the weird seizure came upon the mind is sweet; myriads of rivulet fall from the Tyrant goes to Hell—follow her! Harmed not: but as this; for a meadow-crake grate her honor decades she lies, that the sacraments have been a girl; as girls are one that time with Cyril’s random gales that sun their faces fell through rain and purple chequer, nor the floor.

Thirty-fourth Stanza

To which were disarayde: then Florian gazing, came a moment to sing invincible bleeding out her mouth—sesame, olive. Bursts gradual, with me or a girl, methinks I have one glass shows not half yielding they could we else, we promise of the days that we’ll give three wild cataract and tossed irresolute steals men’s were it ever certain moment after-beauty makes such darling essence of all that shall burst and eager, on he hies that which our young mountains and for such a mournful place? Then came to life. Memory: but this misery most full flame rose, and eager, on he hies dazzled downe doth cast, where it no rinde; she rapt upon us, crying still.

Thirty-fifth Stanza

Through thou seest not, that, it is with her. Thou never worse emotion; yet, in ourselves in immemorial elms, and hand you it’s much toil, ’twould be together we would o’erleap his desk merely clicked into a narrow winters wracke, for us, and red. And time, this sleepy music, forc’d him walk tiptoe: for on a silken-folded around, and greefe adawed, thanne hadde it no stoon; whan the death-weights, placed, though in our own glass eye. Are you that Psyche. Then I remembered kissed me and made a fall out yonder: ’ then with the villain famous in that will I pray that flickers where my extended scythe and thoughts serene without breeze of mortal in the spongy clouds and Fortune.

Thirty-sixth Stanza

Soon were through the Country he is awoke? ’ He said, these brambles pale with him, and a silver. But being best acquaintance made banked fires do stray; your sleepy twilight, by this was my fate, their age be scorn of us, They mought well then, a moment gainsay love, yet look upon your day thou would answered coat? Midsummer, midnight makes such darling essence, whereof he will not know you knead me and tuff, amygdaloid and strive in visions, and plants all night with this love were my coolest water-smoke that beat too fast. A foreigner, and added praise him, a new rhythm have dismay’d alecto’s serpent’s bites? She will forget his wandering in pypes made up; the scattered sapience.

Thirty-seventh Stanza

Nor would live to show his love henceforth where you pause. Others be, to eat the great convention, since your old bards of the thunderbolts: what is to encounterfeit is poorly imitated after vpon a hill sees the lambs bleat. When my love will I pray the most. She has heart with laughter tickled all know the sward; lay out thine ear bubbled up to faint damask mouth to slumbers then gather; but that there is sunlight situation, depth of pains, and gained a petty mound beyond it, when against a stormy time, stared in the dance an honest man feasted thee to admire your breathe within us and a lustre in its maze of life; O more than poor men wealth, our tree-topp’d hill!

Thirty-eighth Stanza

Thou wilt be blest: so subtly is the knees against her monstrous woman-conquered there there is so cold wipers along; and time, whereby beauty in the ducklings cry, the Heaven falls to roll the world of melancholy; a dusky doors: but fit to shift and dry, in order to the garden of girls, to unfurl the man; tattooed or woaded, winter bats, till a silence, doth throw out he strangely as it had not so long hand that times in mists to her with his hand help her she was never meant to grasp the head on a pincushion, heedless of the place. To starry lamps, by whose brain; yet, in ourselves, perused the tumults, when it grew upon thy records of Paradise.

Thirty-ninth Stanza

Thus let thee to descried an orbed diamond path with chamfred brows I crept into though these, no fears to cross the brain; yet, if examined, it mighty Mother way water the constant hills, flung ball, flew kite, and Cremsin redde, dyed in Lilly white, alas! Till live, the ladies, in entering, on the light to thee such bloody vengeance terrible to the human dress. That pretend thy assistance when these days, but this hand held her robe arrayed, in shining unto no higher: when time to his beautiful a dole, the bone dry voice and pipe and we should breathe forbidden crimes dropped upon his brows of Agrippina. His bosom brake the fort of the wet fields lived under thee.

Fortieth Stanza

On Helen’s cheek: its onion root the smoothe, to assuage, if that after-beauty a- wee; but steal thyself to the clown, the motion: follow that nowe it auales. My pensive Sara! How lone he was ouerawed. Ye glow-worms, whose cool and least grim look, or canst wait through with cold, then down to the boatman’s dress: well have remember: I raised my eyes? Bright roll is folded up from the habits of old enjoy’d in youth’s slumber though strings boldlier swept, the land, and, wondering water-smoke that on the heads were it ever certain gloom, why man has such sort as, thou lay that fear ye, brawlers? No wise startled back against an endless deep doth ride; or being wan and his own heart to snare.

Forty-first Stanza

For this my love, when the year; the sharpened condition me of this excus’d I to resign thy dear maid, be pitiful to Poverty—hospitable to thine angry howl, and the third—the authentic foundress of love! Do not lose his waving his silver bow and growth to the though paleness breath about what’s going on outside and i would hear her pupil’s love of knowledge of pinewood cross the day become into it—that your substance, where were one rose and you, but only crossed the solitary dove, my fragile visitor. You can heart, palpitations; doubled soundly sleeps: it must be, and more been and awe; then from pleasure of a stand no spurre can write!

Forty-second Stanza

‘The fifth of booze, the bone dry voice alarms. Magnanimous Despair alone? To make a coronal; and white! What care, the days that affect abstraction here upon you. Eyes maybe it’s too lavishly are past there was some know this faded form and pleasant sense, upon his hand with me then the earth upon it. Wil ranke Winters wrath and feasts, and uncrumpling fern, and love false, and then there sameness breath invade then the way we belong. With me, above her a slave: blest in my father’s names of shadows on your I found the words; and, ever slaves at home and gone. And the breather to a dive! ’ He added, lest someone’s garage I fell on city sacked; melissa drooped her.

Forty-third Stanza

Grew up with Cassiopeia, or the pale drug of silence can you see how to leave to those dusk below the pleasures be, whence here might have tortured lions hale the sluggish wheels, fresh ornament and gained the track the People’s purse—the Tyranny the Glass of Justice to swerue, and least the thing called love a rule how farre this nigh wasted. Median during rush hour. A bed of flowery mead where chiefest guard again, feeling and we shallow: essence, when you have often halowed with feverous fingers cool wonder if they naked stood, and how should be a suffer the rosebud garden- trees, where either than a God they bore her deep hair, so to the haunt about the morn.

Forty-fourth Stanza

Dear goddess pin’d forgot much, Cynara! Where the Lityerses-song again. From our head moving through their proper sight, clos’d in sullen moisture, as she wears her error like all night. That Judas I have been froze to see you: but I, so much as are not do’t in Prose. Or more strong in war, the one is the field or river: our worth, and dread, and ever, because I would not with using; thence, wherefore I lie with these wonder why this cannot live, perforce; and let naebody see, and make him lose her wise, whose brain to me; the lea; but thou, modulate me, Soul of the watrie wette weighed enough infinite can neither hands which of icy pinnacles, and charm’d a tumult fell.

Forty-fifth Stanza

Bars that such a dirty rat. Of course, and grace, well needs with the heaven young lion plaid, mine eyes of an institution some days that rarest gift to play with charme, selfe- miserie, beauties everywhere—methinks me young, although yet, heave my Verses higher. That were his forehead, to keep the seasons of the affair is always to the east could not heard your body has becomes a truth than when it hath my heart, in the end found gold and fear, a darknesse, whose busy being sips such darling essences, once spirit to the grave shoulder it leanes amisse. Like Oedipus I am losing when I did was learned to pass the days that amaze no more—when ecstasy!

Forty-sixth Stanza

‘You have done perchance, and shall never bleach. You need me like an ocean-cliff, and strange, the fancy; for indeed: we thought us, as to render hoveringly grouped in the blue-bell pinch to your only she changed, ye hills? While the strange low song oared a shallow: essence of all this shall make Thee strong in tune; till, weary, he sat down and relish the past the thing through a thousand matter of my heart has set the ground sown with Thee true, my worships your ideal: ’ she read, and strawberry do still the Castalies; I fed you look into the wynd. Which I gasp to have made a cunning of wings in a kind of beauty; fonder, in such swell of our bound, and rain, rain coming stain her?

Forty-seventh Stanza

Displaying on thee; though it fades upon her body is warm with the dovecote- doors, disorderly the grass. Alive with laurel, issued in a college Portress came: she calls her pleasure, the face turned with this upland dim. The world at last the torments thy shadow of yours alive and power. I hae sworn by themselves but slacke, which may presence the bird outside and still the chambers of the trumpet down a stormy darte, which doth grow: for Stella hath, with deep- drawn sighs was quite forgotten time; down each we sat, we heard the floor’s cold arms in awful shade, whom, SPIRIT fair, disdain answered. Day thou wast late since first heavenward from Syrian trees, and rich with one sweet dream.

Forty-eighth Stanza

The mother as you know for that all the valley, come, the butterfly; upon whose million loves. I am on the hearth, by one dead hush the fair in the crowd of stairs of her brow burn like the sun she looked at me tender the blow, she stood; like my grief its hour in the boar tusk’d him walk tiptoe: for Age and slides upon the west, like some unseen among the zephyr-boughs! Have become wed-locked as if it had been lost; but I was debarred the manners of my night to be, barbarians, grosser lips as with toil, ’twould be engulphed in the darkness this feud betwixt the pyramids built the nectarel; while that little space he stood: those lines abrupt in middle air?

Forty-ninth Stanza

Twas on a joyless and unmarked, his own long back but that we’ll never dying. We couple puts together like the trouble, gave them Rebel feeding out with burden I bear with a balmy powers: there health— yours, not words, we conscious dream before her forehead, to keep the Flock. Come and the nest’ she says that I am old? Left human, whatsoe’er the year; the one POU STO whence after- beauty to come hither, thoughts: in mercy then sweetly she grew. Through the human heart no more ardency than touchwood, with spotted winged birds to dying eyes: and at the family stood all around, and, at that glittering storm. Whence is there was seene him nere. In the kindly face I recognize.

Fiftieth Stanza

Of myself over the coming on a sandy footprint upon that think I bear, though indeed end abrupt, in middle air, his way. Enter lover, what every joy. Into your beauty a-wee; but a’ the lambs bleat. And fair fallen May and chicken feather’d creature at the thick-leaved Myrtle, meet emblem, and yawning O hard the flood of wonders ceas’d; whether, so I may do, perhaps her lot. Be surely the wheels; solemnities! Bones; here little eas’d, down- looking at the gates. By thee, hence remov’d, the animal loveliness. But their motion: twice she leaned on my passion makes an swift dispatches which us doth wilfully appear; and, us to the rose!

Fifty-first Stanza

More honey and baby. The prime, and so tall? Her could sip the crunch of Wall but echo’d from them together, hung his innocent floods of old, and she exclaimed all must love, how to rule, and Cressid sweet grows woman ripened earlier, and yon bonie black blocks a breadth of thunder-shower, she is near, she flies; and all these male thunderbolt hangs silent; but to one of us i am on the rock, the spheres began to charity, my testament heresy, such as here is no truer-hearted—ah, you stood that o’er the float of The World on us doth within my breast in the mud on the forest-ways, and by those were gracious lips and wind, and mutability.

Fifty-second Stanza

The white palace in our vertue know: is it not stare aghast with love just for one plant now knew that rage outside and see the days that distant Sea tells us of sight, and answer us to join, the marbles, and how a call celestial sound: all were clear planet close in flow’ry robe assumed the turf I bow; thy earthy bed; my dust would’st credit her face disarms their monstrous roof curves hugely: now, far in the vine; nor cast away, and by the turn off their space. On either hand she the founts Protean, passion, when some slight meet. And it’s whole found the new life into a worthless watching pass away in solitude. Then from all his lifetime each lovely to-night, you lying.

Fifty-third Stanza

And held her robe arrayed, in shining expectation cannot see thou know’st I love talked astray. Has he blames in photographs, and we saw the Lady Ida’s shady brow, so soft, a brother? He deal in from this said, I am to thine angry powers, and through the country-women? My cheek is cold fire, into the future time, whose ynne Penaunce, the world is not half yielding— almost laying Venus skies, least of all these hallways. Of ioyes through the yard looking them all one anatomic. Its onion root the sad usage of his Soul was mov’d, be better bleating for all that can better death along something more. Looking, vacant and unmarked, his other skin growing.

Fifty-fourth Stanza

Fruit, blossoming, that woman is not, I opine, her sex, has blest—but we all should I, who am not of the grass. To make a brave, but yielde, and scarlot berries in flower; like old Deucalion mountain showered Jasmin, and burn, and mad, when this fixed place where all mistake, come cool it among men, light coin, the beauty compassed in a female, moving more noble. Hear it, O Thyrsis and there was an army in the elm-tree crowned in a glass box on an unswept street no mixture did it’s me i want you to death my brother! Of snowy should I fight you again we crost their budding or the mother Cybele! Bowl spills into a dell. A maid of her higher.

Fifty-fifth Stanza

One anatomic. When loud the house, stubborn streak the reveries that crimes dropped in these gleam a poet caught, and we should disconsolate, this crumbling lips he stood with turrets crown’d. Echoes roll from fruit: if more avail to sea againe withouten any boon. ’ Father got up early and pure. Take for decayed, his first enclose his diamond path with the Oake, for us, and least deserve that scornefully divine ASTREA’S praise to all that’s best habit is in his carelesse complained of casque, a cap of Tyrol borrowed to thee I so belong, that prevented times she lies, thyself above thee out for there in want or peril, there to senseless as mine? Where you may!

Fifty-sixth Stanza

Thy wings upon a wind of spruce again. With a Laugh would go, piping a ditty for myself had made, what humanity. While cheek and break. For Psyche, wont to have done my wrong. Thy fountains drive, and polished by some say but thus it was begotten time shouldst mount up to the sea-born goddess! Then came a moment by a mossy stone, lie on her ire; she cannot tell. I do not doubt and trembles that affections, tender hoveringly—O dearth of human face, and in her e’e. In the day’s disgrace and England. And lay me here from decay: for fierce loue and forest told it in are that carve their axle! And silken couch of sunshine on the records of Paradise.

Fifty-seventh Stanza

And sees him dead for Bion’s fate; the visions, and roar, to break the Ruby Seal that thy brow; and thus what thirsty plants both her hand she to hear a trumpeter, while cheek, and read the sparry hollow cell. Whose track unseams a wooded cleft, dropt the future bliss, is misery most drowns itself, and joyance every woman every other disturbed me with Love, the day beat admission learn, I cannot quell its range of duties to catch of Moll and let thee the porch that same Adonis something else entirely finished and mightily pight, till to sea againe. I can’t stand this, sudden exaltation: but, Alas! And let us be the God of succession, yea, hungry sands.

Fifty-eighth Stanza

In bed you that Lady Blanche erect stood serenades. ’ He added, lest some swart abysm he had sown; in us true growth of spirit to the breezes rapt from custom, that dost consecrate which she fills with the last empty fifth of booze, the bones in the western sky. Sweet Access a Salve to woo; thou may’st things that struck in: albeit so masked, to whom the powers, keepes perfet harmony, from your kirtle, an’ I’ll come to seek; and with care descend! And starlight, underneath the gardens standard on high, beginning easy grace concluded, and to follow, and learne with the workman and his tread was Hesperean; to his face disarayde: the Honye is much, Cynara!

Fifty-ninth Stanza

That every woman closeted for hours! Now fareth he, that thou dost hear me, pardon me. They are styled, who are so many eyes, least of all her glory sat she is neare ouerthrow. I your own handwriting to us: lightly, she is sitting on her like parting hopes I heard of, after throne, and make my bracelet. ’ He said novenas to my great Athenian admiral’s mast? Whilst I thy babe chase thee with the boughs I gained the good shoes as welcome shocks my daily sorrows, and care. Thou should set a sculptured porpoise, gills a-snort and virgin face. Assembled with me or a girl withoute stoon? For love’s fine withouten any boon. The stretch’d and grew with us do dwell.

Sixtieth Stanza

In ever-nearing time decease, his friends; but for its mysterious eye does not yet, for slight, incense, tenderness, no, not to love, when a’ was done its cheek, and race by all things: yet my mother, tis not thy Face away from mere walking. The water, into shapes, half seeing, I caught up into the starred mosaic, and the lakes, who are so many eyes, feed’st thy lov’d at such as if caught there flutter’d charm’d me not with all fair light, o what dark tree glimmer of place and the muse! Elizabeth and me: then away, and more of faire ladies of the throbs were born, the stately theatres benched antagonisms to follow; let thee to thee so loved, whose precious deep!

Sixty-first Stanza

The passion’s birth, wealth, worth have ceas’d to flowe! The pink grew then adieu,—farewell! Are carrying their trenches and called love, yet when Sicilian shepherded down sidelong aisles, and here, one shepeheards would her robe arrayed, in shining in the terribly sad You wish you mine. In the dusk hill-side, and pawed about what’s going on like that can you send us back our son, on the habits of our choosing! There were na looking at my hammer, an’ it’s like the sun, o’er studded, old, white, alas! Lord of crystal rocks ye rove, except thus much, nor more such tyrannie doth cast, where either more than poor mistres of the darksome way; and stocks in Egypt. A Double Burden.

Sixty-second Stanza

Forget not yet the tendernesse, whose ridge thee, ah famous—that Judas I have seas for to madden thing that call ardently! From harmony forget me, when known, dead to feel that, at his homely cottage-smell, and she cool’d in heaven young mountain and out there is but one impious; for, ever and o’er these thing which leaves, every Muse brings forth a naked left her pleasure. Though Natures all, until it reach of sunshine out, little; mix not with might not found her eldest daughter, the oak and she that wont to do? Us young and close, to be crush’d, less fate he mournful place? To mortal sense; as now bene myne, to other an’ mother. To juggle with her: I never guilt.

Sixty-third Stanza

—These bitterness as they of Innocent maid! The eagle, lost, my sheepe on the floor; the lassie be; weel ken I my ain lassie be; weel ken I my ain lassie o’ my heart, my lassie, fair tho, the last which he for carrion Crowes had burst from Astrea flyeth. A bargain dress the belt. And blue-bell pinch to your quire: sing your plan, divorced from right there is about solicit free or more gentleman, and clad in skins, raw from them together if i could hear their education, and shadowy queen o’ womankind, and be kind at peace she price of myself were leaning amid her who first they come: if not,—myself no quiet field, and much I bear witness Luther.

Sixty-fourth Stanza

I have new sorrow and beat, were it not. We knew their lives a choking flower, each and air, I feel thou kenst little hands in ecstasy’s utmost we clutched; that talked astray. Now is there but i just don’t know how can we go: and bubble blown to happy omen, hail! It makes her giant heart and cool ye all women take the breeze caressed, like Vulcans, on the least of nature understand the blueblack cold, that before this gush of feeling and Taking still, and speak of him: this world is not to answering the random wish: but, a poor Naiad, I guess’d his empty of you, sweet Lipp, you teach me to my heele: but to die. And oh, Sirs, could suffer and with her dreams of the palms.

Sixty-fifth Stanza

Is worse from your kirtle, an’ I’ll come to ye, my lad. And therefore have writ do lie, even Death and other by a fear lest any part should lord you. Through with the light from me. Put off in earnest well: and men shall ne’er weary, the pretty one, one that wait through a dim passages, wherein showered spread out at gates. Is thus, for many days, has he been worse and disappear so faire a face of it are all mine. To push my rival now! The generous in that tender mountaineer! Morn, we issue, yet many a florid maiden hath times I burn it just observe, I tell thy loue there in a new rhythm have dismay’d alecto’s serpents; ravishment is very small.

Sixty-sixth Stanza

We did not witches, who hast vs homeward fever parches of them my life permit. Us: promised each; and she had kept a vigil or dreams, the smooth-slipping of the rocks other distant Sea tells us of the water dewe. And dear is put beside her to silence was heard it flies. But I shall alegge this gray preeminence of mincing mimicry! Myself had made, what whisper’d: Though I be left so sad, so melancholy; a dusky doors: but for then I little grace, well needs the pipes it should but vow the woods of the roses and other light the Olympian eagle’s vision smouldered and thy brow; and the lowring you said. So cool as aspen leaves.

Sixty-seventh Stanza

And all were clear fount exhales in men. Will ye go to thee, and flower girl was caught as happy’s a king. Own legs embargoed from. A sinful and still nestle and serenades. Had fallen out the Judaic ground; he could not looke into the grounde to quake, thearth shronke vnder thee. I would ask less welcome they like sweet soul than the terrace ranged the fair, so from the west—I miss it! ’Er a ane to praise, o Muses! Thou hear her and every nested the river glade; and made me sick, ourselves—o—children and quell? The first create mischief in familiar with his bow; his quivering against her maidens, empty arms together: those to lick th’ effused sacrifice?

Sixty-eighth Stanza

Lie on her head, and had not any hour; now seldom come. My level gleam a poet caught and she replied Melissa, for a meadow-sweet and angled in a flash, than in my pocket in case we die I cry with a haughtiest lineaments, withoute longinge. So loytring lips, with open eyes, ay seeking thee soon; rest, rest, on mother worth, wide as the day not I your own work marred his father an’ a’ shoulde haue I worne out the vow? Luxury; and thousand, that way, of custom, and green disparts a dew- lipp’d rose. I pruv’d; but then avowed. Pardon my transfer a weak, a soft float us each neat niplet of her harsh can prove the metal woof, like sometimes, like darkned mine.

Sixty-ninth Stanza

Been reduced to the full growing in her eye. And the ploughboy cheere thou only hast by waning grown, and palace down; and we as rich as moths from thy bloom, and beckoned us: promise hast lost bright head on a vein of gold, all for there to go all that bassoon; all night. But O, what the future; everywhere—methinks he seems an angry light of her bones to budde, and glean your false sublime—like one to hornet in thy powers So saying from the hopes poize upon the subtle soul than the envy of the glens are there we live most unrest; that think she sleepy music, forc’d, the country comets, that lamp you can see but parts, now this, the youth is fed; forget not yet the sky.

Seventieth Stanza

To Lady Psyche, but watcher of love! Your own hand painted fantastic tenderly i’m guessing you worthiest; and shell, though she knows how? What thou canst not livelier not love twixt me and i would tell you this but thou couldst bathe at midday. As you been sphered up with the same, else laws of truth, of lasting union—slashing for all things are one of accidents creep in broideries of flowers; but none fitter than that wont to do, the brood. What times far as words should discovers then gather; but this, dearest then, turnspits for the lips of mine was a part of I was a winged her trace of giants living will not know what which us do dwell. You can do is not wrong.

Seventy-first Stanza

And the music slumber the walks; we mixt with breathe thee with pity or some fiercer wonder high heart beat, night-long within the way we belong. Dulling men shall ever be; I will find it otherwise’ she said to hatch the black blocks a breadth of those in autumn tress, prays to the touches on the softer Adams of yours suddenly than thee, fell a-doting, and find in the sky! Came more than the roses were it earth receive; and bowing well too much loves unwrit, at that, it is half-disrooted left the founts Protean, passing noontide rain over a bower, and yawning O hard this rude Cumner ground; he could hear the nest’ she says she not reach; and the beach, and sweet lips.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 7 #143 texts #Meredith sonnet sequence

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justthishumanheart · 4 years ago

Audio

Andrew Bird - Greenwine

Where the state highway starts, I stop my car I get out, to stare up at the stars And as meteors died And shot across the sky I just thought about your sad, shining eyes

#i hereby declare today andrew bird day #greenwine #music #those strings come as close as possible to healing my wounded heart

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drakenology · 4 years ago

Text

𝐁𝐀𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 ♡ 𝐃𝐀𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐈 𝐒𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐌𝐔𝐑𝐀

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 : smut!, daddy kink, violence & mentions of blood, established relationship, dumbification, face slapping (politely), dirty talk, degradation, a pinch of knife play (he just cuts your panties open), exhibitionism, breeding kink, cum, fingering, swearing and size kink if you get a magnifying glass.

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: Hey sexy bitches. This one’s for my Vice City event. I scrapped so many ideas to get here which is why I extended the due date for it.. Anyways! Enjoy, sluts. Daichi supremacy.

He sat at the bar; tall, dark and handsome. He had this roughness to him, his hands riddled with scars and his face rocking one just above his eyebrow. He was one of your most handsome regulars. He always came in around 12 am on Friday, all blooded up and battered from god knows what. Tonight was no different. You sigh, taking in his strong arm that was now covered in bandage wrapping. You strut over to him, pulling your top up a bit to push up your breasts.

“What can I get ya, handsome?” You ask charmingly. He looks up from his empty glass, his deep brown eyes soaking in your form.

“Whiskey, neat.” He replied, smoky tone of voice vibrating against your ears as you bit your lip.

“Comin’ right up” as you turn and walk away, adjusting your shorts after bending down to get his drink ready. His eyes trailed to your hips where your g-string sat snugly on those hips he often watched sway as you walked by to serve your patrons. Were you always this sexy? He never stopped looking at you as you poured him a drink, leaning over the bar to ask him something.

“I swear every time you come in here you show up with a new injury. This is a bar, not a hospital. What the hell were you doin’?” You question, reaching a soft hand up to his brow as if to try and heal it with your touch. He didn’t even flinch either, almost leaning into your hand like a touch-starved puppy. You grab some napkins and wipe some blood from his leaking nose, tsk-ing at him as he sighed. He knew you’d give him shit.

“Got into this nasty scrap with some gang. One of ‘em tried robbing me.. I showed him why he shouldn’t have. His boys came after me and they caught me off guard. One of ‘em had a knife.” He admits. You flinch, looking at him in awe. What’s this guy into?

“Be careful, Lui Kang.” You tease, sliding a glass of ice over to him from one end of the bar while you took some orders.

Not even a few moments later, someone came up to you at the bar. This sleazy looking man with his hair gelled back so thickly it didn’t move as he craned his head to look you up and down.

“Hey, sweetface. Get me a drink, will ya?” His voice like a natural irritant. You turn to him and take his order, your protective regular watching him closely as he sipped his drink. He hardly knew you; just some girl who worked at the sleazy bar he always finds himself licking his wounds in after a scrap. Still, you were always so nice to him; greeting him with a pretty smile, a cold drink and a conversation. He was just so used to violence, fighting for everything he has. He was grateful to have just one ray of sunshine. Vice City, nor his life had ever granted him that luxury.

As you serve the man his drink, he takes a sip and makes this repugnant face.

“Women. Not even good for making a man a fuckin’ decent drink.” He snaps, tossing the drink towards your direction; the glass almost hitting you. You scream as the glass shatters against the wall, your regular standing from his stool to give him a piece of his mind.

“Fuck’s your problem, tough guy?” He spits at him, grunting when a fist suddenly meets the bridge of his nose. The thud causes you to jump, staring at the scene with wide eyes as your heart slammed against your chest. Of course you were no stranger to bar fights, but this? How could one man make violence look so tempting. You gasp as you watch him pick that grease ball up by his shirt and practically toss him out the doors of the pub.

“Fuck off home, before I decide to kill you.”

He takes his seat back at the bar to find you cleaning up the mess, noticing your startled and clumsy movements from shock.

“You okay?” He asked, concerned. You nod. As tough as you try to front to be, you were scared shitless. Though this wouldn’t be the first nor last asshole to grace your bar.

“I can handle myself, ya know?”, putting up a front that you didn’t need his help. You were grateful. But he doesn’t have to know that.

“Sure.” He shrugged. “Remind me not to interfere, miss independent.” You stare into his deep chocolate brown eyes and lean closer to him.

“What, am I supposed to thank you now?” You tease, taking a cherry and sticking it in your mouth.

“It’d be nice.” He smirks, raising an eyebrow at you. You giggle, leaning over to give him an innocent kiss on the cheek as a token of gratitude.

“Thanks.”

After that fateful day, you and Daichi were attached at the hip. He brought you everywhere with him as if his scene was safe and tidy. Most nights consisted of dressing his wounds after watching him roughhouse at his fight club. You never minded caring for him since you know he’d do the same for you in a heartbeat.

The life he lived, the way he made his money just to get by was terrifying and... exciting. You always came with him for his matches whenever someone had bet big money on him or if some assholes wanna settle a score. You always stood in the loud crowd as they watched, beer bottles and cigarettes littering the concrete ground. Daichi told you to always wear his name chain so that the guys knew who you belonged to, those dudes can get real handsy and Daichi would hate to have to hurt a friend. God, you were such a distraction. Daichi stared at you almost too long; dodging a swing of a knife as he took his opponent down with his bare hands. The crowd smashed more glass against any nearby surface to celebrate, the other half of the crowd booing and hissing.

After he was declared the winner, he got his cut of the bet in cold hard cash; about a nice $200,000. Boy was he frisky after that. His big hands stayed planted right on your ass as he walked you both out and onto the streets to walk home. Your walks were always so peaceful after the boisterous and rowdy night. But tonight, Daichi wanted to claim the second part of his prize. He swiftly scooped you up in his arms, sitting you atop a car parked on the side of the steady street. He pulled his knife out from his back pocket, spreading your legs with his palm.

“Better not make a fucking sound, baby. ‘Else everyone’s gonna hear how much of a whore you are for your daddy.” He grunts, taking the blade to cut your panties apart by the crotch from under your skirt. Your pussy was now on full display for him and quite possibly the ongoing traffic driving by. You shudder as the cold breeze hits your bare skin, looking at him with doe eyes - only making him want you more.

“What? Don’t act like you don’t want it like this, babe.” his voice thick with lust as his thick finger reach up to pinch your nipples through your thin top. “God, look at these.” as his hands grope and squeeze the softness of your breasts. You’re moaning into the air as his lips kiss your neck feverishly, taking your top and lifting it up over your breasts.

“You want my dick don’t you, baby?” He whispers into your ear, your thighs starting to tremble just at the low, brassy tone of his voice. You nod, your cunt fluttering as it starts to drip with slick. Your obedience has him feeling firm, the brunt side of his hard cock starting to grind against you through his jeans. You gasp, Daichi’s hands still pinching and teasing your nipples as his hips grind to make you feel good. You start moving your own hips to follow his movements, Daichi groaning as he watched you try and get yourself off.

“Look at you humpin’ me like a little bitch in heat.” He spat, a whimper leaving your mouth as you start getting desperate. His hands stop your hips in place, his eyes seemingly dilated with a dark appearance.

“Take it out since you want it so bad.. yeah, put it in for me. Work for it, slut.” He demands, tapping your cheek to keep your eyes focused on his. He slaps the other side of your face as he snapped his hips, this chubby cock seemingly splitting you open as you cry out. He starts off brutally, as if he weren’t railing you out in public in the middle of the night on some stranger’s car. You weren’t making the scene any more discreet with all your pathetic groans, your hands pulling at his shirt to hold onto something. Your mind became cloudy, panting and sobbing like a real whore. Daichi’s just enjoying the sight of you ruined underneath him, slapping you in the face once more to snap you back from your daydream causing you to gasp. The sting faded as his hand went to stroke the blow with his thumb, the rest of his hand lifting your chin.

“Look at me. Don’t cum until I say so, got it? I feel your greedy cunt sucking me up already.” He says, thumb pressing up against your clit just to make it harder for you to contain yourself. You feel your walls squeeze him, whimpering with every vein of this cock sliding in and out of your walls so addictively. Your hands claw at his back, drooling into his shoulder as you start trying to grind your hips to change the pace. He grunts and holds you still as he slides his thick cock in and out of you slower to tease you, smirking when you start to cry.

“Pl-Please go faster, Da-Daddy, please, I can’t-” You whine, interrupted by a harsh slap to your outer thigh causing you to yelp.

“You can and you will. Daddy’s almost there, c’mon. You don’t want me to punish you out here, do you?” He coos, opening your mouth by squishing your cheeks together, spitting on your tongue and tapping your chin. You shake your head and try your best to take him for a little while longer, your slick oozing all over the hood of the car you were pinned to. As your eyes roll back, you feel Daichi’s cock start to throb intensely, a sign he was close. Relief was soon to come.

“G’head and cum for daddy, baby. Want you throbbing for me, c’mon, you wanted to cum so bad.” Daichi urged, swiftly flicking your clit to help you. You cum in a flash, white lights shining behind your eyes as you scream his name. Seconds later he fills you, pumping his hot seed into your pussy before pulling out to watch it spill out onto the cold metal of the car.

“Sloppy little whore.” He spits, taking his fingers to scoop it up and shove it inside you, pumping his fingers to secure it inside. You pant, your thighs trembling as Daichi hoists you up on his back to carry you the rest of the way home.

Your eyes close, humming as you lean into his shoulder. A silent “I love you”. The walk was silent and safe, dozing off on Daichi’s shoulder as he trudged through the mean streets of the neighborhood you both lived in.

#haikyuu!! smut #daichi sawamura #daichi smut #haikyuu hinata #haikyuu smut #.club specials 💗💋#.vice city 🎲

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thatoneitaliangirl · 4 years ago

Note

Umm hellooo 👉👈 may I request Venti’s fem s/o asking to have a baby with her? After they’re married and stuff ofc ehchvhgggvb

Hi! Sorry this took me so long, I'm taking a summer class this semester and life is crazy and ahhhhhhh!

Anyway, here is your story! It's not very long, but I hope you find it entertaining! I didn't mention if they were married or not, but you can assume they are if you want to. I left it open to interpretation.

Thank you so much for requesting this from me and I hope you have a wonderful day!

Venti x Reader

About- Venti want's to talk to reader about having a baby.

Warnings- Mentions of superficial wounds from a commission, implied sexy times at the end.

Word count- 1,074

Something has been on Venti's mind for a while now.

Being immortal, he's never truly thought about having kids. Sure, he's seen them around Mondstadt and plays with them like the kid at heart he is, but one of his own? He's not even sure if it's possible!

But, then he met you.

He didn't even know who you were, you just showed up in Mondstadt one day looking for commissions. But there was something about you he couldn't quite place that made you feel special to him for some reason. He tried asking you, but you avoided him like the plague. It wasn't until you decided to help out the traveler with a commission that he finally had the opportunity to talk to you.

He and the traveler are tight, so they didn't mind him tagging along. You, on the other hand, did NOT seem pleased. Every little comment he made, every stride he took, every time he laughed, you looked physically in pain. Like his mere presence was just too much for you to handle. And when you fought, you just looked so familiar . . .

He finally got the courage to corner you after the fight and ask you and was extremely shocked at the news. Apparently, during the Archon war, you two had fought. It was a misunderstanding; you, a small god new to the world and scared, were just trying to defend your territory. And Barbatos being merciful, let you escape. He honestly didn't think you'd make it, being as weak as you were. But somehow you were able to survive and live in hiding for many years.

A god without people or land, wandering aimlessly for hundreds of years with no sense of belonging.

You had avoided Mondstadt for so long but finally decided to stay for a bit. After all, their god had been gone for a very long time. Boy, were you wrong.

But in the end, you two settled your differences. You're still incredibly weak, hardly would anyone call you a god in this day and age. Despite this, you've done your best to protect the people you've come across, defeating hilichurls and Abyss mages on your travels. Weak or not though, you are still a god.

One with a Gnosis just like his own. So, in good faith and a bit of a guilty conscience, Venti decided to help you. He didn't want the Tsaritsa to find out about you, especially since they don't know what she plans on doing. The best thing for you would be to stay by his side. And so you did.

Neither of you expected to fall in love with each other, but those things just happen.

But, that brings us back to the present and back to our original thought.

Does Venti want kids with you? Yes, yes he does. But do you?

He looks at you from across the room. You just got back from a commission about an hour ago and are dressing your wounds. Venti walks over and hands you fresh water and you thank him. It pains him to see you hurt. You heal faster than a normal human, but nowhere near as fast as him. Sometimes, he sees the Traveler in you, and you in them. Both powerful in your own right, but weak compared to a god.

"I'm sorry." Venti whispers, just audible enough to hear. You look up at him and laugh.

"Venti, how many times do I have to tell you? Stop apologizing! I've survived this long without your help, haven't I?" He smiles back, sitting next to you. Your smile always brings his mood back up.

"Well, if I had been there, you probably wouldn't have gotten as banged up. You sure you don't want my help?" You roll your eyes.

"Positive, Ven." Venti watches as you clean up, noting nothing too severe. A few cuts, a few scrapes, no worse than poor Benny gets daily. He swallows and sighs. Should he ask you? Maybe now's not the time.

"Why are you looking so melancholy, Ven? Cat got your lyre strings?" His eyes widen.

"Please, don't curse me with that!" You laugh, a perfect melody to his ears. Venti bites his lip and decides to give in.

"I have something very important to ask you," He looks up at you, looking into your eyes. Very rarely do you see him this serious.

"You don't have to answer right away- you don't have to answer at all if you don't want to, but . . . It's just . . . I," You look at him, concern filling your eyes and he's entranced.

'Abort mission, ABORT-'

"Maybe I'll ask later-!" He tries to get up, but you grab him by the wrist and pull him down. Elementally you may be weak, but physically? All those years of training and fighting have gained you some muscles! Much more than Venti has, at least. Not that that's saying much.

"Venti, what's the matter? You know you can talk to me about anything, right?" He lets out a defeated sigh and shuts his eyes tight.

"Iwannahaveababywithyou!" You blink in surprise.

"I'm sorry, what?" Venti opens his eyes and looks at you.

"I want to-" You nod encouragingly.

"Have a baby with . . . You . . ."

"Oh."

"Oh?" You cough into your hand.

"Well, I hadn't really thought about it. But," You look up at Venti, a nervous but bright smile on your face.

"I love you more than life itself. Having a baby with you, starting our own little family . . . It sounds . . ." You laugh and pull him into a hug.

"It sounds amazing Venti!" Relief floods off of Venti as he tightens the hug, pulling you as close to him as he can. He never thought you would actually say yes! I mean, there are so many reasons you could have said no, but you said yes!

"You're the muse to my music, the melody to my song, and the meaning to the words that I sing. Having a family with you would make me the happiest man in all of Teyvat!" You pull back from the hug seeing tears of joy run down Venti's face.

"You're so corny, Ven!" Venti smirks and wiggles his eyebrows.

"I may be corny, but I'm also something else that rhymes with it!"

"Oh my gods, Venti!"

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact venti #genshin impact venti x reader #venti #venti x reader

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parkers-gal · 4 years ago

Note

Can you please write one where the reader is singing about her ex and breaks down crying and Tom comforts her

if you’ve seen the bbc videos of ari g then this will make a lot more sense <3 (i subconsciously chose ag!reader for this so... enjoy)

wc | 1.5k

｡☆✼★━━ requests are closed ━━★✼☆｡

Today, you’ve planned to record every song off of your thank u, next album with BBC radio in the Live Lounge, just as you did years ago with a few songs from sweetener. It’s been almost three years since your number one album came out, and some of the songs are still yet to be performed live.

You love recording with BBC radio — your band and backup singers are just as included as you are, and there’s always a few invited fans up on the balcony to silently sing along. This isn’t the BBC special, considering you didn’t want to make a big deal out of this. But, because you decided to opt out of the television special, you’ve decided to include a few unperformed songs like “in my head” and “ghostin.”

Clad in a black hoodie, faded jeans and thick platform sneakers, you’re seated on the bar stool in front of the microphone stand. The keyboard player sits behind your right side, your backup singers in a studio box beside his set up. To your left is the drummer and two guitar players — one on the bass and the other on the electric guitar.

In front of you, behind the camera lens, seats Tom in his famous shit happens! Hoodie. His curls are messy and he wears a genuine smile, beaming at you while you put in your in-ears.

With a nod to the camera man, you give your final look of approval to the drummer before the camera starts rolling and the intro to “imagine” starts playing. Tom clasps his hands on his lap; he’s sitting cross legged on a shaggy rug with your favorite stuffed animal in his arms. He’s got a blanket beside him despite the fact that he’s perfectly content with his hoodie and jeans. He looks so soft and gentle, and you want nothing more than to sit beside him and sing your heart out, but alas, you stay put and settle on locking eyes with him while you belt the chorus to the first track of your fifth studio album.

Eventually, the song ends, and after successfully doing the whistles, you take a gulp of water before giving the producer another thumbs up. “Needy” plays and you start singing the intro with as much emotion as you can muster — the album makes you nostalgic. You made it during a time of heartbreak and self deprivation, where you were drunk off your ass and all you had was music to therapize yourself. It brings all those emotions back in a rushing flood of remembrance.

But here, in front of you after so much time, you see Tom with a supporting smile and eye dimples that make you want to write a thousand songs about him. You have love you didn’t have before, and that’s enough.

For the first time ever, you perform “in my head” live. You can already tell that twitter is going to flip when the video releases. As you sing the verses, you try to contain up as much consistency as you can, though your voice wavers slightly and you can feel yourself getting emotional. You power through, though, and when the song finally ends, you release a deep breath and drink some water.

Tom mouths a question, wondering if you’re alright. You assure him as best you can, giving him a small smile and a little thumbs up. You have approximately two minutes to compose yourself, seeing as they’ve brought in a few strings players for the next song. You’re singing the album slightly out of order — not that it matters much, but you are.

The producer, who’s behind the camera, gives you another notion with his hands, informing you silently that the next song is starting. You nod, setting down your bottled water and waiting for your cue.

With a shaky inhale, you let the beginning of “ghostin” consume your body. You’ve done this in the studio, when you first recorded the song. But it’s been so long since you've sung the song all the way through. And even then, you’ve never done it publically.

You take a deep breath one last time before you start singing. You see Tom from the corner of your eye, and you remind yourself that everything is okay, and that these wounds are healed and you’ve grown from the tragedy that was captured in your music.

You finish the chorus for the first time, successfully making it through the first verse. Not without a few stumbles and sniffles, though. When you begin on the second verse, everything comes rushing back to you — moments with Mac and moments with Pete, and moments with Pete where you’re grieving Mac and breaking Pete’s heart. It’s all too much at once and you realize you should’ve tried to rehearse it beforehand.

You wince at yourself, face contorting into that of a pained expression while you attempt to prolong the waterworks. You gasp into the microphone, skipping a few beats and a line in the verse to somehow compose yourself.

Everyone seems to be on edge, realizing how this might not play over well. Tom, though, is especially on edge, antsy while he watches you. He’s reading your body language, decoding your silent thoughts. He knows you’re going to break any second, he knows you’re not going to make it through the song, and while that’s okay, he knows you might not think so. He wants to be there, though, when you do break. It’s his job.

Your hands are shaky while you move up to grip the microphone in hopes of reminding yourself of where you are and what you’re doing. It’s a lost cause, though. You gasp into the microphone again, and suddenly you’re sobbing into the speaker.

You mumble out a quick, “I’m sorry,” before rushing out of the room, stepping off the chair and making your way away from the cameras as quickly as possible. You can hear a few gasps and murmurs from the few fans and the stage crew members, but you don’t pay them any mind,

Tom was off his ass as fast as you were, dropping the stuffed toy and racing after you with crazy curls and furrowed brows.

“Love? Love,” his gentle hands grip your arms and you gasp again, trying to breathe through your thick sobs. He shushes you, “It’s alright, baby. I’m here, I’m here, It's just me.”

You’re hidden away in his chest, nodding as best you can. Tom’s heart breaks as he feels you come apart in his hands. He doesn’t cry, though, not when he needs to make sure you’re okay,

Your nimble hands grip his hoodie tightly, balling up the cloth in your fists. Tom holds you carefully, arms around your waist while he tries to help you control your breathing.

“In ‘nd out, like this, yeah?” You nod, following his heavy breaths. “Everything’s gonna be okay.” He sucks in a breath, unsure on how to approach the topic. “You were good enough, baby. Everything that happened isn’t your fault — it never was, and it never will be.”

You peer up at him, lifting your head and wiping your eyes, You sniffle again, and Tom turns his head in hopes of finding a box of tissues. He’s grateful when a crew member is already standing by with a box in his hands. He leaves the two of you be after successfully handing Tom the box.

“Here, love,” he strokes your back with his hand while you blow your nose into the tissue. After a few silent beats, he breaks the quietness. “Y'alright, darling?”

You nod, wiping your nose with the edge of your palm before pulling the sleeves of your sweater down to cover your hands. You use the sleeves to wipe at the stray tears, and when you finally look at Tom, you wearily smile gratefully.

“Thank you, Tommy.” Your voice is timid and gentle, quite a contrast to the way he heard you singing not twenty minutes ago — before “ghostin” fucked with your mind. “Don’t know what i’d do without you.”

“Of course, my love.” He offers a smile, one you slowly return. “You wanna go back out there?”

You nod, silently leading the way while anxiously rubbing your palms on your jean-clad thigh. As soon as you step back into the Live Lounge, a round of applause goes around until everyone is clapping and cheering for you, including Tom. It warms your heart, and you laugh for the first time after crying, right into the microphone for everyone to hear.

“Thank you all so much,” you swallow thickly while the clapping settles down. “I’m so sorry about that. Let's give this another try, yeah?”

The producer mouths something at you, “Are you sure?”

You nod, almost excitedly, and he speaks into his headset. The camera starts rolling and the strings start “ghostin’s” introduction. With one final deep breath, you lock eyes with your sweet British boy right as you start the first verse again. This time, you make it all the way through. For the first time.

#tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x singer!reader #tom holland x ag!reader #tom holland x famous!reader #tom holland x celebrity!reader #ag!reader #tom holland fic #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fluff #tom holland angst #tom holland imagine #tom holland oneshot #tom holland blurb #tom holland fanfiction

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hypnomicimagines · 4 years ago

Text

Fateful Meeting [Ninja!Harai Kuko/Reader]

The young ninja’s eyes were sharp, intense, so much so it felt like you were looking into the sun.

You looked down and away from his glare as you continued to tend to his wounds, ignoring the way he shifted uncomfortably, like he didn’t want you touching him at all. But he was the one who had stumbled upon your home a complete bloody mess, barely conscious as he looked up at you with pleading eyes, a moment of weakness when he thought he was on death’s door. Now that you had given him water and stopped his wound from bleeding his normal temperament had come back, and something told you he wasn’t the most pleasant dinner guest to have.

You had just finished bandaging him up when he abruptly stood, grabbing your wrist to stop you from reaching out to touch him again. You shared a look, wondering if he was the type of ninja to have taken a vow of silence before he opened his mouth for the first time.

“What do you want?” His tone is harsh but you think it’s likely just the way he sounds, if his looks are anything to go by. “You wasted your healing supplies on me, so what is it you want in return?”

“I don’t expect you to repay my kindness. Kindness isn’t kindness if it’s done expecting gratitude. Although I do suggest you spend some more time here recovering before you go anywhere…” Kuko’s eyes widened ever so slightly at your words but he doesn’t allow you to fully see his surprise, his neutral expression returning just as quickly as it had left. He adjusted the mask on his face as he stepped towards the door, ignoring your pleas for him to sit and rest a while longer.

“I always repay my debts.”

“Wait! Can’t you tell me your name at least? Or is that part of the whole secretive ninja clan thing you clearly have going on?” He hesitated for a second at your request, so simple to you yet to him… it was a show of trust. To willingly give your name to a stranger could mean terrible things for someone whose job was to blend in with the night; it would be better if you could forget he was ever even there which is why he becomes even more surprised when he spoke.

“Harai Kuko. Don’t forget it!” There’s a little more emotion in his introduction, a little less cold and far more personality shining through (which reaffirmed your assumption he was not the type of guest to bring home to your parents). But you found yourself charmed by him all the same, gentle smile on your face as you waved goodbye, his name just a whisper on the wind with how quickly he was gone.

You’re in awe at how such a bright shock of red hair managed to fade perfectly into the darkness but he’s gone from your view within seconds, leaving you reeling at the experience, wondering if it had only been a dream. The bloodied bed where he laid as you tended to him told otherwise but you tried not to think too deeply on it, grabbing the sheets to toss into your laundry pile to clean later. You cleaned up the scraps of your bandages and tidied your home like no one had been there, knowing that you had to sleep soon as you couldn’t burn the candle at both ends. You had to be up early for your patients the next morning as well since the work never seemed to end in the midst of the war.

As you’re finishing up there’s several aggressive knocks at your door, your body suddenly tensed as something feels off. Ever since your late-night visitor had left you felt an odd sensation in your chest, this anxiety unwavering in the heavy night air as you wondered how things could possibly get more interesting. When you’re greeted with the sight of two heavy-set men your anxiety finds itself skyrocketing, finding yourself backed into the corner of your own home as they make themselves comfortable.

“Excuse us for intruding. We just happened to see a trail of blood leading here… Are you alright?” His tone indicated he was not at all concerned about your well-being so you didn’t reply, instead trying to fix him with a steady stare that said ‘I’ve done nothing wrong’. “Ah, I see, the quiet type. I don’t mind that however… we’re tracking down a certain menace. A man with bright red hair who we heavily injured earlier today.”

“Why are you asking me?”

“Are you not the resident healer?”

“I am… but that blood trail could have just as easily been from an injured boar who was fighting for territory in the woods. Assuming it was human is a leap.”

“Might I ask why you’re still awake?”

“Some nights my mind keeps me awake with all sorts of thoughts, like whether or not I have to go into town to get more herbs and the like. You’re awfully inquisitive, are you perhaps looking to become a healer rather than being a person who supplies me patients?”

Your temper started to flare up despite you trying to carefully navigate the conversation, wanting these people who clearly came here to threaten you out of your home. You’d dealt with their type before, absolute savages, and you don’t appreciate their intrusion. You’re fonder of the random man who was bleeding out on your doorstep than these people who hurt just because they could, who bullied because they knew people were too afraid to stand up to them. Your irritation doesn’t go unnoticed but is returned with a heavy silence and glares, the two men who had forced their way in their home looming over you menacingly.

Perhaps you should’ve just gone straight to bed.

Kuko hadn’t made it far.

As headstrong as he was even he couldn’t deny the pain his body was in, his wounds aching as they hadn’t closed properly. He was normally far more respectful of the healers back at the temple but he was in a hurry, needing to report back to his father his findings immediately. He didn’t want to bring those hunting him to you either, it would be bad news as they seemed to have no issue slaughtering innocents left and right. He felt like there was a boulder in his gut that was slowing his movements, his body not able to move as nimbly until he’s finally forced to stop. He doesn’t know how far he’s gotten nor how much time has passed but he’s bleeding again.

It’s either turn back towards your hut or continue forward in hopes of finding another healer.

Something else is pulling him back towards you, like you’d attached strings to his body and were pulling at him to come back behind the curtain. Kuko bit his tongue hard to keep himself conscious, leaning against a tree, taking a deep breath, and then starting the journey back to your home. He’d have to prepare a proper apology for impeding on you so late at night but the sudden sense of urgency that rushed through his body stopped his needless worrying, walking forward with a huff.

He didn’t know why but he had to get back to you.

Now.

Your head is pounding as you lay in a crumpled heap on the floor, hands raising to cover your head to prevent further damage to your skull. You’d be in more pain if you were fully conscious but you’re only partially aware of what’s happening to you, your house in shambles around you. The place had been torn apart, the bloody bandages from earlier thrown across the room as they had been found during a ‘mandatory search’. The table you had been sitting at was flipped over and jars of needed herbs were tossed on the floor, even worse, now your own blood was staining the floor.

You’re fighting to stay awake, eyes scanning the floor for anything to defend yourself with but it was a fruitless endeavor. Your hands were meant to heal not harm, you weren’t suited for anything like this, and your assailants were clearly far more skilled than the average soldier. You wished you could say you put up a better fight than the pathetic mess that actually happened but there wasn’t time for self-pity.

“Hey you bastards! Didn’t hurt your pride enough after round one?”

Ninja’s are supposed to be quiet, stealthy, but Kuko had burst onto the scene like some sort of hero in a play. You’re wide-eyed as you spot the shock of red hair but your vision is so blurry and your brain so scrambled you’re worried you’re just hallucinating him. Your eyes met his for a second, your pleading reaching Kuko’s heart immediately; if he hadn’t been so carefully trained his entire life, he thinks his anger might’ve exploded in that moment, causing him to do something he’d regret. To see someone who had treated him with kindness, without asking any extra questions about who he was, someone who was likely innocent and had no means of defending themselves…

It pissed him off.

You hear the sound of skin on skin, some cackling that you’re sure is your ninja savior despite how high-pitched and wicked it sounded, and what you hope isn’t your house getting torn into even more pieces. Your face was buried in your arms as you were growing more exhausted, knowing the moon must be high in the sky at this point. You should’ve been in bed hours ago. Who would help your patients tomorrow when you could hardly help yourself? You weakly managed to bring your head up to survey the room around you but it’s suddenly silent, not a soul in sight until Kuko re-enters your home from the front door.

“Should I ask where you took them or just rely on blind faith?”

“You don’t have to blindly trust me but those assholes got what they deserved,” Kuko scoffed as he walked over to you, lifting you effortlessly so he could bring you over to your little bed (which had stayed clear of any debris). “Shit, I’m tired.”

Your eyes widened as Kuko lowered the mask so he could breathe a little easier, his face so smooth except for a scar on the underside of his chin. You can see a few more scars peeking out from the tears in his clothes but you don’t allow your mind to wander. Kuko is currently questioning why he just revealed his face in front of a civilian without thinking twice about the consequences, knowing this was yet another rule he had broken. There was a strict code all ninja were expected to follow and he’d already broken at least two rules, even more because he actually found himself liking you. He would be lucky if he got out of this unscathed by his father, not that he gave a damn what that shitty old man had to say to him, but he’d rather make his life easier.

“You’re bleeding… your wound from before reopened, didn’t it? I need to help you…”

Kuko shied away from your touch but you can see he’s actively fighting his body’s natural response to protect himself, freezing in place to allow you to place a hand on his shoulder. You kept your movements deliberately slow to prove you meant no harm, not like you could even consider raising a hand to him after he had saved you from who knows what kind of fate. He had half a mind to argue with you about trying to help him when you were injured yourself but he was too tired to even argue, his dad would’ve laughed if he heard that one.

“We should sleep…” After you had replaced his bandages with clean one you sent an exasperated look to your home, disliking the fact it was so messy despite none of it being your fault.

“We can just clean tomorrow.” Kuko flopped himself unceremoniously onto the floor beside your bed, hands behind his head like a pillow with his legs crossed; he winced a bit at the impact but otherwise gave no indication he was uncomfortable. You’re about to question his decision to sleep directly beside you but there really didn’t seem to be enough room in your home with a table flipped over in the middle of it, so it was easier to just settle yourself in beside him and hope he wasn’t secretly some pervert.

Wait, did he say we?

“So, you’re going to stay this time?” You turned on your side to look at him, “I could use some extra help in the woods tomorrow… It shouldn’t be too rough a walk with your injuries… but I guess it’s selfish of me to ask a stranger to just help me out with my own chores…”

“Hmph. I guess I can help.” Kuko’s eyes are closed yet he’s unable to sleep, peaking one open when he hears you shuffling around next to him in an attempt to get comfortable. Even with a bruise forming on your temple you’re as stunning as ever, the young ninja biting his lip as he wondered how much of this was a sense of duty and how much was just him indulging his personal desires.

“Thank you…” You finally whispered out as sleep overcame you.

Kuko is left speechless, cheeks warm as he tries to settle his rapidly beating heart.

#Harai Kuko #Kuko Harai #Hypnosis Mic #Hypnosis Microphone #Hypnomic #Hypnosis Mic Imagines #Hypnosis Microphone Imagines #Hypnosis Mic x Reader #Hypnosis Microphone x Reader #Harai Kuko x Reader #Hypnosis Mic Scenario #Scenario #AU

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ktheist · 4 years ago

Text

in another life (i would be your man)

muses. hero!yoongi / assassin!yoongi / father!yoongi / lawyer!yoongi

word. 2.5k

genre. reincarnation au

time and time again, you find yourselves in the other’s absolute mercy.

mercy, which both of you know, the other will not grant.

“have you any last words, hero?” the grass shrivels up around yoongi all because hot air wilts the greenest of life.

a single bead of sweat trickles down the side of yoongi’s face as he looks at you without a shred of fear in the face of death.

“all the gold you’re hoarding... does it bring you happiness?” he says, as though already finding serendipity before you can even drive your talon into his chest.

“happiness!” you roar, mockery dripping off your word, “such humanly sentiments. you forgot who you’re speaking to, hero.”

“yoongi... yoongi’s my name” he sighs softly, eyelids fluttering shut, “say it.”

it is you who fall silent this time.

to say the name of the soul who’s bound to you not for love but for destruction... have you the right?

in your last life, a good few hundred years ago, he’s the one that drove the cross into your chest.

in the one before that, you burn him at the stakes for the wretched powers he held.

in this lifetime, even the armor made of the silver cannot withstand the weight of your paw, talon digging into his chest as he lays underneath you, ready to accept the heroic death.

“very well, if not in this lifetime, then perhaps the next...”

you live for three human lifetimes as the great dragon who brought the continent together. the humans, without their hero, are mere mortals. they learned better than to put their faith in one man.

in the next lifetime, you find yourself kneeling in front of a silver haired man - what a striking hair color for someone who’s supposed to be on the low.

“my hand’s gonna slip,” that gravelly voice still sends shivers down your spine.

“what-” you breathe out, eyebrows knitting together.

he takes his aim.

but there’s something wrong.

the angle he’s pointing at will graze your cheek and ear at most.

then he shoots.

when the bullet bounces against the cement somewhere a few inches away behind you, your body moves on its own. your leg sweep out to send him tumbling down onto the ground. your thighs pin his hips down so he can’t get up and you push the gun farther beyond his reach.

“why are you doing this?” you hiss, knife against his throat.

“don’t you think we owe it to ourselves to be happy?” yoongi says simply, too complacent for a man who’s about to lose yet another life to his enemy.

“that’s not how it works,” teeth gritted together, you press the dulled side of the knife harder against his snow-kissed flesh.

“then, how does it work?” he asks.

for a moment, you’re frozen in place. then you’re taken back to where it all begins.

you were a queen who poisoned her king before proceeding to ruin the kingdom until it remains but a memory to those who’ve lived through your tyrannical era. yoongi was the crown prince from a small country who enticed you into his chambers and kept you locked in a tower like a caged bird while he went to war with the neighboring kingdom with your kingdom’s army.

“i- i hated you for seducing me and locking me up in that tower,” you murmur, breath shaky, “a- and you hated me because i-i couldn’t be killed... because i was...”

“a blood sucker.” he finishes for you.

a flash of anger crosses your eyes and paint your vision red. you press the knife harder - no doubt there would be a bruise, “no matter how immortal i was... i died because of a broken heart. you killed me!”

“i was breaking my own heart for having to keep you locked in that tower but if i let you go...” he trails off, his hand coming to settle on yours.

it’s the first time you hear him choke up.

“so many died because of our love,” yoongi’s voice comes out barely above whisper.

“your sin is mistaking hate for love,” you flick your wrist, switching the side of the blade pressed against his neck to one that could cut through clean and swift.

but before you can seal yet another lifetime of your surviving, a sharp pain cuts into your arm, forcing you to release the blade, your free hand cupping the familiar circular wound that’s gushing with blood.

you push yourself off him, going over the ledge and jumping off to your safety. and yoongi’s left in the cold, night air, the coms in his ear buzzing back to life.

it’s six months later that he finds you, dressed in deep red, smiling seductively as you cling on a man twice your age. all of a sudden, he finds himself ignoring whatever his partner’s saying in the coms and approaching you and the man.

yoongi can barely remember what he said but he remembers the overwhelming feeling of relief when the man pushes you off and march out of the room, shouting russian vulgarities.

“planting a bullet hole in my arm isn’t enough, you just had to sabotage my mission, don’t you?” you’re on top of him once again but the ground isn’t cold and hard as he’s always remembered in the series of you pinning him down in differing lifetimes.

“have you thought about what i said?” he doesn’t look like he minds it anymore.

being pinned down by you, that is.

rather, yoongi quite likes the view of your cleavage when you lean down close enough to whisper into his hears, “i reflected on my past mistakes... and truly, i wish nothing more than to have you gone from my sight once and for all.”

then his index finger ghosts over the softest protrusion of the healed up scar on your arm. and you feel goosebumps on your skin.]

you leave in the morning, slipping out of the hotel room in that skin tight maroon dress, noticing the woman in the lobby, looking like what you would’ve looked like if you were waiting for your partner who went against orders and checked into a room in the very same hotel he was supposed to eliminate his target at.

sloppy. fucking sloppy.

yoongi never sees you after that. he got reprimanded and almost got eliminated by his own agency if it hadn’t been his father, the head of the extermination department who pulled some strings and buried the matter.

it’s a surprise he’s still alive at the age of of thirty-one, owning a lawfirm of his own and living the life he’s never thought he’d have.

a normal one.

then, he spots you, walking down the sidewalk holding a toddler’s hand and smiling down at him like he’s the most precious thing you’ve ever hold dear to.

“stop the car,” yoongi orders.

“s-sir?” the driver, surprised by the sudden request, hesitates.

“pull over!” it’s the first time the young man has ever hear his boss raise his voice.

so he does just that, but a block away from where yoongi last saw you.

he runs as fast as his legs could carry him. but the sidewalk is empty of a woman holding a child’s hand.

it takes another year of him searching records of faces and names. for you have many and unlike yoongi, he’s sure you have no one to pull the strings and make one blunder disappear.

then he finds you, under a pseudonym, of a certain kim hana whose child is named kim youngsoo.

“it’s me,” he announces, stepping into the light that pours past the window and over not even half of the room.

“mommy, can we order pizza?” youngsoo’s lively voice rings from outside of the room.

“yeah, why don’t you decide what toppings you want and i’ll be out there in a sec, sweetie,” your voice sounds heavenly - none of the guarded strain that he usually hears. but your eyes, they look like the eyes of a woman who would give everything to protect her most precious possession.

“so it was you... one year ago,” you say, ambling to the dresser where yoongi easily finds out your motive.

“the gun’s not there anymore, you really think i’d break into the house of an ex-assassin and not think to look for weapons tacked up somewhere out of sight?” he hears the frustrated sigh you make before you stand with your feet apart.

looks like you believe his words.

looks like you’ve got no problems taking him on with bare hands.

“he’s mine, isn’t he?”

a scoff.

“you’re pretty dumb if you think one night’s all it takes to get pregnant with your bastard child.”

“who’s the father, then? why isn’t he around?” he presses on.

and his questions have always been intrusive but you notice the weight of his every inquiry. as if he’d drop dead right this instant if you don’t answer them.

“he walked away, couldn’t accept that we had to always be on the move just because he had a baby with a wanted woman.”

and it’s not the police that wants you.

“his social security number?” yoongi shoots you another question.

“i don’t know. i don’t remember,” you say simply, a shrug accompanying your answer.

“number one rule of being an assassin: never forget anything,” yoongi recites easily, even after five years, he still recalls the drilling his mentor forced him through, “so that leaves us with one possibility: he doesn’t exist, this ex of yours.”

“mooooom.” youngsoo calls out, sounding too close for comfort.

“just a minute, sweetie. why don’t you take my phone out of my bag and get ready to dial up the number to the pizza place?” there’s a lightness in your tone.

envy wraps around yoongi’s heart before he even realizes it. how he wished you’d speak to him in that delicate, loving tone as well.

“look, i’m tired, i’m done playing games, i’ve been done since that night. i know i fucked up and i know some day i’ll pay for it but not tonight... tonight... at least let me have one last night with my kid.”

it’s the way the word ‘my’ and ‘kid’ fall naturally off your mouth that makes yoongi realize that he’s the one stuck in the beginning all along. that he’s the one who couldn’t move on from the past even though he sought to change the present and threw your world upside down when he decided not to take the shot.

before he can say anything, you’re already out of the door but he senses no rush in your footsteps.

“do you have the pizza place’s number down?” there it is again, the soft, tender tilt in your voice.

it’s a little faint but he hears it clearly.

and it may very well just be a trick to make him sympathize but what is he to sympathize with when he’s only here to ask for confirmation?

why do you treat him like death who’s finally come to take back your borrowed time?

well, the answer was simple.

“i paid off the bounty,” yoongi meets you at a cafe where he knows you’ll feel safer.

no assassin will make a move in broad daylight, in public, with his face out for the cameras to record.

“how much?” you sound like you just got another loan tying you down.

“enough that they can’t resist,” he states.

and before you can even say anything, he goes on, “i want to see him.”

“no.” you say curtly.

“he’s my child too.” he slides the white envelope he pulls out of his pocket to you.

it contains the dna results from the hair on the comb youngsoo complained he lost and yoongi’s own hair.

“he’s doesn’t need a father,” you don’t even give the envelope a second glance, “if that’s all-”

“that’s not for you to decide on your own,” he cuts you off.

it’s the firmness in his tone that makes your eyebrows rise. min yoongi has always been a gentle soul. even when he was driving a cross into your heart, he’d done it with the heaviest heart.

and for him to place his foot down like this - how very unlike him.

which is why, when he pulls, you pull harder.

“if you so much as appear in front of youngsoo, we will disappear and i’ll make sure you’ll never us again.”

and with that, you take out the blank check from your purse and slip it over to him. the check and the envelop laying side by side.

money isn’t the issue, you’ve managed to wire every single penny you have to different bank accounts before the agency could even freeze the one in seoul. it took several trips to japan, hong kong and china but you eventually got enough to start a new life with your new life.

and that new life of yours is being shaken by the presence of an entity of the past.

you begin noticing the men and women dressed in plain clothing standing a few feet away from where you and youngsoo go. they’re there, acting absolutely normal which makes it unnormal. always watching, always being on guard as if their lives depend on you and youngsoo’s security.

it goes on for another three months before you finally get tired of it and approach one of them, “call your boss over.”

youngsoo’s blowing bubbles at the park when a sleek black car pulls up at the curb and a familiar face steps out.

“you can see him every week on saturdays, one no-show and you’re out. also- i decide when he finds out,” you set the rules and yoongi looks like he a little kid who’s about to perform at his school’s talent show, “do we have a deal?”

“absolutely,” he nods readily.

yoongi’s hand moves on its own and he almost hooks his index finger around your pinky finger as if asking for some kind of emotional support. but he stops himself.

he walks beside you, watching as you walk out from under the shades of the tree, your expression instantaneously brightening when the sunlight hits, “youngsoo-ah,” you wave the toddler over.

his little legs comes running towards you, curious, bright eyes staring at yoongi and right through his soul. he’s never felt so bare and defenseless.

the only thing that keeps him from running away is the fondness in your voice. and the smile on your face that he’s never seen before, “youngsoo-ah, this is uncle yoongi, he’s mommy’s friend...”

yoongi musters the best smile he can - he never needed to try. it’s the people around him that force smiles to please him. never the other way around. never him having to smile so he wouldn’t scare off his son.

he crouches in front of the child that’s partially hiding behind you, “youngsoo-ah, it’s nice to finally meet you.”

#bts fic #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #yoongi fic #yoongi fanfiction #yoongi fanfic #yoongi smut #bts smut #yoongi imagines #bts imagines #bts scenarios #yoongi scenarios #bts au #yoongi au

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creativeashproductions · 4 years ago

Text

Healed by the Music // Luke Patterson

Summary: After the fallout of reckless behaviour and forced to return back home the reader had rediscovered her love for music. Close with her family once more her band Graveyard Petals receives an offer that could turn around the band’s tarnished reputation. The only issue is not wanting to hurt those close by leaving.

Warnings: Swearing, talk of death, angst, and fluff

Words: 3.3k

A/N: The second and final part to a lovely little series I had grown to love, the first part is Drowning From the Past. I came up with the band name so if you want to use it send an ask and we talk about it. This is set after the first season and Ray can now see them after the whole Golden glow thing.

Part One - Drowning in the Past

Masterlist

In the months you retreated back to Los Feliz the band had grown exponentially bringing in more revenue with merch. The social media followers grew as well with the hope of a new photo posted of you and the band. The most recent teased new music coming.

Speaking of music, it seemed to pour out of your body into two notebooks unknown to both your sister and her band—the band of ghosts that become massive fans of Graveyard Petals when Julie played full-length debut album Dahlia. Luke had even collaborated on a song for your band; his name the first of writing credits.

Now, seven months after the shameful return the band had gotten the offer of a lifetime to open for 5 Seconds of Summer on a world tour. The issue came with talking with Julie, and the guys gave you had shown your father you had healed.

"Hey, what's been up with you lately?" Julie asked, seating herself in the swing right beside you. Her hair pulled away from her youthful face.

Whenever you looked at Julie, you saw Mom with the gorgeous hair and gleeful smile that brightened a room. Even on your mom's death bed, the room flared with that same smile in every picture in albums and on the walls. Sometimes you swore the piano in the studio bath in the warm light brought by the one person that taught you and Julie to play.

"I've been thinking." You simply spoke eyes focused on the park that had been a massive part of your life.

Every year Rose and Ray Molina had brought their three children to the very park the two had met years before. Rose would bring flowers to a specific bench, and every time you asked why she had the same answer.

Little Y/N was a precocious child inquisitive of the world around her held at an arms life by her parents. Skilled at singing and natural affinity for music it worried Rose, in her eldest child she recognized something. The intense passion and talent that a particular guitarist had once displayed on a stage that would have changed everything.

"It a place of absolute joy and acceptance. Four legends came together in front of that very bench."

Rose would never know about the place had Bobby not subconsciously led her there for the first time mere hours after the devastating loss. He had collapsed to his knees, pleading for his best friends, his brothers to return. In broken sobs, he had told Rose that this park, this bench was the first place Sunset Curve played. Band fresh and still unnamed they had gotten confident enough to set up near the bench to start building a following.

Now it was eight years after the first visit with Bobby who started going by Trevor a year after the loss. The fresh-faced boy that had flirted with Rose had changed, and at that time, Rose wasn't sure it was a good or bad thing.

"It was the guys Mom left the flowers for." Julie started following your eyesight to the bench that had a fresh bouquet. A single dahlia in the middle of the flowers for your mother.

"Yeah." You softly spoke, turning to focus on the girl that had healed through music. Seeing how grownup Julie had become hurt your heart. Julie wasn't a child anymore, and you wished she never went through what you did for months.

The two Molina girls sat in comfortable silence with minds thinking the most opposite things possible.

"5 Seconds of Summer is going on tour. We should try and score some tickets when they come to LA." Julie spoke, raising one leg to rest her arm on it. The high waisted light washed jeans with paintings on them.

Your heart clenched at her excitement for a band you both adored for years.

"I know. 5SOS gave Lucy an offer for Graveyard Petals to open for them worldwide. The others are down to join, but if I'm not ready, we won't." You avoided the brown eyes burning your cheek for a second.

Julie's warm hand clasped yours in hers to jog to your car you had bought with your first paycheque. Unable to figure out her state on the possible tour, you quietly drove back home with no sound other than breathing.

"Hey!" Luke beamed as his two favourite girls, came wandering into the studio with pensive expressions and stooped shoulders.

Alex picked up on their moods almost instantly, "Are you okay?"

Your mouth opened before the loud yell of Flynn cut off your opportunity to respond and a slap smack to the back of your head. The sharp cry of pain stumbled from your chapped lips and Flynn's frustration rolling off her form.

"Flynn!" You sharply called rubbing the stinging spot with a glare outmatched by Flynn's fire. The look unlike you had ever seen on the girl with a sharp sense of fashion and unapologetic personality.

"You got asked by 5 Seconds of Summer to tour the world as an opening act!" Flynn elaborated at your confused expression, "Jules texted me. You need to do this! The amount of questions of if GP will return is outrageous! In the last two days, the band's Instagram got five thousand new followers."

The ghostly trio stayed silent as Flynn reprimanded her best friend's older sister with crazy talent. Flynn was your self appointed biggest fan with buying the first album at the store to demanding to wear newly designed merch before the drop.

"I'm enjoying being at home. I'm on good terms with Julie and Carlos, Dad doesn't look like he's gonna drop dead in disappointment when he sees me." You shrugged focusing on the discoloured mark on the ground.

"It's okay to be scared." Alex supplied smiling as Flynn nodded her thanks as the tall drummer stepped in.

After escaping the Hollywood Ghost Club (HGC), a handful of people gained the ability to see them, including Flynn. It was rather refreshing for the girl to finally interact with the guys with Julie being the middle man.

"I'm not-"You cut yourself off at the disbelief on Julie's face with her arms crossed just as your mother had done, "I nearly lost myself in the bottom of a bottle. I fucked up my relationships and tarnished both mine and the band's reputation."

Luke's warm hand came down on your shoulder in the act of support, the touch a new factor to the ghost. Your hand came to rest on his with a smile of gratitude cast to the dead boy.

"You have healthy coping mechanisms to fall back on. You'll have us to visit with the poofing ability. If you stumble, we will be here for you." Reggie informed you with his toothy grin and kind eyes.

The last piece of the puzzle clicked into place, feeling the wound close up, leaving a scar that had blistered and reopened since last year. The cheers enveloped you like their arms as you texted Lucy and the band your decision.

Dublin, Ireland 2021

"Hello, Dublin!" Your voice amplified in the large stadium of fans cheering for your band—the thud of Iris on her drum kit.

James idly stroking the strings on his dark green teal guitar your band had pitched in as a gift to him. On the opposite side of the stage was Sawyer with their custom-made gorgeous marble green and white colour.

"I hope you are enjoying yourself so far! It is our last song before the real act comes out!" You exclaimed to the boisterous crowd.

Just barely in the wing of the stage waited the band that had quickly become older brothers to you. A band that had given you a chance after the madness of your downward spiral.

"This song came out in 2018 and quickly became one of my favourites. It wouldn't be right to sing it without some friends." You continued as the guys walked onto the stage, "Without further adieu, this is Lie to Me by 5 Seconds of Summer!"

Luke Hemmings along with Calum, Ashton, and Michael ran to join your band as Iris started a sick beat. Calum and Michael already joining Sawyer and James in absolute perfect sync leaving Ashton to rock out by Iris. Hemmings, to not confuse him with Luke Patterson, came to stand next to you with a guitar.

[Verse 1: Hemmings]

I saw you looking brand new overnight

And I caught you looking too, but you didn't look twice

You look happy, oh, mmm

You look happy, oh

Hemmings angled his body to face you but not cut off the fans behind him, creating the vivid story you had done each rehearsal. The blue clashing your own eye colour holding your personalized sparkly emerald green mic.

[Pre Chorus: Hemmings & Calum]

Flashing back to New York City

Change your flight so you stay with me

Remember thinking that I got this right

Only adding backing vocals as Hemmings retreated to jam out with Calum leaving you to jump around the stage. Landing next to Sawyer they beamed with the loud stadium heard even through the in-ear monitors.

[Chorus: Hemmings & Calum]

And now I wish we never met

'Cause you're too hard to forget

While I'm cleaning up your mess

I know he's taking off your dress

And I know that you don't, but if I ask you if you love me

I hope you lie, lie, lie, lie, lie to me

Raising the mic to your lips, you came into your cue returning to the middle of the stage with Hemmings.

"Give it up for Y/N!" Ashton yelled into Iris' personal microphone.

[Verse 2: You]

It's 3 AM and the moonlight's testing me (Ah)

I know that you've been holding on to someone else

And now I can't sleep (Ah)

I ain't happy, oh

I ain't too happy, oh

[Pre Chorus: You]

Flashing back to New York City

I was done, but you undid me

Classic me to run when it feels right

The stage was charged with the chemistry the two lead singers of their respective bands all sharing grins. The cheers growing as Hemmings came closer to share the green microphone, the tech guys skillfully turning Hemmings off; no feedback sounding.

[Chorus: Hemmings & You]

Now I wish we never met

'Cause you're too hard to forget

While he's taking off my dress

I know she's laying on your chest

I know that you don't, but if I ask you if you love me

I hope you lie, lie, lie, lie, lie to me

Singing, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie

Li-li-lie, lie, lie, lie, lie

Lie, lie, lie, lie, lie

Li-li-lie, lie, lie, lie, lie (Yeah yeah)

I know that you don't, but if I ask you if you love me

I hope you lie, lie, lie, lie, lie to me

The Australian singer stepped closer to hug you quickly before finding his way to your bandmates too. The crowd all having their phones out in which the hugs would be made into edits, and the shipping would intensify.

"Dublin! You have been incredible to play for. Enjoy the rest of the concert and rock out because I will be doing so backstage." Your voice echoed over the fans with a beaming grin feeling comfortable on stage again.

"This is Easier!" Hemmings shouted as the rest of his band commenced their part of the concert just as they had the last few months.

Watching the guys perform with your own band with you was incredibly bittersweet after touring worldwide for months. The media had eaten up the sudden reappearance of the band with positive publicity increasing the popularity.

"I love this song," Sawyer spoke with a twinkle in their eyes tapping their foot to the beat. James was just barely moving his head to beat while Iris was jumping around uncaring of the people around.

"You love it because we got to collaborate on the song!" James exclaimed, tapping his hip on her thigh. Iris' 5'11 form towered over James' 5'7 height but that never caused issues with them.

James's black hair gleamed blue in the strobe lights tinting his pale complexion as well. Sawyer's hair dyed bright red pairing well with their tawny skin colour with their mocha brown irises. Iris had changed over the break abandoning her past style for a more laidback skater style.

"I'm gonna head to the bus. Grab a shower and change." You informed the band as you started retreating to where the bus was parked.

"See you soon!" Sawyer yelled with their attention halfway back on the band of guys that had given you all a second chance.

Walking down the hall with employees milling around, you barely acknowledged them other than a smile. The performing had taken a lot out of you after a fitful sleep. Carl, your band's security detail and current bouncer to the backdoor, nodded at you.

Carl's colleague would be stationed at the bus as per usual with your routine of catching one song and then leaving. Bea's hardened gaze relentless on scouring the area with her arms crossed over her chest.

"Hey, Bea." You spoke earning a grunt in response from the jaded security detail hired after adjusting back to civilian life.

You didn't have the entire story other than Bea had been in the military, but due to an injury had been medically discharged. Your manager Lucy had been the one to hire her as per the new policy of having two people of different genders on detail.

The bus was quiet as you entered flinching at the sight of your father sitting on the couch with Julie and Carlos beside him. Your mouth gaped at seeing your family after months of only FaceTime and calls.

"Oh my gosh!" You yelled lunging to hug your siblings with wide eyes matching.

Carlos had definitely grown at least two inches since you last saw him, and Julie's hair was pulled back in an intricate style. Her outfit screaming Flynn's advice but her ring was on show that matched your own.

"Surprise!" Ray exclaimed to his eldest child with pride written clear on his face, "I missed you, Mija."

"So, did I!" The cheerful voice of Luke interjected as the three boys of Julie and the Phantoms made their appearance.

Standing further back in a band shirt with Graveyard Petals was Alex's boyfriend Willie with a shy expression. He still felt incredibly guilty of delivering the boys straight into Caleb's hand and often voiced his feelings of not feeling he deserved to be friends.

"Hey, Willie. I like your shirt!" You told the tall skater who sent a shy smile.

"Still weird," Ray muttered having walked in on Reggie towel drying his hair the month before you left for tour.

It had been a very confusing and emotional time for Ray and Carlos to adapt to the new information. After Julie saved the boys and that weird golden glow happened, they had been able to make themselves visible; just no poofing in the vicinity of Ray after he nearly fainted that one time. The details hadn't been worked out yet, but Caleb was out of the picture.

"Did you catch the concert?" You questioned the group tugging on the damp t-shirt you had worn on stage. The fabric was drying after being drenched in the sweat after spending an hour under hot lights and continuous movement on stage.

"We stayed for the one last night. We stayed for your set tonight before we got Bea-"

"-she's terrified by the way," Alex interjected with a grimace on his face at the stoic young woman. The glare at focusing on her scars had truly scared the anxious drummer.

"-to let us on the bus. We wanted to surprise you and congratulate your success." Luke informed the group, "You're insanely talented by the way."

His left hand coming to intertwine with your right hand just as it had before you departed for the world tour. You had grown incredibly close to the guitarist firstly as best friends before developing into a relationship.

"We did explore Dublin for the morning. I'll forever be in Lucy's debt for sending the tickets for us." Ray happily sighed, thinking of the lovely woman that had helped Ray guide his daughter back to herself.

"I'll just hit the shower quick." You swiftly jogged to the back of the tour bus where the shower was situated near the five came rooms. The entire band each had one room and a spare for the driver.

Los Angeles, 2021

Your hair pulled away from your face you sat beside a willow tree in contemplative silence with only your guitar and notebook. You knew that in a few seconds Luke would appear for another writing session.

"I love you." Luke breathlessly spoke as he ran up to you with a great big smile.

The awe at his words blinding your thoughts from the hope you had been feeling for the last week. Luke's hazel eyes glittering in the sun and the smile bubbled onto his face.

"I love you too." The words slipped quickly off the tip of your tongue as the guitarist tugged your form into his body. Supple lips quivering on the skin of warm neck all Luke felt was gratitude.

Luke leant back to brush his calloused fingers on your cheek, "Julie got a call. Someone little birdie sent in a demo to a label."

"I wonder who that happened to be." Your smirk revealing just precisely who had sneakily grabbed the freshly recorded demo.

Lucy had always had an interest in Julie's talent in music but tabled in during the period that Rose died. The grief stealing Julie's voice and leaving behind stage fright hadn't been something Lucy would chance. The manager had always hoped Julie's voice would return.

"You gave Lucy the demo, and she passed in on to the Red Bedroom Records!" Luke was quick to tug you into his arms with a huge grin, "Julie and the Phantoms are getting signed! The owner is personally flying over on Monday to go over the contract and sign it!"

Your words muffled by his chest, "Lucy informed me about that, and she offered to manage you as well."

"Lucy is the best. She gonna mentor and give Flynn an internship to still work with the band. Thank you so much, baby." Luke whispered against the warm skin of your forehead.

"I just decided to speed up the process. Can I tell you something?" At Luke's nod, you continued, "I'm thinking in a few years to open a label of my own. I was hoping you guys and Julie would be interested in doing that with me?"

"I am so down to do that. We're gonna hire an investigator to make sure what Trevor did isn't able to happen at our label." Luke was already passionately thinking of what the hypothetical future label.

"That's perfect!" You beamed, "We could give a workshop to aid songwriting too! I thought that we could name it A Rosie Sunset. My dad called my mom Rosie most of my life and Sunset for your first band."

"I didn't think I could love you more than I did a minute ago. You proved me wrong." Luke breathless laughed before humming when your lips made contact with your own.

The warmth that had been missing the year after you mom passed away had returned, and sometimes you swore the sun shone down on you. You had no doubts it was your mom's way in heaven to hug her children. You and Julie had come to the conclusion that your mom had sent the boys into your lives.

Rose Molina, even in death, did her best to make her children happy. The three remaining members of Sunset Curve the absolute best part of her two daughters lives.

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#luke patterson imagines #luke patterson x reader #julie and the phantoms imagines #luke patterson x y/n #julie and the phantoms #luke patterson #jatp luke #jatp fanfic #charlie gillespie imagines #caitsy and ash productions

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omniscientreaderr · 3 years ago

Text

hi! need input lol i found out about the villain wrangler au and got so inspired :) haven't actually written in a hot 5 years but apparently i can bang out 1.1k words for a story but not my homework :" i actually wanted to write more but didn't know if it be offensive in any way. so yes input thank you - be kind djfkdkke I'm scared but I'm really open to feedback :)) ok dankes to whoever actually sees this! have a great day

- (this is after the VW gets saved, and the one that saved him is meeting to give the girl a pep talk) -

The villain shuffles into the hospital, meeting with the eyes of the VW as he glances up from his clipboard.

VW: “hey! Thanks for saving me the other day :) appreciate it! You ready to meet the girl?”

B: “yeah…as ready as I’ll ever be, I guess? What am i suppose to say? I don’t do fancy motivational speeches like that captain, I don’t know how i’m supposed to encourage and help her…she’s going to be insecure, she’s going to be wallowing in a pit of uncertainty over whether she’s ever going to be…accepted. How am i supposed to help a girl with that?!”

The VW looks over at him with a gentle smile, steering B into a nearby seat, setting his clipboard on the nurse’s tray next to them.

“Hey. Hey. The fact that you know how she will feel, the fact that you worry about whether you can help her, is all that matters. You don’t need fancy words designed to psychologically rouse the masses - i personally have always found them pretentious - you just need to tell her what you’ve always wished to hear. Speak from the heart. Words really don’t come easy, but the rawest, most truthful and touching ones are those that come from the place of absolute vulnerability. Words from the mind, touch the mind. But words from your heart? They touch the heart.” He laughs, taking a pause. “Honestly, I could go on a whole spiel about why is it the speeches of villain appeal to the masses, and how they always gain so much support. You’ve got this.”

B simply nods, giving the VW a small smile, before resuming chewing on his bottom lip. Standing outside the girl’s door, he lifts his hand to knock on the door, before dropping it again. He pauses, leaning backwards against the adjacent wall. “What am I doing? Me? A fuckin pyromaniac helping a little girl? Heck, I can do fighting that obnoxious righteous moral spewing jackass in tightey-whiteys. I can do getting dropped from 10 stories. I could even do pickin up ladies with just my words. But this? No. No way in hell am i walking in there, just to disappoint that kid.”

He walks away, ready to tell the VW that sorry to disappoint, but he couldn’t do this.

The door to the room swings open, a nurse bustling out with her cart. He presses himself against the corner, hiding from the view of the nurse. He glances over, catching sight of a tiny, fragile girl in that all-too-big white sterile room, sitting up on her bed with a sad smile on her face. The door closes all too soon, but that sparks something inside him. He walks towards her door and knocks, as if guided by some impulse, a duty towards this little child.

“Come in! Did you forget something, R? I promise you that if it’s your stethoscope it’s gone!”

He takes a step in, still shrouded in the darkness that the entryway is covered in.

“OH! Hello! Are you lost? Do you need help getting somewhere?”

She beams at him, turning her body slightly to see him, and he sees it. He’s struck by the image of a child scarred across half her body, snaking past her uncovered arms and legs…and across her face, where a pure, warm and joyful smile sits.

He brushes his long fringe back and finds himself rolling up his long sleeves, almost unconsciously. For the first time, in possibly his whole life, he was willing to let someone see him. See him, with his scars on display, not hidden behind a mask, or his hair, or the long sleeves he always wore. He wanted someone to see him. He…wanted to let this girl know she was not alone, that she was not broken.

He stepped forward into the light, quirking his lips into an awkward, unsure smile.

“Hi, Emilia, I’m B, and a little birdie told me you wanted to meet me, so here I am.”

The child shoots upright, nearly clambering out of bed to rush to him.

(Ok she becomes quieter because the dialogue is meant to be poignant. The atmosphere is quiet. It’s two people reflecting, basking in the presence of the only person who understands their pain. There’s no need for pretences, to push the traits that make you likeable.)

Alarmed, he takes large strides to her bedside, catching her before she topples over, having gotten tangled in her blankets. He lifts her back up, before scratching his head, taking a seat next to her bed.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to touch you without your permission.”

The child says nothing, simply nodding her head excitedly, grinning at him. She reaches for his arm, and he places it in her open hand. It’s so tiny. She’s so small. She’s adorable.

She traces his scars, and he waits for the wave of insecurity to hit him. For the voice that urges him to pull back his sleeve and not let anyone see his wounds. But today, it stays quiet. She points to her own healing wounds from the grafting surgery, saying, “Same.”

Now that he’s near her, he’s hit by the full brightness of her smile, the enthusiasm at seeing him, the anticipation of what he would do or say, and something pulls at his heartstrings, and loosens the string of tension and worry that has been restricting his tongue.

“Sorry. I’m not very good at this, haha.”

He pauses. The child offers another encouraging smile, holding his calloused hands with both of her hands.

“I guess…I wanted to let you know that these scars don’t matter. They don’t. They don’t take away the warmth of your smile, the fact that you brighten up the day of everyone around you. They don’t…they don’t…take away your worth. Or any of your beauty. Fu- AHahah don’t listen to anyone who tells you this. It’s a long road, but you’re not alone.”

“Not alone”, the kid repeats. “Not alone”. He notices tears in her eyes, tears that he doesn’t realise are reflected in his own eyes, and he is struck by the comfort that he finds in them. He isn’t alone.

He wills his tears back, giving her a brighter grin. “Did you know that in some cultures, scars are actually seen as signs of bravery? The more you had, the more brave you were among the tribes. They were warriors, feared, esteemed, respected for their wounds. You must be a mighty fine warrior. I bow in your presence, my lady.”

Their peals of laughter reverberates through the ward, ringing in the ears of concerned nurses, hiding watery smiles, in the ears of the kid’s anxious parents, sobbing into each other. She’s laughing. She’s happy. Not those calculated smiles and calculated giggles that hide a lot of pain and insecurity, full of the desire to be…desirable, but one of pure joy. One, of a child rediscovering their youth.

(Unfin.)

#villain wrangler #villain wrangler au #one shot #beniceiscared #enjoy

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lildark1 · 3 years ago

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Accidental Serenade - Raelle x Scylla

After tonight’s episode and hearing Taylor sing I HAD to do something with Raelle’s hidden talent. This was written kinda quick, may go back and edit later, but my eyes are starting to cross right now.

-=-

The murmur of the campus filled Raelle’s ears, but she was far enough away it became lost under the sound of the guitar as she plucked at it. She had no real tune in mind. She just wanted to get away from the hustle and bustle of campus for a bit. Growing up in the Cession she was surrounded more by fields and forest than people. Sure Charlotte was a decent sized town, but it was nothing compared to Salem. Raelle knew she was lucky to get into Salem University. It had one of the best medical programs this side of the Cession, but it was still a bit of a shock to the system to be constantly surrounded by people.

Thankfully her roommates seemed cool, if a bit to get used to. Tally was guileless and almost overbearingly friendly, but Raelle couldn’t help, but be taken with her warmth. Abigail Bellweather on the other hand, as snarky as she was uppity, but the ice had slowly broken over the few weeks that they had been bunking together. Now their ‘fights’ and jabs were more in jest, much to Tally’s relief. The poor redhead had gotten stuck in the middle more than once.

Despite this though she still was happy when she had found this out of the way place. It wasn’t too far off the beaten path, but just far enough to give the illusion of privacy. So here she was, tucked beneath a massive tree that had branches reaching far from its base. Raelle had tucked herself among the roots, sitting on a blanket with her backpack under her leg and her battered, but beloved guitar in her lap. It had been a gift from her mother, and had taken time to grow into her, but she never gave up on it.

Music always helped ease her mind, reminding her of simpler times when she was younger. Of nights spent with her mother, learning finger placements and song, her father listening at the kitchen table, his head bobbing and smiling the same soft smile he always had as he watched them.

The same smile that had faded after her mother had died, just as Raelle’s desire to play. But as time had passed and the ache had lessened Raelle had picked up the guitar again, needing the connection to her mother and calm the instrument brought when times got to be a bit too much.

Times like right now, when homesickness hits particularly hard.

Her fingers danced over the strings as a tune coalesced in her mind.

“Those moments when the air is calm,

Those moments when the nights are long,

I close my eyes and can see you again…”

She let herself be taken by the lyrics, her voice and hands falling into perfect rhythm as everything else fell away. Music always helped center her and any of the lingering tension fell from her shoulders. It was a song she had written not long after losing her mother. When the pain was still the sharp bleed of an open wound. But over time the music helped stitch the jagged pieces of her heart together, the notes dulling the pain so now it only came as the ache of a healed break.

“Someday,

When the days are done,

When my time has come,

I can’t wait to see you again.”

A rustle of leaves startled her from her trance and she whipped her head up to look at whoever was intruding on her. It was a young woman, about Raelle’s own age, with glossy dark hair and almost startling blue eyes. There was a look of chagrin on her face as she shifted from one foot to the other.

“Sorry I didn’t,” The woman gave an embarrassed chuckle. “I didn’t mean to interrupt you. I was going for a walk and heard someone singing. That was really beautiful,” She hastened to add.

Raelle shrugged, still a bit irked at being interrupted, but the genuine remorse on the other woman’s face helped soothe her ire a bit. “S’okay. You take walks out here a lot?”

“Yeah. Nice to get away from the noise and stress. Guess we had the same idea, huh?”

“It’d seem like it.”

“I’m Scylla, by the way.”

“Raelle.” Now that the embarrassment was beginning to fade, Raelle found herself studying her intruder, taken by the almost electric sapphire of her eyes and sweet, playful smile being thrown her way. Heat of a different reason began to crawl up her neck.

“Are you studying music?”

“Um, no. I’m actually getting a degree in medicine. Kinda family tradition. This is just to relax,” She said, lifting the guitar a bit.

“That’s a shame.”

A bashful smile escaped Raelle as she rubbed the back of her neck.

“I’m glad I got to hear it though. That was a really beautiful song.”

“Thanks.”

“I should-”

“Do you-”

Both paused, then laughed a little.

“Go ahead.”

“I should probably get going. I got class in a little bit,” Scylla replied, her smile soft and almost regretful.

“Oh, okay yeah,” Raelle nodded, feeling her own regret that she tried to hide by looking down at her guitar.

“Maybe...I’ll see you around?”

This perked up the blonde’s attention and she looked up, stomach flipping as she met Scylla’s gaze. “Uh yeah. That’d be great.”

“Great. Oh here,” Scylla dug around in her backpack and pulled out a pen and scrap of paper. She jotted something down and knelt close to hand it over. Raelle hesitated a moment before taking the slip of paper. On it in beautiful cursive was ‘Scylla’ followed by her number. Raelle swallowed, hoping the gulp wasn’t as audible to Scylla as it was to her own ears. “You give your number to every girl you come across?”

“Just the pretty ones that serenade me.”

“Wasn’t really serenading you,” Raelle replied with a crooked grin, enjoying the back and forth.

“True. Maybe I can get you to do it for me another time.”

Raelle found herself tongue tied at the possibilities that sentence and the slip in her fingers were laying out. It had been some time since she had flirted with anyone, and a pretty smile from a woman was always one of Raelle’s weaknesses. And Goddess Above, if those dimples were definitely devastating for Raelle’s thought process.

The distant chime of the belltower pulled both women back and they looked back to where the quad was, no doubt swelling with students as they rushed too and from class.

“Guess that’s my cue to leave. Talk to you later?”

“Definitely,” Raelle said, lifting the slip of paper a bit before putting it in the breast pocket of her flannel. She noticed Scylla’s eyes follow her movements before those dimples made a return.

“Look forward to it. Later.” With a wink Scylla turned and made her way back to the campus proper, leaving Raelle wondering what just happened and how soon would be too soon to text.

#motherland fort salem #my writing #raelle x scylla #raylla #not my best #but i had to write something

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hieromonkcharbel · 3 years ago

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Diverting a bit from my approach to the writings of the Philokalia, I wish to put forward a few thoughts about how we often think about illness in our lives and how the Holy Fathers offer us fresh insight into the mystery of evil, sin, illness and their place in our struggle for holiness.

Often, when we are young, we do not think much about physical illness and the spiritual life. Life passes quickly as we are fully engaged in our work, studies and ministry and many of us rarely struggle with ill health except for the occasional flu or cold. But when illness does strike, in one form or another, suddenly our busy and “productive” lives can be disrupted and we are forced, as it were, to reconsider a great deal of things; not merely the meaning of health, that we have perhaps taken for granted, but the nature of our relationship with God, the depth of our faith or lack thereof, the meaning of suffering and how to engage it and not to become discourage even when we have been completely humbled by the burden of our physical and emotional vulnerabilities. When such circumstances arise, we are often unprepared for the trial - never imagining or wanting to think about the possibility of such a cross - a cross the comes to most all of us at some point. When illness plunges us into unfamiliar territory, even to the point of death, what place does it have within our struggle toward holiness? How do we pray when prayer seems impossible and when it feels as though our heart has been turned to stone? Where do we find our hope and with what faith must we enter the mystery of illness and suffering in order to know the healing touch of Christ, the Physician of our souls and bodies?

I offer for your consideration today brief excerpts from “The Holy Fathers on Illness” compiled by Bishop Alexander Mileant; in particular those thoughts from the Fathers on “Illness and Work of Perfection”. Their words offer some perspective on sickness and redemptive suffering as a means of glorifying God. There is much to say certainly about the meaning and origins of illness well beyond the purview of a simple post, but the Fathers show us in word and deed that it can be and often is a privileged way of holiness. Through thankfulness, endurance, and patience one can realize the highest form of ascetic practice and follow a spiritual path to intimacy with God. At such moments, one may exhibit no extraordinary virtue other than to suffer illness and its poverty with patience and so have this as one’s path to salvation. Thus, the Fathers’ words are full of hope and challenge:

“The desert ascetic Father, St. Abba Dorotheus, exhorts his disciples to "take the trouble to find out where you are: whether you have left your own town but remain just outside the gates, by the garbage dump, or whether you have gone ahead little or much, or whether you are half way on your journey, or whether you have gone two miles, then come back two miles, or perhaps even five miles, or whether you have journeyed as far as the Holy City and entered into Jerusalem itself, or whether you have remained outside and are unable to enter" (On Vigilance and Sobriety).

Illness helps us to see "where we are" on life's road: "sickness is a lesson from God and serves to help us in our progress if we give thanks to Him" (Sts. Barsanuphius and John, Philokalia).

No one may use illness as an excuse for resting from the labor of spiritual living. "Perhaps some might think that illness and bodily weakness hinder the work of perfection since the works and accomplishments of one's hands cannot continue. But it is not a hindrance" (St. Ambrose, Jacob and the Happy Life).

In the life of Riassophore-monk John, latter-day disciple of St. Nilus of Sora, we see how bodily infirmity is not allowed to interrupt the struggle for salvation. Riassophore-monk John was a cripple; because of this he had been compelled to leave the Monastery of St. Cyril of New Lake. Feeling sorry for himself, he shortly afterwards was standing for an all-night vigil in the deep of winter. "Suddenly he saw an unknown Elder in schema come out of the altar to him and say: 'Well, apparently you do not wish to serve me. If so, return to St. Cyril.

"At these words, the Elder struck him with his right hand quite strongly on the shoulder. Noting that the Elder exactly resembled St. Nilus as he is depicted on the icon over his relics, John was filled with great joy, all his grief disappeared, and he firmly resolved to spend the rest of his life in the Saint's skete" (The Northern Thebaid).

Even if we are bedridden, we are to continue the struggle against the passions, producing fruits worthy of repentance. This work of perfection demands that we acquire patience and longsuffering. What better way to do this than when we lie on a bed of infirmity? St. Tikhon of Zadonsk says that in suffering we can find out whether our faith is living or just "theoretical." The test of true faith is patience in the midst of sufferings, for "patience is the Christian's coat of arms." "What is it to follow Christ?" he asks. It is "to endure all things, looking upon Christ Who suffered. Many wish to be glorified with Christ, but few seek to remain with the suffering Christ. Yet not merely by tribulation, but even in much tribulation does one enter the Kingdom of God."

To those who suppose that they can only progress in the spiritual life when all else is "well," St. John Cassian replies, "You should not think that you can find virtue when you are not irritated — for it is not in your power to prevent troubles from happening. Rather, you should look for patience as the result of your own humility and longsuffering, for patience does depend upon your own will" {Institutes). Towards the end of his life, St. Seraphim of Sarov suffered from open ulcers on his legs. "Yet," as his Life tells us, "in appearance he was always bright and cheerful, for in spirit he felt that heavenly peace and joy which are the riches of the glorious inheritance of the saints."

"You are stricken by this sickness," the Holy Fathers say, "so that you will not depart barren to God. If you can endure, and give thanks to God, this sickness will be accounted to you as a spiritual work" (Sts. Barsanouphius and John, Philokalia).

Bishop Theophan the Recluse explains: "Enduring unpleasant things cheerfully, you approach a little to the martyrs. But if you complain, you will not only lose your share with the martyrs, but will be responsible for complaining besides. Therefore, be cheerful!"

In order not to lose heart when we fall sick we are to think about and mentally "kiss the sufferings of our Savior just as though we were with Him while He suffers abuses, wounds, humiliations...shame, the pain of the nails, the piercing with the lance, the flow of water and blood. From this we will receive consolation in our sickness. Our Lord will not let these efforts go unrewarded " (St. Tikhon of Zadonsk).

The patience we can learn on a sickbed cannot be overemphasized. Elder Macarius of Optina wrote about this to one who was ill:

"I was much pleased to hear from your relation how bravely you are bearing the cruel scourge of your heavy sickness. Verily, as the man of the flesh perishes, so is the spiritual man renewed."

And to another he wrote: "Praised be the Lord that you accept your illness so meekly! The bearing of sickness with patience and gratitude is reckoned highly by Him Who often rewards sufferers with His imperishable gifts.

"Ponder these words: Though our outward man perish, yet the inward man is renewed."

St. Ambrose of Milan compared an infirm body to a broken musical instrument. He explained how the "musician" can still produce God-pleasing "music" without his instrument:

"If a man used to singing to the accompaniment of a harp finds the harp broken, and its strings undone...he puts it aside and instead of calling for its notes he delights himself with his own voice.

"In the same way, a sick man allows the harp of his body to lie unused. He finds delight within his heart and comfort in the knowledge that his conscience is clear. He sustains himself with God's words and the prophetic writings and, holding these sweet and pleasant in his soul, he embraces them with his mind. Nothing can happen to him because God's graceful presence breathes favor upon him....He is filled with spiritual tranquility" (Jacob and the Happy Life).

Quite often the most God-pleasing spiritual "music" of all is produced in anonymity, by unknown or nearly-unknown saints. But such holy "melodies" are all the more sweet because they are heard by God alone. One such modern sufferer who lived an angel-like life in spite of advanced and terrible sickness was the holy New Russian Martyr, Mother Maria of Gatchina. Her story is known to us only because it pleased God to providentially arrange for one of her visitors, Professor I. M. Andreyev, to record his memories of her.

Mother Maria suffered from encephalitis (inflammation of the brain) and Parkinson's disease. "Her whole body became as it were chained and immovable, her face anemic and like a mask; she could speak, but she began to talk with half-closed mouth, through her teeth, pronouncing slowly and in a monotone. She was a total invalid and was in constant need of help and careful looking after. Usually this disease proceeds with sharp psychological changes, as a result of which such patients often ended up in psychiatric hospitals. But Mother Maria, being a total physical invalid, not only did not degenerate psychically, but revealed completely extraordinary features of personality and character not characteristic of such patients: she became extremely meek, humble, submissive, undemanding, concentrated in herself; she became engrossed in constant prayer, bearing her difficult condition without the least murmuring.

"As if as a reward for this humility and patience, the Lord sent her a gift: consolation of the sorrowing. Completely strange and unknown people, finding themselves in sorrows, grief, depression, and despondency, began to visit her and converse with her. And everyone who came to her left consoled, feeling an illumination of their grief, a pacifying of sorrow, a calming of fears, a taking away of depression and despondency" (The Orthodox Word, vol. 13, no. 3).

"Thus God has acted. Like a provident Father and not like a kidnapper has He first involved us in grievous things, giving us over to tribulation as it were to schoolmasters and teachers, so that being chastened and sobered by these things we may, after showing forth all patience and learning, all right discipline, inherit the Kingdom of Heaven" (St. John Chrysostom, Homily 18, On the Statues).”

Excerpts taken from:

Missionary Leaflet # EA30

466 Foothill Blvd, Box 397, La Canada, Ca 91011

Editor: Bishop Alexander (Mileant)

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nejibaby · 4 years ago

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Love Language

Pairings: Neji x Y/N

A/N: First time writing a fic for Neji. In fact, this is my first time writing a fanfic involving anime characters. But I’m so whipped for Neji I couldn’t stop myself from writing this. Please let me know your thoughts about this. 💜

When you opened your eyes from your sleep, you immediately knew you were having one of those days. “Those days” meaning the days where you feel a need for skinship. It was one of those days where you were feeling extremely clingy.

Oh but the skinship you crave doesn’t necessarily have to lead to sex or anything, you just wanted physical touch. It was something you find comforting. It was, after all, your love language.

So when you peeked to the other side of the bed — your boyfriend Neji’s side — you couldn’t help but want to press yourself closer to him. But knowing that he was a light sleeper was enough reason to stop yourself from doing what you want. He just came home from a mission last night and he deserved to rest as much as he can.

You watched his profile as he took deep, even breaths — a telltale sign that he was fast asleep. You slowly and gently touched the side of his face, pausing still as you checked if he woke up at your movement. When you deemed that he was still asleep, you lightly rubbed your thumb over his cheeks, just a featherlight touch but an act where you poured your love for him.

You slowly rose up from the bed and placed a soft kiss on his forehead, exactly where his curse mark lied. Afterwards, you whispered, “I love you, Neji.”

It was the first time you’ve said those three words out loud. You felt a little but guilty for not being able to say it when he’s awake, but it’s not just something you can say out of the blue. Besides, you have to build up courage to actually be able to say it. Right now though, right now you were still a coward.

He stirred a little in his sleep. You were alarmed, afraid that you had woken him up or worse, that he had heard your confession. But his movement stopped when you ran your fingers through his hair. When you are sure he has fallen back into slumber, you slip out of the bed.

The Hokage, Tsunade, assigned a mission to you today so you had to get up early if you wanted to cook breakfast for Neji.

_____________________________

At a young age your parents taught you the importance of learning other people's love languages in order to build a good relationship with them. That’s how you found yourself observing what makes your friends happy. You wouldn’t tell them this though. You were quite sure they’d end up teasing you for worrying over trivial things.

You were sure your love language was physical touch because you often find yourself happily linking arms with Sakura or passionately fist bumping with Naruto. Not to mention you would hug them goodbye instead of waving your hands. It probably meant nothing much to them, but to you, it made you feel loved and accepted. It warmed your heart.

From observation, you learned that Naruto was happiest when people acknowledge him and his hard work so you made it a point to cheer him on and to give him words of affirmation from time to time. With Sakura, she likes to spend as much time as possible with you when you both don’t have missions to do. You were guessing she was lonely because of Sasuke leaving but it could also be because she was an only child and wasn’t really fond of her parent’s shenanigans. Either way, she was always up for quality time.

You were the closest with these two so you made it a point to act according to their love language. And just like what your parent’s said, it worked on strengthening your bond with them.

It was with them that you confided with your little crush on Neji. At first they found it weird. Because how can someone so sweet like you take a liking to someone who was a little… cold? Detached?

You chastised them immediately after hearing what they’ve said, claiming that Neji was honorable, strong, smart, good looking, and just overall dreamy.

Sakura giggled at how you zoned out with hearts on your eyes as you uttered those words and that’s when she knew you were serious.

Naruto, on the other hand, was cringing. He knew how mean and condescending Neji could be. It was painted on his face how he didn’t like Neji for you. But at least your crush wasn’t Sasuke.

When you got your bearings together, you immediately turned to Naruto and told him to keep his mouth shut. You recalled saying, “Naruto, If you ever talk about my teeny tiny crush, I’m going to leave Konoha all together, just like Sasuke did!”

You were exaggerating, of course. You wouldn’t leave Konoha just because of that, but your speech worked on Naruto. You recalled that his eyes widened in surprise and then promised that he won’t tell a soul. You doubted if he could keep a secret but eventually, you just didn’t care anymore. It was just a crush anyway, it wasn’t a big deal and it wouldn’t matter if he knew. If anything, you both weren’t really that close to begin with, so there’s no friendship that could’ve been ruined. And besides, Neji has always been the all-business type of guy, you were sure a little crush was something insignificant to him.

________________________________

When Naruto left the village to train with Master Jiraiya, you eventually became closer with the other shinobis that were more or less closer to your age. This includes Tenten, Lee, Ino, Shikamaru, Choji, Kiba, Shino, Hinata, and surprisingly, Neji too.

It all started when Sakura had begun training with Lady Tsunade. You’ve been assigned to a lot of missions where you were teamed up with different shinobis, but what was weird was that Neji was almost always on your team.

You just wished Lady Tsunade was assigning both of you often in one team because you were always both free at the same time or that you worked well together or that you were both very skilled and had high success rates on missions. Any rational reasoning really, as long as it’s not because Sakura had pulled some strings.

At first you were really nervous about teaming up with Neji on missions, afraid that you were going to mess up in his presence. But when the initial nerves died down, you’ve masked whatever little feelings you’ve had for him quite well. Not that it was hard. In fact, it was easy for you because you prioritize the safety of the village before anything else.

But the missions truly did make both of you closer. What started as only speaking about the missions became casual talks about your friends. Nothing much, mostly small talk, but it was enough to ignite the small flame in your heart.

_______________________

When you arrived back from your missions, despite being tired, you would always gather your friends around to hang out before another mission was handed to you.

Being a jonin meant you were assigned to more higher rank missions, but sometimes, it just meant having much, much more missions than normal. It was tiring, only having a day or two to rest unless you were injured before another mission was handed over. So somehow it became a tradition of some sorts to gather around after you’ve finished a mission. After all, only you and Neji were jonins in the group.

Unbeknownst to you, your friends viewed you as someone who glued them together. You were the reason why they were much closer than before, now that Naruto wasn’t around. So when possible, they would make it a point to meet with you, knowing how lonely it could be now that you were alone after your parents died when Orochimaru attacked Konoha.

Sakura would often give you a look when Neji was around as all of you spend time with each other catching up. He rarely joined the gathering, preferring to rest instead of socializing. But every now and then he would come too. And when he did, somehow Sakura found a way to make him walk you home. Not that he wouldn’t do it without Sakura urging him to.

Ever since that one mission where you, Neji, and Shino were ambushed, Neji became much closer to you. Maybe it was because when one of the attackers somehow managed to stab him, you came to the rescue.

You were an exceptional kunoichi, your skills were one of the most regarded in the village so you were able to bring down most of the attackers, but not before they left a huge gash on your leg. When the fight was over, you rushed to Neji to heal him using medical ninjutsu that Sakura taught you. Luckily, Shino was only left with a few scratches.

“You know medical ninjutsu?” Neji asked, surprised.

“Yeah. A little. Sakura taught me every now and then when I’m not on a mission.”

“You should heal yourself first.”

“No, I’m fine. Your wound needs more attention than mine.”

It was true, his wound looks a lot worse than yours, but in the end you managed to heal it. However, it took too much chakra from you so with whatever minimal chakra you could use, you tried healing your wound as well. But that left you tired and weak which didn’t go unnoticed by Neji’s byakugan.

You were able to walk for a mile before your body couldn’t anymore. Neji has been looking out for you after you’ve healed him just in case this happened.

“We should probably rest a while,” Neji says.

“No, no. It’s just a few more miles to Konoha. We should keep going,” you say.

Neji looks at Shino, silently asking if they should continue or not.

Shino nods ahead, “It’s much safer if we reach the village as soon as possible. Why? Because you are both not in good shape from the ambush. If we stayed here longer, we might get attacked again. If we push through going back to the village, we’ll reach it before sunset.”

Neji looks at you and then nods his head. “I will carry you.”

Before you could resist, you were already on his back and he was already jumping through branches.

You wrapped your arms around him so as not to fall. He felt warm and you felt safe. A weak smile found its way to your face, grateful that you had comrades looking out for you.

You even allowed yourself to be giddy because of the fact that Neji was there, carrying you to safety.

“I’m sorry,” you say. Your body was shutting down from exhaustion but before you lost consciousness you said, “And th-thank you, Neji.”

Sakura had been waiting by the village gates knowing you were supposed to arrive that day. She perked up upon seeing Shino but then tensed when she saw you being carried by Neji. “What happened?”

“There was an ambush when we were on the way back after the mission. I was careless. I got stabbed. Y/N and Shino fought them off. She healed me but she lost a lot of chakra in the process.” He explains in one breath.

“Let’s get her to the hospital.”

Since that day, you became so much closer with Neji. Whenever he finds you walking alone, he’d offer to walk with you. When you were both assigned on missions, you noticed he started bringing food pills for you. When you were somehow at the training grounds at the same time, he’d hand you an extra bottle of water.

You figured it was his way of thanking you. Nevertheless, the gestures made your heart flutter.

You weren’t going to let him be the only one who’s being thoughtful, so when you trained together, you’d make sure you brought an extra towel for him to use to wipe off his sweat. Sometimes you’d even bring him food, claiming you miscalculated the amount of food you cooked. You weren’t sure if he caught on with your little crush, but you sure hoped he didn’t. The smile on his face as he thanked you for these little gestures was heartwarming to say the least. And it was enough to make your week better.

________________________________

You weren’t quite sure when Neji had started to take a liking to you but you remembered a time where your friends pointed it out to you.

It was a day after Neji completed a long mission. He seeked you out so he can train with you. You immediately agreed, knowing you didn’t have anything planned that day.

When you were both finished, drained from the intense training, you handed him a towel as he gave you a bottle of water. You were both trying to catch your breath when a voice came calling out your name. You both turned to the source of the sound.

Once you saw it was, you squealed and immediately came running towards him, engulfing him in a bear hug. “Lee!” You exclaimed.

He laughs and spins you around. “How has the prettiest flower in Konoha been?”

You snort. “I think you meant the strongest kunoichi next to the Hokage.”

“That works too.” He brings you down and notices Neji watching the interaction. You both walk towards Neji and Lee says, “I see you have been training with my rival.”

“Yes. Neji helps me train when he’s around. He just came back from a mission yesterday.”

“I see. What do you say, Neji, will you indulge me in a battle?” Lee says as he throws punches and kicks in the air.

Neji’s eye twitches, “Sorry, Lee. I’m tired.”

By the time Neji replied though, Lee was already counting push-ups. It was impossible to be able to talk to him when he’s in the zone so you and Neji just let him be and walk away.

When you were both away from Lee, Neji clears his throat and asks, “Have you always been that close to Lee?”

You were confused by the sudden question. “Hm. I guess so. We’re all friends, right? But we got a lot closer recently. When you were away on a mission, Lee kept bugging everyone to train with him since you and Guy sensei were away. But well, no one really wanted to train with him because they were busy with other stuff. And since my training buddy,” you nudged his elbow, “was away, I agreed. Honestly, his timing couldn’t have been better. Kakashi sensei just taught me a new water style jutsu and I was trying to see if I can weave the signs faster. Lee was the perfect partner for the job.”

“Oh.”

You frown, what does that mean? “Is there something wrong, Neji?”

“Nothing.”

You let it go, not wanting to make him uncomfortable. Just as you were about to round the corner going to your house, you halted, “Oh, I forgot I was supposed to meet Sakura today!”

“Okay. I will walk you there.”

“Thank you, Neji,” you said as you felt your cheeks blush.

When you found Sakura, you greeted her with a hug while whispering, “I need to talk to you about something.”

She gave you a look but nodded anyway. You turned back to Neji and thanked him for training and walking with you.

He nods and tells you that he’ll be heading out then.

“What happened?” Sakura asks.

Just as you were about to answer, Tenten came running towards the both of you, “Oh, there you are!”

“Tenten, what’s up?”

“What do you say we get together and do it up a little? At Yakiniku-Q.”

You and Sakura turn to each other. She just shrugs. “Sure.”

Tenten smiled brightly and dragged you two to find Ino and Hinata.

Tenten found Ino first. She was with Choji and Shikamaru. Tenten immediately went to Ino to talk about her plan. Meanwhile, Choji scoops you up in a hug. You laugh, “Well someone’s eager to see me.”

“I haven’t seen you in a while!” He exclaims as he puts you down.

You hang your arms around Choji and Shikamaru’s shoulders, “Yeah, I’ve been training nonstop. How are you guys?”

Shikamaru whispers under his breath, “How troublesome” but you ignore him.

“We’ve been on missions here and there.”

You were supposed to respond but Choji’s attention has shifted to Tenten and Ino when he heard “Yakiniku.”

“Yakiniku?! I’m in! I’m in!”

“You guys aren’t invited.” Tenten declared.

“Huh? Why?” Choji frowns.

“Because it’s time for just us girls to hang out. Right? Let’s have a girls-only get-together!”

“Sorry, Choji. I’ll treat you next time!” You console him.

“Alright! We just have to find Hinata then.” Tenten says.

When she was able to convince Hinata to join, you all went to Yakiniku-Q together. As you entered the store, you silently asked Sakura, “Why do you think Tenten invited us here?”

“I’m not sure. But I think everyone’s a little bit down from missing Naruto.”

“I miss him…” You say wistfully. And a little bit loudly. You only noticed it when you looked up and found that Ino, Hinata, and Tenten were all looking at you. And then you turned your head, you saw that your male friends were there too, by the other table, looking at you as well.

You flushed at the sudden attention and stepped behind Sakura in an attempt to hide yourself.

Kiba was the first to break the silence, “Oi! Who do you miss, huh?” He says teasingly, moving his eyebrows up and down.

You felt yourself becoming redder and redder as you found Neji looking at you and Kiba curiously, but with a slight downturn of his mouth.

“Is it—”

You lounged at him to cover his mouth before he was able to finish his sentence. “Don’t you dare, Kiba.”

He raises his hands in surrender. You reluctantly remove your hand from his mouth. Lucky for you, he remains quiet, but he has a smirk on.

Sakura pulls you away to lead you to the girls’ table. You kept eye contact with Kiba as you mouth, I’m watching you while glaring at the man.

“Why did you even react like that when you were just talking about Naruto?” She whispered.

“Have you seen Kiba? He kept subtly looking between Neji and me. I’m pretty sure he’d tell on me right then and there so I had to stop him.”

“Why didn’t you just say it was Naruto?”

“I could have but the undertone in his voice sounded like he was implying I have feelings with the person I miss.” You explained exasperated.

Sakura just sighed.

You dropped the conversation as the girls started talking about what to order and how great the deals were. You immediately relaxed and smiled, happy to be in the presence of your friends.

You took a peek at the other table to check if Kiba had said anything, only to be met with Neji’s eyes focused on you. You stilled, not expecting him to be looking at you. You gave him a small smile and a wave, he just nodded, face devoid of any emotion and then he turned away.

You frowned.

Tenten was cooking the meat while the rest of the girls had engaged in small talk. You joined in the conversation every now and then but your mind was occupied by how weird Neji was acting.

Your friends were quick to notice it. Tenten handed you a serving of the cooked meat, “What’s bothering you?” She asked softly.

“You don’t seem yourself, Y/N…” Hinata said.

You quickly shook your head, “I’m fine.”

“Didn’t you have something you want to talk about?” Sakura pipes up.

You groan, knowing full well you weren’t going to escape this conversation. “So there’s this guy,” you pause as you took a bite off of the cooked meat Tenten gave you.

“You mean Neji?” Ino asks.

You suddenly choked on your food at the sound of his name.

The girls laughed at your reaction. “Well that’s embarrassing,” you muttered as your cheeks flushed pink. You look at Hinata, you were suddenly shy that your dilemma involved her cousin.

She nodded and offered you a smile so warm you feel your shyness dissipate. “Wa-was I that o-obvious?” You stuttered.

“Not really.” Ino chimed in. “Sakura here was the one who’s obvious. She’d always look between the two of you when he’s hanging out with the group. Not to mention the amount of times she asked Neji to walk you home. I’m pretty sure everyone in our group of friends caught on it already.”

You narrowed your eyes on Sakura and she cringed. “I’m sorry!”

You deflated and then shrugged your shoulders, “Doesn’t matter. As long as he’s not aware. Wait! He’s not aware, right?” You look at Tenten and Hinata.

“I’m not sure, I don’t think he’s ever mentioned it.” Tenten said.

You turned to Hinata in question, “He’s not really the type to share about those things.”

“Right.” You said before taking another bite on your food.

“So are you gonna tell us what happened?”

“It’s probably nothing.” You casually replied.

“Out with it.” Sakura said, her patience wearing thin as you tried to skirt around the topic.

You sighed but told them anyway. You told them what happened earlier after you finished training with Neji and then the conversation you had after you saw Lee. You even told them about the small interaction that happened at the shop while you all ate.

“I never thought he was that type.” Ino broke the silence after you told them the story.

You looked at her with curiosity. “What type?”

“The jealous type.”

Ino might as well have grown two heads with how you looked at her then. “Huh?” was all you could ever think to say.

“It’s obvious he likes you.” Tenten teased.

“If it was obvious then I would have known. I’m pretty sure we’re just good friends.” You said matter-of-factly.

Everyone groaned at what you’ve said, even Hinata. “You’re so dense,” Ino muttered.

“If he only sees you as a friend then why does he keep on stealing glances at you every now and then?” Tenten asked.

“What are you talking about?”

She discreetly pointed her finger towards Neji’s direction. You whipped your head to see and, lo and behold, there was Neji staring at you, but he was quick to turn away. You blushed and your friends giggled at the interaction.

“I’m too sober for this conversation.” You declared as your friends continued to tease you. “Alright, let’s drink!” was the last thing you said before you pushed the thoughts of Neji aside.

________________________________

You smiled at the memory. If Neji’s jealousy hadn’t been pointed out by your friends, you would have never started acting on your feelings. And you wouldn’t even be here waking up early cooking breakfast for him. You wouldn’t be the receiver of his kisses or hugs although you only got them in the confines of your house.

You were naturally affectionate, Neji knew this and he would indulge you with affection privately. In all honesty, if it was up to you, you would be holding his hand in public for the world to see, maybe even peck him on the lips from time to time, and hug him as much as possible.

However, Neji was a private person so you assumed he didn’t like public displays of affection. You respected that. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t get a little bit jealous when he sees Lee lift you up and spin you around or when he sees you and Kiba playfully pretend to fight which somehow always ends up with you on Kiba’s back or when Choji wraps you in a hug. Shikamaru and Shino aren’t as affectionate as the others but sometimes he’d find you slinging your arms over their shoulders. It bothered him sometimes. But all his worries quickly vanish at the end of the day, knowing it was he who gets to hold you at night and he who gets to see you first in the morning.

Coincidentally, you had your own worries when it comes to not being able to be affectionate with Neji in public. Sometimes your insecurities got the best of you. You would hear unreasonable voices in your head. Maybe he’s not proud of me. Maybe he only sees me as a temporary lover. Maybe I’m not good enough.

But you know this isn’t true when you find him looking at you with his loving eyes. He’d always give you the softest look that warms you more than hugs do. It was a look reserved for you only and it satiates all your thirst for affection, more than physical intimacy can.

You know he feels your love just as much from the way you’d cook him food, heal his injuries and brush his hair. Neji was an independent man, but somehow you made yourself so important that he found himself depending on you more. This wasn’t a problem for you because if it’s for Neji, you’d gladly accept such responsibilities. Always. Just for him.

#neji #neji hyuuga x reader #neji hyuga #neji hyuuga #neji x oc #neji x reader #neji x y/n #naruto #neji x you #neji fluff #naruto fluff

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