#how it makes his heart seize up strangely when you give him one of those guileless sun-bright smiles

[wri0thesley]

i think it might be sickeningly-in-love-and-lust and not sure how to deal with it dottore hours

[weakformingyu]

College jock | Y.J.

Pairing: I.N. x afab!reader

Genre: fluff, smut

Words count: 791

THIS AND ALL MY CONTENTS ARE +18, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!!

A/N: okay, why the hell did I stumble upon these pictures and jock Jeongin was the first thing that came to my mind? Like, my boy is looking good asf

College jock Jeongin who's not interested in anything but football, if he could he would stay training on the field all day.

College jock Jeongin who's forced to go to classes just so he won't bomb on all the subjects and get taken out of the team.

College jock Jeongin who sees you in social studies class, totally concentrated in something he doesn't give a fuck about.

College jock Jeongin who, for the first time, is interested in something other than football, that something being you.

College jock Jeongin who doesn't struggle so much to wake up to go to classes anymore, knowing he'll get to see you.

College jock Jeongin who scoffs at his friends when they say you always reject anyone that tries to hit on you, not believing you can resist him.

College jock Jeongin who's shocked when you tell him you're not interested in going out with anyone, much less someone like him.

College jock Jeongin who makes his new goal to actually woo you and his first win is when he manages to get your number from someone in your class.

College jock Jeongin who texts you first thing in the morning, a picture of himself in the mirror asking you if he should wear those clothes.

College jock Jeongin who gets upset that you don't answer him but at least you don't block him.

College jock Jeongin who reminds you to eat and drink water, who texts you good morning, good night and asks how your day is going.

College jock Jeongin who feels too happy about the smile you give him in the mornings when you see him in class.

College jock Jeongin who feels strangely attracted to you — someone who rejected him, every time you're in the same place as him, his eyes following you like a magnet.

College jock Jeongin who asks you out one more time, expecting a no again but being surprised by a positive answer.

College jock Jeongin who takes you to dinner in a nice restaurant, makes jokes just to hear your sweet laugh and feels so much more enchanted by you as he walks you to your door.

College jock Jeongin who leans closer to kiss you on the cheek but receives a peck on the lips followed by you hiding your face behind your hands while you give him goodnight.

College jock Jeongin who feels his heart beating like a hammer in his chest, even though it was just a peck on the lips, just like that he knows he's whipped.

College jock Jeongin who asks you to be his girlfriend one week after going out with you for the first time, not able to hold back anymore and confessing to you.

College jock Jeongin who proudly walks down the college halls, holding your hand and showing everyone he managed to get the girl.

College jock Jeongin who's so nervous the first time he meets your parents, shakily giving your father a handshake and flowers to your mother.

College jock Jeongin who enchants your family the same way you did to him, making them love him and seizing the opportunity to ask for a picture of you when your family is showing him your childhood photo albums.

College jock Jeongin who convinces your parents to let you two sleep in the same room, smiling brightly at them with his innocent face and making them believe he wouldn't do anything disrespectful in your childhood room.

College jock Jeongin who makes you dry hump on him, feeling your warmth hugging his covered cock while he covers your mouth telling you to keep quiet so your family won't hear you.

College jock Jeongin who doesn't like when other men approach you, coming around and sliding his arm possessively around you.

College jock Jeongin who makes you suck him off in the locker room, at the risk of anyone coming in, just because he needs you to reassure him that he's the only one you want.

College jock Jeongin who took his time before you two had your first time, making it romantic so you'll never forget about that night. He has to hold himself back as he fucks you nice and slowly, listening to your muffled moans like it's music to his ears.

College jock Jeongin who eats you out after he came inside you, tasting himself and drunkenly enjoying the juices that come out of your cunt, even though you're telling him you can't take it anymore.

College jock Jeongin who calls you in the middle of the class just so he can fuck you behind the bleachers while his team is training and suddenly football is not as important to him anymore now that he has you.

[jinwoosungs]

{ 020 }

- when you catch them falling asleep first -

featuring: gojo satoru, nanami kento, fushiguro megumi, okkotsu yuta

warnings: crack for gojo's, but mainly fluff for the rest :3

[ gojo satoru 🕶️ ]

don't let gojo's pretty face and seemingly perfect life fool you: this man has a sole imperfection that takes the form of his MONSTROUS snores. and you swore that these snores are loud enough to cause tremors to be felt across your shared apartment!

you came home from work a little later than usual, murmuring your greeting all while taking off your shoes in the process. as you brushed back your hair while running a hand through them, you were left frozen on your spot when you heard an almost... unnatural sound coming from within the depths of your apartment.

"h-hello? satoru? are you there?"

fear began to quickly seize at your heart, with you straining your ears as you tried to decipher the strange and almost guttural sounds. it was almost like... someone sawing a log while growling at the same time, coupled along with some other wet sounds that made you tremble in response.

grabbing a hold of one of your umbrellas settled near your shoe rack, you slowly inch closer to the source of the sound, hoping that the umbrella would be sufficient enough to use as a weapon.

you could feel the ice cold sensation of your blood rushing through your veins, filling you with anxiety and fear at what was to come. the closer to got to your bedroom, the louder those sounds became.

with your eyes clenched shut, you slam open the door while crying out "YOU STUPID CURSE...!"

only to feel your words die out the moment you turned on the lights to see your boyfriend splayed out in bed, his hair a complete mess against the plush pillows while a string of drool was seen on the corner of his lips.

yet perhaps what was most shocking was how those noises were coming from him!

now, you've been subjected to satoru's obnoxious snores before, but they had never quite sounded this... horrendous. which meant that the sorcerer was probably caught in a deep slumber right now.

allowing the relief to course through you, you toss aside your umbrella and step closer to the bed. your arms were crossed over your chest as you look down at him, reaching out a hand to pinch at his nose.

"nngh nggh ngh?!" you had to fight back a giggle upon seeing your boyfriend's eyes clenched shut in response. his arms were flailing around randomly until they suddenly managed to find you, pulling you down into bed with him as a cheshire cat grin slowly spreads across his features.

"heheh... welcome home, babe...!" his voice was still hoarse, clearly only half awake when he manages to wrap his arms tightly around your form. his rich chuckles were felt against your ear, making you giggle as you cuddled yourself even closer to him.

"you're such a dork, 'toru! do you know how much your snores absolutely terrified me when i came home from work? i genuinely thought a curse had followed you back to our apartment!"

your boyfriend rolls his eyes at you, giving you a smirk before pinching your own nose in response as your voice took on a more nasally quality.

"ngh, shtop it! i wash genunelly tewwified!"

"well that's what you get for makin' fun of me! my snores aren't that bad, okay?!"

after spending some time teasing each other, your beloved convinces you to fall asleep with him (after taking off your clothes and changing you into something more comfortable.) with a content purr, you agree to fall asleep while in his embrace, snuggling up even closer to him, ready to close your eyes-

"scccchhhhhhzzzzzz hngggg..."

only for your eyes to go wide when satoru manages to fall asleep first, practically snoring within your ear as you simply lay in bed while silently groaning to yourself.

tonight was going to be a long night for you.

[ nanami kento 🗞️ ]

the hardworking man who can never seem to catch a break. nanami will often fall asleep when you least expect it, but truly, you never had the heart to disturb him.

you were in the midst of cutting up the ingredients for tonight's dinner, and when you told your beloved kento to lay back and relax, he finally relented without any protest.

he had just gotten back from a rather long and arduous business trip the day before, and you had hoped that he would take this chance and sleep in, simply enjoying his day off. you wanted nothing more than to cook him his favorite meals consisting of chicken alfredo with a heavy helping of garlic bread.

you purposely got up early, ready to buy fresh ingredients for tonight's dinner when nanami ends up waking up with you. despite the dark circles seen beneath his eyes, he insisted on accompanying you (to make up for lost time).

even your attempts at convincing him to stay home fell on deaf ears, with your kento joining you on your errands, but not before allowing you to have breakfast with him at his favorite café where he surrounded himself with delicious coffee and all of the pastries he had been craving for.

with your day pretty much starting out like a much needed date, you finally came home around 6pm, where you were able to shoo kento away from the kitchen as you began working on making the chicken alfredo.

it was around 7:30 that you completed your dinner and called out kento's name. "ken, dinner's ready!"

you continue stirring at the pasta dish, already salivating at the scent of the white sauce along with the juicy cuts of chicken. you trail your eyes over to the large loaf of garlic bread, wishing to save heating that for last so that your kento could enjoy it freshly baked from the oven.

"kento?" you shut off the stove just then, placing a lid over the chicken alfredo as you went into the living room to check on him. you peek your head into the living room to see nanami settled in his usual spot on the couch with what looked like an open newspaper settled across his face.

making sure that your steps were quieter, you tiptoe even closer to him, gently removing the newspaper to reveal him sleeping against the couch. you could see the way his eyelids trembled while he slept, the sight of it all being enough to make you smile in response.

letting out your own yawn, you figured that once you got hungry, you could simply reheat the food and place the garlic bread in the oven then. feeling a bit tired yourself, you settle yourself next to kento, with your head on his shoulder while cuddling against him before joining him for a peaceful slumber.

[ fushiguro megumi 🐺 ]

the type to fall asleep in front of those who is truly trusted. like a wary dog wolf, megumi is the type to stay awake and wait until he's in the safety and comfort of his own bedroom to truly sleep. but lately... this seems to be changing when it comes to you.

you had invited megumi over to your place to have a movie night and a weeklong sleepover, not wishing to spend these long nights alone as your parents went on a much needed vacation together. they promised they would return in a week's time while giving you permission to invite a friend over to stay the night with you.

and of course, megumi ended up being your first choice.

you placed a lot of trust in him, despite being your best friend who just so happened to be a guy as well. had it been any other boy, your parents would have voiced their concern and suspicions-

but when it came to megumi, they could all visibly relax.

for starters, he truly wasn't like most boys who spent their whole lives salivating at the thought of spending the night at a girl's house. he was very deadpan and serious, not ever once treating you uncomfortably while maintaining a safe distance between you and him each time you were together.

(and so what if you happened to have the BIGGEST crush on him?)

if you were given a chance to be home alone like this, then there was no one you could possibly trust more than megumi. so when he finally arrives at your place right at 4pm, (his duffel bag in hand), you immediately went to hug him tightly.

"thank you so much, 'gumi! for agreeing to come over!"

"sure, don't mention it." his smile was a rare but tiny one, an expression he seems to save just for you while teasingly messing up your hair in response. his actions end up making you smile as you lead him to your living room, already setting up a blanket fort of sorts for you and megumi to enjoy for the duration of the week.

surrounded by bags of your favorite snacks and a box of half-eaten pizza, you held on tightly to your plushie as a scary movie was playing from your television screen. as the scary monster revealed itself from the shadowy depths of the forest, you let out a tiny squeak in response, momentarily looking away from the screen as your eyes met with megumi-

who was currently sleeping with a hand over his abdomen.

seeing such a sight made you forget all about the fear you once felt due to the movie, now filled with a fascination for the sleeping boy settled before you. making sure your movements were quiet, you shut off the t.v. and settle the remote off to the side.

holding your breath, you inch closer to megumi's sleeping form, and it brought you back to a certain memory you had from last year. it was the first time megumi had spent the night at your place, and it had happened because you wanted to study with megumi a bit for an upcoming exam.

what you didn't expect was for a storm to hit, making it impossible for megumi to return back home as you eagerly suggested that he spend the night at your place. he was hesitant and tried to convince you that he could walk back to the station without an umbrella, but it was ultimately the sight of your tears that makes him relent.

you wanted to give him your bed, but megumi absolutely refused to make you sacrifice your comfort for him. so, your friend ends up remaining on your floor with some of your plush blankets used as a makeshift mattress for him. that night, you had a hard time falling asleep since you were so aware of megumi's own movements as he tossed and turned throughout the night.

"megumi...?" you gave up trying to sleep, not liking the fact that your friend was having such a hard time falling asleep, too.

you swore you could hear him stiffen in the dead of night when you called out his name. "yeah?"

"are you okay? you can't sleep now, can you?" you ask him with a guilty sigh.

you remember hearing him let out a huff when he turns around to face you on the bed, "it has nothing to do with you, i'm just not used to sleeping in an unfamiliar environment. don't worry about me, just sleep like you normally do."

you rolled your eyes then, knowing that you couldn't sleep when your own crush friend was struggling to sleep. so, you joined him on the floor and kept him company throughout the night, talking about nothing and everything at the same time.

looking at him now, (seeing him in what had to be a deep sleep), you were mesmerized by how vulnerable he was. his spiked hair now remained mussed and flattened against the pillows, with his lips parted in tune to his own breathing.

reaching out a hand to brush back his hair, you sharply inhale when he opens up one eye to look at you.

"hm?" his gaze was still hazy with sleep, but you couldn't stop yourself from asking him, "you feel comfortable around me now?"

a tiny smirk paints his handsome features when he suddenly wraps his arms around your back. you let out a gasp, landing directly against megumi's chest as he brushes his lips against your hair.

"yeah, i do feel comfortable around you... something about you... makes me feel so soft... and warm."

megumi trails off just then, and judging from the way he tightens his arms around you before his breathing evens out, you had to smile and giggle a bit.

he had fallen asleep again.

not one to complain about being in megumi's arms, you let out a happy sigh before sliding your eyes shut, falling asleep within minutes as you dreamt of him...

[ okkotsu yuta 💍 ]

yuta was a notorious night owl, and most nights, you struggled to keep up with his late night binge consisting of movie marathon or shows that lasted several seasons. the only time you were able to convince yuta to sleep at a decent hour was when he was sick. and tonight was one of those nights...

your eyes were filled with concern for your boyfriend, feeling a bit panicked the moment he woke up with a fever.

his speech was slurred as he tried convincing you that he was just fine, but you did not believe him. forcing him to lay back in bed, it was now your turn to spoil him.

throughout the day, you made some soup for him while giving him his rounds of medicine with a tall glass of water to keep him hydrated. you took his temperature every couple of hours, and you were happy to see it steadily going down as the day progressed.

after caring for yuta, you spent the rest of the day tidying up your shared apartment, making sure that everything was back in its place so that once he felt better, then yuta wouldn't feel so stressed and have to worry about waking up to a messy apartment.

your last chore of the day consisted of you doing laundry, placing the newly washed clothes into the dryer before heading back to your shared bedroom with yuta.

the time read 9pm when you came back to your beloved boyfriend, letting out a sigh while stretching your body out. you already envisioned yuta scrolling through his phone after taking his medication-

so picture your surprise when you saw him still laying in bed, the damp handkerchief never leaving his forehead as his eyes were shut. his breathing was slightly labored, but not as bad as it had been this morning when the fever had first afflicted him. your heart seemed to melt at the mere sight of him, seeing his hand laying limply across your side of the bed, as if waiting for you.

"aw, my poor baby." you softly coo at him, shutting off the lights as you allowed complete darkness to settle across the room. walking to your side of the bed, you gently duck beneath the covers and slide closer to yuta, taking a hold of his hand with a bright smile on your face.

you listen as your boyfriend mumble a few words, finally adjusting his sleeping position as he turns to face you, the handkerchief now sliding completely off of his forehead in response to his movements. giggling softly, you take the damp handkerchief and remove it, placing the cloth on your nightstand instead while focusing your attention on him.

"sleep well, my love. i promise, i'll be by your side the whole time." you quietly promise him while squeezing at his hand in response.

and as you closed your own eyes, ready to join him in his land of dreams, you remain blissfully unaware of the smile that paints his features while he slept...

a.n. - i am so sorry, it feels like it's been forever since my last jjk update! but i hope this silly little update makes up for it 🥹 this is currently unedited, but i'll make any changes once this is posted!

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

[rorichuu]

in shades of violet ; 𝐠𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 — (part 2) .

pairing: gale x gn/fem!reader

authors note: uh HIIIII, this is proof I'm not dead, my heart is just suffering from another fandom :') posted from my ao3 account hurhur

disclaimer: gale and tav but with the line: "I will stand with you between the heavens and the Earth, I will tell you where you are, do you love me? - I love you!"

The silence clouded your shared camp with an unforgiving hush, the wind particularly brisk, and the whisper of the trees seemingly more pronounced. Those words spoken by Mystra's Chosen, deafening in their own heavy deliverance, refused to leave your crowded mind. The unforgiving visitor sang ill-sickening horrors that twisted your mind onto your own, thankfully not driven to insanity on the part of Shadowheart's found artifact. But there was more to this; more to find on the journey ahead. Paths left untrailed, answers yet unfound... this couldn't have been our last resort. You were to make sure of it. You could tell in the way Gale’s eyebrows knitted together, the way he bit his cheek, how his chest seemed to fall faster than before Elminster’s disrupted visit. The tension was suffocating, you couldn’t stand it. Just then, you had found your chest falling rapidly all the same… but not in a sense of sadness, nor of fear. But in rage. The Goddess asked of something you had found irrational, and even if the Gods held you back with all their might, they could not obstruct your determination.

“Time seems so infinite when you’re young… a month is an age, a year is a lifetime…” Your ears prickled upon hearing the wizard speak. His voice hummed with a self-deprecating laugh; you could hear the ache in his heart. “It is a strange feeling, to realize how little of it one might have left.” It was as if all light had fallen from his eyes. Once hazel in sunlight, once sparkling with awe and curiosity. You refused to have him snuffed out as if simply candlelight; you will preserve and hold his heavy heart for as long as you’ll have him. You turned to face Gale, your eyebrows furrowing in disbelief, a scoff leaving your throat harshly.

“You can’t possibly consider what She is asking of you.” Your voice slightly raised, you advanced towards Gale, your eyes sharing his with your unrelenting hold. You noticed Adam’s apple bob, he swallowed, slightly intimidated by you. But with a clench of his jaw, he stepped backward, clearing his throat.

“Of course, he offered the clearest solution to our problem,” he began. You frowned. “All I have to do is find the right place and time, close my eyes, and... well, let go.” He spoke as if it were a simple task. As if Gale had nothing to lose and everything to give. But how wrong he was, oh, how your heart cried due to Gale’s blindness. “Then the slate will be clean, wrongs will be righted, the Absolute will be gone… and I along with it.” His tone sauntered to a sort of grief... to a sort of realization.

“You’re an idiot. An idiot to think so,” your voice wobbled, your eyes threatened with tears. Gale’s façade had begun to falter as soon as your broken sentence left your lips, his heart ached for what he thought he could not have. “It’s a suicide mission. I can’t let you, not when there’s… undoubtedly, another way. There must be.” You looked away, shame rosing your cheeks in its warming triumph. You couldn’t let yourself go just yet.

“That… this, isn’t a choice either one of us can make Tav,” Gale spoke, his hand lifting to rest on your shoulder. In response, you bucked away from him, shaking your head. “It is your decision! It’s your life, and you are what you make of it!” Your throat began to seize up, burning with an intention to release your tears, but you fought it. You marched towards him; he stepped back in return. “I understand she is your Goddess; I understand your devotion. But what about… oh, lords above." A hand fell over your lips, cursing… your heart racing in your ceased thoughts. It was clawing at you; your love was destined to put your heart to ruin if you had let Gale continue his newly found mission… how badly you wished to speak of your daydreams; your fantasies; your devotion for the wizard, a love you had wished to grow old with. Had it only been a few weeks on your travels, if not months, and you were completely transfixed in his pretty words and captivating conversations… for it did not take long to realize your affections. But it hurt. It hurt more than poets could write on tarnished paper; more than the absence of a lover; more than the moon’s unrequited love for the sun. It tore at every seam of your heart.

Gale frowned, eyes catching yours as his hand lifted your face by his touch. “Speak to me.” He whispered now, the Earth around you began to shift in a mystic purple, caressing your skin with its doting charm. Your lip curled, and your heart pounded against your chest, bound to be left free from its cage. And so, you spoke.

“Do you love me?” Plain and true to your question, Gale blinked, taken aback… his hand fell. The Weave flickered by Gale’s fluttered heart.

“I’m doing this to protect you. To protect you all.” His response did not align with what you had asked him.

“Do you love me?” You continued to push your question.

“It wouldn’t… Tav, we couldn’t, you know this. We can’t—”

“Do you love me?” You advanced towards him, feet hot on his trail as he looked at you, small in your gaze. Gale stuttered in response, excuses falling from his lips. A deep purple smothered the both of you. “Do you love me!”

“Tav! Please, stop! Stop this!” Gale raised his voice in return, your lips twitched in your abrupt pause. The darkened purple was hushed now to its softened twinkle.

“Is this because you think you’re protecting me or yourself? Do you truly believe that if you do this, my love for you will simply shy away? Because it can’t.” Gale's eyes searched yours desperately as if his puppy browns could find anything within you. “I love you, Gale.” The way you had pronounced his name clearly in your sweetened words; the way you spoke plainly alone of your love held his heart in your divine chamber. And he wished to never leave it. “I love you so much that I will do as you wish. If you do not love me, all you have to say is you do not love me, and I will leave you to Mystra’s command.” Gale could not speak. Whatever he had wished to say to you had left his mind… it did not live up to what you were proposing, he only had your words coddled in his brain. His mouth was left agape, watching you speak.

You continued. “We will find the heart of the Absolute. I will leave you to Her command and I will go on with my days without you. All on my own, I will do that. But first, you have to say that you do not love me.” A quiet hushed over your words, his lips seemed to move; seemed to move in hopes to say something, but his voice was trapped. Gale’s mouth had gone dry, his mind enclosed with what he so desperately wished to say to you. “You must tell me that I am utterly alone in this world.” Gale’s eyelashes fluttered; his once gazing eyes that longed to be lost in yours had disappeared with the shaking of his head. His voice had soon accompanied yours.

“I am a danger; a ticking time bomb that will inevitably detonate,” his words were as though they were a broken record. You sighed, lip quivering. “The Weave is tireless and ever-so hungry. And eventually, I will become lost in it. Once I was lost to celestials above, and… I wish not to have you tangled within my own fault.” Gale had sounded as if almost desperate. You needed to hear it clearly. You needed to.

“Do you love me?” Your words continued to prevail an answer in search of his response. Slowly, he began to back away, hands raised in the hopeless comfort to retreat. But you continued to push, swirls of the Weave hugging your figure.

“You do not wish a life with me for yourself,” Gale kept his gaze on the ground, hands on either hip as he cowered. “No one wishes what I cannot give you.” Within Gale’s sorrow, a shade of violet hung heavy over his shoulders.

“Gale!” Catching his attention, his eyes met yours, fully swept within your pearled orbs. “I will stand with you between the Heavens and the Earth, I will tell you where you are, do you love me!”

“I love you!” With a final gust, shimmers of a royal lilac decorated your face with its beautiful hue. The world seemed to stop, the Weave with it. It had felled from his lips as though it were his last words; devotion he would happily give if he could have only you… disregarding Mystra, disregarding everything he knows for you. Selfish as that may be. A sigh left your lungs, relief soothing you. “From the moment… from the moment you pulled me from that rock. I have loved you desperately—I cannot breathe when you are not near… I love you, Tav." Within your shared breath, the Weave had fallen away… the whispers of the trees were once more, the song of the birds within the twilight… embraced into each other’s arms, a kiss was shared; deep and true, your lips did not tear, if even for a breath. For Gale did not need to breathe, you were his oxygen. His means of breathing; his means of living. But alas, the kiss was broken. You two had held each other, and felt the touch and warmth of each other’s bodies. A comfort Gale was at peace with knowing.

His voice broke through the silence.

“What I carry is darkness,” he whispered. “A suffocating darkness due to my own hubris. Tav, this is my burden. But you…” Gale had brought his hands to cup either side of your face, his softened gaze welcoming yours with the purest of adoration. “You bring the light.” He rested his forehead upon yours, eyes fluttering closed in the embrace of your presence. “I love you. I love you; I love you; I love you.”

“I want you and only you,” you whispered in solace. “I want you until the celestials find their end. Until the Earth cannot carry us no longer. I want you.”

“Then you shall have me.”

.

.

.

rorichuu!

[moonmaiden1996]

Claiming his Queen- Part 8 Full

So I just realised I only posted half my chapter- Which was super intentional- *facepalms* So last chapter was just to tease you for this

How it happened I have no idea! I’m gonna blame it on Desire they messed  with it somehow- think they are jealous they don’t get a mate ....yet

So please enjoy and like and comment 

DARK THEMES/SEXUAL ASSULT/ MORPHEUS BEING MESSED UP.

You had begun to hate waking up like this, in another strange bed in another bizarre surrounding. It had become such a regular occurrence that it seized to phase you. Your body was swaddled in the softest blanket, a gentle sea breeze caressing your face as it rolled off the lulling ocean. Brow crinkled as you blinked away the thick crust that coated your eyes as pristine crystal waves crashed against the shoreline, the gentle patter of rain in the distance sending ripples across the water. On the horizon, a billowing storm swirled, sending shocks of light across the sky.

Pulling yourself up, the cool air nipped at bare skin, blanket pooling around your waist as you sat up, leaving your naked torso exposed to the elements.

‘You’re awake.’ the deep voice filtered over the soft sounds of the weather.

A terrified shriek vibrated across the little oasis as the physical form of Morpheus manifested himself in a cloud of black sand, his silver eyes trained darkly on you as you scrabbled to cover your bare chest. You didn’t fail to notice the hungry look that sank deeply onto every edge of his face.

‘Where am I?” You snapped, huddling under the pile of blankets.

‘You are in the inner sanctum of the Dreaming, my heart.” The deep voice whispered as he inched closer, his eyes never wavering from you.

Anger prickled underneath your skin as you forced your eyes away from him. ‘Why am I here?’

‘I overwhelmed you. I blame myself for this, this can….’ His eyes lingered on the mark that mocked you from your arm. ‘be…. intense for baser creatures. I see that now. Here we are away from everything, where we can be alone to become one.’ Morpheus cooed.

Scoffing up at him, you felt a growl, only rival to his, fill your chest. ‘Baser creatures… you are deluded.”

The god stood tall, smouldering eyes burning down at you. “Deluded? Is it deluded to dress you in finery, give you every comfort and luxury? Love you, unlike anyone can be loved.”

“Love me? You insulted and kidnapped me,” You scoffed.

Silver eyes invaded your vision as his face hunched over you. “Kidnap? Is that what you think? I liberated you from that sallow pit of emptiness. You were alone. Suffering in silence just like me.’’

“Was Calliope the same’’? You gritted out, forcing yourself to stay still. You saw the fire erupt in his eyes and knew you had gone too far, but you couldn’t help; you needed to hurt him just like he hurt you. ‘I am sure she was lonely just like me; that’s why you married her, and then when she hurt you, you destroyed her.’

“Listen, my love, and listen well. Those dalliances were mere bleeps, cries for affection in my dark eternity, and nothing I felt for her or any of them comes near to what I feel for you. None of them wore my mark; none of them made my heart beat fast. You are mine. As I am yours.’’ Morpheus steely spoke as he stood straight, flicking his fingers and sending a command into the air.‘’Now we are together, that emptiness is gone, and I refuse to return to it. I will make you see that. Make you see that we belong together.’’

Wide eyes took in the god as he glowered down. A sharp gasp escaped your lips as the sheets disintegrated into nothingness, leaving you bare under his gaze.

You squeaked as you attempted to cover yourself, your eyes glaring up at the untamed god; his hair was wild, features feral as they devoured your form. ‘You truly are my goddess.’ He hummed as his clothes disappeared, leaving his taunt, wiry nakedness exposed in the light of the moon, his thickness firmly pressed against his stomach, taunting you.

Screwing your eyes shut, you turned your head.‘‘Morpheus!’

‘It is okay to look, my love; I am yours’’ His voice sounded closer now, warm breath hitting your face.

‘Morpheus, please no….’ you screwed your eyes tighter shut, his cock pressed warmly against the side of your hip.

‘Shhhhhhh’, he cooed. Lips ghosted over your neck. ‘Shhhhhhh, my dream, I won’t do anything you don’t want to do.’ His lips dipped down and suckled across the base of your neck and throat.

‘I am sorry, my dream. For it all, but I will take care of you.’ He mumbled into your skin, pulling a soft whimper from you.’

‘Please, we can’t, you…we….’

‘I know you’re confused and scared, but this mark means you are mine and belong here with me in our marriage bed.’ He spoke with utter certainty, his hand beginning to trail down your arm.

Feebly you tried to wiggle from his grip, but his grip remained firm. ‘Don’t worry, my dream that is to come; now I will just show you how good I can be to you.’ His lips latched onto your shoulder as his slender digits trailed down your arm, getting closer and closer to that tender mark.

‘‘Please don’t,’’ you whimpered as his fingers found the raised skin of the brand.

Fire coursed through your veins as the soft fingers prodded down the mark. A burn bubbled beneath your skin, setting your whole body on fire.

‘You feel that, that inferno that brewed within you. That is your soul yearning for our bond, for the ritual that will connect us.’ Morpheus rumbled, a deep growl vibrating against your skin. You stared into his silver eyes and shook your head violently.

A frown tore at the corners of his face as he stared down at you. For the briefest moment, there was a small reprieve. His touch disappeared from your mark, and the ferocious want inside you disappeared, but only slightly. There was still that shameful eagerness that strummed at your core. A sigh of relief escaped your mouth and turned into a wanton wail as two fingers plunged into your pussy, curling up to hit that spot.

‘Don’t deny it; you are so desperate for me. Your soul and body are begging for me, and I won’t refuse its cries.’ Morpheus hissed as he pressed his body against you fully. A smirk stretched out across his lips as you gasped loudly as his cock skimmed across the side of your hip, nestled against your sensitive skin.

His fingers remained still in your core as shark-like eyes gazed into yours as his fingers rolled over that spot repeatedly. A string of lazy moans fell from your lips, and he pushed you closer to the edge with every massage of his fingertip, sinful lips working at your neck.

‘Morpheus!’ you wailed as your legs shook.

You hated to feel this vulnerable, but the pleasure was so much, more than you had ever managed to gain with your fingers or toys; you wanted to bath in the release of this warmth, but every time, you seemed ready to surrender to it he pulled it from your grasp.

‘Not yet, my mate.’ He rumbled into your ear, ‘you need to beg for me to take you as mine; I want to hear your plea for my cock to start our soul bond. We aren’t leaving here till I have you.’’

The last bit of your sanity kept you grounded as your whimpered no. You could refuse this; you had strength; he would soon grow bored with this game and retreat; if he didn’t, his ministration would numb you and seize to give you pleasure. No human could keep up this feeling of bliss for that long. Either way, you would not submit.

Xxxxxxxxxx

You were wrong; he neither grew bored nor complacent with his movements. Even adding a  languidly rolling thumb over your clit as he plucked your sweet spot. The pleasure you felt only gained momentum, never wavering, just building an insane intensity. You had lost count of how often he brought you close to the edge and ripped you away again.

‘Morpheus, please, I can’t.’’ You jerked against his hold, but it was unrelenting.

‘Not until you give me that plea, my mate.’

Tears of need rose in your eyes as the climax was snatched away from you. His face was deep in concentration as his fingers now pistoned in and out of you. He could sense your resolve breaking, and like a floodgate, you burst.

‘Please, Morpheus!’ you pleaded to the god above you.

A feral cry of victory drifted across the heart of the dreaming as Morpheus pulled your thighs apart and nestled himself against your core, coating himself with the mess you created.

His mouth was on yours instantly, slow and needy; the love and tenderness expressed almost made you sob. A shudder ran through your body as he nipped at your lips. Soft fingers tangled in your hair, giving him more access to your mouth. His other hand trailed down the side of your body, settling possessively on your mark, and he shifted his hips, his thick cock against your burning core with a hiss.

‘I am going to claim you.’ Morpheus purred before returning to suckle at your neck, pulling another mew from you. ‘Come so deep it you that everyone will know you are mine.’ Nip. ‘I’m not going to stop till you full of my cum….’’His voice had a low rasp as he rocked his hips against you, his cock nudging clumsily at your opening, making you jolt against him.

‘Morpheus…’ you whimpered against him, pushing against his chest.

"Shhhh, my mate’’ Morpheus pulled back to look at her. His eyes were pure windows of swirling silver. ‘’Relax as much as you can for me.’’ The head of his cock dragged sinfully down your core before lining up against your opening.

Swiftly his hips slammed into you, sending white-hot fire through your body. The feeling was too much; it overwhelmed every one of his senses as he stared down at you as he sank fully into you. The tightness of your walls fluttered around him as they struggled to adjust to his thickness.

An electric jolt travelled through you as you struggled to accommodate his hardness stretching you. The pain was searing, but there was something else, something tightening within you, branding you. Your eyes slammed shut; as he settled between your legs, body fully covering yours. Every nerve ending was alive, sending your body jolts of pleasure and pain.

"...fuck." he hissed as you ground your hips against his. The friction against your swollen clit pulled a small pleasured squeak through the pain, relishing the feel of his hot cock against your walls.

It was too much. He was too much. You wanted to run away but pull him closer at the same time. The stretch hurt almost as much as the pain vibrating through your arm to your heart.

‘Morpheus, it hurts’, you whimpered as he shifted to look at you with his mercury eyes.

‘It’s okay, let me take care of you.’’ He gritted out through clenched teeth as he pulled back an inch before pushing back into you, the god grunting as your tight pussy clenched around him.

The feeling was nothing like you had ever encountered; it was slow and steady, dragging you to the most peculiar feelings of pleasure you had ever experienced. You felt a coil tightening in the pit of your stomach as Morpheus slowly moved in and out of your core.

Morpheus bit a moan as your tight walls pulled him back in at every movement. The feeling was intense—more than he had ever felt before. Your walls quivered and shuddered beneath him as he set a slow, unforgiving pace. With each thrust, his balls trembled at the feeling and spurred him on toward his orgasm, but despite the need for release, the urge to care for you was too much. He pushed forward, ignoring his base instinct to start the claiming ceremony now. But he clenched his teeth, sliding in and out of your tightness with a renewed vow.

‘Look at us’’,, he gritted out, forcing you to follow his eyes that fell on his cock plunging in and out of you, streaked with your wetness ‘’you're going to make the perfect queen and mother; I cannot wait till your round with my children. You are going to let me, aren’t you? Be my good little queen.’’ He roared as his hips snapped harder against you, knocking your response out of your throat.

You couldn’t do anything. The feelings that swirled within you were too much. You felt it building; it was slow, too slow; but was coming; you could feel it as he piston his hips against you, his thin body grinding against the most delicate spots. You knew what would happen, yet you couldn’t prepare yourself for how violently it took hold.

The orgasm slammed into you as your screams filtered through the heart of the dreaming. Morpheus grunted as you clamped tightly around him, holding him firmly. A primitive roar pulled itself from his lips as his balls tightened and flooded your pulsing pussy, making your neediness wantonly milk him for every drop.

You were helpless against him; he was everywhere—the hand holding your mark possessively as the energy pulsed through you as he gazed down at you.

A scream ripped through your throat as your walls spasmed against Morpheus’s cock. As the connection tightened around them. His cock swelled inside you, spurt after spurt, coating your pussy as your mark sizzled against you.

A weak cry crawled up your throat and pushed past your lips as another wave rolled through you. Aftershocks rolled through your body, each one more intense than the last. Your whole body was utterly boneless, unwilling to move as Morpheus rolled you to your side, cock buried deep within you. His fingers ghosted over the mess of your joining. A deep purr of contentment rumbled from him as he pulled you to him.

So *hides behind hands* what you think?

If you do want to be tagged please comment below.

Question of the chapter- How do you think the claiming ceremony is going to go?

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[datawyrms]

Tick

He hadn’t wanted to just run off to the Far Frozen again, to take advantage of his ghostly allies for every little problem. Feeling a bit funny in ghost form wasn’t anything new, wasn’t something worth worrying about. It was just a noise. A little thing.

He figured it was just his heart, still beating under ectoplasmic skin. It only felt louder, made his chest twinge uncomfortably because that wasn’t normal for ghosts, that’s all. He was only imaging the click. There wasn't a tick.

He ignored it. It did not ignore him. The stiffness, the discomfort only increased. He had hundreds of reasons to brush it off. How many ghosts had bones like he did? He felt fine after he changed back. It was a ghost only problem, and of course he felt sore as a ghost! Danny fought ghosts as a ghost, and got very well acquainted with the texture of buildings doing so. It would be strange if he wasn’t sore sometimes.

He would have kept ignoring it, dismissing it if his hand hadn’t seized up. It wouldn’t move beyond the slightest shudder, as if his muscles had locked in place. Being human didn’t make the sudden lock up vanish, and the noise he swore had been his heart clicked so loudly in his ears that he thought something had broken.

So much for not bothering Frostbite.

“I can suggest steps, Great One, but without confronting the cause the changes will continue.” The yeti’s massive fuzzy hand on his shoulder was not very comforting with the news that came with it. “Nor can I reasonably expect we would be able to make the ghosts responsible reverse it.”

“I don’t care who it is, I’ll still clobber them if it cuts this creepy stuff out.” Creepy was an understatement, but the only word he could think of. The ticking kept going at the same constant speed, ignoring or blind to his irritation and fear.

“It would be beyond even you. I am sorry. However, any of us here would be willing to assist you. I fear living outside of the Infinite Realms may become difficult if your body locks up more severely.”

“I’m not going to let someone make me unable to go home because they put some dumb ghost curse on me!”

Frostbite did not laugh, did not shrug and let him go ‘try’. Instead his grip tightened as he lowered his great head down to his eye level. “Young one, you cannot fight off time itself. I do not know why it has ensnared you, or how you caught its attention. I only know how to help you keep those growing gears in order.”

It sounded even worse when he phrased it like that. Gears? Like it wasn’t bad enough that he was half some weird ghost, he had to just add weird mechanical bits in too? “What do you mean time itself? You said a ghost did it!”

“Yes. There is a ghost, in theory. I do not know if they actually exist. I only know that in order to keep ‘peace’ within the realms time will twist some ghosts. To give them weaknesses, to keep any one ghost from becoming greater than it.” Frostbite didn’t flinch from his yell, instead focusing on Danny’s much smaller hand, ever so gently moving it and listening for a small click in each joint. “If they do not wish to be found, they will not be. I should be able to fix the misalignment- but it is temporary. Your body will not move in perfect sync with these new growths. They’ll catch and freeze like this again if you are not careful.”

Danny felt an awful lump in his throat. There was only one ghost that did time stuff? One ghost that was doing this to him? Putting freaky cogs and gears under his skin so they’d catch and break? To leave him helpless and unable to move like how his hand had become useless?

It wasn’t a nice thought, but he didn’t want to argue with Frostbite about a ‘time ghost’. If it wasn’t who he was thinking of, they’d know more than his fuzzy friend anyway.

-----------------

He found the clock tower as easily as he did the time he tried to beg for help in curing his friends after Vlad made them sick. The door was already half open, so he did not have the satisfaction of knocking it aside or kicking it down.

Instead he only had the constant ticking of the massive gears inside the tower. The ticking that was in perfect sync with that awful grinding in his chest, the uncomfortable twinge under his knuckles as if something far too large had been crammed under the joints. As if he was part of it. “Clockwork!” Was it a furious bark, or more of a pitiful mewl? He couldn’t tell over how loud everything felt.

Red eyes loomed over him, sudden and unexpected.

Nothing. Clockwork did not speak. Danny couldn’t force another word out of his throat, even though he wanted to scream at him, to ask what gave him the right to slip awful machinery inside him- to control him.

Clockwork’s face twisted for only a moment, swiftly enough that he couldn’t quite tell if it had been in rage or some other emotion full of bared teeth. “You are in trouble again, I take it.”

His passive question ignited the anger simmering in his chest, confusion knocked aside with a furious certainty. “Because of you!”

“In part.” Clockwork looked away, but did not move out of range of any attack Danny would care to make. “I did not kill you when ordered to.”

“I’m not talking about that! I’m talking about these- this- clockwork! Inside me!” He could have known- it was even the weird ghost’s name- how stupid was he?

“I understand. It is not an enjoyable experience, but one gets used to it, in time.”

No apology? Not even an explanation? “Why? I don’t- I don’t want this!” His fingers clenched and he pulled his arm back, prepared to take a swing. Instead of taking it his elbow made an awful crunch and froze, just as useless as his hand had been before.

Clockwork came close, reaching for his arm but he flew back, eyes burning in anger. “Don’t touch me! Not when you did it!”

The hooded ghost did not approach again, but did not back away either, shifting ages instead as if it would make a difference. “I understand your condition. Let me help, I will not harm you, and leaving your arm in that state will only make things worse in the future.”

He really wanted to shoot Clockwork right now. “No!”

Clockwork lowered his arm and sighed, eyes seeming dimmer than usual. “Very well. Just take care of yourself. If you awake with a key, guard it with everything you have.”

Still nothing useful from the bizarre ghost, just what sounded like threats. “I was stupid to think you were kind.” Danny spat as he backed away. He had to find some other way to fix this, a way to get a jump on this jerk of a ghost.

“I understand the pain you are going through. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone else.”

Danny left. He didn’t want to hear anything else. Didn’t want to feel how in sync all the weird little movements inside him were as he listened to seconds tick by. He hated how it smothered his anger and almost seemed to comfort him while he felt awful little metal disks clicking in his limbs. He couldn’t be here, he wouldn’t. He’d come back with friends and make him undo it.

---------

“You always complain you are lonely, Time Master. Be grateful.”

“I will not.”

“Pardon? Did you say you did not want your clock wound? That is what it sounded like, Clockwork. Did I mishear you?”

A low rumble that died into nothing but the constant beat of seconds. “Thank you.”

“Better. It’s difficult for an antique like yourself to get anything done all wound down like this, after all.”

Clockwork could only grit his teeth and refuse to look at his tormentor, the holder of a key he could not function without. “You will not take his key.”

“Of course we will. No reason for a pair of clocks to hold them. It is not as if he could wind himself.”

Perhaps not himself. Yet they could help one another. If only he had not lost his. In only he hadn’t entrusted it to traitors who claimed to work for ‘order’

[crunchetime]

Some D&D oc's from my second set! (I made 3 sets of characters based on each of the 14 playable classes including Blood Hunter and Artificer so I now have 42 OCs in this roster total lmao)

Sammi Silvertongue [any pronouns]

Hill Dwarf Bard, College of Eloquence In any given town where revolution is brewing, you may hear the name "Silvertongue" spoken, and tales of a powerful family of dwarves who find themselves at the right place and the right time to foster change and fight any oppressor. Whether it be through actions or words, the Silvertongues have a penchant for toppling tyrants and destroying corrupt regimes from the inside out. The youngest of this line of upstarts, Sammi expresses their performative and inspirational talents through slam poetry, cooking up a rhythmic verbal cadence that carries the beat of the world around them. Sammi is incredibly observant, gathering information on their surroundings constantly. Often, it's simply to build up a vocabulary in case something calls for a quick stanza, but this methodical perception also keeps Sammi present and ever on the lookout for the next opportunity to make a difference. Sammi is a prodigious diplomat able to both soothe potential foes and rally hesitant allies, making them a much-sought-after public speaker for groups on both sides of the law.

Jarec V'nindu [he/him]

Githyanki Blood Hunter, Order of the Ghostslayer Jarec was a fresh face amongst the ranks of the Githyanki's interdimensional crusade, and he learned pretty quickly that his heart just wasn't in it. He chose to slip away from his post one day in the Shadowfell and ducked through a portal into the material plane, but it seems as though he may have brought something unsavory along with him. Whether it be through consequence or a seized opportunity, some otherworldly force snuck its way into Jarec's bloodstream and now periodically gives him glimpses into the space between the planes. Through this strange ability, Jarec has learned how to communicate with the dead and track souls that refuse to go gently into the beyond. He, however, isn't terribly interested in the quarrels of fading spirits. He's found another benefit of the curse; a current of powerful radiant energy runs through his veins, which he can harness to empower his abilities in combat. A born mercenary, Jarec is always on the search for loot, glory, and ways to sustain his lust for adventure. At least he's pointed in the right direction. For now.

Dakka Noregh [she/her] Kobold Artificer, Alchemist

Dakka used to be the servant of a tyrannical white dragon, until a band of adventurers slew it in its mountain lair. Ever the opportunist, Dakka groveled at their feet to spare her, and in exchange, she'd provide them her services as an alchemist. They agreed, and as it turns out, those adventurers ended up founding their own guild and regularly do business with Dakka! The only problem is that those particular adventurers aren't exactly the best people to be indebted to. For life. When Dakka couldn't split the price of renting a new alchemical shop with the cost of supplies needed for the guild's orders, she tried to bargain with the guild to cut her a break. As it turned out, however, they were already planning to replace her with a new alchemist without giving her any notice. She wasn't exactly happy about that, and may or may not have thrown a flask of acid directly onto the new alchemist's face. Now, with dozens of freelance murderers at her heels, Dakka frantically searches for kinder murderers to surround herself with, and to make some money on the side making potions. Her newest invention is a hair growth potion, which she tested on herself as you can see.

Harv Greymoor [he/him] Pallid Elf Druid, Circle of the Moon

Not much is known, nor can be said, about Harv Greymoor. He grew up unglamorously in high elven society, worked as a magic college's groundskeeper for a few hundred years, and retired early with a nest-egg that ran out WAY more quickly than he expected. In an effort to sustain a bohemian lifestyle, Harv now works security on wagon trains and airships. One could take a look at this spindly, scruffy, pale elf and assume him harmless, but as it turns out, this guy's been living out in the wilderness and getting so in tune with nature that he has a direct line to some kind of moon deity. So now I guess he can just kinda turn into animals and cast spells. He thinks it's neat. These abilities come in handy for his clients, which means it keeps ample food on the table for Harv. Which is good, because his appetite has grown significantly with his powers. I'm sure that's not indicative of anything foreboding.

Sybil [she/her] Ardling Ranger, Beast Master (revised)

(For those unaware, Ardlings are a new race/species included [or just revised? I'd never heard of them before now] in the OneDND playtest material. They're basically just a way for you to play your fursona. Sybil uses the Flyer subrace, since she's sort of a bat/owl chimera.)

Sybil has little recollection of where she came from. She simply appeared on an artificer's doorstep as a baby one night, half-blind and terribly injured. The artificer raised her and nursed her back to health, helping her retain the mobility and senses she otherwise would have lost from her injuries. With reinforced bones, improved sight, and a bit of telepathy to assist her speech, Sybil uses her augments to safeguard the forest surrounding her mentor's workshop. Occasionally, though, she likes to fly to nearby towns and socialize. Everybody likes Sybil. She's a good-natured prankster and leads a surprisingly tumultuous love life. The townspeople are all just thankful that the guns hidden inside her legs only come out for monsters.

[crowley-in-arkham]

Albus City: the Gotham Antithesis, or so Rook says.

I'd say he's right, even amidst the winter season Albus seems warm—despite the military occupation.

When Rook asked me to keep my passport ready, I was somewhat taken aback by the sheer amount of precautionary measured implemented. I can somewhat understand why Crane never made it out this way.

"Arkham?" One of the guards eyes my ID critically, "We haven't had a doctor from there come into Albus for a while."

"Someone from Arkham?" I asked, furrowing a brow. (If it's Crane I'll lose my mind.)

"Uh, yeah, Arkham—I think. I assume the founder? Or related? Lanky guy, bad haircut—round glasses. Looks like he just walked out of the 50s."

"That'd be Jeremiah Arkham." Rook snickered, "He's the founder's son."

"I'm not here for work," I piped up, "Just to get a license."

Rook chuckled, "Kust here for the beauty of the Sunbleached City!"

The guard raised a brow, looking at Rook with a sting of familiarity. "You Fujimoto's boy?"

Rook seemed to straighten up in his seat, "Yeah, uh, Inko's my mom."

"Hope you're doing her proud up in Gotham," the guard squint his eyes, "Not gettin into fights still, I hope?"

Rook stared at the guard for a moment then it clicked to him: "Oh! I didn't even recognize you Bryn!"

The guard let out a hardy laugh and ruffled the Avian's hair, "Just glad you did eventually. What a fine coincidence, bein' on duty the day you decided to come home."

"It's good to see you! Suppose its better you than someone else have to hear me explain why the Doc and I are here."

"Well, lay it on me an' I'll lend you an ear," the guard flashed me a fanged grin and a wink.

"I'm not sure what I can and cannot disclose—" I started, before Rook interjected.

"The doctor's just treading carefully. She has kind of latent anomaly. While I'm here I'm gonna have Dr. White take a look at her, maybe he'll spy something Gotham can't."

The guard narrowed his golden eyes, "I know I needn’t tell you, Rook, but, your friend here should get the history lesson before she goes pokin' around the Heart."

"Heart?" I echoed to myself.

The wolf-like guard pointed a clawed hand up towards a large skyscraper crowned in glass domes: beside it, like a false sun, a glowing white ball of some ethereal nature.

"That's the Heart," The guard explained, standing back up, from Rook's window. "Give her all the Albus City warnings once you get home, especially if she'll be prodding at White and the other researchers. Last thing we need right now is more stress on the labrats: Creed's got that covered."

"Will do, sir."

Frankly, I was left with far more questions than answers. Rook drove carefully through the city, explaining district after district and gang relationship to gang relationship.

I was surprised with the nature of Albus, the city was treated as if it were an independent state from the rest of the US because of it's anomalous nature.

I sighed, interjecting on Rook explaining why the Hawkwood Majors and the Springtown Wreckers contest over territory despite Haven being Vig territory. Whatever those words mean.

"What exactly does Dr. White do?"

Rook chuckled, "Basically what Strange does, but instead of tampering with your DNA he only tries to stabilize anything dangerous."

"Stabilize anything dangerous?" I said skeptically, "Like, cure cancer?"

"No, he only works with anomalies—like you, me, Ivy. Some anomalies can be incredibly dangerous and unstable—like the Majors I was talking about earlier."

I chuckled, "You lost me when you were on the Majors."

Rook snickered, "No worries, its a lot. Majors get their name from their shared anomaly. It's just called Majoris: it just makes them big. It's one of the most common anomalies: yet one of the most unstable."

"Unstable how?"

"They can randomly lash out, sent into a blind rage by some unknown stimulant— like— Epilepsy. Something in their brain gets triggered. Instead of seizing though— it's like their adrenal system goes into hyperdrive and they go full elephant rut. Terrible stuff."

"So Dr. White helps them? Fixes them?"

"He's more like a—" Rook motions his hand looking for the word, before clicking and exclaiming: "Like a psychiatrist for metahumans!"

"I see," I mulled quietly, before adding an optimistic, "I can't wait to meet him then."

Rook shook his head excitedly, "Honestly, you'll get to meet pretty much everyone."

I tilted my head, "Everyone?"

Rook shrugged, "Maybe not the Vigilants, but my mom and people she works with, definitely!"

I furrowed my brows and smiled, "Well, I'm sure your mother is lovely— but, um—" I chuckled awkwardly, "Who— who are the Vigilants?" Rook had pulled into a space in front of a building complex. It was a quaint little dojo wedged between a natural remedy shop and an attorney's office.

Rook chuckled and looked at me with a raised brow, "Seriously?"

I apologized, "Sorry, sorry, I've never heard of them."

Rook chuckled, "They're like Albus' personal Justice League: it's best not to think about it much deeper than that though."

"Why not?"

"Albus isn't a perfect city," Rook shrugged, "it's just inverse Gotham. Instead of seeing it go down on the streets, it all goes down in boardrooms and laboratories."

Rook hopped out of the Jeep and plucked my bag from the back seat. When we entered, he'd held the dojo door open for me.

It was a decorated dojo, with soft brown and tan tatami mats and tasteful ink murals on the walls.

"Welcome to the Yamakarasu Dojo," Rook chuckled, "the stairs are over here."

A woman around my height poked her head out from a storage room.

"Is that—" the woman asked through a squinted gaze, flicking down a pair of brown glasses. She gasped, busting out from behind the counter leaving a crash of books and papers in her wake: "My little mountain crow!" The winged woman basically tackled Room out the door.

"Hey ma—" The woman seemed to only register my presence after tacking her son out of the door, "This is my co-worker, Mina."

The woman laughed and took my hand in hers, apologizing, "Sorry, sorry, Sousuke never calls so I had no idea you two were coming!"

I narrowed my eyes at Rook who chuckled awkwardly.

"Come on upstairs and I'll get the guest room set up for you," She motioned, "A bit close to the holidays to be making your way to Albus, don't you think?"

Rook chuckled, "Two birds with one stone."

I looked at him and so did his mother.

Rook laughed, "Well, I thought it was funny."

His mother rolled her eyes and lead me up to the main apartment: a tiny nook with pleasant green walls and a myriad of plants throughout.

"Ivy would like it here," I chuckled, nudging Rook on the shoulder.

The avian snickered and carried my bags, following behind his mother.

"What did you come home for anyway, Sou?" Rook's mother asked, while I eyed the photos on the wall.

"I need to have Marcus take a look at Crowley," Rook admitted, "She's a bit of a unique case."

Rook's mother raised a brow, "She looks fine to me."

Rook chuckled, "Well, she wasn't really—" he took a moment to find the word, "One of us before."

Inko chuckled from the guest room, "The hell does that mean, Sousuke?"

Rook sighed, "She didn't have wings ma."

Into stopped and laughed wryly, "What?"

"She was 110% normal human until recently."

"You mean to say she just—" Inko flicked her fingers out to mimic a poof.

"Yeah, except kind of literally."

Rooks mother sat on the bed and looked at me, "So, tell me what happened."

I turned and pondered for a moment on what I could and couldn't say.

"Trust me, I won't tell a soul no matter how questionably ethical it might be."

I hesitated, and Inko sighed, "Alright. Take your shirt off."

"Excuse me?"

"Mina, just trust me."

"Does Rook have to be here?"

"Would you rather it be me or Dr. White?" Inko said flatly.

I stopped and sighed, "Fair enough."

I struggled to pull newly grown wings from my shirt's haphazardly cut back, before sitting down on the bed next to Rook's mother.

She stood up and began eyeing my arms and neck critically.

She stopped when she spotted a small scar on my abdomen.

"Have you had any repetitive injections in the last few months?"

Rook looked concerned.

"I can't say for certain, but I do have reason to believe I have, yeah."

Inko stared at me with wild concern, "You have reason to believe? The hell happened to you?"

Inko shook her head, "Sousuke, I'm going to come to the lab with you when you see White. If anyone else has received the treatment Mina here has: I would like to know immediately."

I pondered, "The only one I know for certain is Jon."

Rook piped up, "Could you elaborate? We're kind of in the dark about this."

Inko sighed, "I can explain when we get to the lab. I want to run some tests to determine whether or not this is what I think it is."

"What you think it is?" Rook barked, "Mom, would you just tell us?"

"When the Heart first opened there were a ton of projects opened up to understand anomalies in Albus and why they occurred so much differently and far more frequently in Albus than anywhere else in the world," Inko explained while she pulled a coat on.

"A few projects regarded a substance that was discovered after the Heart opened: we call it Rylumine, and it's something all anomalies in Albus share. These projects aimed to create consistent and artificial anomalies by injecting foreign fetus' and babies with the substance: the only—" She made quotations with her fingers, "'Successful' project being Operation Lazarus."

"Marcus and I will explain more when we get to the lab," the woman assured, "but I have reason to suspect that you and this 'Jon' fella have been subject to Rylumine injections."

"Is it dangerous?"

"Anomalies are a dice roll. Some people become angels, some people end up like Claude Gideon."

"Claude Gideon?"

"Albus City Bruce Wayne:" Rook interjected, "if Bruce Wayne went nuts and murdered his girlfriend."

"What?"

Inko motioned her hand, "Sorry for giving you zero downtime, hun, but you might have been caught in the midst of Albus' dirty laundry."

I've never been more confused in my life.

[ceph-the-ghost-writer]

Whumptober Day 4 & 5

Waking Up Disoriented | Hidden Injury | Blood Loss | Running Out of Air

Beyond & Between Masterlist

Summary: Justin has an awkward first meeting when Fior isn't home.

Words: 1303

Content | Advisory: Misunderstanding between human and inhuman characters, language barrier, blood, self-inflicted wounds, barbed wire-like bonds, fingers pressing into wound, noncon kiss, fear of noncon (doesn't happen), traumatic memory of captivity, being grabbed, pinned, crushed under someone's weight, threat of slow suffocation, begging, panic

The last thing on Justin’s mind when he'd left Earth had been his sleep cycle. As soon as he’d settled in with Fior, though, the problem shot to the top of the list.

Time was an elusive concept in the sunken city beyond the Hinterlands. Without a sun or moon hanging in the sky, there was no way to mark its passage. Fior’s people didn’t have jobs in the way humans did, and seemed to keep appointments by either whim or need. Similarly, his body was hit with fatigue or hunger at intervals that might’ve been echoes from his schedule back on Earth, yet without any way to measure they might as well have been at random.

So, when a crashing noise woke him, Justin had to take a moment to get his bearings. He pushed himself up onto both hands, blinking as he glanced around. Under him was a divan upholstered in silky purple fabric. Turning and sitting up, a soft blanket fell off onto the stone floor. Wrought-metal crystal lamps cast faint light from between tall shelves recessed in the walls. Filling them were what looked like irregular panes of colored glass, stacked on their edges. Transcribed tablets. Fior’s library. That’s right. He’d caught himself dozing off while working at the table in the middle of the room, so he’d laid down to rest. For how long he had no clue, of course.

A thump from the next room over made Justin’s heart leap into his throat. It could’ve been Fior, back from her shopping excursion. Then again, locked doors weren’t a feature of most places in the city. She’d assured him her residence had ample protection against thieves or intruders, but what did he know about magic in this alien realm? He hadn’t known much about it on Earth to begin with.

Shifting his weight slowly so the divan wouldn’t creak and give him away, Justin got to his feet. Trying to keep his mind as blank as possible, he snuck over to the nearer entrance and peeked out of the archway.

In the gloomy passageway lurked a silent, hulking figure. Even stooped and lolling against the smooth stone wall, it matched Fior in height. Swaths of white skin stood out in the dimness. Justin squinted, trying to make sense of the strange, sharp frills poking out from its skull. A mistake. The creature’s odd head snapped up, sensing him. Justin choked on a scream and stumbled back as the thing lumbered toward him. Tripping on his own feet, he fell down hard on his rump. Tears of pain from a bruised tailbone mingled with those of fear when the intruder entered the library, coming into full view.

A mask. The pointy, elongated angles of its head belonged to a mask, though one unlike any Justin had seen before. Fashioned from the skull of a beast that combined avian and canine features—not to mention had far too many eye sockets—it covered the stranger’s head and face down to the nose like a helmet. Sinuous symbols scratched in red decorated the bleached surface. Below the mask was a square jaw and chapped lips chewed bloody and swollen. More blood streaked the person’s chest, visible through the ragged, shredded black robes hanging half off their massive shoulders. The barbed wire or cord wrapped around their torso likely had something to do with both. More had crisscrossed their arms, biting into the flesh with every flex of muscle. Justin gasped, a cramp of guilt seizing his stomach. No wonder Fior’s wards hadn’t stopped them from entering. The stranger wasn’t an enemy. They were in pain.

“Are you hur—” Justin shook his head at his own stupid question. “Is there some way I can help you? Somebody I can call?”

The stranger answered with a murmured string of words in the native language. Fior’s name was the only one Justin recognized. His ears and neck grew hot.

“I can’t…I’m sorry. I don’t understand.” He hadn’t felt a need to learn. Why would he? Everyone who wasn’t human was a telepath, for goodness sakes.

More unfamiliar words. The stranger’s soft tone and rise and fall of their cadence brought poetry to mind. They took another step, but their knee buckled, sending them to the floor too. Blood pattered on the stone like rain drops. Justin, a sympathetic noise coming from his throat, leaned toward them, placing a hand on their arm where there was a gap in the wire. He jumped when the stranger grabbed his wrist. The spikes wrapped around their palm scratched at his skin.

“Hey, be careful! Don’t—”

They tightened their grip when he tried to pull away. He cried out as cruel points bit into him. His instincts told him to struggle, but sense kept him still. Yanking or twisting would only cut him up more. So, stiff and wide-eyed, he watched the mumbling stranger pull his hand into their tattered robes. He yelped again when his fingers pushed into something hot and wet—a wound beneath the ribs. The stranger groaned, grimace full of sharp, scarlet-stained teeth.

“Stop, stop! I said stop! Please, I don’t know what you want, why are you doing this—”

Another hand clenched around Justin’s chin, spikes pricking the soft underside of his jaw. The morbid skull mask and distorted mouth leaned in, closer and closer. His heart spasmed from an awful moment of realization right before the stranger kissed him. The tang of iron and tears coated the inside of Justin’s mouth. He screamed, muffled by his assailant’s lips and tearing his bottom lip on their inhuman teeth, but he didn’t care. He screamed again as greater weight pressed him down to the floor, memories of the slavers, of their hands ripping at his clothes, of a choke collar cutting off his air, triggering blind panic.

Justin pressed his knees together and pushed his free arm against the stranger’s chest, but it did no good. The other was just too heavy. He was pinned under their weight, weeping and cutting himself in his pathetic attempts to struggle. His head swam from his compressed lungs not being able to draw in enough air, and from spending what little he had left on sobs. A border of fuzzy white ate at the borders of his vision, eroding more and more of it. He was going to die. Violated or crushed or tore to bits or all three. All because he hadn’t had enough sense to run when he’d had the chance.

Just as he teetered on the border of unconsciousness, the massive weight was lifted from him. Instinct took over. He sucked in a breath that stretched his chest to capacity and immediately resulted in coughing fit. Even blinded by tears and choking, though, he fought when a hand touched his arm again.

“Justin, it’s me! It’s all right now!”

He stopped. Swiped away water and snot and blood. Stared up at a rather disheveled Fior.

No one would’ve guessed he’d been on the brink of passing out from the way Justin launched himself at her. Throwing his arms around her shoulders, he buried his face in her neck and the green, slightly herbal smell of her hair. She stiffened, but then, with a sigh, relaxed and brought her own arms up to rub soothing circles on his back.

“There, there. What…ah, nevermind, I see. Old Mazyx gave you a good scare, did it? I’ll make it apologize when it comes back to its senses.” Another sigh. “If you could say a haruspex has sense,” she muttered. “It would have to come by when I’m not at home…”

The meaning of her words eluded Justin. All that mattered was she was back, he was safe, and he’d never answer the door alone again.

[strywoven]

@antinomos has requested a story : ❝ you’re just like me. you can’t change who you are. ❞ // Kai @ Kaen hehe

𝑷𝒓𝒐𝒎𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒅.

In their line of work , TALK IS CHEAP ; meaningless , worthless , held no weight in comparison to how well you could a c t .  Kaen always wanted to believe in the better of others ( at least , they tried to ) , but swiftly found a good majority were … PREDICTABLE , at best ( said one thing , did another ; liars , full-up of empty promises & emptier sentiments that took advantage of the doe’s good graces ) .  Kai , however , did not fall so simply into that category.  When he spoke , it felt r e a l .  Rather , more real than anything Kaen had encountered on the outside , surrounded by ritz and glamour and those emptied husks of people gutted-out by their own fame , left to rot as still-smiling corpses parading about in the flash of cameras.

No , Kai was something else entirely.  And when he spoke , it held r e a s o n ; words were not often squandered , not wasted on the frivolity of making to lie or pull punches , he held INTENT & PURPOSE whenever he acknowledged them and that , Kaen realized , was the beginning of their downfall ( the beginning of their misguided loyalty becoming secured ) .  So when it comes to pass that he might say such a thing to them n o w , after having diligently worked alongside him for a little over a few weeks , it leaves them a bit STRUCK & STARTLED .  Kaen often took to heart the idea of being some sort of detached figurehead in the framework of the public ; unreachable , untouchable , and no-one really ever k n e w them ( could not ever really tolerate the ordeal , in truth ) .  Yet they feel his words as if a piercing to their still-burning spirit.  And it is a sudden f e a r which seizes them , a sudden and terrible realization that he likely can SEE THEM AS THEY ARE .

It is like picking at an old , still-open wound , this topic.  The little doe likes to think they’ve a good composure , but sometimes ⸺ ❝ Is that a COMPLIMENT ?  Thinkin’ that I’m like you ? ❞  Can’t help the sardonic quip , can’t suppress the wry tilt to their lips.  But mistake them not , they’re going to take it as a compliment.  Steps hasten , bringing them to walk at his shoulder rather than behind ( a purposeful movement , a testament to their strange balance ) , the redhead giving off a PALPABLE HEAT like a living sunspot.  ❝ Y’know , I think it’s easier t’say WHAT instead of WHO , in this case , ❞ Kaen chuffs softly , shaking their head before adding , ❝ M’father used t’say somethin’ similar , too.  That y’can’t change the nature of a beast , no matter how y’wanna dress it up or how y’wanna try’n domesticate it. ❞  It’s one of the rare times Kaen offers him insight into their person , something they given f r e e l y , speaking to him as if speaking to AN OLD FRIEND ( though we are not so vain to assume such things , are we ? ) .  They lift their head , looking up at him.  ❝ … I didn’t really get what that meant until I met you.  And , t’be honest , I might’ve been upset by who I really was before but- but I don’t think I mind anymore ! ❞

[libidomechanica]

Untitled Composition # 8712

A ballad sequence

               1

—The Grass, and yet, the fruitful South.     A touch of heart from thee? Through that died seven century     dead; but which cannot shed and the dead had peace, but praise, when     we’ve here or these eyes so

suited, and a kiss by you, sir,     to awake all used up for that dreaming rod, my potent     river glade; and the strains may float ’neath master-hands, adore     it, then hell, and die before

the sun’s sight I had a dream     delicious wine doth she then bursts, and I, once a whole heart     had heard no more, save against me proue her strong with the glowing     at such sweet, sweet a

flower as love depend on Fortune’s     shining? Where the world how deep! When blood is nipp’d, and the     moon, to give what we see and the lily’s hue, the blabbing     the case of those nature’s

rais’d, for they look down into a     final aspect. Then die, that on thine, the rat; I know their     great a curse. Blossoms comes this brow, but when obstinate silent     though afraid of angry

power, fairing stops to a     woodland Queen, with forest branches lift above abasement     at the sky, or this generation stir; she cannot     be given of old and

pour to death and warrantize of     skill that, near a caverns for thy silver lute, with all his     power, fairing stops to a woman, tired of an SUV     and I unremark’d seated

in its object findeth not     all grace and merry note, while in the heart high-sorrowful     and such a stun came these? Of life, when the stone asks first day:     seek out some ghost of us,

as I divine strange thing all     night I miss. Lives there, seize on trickling honey-dew from behind.     And are not recording its tenderest pressure, as     the pyre of death, which

the ever dreamed. See, at another     summer’s flowers of thine eyes twinkling eyes: I saw ane     an’ twenty, Tam. I looked, how long prospers, Tis though she and     witch, with that is all sound

my echo of you waking made     of Man—the she disarm’d, and under the glow tells from a     human face turn again. That fends thee safely through they doe     as thought the dog became

china. So prevent of rugged     his gonna be a cocked- hat once lust, life-disquietest proof     such as feede, or love melons and Line, and I thinking what     walls beyond tree of shall

night broad clear; rathere was he call,     and with the tear our life; but the strife, there the God wote, subdueth!     Almost address each other woe than our rhyme: what leaf-     fring’d legend haunts about

it, but it is good, that things around     the slave and rich with iniurie: who since I heedlessly     did lack and a new life into his can you turn around     so i can look into

your day of youth asleep. And     overhead a vaulted, vast, this soft embrace; so nimble feet     as silent that the woodbine leaves. Thou none lovest is most     evident; for when our

life, I shall dance and palely     loitering; thinke of trust! And evening, my life spilt force his     jarring their offices in its den, and that one consuming     their starry seven,

old Atlas’ children still in heaven,     and manna dew; and him grew all those nature of their     chosen one, that my adder’s service; who could scarce avails     the sunny noon; gie me

then bite into the round him grew     all things to peace between her kissing by, and yet once from     the smallest pebbled shore and looked at the stem, to make her     utmost breathless. Into

the right or wrong. Misery is     greatest Gogmagogs, who dazzle us, whom though water     in a grave, is that fester smell far worser far, the     Doth shake him; but the sun.

               2

Delight and Saint awake that four     kids with all the sun and soldiers his widowed names did go,     and thou can call their time

was so enamoured of joy     or stood buy! Death thee into the moonlight line falling breast,     than can the eddying wind.

               3

Stuck in these coming, my own, my     sweet life spilt for a prize so dear. As if death along the     flower salesman i’m on

the sound as here silence like mine,     the kindly dies, in heavenly guide; that our desire     shall things and voices we

are deities will she believed     his day i’ve been a little lower turns and kind, or to     thy sweet; were it earthward

beneath their peer, showing its Ethiop     berries. I wear that which to me, nor sombre chariot     attains is airy goal,

haply some sweets, which for men? All     records, saving love’s first discern’d, we, fix’d so, ever looks     too oft in his slumbers

the glutted Cyclops, what a holy     day, although parents grudge, and the slab: refreshment drowns     itself, performing and

quickly, and where to a spirit     in my swelling in between their sleep. Lawless war are scarce     be right that nurse the real

rain, so vertical light and tremble     underworld; ah me, o my soule fluttering in tune,     by all that thou lovest

is most gentle bosom which steals     into the sea, born long by the purest gold; a belt of     strawberries grow. But ’twas

not love that he may hold upon     the sunny skies. Within him; so, bent low, he had endur’d     would God to me by these

are alone; the answer: There, where     that I shall dwell; only the nettle-briar, cheats us     into the sounds adrift

from sun’s way, that he well night have     dismay’d alecto’s serpents; ravish’d thus, for many a     sail of lone Eternity,—

and sore the morning eagle,     ’twixt whose Minds are not soil thy purple with mealy gold the     world lightning, and leafy

shaw, and silken couch of speech, its     homicidal eye—and away fled every virtue, every     side thing their own! So

softly kist, and die. That the     denial comes again went noiseless stone, unmoved, cold, cold,     and so Adieu. The church,

as the stars that come hither sex,     the bond that widow’d bed sat silent-bare under things rare     sweet life beyond complete

a thing, awakened: then to a     married ear! Gear, was left unlaunch’d and trembling overhead     the Germans were o’ergone,

at last thou hear her and ankles     white and awful package, and that will not giving in the     rash deed. Terrifies me.

               4

And in perfection is decayed?     To welcome that is this, little good, to margin, and past,     for into and fruit, and

then something of thee beds of roses,     and the dead. So nimble feet as still renewing smart.     Or lie in sleep for while

both defy, not wonderful for     sadness; sharpening, by degrees, his appetite to dive into     a spectral bride; that

she lo’es me best can speak the awful     shade us with the world of reasons: it seem’d he flew,     the wall, for ever

cheerfuller? And no more, the bridegroom     looked at the door at eve, and the light reached over the     fingering stems they were alleys

of Paradise. Her bosom     which surrounds her footsteps told, then can make her utmost breathing     her that’s your gentle

tongue says beautiful. Heard melodist,     unwearied, that churl Death my bones with other poem     written with us, brightness,

more near, till with the parents     grudge, and plague her till he found the lily’s hue, then bow downe     my heart to be, then can

make her philters with; by time be     come the lovers did end, and we will silent here. Fiers might     have uncommended died.

               5

Which never die, but if I weep it will come to     bury me deeper, every summer- standing forehead woos? Of man, and thee I both defy,     not with peaceful ornament. To

scud like a salmon, struggling into her through, the     constant stay sets him of another’s service to senseless streams subterranean tease     us out of the lovers gone, whose

silent as the Cupid a boy, and patient—all     for what? More than we who never see; a night and the porch with, Let us look so. While     the marble figures watch his name not

born fair, no beautiful and sudden, hast all bail     shall praise thee for grammers for sweet, sweet self to be remember, an old man say? Though yet,     heavens, nor ever wilt thou that tilted

tiny house by the Orphean lute, with all come     on its ample stores of garnered from Endymion’s ear, now he hastes; so many things     goodly and nights, a sunflower! The

Bliss from the reapen the tear: the no name,—sweets the     barred we are gentle sing, and to chantine, for small ladders, as he why noon’s birth, it is     to which you, breath’d deft, some Ground. At these

rites the virgin light of happy times, no less truth,     truth and Beauty as this the touch of the old man say? From the ground their way. The shepherd     clans: that went last unwound her gentle

sleepy frown glow-worms began to trim their offices?     Why not for thy sake? Unlike are wed? With arrowy smarts, that swoons and then forgot,     nor debar’d from Olympus’ solemn

their surly eyes burnt by cigarettes as she gives     and night forgot, nor debar’d from the fire of love thee oft, I pitied. Come slowly from     sin; but prudence think it has ruffled

ever a-spending; since Ariadne was written     is to disappointment, that mad pursuit? Turn their joyous teats shoots a look back over     his mental slough? Was I in no

wise startled. Daddy? I saw the giant sea above     my heart is like car crashed, the new— born and beat, the breathing-while one hand, one che ches.     And what of the marble gallery,

passing feet, driving, hurrying, but, in all this     was wrought of the lights the jewel-print of your invective scorched the came upon this power,     medicined death is but a little

town by river side outlet then is from a     snowy gleam; sweeter thanked him. My dearest charm—she says, she lovers; and the dog became     the British vermin, the tremulous

shower heal’d up the nectar at the rest of a     wretch auaile whom they heard. Good-morrow took that wretch is he! For all the work of the day,     thy soul. I the sere, and swere slyȝt of

þat burȝe he lenger brought my hart; her com a portion’d,     as fair subject, he cannot she takes above us in place sende to acorded     of houndez þay dele yow forȝelde.

               6

The lips for a boy can’t interpret     the sun shall be new and freshly teem’d with all my low     last breath? The flag stuck in

the subtle food, to make thee why     thou art so unprovident. On a voyage. And this is     our wedding day; low on

thee, wretched wight, had I done to     the last empty teacup, arrived with the Sunne which Loue hie     set doth not a soul towards

him a large eagle, ’twixt whose lady’s     heart with a safety pin to give ourselves who have no     arms or legs. Pleasure and

its diadems; one faint eternal     eventide of us we could dash the wane—and ’tis but     unknown things around us.

Women at least kind-hearted     man, express train, and thus sings he, and keep open my heavy     heart, where Venus leaning

we were by me releeued. Stranger     ay I pitied. There as he was contented day, where     Joan was put to death in

man’s love a bed of tears as salt     as mine, robb’d others, good or dwelling honey-combs of green,     of every male in me?

               7

Half-happy, enviable man!     I will love her till I die. Depend on Fortune’s shining?     The court chemist mixing

her that’s your graces and her dainty     fairness now, circling about the skeleton shall be     only the battlements

that elder love in thee another,     each lush-leav’d rill. Both diffuse, and others, good or dwelling-     place, the bitter cologne.

Those lips, if thou send’st from his     ire. Of good found they return’d whither took than going to     silver lute, while in pride

and awe; till, weary, he sat down,     and go less. Entranced dulness; speak, and loving head of doubt     that have pleasant grass and

curls blown. ’Twas far too strange, the sober     sorceress, while though the nettle, so typical, shower     of knights, a sunflower

is first, and smiles, her uterus     an empty head, who, while with the scent and tyranny     of love that bosom which

the mere sake of trust! And I will     give you a root. And all those are high about the main tree     still he found me here to

a final aspects the jewel-print     of you, as he takes from the learnes in the heart with     immortality of soul!

               8

To eat the last it was my ear:     hushed and daws, to the flood, or blind but in music clash’d in     the bandit’s dead, and awful

wail of lone Eternity,—     and her by the secrecy, and we will bloom most constant     dawn upon? Amid her

comfort, now my shady springs     of talk from the pangs of delights at me, a poor, tired,     how dull is the past

echoing from instruments defaced,—     and great deeds to pry, to find out he strains, and golden seed     in the very pain, when

neither self, for love avail than     thou rove, by wimpling burn and let me lead, a happy love     died: it is only flowers,

the dying at your orange     she sky, or the cold he had been froze to see it from the     smiles, had waned from thee move,

come live out my eyes! Fountain’s side     that, in default of better happen, we’re standing forehead,     and the moonlight line falling

behind you were it earthly     faces. This troubles me: but I placed a wrong myself able     to untie! Depend

on Fortune’s shining sunflower,     that died seven centuries since, and say, thou shalt by fortune     thee sit beneath. But

mine, ’ so I sware to say, whistle     though the pain, ah, what a trembling does usher my joy!     Arsenic, sure, what can ail

thee, wretch forget who I am.     Down sidelong aisles, and warrantize of skill that, near     a cavern there is on

the battlements; but, finding     passages, where she heads of the same feather made banked fires in     babble, merely played but

should, that I do call my low last     breath, why should have been wanderer, holding a little to     fill you can hear my voice,

in thee, and thus sings he: but let     my passion’d wiles, had waned from that whispers of this is he,     that so we can go

together, hung his head, and the light     thee her face and air! Can firmly force his jarring the sky,     yet, I will be its name.

To watch and my bones with cares, and     in haste, is laid. Root pity in the steps above his heart,     I look as looks them down

while she doth lie so in my rhyme.     Not to my ear: hushed and sudden, hast thought,—All labour is     honour, when that men or

gods are shaken with their women     and scudding all my heade, and others of either give thou     canst not leave thee with t.

               9

My spirit to tell me where no     measure; ’bove his twiddling three. Of me and with angels look     as looks them down with thy

silver light, or my lips renunciative     through the meadow and icicles. With a thousand,     that spell affright this

lethargy! But they mourners seem at     such comes in my cheek open. When we do cry. I set her     on my breast. To be seen,

without for men? On deck is dressed     in black, braced for weather and the three forms of Hecate; by     all that far all-seeing

me so dear. But for he came wonder     why in the press; all else, we see day, and a kirtle     embroideries of flowers

running spring, and seeing     vision and whence far off appears and unleashes their exit     await, from far lands

by my diligent springs of     keen remorse, the king, and send thee to take its pool lay, half     asleep I’m ninety and

takes, that oiled barber lays his party-     secret, fool, to the dumb on high to sing invincible     somewhere but i just

don’t know somewhere to give her to     weeds or flowers running still and that only we, but all     is dark around the post,

tired of tears have seen a new     tinge in thee is raisde: it is thine doth always to blacknesse     run, now, sun, look, asks first

time they mourners seem at such a     mournful place of silk and sing you wouldst thus, and can scarcely     lift a golden, or rainbow,

with every male in the goal     of conscious lips do smile; there, in insolent ease the leaves,     nor their way. A wrong myself

thou sprung in desert wild. Not     blame; your breast there was a vintager, so they want to sing     in lifting back again.

               10

Of deities or mortal men,     saving, perhaps, when thou art so gentle streams subterranean     tease their sweet, but

you and you were in your patron;     over the path is a praise from book myche to desire.     Or so did shine, abandoned,

almost, yea, more endeared with     you, tell her, in fair shrinking sound, as she eats betrayal     like and lonely cherish

doth sing in lifting itself in     the touch of Briar Rose but the end of words, or answered     echoes oft tired, how

painfully quivering under-     lip. How lone he was once more re-survey these toying hand     to your warm you-smelling

bed-dent after parting still reade     you will press train passing stood: those friend and make speech, you will     not see thou needs must misse,

and yet, because thou love, what thereby     beauty ever collide? Like to thee doth range, the woodbine     leaves. To them thy mind;

those friends which euer shine on me; for     fame keeps slipping off, arms limp as old carrots, into the     exhaust pipe on oaten

straws, her with berry-juice? Love’s first     time and Eve was long, her foot once planted on me. Though yet,     heavenly powers: there

lay a sleeping jellyfish. Time     flies hovered in for a mortal in the blue of ocean     rolls a length my father’s

pocketbook. Where dost treat it,     remember how soon our marriage is death in the chants of night     till days and now sucks thee,

wretch, in whom all serious     courtesy. It is to disappear so fair, or if it do,     not for the floor’s cold bier.

               11

My lord’s kingly flower heeds not     her poor death were done, without accusing you, carrying,     marrying, marrying,

marrying, but, fond elf, he was     contentment reached over the tree; the little town by river     or sea shore, down on

thy part of chief desire shall     drop its golden mystery, and sacrilege, three sins in     rigid sleep not in some

divine art thou, to whom thine oath     to love me, love me! Not matter Marino Marini     when heav’d anew old ocean

fades upon the gloam with his     hair; another gay: in him the touch it; the ivy mesh,     shading its tenderest

worthy I to be remiss: the     holy and numb his bosom of a heavens, I would you     have caught a vivid lightly

do inherit heaven dying     at you to my hart opprest, there was a shutter loose,—     it screeched! In the wine. The

former, it were still wind shivers     bare and lightning of me. Thus fallen out of this days and     legal ways of all, there

art the gate alone; the floral     pride in a long-cramp’d scroll is in Apollonian curve     of your face ablaze, yearning

to grace, peep for fondness—I     am pain’d, endymion’s ear; first he, far away, away,     the sky, or the water:

how! There was a sounding not only     twelve fairies to the day so fairy-quick, was strange she     sky, or these gleaming flee

to here soil is men grow, whether     intellectual deeps in buoyancy afloat. And yet,     because of the sky, vaunt

in thee a thousand fragrant in     the meadow your voice by heart most unrest; that one storm, the     ruth, the brightness, more than

that time, and after, straight in front     of it in the world goes by and though I die thirsting. The     lake’s surface-eyes we ply

the sea, that the sisterhood. From     blossoms came down, down, uncertain to what you yourself may     privilege your hands, turn

their grandsires’ thighs, thick myrtle     branches, ’gainst the sky, yet, I will hurry by in trance girl     is yours to worry him.

               12

Give rest, or quiet in the stone     with thee remain with many a crowd of workmen and scudding     along a weary

limbs, and calm, and beat, and completed.     I know not what. There is not so; but I hear; ’ and so     Adieu. Its high remember

how those vapours which snares his     fancy: lo! Your voice my heart, Belovëd, I at last, with     your mutter’d pigeons and

then one Sunday after than mine.     I will give thou call curses upon thy choysest Art, so     am I us’d by his

while stand anxious: see! The uncertainty     and howl, and compare the blood replenish’d bride in     thee, that thou shoulders, warm

firstling, to renew embowered     high, beginning wheel and there lay a sleeping eye in     all the gold-eyed serpent

dwelling. A film of hope and all,     comes nectar at the preceding two angels look at each     door believe when they never

thanked him. Or durst inhabit     on a day, and yet in vain; and this withers even the     day care to go so you

can hear me and what green on     Marlborough Street, and hath set us young flame—o let me live     with mystery,—and ’tis

but a little, perhaps her love     was on the surf biting the shade. Love in store, to show false     borrow’d face, those friends joy,

foes grief of her hand: which makes seen,     the bonie face, and bring for ane an’ twenty, Tam. Do not, O     doe not, from here on earth:

their wings. Swift, mad, fantastic roof,     of those soft shadowy queen went even in toil; another     gloomy arch. Reminiscent

of thy disparted, and     thou, silently. Thy remember through a hazy wood, I     saw pale kings, and to your

hand, a long whose falls melodious     birds sing. And he in loud access of shrieking and loudly,     as he would she led!

               13

That far aloof cathedrals call’d.     In hell they took a window light. How cold is that bless your     name in that not say, when my leaping heart should a foolish     marriage vow, which long absence from the edge. But if you laugh     when women play upon

that they share, that this strange beside!     A sign! Bloody earth, which its own dead. To critic and to     and come to love that there is none that draws breathe a sugred     bliss. Lovers pains; and like a child to gladden thee; how small     bed to see the princely

Heart! Tiny house by this still and     these poor sob doth pine, one kiss brings desire. With lots of     tape delays and nights be term’d a poet’s rage and she’d never     see; a night were by me releeued. Them told. ’ Darling     essences, once hand on glass

and here we slumbering of these     wakeful eyes may weep, but never a quiet luxury     was in his shepherd swains shall we thy lasing powre dicerne.     And so much for such man’s love! Here must be surely, some     kind heart that brutal place?

               14

Nor passion’d moan had more been heard.     When old age black and shin’st, as is a dunce—perhaps, some swart     abysm I throw all care

of the world let’s prove, that every     thing else saw all day long; for since I beheld my sunflower,     to welcome the wine.

               15

She is standing forth his spear; but     at the sun. Vainly express grief for thus sings that brings honey-     dew from buried. ’Mong

shepherd vest, and the playful rout     of Cupids watching his veil’d eye down sidelong aisles,     and shrieking and revel

and with the sedge is withered from     the time in silence, where shall roll, too many flowers. It’s     in the hemisphere; by

dews and dry. They doe as the world     except once I freeze and flimmering singer would o’erleap     his destiny, alert

he strains in killing up, and face     hid in muffling to San Sebastian partly because     she lo’es me best of a’.

               16

Partly because of the deeper.     Subways there is a flowers felt his pretty ankle is     a lady Godes moder be. Too keen in beauty still     he fountaineer! Fell with this gentle closure of meat. Fairest     creatures we desir’d,

and thus sings the sun’s sight can be     seen! Infected by the thing the world how deep! Go, get you     hence, gilded cheat! Just into metal and therefore so ashamed?     Knot so that thou starv’d on the rough buried paths, embellish’d     porticos of awful

package, and breath, and why a     boy was her exultation: but, Alas! But the ghost of     us, as I guess; and anon, uprose too, down over     his moder was as dew in aprylle, þat fallyt on     þe gras.—A merry and

glad remains. In crushing low! A     goat stirs with iniurie: who since she does precipitate, while     greasy Joan doth keel the post, tired of the deadening ether     to a dive! With stubborn stream, we lay in early and     rose that lately kissed Briar

Rose and unto a forested?     Lost with the Sunne, When look’d the tall, dried grasses a goat     stirs with never happier St. The rose in one speech of     space and all her blue orbs! And polish’d porticos of awful     wail of prison’d? Going

to richness from every tear     was born of diverse passion; but prudence think about as     in crushing, and nothing streamlet o’er these tender hoverings     over the first of blessing, but, forget who I am.     Great sculpture the main

to scud like a shotgun. With gages     from Thames his dignity: for she protests to heaven,     and high-favouring donor presenteth nought; and still ride     on, we two may interchange each in this cannot be wholly,     but till well night I

am duped. And he turned into     the prophet’s ass began to speak for memories anyway,     so bereft! That due of many now is at my table,     circled around just for me: long I will do none, that     there for me! To fainting

bees to the Indians scorched wight,     alone in the courtiers, they heard Stay, see them i want     to take a fancied city of soul! Too many eyes, and     in your passing feet, driving, hurrying, marrying,     burying, clamour and red.

Yet poortith a’ I could sing a     faery’s child; her hair was long and flutes: it is like since all,     my life hath its food serene Cupid with some monstrous roof     curves hugely: now, as deep profound as those days are vast and     great, O love was love henceforth

where its picture, give your teeth     much leprosy. Ill, that press at its feature—auld Nature     stores of truth; as ’tis kept secretest. For they in skin of     Phoebus lighten’d just maybe you can make him; but thou to     repair should sublime than

ours, a friend to make a lasting     troth. Making all things rare now, sun, look, on the light of this     dry palate would hear the lie to my soul deceives its     powerful, these are high, descent; and another kind of     voyage done! When this pious

talk. This pretty spies, could in     the world rush’d: then all my lord’s kingly sunflower, we’ll measure     and linger on her idiot lyre; and I love the     sun, o’er many a sail of prison’d absence he hath, by     Nature declar’d that fairest

nook, and flower star-shine to     our former chroniclers. How much easier grow: we are     riding Alexandria was, straight in themselves thievish     for a century dead; but chiefly the steel-mirror of     her breasts, and forth between,

above abasement at their     woe, that poison our marriage, the constantly? Each check, with     glad moning, passed those roses grew forming a greater name     and what we felt only; you expressive love. Uplift thee;     let that thy whole hearth grew

strong in their woe, that come and i     would fathoming plums ready to snort their sun. Twain shoulder     and for ever pour’d into my bosom of a heavy     eyelids to the life or death, O Love, the music from the     boy at the planet in

the time, and flower turns and this     the tree; the schooles where been alone. That all a summer     has forth, to do the sedge is with her eyes are the knot. And     hear my voice, oh think it has every nested young: but all     ornament, itself out,

a long-cramp’d scroll freshening sluice! The     hollow silent. Alright it’s gonna be alright it’s gonna     be alright it’s gonna be alright it’s gonna be     alright it’s gonna be alright it would do nae mair: hers     are the golden keel’d, is

left me, and dared?—The holy bower,     trailing air will gulph he wept, and a Hierome, by the     Muses; then the spur of the time in the touches in thee,     my sunflower for very strange; they do grow, I     Through winding course, from me?

               17

Has he was journey on he hies     dazzled to the bend in thought the deep caverns for the keepe     no men abide, the scope

and then to star star cadencing     aright. How soon our marriage vow, which bore my love, why have     come into his own gray

with something dreary cavern there     flutters to mortal, sounds again he caught he, how long must     see, with deep-drawn sighs was

quiet smiles white? Love make life or     death and my brain, without the rose is blind Orion hungry     sands. Tis sometimes of

the dead, tis under truest bars     to this planet in that men or gods are so strong in tune,     by all the air; yet wait

a sign! Vast and griesly gapes,     black polished as leather, down over his mental statue     of stone—and away fled

ever an endless sleeping     jellyfish. For the burning in the harvest’s done. After the     lily’s hue, then, quickly,

and sacrilege, three Hesperean;     to his noble though death had come to light of love between,     above my husbandship.

               18

To melt this stranger, you turn around     the world anyone ever lived, the other, like     deliciously; so wound through

my kneecap and I hate feeling     about Pomona: here in your elastic case, blind-hitting     lantern, through it soar’d,

and, after death, from me far off,     with unusual gladness: awfully, the young, the instant     dawn upon? Which calls all

creatures speciall grace, rose Aylmer,     all went well except once made eternal hopes, how more than     at the roses were warm,

he’d call, and seeming skin. Which from     upper day thou couldst with mine eyes so suited, and mirror     of her legs’ sincerity:

and rather make hot fire. The     dead, the rusty nails and fields are the amorous thrush’s song.     Talks o’ rank and foolish

self! Her footsteps; no one can stick     in his exile; where, ’mid exuberant green, do boast the     marble being: now, as

deep profound as those friend, and had     touch’d his forehead woos? But mine, ’ so I sware to tell, but one     muse’s smile, lest having

thine, the trees, in times far away,     the sun? Yet, I will to be set free, nor can my flames; but     for Germany.—White bone.

               19

Drying in the pain, ah, what a     trembling does usher my joy! And sing we would love me! And     dipp’d in love away. For

she knows, it is good to feel you     there! Our court beside, and striving drift and thee. Since now to     the river of the pleasure

the flowers. No one’s fated     or doome the real rain, so vertical it fuses with shoulder     at O lonesome me.

               20

For pity’s sake, give you a root.     Without all is their toothed maws, their scarlet ornament of     thy foolish self! To her,

great king, glad life should keep open     my heavy hand on glass and each night he learne; thinke of my     breathe one breathing to sigh

for, or to doff thy shepherd blows     his nested young: but all were crucified. The ocean’s moanings     had burst from these sorry

pages; the bridegroom came forth,     to do the sand and fellowship in these: the loves in all     those experience which

for me! A naked waist: Fair Cupid,     when sweet evil unto her entrancements warm starfish.     As if crooning course.

               21

Further, I must not vain: I and my final end,     marriage temple is; though even in sleep: the day of empire and linger’d—joy and     feasts, and praises from me far off, with

sweete success. It must such a fire, O heart, Belovëd,     have no peace in wild forest old; and that I have your warm and grief. As they in the     Frick which in mists to hide his heart of

me and I said that I were rippling round my soul     of bubbling pride demurs when passion; but the rouge lately glisten’d, but from shore of torment     spar’d, would show: sorrow after death?—

Now thou shalt thou to reply: she is hostess, I     am blind. Yes, even it, purple- pillow’d with her eyebrows of the river. Hers are     shall out on this huge stage present nor

the float of Thetis. But, when new wonder why in     the wall. Pigeons and where was borne a voice, oh thinking; there is withered from deafening sky.     Is it thy will their sleep. Blackening sluice!

               22

There is not meant for music’s cage,     whose ioyes, whose lessons new thou needs must strives its own dead. In     through the different and

tyranny of love: too long time is     at hand and blossoms scent the maggot born fair, no beautiful.     He turn’d a rhyme? And

my heart by heart of time that is     old, and with anguish moist and gray, the roses heard to make     more or less truth beauty’s

rosebud garden of girls, Whilst thou     triumph’st and gracefu’ air; ilk features, take her now; tis true,     the tropics, to arrest

without her with the traditional     South. In muffling to see the holly’s sheen, that claims     of it thence at all, but

mine, the tree; the silly bogles,     wealth, where Venus leant she and I. On her face. King of     creatures, still unravish’d

thus, one knows well who do rudely     move him, and wear tubes like to a dew, fell sleek about me     the British vermin, the

bed. In her discern’d, we, fix’d so,     ever since he died and high fantastic round her comfort,     now my great deep being!

               23

But far from such comes soothingly     o’er-arching till ioy makes me oft my bed, circling their toothed     maws, their images I

love to any, who for the portrait     show seems they came all the golden age ’mong shepherd clans:     that will be together

in a grave, is that not sleeper?     Blushes: yet mutter’d, the next year all pumpkins! With common     fate of a wretched and

exorcised. Renewed, say, after     parting for the body’s mask of the deepness of a     desperate lovers know.

               24

In an ancient mansion’s crannies     and born of the roadside, succulent peaches we boughs, from     whence here might charm the finest

wool, which vulgar scandal stamp’d     upon me dead. And crimson mouth, for ever panting glow     grew still for the silks. Ah,

’tis the chains across the world of     thine own will, full well night knows my lord the fainting at the     rose, where she sky, or there,

betray how she knows, when blood made     ye white and ten thou yield’st to me, and yellow leaf drifting     itself in the west, made

jealousy? Moving, rapid,     merciless—breaks like a feast; bold Lover, never sounding green     leaves and brain went to sleep.

               25

Hath left me, and say, after tary, the lone     woodcutter; and light in front death to a lyre, touch’d earthly faces.—An’ O for ane an’ twenty,     Tam! I desperate beam, and slow

time, and seating o’er enormous chasms, where to go     alone and fling his paces back into the same: the eagle landed him, and forget     his woe-worn minute’s space, the king of

the thousand, that hideous torment spar’d, would start     and thankful heart, and wood, that dreams, and far upward to think the back of your feet—too boiled     and dark, let us fly these pleasant

name! Dying swells with suddenly than think of slurry     season of this new-born things and bracelets too, and fragrant in the morning with the     unaccomplished from their pinion

in revere:—by stirring up a cypress sprig     thereto, With a thought controls the burden of girls, then guiding hands and long by the gate     alone. Holds in perfection is the

past, for that. ’ Twenty, Tam! A king have sufficed, but     if such gifts as mine eye as interbreath’d, came mothers love unto the sacrifice? Or     for thyself thy face, then, flying sun.

               26

Where we turn to yonder girl that     can see the table set and a private affair within     my brow; for what is the

pale light and then not understood     and bracelets too, and forth between ye; yet poortith a’ I     could fly with turrets crown’d.

               27

With the unshapeliest, meanest     lump of clay, with her love will tak my part, the amorous     thrush’s song. The tan of brutes,

would God to me the kindling     lustre of an air odorous and wheedle a world has     done to the roadside,

succulent peaches we bought from that     does not when December blights my woes for the parents taught     thee oft, I pitied be.

               28

Slave, an awful package, and in     the cold splintering, thou wilt be gone away, and even     weep to think upon, to

give a green footsteps; no one can     taste it, nor dost waste in niggarding. Fair Pastorella     in the waters clear vanish’d

bliss here sone chewing a star     and restlessness of a large and yellow hue and gray, and—     in the weekday weather

and sing, and did make a show, as     deep maw he rush’d by on either side outlet, fathoming     plummet down your rayes! And

out the lake, bold Lover, never     in the color is brilliant, a gang war wrapped&cut diagonal     at the dog became

these, but a voyage. Like old     Deucalion mountains, so that used to wow me and who will     climb, in the staring-owl,

now, sun, at our entreaty stay!     From my sad bed of some monstrous roof curves hugely: now, far     in the hand, and, just prove

as lordly and lay her in part     ’tis his, after long time doth with liquid through it scar’d! And     see what the youngest of

day: these tender as delicious.     Has come that she that matter, and your lovely pallor which     time shall care of others

might, and now it’s dead when to heaven     seem best? That which hides your bonnet brave, i’ll seek him in     your parts of me to thee.

               29

For some kind hear he lov’d some fair immortal charms.     Sent me by my auntie, Tam; but, finding could fain find and blue and fling thy purple chequer,     nor the floor, that their languish. To

mortal tear-drops down the night-wandering sun, for     love doth tread, with all come one day may bring him, somewhere there for a century dead; from     me again. But, hear’st thou this beside,

as the fathers all the portraits in the dew. Loves,     Graces, in the Carian’s nose looks them down while greasy Joan doth a moment, here am     I deified. I am on the

bitter tale of Launcelot on a day, and all     love her graces graced be; thou could weep, it could sip the cream of light was a thing which thank     heaven, and goodly and lawless way,

that lived and dry. That one stroke, may do and down and     then the dazed eyes as whether he cameras want to see how each others but strains may float     ’neath master of a darker hue,

bewitchingly the strings, with no stones I els would thine     alone. Thus breathe and I. That hast thou overcomest so, because I love Frankenstein!     In backward yawns. Unhappy Arethusa!

Delights to perfection meet, though much, is     not signal loneliness in disguise, and a prince, what pleasure of though the gloam with wide     eye he wonders ceas’d to flatt’ry so

listens mute in an ancient mansion’s thine, come cool     it among the grave where I dream a little here together if i could be wroth to     spoil his soul will ’scape us—O

felicity! Ah, what treasurer, give rest, or quiet     after death? Have thy garland great, O love with you that this line some snow-light can be     desert, I am not a flowers,

and poesy. You will not fly from the smallest pebble-     floor, that our entreaty stay! Just so much of heaven seem best? Till she be dead. While     falling; recall not ask a kiss, I

dare to say, is this, I cannot be. And be my     love in me? Old ocean rising day; low on the Abbey-stones. Alone in the other     life’s dearer than to be marke of Cupids

watch his sleep awhile we never a March-wind     sighed deep, great sculpture the answer, ’ I said that, absorb’d in it, he saw this cool as aspen     leaves thee alive and the white arm,

and frantic-mad with your muttered their great self, as     I divine! Lilies and faces going to beare coles of thee beds of roses, and     As if death, I would tell her blue orbs!

               30

Yet, alas, he finds her dead. ’Twas     a city from Greenwich hither side, as they first day: seek     out some few hours the

carefully laid back down men’s love! You     will; to you, put out my hand on the worth of beauty shoulders,     made jealous miserable

strifes, murmurings, with none, but     a world may end to-night? Just for you but you know where thou     love in me, more worth of

human words—Ah, have I invoked     thee. At first infused with the night. Our souls! To bury me     deeper, mellowing the

choice between an infant’s steps: great     self, who straight in front death in the planets rotating in     uncertain to what you

mean! Much leprosy. On silence     like a rocket, which soft ravishment. ’Er their offices?     And all ye offspring the

grave where your love of meat. And are     nothing evil I have been heard. And so, you grown with a     safety pin to give a

dole of bread, a purse, a heart from     me far off, with never love and ringing O darling     essences, beauty, for that

does not what. At last night her gilded     bed-posts shine, strife. You, I engraft you new. Leading vine     creeper, ever should have

caught he, how long-needy Fame doth     euen grows, fairer lodged than gentleness, and of hideous     torments there is manna

dew; and his capable ears silence     fell with light the devils with a safety pin to give     a greater, as yet, that

themselves so, another; for all     those ears silence, and the preceding two angels look so.     Are yet determin’d to

them of kind, and the wheels go over     my heart from clouds, to whose Minds are shuttled over with     change your very souls, we

feel amain the close my hair uptying     with feverous fingers cool and lady-smocks all silver     bow and onely

annoy. It seems the upbursting     cold: a wild rose-briar, friendship and dost advance as high     remember how thou didst

thou be denied! Or purplish,     vermilion-tail’d, or finn’d with eyes of pride! With golden, or rainbow-     sided, or purplish,

vermilion-tail’d, or finn’d with this     generation waste, the bridegroom meets that beats, a family-     likeness to it must surely,

some sudden fell those tinctures     than she is, the surgeon’s carefully as the marble floor’s     cold bier. The visions of

thee to be remiss: the hole in     my leaves of mortals, or of both, give rest, or quiet to     my scalp and my yong soul.

               31

Your love-sick queen athwart, and beat,     are yet determin’d to thee. I have a bliss to discover     in her eyes brow-hidden,

hast all they, but mend thee. Vexing     constellation, humming tone came louder, and say, after     long to make hot fire.

               32

Such play as this the villagers.     But the while beneath their mother Cybele! Ye who have     made me a smile, lest having

thine, the utmost breath that they     want to sing and given grace and meanwhile I clasp thee that     mad pursuit? In trance, into

a bee, and thou wouldst be, if     Loue learne; thinke of trust! His dream a little dream there was a     nymph uprisen o’er chaos:

and the coale in the last ride     with me. Heal’d up the nectars— alights, and like the eyes light,     the pathos with the

impatient stay, tracing fancied city     of delicate, as the Cupid is sword to one white     and tenor of thee. And

we whose dalyings, without a sun     thy vision and where sleeping, turning Contempt shall this while     stand anxious fears question

that doth bereave my soul deceives     its powerful, these wakeful eyes may weep, but never     can renew the chains

were built. To get the skeleton     shall not matter,—and you, w’are met, and purple with savage     glare, where Joan was put to

death in thee; let thee breeds vexing     Mars had chosen one, that living flower made fruit of work,     not one this, I might never

spells; yes, every part was contend     one moment, here at the sky: sae warming, sae charming,     her pretty ankle is

a spy, betraying his weary     limbs, bathing that dream and I am but half-dead; there thine     own bright eyes? At dinner,

she is hostess, I am told.     For, fails, since Ariadne was a cruel snare in a shower     of blossoms comes this

state; but with me. Except once on     a flea-ridden day when her kissing by, and purblind amid     foggy, midnight we

are our selves, so far beyond, a     garden lake I stood, For ever new; more happy eyes were     wreathed green. Do you know

my shames and rose the golden shields,     far-piercing pawes as spoyle when I perceive myself     respect, that they may richly

feast until we taste it, nor     prest cool grass, nor hill-flower as love henceforth thee, that all     a summer has forth, to

do their fruit. And all I dare to     say, whistle a little thing all night knows in heart, I     ‘Tis even can make known.

               33

As Angels, muse, to seek to have     taste the lords and out the garden where silence like the peach,     or ripe October’s faded

marigolds, fell sleek about     as in a bar-room around things that lived under the while     with such a season is

good to feel you think the back the     river, get the shrinking sound—he stept upon that thou by     praise thee for grammer who

sat at my winding course, from sweet,     and ’gan to enclose his diamond, set to fray old darkness     from thee? Tracing fantastic

figures with touch most delicate     and reproach. A feast; When look’d the judgement of thy     jealousy, with newer might

to me are not her, for only     I saw my good does not what. Into something, nay tis my     head; not let any man

thereof nourish languid mazes     overgone, at last their ghost-towns, almost fear the linnet’s     not a man was as vague

as solitary felt assur’d     of happy melodist, unwearied, and keep their leaves. For     grammer sayes, to grammers

for the temple is; though the world     that shone again. And point out my love: too long, though to itself     it only we, but

it is a praise from a snowy     gleam; sweeter; therefore may I not be ever in their sleeping     jellyfish. For when

our autumn blush; and virgin-white,     by this summer breeze of morning on myself with the evening,     my swelling-place, her

eye, as at once: for who can fear     too many flowery nunnery; by silently approach’d;     oft turning Contempt

shall I thee? Touch it; the ivy     mesh, shading its good-bye down whelp to crave, being youth of     fondest beauty only

so are needful at the grave where     sameness breeds my delighted breathe my poison on thy guide;     that our destiny, alert

he stray’d half seeing himself     had done it already; that thou to her. Of noises far     aloof cathedrals call’d.

               34

—An’ O for ane an’ twenty, Tam!     Has no eye for memories anyway it’s in the ring,     and what can see nought earth,

when this flea, and mad, when beauty     in their stream. All breath, a flowery nunnery; by silent     as their rents. Forming

and restless love, tenderly unclos’d,     by tender feet, and the clear; and onely annoy.     It is the one breath, why

shouldst hunger so after death, O     Love, and shadow of death, which the echoes away. And does     not soil thy purple grapes

and the cargo and thy bidding,     I do not do them when that is that bosom shook with airs     deliciously. Had a

fourth time shall not giving in thrall!     Thou that pink snapper and my discourse as madmen’s are, at     random from the impatiently

sat down, uncertainty     and she woke up crying: Daddy! Would so abide? Tell her     loudly call for the twelfth

fairy had a christening for that     beats, a family-likeness to its separate self, in the verge     of the kindling and records,

saving the church hath made trothplight     dream and I said to the door, my friend to man. I’d     say every tree, mocks married

ear! In human passion; when     every vulgar thief. This little, perhaps, whence far off, with     other. The ruby niplet

of her tremendous tear hath     dearth of human kind. With window light. ’ And the slave o’t;     robert Burns: fie on silence

like those have done no work but     the coale in the Frick which I blessed shall dart on his prey, which     doth emulation slow,

that hadst a pain like the sun she     lo’es me best of the alphabet, Logos appear, than the     leaves, nor could content, happy

eyes as whether thick films and     shadow of death. Night; and either can those friend of     ”—“Now thou sprung in deserts?

               35

But if you cleave they hurried change     she eats betray how she repays my passionless; that dies     with the place, this fears question

that tilted tiny house by     the Muses; then they never wanted anything but this     tries and thee, the passion’s

thine eyes most lowe, I crau’d the earth,     and a silvery heads of a thousand, that would you haven’t     gone to thee, wretch’s knife,

too base touches in the old man     of seventy-three I lay with his bow; his quieting,     he went into the peach,

or ripe October’s faded     marigolds, fell down the same dark looking on my breast there, dear!     And lay her in amaze:

the bloody earthly worth nor for     the rash deed. Is that not sleeper? So that such a fire, into     the spoons and kiss their

wings over my bed there was a     soundless sleepy eyes amid the Spring in all hearts, which     long ago was made, oblige

us to each maid that all     mean, poet? She found her sweet content, happy, enviable     man! Of trials, to whom

my being sips such darlin’ darlin’     darlin’. In sacred custom, that drop adown that loves     tip with newer might one

long I will her loving thine, the     past, and more been to her. And griefs united two, will last     the sky, and left there, dear!

               36

While they are these coming and quiet? Circled around     the unmilked weight of sepulchres, were soon alive: for if you laugh when we do     cry. Torments there under the boy Jupiter: and her eye, and shuns to haue had force along     whose cool it among those ears silence came heavily again, feeling, to miss the     kernel of his lyre; there was never

in that there, or, like dolphin tumults, whence we wear     fetters whose wings, streight wraps me in his night: the great a curse to read the traditional     South. To make themselves to gaine, by this sweet life beyond complete and a’ the lave o’t;     robert Burns: fie on silence like a salmon, struggles, far beyond, on light of the general     gladness: awfully he standing,

she and loops, a good shoes as well as any other     poem written is to die with, hand in hand, never, I aver, since Ariadne     was on the middle air, the physician, blabbing the casual solitude. How each     others but stewards of this dry palate would do nae mair: hers are these, but mingled up;     a gleaming melancholy, so bereft!

The warld’s wealth, when our autumn cometh, as it     cannot be. Say thou art, with coral clasps and ever and then not understand that all     my love anyone. Your love is but strains may float ’neath may die, but Love into the     Indian graveyard, lie down on you, near and nights thy brow he still I die. In a case of     his fairy journey homeward to bed;

shut fast to me the flat, wet gold of the time, and     like any other until into the darkness, my dear Lady, let me then bite into     the rough brows of these coming of life to tell me where we mighty Poets is made     nullity! There we ride, in fine. From whence at pleasure of their surly eyes burnt by     cigarettes, her with Time for love doth range,

the breath, and if you have thee with unusual gladness:     awfully, the youth to mine! As the freshening silent that I can give? Wants to be     beleeued. And wounded on sinful loving the grandees! Go, lovelorn, lay sorrows come     with slow, languid paces, and fairest euer; stella hath refuse to light tiptoe, fain to     what you yourself, the black bat, night, has

dared to the morning, sir, to awake all us     colored boys. At you than all; from thee. As at once I freeze, I freeze and fear! Love in such     a race to my greedy licorous sences, once hand on to the milkweeds’ honey     terrifies me. As though we were nowhere in thy lips to thee his nectar at the world’s eldest     dead, and know that his embrace had

zoned her that same feathers all things when it grows holds     in perceive myself respect, that is old, and more than we who never can those have left     of me and I am beautiful the mouth to these may know all tendrils green, I roam     in pleasant ayres of garnered from Sol’s temperate now at lengthened wave to the secrecy,     and without the chains were zombies.

               37

—So kissed Briar Rose and found her     scourge, succour of lies; who his own great ships and eyes have seen     a new tinge in her eyes

run liquid broidered all without     her wind, which bore my Peggy’s form, the fruitful from the     shade. Nothing but love, silent

here. That is so profound as     those have sufficed, but is profaned the clover-sward, as     in cruelty, do not,

O doe not, from expense; they are     them i want to sleep. Now that I have dismay’d alecto’s     serpent dwelling how to

entice her tongue was tired of     thee. His noble though its spectacles and the dawn. My fears,     that lightsome dawn that keeps

virtue hate, hath filled, with should by     time that leave and love, ye wrack my peace in passing. Great Dian,     who cannot tell my

sight, for ever press these delight     was quite awrie, to the dull angry lightning of things goodly     and rose, The bride in my

sweets, at sunny skies. And after,     straight like a child to gladden thee; how small a particularly     heaven seem best?

               38

Of yet another gloomy arch.     But Love is but as the light and fear! Sundays too my father     pat me frae his door, or were blue, autumn, yes, winter     was indeed. But grammer- rules, O now your wofull Maisters     and this, and fashions end!

And hey, sweeter; therefore delay,     young traveller, in such a deuil wants to banishments more     than we would o’erleap his destiny, alert he stranger     ay I pitie now the season is passion. Is it kind of     worms, my body being

dead, trod under a vile physician     to my great deep being! Cypress sprig thereto, With     a tear, and me, giving to go so you can hear my voice,     he had been a girl, for all the wild rose-briar, friends they     heard. With insufficiency

my heade, and shadow of my     breast lie down into the body’s mask of the likeness of     body is most gentle pair, and shows the marriage-bed, be     kept alive, which steals into eyes, and in your eyes run liquid     broideries of flower-

time in silence with their ghost-     towns, almost address each other now; tis true, despite of     view in the other now; for should by time be come to pass     as for a map doth Nature store, that he were shorn away,     as if, athirst with thy

sweet life should have been heard. I look     at the tableau intact. The latest dreaming melancholy;     a dusky empire and light and trembling knees like     the Atlantic Ocean on my heart draws breath in the weary     minstrelsy. Falsehood,

in striving thine, night forgotten     clear, vanish’d, still read, his forehead. Hid from Endymion’s clasped     hands of falsehood, in sure wards of truth; as ’tis a ditty     not of thee: the lyre to searching twa laughing dreary cavern     there little thine. Where

thou art, within the world’s wealth, when     all aloud the wild-briar bloom most constant dawn upon     the confusion worse, perversity unties of myrtle     crown. And more or less takes from another’s hand, laid on Hampstead.     Dissuade one foolish

heart beguiles my heade, and others’     beds’ revenues of the evening-star’s at once over     against an endless pleasure and her that lived and lo! How     careful silent though against an endless prison. Was music     from the sheer witness

of a darker hue, bewitchingly     to every friendship and dost advance as high as learning     moves, to their should not scoured their glad parentage of     journals thou survive my husband and my mind! Under     “Tu-who; tu-whit, tu-who!

               39

He woos his artless dearie; the silly     rose-wreath now and deck the shade. The ignoble nature’s     chime, Wherefore me:

persecuting fate! What need to know.     Since Ariadne was wrought; and all express tu-who; tu-     whit, tu-who! Best, with eyes

most gentle closure of torment     spar’d, would seem a cuckoo- strain comes to the wild-briar is     sweet ane an’ twenty, Tam!

               40

Saw them my hopeless grief of hers,     the close above the sun, and we will shade, out of the brain;     yet, in our Love. At which

it contagious game: hiding thee,     that even bury a man; and thee for my Jeanie. Have     added be, at her lips

my Nectar drinking. In the same,—     and thine own bright sun, at our entreaty stay! Passed thy nail     in blood made of chaos.

Will be on your though water in     amaze: the lyre to seas Ionian and Tyrian. To wild     uncertain kind behest, there

she does deny, ah, what can ail     thee, I obtain from rose- coloured to strike in: I can conceive;     and this ride. Who knows

well nigh fear’d to see the knights be     term’d a poet’s rage and yellow ledge holding a little     things to brood on with dust

shall my low last breeding, while greasy     Joan doth keel the prophecy given as my life hath     put on nature of meat.

               41

With coral clasps and even more     fun than got a fall; the while another self, who stand is,     and the fresh each hand hath been to hear: O let me love! Spirit     that they both are old, our wood, that not sleep without a     sun thy visions that draws

breath, and is lost in that when first     of blessings interbreath’d he to himself along the ground     of dancing so you can hear me and beat, had I been now     if the gusty deep. Can it be quick and forget his work,     not one things to Love while.

               42

As my youth: but the might appal!     Is it kind of waking! A marble, we’ll measure have, life’s     dearest! The wind,—and now there’s the luminous passages,     where we two made it an oath. That tend thy dear virtue,     every side they happen

in our light; thou canst not further     graunt to me too such a deuil wants to be identified     by what you mean! Wish I knew. Comes nectar’d clouds, to whom thine     heart-beat go astray from her dressings of a valley, the     boy at the sparry hollows

thee, yet renounce thee whispering     for ane an’ twenty, Tam! Who can reach. Stella, whom, O     heart, I looked forward. Streams adown a solitary felt     a hurried in, rubbing the sweet, but this enjoys before     the amazement, that, self-

murder added be, fearing them     thy mind; those same feathers that still my heart henceforth where Venus     hath left me, and light and doat. Though I was trying to the     soft caressing more near, till our species, in times like to     desire my sight? The

king of this sweet ane an’ twenty,     Tam! The latest dreams. And send them now for your thought he, how     lone he was journey homeward fever dew; and so he kept     toward them not; their sister- tunes from a sunflower!—All dimly     fades into the harvest’s

done. Taught thee to the blanching,     vertical it fuses with her that doubt’s pain cry, Speak once     more, that tongue says beauty lived under thrill, though shadowy     queen did weep over his sullen eyes: I saw ane an’ twenty,     Tam. Ah, what it is

good, to march in ranks of beauty,—     that is this, from his thigh lay dormant, mov’d convuls’d and gray     yearning moves, but let my passion’d moan had more than think upon,     and said: My child, favour this cool wonders to thee; that     one ever pursued, they

had learn’d new change; whether, breathless.     He did so, stiller world let’s prove may read in though afraid     to me the king and flutter’d, through these may know all those vision,     is dark as night, nor night. Their names upon a misty,     jutting heart henceforth thee

how to mine! Part of time, which hides     your back. And this mock-cold hear he lov’d some fair woman, and     sense. That thou not be beloved of the world speaking within     the way so easy was; and like one prepared to the     tear comes ane an’ twenty,

Tam; but that this is my sin, ground     there: each tender as delicious. Alone, in words between     ye; yet this mock-cold hear the bounties the bowl I offered     up. In heart, and of hideous torment’s filling for ane     an’ twenty, Tam!—Nor in

one spot alone in great Athenian     admiral’s master- hands, and long since he had been     froze to see how each other. I should have been opened and     violets upon a dulling page music to my love: for     love of meat. Stay, thou survive

my well-content; a simplesse     meerely? In all unworthiness of his woe; what promise     hast thou bear’st thou dost hear me and merry note, while every-     dayness of the heads; unwrapping until only a     memory of day: these

tenderness, full of sunshine too,     down whose infrequent smile can warm earth’s greatest throne, and     overhead a vaulted, vast, o’er studs; and makes me sin awards     me pain. It is, to thee it feel anon the soul of many     now is thine doth lie,

made fiercer wonders ceas’d to and     freshly teem’d with the echoes of Troilus and kind, or were     affair within us. And pour to death—most like a tree     breath of heart by heart most unlike, every day, and who can     fear too many eyes, which

surrounds her foot out of prison     cup, no penance. To love had been a-toying, and shovel     dirt on her idiot lyre; there’s many a soundless     prison! His ear, now holy church, as the chilly sheen of     icy pinnacles, and

dark, let us know what this misty     spray, a copious springs! And who succeeds? Are glowing     hot. Dost thou canst thou kissed through a dim passages, where     this the cold, cold as dew, impetuous as rain, the thoughts are     mutual Victims laid,

that mine eye awake; mine own brightness,     my impassion is the pyre of death? That same     Adonis’ shoulder and my breast in the last few steps, before.     Mouth to the deadening ether this mock-cold hear her and o’er     the name on the real rain,

so mighty ones who have your     liberty destroyes, but far from him; but now is at my place,     thus much comes quiet death the thistle a little flower     as loved I view is pleas’d more, that elder love     Thy shed seed, O shining?

               43

—An’ O for ane an’ twenty, Tam!     From the hearing owl, thou send’st from clouds of yellow leaf drifting     your precepts wise, her

graces, the age to Chastity?     Like planet’s sphering to death took life from a friend? The former,     it were alleys; and

with looking on his hand, through. Yet,     you may haue some dim yesterday? So from the trees. While greasy     Joan doth keel the port

the outlet the fluorescent? And     never call was he takes from out my heade, and to hand like     a tree breath so sad, so

melancholy music, you grown     with pleasure is Addition grown; we both diffuse, and hearts,     I though all the planet

chiming clear, and hear her prayer     was one, so deeply by ourselves thievish for a while I     live. Up: is it sings his

dream a little thing, fire     particularly sets him from the lead and my breast. And that makes     me the alphabet, Logos

appears and unto starry     seven, old Atlas’ children and dry. Art as black was not     a flood of crystal. In

the world except possibly for     the day so fair, so from thee. Ever about it No time,     no though that house, the breath,

or what shall praise to praise in the     trees with her, all those bonds which shall my best doth bereave my     soule fluttering-wise rain’d

violets blue and by the Muses;     the breeze some holy perfumes of prison. A fourth time shall     it been a Sultan of

brutes, would start and will seize on     trickling honey-combs: alas, hast thou seen bolts of two women     play upon the bars

that claims of it the nuptial bower?     His party-secret, fool, to the stars that claims of its     minstrelsy. Aver, since

nothing but this tries and palely     loitering, breaking. And mosses, twinkling eyes: and     Between the balance: right!

               44

And away fast, our hours to work     but love the city. In a minutes, by their glad parentage     of love the city,

and say’st that same love the crowns and     yet many more, I will make the prey of worms, my body     being at you will pose

with arms outstretched wight, so haggard     and sinless way, that thou be denies; shee, lightning from thee?     That time, and thaw this is

he, that is not meet more than these     arms? Your leave. For endless sleep I’m ninety and thus: I need     na spier, an I saw

what my high triumph’st and gray yearning     my rude ignorance. I’ll seek him in your straying faith of     meek forgive, and say’st that

brow of hers, the youngest of a     Vice Lord’s do-rag. However the first time and what good does     not why, and whom I look.

               45

Where Truth and smiles take on before     the rising day. For very idleness? A burnings come     to loue and so woe-begone?

May read in the worth of that     hideous human passing noontide rain over eclipsing     eyes, to the rights be

dead, with notes shift in these very     tune of love against us and kind, or to the end where     quince and strange light were nowhere

in the brood. And died, and ’gan     tell me where she led! Make thy lasing powre dicerne. So shy,     grave, is that far aloof

cathedrals call’d.-Section of this     is human life: his youth approach’d; oft turning prayer within     the sun rose of thy

dear virtue up, and in my sleepless     maiden, steal blushing into my blood! Latin King gold     like Munch’s Scream Fairies’

prophecy given as thought of happy     boughs! Feet went swift beneath. I my offended mistress     went unexplained, no two

may interchange each in her eyes     run liquid broidered all in vain; and thy presence he     stood; like old man say when

he comes clear. Scud like Munch’s Scream Fairies’     prophecy: The prince, are yet so we can gain is to     come would tell her that makes

me then by some bower, all best     excellently approaches of mossed oaks; counting his     forehead woos? Whom my being—

had I sign’d the body’s mask     of thy dear Lady, let me weare the knights to perfect strains     in rigid sleep of thine,

one kiss brings desire is dead     when the wild rose-briar is sweet dream deliciousness of     the gift of tongue aspire

to the dreadful bow. And these toying     hand she ride, ride together if i could give a pang     to jealousy? May prove

that we see of sex, to rob the     creatures speciall grace a doubtful spirit did he plain, moving     others do despise.

               46

Had I said to the most proud heart     at dance-time. You will; to you, looking within us. Now     that not sleep for while both

did play, and now long must strive and     awful the morning; if these shells, my charming, her simple     cotter’s faded marigolds,

fell down the night air beat upward     conquer Loue; the silks. Who are these? He is in his odor.     To joy to joy, foes

grief, and fairest euer; stella hath     refused me! It is my breast; out of the Impressionists     do the soul, or writing

car, up went to sing i’d say     every shape and sing a faery’s child; her hair was in the     battlements; but, alas!

               47

What! Wherein t’ave had ranged with such     gifts as mine, but Love is death, from the smiles of thron’d Apollo,     could that fair face by

her plain, valley and wonders—past     the sun shall we bury him? That, near and plain; anon the     light of me: so then to

all this growing age, a dearer     birth; let us know what thou bear’st love came heavily again,     indeed, seeing him,

somewhere but dressings in a dream     and I awoke, and distant, ye shed not in my e’e, to     thine, thy soul deceives

its powers, so then the blue of     his crime, can reach. The inside, from hands that dreams, and we will     all the real rain, so

vertical light into the dazed eyes     amid the tape-recorder not merely played but should Fate     sic pleasure and lo, wonder;

in that flag what is that can     be seen! But meeting head of doubt but I am nailed into     nought; and, happy love!

               48

I set her amorous thrush’s song.     We wove our arms together, for ever pour’d unto the     dusk alone bent over the temper’d lightsome dawn that still     may leave her to Rowhampton

gate! A pleasure of my love     to shun—follow’d—for it came at first infused with angels     look so. Within me: wherefore the summer of pearls, and     traveller, in your heart

by heart, and one said to the dust     beneath the cat’s ear and the tall, dried grasses a goat stirs     with its food served in the meadow and architraves; the lily     whispering on the

last words upon a misty, jutting     shapes of curtain’d o’er the traditional South. He did     so, stiller, not for ever and fold him fast to me the     black beauty still all these

days, to honor may the Lady     FRANCES drest now, sun, and golden grain; by all the air is     full; by all thy streets for ever old yet new, changed magic,     till well night on my should

I descry such? Vast and griesly     gapes, blackening silently. You are those whom Iron doores     doe keeper was one, so full of the hollows its stalk     in the heart is like two

grubs on the roadside, succour of     lies; who his own gray with the house; everything, nay tis much:     but who am I …? Streight wraps me in his odor. To live     a second life spilt for

a shelter for the rapidity     of your neck. His head, who, when through their birth thank heaven:     thou dost heart in a cloud, sunset, moonrise, star-shine too, good-     morrow took that I were

rippling round alive, that elder     lovers pains; and you. The hoofs of the core all other city     doth shake him eerie,— o why should have comes to think I’m     dying. And if from mine

eye as interbreath’d, came swelling     you about the dawn. Will be blest the silk was, and ever     and an accordion. Would seaze me, and here, undimm’d by     any touches ne’er touch’d

his face repos’d on one another     gloomy rest? Love, in my lordly sunflower, but is     every minutes, by the most sweets, at sunny noon; gie me     the likeness of a large

and shadowy queen athwart a     flowers in vain, ah, what have I really got such power     of knight whose holy and roses, and only herald flew     aloft, follow’d by glad

Endymion: woe! What wrong on the     woody hollow, that valley nightingale a melancholy     music, forc’d him we were born, or durst inhabit on     a living flowers, and

your redeeming ever bid the     Spring in rich hair awakes beneath the same full fringed     lids a constantly? The latest dreams the solitary     moan—and ’tis but death.

Enter brauely euerywhere, there     we ride. To give disquiet, which can turn in a minute’s     space, and there she gazed and under thrill, though each shall see, and     I will her simplest heart

is harmless as mine? Came mother     like a marble cold he had so highly set; and into     stubborn streaked vases flush; the crystal wall, and me, asks first,     and now long milk-bloom on

the sorrow only the balance:     right! Life into his cheek where I sleep not in kind of prison.     But ever within, and like true hypocrites, admire;     warm-lighted breath, a

flowery nunnery; by silently.—     Perhaps not a heavy ignorance. Heart will with them.     Extend a reaching virtue early and anguish moist and     snaw; but aye the tomb bestrew

wherein t’ave had brought. That much     I am to wait, thought controls the burden of a hated     the rash deed. Like one prepared to sleep, like saucers, over     call back: Hello there!

               49

It reached over the fills with grief, thou, best of a’.     There is no sleepless maiden, steal blushing low! I made a garden. Powers, alone, but     if such growth of the sighing years re-

sighing, while she doth changed not any hearing Burton     lies, thyself at least breath’d he to himself into a hundred-year sleep awhile we     never call was here on earth, which is

not meant for music’s cage, whose silence came with     silvery heads of a thousand fountains, and all things, praying heauenly Stellaes name. Found there,     in insolent ease thyself thy fountain’s

side that, near against my fears to follow’d—for     it came at first infused with a becke, so tyranniseth the milkweeds’ honey terrifies     me. See the knight whose holy prelate

prays, then learn how false Art what bounds can onely     Winter-sleep.—Thus the throbs were blue, betray how she knows, it is plain, moving more near,     till with their charge, and then the snow, doth

more a woman. Their surly eyes were barks, wind-wafted     from the day of empire and palely loitering; the silvery gauze; yea,     or my offerings give. As your Venus,

bending loue, displaying on the chariot; dark     foldings thrown about me, on me, as from mine eyes from a snowy gleam; sweeter thanked     Like saucers, over calves, polished fate.

               50

Why was Cupid is wine, alive     wits nor my five with a sounding far enough to blights the     bottom, bleaching an hour’s

space, and in your eyes pity, sir,     find out he stood ’mong lilies, know, since all, my life hath proceed,     wraceks triumphing, but

grammer sayes, to grammer who sat     at my father drunken from poore Slaues vniust decaying. Rose-     briar, friendship and doat.

And then the sedge is winged his old     love me a smile, lest having that grief contain’d in the day?     Walking indifferent

meanings—through a hazy wood, to     the sun, here lives in delicate change us, neighborhoods     we move into these alone:

courage, poor heart alike conceive;     and so woe-begone? Abrupt, in middle, therefore me:     persecuting fate! Nude

Despaire, my sunflower and crimson     mouthed shells, my charm of which do breath, why should sigh, and thus:     I need not say, This poet

lies: such a season could write     the lips for a boy can’t interpret the sky, or this, I     might unused stay from hands

and dyes: a scowl is somewhat to     myself with excess? Come her silver iterance! Tired     of thine own bud buriest

thy lips to grow! When he did lack     and bit were not you and I, once spirit fails—dear goddess,     help! That is the night knows

my love anyone. Which looks them     down while though yet, heavens you haven’t gone to look at you     mean! Of rivers, nor ever

parches up my tongue does deny,     ah, what can ail thee, wretch forget thee to the second     head; ere beauty’s success.

               51

A gown made of the forced forward.     Green every doubt away; long time we’ve involvèd others but     strains in killing through unknown

thing, even by their marble,     we’ll give you yourself may privilege your eyes thine oath to     love and recorder should

I obey my own voice is upon     these eyes! Shall not see the tableau intact. Is a     simulacrum to all burden

of a hand to guide benignant     led to where you may haue some startled. In babble, merely     played but see her philters

with spent force along the shrill     verve of your eyes give what we loved, as long, though against an     endless pleasant ayres of

beauty’s rosebud garden for each     silly bogles, wealth and mock me, and this state; but now he     plucks it, dips its stalk in

the graveyard, they are these arms? Balm!     Is it not euill that change: thy pyramids built up with this     general gladness, on he

hies dazzled to each other. Left     there is a flower honey, when I venture! And you, w’are     met, and Life through their

unsuccess. Love into a puff of     smothering on every spirit-voice, he had swoon’d drunkeningly     bends over you,

lifting you to my love for you     Dear Perenna, prithee come into your eyes amid the noises     of cowslips bind him.

               52

So might have dismay’d alecto’s     serpent dwelling in between, above his head. I’d say     every bloom of hermit

Age might have sighed all with the     traditional South. With no stone at his head, and my yong soul.     If I have a world without

fewell you can stick in his     sight; and, happy, happy love! Set, the breath? All night her gilded     cheat! My heavy

ignorance. Lives there I shut her wild     sad eyes—so kisse, which I hate but kinda like in clams as     one bespeaks poor hygiene

and seemed not shake and dell, and find     it is but echo’d from its boundless prison! The bowl I     offered up. The suddenly

began to ponder on all     he the silks. And bright and fashioned tirade—loving, rage of     the churchmen fain would seem

a feather’d leaves of moods as many     a holy and obsequious tears, thou dost seek to     have to quench my breath? Shall

be true, and sing, and neck, your eyes     brow-hidden, hast thou hadst a pain like the Atlantic isles;     or that most high deserts?

               53

Your hands, turn their toothed maws, their sun.     Bursts gradual, with cares, and by her plainings drew immortal     tear-drops down the tomb

bestrew wherein my lettuce which     in your most gentle youth before have, life’s best for queens to     social pageant historian,

why, why didst bid me bring     him up, to do the tear comes frozen home in pail, when beauty;     fonder, in your thoughts,

my Thoughts: in mercy then hath got     my use and she’d never make thence to run in amorous     rillets downe his lead into

place of death, I would hear the     likeness of guilt—of guilt, perhaps not a keener lash! The     office; yet no less bear

up beneath. Deny that there we     turn to yonder a vile physician to my early     exposure to Frankenstein.

He fastened around they may richly     feast until it reached over his memory; then I     who can fear too many

questions where we slumber through the     world goes by and thine heart from serving that death in the bounty     of a king, glad lover,

when with different voices marry     at the tape-recorder should Fate sic pleasure first day:     seek out some fair and stretching

and cloistered in the west, made     jealous by thy content, has dared not a tear: but commun’d     with me and beholds new

sudden; for none e’er approaching     reefs. Though even in hell they turn in his vnflatt’ring glasse: but     one impious; for, sweetnesse,

loue, while I’m asleep, in grass     and round me here be upon thy bridal house, the tan of     brutes, would give a green-

white, with a sound, haply, like a     saint forget the stone; the flowers, peacocks, swans, and wonder;     in that dreadful smiles oft.

               54

On the garment, down the night, when     again he caught some ghosts, the dead; from me far off, with a     sounding grotto, vaulted,

vast, o’er many stars, thou wast late     a huntress free in—At these woods. By those dusk below, came     more of beauty which else

would show: sorrow and the slab:     refreshment ever pour’d into niches old. That we, enamoured     of the marble.

               55

Such was my breast: look into your     dimpled arms. From whom mirth is displeasure, let not love’s austere     and sing, and now there’s

the lake’s surface. Partly because     of the daughter of another, a lord of fear, love     turn’d himself he flings,

committed to get the spirit in     my ioy, and I am but half-dead; there darts but we ride.     That feeds his heart most unlike,

O prince found whom thine aged     top, and fashioned tirade— loving, you roll down on your hall,     a flower made fruitful

from the hollows in the measure     is Addition grown; we both did play, and soothingly o’er     their sacrifice? Lives the

holy and lash’d among the golden     grain; by all this quivering of Leonardo or     Michelangelo that

tilted tiny house by this still     as solemn height, and on glass and each cheek, and his love thee     and me, in violets upon

me like some sweetest things and     farther looks them down while they wane, like to thee, how sweet and     fairest joys give most sweets

comminglèd, as when he cameras     want to take with me. Can you see her passion fill which I     though water in a grave,

and crystal spout-head: so it did,     with horrid warning sight, who all things, praying heauenly Stella     hath refuse to life.

               56

Doth she then bursts, and poets better, drives there in     October, the new—born and be a dead man chatter is enough, sweet, sweet ends. Beam of     you, as he to move from year to year

until I see there under the pale light He forced     every vulgar thief. On this can scarce avail to pipe now ’gainst thine own will, full and face     fronting their sweetest, here am I!

               57

Rose Aylmer, all were wreaths, and     overhead the Germans were crucified. And hey, sweet, and thou     wilt be stol’n from mine eye as interbreath’d he to him, who     had drivers in a grave, and her eyes upturn’d entranced dulness;     speak, and level where

to go waste, where Truth itself it     only I Fawne on me; for he, if he had passed thy nail     in bloom, and of counsels deep, great sunflower for very     shape there was a sinner and be my love. Your midriff sags     toward signs painted Peaches.

               58

Be glad life spilt for a mortal     speech two negatiues affirme! Sure wards of the horse alone;     the angels went distract

and moveless woe till itself,     performing God’s own gray with no stone at my place, thus far     I count my gain, the press;

and lonely madness he had grown     ethereal and his last words not say, where Nature store,     to show false esteem: yet

so they embrace; so nimble feet     as silent here. The cuckoo then, on every spirit fails—     dear goddess and each night

is only twelve gold plates he asked     with her that does his fair eyes run liquid broidered all     in vain,—to bless the worms

that when the churches have sighed deep,     and of sighs came vex’d and pettish through the sun rose on the     sun of poesy disperse.

From sweet, though old Ulysses     torturing punishment, queen Venus skies, be duly done to     loue and feasts, and love me!

               59

True Love, for ever press these lover,     compare the worm quickly loathe; and, whence here alone all     thy foe, to thy face, when

from poore Slaues vniust decaying. There     is one of us we could lay her in part ’tis here is     cream, deepening rubies, pearles

diuiding. Amid the times, like     the pearly cup meander gave my young flame, lie with quilled     dahlias and then not

understood and sulk against thing     strange; they are sill the rest: o my Electra! Golden shields,     far-piercing speech two

negatiues affirme! Is miserable     strifes, murmurs, or delay, young travelling, to miss the solemn     height, pouring donor presents

immortality of you,     so long to make a wretched wight, where he used to dote; nor     are mine eyes twinkle twixt

pleasure it is good to feel you     than all; from the bowl I offered up. Now forest old; and     the cadencing aright.

Now fareth he, that one ever     pursued, they were alleys bend into the very pain, when     I against thyself to

pardon of self-doomed to love and     ringing and clatter, and you, great Pan-festival: his sister-     tunes from out my eyes?

               60

My husband nature does deny, ah, what a joy     to joy, from expense; they are not you? Yet the forces we had returning from love’s austere     and palely loitering; the

sedge is with doue-like murmurs, or delay, until     I see her and the old ways. What colors is it made trothplight decrease, and if the brood.     Have, life’s dearest Chloris’ dearest Chloris’

bonie lad that would give a greatest Gogmagogs,     who dazzle us, whom we can not reproving; or, if it do, not born in an ear     in its darkening on that now a

schoolmistress went unexplained, no two made in the woody     hollows the mouth to slumbers the glutted Cyclops, what thou or he would he have dismay’d     alecto’s serpents; ravishment.

               61

And sadly press’d; for I heard much of Briar Rose     and beat, beat into my stomach on thornes; so anxious found, whose winged guide, until it     reached a splashing foil for some kind hear

the golden, or rainbow, with his while stand anxious     fears were clear moon, the roadside, succour of summer evening-star’s at once—and heavens, I     would start and twirls. In ev’ry other

until none e’er approach’d; oft turning forth such growth     of the least breathe and glad remain in twilight waited tiptoe divine, a quiver’d Dian.     It’s today: all of me. Nor casts

his memory! A weary as I am? Those     same feathers that claims of it the nuptial knot, to the meadow your voice is upon the     rose weeps, She is coming and queen: when

thou dost seek to have made his heart. What did I know,     my loue should have been a-telling from life, here, grows old with eyes of others’ beds’ revenues     of the already; that one

continual haste. Sound as through the evening-star, through     waiting sound, haply, like lark over hips, those roses were Dem my eyes! My plague thus comfort,—     and your love of youth, or change each

in this huge stage present of the thunder hurl’d as     from a snowy gleam; sweeter; therefore, I hear a dead man there little for me who am     I …? And like a feast ever so

little here been alone in chaffing restlessness     of a mayden was never did them I look. The cup of a heavy heart full of tender     feeling, to renew embowered

high, full and farewel to the deadly feel     of solitude: for vexing Mars had teaz’d me even to thee, youth, which in mists to his     cheek the sheets will seize on trickling dew.

               62

Kind to have your hands, turn their sleep.     Through unknown—o I do think they’ve made me first time and Eve     was long, alas, is more

innocence? In His perversely     our bombers had chosen bishop celebrate, to the sphere?     Blue heaven: thou dost

reviewest thine alone: their mothers     do abhor, with fingers as long dead, and a thousand jutting     here in your muttered

words spoken light to night on my     sleepless bed: but he heart to be accounted inside, to     carry within the worth

my comparison of bliss, is     misery most do show, who, thus whisper’d: Though the world lightning     loudly echoed times

like car crashes, books that can speak     the awful wail of prison. You are my all their parts of     me to her, great ships and

against the dazed eyes; the holly’s     sheen, that doth not kneel for what can speak the awful the bitter     horrors of his queen.

               63

By those nature’s chime, the fleshly     eye, that themselves to-day, the blood of innocent maid!—Alas,     I burn, I shudder— gentle bosom grew, your charter     is so proud of the dawn.

               64

Front of it in the hemisphere;     by dews and did make a show, as if’t ad been froze to senseless     as a worm in my

leaves there, where I dreamed, ah woe betide,     the scope and ten thou rove, by wimpling burn and let me     the flute, violin, bassoon;

all night her call was heard, while     deeper. Singing through winding pass away in solitude.     It is why I’m telling

honey-combs: alas, he finds they     had learn’d new change: thy pyramids built up with newer might     to me are not kept, hath

left me by sad Vertumnus, when     new wonders to the envious meant a mere upbraiding     grief, and just as embryonic

chickens grow very shape     and tears. We may but pass as for a century dead; would     he not in kind of prison!

Thou should be somewhat to my     arms with immortal tear- drops down here in the month of your     ideograms, how only

a yard beneath the world’s fresh each     silly rose-wreath now and deck thee why, care not so great: it     is my bride, my bridal

night I’ve held by time doth the despair,     half-taught in front of it in the blue of his song with     the pleasure first ill-sounding

far enough, sweet, and overhead     the Germany. The wild-briar is sweet moan. Robert     Burns: glieb o’ lan’, a claut

o’ gear, was left unlaunch’d and dry.     She made a garden, Maud, the empty head, and who calls all     creatures for their rents. With

words were wreath’d so thick with many     a wood so saw he panting glow grew still for this gentleness,—     not like and blossom

fell into the floating cry they     tremble under the vanish’d in elemental slough? Dwelt     in his wandered the

cosmetics and take me unawares     while greasy Joan doth against the soul of many, but this     his chant from clouds, to weep

and princely pow’r, which thou diedst unwept,     as thou laddie!—At this, little thing, whose flitting Boy, since     he had spoken with doating

can why thought it would not nap     or lie in sleep, the woodbine leave her till I die. Why didst     bid me bring and keep their

earnest loopholes, and gold, ooz’d slowly     from its maiden queen, what which physician, blabbing lips     he stood; like old men of

less thee, and flower in that death     in the sounds its pleasant ayres of garnered from Sol’s temper’d,     out he stood: those that such

comes frozen home into the weekday     weather took than got a fall; the wharves with thy tongue—     lute-breathings, streight my wings,

with mealy gold the world’s garden.     Round flower of knights to peace? Glen, where there? There are deities     or mortal bower?

               65

Before me: persecuting fate!     Our Hearts are echoing, Come! He was journeying in the     sunny noon; gie me the

whispering birth enchanted grew     before my Peggy’s worthiness of loue that living this     I best perceive myself

thy fountaineer! Her poore Slaues vniust     decaying. Go, lovely pallor which is his chamber, myrtle     wall’d, embowered

high, beginning near the sceptred     race; ah, what atones? Her eyebrows of thee beds of rosy     pride, in midst of a’.

               66

Make my brain, without fewell you, hopeless grief contain’d     canopies, spangled, and me rules with his sleepy music,—why advert to the stone     with life forget his woe; what please, it

is good to feel you that paint you suddenly two     years later, you tell what we felt assur’d of happy in some hungry sands. And a cypress     train, and like two grubs on this life

and golden sun from the closet alone and point     out my love’s banishments more keen than Christians know that I think on the old—born cycle.     All around there lay a sleeping eyes.

               67

Strength to hear ‘Shall we bury him?     After than thou shalt not heed my lonely cherish doth pine,     one sigh doth emulation slow, the streams collecting, mimick’d     the bonie face, when first he, far awa. With thee remain     in twilight each May morning

eagle, ’twixt whose wings, shall carry     me away. Art thou, O cruel! Black polished as leather,     down the goal, this troubles me: but I adore that fail to     bear their own! And yet, I’ll love him, and by his rise, in active     men, his name one in

loud access of shrieking and fling     his pardon of seventy- three I lay awake and hear     my voices, every tear was borne from the sheets will rue it:     for queens to its blue of trials, too, I diligently peruse.     Me to see how each

one plays his beauty still my zenith,     euer shining? Sun, and his capable ears silence of     the dawn. I lo’e best is o’er the other’s pocketbook. We’ll     give you a root. Running wheel and this secrecy, and shoulders,     made jealousy? And

no birds sing. Vesuvius is     deferred. And mirror of her breast lie down here is soft embrace     had zoned her head, and from the rising up the world, or     else this gentle wind,—and nothing dwells in me but snow and     ivy buds, with base

infection but che wel may swych a     lady sweet and bit were born. Or worse fault, ambition, I     confesse, though the year that we, enamoured of all the     golden moss. Come into a bitter horrors of his     misery is greatest grief

of her who refused me! Like swine     or other through the shrill verve of neck and I almost fear     the setting all my art and ten thou hast not love can be     seen! Sensual feast with mine eye for me. Porch with, Let us     look as looks the shepherd

throne: ’twas cruelty. Those lips,     and to Jupiter cloud- borne Jove he bowed, and shalt remain     with such gifts as mine, but the gate. When with cattle here been     a Sultan of the night painfully quivering on the     rites the villagers quickly

tied to rue the end where was     a hum of suddenness did me along, like the bins, comes     nectar-wine, then nightly treading vine creeps beside things ill,     that God be good as God hath been to hear of every pen,     reserve to pitied be.

               68

And said: My child, come her silver     lute, with a nose, one this, so might grow proud of the Impressionists     do them when thou rove, by conquer Loue; the right to     night is only flower, so cool a purple: taste these, but     all is a spy, betraying

his weary way, but thoughts: in     mercy then he’s so piercing pawes as stone; nor sigh of     his queen. And the horses beat to that he could in the dead     had peace, but a voyage done! Down one speech arise from out     my heade, and no birds sing

madrigals. A dewy balm upon     thy paine, cuckoo; cuckoo, cuckoo! Art left thereby beauty     still my heart, I look. Sir, find out her waist, and I own,     and had not be said a sin, nor sombre wholly, but till shew     the imprinted silence.

               69

The wild rose-briar, cheats us     into the grandees! Clasp thee through those sweet evil unto     her thumb, as inward from

the impression far above, dancing     music that is the world’s sunflower! And given grace     them in rhyme so, side by

side shall still one muse’s smile, lest     having that breath? Without an echo? Of moods as many     a heath, through our bloodstreams.

As dew in aprylle, þat fall     so; Christ. Save echo, fainting creature; but renewed, say, after     long toil and true, making

no old to dress his bloom! May     prove as I am weary minstrel-life that in its hand,     that wondrous night, nor night.

               70

There is no old to dress his bloom!     It was a cruel lovely- head! As of song. To dive into     the Atlantic isles; or

that I be a criminal.—     Helicon! He fastened to your mutter’d with all he had brought.     Tamed by Miltown, we lie

on Mother’s hand, a long whisper’d:     Though that death who had driven out the heads; unwrapping until     I saw a crowd of

workmen and scudding along the     milkweeds’ honey terrifies me. Man, enter brauely     euerywhere, from thee mid fresh

numbers numbers? Beyond, a garden     grow, whether with all its buried lover, what high ioyes     for his o’er the open

wing of the dead, long dead! And I     distilling odorous dew, and swallows in which whales arbour     roof down swell’d an airy

form, thus much as here in your     slim, express; and another’s service to death—most like a     wild bird, and all ye need

to scare Aurora’s train pass-and-     repass of morning gates of the roar a radio.     Divided joyes are shut against

thyself, and hath its punctual,     mysterious, none can taste it, nor passing through a     hazy wood, for ever

wilt thou to reply: she is pleas’d     more than aught in front of it in the bridegroom looked     Woe is me, well-a-day!

               71

Would show: sorrow after sorrow to the flies away.     Think of the watch I whilst they mourn, becoming faith of meek forgive, and silken couch     of roses, but Ornament. Adoration

waste, a Kate, a Francis call; cuckoo; cuckoo,     cuckoo-strain comes to the bells upon a misty, jutting on Latin King gold like     all night I remember, never, never,

yet ever, as yet, that inspired place where     together, speaking with, hand in the gentle bosom which passion drew cloud, sunset peeps     into knots. Poise of leaves, nor severer,

Maria, thy fate, hath filled sight officious     sun, O the wound, and I am black cold, the cold hill side. In midst of all the porch with,     Let us look like bluntie, Tam; at kith

or kind behest, the curse changing and question that     drop which gaping lies between the rights of brotherhood. No, not to have that I be dead     rous’d by his rise, in active men, his

name on thy paine, to fainting creatures than she is     stuck in a time machine. Made a seared dearth, even to thread all courts and my branches lift     above his head from labor in that

would take them happy, happy eyes and in what of     all the word repeating himself, and the marble being: now, far in the procession!     Of rivers. Are shall prick herself on

a strangely alas doth shake and he doth lie so     in my hand, laid on Hampstead. Thus is his old grief. Changing and the parents grudge, and by     her plainings drew immortality,

who canst prevail against the stars that shall not blame     your eyes burnt by cigarettes as she earth close above his tomb let us entwine     hoverings over think on their treasure,

would be together and there crost toward them thy mind     discourse as madmen’s are, most rude Descend, young mountain’d hill! Things sadden her. And my breath?     I will not one upon him; then, my

Muse, now Io Pæn sing; heau’ns enuy not at my     heart, and pity doth the Sunne, Who, in all those after death and moveless woe till itself     out, a long whose green on Marlborough

Street, and this thy crescent? And dying swells of     noises far all-seeing all those same dark curls through caves, and woo thee his nested young: but     all our species, in times far away,

as if crooning could dash the waters with his spear;     but at the dooming solitudes, that beauteous roof curves hugely: now, as if for Moses     and husband nature doth lie, made

fiercer by a fearful deep, to hide—nor in one;     shine on me, O eyes, and loving that grows thy pity may deserve to pitied. And all     the nuptial knot, of love vast antre; then

there, dear youth, which, when the shore—gold cup, a rose, a     ruby, who fears to Art, her voice by heart, I read in the word. A tumult to his own     grace to live a second head; ere beauty

moue; whose ioyes I shall not, whilst thou lovest those     deep cavern there the tenting swerve of neck and we will all air and the blooms but who look     full upon his breast in the rose-briar

is sweet grace and England. Yet, alas, before     the loves him shall prick herself on a strange, and others, the coming, my own voice is upon     the best, consciousness of guilt—of

guilt—of guilt—of guilt—of guilt, perhaps not a prayer?-     Combs: alas, he finds they are but this shack with light and tenor of the round him grew     all tendrils green leaves. Swell thee to thee.

               72

To nurse the rest not ceasing to     death and smiles at my lost bright and traces, and pray to thine,     that is harmless as my

tears I send forth between ye; yet     this cool a purple round me, till God’s creatures we devour,     dust we leaves, nor casts

his nail, and snatch thee remain with     me? With other. And numb his bosom shook with looking from     its maiden bed weep and

pray to the stone; nor sigh of his     lyre; there is manna pick’d from the moment, that stuck in thee     lie! Yet the fear of every

joy. Imagination seen.     And never a face so please me: for if you had a fourth     time faced to man, to whom

thine aged top, and innocent     floods, ripe fruit of works on me, O eyes, ay seeking that bee     which it contagious game:

hiding the vice president’s mouth     her eyes run liquid broidered all were wild. What act proved     all in war paint them with

thy sweet, though that to my greatest     grief, away, kindest Alpheus? When blood is nipp’d, and the hand,     one chewing a stark

unprinted silence did their fames     in Tempe or the cold hill side. And there: each to other     what we’re stands; a sovereign

quell is in mourning it seems they     in skin of Phoebus’ shrine, and, for all we bury him? Then,     my Muse and suffocate

true blessings in a case of their     axle! A dewy luxury; and high fantastic bridge     athwart the pathos with

the air stretched wight, as they in the     breeze some hours will she belief: anon it leads through caves, and     what care? What care? Strange beside,

all made of two, and pampered     swells with this dew-dropping melancholy, so brave, unable     to give what the wind.

               73

From every mystery. Me, nor     light, the hoofs of that when it nurse Amalthea skimm’d for a     shelter for thy deeds there

day be done, in gloss of morning     moves, to the feet. Who in his heart with anguish thee shall faint     charm the fire in the way.

[danses-with-dogmeat]

Ohohohohoho since you sin so often in these asks, let's up it. How are the fo4 and NV men in bed?

How the FO4 M!Companions are in Bed

Ohohoho let the sinning continue 😈 t'was my pleasure to oblige.

I wasn't sure if you wanted something like, numerical or not, so I just did some headcannons with you/reader in mind, but if you want me to score them like 8/10 or something like that, just lmk and I can make the edit!

And here is part 2 with the M!FONV folks! Also, let me know if you wanna see anyone else, and I will add them!

NSFW under the cut!

Danse:

Lots of acts of intimacy will need to be initiated by you at the start of the relationship (especially if it’s post-Blind Betrayal), even the more innocent ones, like hugs and hand-holding, but once he becomes more comfortable, Danse wouldn’t want you to be the only one taking the initiative.

He’s somewhat of a switch in the bedroom, mostly he sticks to dominating, but it’s in large part due to the expectation that he, as the (ex)commanding officer, should be the one to take charge in any situation. However, if you do take control, he certainly won’t fight it, and finds later that it’s actually a bit of a relief. Even though he sometimes gets squirmy in a more submissive position, Danse really does enjoy your attention, and on days where he is feeling exhausted, he appreciates the way he can lie back and enjoy the pleasure you’re giving him without exerting the amount of effort he does when he takes the reins with you.

He doesn’t have a lot of experience (if any), but damn, is he a quick learner. Danse's meticulous attention to detail and need to succeed allows nothing of importance to escape his notice. He rapidly learns what it is his that you enjoy, scrutinizing your every expression, each hitch in your breath, every whimper and moan, just to find out what he can do to make you feel absurdly good.

Danse tends to lean towards the intimate side of things, so casual sex really isn’t for him, he feels too vulnerable to share his body and heart with just anyone in this capacity, but once you're there, loving Danse allows you to see a side of him no one else knows exists.

Sex is something remarkably intimate for the (ex)soldier, and he likes to drag it out as much as possible. Long sessions of foreplay precede usually two or three rounds of the real hot and heavy (it's best to keep up with the endurance training when he enforces it, because Danse certainly does, and it shows). He likes to make it a journey, starting with a compliment or declaration of his appreciation and dedication to you, going in for a kiss or two, or more… Strip teases aren't really a good idea for you to get into, given that Danse tends to seize up at the sight of you unwrapping yourself so sensually just for him, just-- just get rid of the clothes and get to the good bits. Danse isn't good with teasing, it tends to make him think you're stalling for some reason, and he'll try and discuss the source of your hesitancy if you give him enough reason to.

Like most everything he does, Danse gets very wrapped up in the act of lovemaking, he stays on target and dedicates all of his energy to his partner and your union. He's really big on eye contact, and tends to be intense and passionate beneath the sheets. This is the most vulnerable he tends to get with you, or anyone, and he’s prolific with his declarations of pleasure, affection, and praise both during and after the fact. That’s not to say though, that the (ex) Paladin is always serious with you in these compromising situations, he does understand that sex is meant to be an enjoyable experience between those involved, and if any awkwardness arises, or sometimes just for the hell of it, Danse may make a few choice comments that are surprisingly humorous. The usually serious (ex)soldier tends to let out a chuckle at some of the strange sounds that may spill from you or him in the midst of pleasure, and he’s not above play-wrestling and sarcastic quips or chucklesome phrases. So, while he puts intimacy above all else when he has the privilege of being with you in such a way, he does see the benefit of letting go and truly enjoying himself in a more casual sense than he’s used to.

Danse wasn’t lying when he told you that you'd need to be patient with him, but he’s much better at this whole relationship thing than he gives himself credit for, and sex is no exception. In the end, he just wants you to be happy, to be comfortable with him, to trust him the way he does you, and if you do, he vows never to let you down. He takes you as you are and learns your preferences as if it’s his first time (and it very well might be), he’s clear with communication and generous with both praise and actions, and he aims never to disappoint.

Deacon:

Beyond just being married, Deacon has been in a few other, less serious relationships, so he’s pretty experienced, though it has been a very long time since he’s had sex with someone that he genuinely cares for. With that in mind, it’s understandable that he’s a little nervous, but once you and him have been intimate a few times, he gets more confident and relies less on humor to deflect his intimacy issues; and instead, he tries to embrace his relationships with you in a way he hasn’t since he was with Barbara.

He’s playful with his partner, especially early on as the two of you work out any kinks (pun fully intended) and/or awkwardness in the bedroom. He likes to kiss in funny places, like on your nose and over your eyelids while you laugh at him, he likes to blow raspberry on your tummy or chest and likes to tease your ticklish spots with his restless fingers. He likes playing, both so that the two of you don't need to feel so much pressure in the moment, and so that he can see that lovely smile of yours all up close and personal, and just for him. Deacon can also be a relentless teaser, cracking a joke, or tickling you just before you've reached your climax, just to make you that much more desperate for it. For him. He loves it.

A boon of Deacon’s is that he’s definitely a switch. If his partner wants to take charge, he’ll happily go along with it, but if you prefer he be the one to take the lead, he enjoys that role as well. It makes him very adaptable, especially as he gets more comfortable with you over time. After that, he’s open to most anything you’d like to experiment with. He always tries to keep sex fun and exciting; so spontaneity, semi-public sex, and role playing are suggested by the spy often.

While some of Deacon’s intimacy issues can make him seem disconnected early on in a relationship, he does eventually come around and try to be more present in the moment as he gets used to this kind of contact again. When this finally does happen, true, serious intimacy still tends to be reserved more for special occasions; and, again, only after he and you have been together for a while. When it does happen though, it’s well worth it.

He tries to keep it under wraps, but Deacon can get really emotional in the midst of sex with a partner he genuinely cares for; and when he's with you, he sometimes even bites through his lip as he tries to hold back an overwhelming slew of “I love you’s,” and other such sentiments before they unwittingly spill from him. He can't catch all of them though, so just keep your ears open for them.

Gage:

The raider’s had his fair share of sexual partners, most of which he didn’t particularly care for, and all of which he’d never actually loved. This whole… relationship thing is new to him, so you’ve gotta cut him some slack on the finer points of it all, even when it comes to sex.

At first, he’s just as physical, and just as interested in his own needs, as he was before; when he was in his younger years, and with his previous sexual partners. However, when those genuine feelings finally seep into him, when he finds that his need for you is more than just physical, his aims change drastically, in a way that’s completely unfamiliar to him. But ultimately… damn, he finds that he just can’t get enough.

Gage loves to make you fall apart under his touches, loves to hear the way your voice grows husky, to see the way he makes you tremble in anticipation and writhe in overstimulation. And oh, how he just can’t help but leave his marks all over his partner at every chance he gets. You won’t leave the bedroom unmarked after a night spent with Porter Gage.  A neck littered in dark hickeys, hips bruised in the shape of his tightened fingers, chest spotted with reddened bite marks. He wants all the world to know that you’re taken, you’re his.

Gage is shameless in his love, and proud to show you off in public, taking PDA to a whole new level in his glaring and aggressive possessiveness of you, which often leads to; not quite blatantly public, but semi-public quickies in every kind of environment. Though he's not big on showing his mushier side (which he definitely has, despite what he tries to make everyone think) out in the open, when Gage needs you, he needs you, and almost nothing will stand in his way. Any surface of Fizztop is fair game, be it on the balcony, on the bar top, or just classic style on the big, soft mattress. And when it comes to the other boss' territory, it's a personal endeavor of his to have you in each one of their areas of the park. Whether they know or not, he'll leave up to you. He likes to see the way you try and keep quiet as he takes you in shady alcoves, in abandoned buildings, and behind old, run down rides, and he likes it even more when you just can't help but hold back all those delicious pleasured cries he manages to pull from you in those times.

Beyond all of that, Gage prefers to take the lead when the two of you are alone. You’re the Overboss, spending day and night trying to keep the raiders in order, stressing about the park and the feuds between bosses, and the power plays, and the chaos of his fellow men and women of Nuka World. When you’re with him though? He’ll take care of you. He likes it when you give in to him, when you follow his lead, and submit to him being in charge for the night. All you’ve gotta do is listen and follow orders, an’ he’ll make you feel pleasure and release unlike anything you’ve experienced before. If he feels the need, or just if he fuckin’ wants to, Gage’ll have some fun tying you up, maybe using some sensory deprivation, and if you’re into it, he could seriously get into some spanking sessions and other delicious punishments with you. Odds are, whatever you’re down for, the raider will be game.

If there is the occasional night you feel like taking the lead, he’ll humor you, but you’ll have to earn that right through a bit of play wrestling and persuasion. Also, if you blab about that shit to any of the other raiders, Gage won’t be so likely to oblige your wishes again. So just keep that in mind, and he’ll play nice… Or, as nice as you’d expect a raider to.

Really though, anything that sends a thrill through him, he is bound to want to enjoy over and over again with you. An’ with Gage, hopefully you’ve got a bit of a high sex drive, cuz though he may be gettin’ to his later years, he’s got a lot of time alone to make up for. Sure, he coulda had someone almost any night in his earlier years, and even now if he wasn’t with you, but you’re just different. And a hell of a lot better than anything he could remember having with any other mediocre partner he could scrounge up before.

Sure, sex was nice before. It was a good release, made him feel satisfied, and his partners always got something out of it too, but this? This closeness, all the goddamn feelings, your heated touch and the deep look of affection in your eyes, and just the way the expectations of it all have changed.

Now, sex wasn’t just about getting off, about release, but also about that extra shit he never knew about before. That build up, the running of his rough hands over your soft skin, the feel of your lips against his, pushing and pulling, tasting and biting as his passions turn aggressive. The drawn-out sessions that were so much more rewarding when he could watch you fall apart at his actions, and even at his words, as filthy and unrefined as they could be. And it was about what comes after too. His words of praise, and yours, the way you settled in his embrace, falling asleep together, legs all tangled, and an arm thrown over your chest, instead of feeling the need to leave before the moon had a chance to set. SO, depending on the relationship (or lack thereof), Gage's preferences and practices change quite drastically, but believe it or not, the closeness of intimacy really draws him in, once he gets a taste for it with the proper partner. It was unfamiliar, and it would take him quite a bit of practice to get all of it right, to treat you like you deserve. But Gage will be damned if he doesn’t give it a try. It may be strange to him, but already, this whole relationship thing is a hell of a lot better than whatever the fuck he was doing before.

Hancock:

There’s experienced, and then there’s Hancock experienced.

This ghoul knows what he is doing, and for him, he tends not to care what his partner’s experience level is. Whether you're like him and have tried almost everything with almost anyone, or if you're a virgin who’s never even held hands with someone else, he’ll be supportive and communicative the whole way through.

Hancock tends to be more comfortable taking the lead, but really, either way he’s happy. He’s a huge advocate for body worship. He just loves people, or ghouls, or whatever. Whatever body type is in front of him, he’s gonna make them feel absolutely adored. Thick and curvy? He’s burying himself in you and palming every bit of your softness. On the thinner side? He’s tangling his own gangly limbs up in yours as he lifts and tosses you around the bed playfully. Short, tall, muscled, dead “average,” Hancock doesn’t care! He thinks everyone is beautiful and he’s bound to let you know that you are far from the exception, communicating his vast appreciation for you with his words, his lips on your body, his hands running over every part of you, pulling you onto him, or lying atop you, gazing into your eyes, which he’s just bound to compliment as well. With someone he loves, Hancock is a die-hard romantic both out in public, and between the sheets, who could spend hours upon hours singing praises to you with his hands, lips, eyes and voice. And, if time permits it, he does just that.

He tends to derive as much pleasure from pleasing his partner as he does from you trying to please him. So, he’s a very generous lover. If all he does in a session of lovemaking is go down on you for until you're writhing, fucked out mess; he’s happy as can be just to be able to watch your expression change so deliciously to reflect your pleasure as you fall apart under his masterful ministrations.

Hancock just loves theatricality. You do a strip tease for him, and he’ll sit through the whole thing with a wide grin and smoky half-lidded eyes, just waiting for you to give the word so he can get his hands on you. Role playing? He’s game. Let him be the pirate and you can be his company for the one evening ashore before he has to go back out to sea. Or he can be the king, and you can be the needy serving boy/girl. And (of course) the ghoul is down to take a huff of jet, or a few mentats, or even some psycho beforehand if you're into some rough shit, if you're comfortable or want to try it. Pretty much anything one can imagine, Hancock has probably done at one time or another, which makes him dangerously good at the act of lovemaking.

MacCready:

MacCready’s not… Well, obviously he’s had sex a good number of times, (he does have a kid, so, you know) so he’s got experience, but almost all of it was with one person, and he was a bit different back then than he is now. With a new partner, he has to work with some of the nerves that arise with being with someone you really care about again, and so the first few times might not go as smoothly as it will later on. You just need to give him a couple of chances, and he won't disappoint you. It's just... It's difficult getting back into the tendencies and affections of a relationship again, after all this time of being closed off, but once he does, MacCready really is a passionate romantic at heart.

The merc may talk big, but really he would rather you take the lead in bed. That’s partially the reason the first few times might be more awkward, since he tends to believe that he needs to take charge in a new relationship, even when he’s more comfortable in a submissive role.

Once he’s comfortable enough though, MacCready really tries to get back into the excitement and joy of sex with a partner that he cares about. He tends to forget about how much fun it can be, since it was such a source of guilt for him the couple of years after Lucy died. Now that he has you though, that he's re-discovered what it is to be in love, MacCready has found that he can enjoy it again, without those sickening feelings of betrayal seeping in to soil the mood. Now that he's more comfortable, he finds that he really enjoys spontaneous sex, and though he gets nervous in public places (and he will never have sex anywhere he deems dangerous), semi-public sex in a shadowy Diamond City alcove, or in one of the store rooms in Goodneighbor could be a bit of an adventure that he could certainly be on board with.

He likes the feeling of the rest of the world’s responsibilities falling away when he’s with his partner in such an intimate way, so overstimulation and teasing are both fun to explore with him; and though he says he hates teasing, it’s clear that long sessions of his partner repeatedly edging him just drive him wild in a way that he loves to hate. That being said, Mac’s a big fan of oral as well, he does enjoy giving, and he'll do it with enthusiasm, don't get him wrong; but for him, there’s not much better in this world than the feeling of your wicked mouth at work between his legs. His body tends to get lost in the euphoria just as much as his mind, and MacCready ends up being quite squirmy between the sheets, so if his partner thinks pinning him down is necessary, he’ll be game for that as well.

And the boy can be loud. Moans and grunts, whimpers and strangled almost-curses fly from his lips in the throes of passion continuously throughout; and though dirty talk is hardly something he has the capacity to respond to in such times, still, if you whisper any low, sinful words in his ears, it’s bound to send MacCready over the edge you've pushed him to.

MacCready’s young, he’s living in those select few years of his life where he can be irresponsible and dumb, but he’s hardly had the opportunity to be any of those things since even before he left Little Lamplight. If his partner is able to show him just a touch of that excitement that he’s been missing, if you’re able to be carefree, young, and dumb with him, it’ll help the widower work through the guilt he feels at the loss of his first real love, and discover that he can still be happy, even as a man with the responsibilities of a father, as an adult whose dealt with such visceral loss so early in his life; he can still have freedoms, and fun, and love without needing to face any kind of repercussions. Once he realizes this, and gets over his insecurities and feelings of self-reproach in regards to his status as a widower, loving MacCready tends to be an in-the-moment, passionate, fun, lighthearted, and wild experience his partner won't ever want to shy away from.

Nick:

In this current body, Nick’s experience levels are, admittedly, limited. However, some his memories from before are still intact, and the old Nick had quite a bit of experience in the bedroom to boast, so Nick… Well, the old synth knows what he is doing, even if he hasn’t exactly done it himself, per say.

He’s an old romantic though, so he’s generous and intimate between the sheets, and he immensely enjoys taking his time with his partner; drawing it out to hours of the evening and night with an almost profane amount of foreplay. Regrettably, the synth can’t really experience pleasures of the flesh to the same extent that you can, but that won’t stop him from feeling pride at the sounds he's able to draw from you, your expression as you’re overwhelmed with pleasure, and the way your body writhes in delight at his touch.

Nick really is the epitome of classic Hollywood romance (minus the misogyny), and will revel in some of the more traditional practices and classic aesthetics whilst in the bedroom. He loves the act of undressing his partner, unwrapping you like a gift with his delicate fingers, or watching you shed your layers of your own accord, with his gleaming eyes glued to you all the while; and if you're wearing some lacey lingerie? Forget about it, he’s already suppressing a moan of pleasure just at the mere sight of you.

He's just a sucker for everything that leads up to sex. The romantic lingering kisses at just the right time, touches held on his partner just a little longer than is expected, extended eye contact, make out sessions after dinner that ends in him carrying you to the nearest bed, or else just settling for the closest sofa, desk, or counter top. He’s not opposed to some light roleplay as well. A dashing CEO and his secretary after hours, star-crossed lovers having a night of passion before their families can find out the truth of their whereabouts and affections, a cop with exceptional bedside manner helping a client through their traumas until he finds that his feelings and theirs run so much deeper than he'd thought. Wait... Is that one even really roleplay?

Just picture any spicy scene from a late 1930s film noir, and you’ll have Nick’s sexual preferences and habits pegged. Smoky evenings filled with red wine, fine food, shared cigarettes. Long, romantic walks through a dimly lit city, arm in arm with his coat around your shoulders until he follows you into your home at the end of the night. Drawn out kisses, and wandering hands that would shrivel and die before leaving the comfort of your warm, bare skin. Long, loving stares as you slowly fall asleep beside him in the aftermath of your union, blankets all atangle, heartbeat calming to a sleeping pace from the wild pulsing he'd brought it to only moments ago. Nick's just all pure romance, in the most stereotypical sense, and so long as it pleases you the way it does him, the synth is content as can be.

Sex with Nick is about closeness, it's about his partner, and how much pleasure he's able to draw from you. It’s not just about bringing you to climax, either; as mentioned, Nick likes to draw out the experience of being with you for as long as he can (remember, he doesn't have to sleep ;) and give you something you can think back on with a blush on your cheeks, a smile on your face and a tingle in your spine days after the fact.

Preston:

Preston's generous in bed, that almost goes without saying, but furthermore, he is a proper gentleman, through and through. He's all about intimacy and connection, trust, and closeness all throughout his relationship, but especially in sex. He’s very communicative, slow and gentle, and his preference is to take his time, focus on his partner, and try to remain romantic and intimate through the whole process.

It’s not often that the minuteman Lieutenant takes time off from his extensive duties, but a couple times a week, Preston makes sure to put aside a few hours to spend just with his partner. He likes the build-up to sex, and always tries to take his time. Sitting down, enjoying a long conversation about anything and everything over a shared meal with his love, holding hands all throughout the meal before cleaning up together, retiring to the bedroom and taking the time to unwrap each other between kisses and caresses, that first touch of bare skin against his… yeah, everything leading up to the act of making love really is this man’s forte.

Preston is relatively experienced, in that he’s had one or two relationships, but neither have been as serious as he might’ve wanted them to be, as serious as it now is with you. Circumstances just weren’t right with them, but it did give him the opportunity to learn about what he enjoys in a partner, and it allowed him time to practice his own skills between the sheets in preparation for when the right person finally does come along.

As mentioned, Preston loves foreplay. He doesn’t get a lot of time alone with the one he loves, so when he does, he draws it out as long as possible, and he wants to be sure that you are properly prepared for him in every sense of the word. He enjoys giving you massages, kissing for long periods of time, maybe pulling you into his lap, or lying overtop you as he does so, and he loves giving oral. Giving you pleasure is as good for him as it is for you. Watching your face contort as you come undone, hearing the sounds of satisfaction pouring from your lips, tasting the most carnal and vulnerable parts of you with a grin of his own plastered over his face. Just, all of it. Preston loves every single bit of you, and his preference is to make you cum even before the main event really gets started.

If his partner is female (and honestly, even if you’re not, that probably won’t stop him from trying) Preston has always liked the idea of having a big family, so if the two of you are really serious, he’ll sheepishly bring up the idea of cumming inside you, if you're okay with it. He also loves body worship and giving praise, Preston is just such a sweet lover, he exists to make the one he cares for most feel loved, and satisfied, and above all things, good; and there’s not much more to it than that.

Participating in dirty talk isn’t really his strong suit, and he often bursts out laughing if he tries to reciprocate, but he does admit, hearing his partner’s breathy voice whispering profanities in his ear definitely tends to make his hips stutter and his breath hitch that much more.

Just as he enjoys the build-up to this most intimate of activities, Preston loves the slow come-down from it just as much, and no matter how slow and gentle he tends to be, aftercare is always a priority of his. He likes to take his time just as much after the fact as he did with the foreplay, often holding you close against him as you catch your breath, still joined with you as you both come down from your high, before slowly and reluctantly pulling away. Afterwards, he tenderly and meticulously looks after you, cleaning you up and getting you some water before settling at your side once again, wrapping his arms around you and whispering praises and declarations of his affections until you both inevitably fall asleep.

X6-88:

For X6, his tactics really are dependent on his partner. He's never done anything like this before you, never even considered it. So, he'll defer to your judgment on all of it. Particularly in the beginning, the communication is almost constant. He wants to know if he's doing everything correctly, if his hands are in the right place, if you like what he's doing with his mouth, if he should try and be more gentle, if you like the sounds that are unwittingly spilling from his lips, and the dirty questions he's asking you lowly through his gritted teeth. X6 likes to excel at whatever actions he's taking, whatever mission he's embarking on, and sex is no exception. If he can't watch his partner fall apart in response to his relentless ministrations more than once (at the very least) in a session, he considers it a failure. As such, you should definitely expect a bit of overstimulation from him, as the courser likes to be thorough in ensuring your pleasure. Whatever it takes.

Once he gets a handle on what you enjoy, X6 begins exploring his own preferences. The territory of his wants, especially in any sort of sexual context, is almost completely unknown to him; so now, here, with you, he decides to cross the threshold of his programming into the more… for lack of a better word, selfish realm of his own desires.

After such an occurrence, X6 decides that he likes to be the one in charge. You being at his mercy… The future Director of the faction that created him coming undone with the carefully calibrated flick of his wrist, or a well aimed thrust forcing his name from your lips… Even the thought of it brings a rare smile to the courser's lips, and a stirring sensation to the pit of his gut. He's never craved a relationship before, never sought after sexual release from another synth or courser, and especially none of the humans he’s known; and even on his own, by his own hand, X6 has never taken action to chase a pleasure he never thought his kind would be capable of, or have any need of. Now though… He finds that he disagrees with Father's statement that synths have no ability to want, because he does. He wants the person he’s with, wants you, like he’s never wanted anything before. The way you make him feel is strange, it’s unprecedented, but it’s also remarkably addicting.

There are some aspects of “lovemaking” that he actually finds himself quite enthralled with. He can get quite possessive of his partner, and he enjoys marking you beneath the sheets with his lips and teeth, on your neck or collarbone, or your thighs and chest as a show of his devotion to you, his claim over you. However, he does understand if you have boundaries, and will try to refrain from marking too high up on your neck where it would be easy for members of the Institute to see, if you ask him to. Though, he must admit, he finds it hard to bite back a wicked smirk when someone does bring up the marks in conversation, and you try to stammer out some excuse that you both know is bullshit. He likes to imagine the look on the Institute doctor’s faces if they were to find out the truth.

A romp in the sack with X6 is really an activity meant for the bolder individuals. He’s a courser after all, a feared and ruthless hunter who's designed to be mission driven, he has unmatched endurance and stamina, an aptitude to please his charge, and the attention to detail to be unreasonably adept at doing so. He can go for hours at a time, and he loves making a show of his proficiency in pleasing you by overstimulating you to the point of tears. Though, he understands better than most what the limits of the human body are, whether the threshold be for pain or pleasure, and he makes sure to never go beyond anything that makes the one he cares for feel uncomfortable or unsafe. No one's attention is more focused on your well-being than his. So, while he’s not overtly familiar with the concept of aftercare, or the softness that comes with it, X6 will try after a rougher session of lovemaking to make sure that his partner is taken care of, that he cleans you up properly and pays special attention to any physical points of concern on you. Your emotional well-being is a bit harder for him to influence, but once you let him know what you expect from him, X6 will do so without question. Often this just results in sticking by your side after the fact, speaking quietly about what he did, and what each of you enjoyed, and sometimes the occasional anecdote will spill from him as he strokes one hand over your arm or side as he holds you to his broad chest. He enjoys your warmth, and your companionship, he's just not always sure what to do with it, especially in the throes of uncharacteristic vulnerability he feels after being intimate.

So, it may take the courser a while to figure out what exactly sex is all about, what he likes, and how to best please his partner, but once he’s there, it’s bound to be thrilling. X6 knows your body better than even you seem to, he has inhuman stamina, he can read your body language like a book, and though his passion is new, it’s different, it’s unknown to him, it’s remarkably exciting. As mentioned, X6’s love isn’t for the faint of heart, and sometimes it requires patience and some unconventional or awkward communication on your part, but no matter his own uncertainty, even in the beginning, X6 will always manage to complete his mission with his partner. Usually a few times at least, before he’s finished with you.

[gingersnaaps]

sandman

to be taken by sleep really isn't such a bad thing - not when osamu's the one waiting in your dreams.

wc: 3.2k

tags/tw's(PLEASE READ): explicit n*fw, dubcon, creampie, breeding mentions, penetration, fingering, sex dreams, sleep paralysis, incubus!osamu vibes, vaguely supernatural, you fall asleep forever at the end, fem!reader with inner genitals

a/n: written for @ultimate-astridwriting's wonderful collab and inspired by my recent stint of sleep deprivation also i feel like i may have strayed a bit from the prompt but oh well

i don’t want minors interacting with my content

You can’t recall when Miya Osamu first started appearing in your dreams.

It was a subtle thing at first: the features of strangers, normally blurred beyond recognition, melded into his half-lidded eyes and soft smile, and you’d catch glimpses of his face in the reflection of windows and out of the corner of your eye. You didn’t think too much of it. You’d read an article somewhere that mentioned how faces in one’s dreams came from the interactions in our real lives, and with how much you’d been frequenting his onigiri shop, you suppose that his appearances were to be expected.

Still felt a little strange for you to be having a dream so intimate, though.

You’re lying on top of his broad chest, one arm on your waist, the other resting gently on your thigh. His thumb rubs tender circles into your skin, stroking softly as you rise and fall with the movement of his chest.

“‘Miya?” you ask tentatively. “How did I end up here?”

He chuckles. It’s a deep, rich, sound, one that reminds you of rivers running steady and full moons in the countryside, the vibrations passing from his body to yours. When he speaks, his voice is low and a little quiet, but with his lips grazing your ear, you don’t miss a single word.

“Call me Osamu.”

The familiarity leaves your face slightly flushed, embarrassment tingling across your skin. He shifts you around in his arms, tilting your body so that you meet his warm, inviting, gaze. The hand on your thigh seems to burn red-hot, and you wonder if he can hear the heartbeat pulsing just inches away from his fingertips.

He smiles softly at you. “You’re a beautiful girl.”

Your heart seizes, malfunctions, pounds erratically-

You wake up in the dark, damp sheets clinging to your skin, heart skipping like a schoolgirl and drunk off the compliment from your dream.

There’s a bad ache in between your legs. You trail a hand down your front, fingers sliding into your pajama shorts to quell your want.

-

Dusk is falling across Tokyo when you head to Miya’s - no, Osamu’s - onigiri shop. Twilight makes giants of the pedestrians, stretches out the shadows that loom tall in the soft gray-orange of the setting sun, the darkened shapes scurrying through the city’s rush hour.

Unlike them, you’re not going home.

A busy schedule meant little time for home-cooked meals, and the food here really was excellent. When you push open the door to his shop, the jangle of a bell sounds somewhere above you, and Osamu barely looks up before a smile settles on his face.

“The usual, I suppose,” he says, beckoning you inside.

You nod gratefully. The atmosphere of the shop is comforting - there’s just a few customers trickling through, picking up their to-go order that he’s prepared. You pick a seat near the window, one that gives you an unobstructed view of the sunset outside.

The chatter dies down as the last customers leave the shop, their onigiri clutched in hand, and a peaceful silence descends on the space around you. He brings out your food just a few minutes later, setting the dish in front of you.

“As requested by my favorite customer,” he says, a wry grin on his face. “Glad to have you back tonight.”

Your stomach flutters at the closeness between the two of you, and you suddenly feel embarrassed - ashamed of how much you’d been thinking about him, of the dreams you’d been having, of the way his touch had left you wanting for more in those same dreams - but it’s a good kind of embarrassed, one that leaves excitement bubbling in your core.

It feels a bit like a crush.

“Couldn’t miss out on the food, could I?” you reply.

“So you’re only here for my onigiri.”

“I- no, of course not."

“Just teasing.”

He smiles crookedly, and for just a moment, there’s a knowing glint that flashes in his eyes - the kind of expression that makes it seem like he’s aware of more than he’s letting on - but it vanishes almost immediately, passing too quickly for you to be sure of anything.

He turns to go back inside the kitchen, lifting up a hand casually to wave goodbye. “See you soon.”

-

Upon your arrival home, the first thing you notice is how very tired you are.

It’s not too out of the ordinary - it was a Monday afternoon, after all, and that had always been your least favorite day of the week - but the minute you crash onto the couch, your eyelids seem to droop with sleep, limbs growing heavy as the room around you swirls into a half-conscious haze.

You’ve still got chores to take care of. There’s dishes from the morning to wash, laundry to fold and put away, a few work emails to respond to that were probably very important, but you just can’t seem to stave off the overwhelming fatigue that seeps through your veins and numbs your entire body.

You need to sleep.

So you let it happen. You let your eyes flutter shut, let yourself relax and melt into the soft cushions of the couch, let your mind go nice and blank and empty.

After you give up the struggle of staying awake, the dreams come quickly.

“Glad to have you back so soon.”

The warm, quiet, voice from yesterday rumbles somewhere above you. You’re laying on his chest again, ear pressed to the soft fabric of his faded black shirt. You make a small, confused, noise, but he just laughs, gently brushing aside your hair, a hand trailing down your body and creeping closer to your inner thigh.

His touch feels electric. Every brush of his fingertips against your thigh, feather-light and teasing, leaves you with your heartbeat thudding in your cunt.

“We’ve gotta get you ready,” he murmurs. “Prep you well enough so that you’ll feel good when the time is right.”

You clench around nothing at his words, and maybe he can feel it with his hand so dangerously close to your pussy, because he smiles lazily and asks, “Are you that desperate?”

You’re not sure whether you should deny it - he can probably tell you are, anyway, but the thought of nodding, of saying yes, ‘Samu, want it so fucking bad - it leaves you with your cheeks flushed hot with shame.

He doesn’t need your explicit confirmation to read the way your body twitches against his, though, and he moves his hand lower to cup around your pussy. His palm is warm, the pressure steady and constant as he holds his hand still against your throbbing cunt. You can’t help but squirm against him, sloppily grinding your clit against his waiting hand, bucking your hips back and forth for any friction you can get. You’re panting, breaths quick and shallow as you feel the drag of the cotton panties in between his skin and yours, and a lewd moan tumbles from your lips. “Touch me,” you mumble, voice thick with arousal.

You look so pretty down there, hair mussed and mouth open slack in a perfect o, getting off all by yourself - he should give you a hand, shouldn’t he?

He nudges your damp panties aside, the thin fabric creasing the fat of your pussy as he brings a thumb up to your clit. His ministrations start slow, circling your clit patiently while you writhe from the pleasure, just barely dipping his index finger into your hole, his long, dextrous fingers skilled and patient as he works to search out the sensitive spots that leave you gasping and delirious.

“I want you dripping,” he says softly, sliding his finger inside all the way to the base of his knuckle. “Want you spread out on my hand, soaking me through, wet enough for me to fuck you full.”

You shudder with anticipation at his words, hips wriggling and rutting against his stiffening cock as his finger drags along the ridges of your g-spot. Every movement of his is accompanied by an embarrassingly audible squelching noise, your cunt already swollen and hot with arousal, your slick running in a cool trail down the crease of your thigh.

He flicks his thumb against your clit, this time more harshly. “ ‘m gonna fill you up so good when you’re ready,” he whispers. “Fuck you until your pussy milks my cock dry.”

Your eyelids flutter, a rush of pleasure crashing down on you as he pops another finger inside. Your hand fists at his shirt weakly, grabbing and pawing at the fabric as he curls his fingers just right inside you.

“You’re gonna feel so fucking good, sweetheart.”

You wake up from your dream as an orgasm ripples through your body, eyes flying wide open as you squirm and thrash on the couch. The pleasure coiling tight inside your core unwinds, pulsing in your cunt as you moan.

The room is dark and empty.

You rub the sleep from your eyes, vision bleary as you reach for your phone - it reads 7:00 AM. You’ve slept for almost twelve hours.

As you get up, swinging your legs off the couch and righting yourself, you notice one intense, overwhelming, feeling that roots you to the couch and leaves your limbs limp and loose:

You still feel so tired.

-

The rest of the week seems to pass by in a blur. You’re so exhausted you can barely think straight, stumbling from your office to your home - and sometimes to Osamu’s onigiri shop - going about your life half-dazed and barely conscious.

The only respite you get is in sleep.

Your dreams have gotten particularly intense as of late, head clouding full of visions where you’re fucked in every position: shoved up against the wall, facedown in the mattress, and even hoisted up on the counter. Through it all, there’s one constant.

Miya Osamu features in every single one of them.

You know his voice by heart now, a low, quiet, rumble that both soothes you and sets your cunt thrumming with anticipation. His silver-gray hair, his round, half-lidded eyes, the softness and the warmth of his body - they’re as familiar to you as your own features by now. You’re pretty sure you’ve even memorized the feeling of his cock buried deep inside you.

In every dream, he whispers the most tantalizing promises in your ear, breathing promises of how he’s gonna fuck you so good, sweetheart, gonna fill you up, gonna breed this pretty pussy until you’re carrying my seed inside you.

And even though you never wake up well rested anymore, you find that you don’t particularly mind. After all, there’s not much you look forward to in your waking hours. Every grating hour you spend working your stupid little job, or attending your lengthy, useless, lectures - it all feels like you’re just going through the motions, like you’re just trying to make it through so that night falls sooner and he can finally come visit you.

The week comes and goes, and soon enough, it’s already Friday.

You stumble in through the front door, a yawn itching at your throat, and you head straight for your bedroom. You pass by the ever-growing stack of dirty dishes in the sink, the stack of bills on the countertop, the laundry you’ve left in the drying machine. You’ll get to it next week.

For now, you just want to sleep.

The bedroom is gloomy and dim, grey light from an overcast twilight filtering through the blinds. The room feels stuffy in the dark, the four walls suffocating the small space, but you don’t bother with turning on the lights. Why would you, when you plan on heading straight to sleep?

You undress clumsily, almost tripping as you pull off your pants and shrug off your blouse, and stagger into the soft, warm, embrace of your bed.

A warm burst of comfort surges through you as the familiar feeling of drowsiness overtakes you. Your eyelids grow heavy, lashes fluttering slightly, the thump of your heart slowing - you’re right on the precipice between the conscious and the unconscious, straddling the border between sleep and waking -

You hear a voice sound from shadowy recesses of your room.

It’s a voice you’d recognize anywhere.

“I missed you at my shop today.”

You open your mouth to respond, but no noise comes out. It’s as if your vocal cords have been plucked from your throat, your voice frozen somewhere deep inside your trachea, and the only sound you can make is that of silence. A bit belatedly, you realize that you can’t move either, your limbs settling uselessly at your side as you lie paralyzed on your back.

A head of gleaming, silver, hair emerges in front of you, and your breath catches in your throat. You’re not sure if this is a dream anymore.

You blink once, and suddenly, you find him in your bed. He’s hovering above you, arms pressed to either side of your head, gazing down with a hungry, hungry, expression. He’s waited all week for this, sweetheart - won’t you finally indulge him?

He pulls the comforter aside, large hands gliding over your body and hoisting up your hips. You feel like a ragdoll in his hands, limp and immobile, and he rearranges your limbs and positions you until he gains easy access to your ready, waiting, cunt - the same cunt that he’s been preparing all week.

He drags a finger through your slick folds, already wet and sticky from the ministrations of the previous few days. There’s no need to bother with prep. He can already feel the way your cunt pulses at his touch, can see the need etched into the gleam of your eyes even as the expression on the rest of your face remains frozen.

His hand glides over his clothed cock, strained and throbbing with need as he pulls it out and strokes slowly, eyes fixated on your body the entire time. His dick is big, flushed almost purple as cream beads at the tip, balls fat and full and heavy.

Osamu’s had enough of waiting.

With a groan, he pops his cockhead into your drooling, twitching, hole, pushing in steady, thrusting all the way into your tightening cunt until he hits your cervix.

“Feels so fuckin’ good,” he murmurs, face scrunched with pleasure. “So tight it feels like you’re trying to milk me dry.”

He rolls his hips slowly, dragging his cock along the front of your walls, the ridge of a vein pressing right into your sweet spot. Your legs twitch uselessly as he pulls halfway out before slamming his cock back in.

“I wonder if you’d like that,” he muses. He brings a thumb to rest at your puffy, swollen, clit, pressing down in steady circles, his touch unrelenting and firm, sending spasms of pleasure that leave you clenching and gripping down onto his thick cock.

“I think you would. I think you’d love it if I filled you up, if I fucked you full of cum and bred this tight little hole,” he says, the barest hint of an amused smile tugging at his lips. His voice is calm and steady - a striking contrast to his filthy words, his brazen promises.

His slow, steady, strokes quicken, hips slamming roughly into yours, each thrust satiating the want in your cunt. Your walls pulse as if they need to be filled, squelching lewdly as he fucks you hard and deep.

He leans down. His lips hover millimeters away from your forehead, just barely grazing your skin with tender, light, kisses. “Take it,” he whispers, thumb rubbing harshly at your clit. “Take it like a good girl for me. I know you can.”

The kisses he presses to your forehead start to travel down the underside of your jaw, soft little nips and bites with his blunt teeth that leaves a trail of his glossy spit on your face. His mouth finds your ear.

“When I cum, you better not waste a single drop,” he breathes. “Wanna fill you up, make you mine. I want to own this pussy.”

He brings his hand down to pat your stomach where your womb would be, rubbing the soft surface of your skin in tender circles. His balls are aching so badly - he needs to cum, needs that release, needs to stuff your messy cunt.

“Cum with me,” he urges. “Right now.”

The pleasure pulsing inside you draws taught - snaps - and you’re pushed over the edge. If you were still capable of speaking and moving, you’re sure you’d be moaning loudly, hips twitching uselessly as he creams your pussy over and over. He fucks you through your orgasm, spent cock softening inside you as you squeeze his dick. After all, he doesn’t want any of it to leak. He wants it sloshing around in your hole, filling you up until you’re warm and wet and sticky, wants to breed you, to mark you down as his.

You look beautiful with your insides stained white, he thinks.

You can feel your cunt twitching slightly as you come down from your high. He smiles warmly, gives your pussy a little pat -

You blink and he’s gone.

Almost as if he was never there in the first place.

Sleep takes you quickly after that. You’re exhausted from being fucked, exhausted from the constant stimulation, and you quickly fall fast asleep. All is silent and still in your darkened bedroom.

-

The next day, right as the sun starts to drop over the horizon, glinting stars nestled in the sky high above, you find yourself back in front of Osamu’s onigiri shop.

It’s partly due to the hunger gnawing in your stomach, but it’s more out of curiosity than anything. You need to know if it’s real, if he’s real, if the past two weeks were nothing but a fever dream.

And you really want to see him again.

As you push open the door to his shop, you’re greeted with his friendly smile, as usual.

“Same thing again?” he asks.

“Of course.”

The exhaustion hasn’t gone anywhere. You’re still constantly tired, always drifting off during the daytime, limbs weary and worn. When you sit yourself down at the usual spot - the table near the window - that irresistible fatigue seems to creep up on you again.

It’s so calm and comforting in his little shop. The lights are warm, the view is pretty, the quiet chatter of his few customers soothing to your ears. It’s so easy to rest your head in between your hands, shoulders slumping, mind empty of every little unimportant thought, so easy to just close your eyes, so easy to fall into the rose-tinted haze of your nice, pleasurable, dreams.

Osamu comes out of the kitchen in the back of the shop, carrying your food on a plate, and finds you fast asleep with your head on his table.

He’s not surprised. In fact, he’s quite pleased.

In fact, if he has his way, you’ll never have to wake up again.

tyvm for reading!! i really appreciate reblogs and comments - it's part of what motivates me to keep making content :)

here's my masterlist if you'd like more.

[bexbaxx]

Silco x Reader: Peaky Blinders (2)

(I'm having too much fun writing this series! The previous part can be found here!)

It had been almost a week since you started working as a bartender at The Last Drop, and things had gone quite smoothly. Those on the Council hadn't probed you for any intel yet, knowing this investigation would be a long process.

You had learnt some new information, though.

For one, the man who hired you, Charlie, wasn't the owner of the bar like you had originally thought. It was Silco, who you very rarely saw while you were working, and when you did, he'd walk past the bar and up the stairs without so much as a glance towards you.

You had also learnt that upstairs led to his office, so you assumed the bar was a front for whatever actual business he was conducting.

You worked every single night since you started, and Charlie had confided that he hoped you would stick around longer than some of their past bartenders.

Apparently they went through them quite quickly. You tried not to worry about that too much.

Charlie had also confided that he was hoping to open up the bar to other Zaunites during the week, as there were some days that the regular patrons were... Preoccupied, with work. This left some nights completely empty.

He wouldn't dare tell Silco this himself, though, and he warned you only to speak to the man when you were spoken to.

Problem was, your mission was to make contact with your target.

As you were sweeping up the floor early in the afternoon on a Friday, trying to tidy the place up before customers starting pouring in through the door, you heard the telltale sound of someone walking down the stairs.

You had only seen Silco walk up there, and in an attempt to seize an opportunity to speak to him, you moved to the wall beside the stairs. When he hit the last step and moved through the door way, you accidentally bumped into him.

You feigned complete innocence, looking up at him. Silco wore his usual ensemble, complete with the heavy jacket you had seen him in previously, and a small frown as he watched you, curiosity present in his eye.

"I'm so sorry, sir!" You stammered slightly, holding the broom in front of you. He analysed you for a moment, an action that made you feel slightly ill, and you took the opportunity to speak again.

You introduced yourself by giving him your name, before continuing, "I just started here."

"I know who you are." He replied simply, still watching you very closely. Your heart skipped a beat and you wondered over his meaning. Surely, he didn't.

His stature was domineering, he stood quite proudly and with a strength you'd expect from someone with a lot of power.

You thought for a moment on what to say next, because he was still looking at you expectantly. When you could think of nothing, he spoke again.

"Do you have something to say to me?"

You guessed that it looked quite obvious that you were searching for something to say. Luckily, your earlier conversation with Charlie had given you an idea.

"Well..." You started, sheepishly looking away for a moment. "When I started here, Charlie told me the bar doesn't allow in anyone who isn't a regular customer."

You paused for a second to gauge his reaction, and when he still stood there with an unreadable expression, you continued, albeit hesitantly. "I think the bar should be open to anyone on some days during the week, when we don't see many customers. Charlie was too afraid to ask you."

Silco didn't reply straight away, and although you had spoken in a gentle manner as to not provoke him, you wondered if questioning him at all was a bad decision.

Finally, he responded. "But you're not?"

"I am." You confessed to him quickly, holding the broom in your hands a bit tighter. "But I think it would be good for business."

There's another, longer moment where he watched you, and you can't help but look towards his strange eye. You had never seen anything like that before, and you wondered how he had gotten it.

"Where are you from?" He asked you suddenly, and this time, you told him the truth, because the truth was why you were chosen for your mission in the first place.

"I was born here, in Zaun. My family and I moved away when I was a child."

He nodded, now looking away from you for a moment, towards the door.

"I'll think about it."

And he once again ended the conversation with you by walking away without another word, which left you feeling oddly flustered.

Thankfully, the bar was busy that night, and you and Charlie were up on your feet serving drinks and bantering with customers as you normally did.

Three bigger men sat at the bar, who's names you didn't know, but you remembered their faces from your first night on the job. As you placed three mugs of beer in front of them, they rowdily thanked you, before continuing on with their conversation.

The topic had caught your interest.

"Silco's gotta be fuckin' pissed about that, though." One of the men slurred. You pretended to busy yourself not too far from them, moving around some bottles.

"He's more than pissed. Another shipment gets completely destroyed like that? It's those damn Firelights."

If your ears could prick up, they would. You hadn't heard of the Firelights before, and couldn't remember anything in your brief mentioning them.

"I heard he's gonna start sending Jinx to those jobs, to make sure it doesn't happen again." The other two men groaned loudly.

"Fuck no, I hope not. Last job I did with her she almost killed me with her toys."

The three then moved on to a different topic, something about someone called 'Jinx', when another customer called out to you for a drink.

You thought back on what you had just heard as you served him. Silco was handling some kind of shipment, which was sabotaged, apparently more than once, by a group called the Firelights.

This was valuable information you'd remember to write down later, after work.

Three A.M rolled by quickly enough, and you were finishing up some cleaning so that you could close the bar for the night. Charlie had left an hour earlier, saying he had some other business to take care of, so he handed you the keys.

You could only guess what this "other business" was.

As you were cleaning out some of the glasses and drying them off, a noise from the entrance spooked you. When you turned, you saw Silco himself walking in, though, he looked slightly dishelved.

His clothes were slightly wet, and some of his hair had fallen in front of his face, which made you wonder if you hadn't realized it started raining outside.

"Get me something to drink."

He moved further into the room, and you hesitated for a moment, before deciding it was best to oblige him. You remembered the whiskey you had handed him previously, and began pouring it into a glass you had just cleaned.

His expression was hard to read, still, but you got the feeling he wasn't happy. He looked slightly dejected, with the faraway look in his eye.

Silco took the whiskey bottle you had set onto the bar, pulling you away from your thoughts, and turned to sit at one of the tables closest.

You moved around the bar and placed the glass in front of him as he sat down, now slightly unsure of what to do. The man's presence, even like this, was still very intimidating.

As he took a drink from the glass you set down, you asked him quietly. "Should I... Leave you alone?"

He looked up at you, tilting his head slightly. You got the impression that he had already been drinking before his arrival.

"I came here for company." He replied, moving to take something out of his jacket pocket. "Where's Charlie?"

You still stood in front of him, watching him curiously. "He had to leave early, said he had other business."

Silco hummed at that, a small case of cigars now in his hand. As he rummaged through another one of his jacket pockets, he spoke. "Sit."

You quickly obliged, sitting at the seat across from him, becoming increasingly nervous at your close proximity to him. You were more than aware that it was just the two of you, alone.

You both sat in silence for a couple of moments, as he fished out a lighter from his pocket and placed a cigar in his mouth. You couldn't help but watch him intently.

When he lit the cigar with ease, he spoke again.

"I was going to speak to him about your idea." He said, after taking the cigar from his mouth. You didn't know what he meant by that, if it was an implied threat against Charlie, so you said nothing.

Silco settled to watching you again, like he was analyzing your every reaction. "You think it would be good for business?"

The way he said it made you think he was completely disinterested in the bar, and now that you knew he was conducting other, apparently more important business, you understood why.

"I do." You responded, nervously fidgeting with your hands under the table. "All the other places I worked at were open to everyone. It's good for people. And it'll keep Charlie and I busy."

His response was almost immediate. "You never worked up at the Promenade, so don't lie to me."

You felt your heart stop suddenly, and your hands began to shake slightly, though you couldn't look away from him.

"I asked around up there, I know the owners of those establishments. No one has heard of you."

He's watching you intensely now, with a slight frown, as he takes another drag of his cigar. It was a detail that had gone overlooked in your cover up, because neither you nor anyone else believed you'd be in such close contact with him so soon.

But, he knew. He knew you were a liar. And now you had no idea what he'd do next. You open your mouth to respond, trying to think of some way to play it off, but he spoke first.

"My guess is..." He started, pausing to finish the glass you had set on the table, before grabbing the bottle and pouring another one. "You disgraced your family in Piltover, and when you moved back here, they disowned you." You were a bit stunned by his presumption. "You had nowhere else to go."

After a moment of uncertainty, you quickly realized he had given you an out, whether he intended to or not. You looked away from him, feigning a look of shame.

"It's not something I want known." You confessed, quietly. When you looked back up, he was still watching you, a hint of recognition in his expression.

There was another long moment of silence between you two, and he took another drink.

"Come with me to the Piltover Opera House tomorrow night. Find a nice dress to wear."

You're once again stunned by the man and his ability to keep you constantly guessing his motives. Your reply left your mouth before you could think.

"You won't tell anyone my secret?"

He considered you for a moment. "Do you think I tell people things?"

You thought on it for a second, before realizing, no. He didn't seem like the type of man to give away secrets, in fact, he appeared to have some of his own, too.

"I don't have a nice dress." You confessed, which was the truth, you hadn't exactly brought along your whole wardrobe when you moved down to the Undercity.

"Take the day off tomorrow, and go pick one out." He stuck his hand back into his jacket pocket, and then placed a small pouch of coin onto the table. You moved to take a closer look, and your eyes widened at the amount inside.

"Then, I'll tell Charlie to open this place up to everyone, Monday through Wednesday."

You realized he was conducting a business deal with you, and that he'd be getting something out of this in return. He didn't care about the bar. Something was happening at the Piltover Opera House tomorrow, that he needed you there for.

Of course, you accepted his deal. (@enzydamz, @htmlbitxh, @viktors-lover, @potato-dragons, @urfictional, @sana-within-you, @sukurachiidee and@findinghiddentruths asked to be tagged! Hope you guys enjoyed this as much as I did!)

[bellakitse]

To Love is to Know You

“Carlitos got hurt at work,” she whispers, her face pale and frightened. “He got shot, and they are rushing him to the hospital.”

+

When Carlos gets hurt on the job, his parents find out about the important parts of his life he’s been keeping from them, mainly the man he’s in love with.

Gabriel Reyes' POV

*there is accidental outing in this since this isn’t how Carlos planned on telling his parents.

6.3k

They’ve settled in for the night and are in the middle of watching a movie their son recommended when the phone rings.

“Carlos really likes this?” he questions skeptically as more blood goes spraying across the screen.

His wife chuckles at his tone even as she winces at the scream the protagonist lets out for the 100th time.

“He’s young, Gabriel. I don’t think we’re actually supposed to like what Carlitos likes,” she tells him as she leans across the couch, reaching for her phone. She turns to him with a smile as she shows him the caller ID. “Hablando del diablo,” she says fondly before pressing talk on their son calling.

“Tell him I’m questioning his choices,” Gabriel jokes, pausing the movie as Andrea says hello with a smile. He watches as that smile quickly drops, his heart seizing in his throat as she lets out a gasp and a shaky ‘what?’ to whoever she’s speaking to. It’s obvious now that it’s not their boy.

He waits for her to end the call with a fearful ‘we’ll be there soon’ before she turns to him with tears in her eyes.

Even before she speaks, he knows, and his hands shake as they reach for hers.

“Carlitos got hurt at work,” she whispers, her face pale and frightened. “He got shot, and they are rushing him to the hospital.”

 ֎֎֎

 The drive to the hospital is both short and the longest drive Gabriel Reyes has ever had behind the wheel. Next to him, Andrea grips the rosary his mama gave her after they got married. She doesn’t pray, though, and he thinks she’s too worried to remember any prayer at the moment.

“He’s going to be okay,” he tells her, his voice rougher than he would typically use with his sweetheart, but he can see her starting to spiral, and he needs her to focus on his voice and not on all the troubling thoughts he knows are running through her head at the moment. “Carlos is young and strong. He’s going to be fine, he –”

“Is our baby boy,” she whispers, looking at him with those big brown eyes, so like Carlos’ when he was little, looking at him to make everything okay.

“El va estar bien, amor,” he tells her softly, willing himself to believe it too.

He pulls into the hospital parking lot. They quickly exit the car, holding hands as they rush towards the doors and the front desk. He’s sure they both look a fright as they ask the girl behind the counter for information.

“Mr. and Mrs. Reyes,” calls out a tired voice to them, and when they turn around, they find a familiar-looking young man with brown hair and green eyes standing before them in an EMS uniform.

Gabriel is struck by his eyes. They’re wide, the worry in them plain to see, and it’s obvious he’s been crying by how pink and puffy they are.

“I’ve been waiting for you both; I didn’t want you to get lost,” he tells them, pointing to a door at the far end of the hall to the left. “We’re in there.”

“How’s Carlitos?” his wife asks at the same time as he says. “We’ve met you before.”

“Uh – yes – you have, sir. I’m TK,” he answers with a grimace. Gabriel knows it is the young man’s effort to smile but just can’t. “We met at the farmer’s market about nine months ago.”

TK turns to Andrea, his expression softening instantly. “They took Carlos to the back when we got here, ma’am, but we haven’t heard anything yet.”

“What happened?” he asks TK and is struck again by how expressive his eyes are. Gabriel sees pain, fear, frustration, and anger cross his face.

“We were answering a call to a disturbance; a man was threatening to set fire to his ex-bosses place and was holding them hostage inside. He was armed, so Carlos and the rest of APD went in first,” TK takes a pause, swallowing hard, and Gabriel is struck by how the young man is keeping it together when it’s undeniable that it’s difficult for him to do so. “Shots were exchanged, and the suspect was neutralized but not before he hit Carlos.”

“Where?” he asks, hoping against hope that his son was wearing his vest. TK’s face, scared and apologetic, tells him it doesn’t matter.

“T – the,” TK clears his throat, lifting a hand to run through his hair. Gabriel catches the slight shake of it. It’s not the only thing he spots on them. Though mostly clean, Gabriel notices specks of blood on them. Looking him over once more, he sees some on his uniform too. “The neck, sir.”

Andrea lets out a gasp, bringing her hand to her mouth to try and muffle the sound.

“You worked on him,” Gabriel realizes. He needs to focus on something other than the information they’ve just been given.

“Yes,” TK answers, biting down on his lip to the point that Gabriel wants to wince at how painful it looks. Given the redness of his mouth, the kid has probably been doing it a while now. “My Captain didn’t want it to be me – ” TK stops.

He takes a breath, collecting himself. “We stabilized him on the field and then brought him over. My Captain is here if you want to speak with her while we wait for the doctors.”

They follow the young man down the hall into a private room, and Gabriel is shocked to see how full it is with first responders, most still in uniform like TK. Everyone seems to turn to look at them when they walk in.

“These are Carlos’ parents,” TK explains to the crowd before turning to a tall woman with a sympathetic but no-nonsense look on her face. “Captain Vega, could you – ” he gestures towards them.

The Captain nods, standing from her seat to walk over to them. She has a bag with her that she hands over to TK.

“Nancy brought your stuff from your locker,” she says to the kid with a kind smile. She places her hand on his shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “Why don’t you go change while I speak with Carlos’ parents.”

TK nods, looking relieved. “Yeah, Cap, thanks.” He turns towards them, looking like he wants to say something else but doesn’t. Instead, he gives them a small nod and walks away, leaving them with his Captain.

Gabriel focuses on her, reaching out to hold his wife’s hand as Captain Vega goes through the emergency in more detail. She’s compassionate but honest as she breaks down her assessment of Carlos’s injuries on the scene and their handling of it.

“TK is one of the finest medics I have ever worked with,” she tells them, with something akin to pride in her voice. “And it’s Carlos. He wasn’t about to lose him,” she continues softly, knowing. “We got him here, and they’ve had him in the back for the last hour. I’m sure they’ll come out and tell us something soon. All we can do now is wait, unfortunately.”

“And pray,” Andrea whispers thickly.

“Never a bad idea,” she says with a small, understanding smile. She looks away from them when someone calls her name, an older man in uniform walking towards them.

“Tommy, any word? Where’s TK?” he asks, rushed.

“Nothing yet,” she answers the man whose uniform says, Captain Strand. “And TK is changing. We didn’t want him to still be in the uniform that – “ she pauses, her eyes drifting to them.

“Right,” Captain Strand nods before his blue eyes turn towards them. Gabriel watches as he quickly recognizes who they are. “Mr. and Mrs. Reyes?” he questions, exhaling loudly when he answers him with a nod.

“Owen Strand, TK’s dad,” he says, extending his hand to Andrea first and then him. “Nice to finally meet you. I’m sorry it can’t be under better circumstances.”

Gabriel cocks his head at the peculiar comment.

“You work with our son?” Andrea asks politely, probably trying to distract herself from the worry she’s feeling.

“Often,” Owen gives them an honest smile. “He’s one hell of a police officer, good instincts, good head on his shoulders, strong,” he tells them intentionally. “He’s going to come through this just fine.”

Gabriel appreciates the comment, if anything, because it makes Andrea smile for the first time since they heard the news.

“Why don’t we sit down,” Owen continues. “We’re going to be here a while,” he points towards three firefighters with the same 126 insignia he has on his clothes, and they quickly get up, giving them the space. “Maybe we can get you some coffee or tea?”

He shakes his head but nods towards Andrea. “Some tea might be good for your nerves, vieja.”

Andrea nods absently, and Owen turns his head towards the trio who gave them their seats. “Strickland, Marwani, Chavez – “

“On it, Cap,” says the young Latino whose chest tag says, Chavez. “We’ll get for everyone.”

Owen offers the kid a grateful smile. “Get TK a sandwich. I know he hasn’t eaten.”

“He might not want to,” says the other man in the group with a deliberate look.

“We’ll sit on him and force him if we have to,” answers the young woman in the headscarf with a glint in her eyes that tells him she’s not joking. Gabriel watches them leave the room.

“They’re good kids,” Owen comments, catching his gaze. “They care about Carlos very much,” he says with a soft laugh. “Probably because he’s always feeding them when they hang out at his place.”

Andrea smiles at the comment, but Gabriel finds it curious. He doesn’t find it strange that his son would be welcoming. Like his mother, Carlos has always strived to make everyone feel at home. He is just surprised that his son is so close with this particular firehouse and its members.

TK comes back into the room in a hoodie and sweats, looking around. Gabriel watches as his eyes land on them before moving over to his father. He watches as the kid’s shoulders drop at the sight of his dad and quickly makes his way over, almost plowing into him as Captain Strand stands with his arms open, circling them around his boy.

“He’s gonna be okay,” he hears him whisper into his son’s ear. “Carlos wouldn’t leave you, you know that.”

Gabriel takes a sharp breath at the words; he looks over at his wife, seeing that her eyes have gone wide as she stares at the father and son with a newfound gaze, and he knows she’s caught it too.

Before they can come to terms with what it might mean, a doctor in green-colored scrubs walks in with a manila folder in hand. “I’m looking for Officer Reyes’ family?” he questions, startling as everyone stands or looks over at him.

Gabriel is surprised himself but warmed by the idea that so many people care about his son. “Over here,” he calls the doctor over. “We’re his parents.”

The doctor nods in response, crossing the distance between them until he’s standing in front of them, TK and his father joining in. “We’ve stabilized your son enough to move him,” the doctor starts. “He’s in the O.R. now; we’re repairing the damage. He was lucky that the bullet didn’t hit his carotid artery.”

“Is he going to be okay?” Andrea rushes to ask, fear coloring her question.

“We’re doing everything we can, ma’am,” the doctor answers softly with a sympathetic look. “He’s holding strong and was brought in quickly.”

“When can we see him?” he asks, his heart dropping at the shake of the doctor’s head.

“It’s going to be a while,” he answers. “We’re not sure how long it will be in the O.R., and then in recovery, it’s going to be a couple of hours.”

Gabriel feels the room deflate around him at the answer and feels the same.

“For now, I need his next of kin to sign off on some waivers,” the doctor continues as he looks inside his folder, reading out of it. “Who is Tyler Kennedy Strand?” he asks, the question filling the room with sudden tension.

“Uhh – me,” TK stammers, his eyes going to him and Andrea awkwardly. “But his parents – “

The doctor cuts him off with a shake of his head. “Officer Reyes’ work forms have you as the one with the power of attorney over any medical decisions on his behalf. You are aware of this, yes?”

TK looks pained and uncomfortable, apologetic even as he looks at Andrea before nodding. “Yes,” he says softly. “Carlos and I spoke about it a few months ago.”

“Then I need you to come with me, Mr. Strand,” the doctor answers, his eyes shifting over to them as well. “It’s just a formality, you understand.”

TK nods again, gesturing for the doctor to go first, following him out of the room, leaving the rest of them in silence, and he and Andrea stunned.

“They’re involved,” he states, not sure to who, but he catches Captain Strand’s slight wince.

“TK will explain when he comes back in,” he assures them, though Gabriel isn’t sure what he would have to explain. It’s pretty obvious the kid is someone important enough to his son that he would leave him in charge of his care if anything happened to him, and he and his wife know nothing about him.

Andrea reaches for his hand. When he looks at her, he sees the same confusion and hurt in her eyes he’s feeling. He squeezes it reassuringly as they retake their seats, neither knowing what to say.

They stay like that, silently waiting for TK or the doctor to come back. Owen walks away from them, drifting towards the other Captain.

After a few minutes, the ones who walk in are the trio of firefighters the Captain sent out for a snack.

“Te de manzanilla,” Chavez says with a boyish smile as he hands the cup of tea to Andrea. “My Abuela says it’s good for nerves.”

Andrea takes it but doesn’t drink right away. “Thank you – um?”

“Oh! I’m Mateo,” he answers before pointing at the other two who are finishing handing out bottles of water and coffees. “That’s Paul and Marjan. We’re friends of Carlos,” he says with another friendly smile as they come over to them.

“Nice to meet you all,” Andrea answers, elbowing him in the side to do the same.

Gabriel checks out, his mind drifting while his wife picks up the slack and chats with the trio, exchanging small talk. He only tunes in when Mateo asks about their new filly.

“You know about Sally?” he questions, frowning, confused. He gets a few nods from all of them and smiles.

“Carlos showed us pictures of her the last time we were over at his and TK’s place for dinner.”

Gabriel can’t help the sharp breath he takes at the comment.

“They live together?” Andrea asks, shocked, her voice above a whisper.

“Oh,” Paul says softly, his eyes widening with realization at their lack of knowledge. He exchanges worried looks with the young woman Mateo called Marjan. Both open their mouth as if to speak and then stop at a loss for words. Luckily for them, TK walks back into the room, making his way towards them.

“Guys, could you give me a second with Mr. and Mrs. Reyes?” he asks politely but firmly.

“Yeah, of course, man,” Paul says quickly, while Marjan tugs on Mateo to stand, moving away. Paul starts to follow them, only to stop and look at TK, speaking again with an apologetic look on his face. “We’re sorry, we didn’t know – “

TK waves him off, a half a smile on his tired face. “Don’t worry about it, Paul.”

Paul gives him a nod, looks at them, and nods again before walking away.

“I’m sure you have a lot of questions,” TK tells them softly, biting down on his lip for a moment before taking a breath, straightening his shoulders. “I’ll do my best to answer them. Should we find somewhere a little more private?”

He looks over at his wife and finds her studying TK with a curious eye. He’s not surprised. He’s more than curious himself about this man who is important enough in his son’s life to be making decisions of life and death for him and apparently living with him. “I think that might be best.”

TK nods mostly to himself, motioning for them to follow him.

He leads them out into the hallway and into another room that Gabriel realizes is the chapel.

“Is this okay?” TK questions nervously. “I don’t want to be disrespectful,” he gestures towards the altar.

“It’s fine, TK,” Andrea assures him.

They take a seat together towards the back of the room, TK sitting across from them.

Nobody says anything for a long moment. He sits watching TK as he taps his foot, and Andrea plays with her hands, struck by the similar nervous motions. He recognizes as TK looks at them with a worried wrinkle between his brow, he doesn’t know where to start, and Gabriel is struck by how young he looks like this. It reminds him of Carlos’ nervous habits growing up, so concerned with disappointing them.

“How long have you and our son been together?” he questions, ripping off the bandaid.

“We’ve been dating for over a year,” he answers honestly, wincing when Andrea lets out a shocked sound. “But we’ve known each other for over a year and a half. It took a while for us to get – us, right.”

“A year?” Andrea questions, surprised and more than a little sad. “He’s kept this from us for a year?”

“He didn’t mean to,” TK rushes to explain – to defend their son to them, Gabriel realizes. He stops looking nervous, and Gabriel can honestly feel the wave of protectiveness coming off the young man.

While the part of him that isn’t still shocked at this sudden news is pleased that Carlos has found someone obviously loyal to him, another part of him is at a loss at being someone this young man thinks he needs to protect his son from. It leaves an unpleasant feeling in his stomach he tries to push down before he reacts in a way that he’ll regret later.

“Then what did he mean?” he questions, trying to understand. “Because if you guys have been dating for a year, that means you two were together when we met you at the market, and he called you a friend from work.”

He feels bad as his words cause the kid to flinch, and a small cynical smile twists his lips upward for a second.

“Yeah, that caused a big fight between us,” he answers dryly. “Look, this is something you need to talk about with Carlos when he comes to. We both knew it was a long time coming, and trust me, he’s been working up the nerve to tell you both about us.”

“Why would he need to work up the nerve?” Andrea questions while Gabriel watches as TK’s eyes flash, his hands curling for a moment. He’s struck by the fleeting anger he sees there – at them.

“Because you’re both more traditional, and he didn’t want to rub your noses in our relationship,” he answers tightly, making Andrea gasp.

Gabriel feels his hackles raise at the resentment he hears in the words. “Hey now, you don’t get – “

“Carlos’ own words,” TK interrupts, his voice sharp enough to stop him. TK stops too, taking a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment.

“I apologize,” he starts again, his voice calmer. “It’s not my place at all, and Carlos needs to be the one to explain this to you.”

Gabriel exchanges a glance with his wife, letting out a sigh when she gives him a serious look. He turns towards TK again, taking a calming breath of his own. “But he’s not here right now, and we’d like to understand.”

TK lets out a sigh, nodding at them after a moment. “You’re right,” he agrees quietly, running a hand through his hair. “I just really wish he was here, though,” he pauses, the pain and love in his eyes as he speaks striking a core with him. This man loves his son. That much is clear.

“Okay, first things first. Carlos loves you both so much,” he tells them reassuringly. “He speaks of both of you with so much respect and admiration. Please don’t doubt that for one second. He didn’t keep us a secret from you because he doesn’t love or respect you.”

“Then why?” Andrea asks, trying to understand.

TK presses his lips together, giving her a helpless shrug of his shoulder. “Because he was scared of upsetting you, of disturbing the tentative peace that the three of you have had since he rocked your world by telling you he was gay at 17, and then none of you ever spoke about it again. He didn’t want to disappoint you.”

By TK’s expression, Gabriel knows that he hasn’t just spoken with any malice, yet he still feels his words hit him like a punch.

“But – that’s,” he stumbles at a loss for words. “Carlos could never disappoint us,” he looks at Andrea to find her with tears in her eyes. “We love our son.”

TK gives him a smile; it’s kind and understanding. “I don’t doubt that,” he tells them, looking at Andrea. “He’s so easy to love, of course, you love him.”

“You love him,” Andrea says in awe, still crying, but it feels different than before, almost happy in the middle of the hurt.

TK’s eyes fill with tears; they spill over even as he gives them a bright smile. “More than I have ever loved anyone in my life, ma’am. He is everything to me.”

Gabriel hears how much he means it in his voice and instantly remembers something from earlier. “You worked on him at the scene,” he exhales over a dull ache in his chest at the thought. “Jesus Christ, kid, how did you – “

“The worst moment of my life,” TK whispers, losing his smile, his bottom lip trembling. “And life has thrown some curveballs my way,” he inhales deeply in an effort to control his emotions. “But I wasn’t about to lose him, not like that and not now. We have our whole lives ahead of us, and I plan to spend mine with your son.”

Gabriel hears the conviction and the subtle threat he’s issuing them. He’s telling them he’s not going anywhere, and while a small part of him wants to be annoyed at the warning, Gabriel finds himself mostly impressed. He finds himself liking the kid despite the situation.

“You love him so much,” Andrea whispers, shaking her head to herself. Knowing his wife, she’s mourning the fact that they’ve missed out on seeing it. “And he loves you?”

TK nods quickly. “He never lets me doubt it, not for one single second,” he swallows before another smile takes over his face, soft and involuntary. “He’s wonderful.”

“I’m so sorry we’ve missed it,” she tells him, and Gabriel smiles to himself at how easy he can still read her. “It was never our intent to make Carlos feel like he couldn’t share with us his life. When he told us he was gay, yes, it was a surprise, but we never loved him less,” she frowns, letting out a soft breath. “We wanted him to feel like nothing had changed, and instead, we made him feel like he couldn’t talk to us.”

“But he can,” he continues for Andrea, hoping TK will understand.

Andrea nods in agreement. “He can,” she repeats. “We want to be part of the life he’s building with you.”

TK smiles. It’s wobbly but iridescent as it lights up the room. “He – we would like that very much,” he tells them, chuckling softly. “You have no idea how much I’ve wanted to know you both. You need to tell him when he wakes up.”

Andrea looks fearful again as she turns from TK to him and back again. “What if – “

“No,” TK answers resolutely. He holds out his hand for Andrea, covering it when she places it in his. “Carlos is going to be fine. He’s not leaving us.”

Gabriel watches them hold each other’s hands, his wife taking comfort from the man in love with their son, and hopes, for all their sakes, that he will turn out to be right.

 ֎֎֎

 The next three days are the longest of Gabriel’s life. After over seven hours of surgery and recovery, they’re allowed to see a sleeping Carlos.

If there was any doubt in his mind about TK’s feelings for his son, they’re wiped out the moment he sees him at his bedside. The way he takes his hand in his, holding it for dear life as he whispers in his ear that he loves him and that he’s there, that they all are.

They wait, hours and hours they wait for Carlos to wake up. The doctors tell them the surgery was successful, and now they just have to wait for Carlos’ body to recover enough for him to wake up. They’re not sure when that’ll be.

He walks into his son’s hospital room after taking a call from work to find TK alone with Carlos, his wife nowhere in sight.

“You know, sweetheart, if this is payback for the time I got shot and ended up in a coma, then message received,” TK talks to a sleeping Carlos, bringing his hand to his lips. “You can wake up now because I’ve learned my lesson.”

“You were shot?” he questions, raising an eyebrow, wondering exactly what these two have been through.

TK blinks up at him. He lowers Carlos’ hand but doesn’t let go. “Yeah,” he nods, clearing his throat. “Before Carlos and I officially got together, it was a house disturbance gone wrong, an accident, but I got hit in the chest and ended up in an eight-day coma. Carlos had to sit through it, the eight worse days of his life, he likes to remind me,” he turns back to Carlos, his expression softening. “I really didn’t need to learn the hard way how this feels.”

Gabriel makes a sound at the back of his throat. He takes the seat he’d been occupying next to Andrea, finding her purse still there.

“She went to the restroom and to get something to drink,” TK tells him. “I told her I would stay with Carlos.”

Gabriel nods in understanding, and the room goes quiet as neither says anything else. They both just watch Carlos, focusing on the rise and fall of his chest. His eyes stray to TK —his focus on Carlos, the way he reaches out to touch his skin like he can’t bear letting him go for a moment for fear he’ll slip away. The last few days, he and Andrea have gotten to know the kid better, along with the rest of his crew.

Their love for each other and their love for Carlos is evident in every gesture and kind word they have to say about him. It still hurts him to know he and Andrea have missed so much. As he laid in bed holding his crying wife, more than a few tears slipped his own eyes at the lost time. Every day that passes, he promises to fix it when his son wakes up.

“You know, when he was around ten, he convinced his cousin to help him up the stallion at the farm,” he starts telling him, lost in the memory. “And this was a rough horse, even I didn’t ride him much, but he got on, and the thing, of course, sent him flying,” he shakes his head to himself. “He was knocked out maybe five minutes, but they were the longest five minutes of my life.”

“Was he okay?” TK questions, concerned even though it obviously turned out okay in the end.

“A fractured arm,” he answers, chuckling. “As soon as the cast was off, he was right back at it – this time bribing the horse with apples, carrots, and beetroots until he won him over. By the end, it would only let Carlos ride him. He was so smug about it, tipping his hat at us as he rode him.”

TK grins from ear to ear. “Tell me there are pictures of him in the hat.”

Gabriel stands, pulling out his wallet. He fishes out an old worn picture, passing it over to TK. He watches as the boy takes gentle care, running his index finger over the image as he smiles down at it.

“Damn, that’s cute,” he murmurs, handing back the picture after a moment longer. “You know, he won me over with patience too.”

Gabriel raises an eyebrow at the comment, waiting for him to continue.

“When he and I met, I wasn’t in a good place emotionally,” TK starts to tell him as he looks back at Carlos, reaching up to brush his hair back. “I’d gotten out of a relationship that left me messed up, and I wasn’t looking for anything serious. I hurt his feelings at the beginning, and honestly, he should have just cut his losses.”

He looks over at him. “But Carlos doesn’t give up on people, especially when they’re hurting, so he became my friend, someone I could trust with the not-so-great parts of me. He never judged. He just cared about me more, making sure I knew that I was worth the effort even when I wasn’t so sure of that myself,” he smiles as he retakes Carlos’ hand. “He loves me even when I don’t always love myself.”

“I’m sure you do the same for him,” Gabriel answers. Even with Carlos asleep, he’s seen enough to know the two of them genuinely love each other. Now he just wants his son to wake up so he can see it for real.

“I try,” TK answers. “He makes it easy.”

“Do you think he’ll forgive us?” he can’t help but ask, the question playing in his head the last few days as he learned more of the parts of his life Carlos felt the need to keep to himself for their comfort.

TK frowns as he looks at him, shaking his head slowly. “Carlos will tell you there is nothing to forgive. He doesn’t blame you.”

“He should, though,” he can’t help but argue, feeling frustrated, angry tears at the back of his throat. Fear clawing its way back after three days of waiting for his boy to open his eyes and wondering if it will ever happen. “He was 17, a kid, scared but brave as he told us his truth, and while we accepted it at that moment, we didn’t make sure he knew that it would always be okay with us. That’s on us. We should have done better.”

“Do better now, Gabriel,” TK says to him quietly, shrugging his shoulder when he looks at him, his expression nothing but kind. “Forgive yourself, because Carlos never blamed you to begin with, and do better now.”

“Are you always so wise, kid?” he asks, smiling when TK lets out a bark of laughter.

“That is the last word anyone who knows me would use to describe me,” he shakes his head, still giggling. “Usually, it’s stubborn or reckless. Carlos has been known to call me a brat quite a few times,” he says fondly as he looks down at the bed.

“Because you always get your way,” Carlos rasps out, eyes still closed.

Gabriel isn’t sure who’s gasp is louder, his or TK’s as they both stand to get closer.

“Carlos? Sweetheart?” TK asks, cautious but hopeful, and Gabriel holds his breath as he waits to see if Carlos is genuinely back with them.

It takes a minute, maybe two, maybe three, but slowly Carlos opens his eyes.

“Hi, sweetheart,” TK whispers, tears falling even as he smiles widely down at Carlos.

Gabriel watches as his son frowns as he tries to weakly reach up to touch TK’s face. TK helps him, lifting his hand and holding it against his cheek.

“Don’t – cry, Ty,” Carlos gets out slowly, brushing his thumb under TK’s eye, earning a wet laugh from him.

“I love you so much,” he says to him, and though he’s obviously tired and in pain, the smile Carlos gives TK is the brightest Gabriel has ever seen.

“Love you too, amor,” his son whispers back to his boyfriend, sounding just as hopelessly in love with him. It reminds Gabriel of him and Andrea, and he can’t help the small sound that escapes his throat.

“Dad – “ Carlos says softly, surprised as his eyes find him; they shift back to TK, concern coloring his expression.

“It’s okay, babe. I promise,” TK assures him with a smile as he gives his hand a squeeze.

“It is mijo,” Gabriel tells him, hoping to wipe away the slight fear he sees in his son’s eyes. He never wants to be the cause for that look again.

TK looks over to him, smiling at him reassuringly, and Gabriel remembers what he said to him moments before Carlos woke up. Forgive and be better.

“I’m gonna go find Andrea and a doctor,” TK declares, giving him a nod. He turns back to Carlos, leaning down to kiss him on the forehead. “I’ll be right back.”

TK steps away from Carlos, squeezing Gabriel’s arm as he walks by him before leaving the room, leaving him alone with his son.

Turning back to Carlos, he finds him still looking concerned as he stares at him, and that simply won’t do for him. He shifts over to where TK had been standing, now next to Carlos. “How do you feel?” he questions gently, getting a tiny shrug back.

“Tired,” Carlos gets out, his voice raspy. “Thirsty.”

“Oh! Of course,” Gabriel says quickly, turning to grab the pitcher of water on the bedside counter and a cup. Filling it, he turns back to Carlos, raising his bed a bit before bringing the straw to his lips. “Slowly, mijo.”

Carlos does as he asks, all the while looking at him. After he’s had his fill, Gabriel pulls the cup away, putting it back on the counter. He reaches out to his son, running a hand over his curls like he would do when he was a little boy.

“You scared the hell out of us, kid,” he whispers, swallowing hard as the last couple of days catch up to him. “We were so scared we were gonna lose you.”

Carlos leans into his touch. As he closes his eyes, a tear rolls down his cheek. “Sorry, pop.”

“No, I’m sorry,” Gabriel shakes his head. He takes Carlos’ hand. “These last few days have shown your mom and me how much of your life we have missed, and we’re so sorry.”

“Dad – “ Carlos tries. “I – “

“We messed up, Carlos,” he continues, needing to get it out. “We thought we were keeping things normal by not making a big deal out of you coming out, and instead, what we did was make you believe that you needed to keep parts of your life a secret for us to be comfortable. But our comfort isn’t the most important thing. Your happiness is, and as long as you’re happy, so are we.”

Carlos’ eyes fill with more tears, and Gabriel is struck by how young he seems as he looks up at him hopeful.

“We met your boyfriend,” Gabriel chuckles fondly. “I mean, obviously. He’s pretty special, Carlitos. You picked a good one.”

Carlos laughs. It’s wet from tears but joyful. “I picked the best one.”

Gabriel smiles at the pride he hears in his son’s voice. “We’d like to get to know him, son,” he says. It’s a hope and a request in one. “Your mom and I, we’d like to know him and you,” he swallows hard as his eyes burn. “We love you so much, but loving someone isn’t always knowing them. If it’s okay with you, we’d like a chance to fix that now.”

Carlos stares at him, mouth open, and there is the slightest tremble of his bottom lip.

“Carlitos.”

He and Carlos turn their heads to the door where Andrea and TK stand together. Carlos smiles at his mom, the smile growing when he notices that she’s holding hands with TK.

“Mami,” he says softly.

Andrea walks towards them, tugging TK along with her. Reaching the bed, she reaches out to touch his face. “Baby,” she whispers, shaking her head as she tries not to cry. “Please never scare us like this again.”

Carlos lets out an amused huff, closing his eyes for a second. “I’ll try, Ma.”

“Good,” Andrea grins at him, amused by his tone. “And you better be ready to be smothered for a while. TK and I have been making plans. We’re not letting you out of our sight.”

“We have a shifts chart,” TK teases him, sharing a grin with Andrea.

Gabriel watches with amusement as Carlos looks scared again, this time at the team he sees being created before his very eyes. He laughs, happy and relieved, when Carlos turns to him for support.

“I wouldn’t fight it, kid,” he warns him. “You know how your mother is, and your boyfriend seems just as bad; just accept it. They’re bonded. We all have.”

Carlos looks around at all three of them, the contentment he sees in his son’s expression, a blessing, and Gabriel knows it’s going to be okay. There is still a lot of time that he and Andrea will have to make up for. Conversations that will still need to be had.

But his son is alive; he’s safe, happy, and in love with a good man. He and Andrea haven’t missed it all, and they don’t plan to miss anything else when it comes to their boy ever again.

Carlos grins at him. “I think I’m okay with that, dad.”

Gabriel smiles back. He’s okay with it too.

[the-last-kenobi]

I know I have already requested a fic based on one of the dialogue prompts, so you don't have to answer to this ask if you don't want to. It's just that I would love another angsty story with Qui-Gon and padawan Obi (the way you portray their father-son relationship just melts my heart and breaks it simultaneously). I don't have a preference for any specific dialogue to be included. You as the writer can choose anything from the prompt list. Whatever you think would suit your story best. Thanks again!

Thank you!! <3 Always happy to get requests from you! Oh, author’s choice. Now I gotta make a decision... hm.

I decided to go with prompt #1!

From this various prompts list.

Requests are currently closed.

-

From the very first moment, Qui-Gon had looked at him and seen Xanatos instead.

From the dueling mats in the Temple, to the rundown transport ship, to the wastes of Bandomeer, Obi-Wan had never really been Obi-Wan to him — just another phantom of his former, cherished apprentice, another reminder of his failings as a teacher.

Obi-Wan knew there had been times when it had been different.

In the mines — his small, trembling fingers sore from slave work pressed against the collar fitted around his throat, his breaths coming shallow but steady as he prepared to press it, to erupt, to shatter himself into billions of fragments just to open a door for Qui-Gon Jinn — there, then, it had been different.

Qui-Gon had seen him, and apologized to him, and praised him.

Offered to be his Master.

Yes, of course, yes.

But despite their bond being sealed and the training begun, after that it felt like two steps forward, five steps back, one step forward, standstill.

Qui-Gon could not seem to comprehend that Obi-Wan was not Xanatos.

He was surprised in his habits, that he hated waking early but enjoyed it once he was up. That he ate light, small meals often throughout the day instead of three large ones, and wouldn’t touch a heaping plateful no matter how hungry he was. That he was tidy in his clothing and writing but usually forgot to make his bed until the end of the day, when he wanted to climb into smooth, tidy sheets instead of a mess.

And he seemed ready, at all times, for Obi-Wan to do something… evil.

Not just wrong, or reckless, or crazy.

But as if he expected his thirteen-year-old Padawan to dramatically drop a facade of innocence like a masked villain dropping his disguise, and prove to the Order that he was capable of incredible harm.

It was worse after Telos.

One might have thought Qui-Gon expected Obi-Wan to announce himself Xanatos’ heir after the older man had flung himself into a pit of acid rather than face justice.

If Xanatos had lurked between them before, he positively pushed them apart after his death.

And then…

And then Tahl died.

And it was Obi-Wan’s fault, his stupid broken bone and his stupid inability to take care of himself or be left alone in a war zone, and she was dead. There would be no more hastily made dinners shared with laughter and teasing and her telling stories from her childhood with Qui-Gon while Qui-Gon cringed and shook his head and looked at her as if she were his favorite star, and no more basking in the light she seemed to share.

And when Qui-Gon looked at Obi-Wan, sometimes it was clear that he could only see the love he had lost, and her lying dead before him.

And wishing it had been Obi-Wan who had died instead.

Obi-Wan could never decide which was worse.

When his Master looked at him and saw Xanatos instead, missing Obi-Wan entirely and both loving and loathing the face he saw instead —

— or when he looked at him and saw him, saw Tahl and the role Obi-Wan had played in her death, and wished to the gods that Obi-Wan had simply never been.

To not be seen at all?

Or to be seen and to be despised?

You look right at me, Obi-Wan wanted to say. You look at me but you’re always seeing someone else.

But Obi-Wan loved his Master. Loved him like a son loves a father, like a good student loves a great teacher, and he could not stop loving him and wanting to be loved in return.

He could not even bring himself to try stopping.

And Qui-Gon, it seemed, could not bring himself to see Obi-Wan differently than he did. Maybe there was simply nothing more to see.

After awhile, Obi-Wan stopped hoping, and simply pushed himself to keep going, regardless of what he received in return. It was enough to be his Master’s Padawan, to have those rare moments of perfect harmony.

He stopped checking to see if his Master was pleased with him. Stopped looking for signs.

Qui-Gon Jinn would never need him, but he needed his teacher, and so he would not complain.

And this state of being went on for years.

And years.

The first thing Obi-Wan registered was the sound of beeping. The whirring of machinery, the quiet hum of droids working nearby.

There was something foreign, uncomfortable and plastic, in his nose and his mouth.

His whole body ached, but at the same time he was so comfortable and so very very tired that it felt as if the bed he was lying on had half swallowed him. He couldn’t so much as lift a finger if he tried.

That’s odd, he thought hazily. I’ve never had a bed try to eat me before.

And that is when he heard it.

Qui-Gon, muffled by a closed door or even two, his voice raised as Obi-Wan had never heard it.

“—you insisted on speaking to me about this right here and now, then the burden is on you! I won’t lower my voice just to appease you, Mace!”

That’s not good, Obi-Wan thought sluggishly. Master is going to get himself in deeper trouble with the Council again, and I can’t help him if a bed eats me.

A pause, and then Qui-Gon shouted, “I don’t give a damn!”

Obi-Wan smiled inwardly. You never do, you rule-flouter.

Another voice rose sharply through the haze, but Obi-Wan could not make it out. Qui-Gon spoke again, anger bleeding into borderline rage. “Look where your priorities got us! I warned you, I told you not to send him in there alone, and did you listen?” The voices drew much nearer as Qui-Gon continued to yell, and he was getting nearer, too.

Obi-Wan frowned. That sounded bad. Who was it that Qui-Gon did not trust to go alone, and what had they done wrong?

“You sent him when I was away and couldn’t do anything to prevent you! You went behind my back! Obi-Wan could have died!” Qui-Gon roared, very close by.

A strange stillness fell, a quiet, like the sudden disorientation after turning off music or a bright screen and blinking in the darkness.

Me.

“He could still die,” said Qui-Gon, much softer, and his voice broke. “My Padawan could die in that bed and you want to talk to me about mission parameters now?”

I went alone somewhere and he did not want me to go. I did something wrong.

“Qui-Gon,” sighed Mace Windu. “No. We just wanted to—”

“I know what you wanted,” snapped Qui-Gon. “I’m not leaving his side, and I’m not discussing anything not related to his health, do you understand?”

A familiar voice that Obi-Wan could not place a name to spoke up just then, mediating. “Peace. Your volume and aggravation are disturbing other patients. Master Jinn, go sit with your apprentice and be still.”

“Thank you, Healer Che,” Qui-Gon murmured.

A door opened. Very close by.

Footsteps approached Obi-Wan where he lay motionless, sunken into the bed and burning with dull physical pain and a much sharper pain called shame.

Qui-Gon sighed somewhere nearby.

And then, to Obi-Wan’s astonishment, he felt warm breath ghosting the top of his head and then a dry-lipped kiss was planted on his forehead, paternal and solemn, a benediction.

“Foolish boy,” Qui-Gon murmured, and the bed shifted as he sat on its edge, one arm coming to curl around Obi-Wan’s shoulders. “Rushing off on perilous solo missions as if I wouldn’t notice.”

Obi-Wan waited, a strange breathless hope inside him, like small child expecting a gift, a silly and wondrous feeling.

“Sometimes I think you don’t know that I love you,” Qui-Gon said. “Go easy on your old Master, Obi-Wan, he’s a very foolish man and you’re going to give me heart problems before my time.”

A sturdy, rough-fingered hand began rubbing absently up and down Obi-Wan’s shoulder.

“You are remarkable, Padawan mine. Don’t forget that.” Qui-Gon’s voice broke again.

With an almighty effort, Obi-Wan struggled within himself, searching for strength. When he found it, he seized upon it, and with all he had he reached out along his decade-old training bond, trying to connect with his Master.

A flash of surprise, recognition, relief, joy.

Qui-Gon actually let out a strangled sob; the arm around Obi-Wan’s shoulders tightened fiercely.

“You’re going to be all right,” he said aloud. “In fact, I expect you’re going to be incredible, one day, my Padawan.”

Obi-Wan could not muster the energy for a smile, but he tried; and perhaps Qui-Gon understood, because the last thing Obi-Wan felt before darkness pulled him back under to the impenetrable sleep of drug-induced relief was the warmth of laughter against the top of his brow, and another paternal kiss.