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brf-rumortrackinganon · 5 months

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What are your favorite royal wedding looks and flowers

I answered a lot of these in the other ask so I'm going to use yours to do a deeper dive into most of the Millennial royal weddings. You want opinions, you're getting opinions today!

Quick aside: I mainly follow only the British royals. I pay some attention to the other European royal families and a little bit of attention to the Jordanian Royal Family. So that’s what this commentary will focus on. Because I don’t follow the Middle Eastern, Asian, or African royals (and subsequently don’t know much about them), I don't feel it's appropriate for me to give commentary on their wedding looks/styles when I don't know who they are. Obviously, as you'll see, my favorites are the BRF so the commentary does skew heavily towards them.

Adding this halfway through: This is a really text-heavy post so I'm going to break up the rambling with my favorite photo from each wedding.

Crown Princess Victoria, June 2010

The Cameo Tiara is my favorite. It paired very nicely with the heirloom veil. Loved that she went for off-the-shoulder short sleeves. Not really a fan of how the train attached at her waist (vs being all one dress), but it really worked for her.

Kate, April 2011

I loved how timeless her whole look was. If you take everything out of the picture and just look at her and the dress, it's magnificent. It works in black and white 1950s vintage. It works in the modern fashion era. It works for her as the individual girl she was at that time. It works for the future she's growing into.

Not a fan of the hairstyle and the tiara. It was a complete miss for me. She should've gone full updo or full Chelsea blowout instead of the halfway compromise. The tiara, meh. Didn't really add anything to me. After seeing the floral headpiece she commissioned for the coronation, I would have loved to see what she'd have done for the wedding since a floral headpiece is what she originally wanted to wear. I also thought her hair was a smidge too dark, but maybe that's the contrast with all of the ivory around her. I much prefer the golden/bronzey highlights she has now and I think it would've helped the contrast better.

Thought the flower girl dresses were a tad too long and that her bouquet was out of place. It needed to be more substantial for such a formal occasion. Either more flowers/bigger shape or bigger blooms.

Something about Hugo Burnand's work always throws me off. I think it's the scale and the perspective he uses; the subjects are too far away from the camera that their backgrounds seem to swallow them up. Didn't like most of their wedding portraits because of that. They kinda ended up looking like cardboard cutout versions of themselves.

Overall, a perfect day. It was nostalgic without being maudlin. Modern without being trendy. Celebratory without being excessive. Traditional without being stodgy.

Charlene, July 2011

I like her dress. Reminds me a lot of Crown Princess Victoria's, but with a lovely embroidery detailing.

I don't really have a lot to say about the Monaco wedding. It looked like a lovely occasion. The dress is fine. The veil is fine. The photos are fine, but Charlene looks like she'd rather be anywhere but there marrying Albert (and the rumors that have come out since about the wedding makes me side-eye a whole lot).

Stephanie, October 2012

Very pretty dress, very pretty veil, very pretty look. Not really very memorable for me. A lot of the gorgeous detailing in her dress gets lost in most of the photos; the close-up photos of her dress are gorgeous and I wish there were more.

I do really like her bridal bouquet; that's what I expected from Kate.

Her tiara got lost in the look and her veil not being closer to the tiara makes sense (since the tiara really would have gotten lost) but I think we've come to expect royal brides wearing their veils and tiaras together so this is something different. I do, however, really like how the veil flows in this picture.

Princess Madeleine, June 2013

I don't mind that it's a lace dress. I cannot with the dust ruffle hem. This photo just killed the whole look for me, but this one (above) and this one redeem it to where I can pretend the dust ruffle doesn't exist.

The neckline also had its issues. It went rogue at one point during the wedding and ended up giving her a 1980s-one shoulder style look.

Her hair was very Swedish (they do like their big buns). Her veil was gorgeous too, tying with Beatrice for second. I prefer the way Madeleine styled her veil over how Victoria styled hers.

Madeleine has my favorite makeup look; dramatic eye with a nice pink lip.

Sofia, June 2015

My feeling is that this isn't the dress Sofia would have chosen for herself. I think she went more demure and modest because of her controversial background but she's had a lot of fantastic style choices otherwise. Something about the cut of her dress reads maternity to me - the skirt seems like it starts too high in the bodice.

She has the traditional big Swedish bun, but it's quite a slicked back/severe look for her. I think with the wide open neck in her dress, a softer, looser hairstyle would have made it work better. I do feel like her earrings needed to be bigger with the open neckline, or at least should have had emeralds to match the tiara. (This may be my least favorite tiara styling -- a little too "on top" of her head, not very integrated into the hairstyle so it looks kinda like an afterthought.)

Loved the colorful flowers she chose. Her wedding colors were my favorite before Eugenie came along.

Pippa, May 2017

I know, I know. Pippa's not royal and it wasn't a royal wedding, but it had a big royal turnout so it counts!

THIS is how you do a lace wedding gown without it looking like Granny's tablecloth or Miss Haversham (yeah, I'm looking at you, Kitty Spencer). THIS is how you do a classic English country garden wedding. The way she decorated the exterior of the church was a dream.

Her headpiece was invisible and added nothing. I get why she chose the piece she did, but come on. Hugely missed opportunity to get a major piece from her new husband or to pay homage to Carole in something like this (which I realize is Kate's coronation headpiece) or like this.

The matron of honor/children's minder was perfection. The flower girls were perfection.

Meghan, May 2018

I'm glad Prince Philip was able to attend. I feel like he attended more to support The Queen than out of joy for the couple. I kinda wished Zara would have gone into labor during the service.

Everything was just so darkly lit, even the bridal portraits too.

(Edit: Let me know if you're curious about why I like this picture for their wedding.)

Princess Eugenie, October 2018

Her floral design and colors were my absolute favorite. She wins, hands down, bar none. I loved the moody dark florals and loved how she embraced the autumnal vibes by making the chapel feel warm and inviting.

I thought the sleeves of her bridal gown were too long and too big, and felt oversized. They needed to have been more tailored, like Kate's were.

Eugenie's wedding portraits are my favorite. The scale and perspective was pleasing and the simpler white background of the Windsor room made the people pop.

Overall, it was a very princessy wedding. Very well done.

Lady Gabriella, May 2019

Her veil is my favorite. I like the fuller veil style, but it almost seemed too full because the details of her tiara was lost in all the tulle.

I love the story that she had originally planned for a pink/blush gown but changed it to white when she learned The Queen wanted to attend; that says a lot about her character and respect for tradition.

Bridesmaid dresses were a tad long. For some reason, her Hugo Burnand portraits don't bother me as much as Kate's do. LOVE that she got to do some portraits outdoors, and her outdoors portraits are so quintessentially England. I kinda wish Kate had had that opportunity given how meaningful the outdoors are for her.

So sad about her husband. Sending her all the strength, especially with their anniversary coming up.

Princess Beatrice, July 2020

I loved that she went for sentimentality above all else. She really made the best out of a terrible situation. Their wedding photos make it seem like she (and Edo) are the sort of people who prioritize the marriage over the wedding so I sense they don't mind all the changes too much.

Loved her simple make-up and her grandmother's dress. Loved the veil too. The hair felt undone; this hairstyle would have polished the look nicely.

Princess Iman, March 2023

Iman squeaks into this review by 3 months. She is the youngest millennial royal bride.

I love how soft and golden her portraits are. She ties with Gabriella's outside portraits for the #2 spot for me.

Her look was simple, and I feel this is romantic minimalism done correctly. The drape of her skirt reminds me a lot of Sarah Chatto's, a soft delicate look that's unusual for most royal brides (who tend to go with stiffer, heavier fabric for the formality). It works really well.

The tendrils are a little much and too loose for me; I'd rank her use of tendrils #2 between Eugenie (#1) and Meghan (#3).

Rajwa, June 2023

I appreciate that she went for a look befitting her own individual personality but it was a choice. Her bridal look is a case of "too much pageant fashion, not enough wedding" for me. The draping was strange, the fit of the skirt versus the train seemed like she was wearing pants with a huge overskirt behind her. But the dress "sits" very nicely and I suspect since the Jordanians do most of their weddings sitting (like above), the overskirt style may have been an intentional choice for the photos.

Veil was nice. Bouquet was too small. Not a fa of the earrings. I do think her tiara is a little too far back on her head.

Many congratulations to them for the new baby.

#in this essay i will #all the royal families #commentary #royal weddings

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asterthought · 9 months

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[Posting this twice because I accidentally tapped on "post" without adding tags or any more context 😭]

I've got this ask:

This AU is my baby and I'm so sorry but I couldn't help myself and added color to this thing that turned into more than just a doodle 😭💖 + some info from my AU (and some spoilers I guess)

Harry smokes AND drinks even when he's barely 18/19, partially because he kinda has to appear older now that he's the CEO of Oscorp and the other reason being that he's looking for a way to blur his feelings.

Peter goes back to wearing his glasses, but without the crystals because now "for some weird and mysterious reason" he can see without them.

Harry has mixed feelings about this whole ordeal. Now that Peter is technically out of his life (in a sense, because Peter is still there, but he's not exactly his Peter) and Norman is back in it after years of being completely absent.

"When was the last time you ate something?" — Peter to Harry 24/7

Harry Sleep? What's sleep? Osborn.

Peter is constantly confused. Harry is astronomically anxious.

They still share Peter's hoodies and Harry's sweaters.

If you're wondering why haven't I posted the fic, it's because I'm originally writing it in Spanish (my native language) and it takes time to do so and then edit it so it's also enjoyable in English. Once I have it finished I'll post it chapter by chapter! (I'm almost halfway there!)

This is also sort of a redraw of this thing I made on february 2023 but posted in June

Under the cut there's a little (unedited) fragment of this chapter!

He [Peter] expected to see Harry growling in annoyance, kicking some poor little pebble that crossed his path. To his surprise, he found him smoking calmly and quietly on the porch of the house, his gaze lost in the horizon.

- I didn't know you smoked.

Harry was startled, but regained his composure almost immediately and didn't answer. He then let out a puff of smoke as he continued to stare at the midday sky.

- Or rather... - Peter continued speaking and took another couple of steps forward. - I didn't remember you smoking.

- You didn't really know. I started doing it behind your back a couple of weeks before... You know what.

- Why?! Harry, you're eighteen. It's still illegal. Not to mention, it's horribly damaging to your respiratory, circulatory, and.... - The sound of the other boy stomping on his cigarette interrupted him.

- Out. Are you happy? - He leaned against the white wooden railing, turning his back on Peter.

- You didn't answer my question. Why? - He asked as he settled in next to his friend.

- It's too easy to go with the flow. The other businessmen don't take you seriously if you refuse to smoke and drink in society.

- So you drink too...

- There's nothing wrong with that, really. You and I used to drink together from time to time.

It was impossible for Peter to ignore the melancholy in that sentence.

#my art #fanart #asterthought #asterthought.art #msm 2017 #marvel's spiderman 2017 #msm2017 #harry osborn #peter parker #parksborn #Spider-Man: Memory Loss AU #silly little doodles #<- not really #this a more polished piece #doodle requests #my fanfiction #my writing #ask

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mickules · 2 years

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Dangantober asks

So, you may or may not have seen, I've been posting Dangaronpa Ghost Photos as a daily october drawing and writing challenge

This is just a collection of asks about them, and I'll be posting a little breakdown of my thought process behind each character tomorrow

But first, the most pressing question:

I'm afraid not, it's just gonna be THH and SDR2 but I do appreciate the enthusiasm👍! I'll be honest, I kinda ran dry on the ideas front. It might be different if I'd planned it all out in advance, but since v3 isn't a direct sequel, it doesn't slot in as neatly with the prev 2 games. I'd have had to do a lot more juggling to fit it in and I hate to admit it, but I was already starting to repeat myself a little bit. There's always next year tho perhaps...

Rest of the asks below!

oho! (referencing Chiaki's photo) you certainly did see what I did there It was honestly a toss up between that, and sonic.exe which would have been HILARIOUS. (also not sure if anyone caught the ref to one of my fave youtubers)

Fair point, Well we know what happens when you break ALL of them, But if you break a few all at once I think it'd the first option. They won't come for you at the exact same time though, the haunts cascade, one after the other depending on when you broke the rule, and how fast the ghost haunts you.

I did try to make most of the rules things that'd probably get you in trouble anyway if you were caught, but there's gonna be that one unlucky fecker who accidentally throws a new pen away and gets their ass ghost stalked by Nagito, no idea of what's going on.

@cat0901h3 Originally I was going to include a bit with Makoto as the headteacher The idea was that Junko lured you into the headteacher's office to kill you THERE, essentially framing Makoto, and starting up her whole campaign of despair again. I decided to leave it more ambiguous instead like the ending of THH, and have Junko be your unreliable narrator instead

Course this au crumbles a little if you look too hard since the sdr2 lot are actually dead and not in a simulation (and I did not plan this lol) I like to think of it like a Battle Royale situation. Junko set up the killing games but it never got outside Hope's Peak, it was kept under wraps. there wasn't an actual apocalypse.

In this scenario I do see Makoto as the headteacher, he'd probably know about the hauntings, hence why there are school policies in place that match the 'rules', I figure Hiro helps out a fair bunch working out the haunting parameters, they're trying to help their friends rest in peace.

thanks so much! super glad you like! Working fast was what I was most known for in school lol, it helps if I've got a solid visual in mind, otherwise I can meander with the best of them.

AHH?? THANkS SO MUCH! I'm so pleased folk liked them! I've gotta admit when I started I was like 'ha ha this'll be a laugh' and halfway through it was very much 'WRITING IS HARD' Lord, pour one out to the fanfic authors, I cannot do what they do!

Thanks so much! it really makes my day to see folk waiting for the next one :) Hope celeste lived up to your expectations ;)

Sorry for leaving these too late to answer! I didn't want to stop and answer in between the dangantober posts in case I lost momentum But I wanted to acknowledge it, I'm pleased I sparked your interest! :)

[EDIT this ask came literally as I pushed post]

@emberz7 AH!! Thanks so so much! I'm blown away to hear that folk were actually spooked! A little creepy vibe was definitely was I was going for I think I like Chiaki's picture the most, I just really like how it came out with the screenshot vibe. In terms of story, honestly Sayaka's it was the one that inspired me to start the whole thing, and at the beginning it was the only one I had! I think it's also the most robust in terms of flow, it feels like an actual ghost story someone might tell.

Also, I see you, you absolute GEMS who reblogged each one?? and left tags??? you don't know how much that means to me

not gonna lie that's a big reason why I didn't run out of steam sooner <3

#danganronpa ghost au #dangantober #ask #dr1 spoilers #sdr2 spoilers #drv3 spoilers #anon #gallifreyanfairy2000 #emberz7 #cat0901h3 #dangan-answer-ranpan #mickules #long post #also korekiyo was legit exorcised what do I DO with that??#Kokichi was PASTE I was already reaching HARD for mondo #all my brain would supply was: put him in a jar.#head empty no thoughts #alt text for asks in image description

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reddy-reads · 2 years

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Harrow the Ninth, Tamysn Muir

This is the second in the “Locked Tomb” series. I liked it! But I do have some caveats

Caveat one: this is very very very much a second installment. I would NOT read this book without reading the first one because you need that context. (Even having read book 1, I got lost sometimes bc I read book 1 several years ago so I was confused until I refreshed my memory with a plot synopsis.)

Good feature 1: this is a weird book! From a craft perspective, it is just unusual. A great deal of the book is 2nd person, and there are sections that are in 3rd person, and about halfway through we get yet another POV. Delusion/unreliable perception of reality is a big part of the story and I think the shifting POV really helps with that. There are whole chapters of flashback that are just... off. It's great.

Caveat 2: I had trouble following some of the action. I believe this was intentional (delusion, reality/unreality, etc), but it did get to a point that edged around frustration here and there. But I also was trying to read during a busy and stressful time, and I did finish the book with relative speed so not a dealbreaker.

Good feature 2: description. This book is very visceral, and I do choose that work with deliberation because viscera (and bone, of course) features significantly throughout. On several occasions I just went “yuck,” which is a compliment in this context since Muir tried (and succeeded) to create with words on a page the visceral impression of... liquids and squishines. Very well done.

Caveat 3 is an observation about the ending/endings for books in this series as a whole, so will appear after the jump (spoilers below!!! Also I have a list of stuff I loved from the book overall, but it is also spoiler-containing)

seriously though this is spoiler country since it’s literally about the ending of this book and also Gideon the Ninth.

Caveat 3 is that I, personally, don’t care for the way these books end--which is to say, abruptly. The ending to this book and Gideon is not surprising or shocking, exactly; the logical outcome from a theme/storytelling perspective is broadcast, so it flows and follows and isn’t a cheap thrill exactly. But the books end quite abruptly. There’s a thing that happens that changes the landscape, and then there’s a brief epilogue, and then that’s it. In Gideon, Gideon dies. In Harrow, Gideon and Harrow both die (kinda) and Ianthe stuffs Augustine in the mouth and saves Jon. And then there’s a brief epilogue to underline the fact that “there will be more! Things are not over yet!!!” and that’s it.

Which is... fine. It’s a legitimate style to leave the reader wanting more. But also... It doesn’t leave me hungry for more; it makes me feel vaguely short-changed. And what’s worse, it makes me question whether Muir will “stick the landing” when the series actually ends.

Actually, I suspect that is the wrong question to ask entirely. Like maybe the sense that there are no endings is a thing she’s committed to, artistically, so wanting to feel a sense of closure or completion is juts barking up the wrong tree.

On the other hand, things I fucking loved from this book:

Oh my god it’s so weird. I loved the fucky-wucky POV shit. I loved the 2nd POV, and the 3rd POV delusions, and the long-awaited 1st POV

I loved the weird delusion scenarios where Harrow was like “Okay this time I wanted to be a cavalier. Okay, this time it’s a fancy party. Okay, this time it’s a meet-cute on a Cohort station starring me as a priest and Gideon as a barista”

the summoning of the Nonius--the power of Abigail Pent meets the fanboy energy of Ortus!!! Just!!! Incredible. I loved it. It was so dramatic and I was THERE for it

The weird and tragic and doomed but very Aesthetic romance of it all... Gideon and Harrowhark and how weird they are for each other. I did like that. “One flesh, one end.” “I gave you my life and you didn’t even want it.” Cool just live in my brain.

I love the Sixth house Palmades and Camilla, and I treasure every bit of them. I love them SO MUCH.

The themes really permeated the book, not just reality/unreality and delusion and perception, but grief . mm. delicious.

The book itself was a delightful object. I splurged and got a paper copy, which really allowed me to appreciate the typography stuff the publisher did. (Different fonts, the chapter headings, etc.) When I read Gideon the Ninth (update: and Nona the Ninth), I did it as an ebook, so the nice touches weren’t as apparent there. But damn I did love the little chapter headings and typographical flourishes.

#the locked tomb #harrow the ninth

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theycall-vn · 8 months

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outlined more of chapters 2 & 5 did some thinking about chapter 3, but it's like... not. there yet. i have a vague idea, it's just not turning into anything that i can work with yet.

gotta brain-microwave it longer i think

drafted more of prologue and chapter 1 so i'm about like... halfway or maybe a third of the way through writing the prologue. yeah a third sounds more accurate. might end up adding more to the prologue as i go tho, so

and i started drafting another bad end. lost steam halfway through cause i'm having to research some stuff and it just kinda threw me off a lil

started lining main menu bg. thinking about the easiest way to animate it also. have an idea, won't know how well it'll go until after i've finished the static parts

also started sketching first cg. not super happy with it, so i might go take pictures around my house to get a better feel for what i want.

edited script. forgot some options, choices, and customization stuff. had to go in and rewrite some stuff after those edits also.

have to do some more sketches for bb later.

also need to edit chapter 1 scripts now - awkward flow. i might do that today? after lunch, i need to eat lol

#theycallvn #theycallvn progress post #been up since 6am working on it #cause bad dream woke me #nothing i can use for inspiration sadly. what a waste. get with it brain. if you're gonna give me nightmares at least make them usable for #the vn jeez

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libidomechanica · 1 year

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Amber studs; and to the glad poverty descending; once

A sonnet sequence

Moved but dream of a thousand other? Amber studs; and to the glad poverty descending; once tis tender glade, and soft; the sung in things, and sudden blaze enlight with bleed a tear, she gave it, when the Spring, but sovereign’d before I am! The old grace and o’er them thou thus the victim forest sir Leoline first of woman-kind was fills through this use I behold, I saye as something love even my brow, feeding her stands our fourth at once unkind refuse: daughter the lie, yet is hardly Death aloud, like a spirits walking like they’d be amazed to a Shop of Tom. She had been, while shepheardes the Whigs? Struck, kisses have our that through when I read; and lassie, O. You would sureties were by the manners, yet dare clawing in the soul can be? Come instead of high to grateful for song, glad the knight, till he is his native in self-defence: but, Betty, go!—A merry bard!

Or be my love. That detail made the city’s still, my Johnny well; for spite the clown, to command the bottom perfect past a liquid lookes most of the moon is t, but to the lady Geraldine again precipices, by every things she notes from danger reddens over your windows on me, and take the C he gave it, where all nights, thine so pale, murmuring in me, descent’s eye with sacristan, while yet tis with love? Sweet whisper’d, vanished a vulture those free; the rivers, rather distant memory was not my brow, nor yet was ill, but kinda like a beam of Sodom blue.

My Johnny in his honest may comes from trouble freeborn shall thy image, that your hip; the stood the man I am let me lilies for the dove to saved you but his dungeon-ghyll so fast, why do ye fall a silver-shower, and Time: despise; let Prudence and Centaur Nessus garb of moral me; he’llfind it a year to us, thou thy streams with ease was well as bright provoke him on that could wears a good matters from hevene it and grieve, when by none lake. Seen john halfway the still. One is steeds were all my wings; but whilome thy brow—it felt the grave for on the song is duer untimely drawn; felt affection; nothing through some lovers, then tell; yet do not change—I saw this sole image yow made, why hast thou feel’st it far better the old oak tree, and wine. Suspended knees, he never from the Head, the House-top ill affronting head, denying thus, she darkening, quench like wax it yields.

I must be chaff for every surrogate? Each press grief for thou leau’st thou iollye shepheard through he knew himself, from his visitor: I am going thy words; for the Castalies; and shame to meet her mind may fix himself this a strange sighed the public use requires decorous World. Suspicion, discontend. He was a laborious eye, kisses, and night, to the country and lost all heart. Then what the thine have seen a Congress are; so bad, that, a whole; and confusion oft perfect made his elder brothers all the man can quite foam—thou cannot The game of your day our westering sea!

I broke me rue it. Tis like two swimmers. The poppy fall. ’ Within the stormy passion. Now Johnny here, and tied me lived phoenix in her cigarette. For here is ever upon the Acropolis, or since more cover. Though one had sown; in vain, and transitory hues; for no firebrand never so bright to behold you by heart could be for his horseback—I have been obliged to his heart here. And empty glove up acres and painting rather looking with tender the Thames, blush it then dilated organs let it then safety to her heaving was, a sweet, lord of your face; a moth.

But underwent shall ever give them yet, I will; since he cannot tell; but Lady Mary Ann looking up sudden the flowing comes, come homely wife; for their sabbaths are about her can emerge exhausts into the offended, thought in gold, that till the mastiff yet a laesie loord, and with of your eyes, to graunt, by Angel bringst with the wide world is becoming, yet, in the Baron’s head, denying trim; how Vlster likes of Hell brake the game of breath aloud to Lady Mary Ann look. She haste to none. For the name they please to be; discuss; and while my hands found him from a sip of her spell?

She chosen state he hast, your fellow passenger … though our lips, and red. For thee, knap the rampant her husband anger spoke of county fed; robert Burns: know it is to sit beside of max! God topples from world, and the sky, their ancient look, first. And of the first state; whither childe that’s in the pebbled shower, and the Mind great shine salesman or Castilian? These musky Fawn of Christabel And white line—O Swallow, Swallow winging, dancing to remain heaped aside like a delicate-stepping lips, and jealousy, the dale, and some devour’d vellum played them all: unbribed about with fish.

Made him on and o’er the gate thy mind is set, a star exceed proportions work even me, me, the voice rang false praise. They never she was to aid his carried until evening when I’m sure take me as a dream I must awakes through that had been doing al for great freendes and weetlesse curst, for the even. Than great and gingerbread of higher views upon her large tears and dead: these our black bat, night. Embryonic chickened mine and bread and by the stretched her. How Holland he musk of your song, the light, Betty sees, but seized, and neck. So much will he be seen to blooming and riches rancke?

After it grew, for the way she hurl’d; the lady spake, and Betty’s face, provide and all the beat’s thick, or long since her mine ear; above all laugh o’er the lent my life longer and ever was grave, no more; but in your selves, in this instance because she must, and vast, one and night lady, surprised, unknown, thought t was but no younger, you lovely managed, the Hand of too storm, the conquer Loue; the owls have done? These question was patent, and time, and the sun’s gold, and like to duct tape, notice she was that night arise and saw. My nurse that fatal and thee, the blood in the sprung amidst though our eyes!

—Without a bitter as well as not only that deep-sunken serpent’s good which hung there tavern-catch of Moll and drops dead and her cloak, and fortitudes in broad-brimmed thy soft cheeks bespread would heard great began my songs sake let flye: she would you both Silk, and wise, nor in monasteries lived in pleasured from the lilac gives or fruitful the world. Nor fourth I mean that glittered by pearls are at full well your false to warm her limbs are heard no spot where, what heavens. Which she country? But you have done? The maid with all that’s lasting in this darkening foremost it seems falsen no wight, and spring.

This man’s far upward through the hyacinth, so will be well that once; she told, perform this milder far that you doth convinced that supper, with their pay: and glimmer, mine nor much to twirl the church, and Caucasus; if you to rule all hear the moon is over all your stole among the dark wood; or to some reason’s rule all sweet weight, those which, dissected, walk’d bad French his pony too. Is fast bounds of yet, him whom she had offended sweet the voice, which I might dale, and so no more my waste, and winds were dying day! Like to doubted, nor flower wine, and she sang of, shook; the will ye thinking of helth.

Nor darkling out into the city’s edge, inwrought, a fit of our. Nor would help me at there worth of true a prince, throne: we takes the ways. Who can be, but half a hint or twice shall thy name the multitudes she prayer, both near the green, gambolled his longinge is near, she waking, and think forward the moment’s good after the terror was fled breast, and falling a line of two Ifs in their extremest parts lay his reflections like a mild whisp’rings of Satanic power he waste, and free—sir Leoline first love and that poison to bid good, whether than your black despair, I drafted abroad.

By autumn, yes, wishing lived into the thirtieth page; and, part my damnation, who pay no memory of his native diligence too palpably descend, we have powers; my mothers voice of legal strong necessity; then in the dale, and pride, so straine, from their cancelled Babel round and wine. Fruit, sweat from thenceforth I did fare: gay the casement: ’-the good, and wrinkled holy was best presumption is t, but if a brief for a vent. On a showers, footless youth, that others of sight, though in the pure immoral, the must needs must take times; for soule friend: you hear me, for him wrong!

Let me maketh a stay. As a meadow kit foxes crave those still the populace own true height me into the through the sweet this won’t anent this hide; by interior swarming sward of the nether home: and proud, blush, confederately neck, and land—It’s too long milk-bloom of the Earth, of office, fed by forced from thence, still and from the most, on so well, my John Bull—I thought to dressed, the month of May strewed flower. On a vision fell upon Maud’s own hither your letter. Some partial languish, when I was only swelled high with eyes sustain when I would, that’s out and betwixt were brass.

In her large precepts missed the tears she caue, when he fingers lately maid to feel the winnowing the daisy-star in all the slave to grow. Fluctuated, wrong, and thus sings he: bound the stopped away! Livid: how should be know, that should touch of pain. Thick with the one sayd he there thee watch and spread smile; and with you. I fear had a sudden ghosts, his sad distemperament: but in the through page and a parlous wit. The bridge hath higher spheres of thy comforted faire a face, oh call on me, that so it seems half- awakened my early not I your father dear life; reserved him tense—how shall trim.

Like other? So foully rent, where Time’s remoue: keep still and days them close than Heaven and blind forth there sharpened course they take. It ended, thy you realize I’m not to see the lady stranger came not lived, by pure necessity. Secrets of the green born to hoar February born. Each cell have prevail, and that Ovid told my lute unstrung; else it would rather shine opposite! Contrived of Evil—Well, could teaches soon unriddled until the weak optics is but one she said: the Muses upon her childhood’s this participated; the faring Cross,—or a blossom fell with eyes doe bathe.

But hear you have I invoked turned out of death: one is dead ere his fancy lights in moonshine living with dumbe lips let me carry … or long Devotion as a house, to yielding cock; tu—whit! But taught it like my silken-folded idleness; when we saw ten those who, after girded vests grew tighten all your court: rightly prayed: the owlets hoot, they deal, dismissed me in vain. All the plain sae bushy, O, aboon the moonlight lane has hearts, and then my hour; ever image from me fashions run, thick and by the circle of tender if April would be broken sky. Marble, mixt red and loving hopes and look’d, and all the road she to Hero, not to pray ask of your faith, ’ quoth he, my death-white rose in those vegetable knightlier move those lovely isle of breath of each May more clear to the gentle clock was he proffer turn the ladies. The seat of them out him for the middle of being lord.

Seeing heap of flame was he: bound up with the words the gate? And bleached and sett him chained half detect himself, when all their losses in Indian form a slight: she knows, in old did bring to his Strength the beauty in Loves Wars to mine, the lament the flockes to staircases, hall, arranged. And griping like vomit. It covered all might shone; for ever we cannot tell your next inheritance, the world had never sere, I cannot long, she had through Year just as your owne fall at thy distress bids me weary weight, oft till Easter. And somewhat castle clocks, the foe, whose which I come, and be my love.

Shield sweet. I love once large brightness; nor in the universely frame, is sick, am I sick to tell! And which habbe yhent, i’ll to dwell; for, praise despair, to complexion’d ever ceased, proclaim to Thee just return, join with fine Conceits, all forgotten. A though my slumbering pleas’d our sex but venerator, zealousy, how faine would you departing hye, the powers; or many an eager gentle dream of, not even when known to sustain a boy, you can’t do, and Franceses? Mild zephyrs waft then new maim’d to command this a mere lowe, and therefore the meadow kit foxes crave think forwake, yet knew his make that I might relief; you along trail of living wanted but you have dared to hear: and as above his course; graceful end—he rolling at will turn’d to command; all night grows sad distant her on paths perilous for the moon had hears, and no more. On vain upbraided crime.

Fair that a boyish kind only a sequel, after throtes. The bloody vengeance of late scatter’d and gemlike each in the grey-haired couple tied: restless he proudly shadow the red-breasts. Such certain, nor stirs, swelling in the dove it room thou art, when first, wheresoe’er you sleep but the world of the tinkling falsehood towns, to play with a falsehood accurst! A troop had largely paid; and lassie, O. The custom and Sir Leoline. So this watery death-note this hubbub—you know the mood manners, yet I may dislodge the bees, until the one engendering, nowe with mews. With stirrup, saddle him what a stay. Then glare the loves the night, and on our good time may covet the sun peels from cliffs and inspired with themselves. But fickle forced to the world—which to take it little red jewel-print of words his life but a now doth teach the fricative, only children resist it so. Home to die.

Is it thro’ his golden foot was sixty! What contend. As much of a castle good buy! And that Johnny’s left her homage yields. It was in curl in widest rivers, children, though in the pangs of an SUV and I maun crossed the sex will let this dark, that after seeming it is mild Muscouy; if French perplexities of chanced, as if to a married on, he, made myself arrived, the setting he may rise and that for me. Like a young, cold, to face in some finest wool, who, when we most, one drink-offering each press. Secrets we calling worse, thy streak Might turn squeakers— I have ’scaped the Prince.

Over that’s so well, and make her conceal, beneath thee a heart like a bless you let the vale. When full fifty yards weep no more. In my craft or art. Each day and riches, but I turn the swart-complexion last of looked wicked elipses gan glittering seemed her garment us with thee! West or worth, despite of Hell and melt with a wife. May be, but not Wit, that wind doth bring a note. Where they? Within, thought to do with blind with sometimes whoever fails; and the bricks of my race she dream passions were a new made the same, my griefs infold: but led by a passionless, but the souls related.

To search wept, and thee. And this is what a sudden transport rose on my rose tree. Your eyes o’erflows, proud, closet-gods there rosebud garden of girls, and the dole, so remember’d my deeds the typing of the dales is foot or their voice of his visage done, how near that repose, and forth their home, cried Betty, and spared, as we entertainty cheek, in time. For what the exact affairs is passionate cry from the great that veins the Spring! Our warm the threshold our sex is frail they came; the next, with the tribunes’ crew; a goodly royal pair of their tongue to innocent and griping stars halloo!

And for the Castle ways. And, full of the sang of, shook it of rock the sayes shine cold, when I see the end—and gathered, and she ran, and this seven syl-lables in a dream, to build thyme and round these beguiled! In twilight chilled,—but. And yet I do him that know I’m Betty’s most fervently, invisibly: he fast, where thou have yours is parching he marks of wicks, their kind the Sheikh a Fellow crying tricks of the holy father heart again, and upon the morn and guards of Patient love. Moment of liberty complexion’d ever again. Of parcells me from a sip of heaven, the kind.

I can’t shake hands: a moment’s most in some old oak tree. His pony move, or word of female parliament; arrive with frantic pain. Did not in their glorious cry, he who would, like him, with any evidence of melting home, my mild reproach, O Spring, but this night had through. Under and love; such a grandmother cans and ugly, well and maiden banner of the stopped on her beauty herself, that peace she left hys flocke so dearest. Towered the storms the few or mastered not, to feede the creeping that lamp burns a churl. Nor eyes were sing and with ingratitude in which melted Florian.

What courtly accents flow in gloom, honeycombed will color the holy watch the exhaust pipe an’ drum in mind, whether best guardians, grove it was never loud; some weight on a world a spire of death. To take me for the glen sae bushy, O, aboon that thy pearls. Themselves away; and that beat neath the mob stood up and common brought should draw: of touch you come where on the faring of royal malady should descending to doubt, she an anger who can emerge exhaust pipe on me, descended from the pain, and very walls repelled and heart, you can get next was none spake on some were wrong.

Sir Leoline will say tis made long exercised if all the oak and worse, begets a bachelor he was patent, a noble handy lads, have taken with children, husbands are about then? Lies at hazard, without disgrace not wonder lost in the fingers; pour thy sire, like harness’d meteors, let me die, as free. Beside my heauy mouldered by the doleful to seek, my wife is not into strow my discovery t was there was sexually tranced again; there’s not quit with a roysterious days; but this use I make; wit temperament: but a burning little wind believe it?

No matters admired of bodies uncloth’d must statue’s image, that twinkle in your more of ladies all itself: while, half- listens, but I, so much unlike enough the slowly, by my kindness dragging and men will their ancient long; I shook his wife and were travel them up with the sun did spills theyr souls can it become somewhat look the road be head at there rose, and could weeps, thy joy, going all the green bought? Crossed the vales and green herbs under duvets, sound shudder’d knockers who are young men. What, if thought I said she unbound in the task. What shape of her deadly peril among all that!

The staring sound shuddered, while toil all soon as a hero, young flat line after than female. And what you have you quite refuses to smere, the little head, and to and thence. This yeere one red like mister me? Until the oak and sound soon gather senses fail, and rill, till by the laws are hateful good, and will make all fairly gain. Shall ever couple set, and gained of her day; a year who could drops dead; I lift somehow evasive, some guy with the happy time it should. Was she practised her all your daughter milky stones, yet dare deny it! ’Er her hand, and not what th’eyes o’er they were, and dance was kind. Not a hair soft-dying day! She was soften seem’d to the time toward her, and wisely choose you wilt know the tale with a dauntless plough by autumn, yes, wind an echo in his horse and St. And helpe their brink of gold that reseeds it with middel smal and obedience my offended?

Or witty, but taught his horse, and on, he sweets are, or count as well agree, that art the whelming to relieve: which name of pleasures pensive Sal that weening late by persons of wrath she empty honour! That whose lovely fare, must speak of his hands your own improbable bell-mouthed glass, and tumbled to hear her homages,— is yet without delay across you out of historians, grove it was silently, inviolably true, as still public as there is nearest forlorn: the Muses, looking upon him, and Fate prayed the green? To make my oath deny, but white man in the sex were traveller bold, his vengeance of it from Lady Psyche, Cyril, vext at her horror of God do go, and by the waves’ bound that makes such who met the deep inward, found with that with its smell: but incontinental bogle, which that rode furiously. ’Twas from thee; the owlets hoot, the touch or save.

And latent in statute-book’s privilege. In silent; close beside her name. To some friend! Blushing still she knew we would returning, turns green tread. The retrospect, but half undo it. We can escape from vice, but with its to go; even her both be head, each in hond thus the three, but uncertainty Ariel’ and pass’d in things as if in the other’s brink she length with full of that in the brooks, that at the vale. Sees the Western bespake: how well country and now the lightlier move the leave me, I have since I am! A gown going, sheikh, Be wisest of land the earliest pipe of men!

Oh gentlemen, every gust of life and pride, and sunflowers of too slow; she cast in a Prayer, unless to preached he drew: he whole weeke with these feared today when a loftier for thy wine while my seat of Julia’s breast; and fickle my crimson-rolling in t: but yet those my pain. Then cause the way shepheard no spot where I stand so dispense with head it, could die for our slanted found was ruthlessly. With fury has he write on things doen leader the burro, too real for her arms bene that Eloquence comfort poor men were, merely mother to take her chilly brain, feeding me now.

Yet nearest rose of Gulistan shall wholly in the hold the shouts—and Love! Unlikely thought I saw a bridegroom looked lips on you believe them, but he is fame: but moss and breast. Let thine! Our right, over delicate Arab arch outward peace be their night and pasture, has not distinct the pronounces last request: ’twas best look at they heart, safeliest pipe an’ drum we’ll welcome it. The quietly, perchance, all for her was Johnny and paine. So Lilia sang: we didn’t makes me to load and made, why are just as the walls, and dark? When thought of heavenly alchemy; anon permit the end.

With,—’Damn your telephone man; so good old Damætas lov’d to command the plainly the souls unlike the bough broken: we takes the distant colonies entering sweet emotion; if we shut my plight. Who was silence no doubt, she shall becomes across the favour my dear. Nor long night, till I die, and Fauns with dumbe lips they’d be all mischance had been cast an age to those have told, or thoughts there is that is in its sage Hippocrene, while my soul, a light, that still with figures deepe, humble Maiden’s sun hath flown, to clothed, she did not for true eyes blind Fury with circumspections can sayne. On the day!

The Baron’s rule perspicuous square thine! And calm and his silly poet, silly man: those on the dew, wanting so much will go; I turn the pearl make my love all motion: touch you will! And lassie, O. Which heauen to the same harpy. They part of it to our daughter, one did bring, for what infamy: and the lips for their monstrous diamonds, is the lap of flowers in their round was ouer all, and dipt beneath the water face turns hers!—On the dole, so stunn’d and morn. Did not breathing loud; like an orb, as they went thus’: most pursue, and life is the scope, with smooth face, counting jealousy, how turn again.

Find some strange adventures of gentle wing, you know not yet am force and fro, that’s still, to the glowing country, till Easter. All the paint the vision of miracle. Why, Bracy! Rapt to trample of Or Molu. Of bricks of my heart, she found golden foot was to keep the setting rightly transitory hues; for she was taken from me none will say tis the judgment of the man would I speakers—I have been she had hardly neede hem caren forecast an amorous crime. The maturity, that women lovely warning Painters, and, passionate women thro’ ripen’d corn by drive them one by choice, invisibly. Shoot of tenders to have right and still my song might can right for his horse was drowns on my lips they are, the open blows from a Corner of happiness, to some conspicuous square the puffed pursue, or, at thinketh a single jewel-print of purl, ’ then along the ground.

Could chalked and past. Exceeding Heaven’s Zone glistering each comfort Johnny soone may stand you know not overcome it. That with it through road? Without I lookest of infamy! With opens to gentle dame, who, when she has made to avenge us at our weak and those old say, is lying of elves, in old time. That I ask, that lovers are exhaust pipe of man was it can’t hurt you, lifting you on a vicious laws, that twinkle in one looks at a time in years and Fashion,—say who look well am I in their fasting down by her shout, halloo! This pocket brings made for last, the pools where myne eyes, like to dispute that’s eleven; tis only children: say to the key that I hate me for your best, with as fierce invective develops, wherefore me in. Now that I have seen. Thou canst wait through the shall beneath her hands: striving author of our pony’s tale remedy to some string.

Beside of majestic marrow brought for life a careful, tender the days that stir this locks all the doctor at the meadow kit foxes crave them, but sown so they foul could rather, his blood is but vain he sight shone; for each other distant too. From vice, would shine out, little wa’, she live heart it was green, yield without, when shepheard the sideburns with porringer in thy record of the lake-blossom, viand, as short, he best, and dost thou return employed my crimson current pour’d, fair possessed hour foreign land, ’ she shoulders with false to heaven, to been import both heavenly joys&desire.

Here talked, and wipe the instant in the Head! Were all awake, were sweet good-morrow, is not seen Napoleon of that does containing out her seeming it back and so the darkest house declare all the waiting up perfume, her round stern. Since has my heart? The worth her roof of legal stretched straightwayes my life would be: and pass’d, desiring stars, and abroad, and was admitted for the other guilty hand as easily gatherine in Hades, now command, but he is my lonesome years of the work that Thomalin can stop watched into the desultory breeze. Appear; and Pegasus hath been.

For every act confound. How quietest of possible not due to see it like a drum we’ll welcome, she sits by hoof a knell, which underneath her of it. A feeling in this way—or tell the high disdaineth; suns of half undo the leaf, the day, to put a face they rode furious duty, through harbengers of the artist that begetter’s mind. The despair the name therefore set their riot even that sanguine flower unfamiliar, universal nature’s high; such the spite throne, which locke so dearest rose on me low, and let the world appear, no less virtue is a crater.

Till love or a seasons as they circle they should gracious age, repeyreth hoom from thence remoue: keep still remain two persons of cowardice and thy sire, hath been. Out, but stay. And blood: it will pray that same declined thus dances are build up hill to the pleasured friars there wicked askance with eyes and the plain; a bachelor he was, that he was a birth, our royal mind, which circumstance at home, and peer on paths peril among us in our we stood in you blocks in the Feild, I make me remorseless that was mine. Dear as such sweet was interest all those whom remaining of Time.

And daffadillies at a cadaver. Her loved by my fate; tis but a guide-post— he turning sky. And, after all, melissa clamoured our long have done? The moon on this she, that spot, as if her bosoms fits! Of home; and saw what scarf, let me steal their straine, find sometimes life’s journey well; perhaps tis a place. Is fast by love. Bubbles up to the depth, with smile at they did recline to push them all: one, and every part. Love and my journey, but for their losses in her, the flee. World in whit, e the ground, save them, as that when will have all of Then by the consent short as that is best.

And brought a rapture immeasure while of two gifts in mind, will hit; though Betty Foy has run but the bridle, for Lycidas, and smite no more,—false, ere Time this the foe, and ways be foul, then behind. A lusty days, that vain her arms are single acts and coughing sun one extremely in his weight, a fit of Writers mind. What, a whole Trinity on so uncover the Baron rose, and thee. Thou my pretty mound beyond all they mind the Devil; the whole weak and thus about, his gewgaw castle goes; pure- bosom’d this song, so much, and fair, in the rested in the common cry, phillis they blasphemy, the grass you with a merry meeting away, from Beauty is no planted found, like an epitaph—Julia, when dilated Hercules Furens’ into child of her good them go scramble with any evidence, and all lies and sweets into the heat ends, and caught that dressed, she dark.

Crying of her hands young, but now thanke, to lay deep inward, and ugly, well could say of it, some groand! Return with eyes can scarce knew she was praying a line of an aik, bonie Lass of going through the rich in his place to hear; ’ and tossed, therefore we part, and then from the lost perhaps the brutal ravishing. Today when will sag if you can get nachos. Place itself enuies you, as babies in like small pardon—as it well attir’d wood from though Betty list: ygyrt with Amaryllis in a clench or brand to make her cans and gave me? For woman send the way with the lane, or with patience; if they won’t attainable—not eternal love thy fond, please; and helpe the moment, and place, sick, sits head. I must going to be foul, then leaps to face; the owls began that I hooked my brow, feeding heart is what stinging in the fate her looks along time it selfenesse well thee life be a blow.

He has desires of precipitate thy brood is but rude enough. Yet unemployed my transient, and sky, do not, I freeze and the plain sae rashy, O, aboon that God poor, and done we love to your glass of Albany. But that seems that very floor below, else how came in visitors seek my tourney, who thus array’d; then blest and tell where she blew his mother story, to filled dahlias and worse precautious, down! And stooped to all this night. Poor Betty Foy has up upon him; wedded love, I thought, not just go, thought to be conscious tears does must have in which turn she sense of Christabel.

When we meet do pains in perfume there before us, knew no more than Heaven had so rarely by deeds to preached you know hope, that shrunk though every of his require in the hapless griefs infold: but think for wowing in her lips, prison to the oak. The little pony’s hear; but, fool, seeks, thy perjury; then what to live. This Midas knew; and night with little army down, leap, beyond all was who did show it was before to the sun peels from a gutted mirror. For ever level bring avarice, pride, let me makes through the violets, which name of the present the lea; but draw the fence.

Poor Tom was the cost, for the carved so elaborately maid half of what the forehead or heart, I see the woodbine spices are no more interval affording to an angels’ lays; for any way between each burst thee to sit and pine! And bless you Stella, I say, with discovery t was fight the letter. Dispense her kenned in the Touch, first he met, jumping from hilly brain, I say morning of other safeliest where Time’s remora. ’Ve misse not then they don’t hint, but give the million time is no gentle Euphues, who then, the Victor is, and still as mine—thought with joy they were.

By tairn and faded for think it fit, as passion is up—the sky. Her till they don’t remember—a moment, this way. I love stripling bird, who was said, where I could the Foeman’s oath, and neck. Borrowed from Fairy Queens. And tingles in Indian craft or suits full dominion claim his vesture, and be my muse’s carriage, or wife, but deals with howling were: and the tumult and green, in five years. Abroad. Begin, in bloom! All miss, a few sad tears desired some coy maidens, beautiful to see a lady Christabel devour’d busy care thou art from a Corner of the God their cash come wish me moon that none to his new, and gold. Who felt like a prayer, or die. Discontent toil and pipe and forth found useful and mylde, well her hand: but to her, I wish thy child in her immortal breeze, at once set them slightly: what, if not yet that I look less griefs have the leaning day, and peaks out.

For the slaves we rename here is all admire, and by proper place that was in conservation, drink but stay:—she’s grow. That are almost diverse everyone in Heaven reflected in her where thou doest but chased that fury has his body destiny: so fresh lap the white have. To make us at our notion impossibility of nourish languishments and stand; and there! That sacred vnto the cedar-shadow where thatch-eves run; to be overturns; and I, a tyrant’s football, laughing-stocks of beauty in the same: they never cantos of English, save when Rome’s an houre three part!

And look’d, and let our husbands to Plight, and Johnny! Remote from mine ransom, before he went I must bothers, and in sorrow flew to Hero, not only we whom the meadows wed as maids are no more: not the extremely to buffet to faint and knows, maybe with relieves he’s coming, my own anyone every gust of married on, he, made myself with softest of human, what to lassie, O. She rose against the world, or ambition, the Browne, and, from thence with bear a passing and we down, it sends to repay. Holds the heavy chance by night is chill; the sky folds its worst desire.

Over your name. Thy pyramids built up with caress’d; but what is fidelity. Thing the husband’s heard; at length of coiled rosy banquet love Frankenstein. Our crime, perhaps they said, they seem’d over than his pence, stealing up perfumèd garments were vice, but his frequent shake blushed us, downright delay. I knew not whilome was drops a broken chat with a silent as well: and cast you know to framed, that the loved Woman! On a page—Fair daffodil sky, the cliffs and in love-long therein. To every where almost crash … it’s your mind thereof, your skin stretched plighten all Minds best thus, she quivering the round, bade him meditate the wounded badly it gone, I must ride up of woman, who met the grief and durst commission, avarice, bountee tells us back, a weary lady Christabel, are light long time to do. The sun-brown’d, or where he met me, Sir Leoline. Feeling lips, with Betty Foy!

Change of a new theme: I have you as I by young Charlotte such that next demand performed the delicate-stepping free, goodness, and Feares, but his sagacious star hath come and from bed and sweet Christabel. Even the loss—of the million times; for such, which after; but bare; he lent my dripping place and by his back and could not changed on the milk comes across the flowers Sappho’s breast. And Betty fifty yards were soft that th’eyes o’er, thou art descended sheepe, O shepheard … from hilly bourn; he spoke and Hope, a pleasure while yet prevailed? With bring, for whom she seemed her girl was whispers use of shame.

Let me every day was the plainly though but whether, tu—whoo! —Oh God forbidden guests some reason to go … O Yonge fresh and fast by the grove it was, and his name, as soon with the standing at the nightlike in every particularly pulls through a long it with these common run, who bent the water-fall. To sing and his time of whom thou here? Ah wel-a-day! And vanished out by an Angel mild: witless code, the bottom of youth, a wide world appeared; and innocent, so mild; that I hooked with a stark unprinted to withstanding your grew another; and shake that trickling drift pages nor for the field, and ugly, wishing. The dense brains across his wisdom! As ocean meet, and after night I wended; in which was hold fast white is not your berries were enough though of why you well.—The moon rides in your eyes, in sound asleep; so sad, so whipt me walk in and in his desire.

Was her idiot boy. Here is that a subway carry back?—From heavenly mind, which you sleep but this soul may take. In the shaggy top of snowy dove, where, which is your Lesson by those breathing … I am going schwa schwa schwa schwa schwa schwa schwa schwa schwa in that is a moment ere though in her secure of Thamis—why you say: in their timeless string. Others use, if looked upon my wedding mercies harsh kissed me to take that Thomalins Embleme. You wrong! My sun of straw and this mark you of the through my hours of sleepy eyes I know not how she satin dome and all nightly votes past.

Heart, you leave here soon would new theme: I have a tedious battle to pay. Not due to me; they but perfume. And some small-eyed China brought as the clear spirit twere, within the same, as soon the darts as with his her mine, and to staircases, hallways—perhaps, he’s hall. My child lies and bedeviled breath a psalmodic amble within their walls repelled them blist, they have seen, but she shepherd’s crockery-ware meant; for such better have sinn’d! The maid! For the next demand performance of light, sank down. Bent that I loue and sang. As learn from the first die; here before me; Moore and ocean meets the wine.

Yet since in a silken-folded her answer: his dutie gree, for age deprest, the take what, that fills and one moment’s coruscation to that some red, she never seasons and fill alone, who was you to every truth is, I cannot go; if I agree thou art and call’d Parks, ’ where Time’s remoue: keep still, plucking force together the best, and so stuff, live chance, like a climb, you, guiltless a cry to the Amorous eye in long vine o’erloaded with her sins unknown, belongs! They the cast it swinging, dissected, and milk comes a feeding heart hath learn from the fairy guest looks about confined, and see!

The pony move, all must bring yet; the ran, and as he a brave: and marble eyelids to crown through Kennington and ugly, wished me with you, ’ save your black in memory, for a vent; arrived, by mine owne fall: a glance I cannot he. And prophesy your dear traps for itself and what is in itself and men sayne, the blinks dull at more than she; each the high upon a crone informed and friend! At poor Johnny soon divide the terror over one kneaded of what same gold that now even doth make, that I have power in the leaning over servants will triumph was bootless cries Betty Foy?

Place its very floor whether wizard stretch, find my Delia, more beauty in the Touch, Wit spins both senate women blows his oath, and woe the sent: from thy Brightened be, but day come the load. Again that echoes far country cried, when you don’t remember than she knew. Now raving-wild, like the slight the oxheart outright, it barred cloud as short a step to be over the sun’s golden heavens did groan, more orthodox. Ill spirit vexes, oft stombles at the words could Medea’s magic mend the lark at breaking on the hill, saw the sun: we took the knight things seem stark mute steals along, lest aught a vent.

That trick or two keepen all her for you, as you now? Futures. As the words did sting. Or in my bootless woe was cleft, dropt thro’ foreign land, and termes, and then picked man’s sun hath reared vp his faithfu’ heart descendings. To make earth Hell! And take up the larks, without a tread, and a whirl the sea, this shack with all the pebbled to speak,—I grant posies, a cap of Tyrol borrowed from them and over hie, laughing sweet, temper your content upon the people, as short, they han fatte kernes, his sight to leaves are to poverty were. Feeds of the Acropolis, or since he cannot silent wife, but it indeed I’ve the wife, let it through to ease me up a freeborn shall ever lost, he travel’s store five and under at top with pain and treaches girls, to haunten rather five talked and for with head again: but ne’er wildswan in ambush laid, and that happy soul extend the pit of Writers mind!

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #160 texts #sonnet sequence

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just-some-random-blogger · 2 years

Note

omg oh you got my first part?? im shocked, never seen it. so its ANOTHER part 2!! what about it? yeye this gif is so perfectly looped TT i hope the kitten is more taken aback by the unknown smell rather than the awful, absolutely terrible pain this ball gives him. but hes so cute TT 'its weird someone else has my name' ekaterina I, ekaterina II and me: *_*, *_*, *_* well.. hm.. sorry for stealing your names babygirls... yk, im proud. like hannah montana is hannah, you should be proud too! omg there IS a cat called PRINCE and you can TALK to him!!!!! omg im crying TT HES SO PRETTY TT omg you can CHALLENGE him TT he may scratch me to death 'shes not a minimum viable product' lol it was the first thing ive seen when i searched for the meaning of mvp. i dont understand your gamer slang >:( ok yes i learnt what mvp really meant but i needed to mention this mvp too. 'i aint ever reading that its too long' LOL i've read 'war and peace' and 'And Quiet Flows the Don' (tha fact they translated it like this... smart but so unfamiliar...) which is probably 3000 of pages in total... and oh.. 'The Master and Margarita' also represents hell in a way and ive read it so.. you cant mock me like this catmom TT im sorry i talk about russian literature so much but i dont really read smth else... well beside the all tumblr shit... 'i hope you only mean in the show' you never know..... 'less anxious about sending asks!!😤' YES GIRL!! i love this mood!! youre gonna do it and do it in the best way bc youre the best!! i believe in you!! no one can stand against your hot person presence!! go and talk to them! 'my body is like is this a threat CLOG THE NOSTRILS' ghdjs its kinda funny how you talk about your body as a castle which was attacked TT its kina true but still hilarious. hope you breath well lol. 'to be fair i have an electric fan open and when its night it gets colder' and i've got an opened window... youre really lucky i cant slap people. how was the movie? and what movie TT 'YOUVE ALWAYS BEEN SWEET IM LUV U SO MUCH' yk what? i take after my catmom. meomeow!! love you too<з SO listen the daemon idea..... 'BUT THIS SCENE WAS SO INTENSE' YES its also so true!! i love how alicent is the loving (lol to aemond) mother and a fair (LOL in her own way) woman, a majestic queen (lol sorry i want to say shes great but...). she said there was not enough information about alicent in the books so they kinda created some of her character and background? i think thats why alicent is so great in hotd. actresses really feel her. and emily!! i was amazed by her acting in the scene where she was like 'supporting' king in his chambers? her voice was really trembling and she looked so lost. wow. omg i havent seen tom and ewan in youtube so i absolutely forgot about them TT rip TT i like tom too. from what ive seen in tumblr and his insta i (as a judgemental person lol) think hes sweet. and im sorry but TT i used to (actually i still do) find it funny how ewan purses his lips TT IDK WHY but it makes me laugh so bad TT he seems quiet to me. 'WHICH WAS SHOCKING' lol hes got a puppy face... no his acting is good but... my judgements... theyre rarely mistaken yk.... you can love emma and can love olivia separately but their duet?? divine! theyre so ?? a match?? i even thought they may be a couple for a moment. so hope you've got a good day! and a good week!! love you! take care<З

ok i gave up on my homework and passed it /alsfhlasfhasf HAHAHAHHA

i hope i didnt do so badly HAHAHHA

anyway let me start by talking about that movie i had to watch for one of my classes. it was boring but then i made it halfway through the film and i was like wait its not that boring and part of me wanted to watch it but i decided not to continue cos i got all my answers HHAHHAHAHH

it was this movie, october sky, its about a kid who wants to make rocket ships and its based on a true story so HAHAHAHA i kinda might go back to it but i prolly wont AHAHHAHAHAHAHAH

omg oh you got my first part?? im shocked, never seen it. so its ANOTHER part 2!! what about it?

T_T this was so dry i was like ??? wait did MY reply not send ? HAHHAHH /:

yeye this gif is so perfectly looped TT i hope the kitten is more taken aback by the unknown smell rather than the awful, absolutely terrible pain this ball gives him. but hes so cute TT

HAHHAHAAH its probably more of the contact the kitty had with the ball spring thing thing

'its weird someone else has my name' ekaterina I, ekaterina II and me: *_*, *_*, *_* well.. hm.. sorry for stealing your names babygirls... yk, im proud.

HAHHAHAHAH im more like PLS its YOU who stole MY name even though *I* stole Hannah's name in the bible because she's who i was named after lol HAHAHAHAH

like hannah montana is hannah, you should be proud too!

i was!!! i was like OMG IM FAMOUS HAHAHHHAHAHAHH i love hannah montana

i have no idea what his episode it but AWW THATS OS CUTE I LOVE IT WHEN GIRLS GIVE BOYS FLOWERS T_T

omg there IS a cat called PRINCE and you can TALK to him!!!!! omg im crying TT HES SO PRETTY TT omg you can CHALLENGE him TT he may scratch me to death

YES YOU CAN CHALLENGE HIM but its like??? this card game HAHHAHAAH its like a game within the game and the cat is a player in the card game

'shes not a minimum viable product' lol it was the first thing ive seen when i searched for the meaning of mvp. i dont understand your gamer slang >:( ok yes i learnt what mvp really meant but i needed to mention this mvp too.

IM SO SORRY I DIDNT MEANT TO CONFUSE YOU mvp isnt gamer slang actually it originated from sports specifically basketball i think and it trickled to mainstream media. MVP means most valuable player! T_T i thought you gathered i meant she was a minimum viable product from what i was telling you. i forgot i even said mvp T_T im so sorry my love

'i aint ever reading that its too long' LOL i've read 'war and peace' and 'And Quiet Flows the Don' (tha fact they translated it like this... smart but so unfamiliar...) which is probably 3000 of pages in total... and oh.. 'The Master and Margarita' also represents hell in a way and ive read it so.. you cant mock me like this catmom TT im sorry i talk about russian literature so much but i dont really read smth else... well beside the all tumblr shit...

its fine you can talk about russian literature all you want! idk i find it scary to read like 'classical' books, especially the ones you learn about in class, cos idk it feels like ???? a chore????? idk idk

'i hope you only mean in the show' you never know.....

T_T T_T PLEASE

'less anxious about sending asks!!😤' YES GIRL!! i love this mood!! youre gonna do it and do it in the best way bc youre the best!! i believe in you!! no one can stand against your hot person presence!! go and talk to them!

me @ my brain demons

'my body is like is this a threat CLOG THE NOSTRILS' ghdjs its kinda funny how you talk about your body as a castle which was attacked TT its kina true but still hilarious. hope you breath well lol.

HAHAHAAHAH I FIND IT EASIER TO EXPLAIN THINGS LIKE THIS NOT SO FORMAL BECAUSE IT MAKES MORE SENSE

'to be fair i have an electric fan open and when its night it gets colder' and i've got an opened window... youre really lucky i cant slap people.

HAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHHAHA IM RONNIN 🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️

how was the movie? and what movie TT

HA i already answered that HAHHAHAHA

'YOUVE ALWAYS BEEN SWEET IM LUV U SO MUCH' yk what? i take after my catmom. meomeow!! love you too<з SO

<3 <3

listen the daemon idea..... 'BUT THIS SCENE WAS SO INTENSE' YES its also so true!! i love how alicent is the loving (lol to aemond) mother and a fair (LOL in her own way) woman, a majestic queen (lol sorry i want to say shes great but...). she said there was not enough information about alicent in the books so they kinda created some of her character and background? i think thats why alicent is so great in hotd. actresses really feel her.

HAHAHHHAHAH the parts in the parenthesis HAHAHHAAH. also ive seen people say that the show is basically and interpretation of the book because its so... ??? incomplete cos its a bunch of outside accounts ??? so as interesting as that is, imma just enjoy the story as a tv show so yeah AHHAHAAH. alicent crazy (theyre all crazy) but she can choke me

and emily!! i was amazed by her acting in the scene where she was like 'supporting' king in his chambers? her voice was really trembling and she looked so lost. wow.

i felt so bad for young alicent. her dad an ugly rat L. OMG by the way when i say L that means loser AHAHAHAHH and W but i dont think ive used it is winner HAHAAHH T_T stuff i learn from my younger sister HAHHAHAH

omg i havent seen tom and ewan in youtube so i absolutely forgot about them TT rip TT i like tom too. from what ive seen in tumblr and his insta i (as a judgemental person lol) think hes sweet.

HE DOES LOOK SO SWEET MY WIDDLE TOM HES SO BABY I SQUISH I KISS IM LUV LUV LUV

and im sorry but TT i used to (actually i still do) find it funny how ewan purses his lips TT IDK WHY but it makes me laugh so bad TT he seems quiet to me.

he seems quiet to me too! I ALSO THOUGHT IT WAS FUNNY HOW HE PURSES HIS LIPS BUT ESPECIALLY WITH ALL THE TIKTOK MEMES AND MEMES IN GENERAL I SAW OF HIM HOLLUP LEMME LOOK FOR SOME

THIS HAHAAAA

and then this tiktok

i bawled laughing when i saw this (though tbh im not sure if this is the original one [i feel like the door was brown in the one i watched and the dude's lips were SUPER curved. that or i have bad memory])

'WHICH WAS SHOCKING' lol hes got a puppy face... no his acting is good but... my judgements... theyre rarely mistaken yk....

HAHAHHAHAHAHH UR SO RIGHT SO PUPPY IM LUV HIM MY PUP PUP

you can love emma and can love olivia separately but their duet?? divine! theyre so ?? a match?? i even thought they may be a couple for a moment.

T_T ur so right they compliment each other so well [BREATHES FIRE]

so hope you've got a good day! and a good week!! love you! take care<З

i hope you have a good day too! i have class tomorrow and im going to go to school so i might reply late.

i love you <3 <3 <3 do well <3 <3 im proud of you always

xxx

#anon ask #my beloved anons #modern!daemon anon #ask #modern!daemon nonnie

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babyboy-cody · 3 years

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HI ALYSSA!!! 😃 What you wrote for grayson was beyond BEAUTIFUL. can you write something where they’re in a new relationship and she gets introduced on the podcast??? 🥰

i’m gonna try really hard to not go overboard this time 😭

The atmosphere was lighthearted and playful. Since 7am to the early afternoon, you’ve been extremely nervous and fidgety. Grayson recognized the early signs of an anxiety attack and made to bring out one of your sensory toys, the ones that make the popping and clicking sound. He brought you to a secluded corner of the house, away from everyone and all the noise, and blocked them with his body until you calmed down. The scent of him, the overall height of him, the gruffness of his voice, and the soft teddy bear vibes Grayson was giving off had you feeling more at ease.

“What if… What if they don’t like me, Gray? I mean, I’m not like the other girls you’ve hooked up with before. I’m not some insta baddie or a bad bitch. I’m me and they’re gonna hate it,” you quietly rambled to him while frantically popping and clicking your sensory toy, all the while keeping your eyes on your hand movements. Grayson allowed you to rant, not stepping in until you were fully finished. “I mean, Kris is different because she’s perfect for Ethan and she never really got any hate - not that I know of. She’s like a soft baddie, I’m not even 6% of a baddie.” This made Grayson smile as he crossed his arms and stared down at you. “Like, I’m not Tyson and it just… sucks feeling like this.”

“Look at me,” he told you, his voice low enough for only you both to hear. When you nervously peer up at him, no longer using your sensory toy, he places his large hands on your warm cheeks, thumbs gently stroking back and forth. “You’re not Tyson and that’s why I’m in love with you. You think I care about insta baddies? You’re the fucking queen, you hear me?” When you start looking down again, he quickly lifts your head. “Aye, I’m not done talking to you. You’re nothing like those girls and that’s what made me fall for you. Your kind soul, pretty eyes, and good vibes made me feel so comfortable that I always wanted to be around you 24/7. Ask Kris.” He smiles at the sound of your soft giggle and the way your eyes crinkled at the corners. “If I love with all my heart, the people who support us and want us to be happy will love you too.”

“Yo,” Ethan called out from across the room. “You ready?” He was looking at you, more so worried about your reputation than Grayson’s. “There’s no going back.” His tone was teasing and his eyes held no malice. You looked up at Grayson and he gave you a small nod and grin, as if telling you, ‘You got this.’ When you gave Ethan an enthusiastic nod, he excitedly claps his hands. “Lets do this shit!”

When you followed them to the room where they do their podcasts, you felt that anxious wave crash over you again. Grayson, being the extremely observant man he is, made sure you had your sensory toy in your hands as he rubbed your arms gently. He pressed soft kisses to your cheeks that felt like butterfly wings fluttering against your skin because of his growing beard. Kristina shot you a thumbs up from her spot in the kitchen as she ate some avocado toast. You felt more at ease as Grayson and Ethan shot playful jokes at each other back and forth. You took your spot beside Grayson on the swivel chair and took the headphones he hands to you. After setting up the mics and cameras, you got yours comfortable and sat a foot or two away from Grayson so that they’re able to do their intro without you in the frame.

“It’s now or never,” you quietly mumbled to yourself.

“Good evening, everybody!” Grayson enthusiastically speaks into the mic. “Welcome back to Deeper with the Dolan Twins. I’m one of your hosts, Grayson.”

“And I’m your other host, Ethan. If it’s a little harder to tell who is who, I wore white today and Grayson wore black,” Ethan states confidently. “Grayson is always wearing his greasy ass trucker hat.”

“It’s not greasy, shut up.” Grayson sucked his teeth and rolled his eyes, sending a look to the side as you covered your mouth to stifle your laugh. “So, today we are doing things a little bit differently.” You sat up straighter in your seat. “As all of you know, we had Kristina on our podcast to furthermore introduce herself as Ethan’s girlfriend.”

“And today,” Ethan rubbed his hands excitedly. “We have a very, very special guest. We are introducing… drum roll, please…” Grayson quickly tapped his fingers against the table. “Grayson’s very own girlfriend, Y/N!”

Grayson was quick to pull your chair closer to his as you held the mic and laughed quietly as they both cheered loud and clear. “This is my very lovely and very beautiful girlfriend, Y/N. Say hello to the audience.”

“Um… hello,” you awkwardly said, causing Ethan to snort. “Shut up, E! I’m nervous.” You shyly covered your face, groaning when Grayson pulled your hands away and placed his hand between yours. You immediately started playing with his fingers; a sense of calm washing over you. “Well as nervous as I am, I am extremely excited to be a guest on your podcast and I hope it receives good reactions.”

“On a lighter note, lets dive deeper into how the relationship between you and Gray… developed,” Ethan said and got comfortable in his seat.

“You tell the short story and I’ll tell the long story,” you told Grayson and lightly patted his shoulder while looking at him with such love-filled eyes that even Ethan can see from across the large table.

Grayson cleared his throat and never once move his hand from between yours. “Well we met a few years ago and started fully dating, I’d say, almost a year ago. And we met through Kristina because you’ve been really good friends story.”

“Okay, guys, people that are listening and watching,” Ethan interrupted. “Remember to get very comfortable because this story is going to be a fucking rollercoaster of emotions.”

“Oh god,” you facepalmed. “Now, for the long story. I’ve been really close friends with Kris since our childhood. I moved to Australia at a young age with my dad after my mom passed away, and we were just two peas in a pod. The way you and Grayson are with each other is the exact same way Kris and I are with each other.” Grayson leans his chin on his hand and never once looks away from you. His attention was all on you… and your lips. “And then, back in 2017 is when she started telling me about Ethan. And she had mentioned that you had a younger brother-”

“Younger by, like, 20 minutes,” Grayson interrupted with a scoff.

“Younger brother,” you emphasized a little louder, causing both twins to laugh. “And she had asked Ethan stuff about Grayson, to which she transferred back to me. So, she was like a bird messenger.” You giggled as you said that, causing a big grin to form on Grayson’s lips. “And then no sooner after that, we started talking more frequently and getting to know each other. And it just.. grew after that.”

“Didn’t Gray ghost you?” Ethan suddenly asked. Grayson groans loud beside you and covers his face embarrassingly. “I remember you freaking the fuck out because of it.”

“Yes, the motherfucker did ghost me for a few weeks. Wanna explain why, hm?” You teasingly asked him with a raise of your brows. Grayson blushed fiercely.

“So within the first three months of us talking, that was when I fully started developing strong feelings for you. And at the time, I had been fucked over so many times by so many people and was never really able to hold a long relationship. And I partially blamed myself for that because I tend to.. rush things, if that makes sense. I’m a romantic and when I fall for someone, I fall hard.” As Grayson passionately spoke and opened up his feelings, your eyes went from his eyes to his lips to his hands and back and forth. The way he spoke with his hands made you hide a smile by biting your lip. “And I was terrified because I automatically assumed that I was gonna fuck it up one way or another. The only way for me to cope was to push my feelings aside, and it just effected us both so negatively.”

“Yeah, from past experiences, it can be really difficult for someone to come to terms with the true emotions they felt. I was the same way with Kristina, you know. It felt like I had to walk around eggshells out of fear of fucking up the one thing that was good for me.” You and Grayson nodded in agreement. “I remember when we came to Australia after what happened and Gray was running back and forth, just writing what he wanted to say to you and he almost cried because his pencil broke.”

You quickly looked at Grayson. “Really?” You weren’t teasing him, you were shocked. Your voice was soft and you had a pout on your lips that he kissed away. “Stop, you’re gonna make me cry.”

“Nooooo!” Grayson yelled out and threw an arm around your shoulder to pull you into his side.

“That’s so sweet!” You whined and pouted some more. “I never knew that, Gray. I know that in the past, there were some hardships that we were able to overcome and the way we communicated with each other, it just made our relationship stronger.”

The conversation ranged from topic to topic. Your life growing up, the death of your mother, your dad’s rescue farm in Australia, your college degree, and some moments between you and Grayson. You felt so comfortable and carefree that Grayson noticed a changed. You laughed more and spoke louder. You playfully bantered with Ethan and provided your own insight on serious topics regarding the negative effects of social media and about mental health. He’s so sure in his heart that people who love and support him and Ethan are gonna love you the same.

#this was really cute 🥺#i kinda lost my flow halfway #idk if you can tell #grayson dolan x reader #grayson dolan #grayson dolan fluff

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pennamesareoverrated · 4 years

Text

i had this friend, from a ways’ back whom i used to be really close to. sometimes I still think fondly of her and wonder - what could we have been?

i remember being 15 and questioning.

not aloud- at least i don’t recall doing so but i’d look at her, hopefully inconspicuously and just think.

we’d have these weird moments during our teenage years in which we were loud and hormonal veins pumped full of explosive wonder

in our quiet moments when we laid next to each other me over at her place parents out of the house hands by our sides and knees almost touching

i remember being 15 and questioning yo what are we

i wanted to voice my questions and hear her speak her mind but i was honestly a little terrified of shattering what we had she spoke before i did with actions - a solid pillow smack in my face

of course it dissolved into a playful pillow fight with her, things were always simple easy just like breathing

it only felt logical that we would be together till the end of time - or as much of an end as we could see - we were only 15

the pillow fight came to an end as all pillow fights do and silence settled around us until she broke it with: we should get an apartment together

we were only 15 and it was flattering to hear that she’d want to spend a lifetime with me but

wait what-

LOL NOTHING the smothering of another pillow on my face and that was the last that we’d ever spoken on that she moved away the very next day her room swept clean of the feathery down from our play fight

we were only 15 and now we’re 23 i kinda wanna ask her one day if she’d been serious

#honestly i really just plucked this one out out from the conversation i had with a close friend of mine #i found it really cute #and wanted to kinda write a little about it #see if i can expand on it a little #i was given permission of course #so this #this isnt about you #but about a possible cute puppy love that was lost to time and circumstance #god i love writing about love cuz im a huge sap #im writing the tags first to rant cuz im a little nervous getting started on this piece #the words just flowed really well from my friend and im not entirely sure how to add on #i will try my best #oof im only halfway but i feel like i might scrap this #or i'll definitely come and revisit

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jvngkook97 · 2 years

Note

Can I request for Jungkook with boobs obsession. Kinda smut ?

I Love Boobies

pairing; vlive!jungkook x female!reader

genre; fluff, humor, smut, established relationship

warnings; menstrual cycle, mentions of blood, period sex, irritable reader, impatient reader, light exhibitionism, mischievous koo, handsy koo, boobie worship, praise kink, nipple play, oral (f receiving), penetration without a condom (reader has IUD), soft sex koo, attentive to your needs koo, only wants the best for you koo, aftercare

rating; 18+ minors dni

w/c; 3,414

a/n; thank you so much for the request! this is my first attempt at full on smut. i’m so sorry if it’s bad. 🫣 shout out to all my fellow 90s babies who were in the ‘I heart boobies’ bracelet craze. like + reblog if you enjoyed. feedback is always appreciated and keeps this writer motivated. <3

networks; @ficscafe, @thebtswritersclub, @kflixnet

Aunt flow has arrived and it’s kicking your ass.

All you want to do is curl up with a heating pad and eat your sorrows away. The only problem? What you were craving for, you no longer had, having forgot to go grocery shopping this week due to your boyfriend’s hectic schedule.

Said boyfriend was currently doing a vlive in his office, while you were cocooned in a heap of blankets on your shared bed. A new kdrama was on in the background as you tried desperately to just sleep off the day, hoping the cramps and intense burning you felt in your abdomen would ease up by morning.

Your stomach grumbling was telling you otherwise, reminding you of just how little you’ve ate today. The feeling only making you crave your favorite period foods even more, but you knew that there was no way you were going to get up right now to go to the store. That left only one option — Jungkook.

Glancing at your phone, you saw he had about 40 minutes left of the vlive before he normally cuts it off for the night. However, you didn’t know if you could wait that long. In fact, you knew you couldn’t wait that long. Especially when you were starting to get a headache from not eating enough.

Picking up your phone, you opened your messages with Jungkook and began typing.

Koooooooooooooo

Baaaaaaaaaby

Can you do me a favor, please? 🥺

Jungkook was in the middle of answering various questions, getting lost in the stories that would come up due to them, when his phone that was laying to the side off camera lit up with notifications from you. He unlocked his phone to read them, while still trying to speak to ARMY. He typed out his response quickly, before setting his phone back down, but left it unlocked on your conversation to make it easier for him to read and reply back to you.

Kookie 🐰: Hey baby. I’m still doing my vlive rn, can it wait until I’m done?

You groaned in frustration at his answer, knowing that’s what he would say. When a new wave of pain ran through your stomach, you clutched it with your arms and assumed the fetal position for a moment until it passed, whimpering quietly. Once it did, you came to the conclusion that no, it couldn’t wait. You were going to feel terrible at cutting his time with ARMY short, but you’re more than willing to explain on his behalf why it had to happen, even if it meant exposing your womanly woes for the entirety of the world.

Typing out an ultimatum, you knew it was the only way that he would listen. Pressing send, you waited.

Noooo. I need you to go to the store and get my favorite foods, please. And some more medicine and tampons. I’m dying over here, I won’t be able to make it to the store myself. 😭

If you go right now, I’ll let you play with my boobs.

He was taking a swig of his drink, when he read your next texts. His eyes widened as he choked on the liquid that was already halfway down his throat. Hitting his chest, he cleared his throat, then smiled at the camera and reassured ARMY he was fine. Biting his lip at your offer, he pondered ending the vlive early. Sitting sideways away from the camera, he smirked to himself and sent you another text back.

Kookie 🐰: Your offer is very tempting. How about this? I’ll end the vlive right now, if you send me a pic of your boobs. <3

You scoffed to yourself at his response. That cheeky little bastard. If this was how he was going to play, then so be it. You were always up for a challenge. Rather than just send him a pic, you decided to go all out and do something that would make sure you’d win this battle.

Untangling yourself from your cacophony of blankets, your bare feet hit the cool flooring and you let out a hiss. Slowly standing up, you crept your way slowly out of your bedroom and down the hallway towards his office. His door was halfway open, incase you needed to yell at him for some kind of emergency. He was considerate like that, and he trusted you would be quiet otherwise.

When you peeked through the crack of the door, you saw him softly singing one of their songs that you’re positive ARMY requested him to sing. You closed your eyes momentarily to bask in the moment and savor the ethereal sound of your boyfriend’s voice.

Snapping out of it, you got a text ready to send by a press of your thumb. But before you hit send, you made sure to be poised and ready. Grabbing the hem of the bottom of your shirt, you lifted it up and over your chest with one hand, effectively exposing your boobs — hardened nipples from the cold and excitement of the semi exhibitionism and all — then pressed send and waited until he looked down at his phone before you gently pushed the door that was hidden off camera far enough for him to see you clearly.

Look at the door, baby. 🙃

Lost in the song, he didn’t notice his office door swing open, didn’t even bother to look until his eyes flickered to his phone and his brows furrowed in confusion. Finishing the last note in time, he took the opportunity to glance out of his peripheral towards the door.

His entire body tensed up at the way you were posed, just casually leaning against the doorway, the action squishing your boobs together as your arm pushed into one, making you look even more erotic. You bit your lip seductively, and smirked at him. Then you raised your phone up and silently told him to check it again, having sent another text shortly after the first one he didn’t notice yet.

Gulping harshly, his Adam’s apple bobbed. ARMY was none the wiser as to what was happening, only seeing as Jungkook kept himself looking normal for the camera, though his entire body was reacting to your curvy figure in the doorway, waiting for him.

Gaining the strength, he collected himself enough to look at your text. He couldn’t help the low whine that escaped from his closed, pursed lips.

You have one minute to shut it down, or I won’t give you a boob job before you leave for the store. The choice is yours, baby.

With a final wink at him, once he looked at you again, you gave him the peace sign and dropped your shirt. The action making him pout on screen, his eyes still trained on you off camera, as he watched your underwear clad ass bounce lightly as you walked away.

He loved ARMY, but he was still a guy. And he wasn’t about to pass up the opportunity you presented for him, especially when he knows sex is off limits during ‘hell week’ as he liked to call it.

Looking genuinely apologetic, he came up with an excuse to end early, promising to hold another vlive soon that would be longer than they already are now. Holding his hands in a prayer sign, he bowed as best he could while sitting down and gave a big, bunny toothed smile. Reaching off camera, he ended the vlive. Not even bothering to fully shut down the computer, he was bolting out of his office and down the hall into the bedroom.

Standing in the opened doorway, his jaw dropped, saliva pooling at his lips and threatening to fall at the sight laid out before him — you. If he thought you looked erotic before, you were absolutely sinful now. He took slow steps towards the bed, discarding his clothes randomly throughout the room, until he was left in nothing but his boxers. The bed dipped as his toned arms flexed deliciously to bring himself further up the bed until he was hovering over your now fully nude body, a large towel placed underneath your bottom in preparation of what’s to come. His knees parted your thighs as he settled himself between you, half sitting and half hovering over you.

“You’re a minx, you know that?” His head ducked down to capture your bottom lip between his teeth as he nipped at it lightly. You smacked his chest playfully, but kept your expression innocent. Trailing your hand down his toned chest that grew taught in reflex, you grabbed the hem of his boxers, only to pull it and abruptly let it go, hearing the ‘snap’ as it hit back against his hips. The slight pain only emphasized what was not so hidden and straining against his tight boxers.

“But you love it, baby. Don’t you?” He swears, you have the face and the body of an angel, but your tone of voice was laced with nothing but sin as you playfully teased him.

“Why is there a towel?” His brow raised in question, knowing it only meant one thing, but he didn’t want to get his hopes up if it’s not what you intended it for. “I thought I was only getting a boob job?”

Now sitting on the balls of his feet, no longer hovering over you, he did what he’s been wanting to do since he first saw you flash him. Taking a handful of your perfectly sized boobs, he gently massaged them, squeezing them at random intervals.

“You still are, but I recently read online that having sex actually helps lessen the pain of cramps. When you have an orgasm, the muscles of your uterus also contract. Then they release. That release should bring some relief from period cramps. Sex also triggers the release of chemicals called endorphins, which make you feel good. And right now? I need you to help me feel good. Can you do that for me, koo?”

Throughout your explanation, he switched his attention to your nipples, rolling the buds between his fingers. Leaning down, he gave open mouthed kisses around your boobs as he gave his response.

“Anything for you, baby girl. I’d want nothing more than to help ease your pain. I’m just glad I can help you through it at all. I’ve always felt helpless otherwise.” He admitted sincerely on your bare skin.

You ran your hands through his hair, lightly scratching his scalp as you did so, the way you know he likes it. You smiled softly at his response, your entire body filling with a whole other kind of warmth, other than being turned on. It made your heart happy knowing how he only ever had your best interests at heart, always wanting to help you in the best way he can, even now, in moments like this. How did you get so lucky? You’ll never know.

Feet coming up to his ass, you used your toes in an attempt to shimmy down his boxers, the action only causing a deep rumble in your boyfriend’s chest in the form of a laugh. You pouted at him with wide eyes as he paused his onslaught on your boobs to stare at your face, nothing but pure need and desperation is what looked back at him.

Understanding that right now, as much as he fucking loved your boobs, you needed to be top priority. Sitting back up on the balls of his feet, he made quick work or ridding himself of his boxers. A loud sigh of content came from his mouth as his erection sprung free, long and proud.

He was beautiful. He was perfection. He was yours.

Making grabby hands at him, he smiled softly and complied. Scooting himself up by his knees, his arms came to rest on the pillow on either side of your head. His open mouth hovered over yours as he asked you the one question he always did before penetration.

“Are you ready?” His eyes searched yours for any hesitation, any doubt in continuing. If he had to, he would stop and respect your wishes, no matter how much he wanted to do otherwise. To him, consent was important. Just because you two have been together for years now, and have had sex countless times, he always made sure to get your permission, knowing that it was a privilege to be able to make love to you, not something guaranteed.

“I’m ready, koo. Please.” Your lips graced his at your reply, that had him kissing you so delicately as if you would break at any moment. You deepened the kiss with a slight tilt of your head, pushing up on your elbows to press your chest again his. He moaned into your mouth, and you swallowed it wholeheartedly. Tongues fought for dominance, as he trailed a hand down your stomach and expertly found your bundle of nerves.

Your hips immediately rose up at the contact, and he had to gently press your hips back down into the bed with his own to continue his ministrations. The only beauty of being on your period and having sex, is it doesn’t take as long to reach your first orgasm of the night. It ripples through you in pleasurable waves, and he doesn’t let up on his assault until you reach down between your bodies in order to grip his wrist and push it away from you yourself.

As your body convulsed underneath him, he placed open mouth kisses along the side of your neck, waiting for you to come down from your high before continuing further. Just with that one orgasm alone, you could already tell the difference between how your stomach felt before and now, the cramps having lessened significantly.

“More, koo. More.” You whined breathlessly with half lidded eyes, grasping the sides of his face with your hands to bring his head up and lock his gaze with yours.

Placing a kiss on your forehead, his silent way of saying ‘okay’, he pushes himself back up to hover above your body with one hand, arm straining from the added weight. The other that was still caught between your bodies, now grabs his length to line it up perfectly with your glistening hole. Walls clenching around nothing, you started to get impatient with how slow he was going.

“Jungkook, I swear to all that is holy, if you do not—,” with one snap of his hips, he sheathed himself fully inside of you, cutting your words off as you let out a loud moan at the feeling of being so incredibly full. Pulling back out until the tip only remained, he gave another deep stroke that had your eyes rolling into the back of your head, mouth parted in an ‘o’ shape.

“Fuck–yes, koo. Just like that, baby.” You praised him in a gentle, yet sultry tone. One that had him swelling with pride, and restraining himself to keep with the pace and long strokes that seemed to do the trick for you. He sat back up, hands gripping onto your love handles, his deep strokes somehow hitting deeper with the new position. Your hands found purpose in stroking his abs with your fingertips that were tight and prominent with each thrust of his hips into yours.

His eyes were fixated on your boobs that bounced up and down, something you noticed and decided to give him a show. Grabbing both of your boobs, you squished them together, and pushed them up.

“God, you’re fucking perfect.” Now it was him praising you, his words only helping spur your impending second orgasm, as he chased his first. His thrusts still kept the same pace, but it wasn’t until you let go of your boobs to grab his hands and place them securely on top of your breasts, making him squeeze them harshly, did his pace change.

You were nothing but a blubbering mess underneath him, your wanton moans getting louder as you got closer to your release. He could feel the way your walls clenched around him, feel the way your boobs molded into his hands, hear the lewd sounds that came from both your arousal and being on your period, and it was more than enough for him to snap his hips into yours a few more times before stilling completely. You could feel him twitch inside you as he released, your own orgasm clenching him tightly and milking him for all that he’s worth.

Once he was finished, he kissed your forehead, your nose, your cheeks, and finally ended on your awaiting, puckered lips. It was a little ritual he always did after you were done. With a lazy, content, smile you gripped the sides of his face with your hands and rubbed his cheeks with your thumbs.

“That was incredible. I feel so much better. Thank you, koo.”

“No, thank you.”

“I’m too tired to top you right now, but I can still give you a boob job?” You offered him with a sleepy smile, feeling bad that he only had one orgasm over your two. Food being long forgotten after your tiring antics.

“It’s okay, baby girl. It can wait until tomorrow. Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah? Then you can sleep.” Your eyes were already beginning to close as he answered you. Your sleepy, content form, only made him laugh quietly to himself as he slowly and carefully pulled out and sat back up.

Thankfully, there wasn’t much mess to clean up. He used the towel that was laid underneath you to first wipe you, then took care of himself before shuffling off the bed to stand back up. He threw the towel in the dirty clothes hamper that sat in the corner of the room, and began searching for your underwear that was somewhere on the floor. Finding them, he bent to pick them up along with his own boxers that landed close, yanking them on.

Sitting next to your feet on the bed, he slipped your feet through the holes and swiftly slid up your underwear. He made sure to check if the pad you wore was still clean beforehand, which it was, before your underwear were once again secure on your lower half of your body.

He walked to his dresser and pulled out two clean shirts, a plain black one for him, and your favorite of his that you always liked to steal and wear because it was loose and comfy. Tugging his own shirt on, he opted to go to bed without sweats on and just his boxers, his body still cooling off from the strenuous workout he just had with you.

Walking back up to your half asleep form, he set the shirt you were going to wear on the bed next to you. Lightly shaking your shoulder so as not to startle you, he spoke softly.

“Y/N? Baby? Can I put this shirt on you? It’s your favorite~,” he quietly sung, coaxing you to sit up enough for him to slide it over your head and successfully getting your arms through the holes, before he laid you back down. Grabbing onto the blankets that got shoved towards the end of the bed, he pulled them up until they lay just below your chin. Reflexively, you snuggled into the blankets with now closed eyes, a quiet exhale emitting from your slightly parted lips as you fell asleep.

Tucking your hair behind your ear, he gazed at your sleeping form with nothing but pure, unadulterated, unconditional, love. Giving you one last forehead kiss, he turned off the lights and made his way to the opposite side of the bed — his side.

Lifting the covers, he carefully slid underneath them to lay sideways close to your body, making sure not to jostle the bed too much and awaken you from your peaceful slumber. Throwing an arm over your figure, his hand went to lay on top of your stomach as he rubbed soothing circles until his own eyes began closing from his own exhaustion creeping in.

Before he fully succumbed, he made a promise to himself to get up early enough in the morning to go to the store and get you everything you asked for so you can have it when you woke up.

A tired, husky, barely audible ‘I love you’ slipped past his lips, and he was out.

#jeon jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #bts jungkook #bangtan boys #bangtan sonyeondan #bangtan family #bangtan #bts fic #bts army #bts fluff #bts smut #vlive #kpop vlive #jungkook vlive

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dream-a-little-bigger-x · 4 years

Text

You’re The Reason | Eric Matthews

Add yourself to my taglist! | Here’s my masterlist!

Requested: Yes/No

A/N: My first Boy Meets World fic! Gah! I hope you like this! Couldn’t stay away from the JATP boys though, so it’s kinda like a JATP x BMW crossover... Lemme know what you think!

Pairing: Eric x Fem!Reader

Song(s) used: none

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, party

Words: 4,028

Eric Matthews. The goofy, charming oldest boy of Alan and Amy. My best friend since forever. Our parents always told us the story about how we met in the sandbox in Kindergarten. I was building sandcastles when Jason, Eric’s first best friend, came to ruin them. Eric, being the charmer he always had been, told Jason off and pushed him out of the sandbox before helping me rebuild my sand castle. Ever since that day, the two of us had been the best of friends.

We did everything together. Everything from play dates to eating ice cream to going to middle school and eventually high school. Though we never graduated together as my parents had to move when I was 16. We moved to Los Angeles and never returned to Philadelphia. Eric and I were so torn. We had promised we would keep in contact and the first few months were hard, but we eventually found a rhythm in our long-distance friendship.

Every evening, we would call each other except for the weekends as those were date-weekends where both of us went out on dates. But come Sunday evening, we’d both be on the phone, telling the other what had happened during said dates.

During summer vacation, Eric would come to L.A. to visit me or I’d go back to Philly, just so we could hang out together for a few days. Those had always been my favorite days. We’d reconnect and find that spark again we always used to have, which, in its turn, brought us closer and made the next few months a little less hard when all we could hear was each other’s voice.

Last summer, however, I realized that I’d rather kiss those beautiful pink lips than stare at them as he talked about yet another girl he took out over the weekend and made out with. It stung, to say the least, but I couldn’t tell him how I felt. We were miles apart from one another, it would just hurt more.

Though what hurt even worse was when Eric called me one time in the middle of the night, crying. Confused and worried, I listened to him as he let everything he was feeling out of his system.

“Mister Feeny is retiring, Cory’s going to college and eloped with Topanga tonight and I just– everything’s changing and I don’t know what to do about it. I wanna stop time and just go back to the way things were. All of us in high school, Cory and Topanga fighting over God-knows-what or Shawn and Cory getting into even more trouble. And you… Not miles away from me…”

I choked back tears as I listened to him. He sounded so broken, so lost. I wished I could just hold him and let him cry as he spoke about how he felt. I wished I was in Philadelphia instead of Los Feliz, a place I didn’t quite belong.

“I’m sorry, Eric, I wish I could make things better for you…” I said, my voice just above a whisper, afraid I would cry if I spoke any louder.

Eric sighed on the other side of the line. “Why don’t you just– come home? Study at Pennbrook with me?” I stuttered and stumbled over my words, unsure what to say to him.

It wasn’t like I thought about it. I’m an adult, I could change my whole life around and move back to Philadelphia. Back to Eric. But while that sounded all beautiful and wonderful and like a dream come true, I couldn’t just drop everything here. I had my new friends, a college degree I needed to finish.

“Come on, babe. You know you want to…” Eric pleaded, knowing all-too-well what was going on in my mind right now even though he couldn’t see me. “I know I want you to.”

I heaved in a deep breath. “I can’t, Eric… I gotta finish my degree here. I gotta–” Just as I wanted to continue summing up reasons as to why I wouldn’t be able to go back to him, four guys I knew like the back of my hand entered my dorm and jumped onto my bed. I didn’t even need to see who it was to know who it was. “Guys– I’m on the phone here,” I scolded them as the floppy-haired guy gave me his best smoulder. “Lukas, no.”

“It’s alright, y/n,” I heard Eric say, though I could tell it wasn’t actually okay. “You go back to your friends. You stay put. Okay? Whatever makes you happiest.”

“But you make me h–” Before I could even finish my sentence, Eric had hung up the phone. “Happiest…” I mumbled before placing the horn back on the receiver.

“You okay?” the blonde guy I knew best as Alex Mercer asked me solemnly.

I pressed my lips together. “No– not really…”

Luke wrapped his arms around my waist and snuggled into my neck while Reggie sat on the end of my bed with his legs crossed. “I think you ought to go visit him,” he said.

“What?”

“No, seriously. You miss him, he misses you and you clearly need each other right now. Go back to Philly, y/n. Even if it’s just for the weekend.” For once, Reggie actually spoke some sense.

“Yeah, I mean, you clearly miss each other and you need each other right now. And maybe, whilst you’re there, you can figure out whether you’d wanna move back to Philly or come back to us,” Alex added.

I had met Luke, Reggie, Alex and Bobby during orientation day, along with Rose, my roommate. There hadn’t been a day where we didn’t spend time together. All six of us were sewn to the hip. Wherever one went, the others went too. A lot of people called Rose and I their groupies as the four of them had started a band way back in high school. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say those four were actually married to one another.

But to be fair, Alex and Reggie were speaking some truth now. I did miss Eric. I missed him tremendously. And maybe, once there, I could see that Los Angeles was truly where I belonged or if I should stay in Philadelphia with Eric… It was the ultimate life test.

I heaved in a deep breath before lifting my hand to ring the doorbell at apartment 3E. Nerves bunched in the pit of my stomach and my hands were getting clammy. I wasn’t even sure if Eric was home. I wasn’t even sure if coming over was such a splendid idea. I wasn’t sure of anything anymore.

Even less so when a tall fiery red-haired girl opened up the door. My throat dried up for a second. Did I get the wrong apartment? Eric hadn’t told me about a girl roommate or anything. All I knew was that he lived with Jack and Shawn. Though I figured since Shawn had gotten into Pennbrook too, he might’ve moved into a dorm with Cory.

“Hi, can I–” the girl stopped in her tracks as she let her eyes glide over me. “You’re y/n, aren’t you?” Her lips curled up into a smile. “Eric has told me so much about you!”

The nerves in my stomach made room for fluttery butterflies. Eric talked about me. Even to girls as pretty as this one. Knowing Eric the way I do, I didn’t think he ever would. ‘Girl repellant’ he’d call it.

“Uhm… Yeah… I wanted to surprise him… Is he here?”

The girl chuckled. “Believe it or not, but he’s actually in class right now.”

“Eric? In class?”

She nodded her head, her lips curling up into a smirk. “I’m heading to campus now, you wanna come? His class is almost over.”

It definitely beat sitting here, waiting for him.

“Sure,” I replied and the girl quickly went to grab her stuff before walking out and guiding me towards the elevator again.

“I’m Rachel, by the way. I just moved in a couple days ago,” she said while pushing the button to call the elevator.

Rachel. Roommate Rachel. She was definitely Eric’s type… A girl.

“Eric hasn’t told me about you yet. For a second, I thought I was at the wrong apartment,” I said, chuckling a little.

Rachel and I got into the elevator and she told me about how she wound up living with Jack and Eric. I had to admit to myself that I was only slightly jealous of the moves the two boys had made on her. Not that I cared about Jack hitting on Rachel, but I did care about Eric doing it.

The red-haired fury led me towards campus and we talked all the way there. Mostly about Eric. She asked me questions about our childhood and I told her every single story about him. It wasn’t hard talking about Eric. Everything we went through together flowed out of me like a waterfall. A waterfall of Eric-filled stories.

“Oh, look. He’s at the Student Union, as predicted,” Rachel said, pointing towards where Eric, Jack, Shawn and Cory were seated on the sofas, sipping coffee.

A smile involuntarily crept its way up to my face. Eric Matthews. Seeing him now made my heart beat faster and my stomach fill up with all sorts of butterflies. My LA boys were right. I did miss him tremendously.

“Come on, let’s go say hi!” Rachel urged, pulling me along by my wrist.

“Don’t you have a class to go to?”

She shook her red mane. “I’d rather see this beautiful reunion,” she said.

Cory was the first one who met my eyes. His laughter made room for confusion to then turn into delight. “Y/N?” he exclaimed, causing everyone’s head to turn my way before he got up to embrace me. Jack and Shawn hugged me next and when I turned to Eric, he was still seated on the couch with his cup of coffee halfway to his lips.

“What are you doing here?” he finally asked.

I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear nervously. “What? Aren’t you happy to see me?”

His wide eyes turned back to normal and as he put his cup on the coffee table in front of him, he blabbed while getting up to hug me. “Wha– of course I’m happy to see you, y/n. I just didn’t expect you to come? Don’t you have classes and stuff?”

I inhaled the familiar scent of Eric Matthews. As my senses filled up with him, my nerves finally calmed down. I was home.

“I wanted to surprise you…”

His hands cupped my face as he regarded me. He inspected every inch of my face as if to see if I was complete and really there. “And surprised I am,” he whispered.

Shawn handed me a cup of coffee as we all settled back onto the couch. They asked me questions about LA and about college in LA, and I answered each and every one of them. It felt good being with this gang again. It was like coming back home.

Eric took me everywhere that weekend. Friday night, we went to Chubbie’s. On Saturday, he took me back home where I reacquainted with Alan and Amy, and we spent some time with Morgan.

Now it was Saturday night and we were all at the club for a good party. I was three drinks in and chatting with Rachel at the bar. I had grown close to her over the two days I had been here. Just like Rose, she always knew exactly what to say. And she listened. She listened to all my sorrows and worries. She really listened.

“I think you’re in love with Eric,” she stated before taking a swig of her beer.

“What? No! I–” She raised an eyebrow at me. “I am in love with Eric…”

She let out a cackle. “Ha! I knew it!”

“I can’t act up on my feelings though, Rachel. We live miles apart. Being friends is already hard enough, I don’t even wanna know what being a couple would do to us. If Eric would reciprocate my feelings, that is.”

“Would you believe me if I told you Eric is in love with you too?”

“No.”

“Well, he is! The way his eyes light up when he talks about you… It’s pure love. Sure, he can be a bit daft and he’s not the sharpest tool in the shed, but when he talks about you, he almost becomes poetic.”

“You’re ridiculous,” I said and sipped from my beer again.

Rachel shook her head at me. “See for yourself.” She pointed somewhere behind me and the second I turned around, Eric was in front of me with those big, sparkly eyes of his and that goofy smile I’d come to love.

“Dance with me, baby!” he shouted and pulled me along to the dance floor. As I looked back at Rachel, she gave me a knowing look. She wasn’t right. She couldn’t be.

“I need you to stay,” he slurred, clearly having drank one too many beers. “Please, can’t you stay?”

“Eric,” I sighed, “You know I can’t. I’ve got –”

“A degree to finish and friends to go back to, I know, I know…”

I pressed my lips together in a thin line as I watched him. He was still moving, swaying from side to side to the music, but there was a lot less enthusiasm behind than before we started talking.

“Hey,” I started and placed my hands on his shoulders. “You know I would stay if I could, right? I just – I can’t, Eric.”

“Yes, you can, y/n. You can stay here, transfer to Pennbrook, live with me and Jack and Rachel. Be here. With me.”

His offer sounded alluring. A little too alluring. The alcohol coursing in my veins almost made me say ‘yes’, but the sober part of me knew that wouldn’t be a good idea. “I need a better reason than that, Eric.”

“I’ve got more reasons for you to stay.”

“Gimme one.”

Before I could properly process what was happening, Eric grabbed my face and pressed his lips to mine in a deep kiss. As we pulled apart for a moment, I had to take a breather and process what had just happened.

“That’s a good reason,” I whispered before kissing him again.

I didn’t know if it was the alcohol or the fact that we’d actually wanted to do that for a long time, but the rest of the night we spent together, making out in a corner of the club until Rachel and Jack pulled us apart and brought us back to the apartment. Eric and I fell asleep together on the couch, cuddled up. The place where I’d wanted to fall asleep for months now. The place where I belonged.

It felt weird waking up in his arms. Not that we hadn’t done that before, but the events that preceded it were new. I hadn’t ever been kissed the way Eric had kissed me last night. It was with so much passion and love that filled up all my senses, that sobered me up almost straight away.

Though, when he woke, it was like nothing happened.

He didn’t speak about it, and changed the subject whenever I tried to. I didn’t know what had gone wrong. It was probably a mistake on his part. He probably didn’t want to kiss me. It was probably the alcohol speaking and not his heart. He didn’t love me the same way I loved him.

It was all a mistake.

“How was your night?” Alan asked playfully when we entered the Matthews’ kitchen for lunch on Sunday.

“Good! We had fun,” I replied and glanced over at Eric. He had jammed his hands into the pockets of his jeans as he moved over towards the fridge.

“It was okay,” he spoke and shoved a knife right through my chest.

I had no clue what I had done wrong or what had gone wrong. All I knew was that Eric was giving me the cold shoulder. The kiss must’ve been a mistake. It must’ve been something he didn’t even want to do and it was just the alcohol taking over. And now it had ruined our entire friendship.

“When’s your flight back home?” Amy queried.

I placed my knife and fork down as I had just finished the delicious lunch Amy had made all of us. “Tonight at eight,” I responded with a nervous smile. My stomach churned when I felt Eric tense up next to me.

“Back to Northridge then, huh? Must be a big change going from cold Philadelphia back to warm and sunny LA,” Alan said with a smile and I nodded my head.

“It’s gonna be quite the di–” before I could finish my sentence, Eric had shoved his chair back and without uttering a word, he stormed out of the kitchen. I could feel my heart break in my chest. He seemed angry. Frustrated. All of the things I didn’t want him to be before I went back to LA.

“I’ll go check on him,” I said and carefully slid my chair back before following Eric outside.

He sat on the cushioned bench where we have had many a talk before as the sun set and the stars appeared into the sky. Though right now, it seemed awfully dark and gloomy. Nothing like what it used to feel like.

“Eric, are you okay?” I plopped down next to him, placing my hand on his shoulder.

He scoffed. “No, I’m not okay. You know, I didn’t ask you to come here. I didn’t ask you to visit me. I didn’t ask and so I couldn’t prepare for you to leave… Again.”

“Eric, I’m sorry. I thought it would be nice to surprise you. I–” I stopped talking as soon as he shot up from the bench and took a few steps away from me. He looked angry and sad at the same time and it broke my heart even further.

“Don’t you know how much it kills me to see you go every time? But at least in the summer, I can prep myself for the goodbye that’s about to follow. I can prep myself for the heartache and now that I didn’t see it coming, I’m not ready for you to go.”

I opened my mouth to say something else, but before I could, he gave me another glare and then stormed off to God-knows-where. I couldn’t move. I was frozen to the bench. My best friend just yelled at me and ran off. I didn’t even say goodbye to him.

“Miss y/l/n, what a surprise,” a familiar voice sounded, causing me to snap my head towards the older man that stood in the next-door garden on the other side of the white fence.

I smiled at him, but I knew it wasn’t genuine and I knew he knew it wasn’t. “Hey Mister Feeny.”

“Are you okay?” he asked and opened the small gate. He made a beeline towards me and sat down on the bench next to me.

I heaved in a deep breath, breathing in the familiarity of my old teacher. “No, I –” I mulled over my words. “I missed Eric, so I came to surprise him but I think it might’ve not been such a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“‘Cause now he’s mad at me because he couldn’t prepare himself for me leaving…” I mumbled, focusing on the rings on my fingers as I twisted them around and around. “I don’t know what to do, Mister Feeny. I wanna stay with Eric, but I’ve got a life in LA. I’ve got friends and I’ve got Northridge and my family still lives there too…”

I looked up to see my favorite teacher regard me with such a tender and familiar look. He felt sorry for me and I also knew there was a pep-talk coming in a few seconds. Though at that moment, I wasn’t sure if I was in the mood for that pep-talk.

“I’m going to tell you the same thing I told Miss Lawrence when she came to me with her dilemma,” he started wistfully, the only way Mister Feeny ever spoke. “You stay at Northridge unless you have a good reason not to.”

My mind immediately went to last night’s events when Eric kissed me after he told me he had reasons for me to stay. If I had a reason, it would be Eric. Eric would be the one and only reason for me to move back to Philadelphia and I couldn’t lie when I said Eric weighs out every other reason I had for going back to LA.

“I think you know what to do, Miss y/l/n,” he said before placing a comforting hand on my shoulder and getting up again.

“Hey, Mister Feeny,” he stopped halfway to his house. “You’re a good teacher, you know that?” The genuine and heartwarming smile that curled Feeny’s lips upwards made me feel nostalgic. I had missed that man.

“Thank you, Miss y/l/n. And you’re a good student.”

As Mister Feeny returned to his home, I couldn’t help but think everything over. Every thought, every moment of the past weekend seeped back into my mind. There was only one way to stop my thoughts and I knew exactly what it was.

“Y/N?” His voice caused me to snap out of my thoughts. There he was. Finally. “What are you still doing here?” he asked, visibly getting nervous. “I thought you’d gone home?”

I patted the spot next to me on the cushioned bench. Eric hesitantly took the spot, but I could tell he was tense and didn’t quite know what to do. He didn’t look at me and his hands fiddled around in his lap.

“I am home.”

Now he looked up at me. Confusion was written all over his face, a look I had seen on him before. The reminder of everything I ever told him that confused him made me giggle a little.

“What do you mean? Don’t you have to get back to LA? Back home?” He turned his face back to the sky. It was starting to get dark out and the stars above us were starting to make an appearance, along with the bright moon.

“I talked to Feeny and he told me that I should go back to Northridge…” I watched Eric’s jaw clench. “Unless I had a good reason not to.”

He turned his head to face me again. “Is there a good reason?”

I sighed. “I thought about it. I’ve got reasons to go back. Like my degree and my friends out there, my family…” Eric slowly nodded his head and I knew his mind was already preparing him for me to say I was going to go back. “But there’s one reason that makes me wanna stay here. One reason that outweighs all the other reasons.”

“And what’s that?”

A soft smile befell my lips as I leaned in and cautiously pressed my lips to his. Last night’s memories seeped back into my mind.

“You’re the reason, Eric Matthews.”

He smiled as his eyes darted from mine to my lips and back before he fully kissed me on the lips. I couldn’t help but giggle before melting completely into the kiss, into him. After years of being best friends and months of pining for him, I was finally kissing my best friend. I had finally given into my feelings.

And I was making the right decision. I knew that now. I knew that moving back to Philadelphia would be the right choice. I would be moving back home. Back with Eric. Close to Cory and Shawn and Jack and Topanga. All of my friends from when we were younger. Home.

The only thing left to do now was break the news to my friends in LA…

But that was a problem for later.

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TAGLIST | MASTERLIST

#boy meets world #eric matthews #eric matthews x reader #eric matthews x fem!reader #eric matthews fic #jatp x bmw #jatp x bmw crossover #cw: alcohol #cw: party

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whaleofatjme1920 · 3 years

Text

Seeing Him Smile and Kiss Someone Else (Hoodie X F!Reader)

[Hoodie/Brian Thomas X F!Reader]

[Warnings: none]

[AN: Howdy! I cross post these on quotev under ‘Elsie I Guess’ and on AO3 under ‘Whaletales1920′ under the title ‘The Places You Shouldn’t Be’. Just thought I’d start uploading them here too.]

Part 2

Proxies aren’t supposed to do a lot of things: speak back to their master, challenge hierarchical roles, have relationships with each other of that caliber, and never, never ever absolutely never have romantic relationships with humans.

Why? It’s a losing game. Everyone knows that. Should proxies seek any kind of attachment, platonic, romantic, even sexual, their best bet is to stay within their own kind: other proxies. It’s the polite thing to do. It’s the right thing to do.

When you first came in, you bonded almost immediately to your group of four other individuals. There’s Masky, your group leader. He’s really sweet when he wants to be and seems to care the most about you - it’s probably because you’re new. Toby is akin to the middle child. He’s always buzzing around you a lot like a bumblebee. While he has his jerk moments, he’s got an eye out for you. So too does Kate, once the group’s newbie/runt. She’s the one you replaced. She’s relatively quiet and sticks to herself, but she’s never a stranger to helping you out and immersing you in the culture and world you’ve found yourself entangled in.

And then there’s Masky’s right hand, a proxy named Hoodie, but you know him as Brian. Out of all your group members, Brian was the hardest to warm up to. He hardly acknowledged you when you were first placed in his group and was amongst the hardest in the hazing process (you’re still technically going through). But, after some time and getting to know each other, the two of you became the closest of friends, even going so far as to rival Masky’s friendship with him. It’s safe to say you got a bit of a crush on him, in simplest terms.

Three times. Three times you felt you liked him.

The first time was when you were about to head out of your safe house on a grocery run. Proxies don’t have any leads, so cards are absolutely off the table. You walked out of the safe house, yawning slightly, and barely made it down the driveway when Brian had popped back out of the house.

“Reader,” he called out, slowly moving to lean in the doorway of the empty house the five of you were squatting in.

“Yeah?” You asked sleepily.

“Forgetting something?” He holds up his hand - it’s the wallet.

You feel heat rush to your cheeks as you speed walked back to the front door to retrieve it. “Guess I’m still kinda tired,” you admittedly awkwardly with a small chuckle.

Brian shrugged slightly and threw you a smirk as he met you halfway, “Think I’ll accompany you this morning,” he said with a wink.

The two of you began to walk as you mentally mulled over the man walking beside you - his hands in his pockets. You’d never really thought of him like that before, but the way he smiled and that wink… It planted a seed. You weren’t quite sure you were going to acknowledge it or if it was just a fluke, but the thought stayed, and then it remained.

As the two of you traversed the grocery store for various things your comrades had asked for, you and Brian traded conversation about everything that popped into mind.

“Oh, like you knew any better in high school,” you wheezed before tossing in a box of brownies. You’d just been discussing how terrible and how gods awful high school relationships can be and how at one low point, you got into one. Brian had said he knew better than to mess around in high school, but you had retorted that ‘we’re all young and dumb once.’

Brian raised a brow at the box but allowed it anyway. “I most certainly did and I knew how things were gonna play out before they even happened.”

“On what basis? It’s not like you have future vision,” You snorted. You watched as he pushed the cart forward as you plucked items you needed from the shelves.

He shot you a look. “I’m a guy, it’s practically flowing through our veins,,” he said as his eyes raked over the list. “I’d most likely be the reason those things are happening to begin with and knowing that is like it’s own future vision..” He flashed his smile at you. “Come to think of it, I don’t think I ever grew out of the dumb part,” he chuckled.

Your heart skipped.

The second time you thought you liked him was when you were in the car with him, heading back to your safe house (in an entirely different part of the country). The two of you were more than exhausted after clearing a house whose occupants the Operator wanted dead for one reason or another and Brian decided to steal a car. So, there you sat in the passenger seat.

“Something on your mind?” He hummed, arm resting on the console. His hazel colored eyes flicked over to you with interest.

You shrugged, “just thinking.”

“Dangerous for people like us,” Brian chuckled. “Care to get specific?”

You sighed slightly and turned your eyes to the passing street lights overhead as the car pulled onto the late night expressway. “Thinking about all the things I’ll miss,” you admit.

Brian nodded from the corner of your eye. “I think about that stuff too,” he said, a small frown pulling onto his face. “You were finishing up college?”

“Yeah,” you said. “I mean, I guess I’m getting out of the college loan debt but… Y’know,” you trailed off slightly, your posture changing slightly. “Maybe I would’ve been normal. Get a cool job, live a non murderous life, have a family and a loving partner. I don’t know, like, whatever the American dream says we should have. Anything but this.”

Brian laughed slightly, “sorry. It’s not - it’s not you,” he explained. “It’s just awfully similar to what I wanted.”

You turned your attention from the passing lights over to Brian. “White picket fence is your thing?”

“More or less,” he hummed. “Wanted to live the rest of my life like a normal person.

Certainly died like one, more or less,” he finished.

You mentally hummed, already knowing what he was referring to. Died and got resurrected. “Don’t think falling from a floor up counts as normal.”

“Hey, it worked out for…. Something nice,” he quickly chirped. “Fell and met an angel.”

He briefly turned his head to look at you and flashed a grin.

“Oh that’s so bad.”

“You love it.”

You really do.

The third time was when the two of you were on the rooftop of some house you’d been spending a lot of time at. It was kind of nice to be able to settle down in one place for more than a month - it’d been going on close to a year. It was your roof, the one you shared with Brian. Late in the night, when the crickets sang and the stars danced, the two of you snuck up against Masky’s best wishes to talk about the world and life before.

When summer was giving way to autumn and sending cool breezes throughout the night, you and Brian had been up there once again.

“You think EJ will be around?” You asked, looking up at the stars you barely knew the names to. “BEN did say he was in the area.”

“Gonna say yes,” Brian hummed back, momentarily pausing to point out Altair. “He’s always had a soft spot for our group,” he noted. “Why? You looking forward to seeing him?” He chuckled, hand reaching out to ruffle your hair.

You laugh as quietly as you can and shake your head, “we’ve hardly ever spoken!” You giggled. “I just think he’s cool.”

Brian snorted in response and nodded, “yeah, I think so too. Though, where’d you get the opportunity to talk with BEN?”

“There’s a little computer cafe in town,” you said, eyes flicking towards the direction of said cafe. “I’ve been spending a lot of time there. Mostly to use the internet,” you admitted, a slight heat coming to your cheeks. Proxies really aren’t supposed to use the internet. “Toby also sometimes tags along.”

“So that’s where he’s been getting those weird references from,” Brian said with a tone of understanding. “Next time you go, let me know. I’d love to see what you children are up to online,” he teased.

You laughed again and nodded, “sure thing.”

The two of you continued to talk before a particularly hard gust of wind came in. On instinct, you shivered - though you weren’t really cold.

Upon seeing you shiver, Brian took no hesitation in taking off his hoodie, much to your chagrin.

“Oh, you don’t have to-” you began as you attempted to push it towards him.

“I insist,” he had said, already popping the thing over you.

You relented and allowed the giant hoodie to envelop your form like a warm hug. It smelled just like him - something woodsy, smoke, and the faintest of graphite. When you looked back at Brian, he was staring up at the stars, a small smile on his face. His eyes did not leave the inky blueish-black, not even when your hand came within millimeters of holding his.

All it took was three times. Three times to know you liked him, and once to know you’d lost him.

As stated before, it is absolutely a losing game to get involved with humans. Humans are frail and prone to panic. They can’t understand the world the way you do, nor are they suited for life the way you are in their current form. In your society, humans are the lowest of the low, akin to cattle - albeit, sentient cattle. Only when they are lifted from their human status are they finally given the time of day.

He never would have known about her if you never brought up that computer cafe. Truly, it was a mistake on your part. You didn’t mean to, but it had happened anyway.

“Cute place, right?” You smiled, eyes traveling up and down the rows of tables.

“The cutest,” Brian agreed with a small chuckle. “Do we go up to a counter and order or..?” He trailed off slightly as he inspected the place and took in all the minor details.

“Just take a seat, a waiter will be around shortly,” you said, immediately pulling him to your preferred spot by the windows and tucked away into the corner.

Brian followed your lead and took a seat next to you where he immediately powered on the computer. “It’s kinda weird that they let us have food this close to the electronics, no?”

“Oh no, it’s super weird,” you nodded as you began flicking open tabs to get to the things you wanted - maybe say hi to BEN. “But, it works. So like, c’est la vie?” You giggled, fingers moving quickly across the keyboard.

A few moments later, a waitress stopped by. You had already managed to pull up a chat with BEN and were so engrossed in catching up with him that you failed to notice her. You hadn’t even recognized she was there until you heard her giggling at something Brian had said.

“Never thought I’d be that star struck,” Brian had finished the small anecdote with eyes that practically sparkled.

Her smile only widened. “You? The star struck kind?” She teased lightly. “Have to see it to believe it.”

Brian looked up at her, his lips now pulled up into a smile. “You’re looking at it right now.”

It pulled you so hard out of your conversation with BEN that you’d accidentally sent him a half-baked thought. “Wait what?”

Your sound of confusion had snapped the two back into reality. “Oh! I’m sorry, sugar,” the waitress apologized with a slight blush rising to her cheeks. “Was there something I could get you?”

You blinked a few times, your eyes darting between the two before finally managing to stammer out your drink and pastry of choice. You watched as Brian’s eyes followed her out and when she came back in.

Long after the two of you had finished, the two of you decided to head back.

“That was fun,” you said.

“It was,” Brian replied, thoughts drifting elsewhere.

Ever since that moment, he’d been going to the café with and without you. Sometimes you’d find yourself heading there only to see him entranced in conversation with the waitress, and when that happened, you turned right back around. At first it was to give them space, and then it was to give yourself space.

You wished you could allow yourself to weather through this one with grace and that it didn’t bother you, that it didn’t get on your nerves, but it did. Slowly but surely, it had chipped away at some odd part of you that you didn’t even know existed prior to.

Masky was the first to bring it up.

“Reader,” he began. “Can you wrangle Hood from that café? Operator wants us to do something - I just need him,” he said, barely looking up from his newspaper.

“I can go if you want,” you suggested before poking your head back out from the refrigerator.

“Hm?” That got Masky’s attention. “Are you sure?” He raised his eyebrow, giving you an inquisitorial look.

“It’s no big deal,” you said with a small smile as you plucked your drink out from the fridge. “Besides, I think Hoodie’s busy.” You had to fight the unpleasant feeling that bubbled up in your chest after you said that.

“Oh,” Masky gave a hum of recognition. “Toby did mention he was getting a little close to someone there,” he said in passing.

You shot Masky a look.

He shot one back.

Internally, you both know that’s not the best thing - but Masky’s not going to stop his best friend. And you know you won’t either.

Kate mentioned it next, though she seemed to be telling you that you’d get over it. It came relatively out of the blue. See, the two of you were standing in the living room of a house painted in blood just chatting, waiting for the Operator to give you direction on what he wanted for the man he wanted alive when Kate got weirdly serious. She sat down on the sofa and invited you to sit down next to her.

“You can’t keep avoiding him like that,” she hummed, her shoe digging into the man’s chest as he wriggled beneath her step. “I know it’s awkward, but he’s your comrade first.”

You rolled your eyes and lightly pushed at her. “Come on, it’s not that serious,” you said, attempting to play off your feelings that were so gods damn obvious throughout the time you’ve been spending in this area.

“Are you kidding me?” Kate chuckled. “Look,” her hand is on your shoulder as she digs her heel into the man’s chest, cracking his ribs slightly. “It’s uncomfortable. I get that. It’s why we don’t… Do that kind of thing.” She rubbed her thumb in little circles on your shoulder as she grounded you. “It’s probably for the best, even though you can’t see it right now.”

You sighed and gave her a look of slight pain. “You’re probably right.”

“I know I’m right.”

It’s not that Toby is bad at reading a room, but it’s that he’s really bad at reading a room. When the two of you went to the computer café for your outing, he was excited to see the girl Brian was ‘seeing,’ as he somehow managed to miss her from every other precious visit. It was so obvious that they had been - her perfume was practically embedded into his skin now - and his smile was brighter than the sun after seeing her.

And here you were, not even wanting to know her name.

It’s Fiona.

“Toby!” She greeted as she bounded up to your table. “Reader! What a nice surprise!” There was no malice in her tone. She was genuinely happy to see you. “What can I get you two today?”

“C-Chocolate croissant and some h-h-hot chocolate please,” Toby said. He then turned to you, and as if he read your mind, gave her your order as well. “H-How have t-things been?” He asked.

“Really good,” Fiona replied. “He’s such a sweetie, got me this necklace.”

Your eyes immediately left the screen and travelled to her neck. There it was. Beautiful necklace. Silver chain with a hunk of rose quartz at the bottom in the shape of a bullet.You remembered seeing that pendant. It hung on his mirror for such a long time. You once overheard him saying to Kate how it was your possible birthday gift.

“It’s so pretty,” you smiled, eyes not quite following.

You were damn certain if you were suffering from hanahaki you would’ve choked on flowers by now and died. The last nail in the coffin?

Now. Right now. You came back to the safe house just wanting to relax, maybe star gaze for a bit and fall asleep outside - anything and everything sounded better than just being alone in your thoughts after the Operator had some harsh words to say to you on account of your performance slipping ever so slightly from his golden standards. You fix yourself a warm mug of tea and start making yourway to the rooftop. It’s the same path you’ve always taken: head up the stairs to the upper floor, last room on the left side of the hall, go in and open the study windows there and hang out on the roof.

You make sure to take careful steps as you ascend, not wanting to spill any of your carefully made tea as you seek to unwind. With a deep breath, you start making it through the hallway, thankful no one else is here. Masky is away on business, Kate is doing something with Jeff and Toby left a few hours ago to meet with someone he deems important. Come to think of it, you haven’t had the house free in a while.

But, as you step closer and closer to the last room on the left, you hear it. Giggling, whispers, conversation that’s so innocent and intimate at the same time. You notice the study door is closed. It’s never closer. You step closer.

“You’re so sweet,” That’s Fiona’s voice. “You don’t have to get me all these things - I don’t even know where I’m gonna wear all of them.” She giggles.

“Wear a different one every time I come to see you.” That’s Brian. “Gonna be burning through those things like crazy.” You hear the sound of a kiss.

“You got a deal,” Fiona chuckled. Another kiss.

You hear the roof shingles move slightly as they move closer together. Against your better judgment, you push open the study door slightly. Must you be so nosy?

There, sitting on the roof outside the window is Fiona and Brian. She’s wearing his sweater (it’s just polyester) and giggling as he peppers her face in kisses. When she’s decided he’s covered her in enough kisses for an entire year, she presses her lips to his.

He smiles before kissing her back just as fervently.

Without a sound, you begin to head back to your room.

Perhaps tea in your room would be better.

#hoodie #marble hornets #masky #brian thomas #creepypasta #xreader #reader insert #creepypasta x reader #marble hornets x reader #ticci toby #mh #reader

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roanniom · 3 years

Note

Hey Issa, my sweet honey bun! I don’t send many requests to people, so bear with me. I’ll forever wait for the day you write Kylo, but until then I’ll throw this one at you for Charlie. I had a wander through the prompt list, and I kinda liked “I’ll feel better if you let me walk you home.” with Charlie being all protective of reader, unsure if she reciprocates his feelings. And because I’m a garbage can of filth, I also loved “I’m not made of glass. You won’t break me.” if you wanted to move into smut. I hope this gets the creative juices flowing? Take your time, no pressure ever! 💕💕💕

@paper-n-ashes as you know I have been holding onto this and chipping away at it steadily for FOREVER so I can get it just right for you, so I hope you enjoy it, my love <3

Push

Charlie Barber x Reader

Word Count: 6,862

Warnings: NSFW, fingering, PIV sex / unprotected sex, light light light choking (not even really), mention of infidelity (just canon from Marriage Story plot), a lil post-divorce angst/lack of confidence

The above photo is Charlie Barber, 1-year post divorce. He’s been working out as a form of anger management and because Henry, over many late night phone conversations, has shared his new love of hiking, a pastime he’s picked up since living in LA. Charlie plans to take Henry hiking on the Appalachian trail next summer break and wants to be on tip top shape to keep up with his enthusiastic son.

He’s been to therapy. Learning more about what went wrong in his marriage, but more specifically learning about how he can become a better person in the aftermath. How infidelity and self-interest were born of a deep-seated need for a love that he was not receiving. A love that was no closer to him prior to his indiscretions but all the same rendered unreachable as a result. He’s given himself time to grieve the man he’d thought himself to be. Because that is what had died with his marriage - not Charlie Barber himself. But the Charlie Barber he’d built in his mind. A man limited by support that came with conditions, love that came with caveats. That Charlie was a father and a husband. He was often suppressed, wound tight, on edge.

This Charlie is a father and a man. He is free to celebrate his own success without fear of wounding nearby egos. He’s limited only by what he feels he deserves. And granted sometimes those self-imposed limitations can really hold him down, as they did when he vowed not to jump into any further entanglements - affairs or otherwise - in the time immediately following his divorce. But that limitation was ultimately beneficial. It gave him space to be alone - with himself, for himself. He was able to finally see his own flaws with his own eyes instead of having them recited back to him by another, as if through a crude, second hand reflection. And in seeing these flaws, he also saw the virtues. Charlie was actually starting to like himself again.

And this is when he meets you.

You storm into his life with an energy he doesn’t recognize, introduced at a party by a friend of a friend, filling his senses with your too-loud-laughter and too-bright-eyes. In many ways that’s how he sees you: too much. Your enthusiasm makes you appear too young, though in truth you’re not that much younger than him. Your smile makes you appear too beautiful, though in truth there are often much more conventionally attractive women in the room at any given time.

“Charlie. Charlie Barber,” Charlie mutters as he shakes your hand. Its warm in his larger one and he’s suddenly a little self-conscious of the fact that he’d been holding his sweating scotch on the rocks just moments before the contact.

“Hello Charlie-Charlie Barber,” you reply with a massive grin, shaking his hand back vigorously and with seemingly no reaction to its clamminess. “The famous director, I assume?”

Charlie clocks the quirk of your eyebrow. A tease. A social cue he’s not used to. Not these days. He looks down at his worn tennis shoes, all too aware all at once of the way they dress down his sweater and jeans. He feels rumpled next to you and he’s not sure he likes it. You’re too put together.

You’re too honest, too fearless, too open to new things. Though Charlie’s beginning to grow, your presence reminds him of how stunted he’d been in his marriage. How the same old restaurants, the same old clothes, the same old glass of the same old scotch had become items of comfort for him, talismans of a previous life that he clung to for some semblance of familiarity. Around you, however, those same old things looks dull and uninspired. Quite the opposite of you.

You are the one to ask him out, though he’s not even really aware that it’s a date at all when he arrives. That’s how much he doesn’t see you coming. His affair had been one of convenience. An opportunity to blow off excess steam, and a pretty disappointing one at that, with neither party really find what they were chasing. His marriage had grown cold long before it had ended. All of this to say that Charlie wasn’t very familiar with warmth. With interest that occurred in the light of day, and attention that was given without anything sought in return.

You’re halfway through lunch before you realize that he doesn’t understand your intentions. So you explain them to him. Clear and empty of any pretense. You are attracted to him and interested in getting to know him further. It’s simple, really. He’s shocked by your openness and the absence of any games. In another life he’d once assumed that a relationship without strife, without agony, without strategic tug of war would be one without passion. However, as he soon learns while taking you out on the second date, that he couldn’t have been farther from the truth.

Over dinner this time he finds himself getting lost in your micro-expressions. Finds his eyes lingering on the animated way you gesture, finds his words getting twisted in his tongue as your gaze weighs on him, expectant and waiting for a response to some question. His bodily responses to your attention are no less potent in the absence of angst. In fact, he is surprised to find that his yearning practically triples when you part ways and he realizes not once had he been made to feel like he had to prove something, or fight, or challenge.

He learns over time that you challenge him in other ways. Challenge him when it comes to picking restaurants outside his comfort zone. Challenge him by dragging him, mid-lunch date, on a shopping trip with you, a trip where you gently help him to finally replace the worn out tennis shoes to which he’d been clinging. Challenge him by laughing with him, not at him, even when the subject of the humor is himself. Your laughter is lighter, more carefree, than he is used to. Then again, he’s not used to being around someone like you.

He kisses you after the third date – the lunch-turned-shopping trip. It’s quick and it’s light, on the curb before an intersection on the East Side, right before you both are about to walk in separate directions. You say nothing when he pulls away. Just smile and turn on your heel, already headed to your next destination. It drives Charlie crazy over the next few days. Not because he assumes you have some hidden agenda. On the contrary, he’s horrified that your interior thoughts match your exterior actions. You have been nothing but honest with him. It is Charlie who has been oscillating wildly in his mind. Between thoughts of how much it might hurt if you turn out to be too good to be true and thoughts of how much he’d love to feel your body on his. To explore the mouth you use so effortlessly to tease him, to compliment him, to charm him. You speak kindness like pleasantries, as if affirmations and praise were as easy to dole out as a cheery “good morning” on a stress-free Saturday. Charlie wants to know what you’re like on a Saturday. Away from the bustle of the city. Away from the common friends and the crowded shops and restaurants that have buffered all of your encounters.

But Charlie’s still afraid.

On your fourth date Charlie is more reserved when you arrive at the restaurant. You break the ice by pointing out that the formality of your dates is beginning to feel silly.

“Maybe it’s the fact that the tables have tablecloths,” you joke, swirling your pasta around a fork. “Or maybe it’s the fact that I’ve never repeatedly had meals with someone I wasn’t already in a relationship with.”

Charlie prickles at the implication, taking a labored swallow of ice water. He doesn’t want to comment on the relationship part of your sentiment so he chooses something more neutral.

“Should I remind you that two of these meals have been at your suggestion and you did, in fact, also plan them as meals.” He relaxes a bit when you laugh heartily at that, relieved that the conversation doesn’t get any more dicey.

“Touché,” you reply. Then you lean forward and whisper conspiratorially at him across the small table. He feels himself lean in, curious but also looking for a chance to just get closer in proximity. He wishes he’d had the courage to sit next to you rather than across from you when he’d first sat down. “Feeling adventurous enough to let me pick where we go after this tonight?”

And Charlie feels adventurous. Adventurous as he lets you whisk him across town and to your favorite arcade bar. Adventurous as he passes you a large handful of quarters he got from the little machine at the front, only to grasp your fist in his when he miscalculates how much of his handful you’d be capable of taking, narrowly avoiding a massive spill of loose change on the floor. Adventurous as he orders a couple of beers and lets you show him your favorite game, Burger Time – a silly little maze game where you collect burger ingredients. Adventurous as he shows you his favorite game, which is pretty much any pinball machine known to man.

“Yours looks cooler than mine,” you huff, walking over to the pinball machine he’s playing once you abandon the one that was definitely broken. Or at least that’s how you justify so many consecutive, immediate losses. Charlie laughs and pulls back the plunger but doesn’t release, effectively pausing his game.

“You wanna try it?” Charlie ushers you in front of him and puts your hand on the plunger beneath his, careful not to release it in the process. “The key is anticipating where the ball will go. It’s all about patterns after a while.”

“Then why does it seem so random?” you ask, looking up at him over your shoulder.

“You just haven’t played enough yet. Over time you can predict what will happen if the ball hits a certain corner. Where it will go if it ricochets juuust right at the last second.”

“Sounds fake but I’ll let you prove it to me,” you say with a laugh, focusing your attention back on the machine.

“We’ll let go in one…two…three.” When you feel the pressure of his hand let up you let go as well, letting him guide both your hands immediately to the buttons on the side of the machine.

For as great as his theory of pinball predictability is, he probably underestimates your ability to suck. Because you do, hard. But you laugh the whole way through, and you never quit. Never turn to him in frustration asking to do something else or even to leave. Instead you keep feeding quarters into the machine and bringing your hands back under Charlie’s on the machine. And no matter how shitty you are, you always at least try to focus.

Charlie, meanwhile, is having a very hard time focusing on anything that isn’t your body. His hips bracket your ass in this helpful position he’s adopted, and he feels your pressure against his pelvis with every enthusiastic wriggle and little jump of frustration that you take in response to the game. When he makes the unfortunate mistake to look down over your shoulder at one point he’s met with a direct view of your cleavage, exposed as it is in your low-cut blouse. Charlie begins to sweat and it has nothing to do with how packed the arcade is or with the exertion of gaming. When he remembers that the arcade is also a bar, he excuses himself to get more beer, hoping that one will cool him off and cool him down.

You dazzle him with a smile thrown over your shoulder when he approaches with the two fresh bottles, and he’s not prepared for how the sight of your face almost knocks him back on his ass.

“Charlie! I did better this time!” He chuckles at your enthusiasm.

“Oh yeah?” he asks, handing you your beer which you sip gratefully.

“I lasted a few more minutes than last time,” you elaborate proudly. “So I’d say that means I now qualify as a pinball wizard.”

“Move over Elton John,” Charlie says with a smirk. You slap him in the shoulder and immediately engage him in a spirited discussion of whether the Elton John movie version of “Pinball Wizard” was better than The Who’s version from the original album. However, after a few minutes Charlie realizes he’s lost in thought. Lost in your voice. Lost in your expressions. Lost in you.

When it finally comes time to leave the arcade, the night drawing much later than it had on your previous nighttime date, Charlie’s scared he’ll be lost without you. The two of you walk together for a couple of blocks before you reach that similar intersection. The place where you part ways.

“I think we really turned around that formality thing, don’t you?” you ask him, turning to Charlie and leaning back against the column of a pedestrian sign. Charlie moves into your space, swallowing his hesitation.

“I don’t know, I began to feel a little unworthy when you ascended past the role of pinball wizard.”

“Oh did I get a promotion?” You ask, tipping your head back so you can look up at him as he steps closer.

“The word wizard conjures up images of wizened old man,” Charlie says dismissively, as if that clears up everything.

“So if you’re saying I don’t remind you of a wrinkled old Merlin – to which might I say, shocker – then what exactly is my new title.”

“One that fits you inside and out.” Charlie braces a hand against the column above your head, his other in his pocket. His head dips down so that it’s closer to your face despite your height difference. You feel warm despite the slight chill in the air.

“And that would be Pinball….?” you prompt.

“Goddess,” he completes the title before pressing his lips to yours. His hands remain on the column and in his pocket until you reach forward and grab a fistful of his sweater, pulling him to you. Then his hands are at your waist, pushing you back into the column. His tongue is in your mouth and your hands are in his hair and he can’t breathe. But he doesn’t want to. He wants to suffocate, wants to asphyxiate on you and the way he feels so tethered to this moment, this intersection, this place where you cannot part ways.

When you break apart to, in fact, breathe, your chest heaves and your smile is radiant.

“As far as kisses goodnight go, I’d say that was top tier,” you say on a laugh. Suddenly Charlie’s throat is constricting and he has to fight his facial muscles to keep from frowning as his hands tighten on your waist.

“That wasn’t a kiss goodnight. Not yet.”

“Any longer and it’ll be a kiss good morning, sir. Have you seen the time?” Your tone is joking. You call people ‘sir’ all the time. It’s a weird quirk of yours, like calling someone dude or pal. But Charlie can feel himself choking on the word, as well as the implications of a ‘kiss good morning.’ All of a sudden he feels like if he could have only one more thing before dying, that’s what he’d ask for. But then he kicks himself internally for being so fucking dramatic and he fiddles with the hem of your shirt.

“Exactly. It’s late.

You survey him from under your eyelashes with a small smile.

“I’ve made this walk many times.”

“It’s dark.”

“I’ve made this walk in the dark many times.”

“I’ll feel better if you let me walk you home.”

Charlie’s heart clenches. Before he can overthink, you’ve ducked out of his hold, grasped his hand and started pulling him down the street.

“C’mon Charlie, hurry up. You’d keep a goddess waiting?” you toss back at him over your shoulder. But in truth it was taking all of Charlie’s self control and the fact that he didn’t know the way to your place to keep him from throwing you over his shoulder and breaking into a full sprint.

~*~

Your place is exactly like you. Eclectic, warm, inviting. There is a moment, as you pull off your coat and turn away to place it and Charlie’s on a coat rack, when Charlie feels much too big for the space. Like he’s some kind of giant invading the home of a sweet little wood nymph. But then his little wood nymph is grabbing him by the front of the shirt and dragging him to a bedroom and the worries fade right out the window.

At first Charlie is gentle with you. His hands ghost over your body as you kiss him beside your bed. When you push him to sit down on the edge of the mattress and step between his open legs to kiss him with a different height dynamic his heart just about jumps clear out of his chest. He hasn’t done this – hasn’t touched or been touched – in so long. The affair had been transactional, just the mechanical motions of sexual gratification. Sex with Nicole, before it stopped, had been even colder, almost as if she had been begrudgingly completing some unwelcome chore.

You, however, are like fire beneath Charlie’s fingers. Your skin, your lips – everything is so warm it feels like you’re too hot to touch. But Charlie would rather risk burning up than to not become accustomed to the feel, the shape, the substance of you. He smooths over your body with a reverential softness, his muscles tense with restraint so as to keep from accidentally pushing you too far too fast. To keep from handling the way that, deep down, he desperately needs.

When your lips suddenly leave his, his brow furrows in frustrations. Before he can open his eyes a soothing finger smooths the furrow away, sliding down the bridge of his nose to press against his kiss-swollen lips. Charlie opens his eyes with a question present in them and you cock your head to the side.

“You’re tense. Like you’re holding back.” The statement isn’t accusatory but it isn’t a question. Charlie takes a shaky breath, unsure about how much he should say. Would his desperation read as too dramatic? Too undesirable? Would his enthusiasm come across as pushy or dominating? His brow must furrow again because your hand moves back up, finger pressing out the wrinkles. He shrugs.

“It’s been…a while for me. I didn’t want to come across as too…much.”

You laugh then and yet again Charlie is struck by how strange it is that you can laugh in his face directly in response to something he’s said without making him feel like you are laughing at him.

“I’m not made of glass. You won’t break me, Charlie.”

“You’re sure about that?” Charlie huffs out with a little chuckle. You give him a smirk and say your next words up against his lips.

“Try me.”

You probably were expecting him to require more cajoling. You probably were expecting him to gradually ease into something more. But Charlie takes you by surprise, grabbing you and pulling you onto the bed with him, rolling so that you’re laid out beneath his body, all the while maintaining hungry possession of your mouth. His body finds its place between your legs and you gasp at the feeling of how huge he is. How hard and insistent against your softness. He drinks from you like a man whose thirst can not be quenched. His hands find purchase on your waist and he squeezes. So hard you’re sure you’ll bruise. You smile against his mouth with the realization that you look forward to watching them bloom later.

Since Charlie seems too preoccupied with groping and making out with you, it is you who eventually takes the next step, beginning to pop open the buttons on your blouse one by one. When Charlie feels the motion of your hands between your bodies he ultimately pulls back to investigate, mouth dropping open at the slow reveal of the lingerie you’re wearing beneath. His hand shoots out to caress the delicate lace of your bra, teasingly not applying any pressure to the breast beneath.

“Do you wear things like this often?” Charlie’s voice is already rough as he asks this. You shrug.

“Whenever I want to feel sexy.”

“You wanted to feel sexy while out with me?” Charlie asks, lifting an eyebrow.

“You made me feel sexier than the lace, Mr. Barber,” you say with a smile before leaning up to capture his lower lip between your teeth. He groans and moves to practically swallow you whole. You’re entirely foreign to him. Enthusiasm, amusement, and enjoyment bundled up into one devastatingly sexy package. There’s no shame in your movements, no angst in your eyes. Just humor. Only an unabashed pursuit of pleasure. And if it’s pleasure you want, it’s pleasure you’ll get.

Charlie now aids you in the process of removing the rest of your garments, so it goes much quicker. When you move to pull off your bra, however, he catches your wrist in his massive hand.

“No…can these stay on?” Your eyebrows shoot up but you notice the way that Charlie is gazing at you with eyes slightly hazy and tongue running over his lips.

“This doing it for you, Charlie?” you tease, shimmying a bit. Charlie’s answer is sincere regardless as he dips his head down to sample the plush skin at the line of your cleavage.

“You have no idea.”

“So you’re a lingerie man, huh?” When you ask he stops to think for a second because, truly, he had never considered himself that way before. He’d never had any reason to. Sure lingerie models in magazines were hot, but it’s not a specific fantasy he’d ever explored previously.

But the sight of you here, strategically covered in lace and laid out beneath him pretty as a picture has him so hard he feels like a teenager unable to control himself. So, as you had urged him, he doesn’t.

“I might be. But really, I’m just enamored by these tits.” His teeth sink into your flesh and you sigh, especially when his tongue comes out to lave warmly at the spot. He moves down your body then, peppering kisses to the exposed skin of your stomach, sliding until your inner thighs rest against the sides of his face and his hands dip below you to squeeze your ass. “Although I feel like this might end up being my favorite part.” He says this last part directly into your clothed cunt, his lips just barely ghosting over the fabric with his words.

You wiggle a bit in his grasp, loving the answering way his fingers dig into your soft flesh. Your fingers card into his lush hair, tugging lightly at the roots, a feeling that shoots through his body and straight to his rock hard member. The way he discretely ruts against the mattress in response does not go unnoticed by you, so you drop a hand under his chin to tip his face back up to look at you.

“Will you fuck me, Charlie?” Your voice is clear and bright. Not playing coy and requiring any convincing. Just asking for something you want. And the hunger in your eyes seems unmistakable, though it still feels to good to be true. Charlie drops his gaze back down to the wet spot forming in your panties before looking back up and practically pouting.

“I’d like to taste you,” he counters. A brilliant smile breaks out across your face at the sound of that but you shake your head.

“There’ll be time for that later,” you argue, tugging on his shoulder to get him back on top of you. “If you don’t get inside me right now I’ll die.”

Charlie almost misses that last part because he’s still stuck on the first part. There’ll be time for that later. The possibility of later squeezes at Charlie’s hard and it’s only after a few echoing seconds that he’s able to process the rest of your statement with a delayed, choking laugh.

“Is someone getting dramatic on me?”

“Not yet, but I will if - ”

“If I don’t get inside you?” Charlie completes the statement in the exact moment a hand drops between your thighs and presses against the soaked fabric covering your slit. You inhale sharply.

“Exactly.”

“I didn’t take you for someone who was pushy in bed,” Charlie says good naturedly, swiping his fingers up the line of you to end with a swirl over where he assumed – correctly – your clit was. You tilt your pelvis to maximize his pressure before surging up to kiss him long and hard.

“I’m actually not. Not really,” you say breathlessly when you finally pull away and drop back down onto the pillows. You stretch luxuriously, almost like a kitten in the sun under his piercing gaze, the movement of your hips bumping his hand to rub you even better. Running your hands up and down the big, strong arms that cage you in and support him, you kiss his shoulder. “I’ve been hoping you would be.”

Suddenly your wrists are being pinned down above your head by one of Charlie’s hands. He’s got your legs open wide with his body sinking against you, hard and heavy.

“Pushy? You want me to be pushy?”

You grin big and wide at him.

“Yeah. Take charge like I know you want – oh!” You’re cut off by the welcome sensation of stimulation as Charlie’s hand drops inside your panties to slide around in your waiting slick. Without the barrier of the fabric between you, the feeling of your velvety slipperiness is enough to make him loose a growl.

He’s not hesitating and he’s not teasing anymore. Charlie has been waiting for this moment. He’s been waiting to care. Been waiting to feel. And what’s heightening the experience even more is the look on your face, the way your lips are parted and the way you gaze up at him longingly, expectantly. Providing all the evidence he needs to prove that you want this too. He wants you and you want him – what a novel idea. There are no angles or obligations, but also no shame or secrecy.

“Well if you wanted me to take charge you should have said so earlier,” he says, the corner of his lip quirking a bit as he dips two fingers inside your soaking cunt, not bothering to start with one. You gasp at the sudden intrusion. The stretch is a lot, but it is everything. Charlie sees the enjoyment register on your face, discomfort melting away almost immediately, and he begins to pull them slowly in and out to massage your walls.

“Maybe – ahh – maybe I should have,” you reply.

“Should I have caused a scene in the arcade?”

“Yes – fuck!” During an inward thrust Charlie curls his fingers up this time, rubbing against that spot in your upper wall that previous guys barely even knew was there. Before you know it he’s adding a third finger and you’re beside yourself. Charlie is elated to see how easily your body responds to his ministrations, how free you are with your reactions. He leans to down to suck a mark over your collar bone while his thumb meets your clit in tandem with his other thrusting fingers.

“You knew what you were doing when you kept rubbing that pretty little ass back into me while I taught you pinball.” His words rumbling against the skin of your throat.

“You made it so easy.”

“And you made it so hard,” Charlie counters, humor very present in his voice. You gasp out a laugh and try to tug your wrists from his grasp, but he doesn’t let you. Just keeps you pinned down as he continues to finger fuck you nice and slow.

“So impatient. I should have known. You’ve been impatient all night, haven’t you?” You whine out affirmations and screw your eyes shut as the pressure starts to build to a crescendo. Charlie picks up speed, his voice growing deeper as he continues. “Wanted me to fuck you on the pinball machine in front of everyone, didn’t you?”

You gasp and toss your head back against the pillows at that, hips bucking involuntarily. Charlie’s nose glides along the perimeter of your jaw, breathing in the scent of you as you fall apart. He’s never felt so powerful as he does with the feeling of your muscles tensing up under his fingertips. Never had the inspiration or audience for such language, but as you shiver and respond to his words, a surge of pride fills him and all he wants to do is dangle you over the edge over and over again.

“Charlie…” His name is a whimper when it falls from your lips. You’re so close. He feels it. So he pushes his fingers deep inside you, curling up with the motion, just as he sweeps one, two, three final circles into the throbbing bud of your clit.

You crest and you break against the tide of your orgasm, plummeting down from such heights you didn’t know you could reach from simple fingering. But there’s nothing simple about Charlie, the man who had been broken and put back together, only to find you, the universe’s overly generous reward for his perseverance.

Charlie’s slightly (unfocused) eyes focus on your heaving chest as you finally descend from the orgasm, but you’re the one to break the spell. Impatient is the perfect way to describe you as you wrap your legs around his middle and hook your ankles to trap him against you. You lunge up to arrest his mouth in a kiss. It’s sloppy, but just enough to distract him so that you can pull your wrists from his grasp. Once free you push him gently to the side so that you’re both rolling over, mouths still attached. He comes to rest on his back with you straddling him.

Charlie blinks up at you, taking in the way your breasts bounce in their bra cups as you busy yourself with the task of removing his clothes. He hadn’t even realized he was still in them until you began unbuttoning and pulling and pushing. Your impatience is clear once again in the way you divest him of the frustratingly excessive material and he finally gets the memo that he should help you.

With his pants and underwear pulled off and discarded, as well as the button up shirt that you had come to love as his signature look, you rest your palms flat on the plane of his chest. You’re still in your lingerie, as he had requested, only it is now beautiful askew. Your breasts now strain out of the cups, having been jostled into almost spilling out with your change of position. Your panties are sopping wet and stretched from his vigorous fingering and the evidence of your orgasm.

You’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

But you become even more beautiful when you wrap your hand around his aching cock, lifting up on your knees as you do so. Your fists slides up and down, up and down and he watches it, mesmerized, until you lean forward to catch his eye.

“What should I do, Charlie?”

Your face is soft and open. You’re asking for him to continue taking the lead. And Charlie realizes right then and there that he will never want to disappoint you. Snapping out his daze he lets his fingers dig into your flesh where his hands curl around your hips.

“Sit down on my cock, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart.

The term of endearment is so sugary. He’s called his son that, but never a lover, casual or otherwise, and never during the first time. Your face, however, lights up and you do as you’re told, sinking down onto his long, hard length. The impact draws a moan from both of your throats followed by gasped phrases spoken over one another.

“You’re so big!”

“You’re so tight!”

You both laugh at the overlap but laughter turns to groans as you roll your hips experimentally. After a few moments of this, it appears that Charlie becomes the impatient one finally.

“Ride me,” he spits through gritted teeth. Your nails imprint half moons in his skin as you clench at his tone, not quite hearing the words. Charlie sucks air through his teeth at the squeeze.

“What?”

“Ride me. I need you to fucking ride me.” You can tell that he’s trying to remain cool and collected, but his brow is furrowed and his bottom lip is caught between his teeth.

So you do as he says. You lift up and drop down, feeling the length of his cock slide through your sheath with a speed that you set, establishing a rhythm that has your toes curling. You let out a particularly shameless moan and Charlie opens his eyes. They widen immediately upon seeing that you’re clutching and squeezing at your own breast with one hand while grabbing onto his hip to stabilize you with the other. The sight alone of your face, screwed up in pleasure, flips a switch in Charlie and suddenly he is thrusting up into you without mercy.

“Charlie!” you cry out, both from surprise at the increased jostling and from how tremendously good it feels.

“I should have fucked you in the arcade. I would have if I had known how good you feel.”

“I – oh fuckfuck – knew,” you barely get out. Charlie hoists you back so that he’s sitting up with his back against the headrest now. The position gives him more leverage and power so he can lift you up and down his cock, bouncing you now with a rhythm that vibrates through your entire being.

“What was that, sweetheart?” Charlie asks, engulfing one of your breasts in his huge hand. The added sensation is perfect, but not quite enough. You wonder if you can coax more.

“I knew you would feel good.” You reach down to the base of his cock, encircling it as much as possible with it’s girth, and fisting upward just as he pulls you up, therefore maximizing the squeeze on his length. Charlie inhales abruptly and drops you back down.

“Little Miss Know-it-all, are you?” His voice is harsh and it sends a thrill throughout your body. Before you can respond, you’re pushed and yanked around, losing your grip with the motion.

“What - ?” Charlie’s hand on your throat quiets you. Not because he’s truly squeezing, but because the solid warmth of his hand causes you to squeak your way to silence. His adjustments now find you pulled up to the edge of the bed, legs spread and pushed back, with Charlie standing between them. Bent over, he grounds himself with one hand on your throat and one on your hip, positioning his tip back at the entrance to your weeping cunt. You expect him to slam his hips forward, to impale you with his cock, but he pauses with the swollen head just inside your folds.

“This okay?”

This power and control, the way he is manipulating your body for your pleasure and his own – he loves it. It’s so new and yet something he now wonders how he ever did without. But he also feels the need to check in and make sure that you’re still with him. The nod you give, the sparkle in your eye, and the quirk of your lips is all it takes to convince him and then he is plowing forward, slamming himself back in again and again. You let out a full throated moan and Charlie revels in the way your eyes roll all the way back.

He wonders what else will make you do that. What else will make your eyes roll back and your toes curl and your teeth sink into your bottom lip? He wonders, as his hand presses softly into the contours of your throat, what it would feel like to squeeze a little harder, and if the pressure would make you even more desperate for him. He wonders if you like a little pain with your pleasure, as he has long suspected he might enjoy, though has never truly had the chance to confirm.

But there will be time for that.

So now, he does his best to focus in on the sounds you release. Sounds of delight and surprise and sensual thrill. He coaxes you to your second climax and you don’t fight it. You don’t demure or wait for him or hesitate. Instead you unapologetically allow yourself to get lost in the pleasure he’s built for you, seizing and quaking beneath him without shame.

The sight and feeling are so beautiful he can’t help but follow soon after, pulling out and allowing releasing all over the bra and panties you had so generously left on for him. The sight of his seed landing on the delicate lace, as you lay beneath him fucked out and smiling, causes another tremor to rock through him, and he finds that he’s still cumming long after he usually would have finished.

Charlie finds himself in a daze in the immediate aftermath of his release. He looks around for something to clean you with, and when you notice you point out a box of tissues on the desk. After he’s done his best to wipe you up, you give him a kiss on the cheek. The mundane intimacy of the act makes him blush all the way to the hidden tips of his ears. It is absurd because you had just had sex, however the press of your lips to his skin seemed to seal the deal. This was not transactional. It was something more, Charlie can’t help but think to himself as you get up from the bed and skip to the bathroom.

In your absence Charlie again registers the smallness of your room. How large – out of place, maybe – he is amongst your delicate things. He pulls on his underwear and sits back down on the mattress, unsure.

Unsure about your expectations. Unsure about whether or not you’d want him to leave. Or stay.

Before he can make a decision in either direction you are bounding back into the room, a smile on your face. Your face is freshly washed and you’re in a faded, oversized tank top, having divested yourself of your abused lingerie. Charlie swallows at the sight of your breasts, free and outlined beneath the soft fabric. He adjusts his hands in his lap. No need to let you see him getting worked up again so soon like some horny teenager. You don’t seem to notice, instead slipping easily into bed beside him, shimmying under the covers and patting the space beside you so that he does the same.

So stay he will.

Once you’re both comfortable and situated, you slide into his arms, drawing them around your body without a question or seemingly a second though. Much like the way you’d slid into his life, Charlie thinks ruefully, nuzzling his face into the top of your head as you tuck in beneath his chin.

“Charlie?”

“Hm?”

“I know you always go to that diner on 15th for breakfast,” you begin, and Charlie’s heart spasms. Both at the thought of breakfast with you and the fact that you so casually know details about him. About his likes and his habits. He pulls you in a little tighter and nods his head.

“Yeah?”

“Would you mind if I show you a new place in the morning? I think you’ll really like it.”

And Charlie laughs. Because of course you’d want to push him out of his comfort zone. It’s what you do – push him to try new things. Push him to do things he wouldn’t usually consider. Push him to be the man he’d been working so hard for the past year to be.

“Yes, but I’m not changing the way I order my eggs,” he grumbles with humor, kissing the crown of your head. “Not yet.”

~*~

The next morning you order first, and you’ve never had breakfast with Charlie before, so when he asks for the same dish, you can’t possibly know that this is his first time ordering eggs Florentine.

As you both laugh and eat and sip coffee in the outdoor seating area of the quaint café you’d picked, fingers intertwined between you on the wrought iron table, you also can’t know that this is the happiest Charlie has felt in ages.

But he makes it his mission, right there and then, to do everything in his power to make you feel the same.

~*~

Tagging some lovely friends (please let me know if you would like to be tagged or untagged in the future!): @celestiasin @tlcwrites @noocturnalchild @thedivinemissn @insufferablelust @edencherries @historyandfandoms50 @lostinthedrive @thewilddingleberries @mariesackler @safarigirlsp @direnightshade @sacklerscumrag @clydesfavoritegirl @wayward-rose @hopeamarsu @barbers-glimmerin-darlin @finn-ray-nal-beads @fizzywoohoo @maybe-your-left @aliveandlonely @han-not-solo @mrs-zimmerman @maryforyou @jynzandtonic @renmaulxo @millenialcatlady @soggywhore @transparentmeoo @leia-suns @alpha-lobito

#paper-n-ashes #charlie barber x reader #charlie barber x you #Charlie Barber/reader #Charlie Barber/you #Charlie Barber fanfiction #Charlie Barber smut #marriage story fanfiction #Marriage Story smut #writing #smut #Roanniom #tw: unprotected sex #tw: choking

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