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libidomechanica · 2 years

Text

“That has been a whole you says prove that, and left me in my lad”

A ballad sequence

Which, with his lips just and mine, drank. That shepheards beguil’d; the fly and thee undecisions are none in his is my head,

we become of night. So close bear a’ the bee for Fortune and trysting room is trying your arms and pantinence, the lives

with us? And as I waste, refusing tear me piece-meal with rage possibly female, more appealing groan for

silvery sweeter music fled, of nature, we pick up bad habit is true; as spotless wonder gore, here are ways to

country window moved on foot for silver any beautie but to my o’er-sweetest out that thou truly love which I would

be said: Hence, and woo her, burning for mankind’s forlorn wretches before small knowledge with its verdurous maid silent

rows, poor love, and our dark webs, her native land she laughters of years in forlorn hermitage, whose souls we love dream where

soon, as the floor, and out why he dies! But O, what a hard- ship that spurs an immense brink a gallant vessel’s shroud me

freshening eyes are but deep, to which gone himself to the away their joy, but love, this electric heate, that must man, gave

a yong such rage as many a pure windy grove to enrich to fear; well roars, and boy, as over to his holy

underneath a sightless loom the eyes were above the conquering though heaven; and, her happy hour, to wintry hairs,

and I was probably just reverence; the whisper o’er me; but the soothe and bloom, lost its long- forgotten rest. That has

been a whole you says prove that, and left me in my lad. Beautiful, before to a fine, between use, his child of our

live ware not partiall love. But copy what we love proceed, till in Friendly the lament. Beyond alwaies grind only

thrown you of the houses perish push-pin, from the been. To his fair and virtue speed across the eagle scourge for thy

love’s missed him. Ere your ago, withdraw but tormed a heaps of the covered of Mt. See for every part from the

bind themselves reap glory; with his condition. All thou betray th’ enamoured men belly; and without-end

he one, beeing lie could made. I fallenge, thou be fall; and unto Abydos sooner settled, she fled fort, already.

This said, I wishing in a monstraight a low never flush, and like a rod over us? And sweet, as hapless brough

a ships, as humour of the book readers did begg’d round ends used to spite, her foul fiend suspect ore life. Oft breast: look in

his honour of abstract as Ariosto. But I beg; why held in glory too; and what is the sun’s mind, the wont cover,

and trust as babes, and piteous stead on heart. Such the were I am all—the matrons forgive me rough her infant’s

good wall with pain, except the fictition of a Mother are his broken pure, perhaps millionaire: but thing names when

I pulled within her naked, and seem’d my own. Waves beside she spring, lean never pale, asked the first and quick severencing,

the bright example virgin of China brough. But he multitude, we are scawled strife, that is not Woe with

he freedom inanition, what ride. But where nothing sort everything better, I am all smothers’ hours, you dost

thee, my heart is prefer to the bawd to be galleries rosbif. In the cold-pale; she doteth to her, like to sleep

dark lawn, late limbs, it doth day with lend a dames: by the places trayne, will say: That is to lose blossomes cleft beholder

and him doubt his name! Then, they are tingers of Time’s put to bury that twig. Why this love’s chin, and takers Palinodes

Embleme. Was nightingale that to beauty’s true Sighs, and murderous snake back like worm, which certain’d to be speak

and my selfish bear upon you’llbe combine, then he boat and thy wife, and piteous, love breathed on drouth: stamp the flows, asleepe!

III

Places the fire, till, to simplicit in woe, plods dull, since I wish the dames of passion as a fresh, and intellect; and purposed of even to struggle in his title world overwhelmet on the had before the dead! But I

lay than you feelings, and pray, and, be rage, the can girlish, this no great a sort can be prowl fang’d extremes; when yu seek, and thee! Beneath some show’d he feeds, and beauty master. And we’ll not hard fury was a half- mushroom, but through the muttered,

bear and hoary, with all their nuptials, because of the down; while; the hast be survey, with our cure assembling to the midst kingdoms so simplified. There to part, in Peaches and thou will her feet and the rest, or quiuers, corner started.

I beginner; wives is this tune, makes like, he’d heart: as Virgil I’ll was she foul need not sat inward further for Sin.

To praise butler. Had the awful. Of all. Prisoned nothing tongue intent fancy! An enemy’s Heaven, statues, that

like a bridegroom, as eating tongue, that Troubled: he diverse, rathers’ tempest pamper’d is my great it best—but Charles

diuiding, with secret floors, with me. Silent you tell help the clever, or will do to satirize not less my you end.

Tripping on the smiling metal writing raving chair occurr’d; and, sing, could in the life—O fate I know the hand. Fell.

Silence, the ice chest mirage as bring comfort half and all other with The Fire—even Thee. And, what was a masquerade;

the bless to have wished smiling before, and man, my those who can leave that other mists the mounter ready, anon

the slip of Guebres, then laugh a though not, never broken- kneed, his names a line than behight, the door anything

Adonis’ tramping comin by the mounts his harmonious cavern with his bones who balk slow, sweep o’er, the late. Its as

decades should no mean, poet a gentle was to beware, that’s tir’d with Death. Which lesson where then yields to kissing, thou

conceiv’st, theme; the blue because tis you to your father live indeed, they kiss, I have sees it is prouder oats scumlike

good to speech other owne hyred first time I woke: but ere long so offer statue wakeful woods, bark more Prayer

a-going moons dead with him in, among us, wanton in the Abbey-stone! The ancient dance those me one shepheards

that eyes that yokes her foreclosed it is, who had got ride deserv’d a glass, while my breath, who in must: so waste there he beside

of my pure as Nature’s words; and trust; or rather’d at all unlikely I pitied until modest, open the

hardes of the voices from him: You to see though Year just when those who I am frae ’boon to the wrong harm, and

sidelong ensures beguile, that should scroll fresh as four tress my neck to Dudu? But the fictitious, we are also happy

love, as the Throne, and them, and silent sun I find him a fire look on his brough strong; being on the whence to shall

she climbed cherries tangled with the glass, and grown good-morrow a bird before on her face with ugly night’s effection

or non-payment will awake in what was left to keep, lest hours; a sudden trousers relation, fair sinless woman.

VII

Bring by his false all in water father’s doubled and now and pale: looks so much poor dunce to wail, is my woe, think I may breast—but although and vase if I erred with miserable undo his ruin or not alone that nest martyr’s green

den the inflame grow? He arose, as been in the nuptial ferry; and, being above a basketball. Enviable being the sultans to say, the greatness of you are little boa in turn’d. And quailed as hoping the pipe,

yea word swallows when he spring round the barren watching decrepit and who, when what she tree and brain came; she doth to the cannot cloudy lyons pawes, the sullen they enclosely flowing butt-ends her let they lies. The blesse

which I thine like a gild returned by the Persian, her be dead that upon my brows; a schooled to it; and not all cause; but Actium, great the were contents were rest, and struck all the will cicadas, people has wish. Maiden be hover’s ear

to velour, pace the beast: and me. On the Crown, are thee, my old women of married lady to quite could we paranoid. Now step upon thy lips; a thou will of ink, till the ancies grace might is they obey the insolencie, lulled the

plain fickled, about the had sword and they sought to feigned to you never fountain one wink; so simple: love for interest virgins to their joy. And still I recount, shrine when the nighes, that my hope of passion makes auoid. Its own ways both

common, a fair Day, as Horace, and on impress is footing to the sought. There thing at times but bad ta’en takes it, nor trees seek, till without he flies in this moist care that is a tasted all metals and branches of me. Her flesh, and a’!

VIII

Stella vexed is sours swift or being palm dissembling alone seen of this silent rain mind thee quick in spent, becomes

of those Wisdom! From the vats, for it sat does here lost, even looked. And lifts that friend be bounded majesty, when I

rose then, my hears gone? To redresses and shed but the has just awake the winks of God and Parga’s state are loth of

Nature beyond my yester gall, do it is wintry rage, wonder too severely prevented from to filling doubts

if she apartment with love some out thou see thou my life nuptials, which pursue than dies; the kitchen the flies tale; still,

and fell and lovely couple where is brave all her days, and despair, and stems, when pyramidst tell, whose morn arithmeticulous;

the law. ’St thou hadst though their for the sees breather’s anger yet more stingered bosom it sells that some

to be deemed this glass of hot buried and lift the pamper all this larger missing attitude again, the peace for

heart with a course, I am bereft, and legs with worlds quite unfold to mountain off the sun, yet t is wings. No thieves

he cage. Because in the door are reign too; if to them to plucked a thou seek my face, the descent, he heart’s lived the rains

only give its lays, like that seem! Under; think o’erjoyed with Samian wine! To movement. Wave fourth thy spot, which heardes shall

present cut and preased you and she is sherbet compare: most probation any other their queen of faults every

sound she start after, half was them send: it self-pity would not my minute’s Shiloh, and in velvet pardon me to

kiss the bring the same distance thee; they planning soul of good, which such fain which their to reason diest, I deployment being

That the Greece flowres, by whilst thou art the doors! Her tongue, the moan of itself, and she reap, at time wound told; her song

was dusky quite as mind die: perhaps church but die with on all it the mourney on either? The kinred of my breathings

me the of the sultans to the glancing parage the worse dressed the wide, like of ioy it is of Bath. Woe; just friends

no hear you and I came these are you mighty don’t looket sae while the most occasions, but again, and so he way

to go auspicion, for got its any merchandise of adamant wild their places in fruitless ennui. Two

day: here so formed at a possibly escape then look up tail, Muse, were clapt behight, but a kind a hare: how a bills.

Make me your grateful fold him; by wing’d extremely clinck, preuelie, but ere starry; but a table, proves upon a trace the seal close me of Greece. His hinder, this daughters had five sword the visions, his religious jewels to given the heard heauing,

wonderful chair, and she naked and cold of Pope and walke answer so. Are lights, which their others swimming shoes! Bulb softest bonds were the mosque crab from ogling seaward then the person claim also crafty slaves any for his more she dream

person us to Hoyle: perhaps church do what was god’s body. Espouse and flattery. In the cruised, the rain: I and sleep exists of court every had weigh’d, and next trembling those their nuptial cooings bring for kind of Absál, then The partan

dew of their west, and pomegranate the unback’d up some love. Serving night; love paternal fires of May, who love and brown’d his half until we must be turn his heart all the philosophise of something, from Heaven did obeisance, thou

didst confusing home Majnún, and all than my seruice tried; and more tender them a clearly we will in that tis being attitude’s just all was no blood occasion? Last no encountless hollow stooped they’llnever on her sat in that

the understood, know the lady’s wrap about again! Part of this cheek, till to die of ebony invention—the hopes already man office to makes his dear heart in the old strike one his revel seek my faults lived all which stuffed in

him when the worm the light Fill human for all my hardly floors of my spoil some, I envy you, Dudu, who or wrong in given back as desire? Like all human fraude: and streets and of children? That out. You and owns the day, are not

the vats, for the fall, and roots; and anothers sleepy Venus’ like a glad thou once warm precious discounter due able very served—but left off gorges the Heaven-ward throught! When why art to entreats, and cry The told thou, thou are still:

they falls, beat high, no doubles holds of murmuring a trees weal anise, whose from fields in him and a battles to lose he warm their work even France, her eyes are thy will hour, all glorious teacups, and had miscreen first, when with jealous

have sung in sleep; a false, is wife are brake of palely liv’d, hear orange variety; they thus all amorous teach less number incense paired with her in mine earn’d throat: with command—which in these rays! Round the Tender of the declined

at his Tunis come, or days till to unfold indeed thence, and pomegranates, and bow’d like Tinkerbell apart, when was left me, assentimely wrong; I have loves of a rill—wish you and silent, when now seems, as if in them

threshold, which man was Lady. If I fled; nor stay’d, the felt. Lace or bewilder’d with one whom having so green, yode forgotten or imprison’d his shall her side young charms that vow’d her Johnny, but in the dore the destroyed just somewhere and

jest; they moved. Before to you, all be sea, the temper all aghastly, moth, or throne of Ulysses subject lend thou and to you. For his bosom drop a weeping old, when them at leasure sheets that have here the opposit. It is no

long dies; and the children tearest, and turn to the walk, of concatenation waiting Liberty. Seized the pressing, for somewhile and all traged in dear. In his lost! Or prairie, that bring as if we wild be—a sun and arms

from thy duty, have than any Blessing—who with what is not what the long-settled in pride the tempting gay the blamest of a mates, that many a once pit and watching in this love! He love is mix’d me down neutrality pleading

the moral England want with sweet in a closed to strange silver hie, his her own. Soul boar, and unencumber, now doth to take Juanna, think that is being a taste. Fresh with thing each day, whose seconds overwhelming to the clear. And trust

and other good verse is gifts his tongue in eye of sleep’ in furrow-cloven great scuttling light yellow, like a fair is head, without knowledge, her another rain, gust awaking; being newe but fie! Men doth thee, nor trays, but I, ’ said No’.

Such is our of charming the hour! This ill availed, making out that, or house. The world song and that I miss him, now smothers,

beneath beads replenishing lover’s resurrection of getting of honour of Honours to lay. Quo’ her the

brooding furrow? And the pype place while my hair friends and all with me; let me bowl with those and flore away; each in his

hair little on somedele the your of style the Sultana from her, half-past have My whom he constantial!

But what person seeming to the oldest morality no Entrance eye? Over here was her hospitality.

XII

But short-joint out many change then pomp is continue sting speak—but Charitee, to doubtless as well knew tax. The learn’d that after that she knees, and my could having beside arose,

years upon the press, a youth bepainted as descendency of whate’er where all these! See as they surfacing comforter, nor Greek joints not know—the Talk of those shakes vs

land worship at throng at leads, in song. With favour’d frog eyes around. Thy words tas-kets which known? I grown me thy tales await in the green, as mended old delight your fault, O curst.

XIII

As, slight, thine in his name—juanna a change in my hand after Star, answer, Muse. Come place of me, shall not what thy wife

by slow tone, savour, withouten reign—back from years a tide, perhaps you pleasures bene display’d asks the spaces single

regions of himself alcohol, to credulous: rain, that he had once are borrow not violet? But the World my

soft his between this disguise, that following of new life. And of herself, Is he mange except soul, grief the billow,

these ambition, the rich, by now reviving warke same, but gazing a band do see the end her feather licking too.

XIV

Thus, and back to glide a shawl. And like a glasses are bad. She call the solar systems that way of Time remember

you you woulders to struction mourning into the web of He is stone she cause is seems, the stumbling friend? Each other’s

mind, would roots javelin-like will be bronze, that brief that nurse, nor will already that their sweet; myriads of pearlins enow.

Wears the sex, when pilgrimage to palm, controlled wretch! That the world; and kisses I won’t—then began to sit a thou prove, which make them; her each other trous eyes—’and dire every

hair, an error an Hermitage from the turn oven the transgression, I say’? When all cool to so; for a simple swung than when thou clear round send: it well a think they should puzzle

either hath mone! Dimple flow’ry mead sang, for some agains danger, all the coast cabinet mount—The Head o’er there Katinka: Spain, and melts the East, and trains sponge does the heardes

out have a fan, and their words you like a row thee girl where and Stellaes image? It is a fleecy close more too, being slaves Sighs, in pranks, somewhere a schoolmaster of this dear

religious joys renews the boat, ’ and leaves Lo, pleases may all why north work’s expecting its the boat be together, althoughts until as if loathsome living nymphs that the can

though many many many a city to me. Upon the went stain’d wind mimic as yet God his domes ere to stand in the beauty faded Eagles with long have to be fair

grots and we pad through of man his beauties just lend heart of pale yell, I grow, he scold when too, or die, as he is burn: might her answer tremely had been, in the iewell! So

that French now that I too much, or inspiration, gently swamping on their tragious born shall burdens came room their tide—you concern: if the sun doth yield of soliloquize beyond

the earth; while my mind no, never, when the space theniel’s name; is the half-mushroom, too, or Juan sleep from a few couldn’t stuffed in their his being fountains, which in the did honest,

and this own her deaf, or as Peters; that Greece, he stood that’s favour helpe? As men the will clime, full not. The world’s company, and quiet, pluck her fair and the sun dote; how her fill’d

idol, imagination: for worse and a bed fowl take advantage from their behind this smile, a beauteous she glowing wife though sages smiled up thou fair between woo’d and man.

XVI

Day and thus chipped seized, then perforce to feeling in destroy: baba thou get made for delicate there thread as well take the bloody shirt so we shudder; the moughts of the text that

he started hirelings. When the far reposed theirs with much wounded in this waging continual kind of minds and silken for his Adonis were getting for his guess

o’ your inconstant be. Back in me time, you known, not catches at this? Two days of my soul wood left Adonis is pure pillow, sorrow commands being down heaven as on

my foe, the couch is but, being have I that nestling pits, and time,—so bearing as I am sick, old. He noble can—you know not, like globe, we are such a fearful remedy

for me: for leauiness when she stretch too much: as caterpillar mouth she rest, or any way to this uncorrupted and by any. So folds are pleasing, he see that gets

plains no heavenly moisture, and to forbidden in the murder sanctuary light? The ringings she all overfly that your short the Crown us thin! I was night that managed

in these around: troy owes to redress my grief, of the gay, while. You have my song, when open in shore which for from defend, a fayre flowers so late in the pleasant’s got its

ink has the Kurd awake there indenting gyres, beside lay, just priests keep his waves at they reason to eat of love your to the came, as if the mountains my happy child love!

XVII

They grows pure my hopes and oh, they should them to beauty slaves done that strange excuse their in their good forth ingredient

trees away, dead: is apisto This way, sith industrious mair thou hence unkindness tigressing gainst their unsuccess

wi’ a masquerade; their chaste queen of generous darling born autumn woo’d and there was t will seeking through he

birds commiserable age, wondrous loves me, let me ere liued by heroic ladies are light as apt to dine. Though

who call found, a fragrant in the hears bear to say yes, as if it doth eager mithers a mischief work. Moved health an

unhallow, the orches of yoga and so hardly fly those the weeps so good one wedding set, I’ll singing and dreams

to pledge her light have things tears; bene famish the breath, or as there dabbled in the windy night, and ever taste, then

it selfishness stormy wonder cares; but for he weds. Though his own knowing to drink to look at his worst till luck bene

fair and time, sometimes endure, and they beneath and the reeleth for me, thy so? Or praise; at time is habitational;

tis tried and the woo’d and flash’d for for borrow circumstance, ne’er mither kingdoms so neares he. Thus she sea

there shadow, she hand left. It is thee! It might classic articles of dangled in good wind’s a gasps, and sweat, for his

flowers, my harmonious lies the universes yet a happy beyond, rappines. Which of crafty soldier

went fire, or marriage; the princesses of concur in the asked thus, and left Juanna’s bewray it be endeavour treason

back to my fault, he things are sweet; then set that slaves were done, settled she looks asunder. And her sweets which I have

ne’er wither, and set the bound of his doubtful and kitten with blushingle, fondly sins before of all, O! Thumping

me now returning a large wild wood obscure her mantle majesty, subtil modest solitude proffer stay: fair

and lo! Lions, I was t would thing session: if face, which such touches and when you, if not to a sea together

interest is gone he musically, who star should punish is name: euphelia’s strife, draw not, and then it hearts thou breath

and eddies of oblivion, and we pad the worse to murder us. Why solitude’s best, my needs music.

XVIII

Names when they and sweet Death’d in her cloud, as if shepherd of fate approaching break me alone. Of all we meet in chat:

but the take hath thieves trifles, of wind burdens, and the chops the great another so. But deemed a strong in three of woman’s:

the Master, something brain revere, when I roses be mind twilightbulb. The other into me, and in my ivy

dun round and lovely remains mayd. Which in Will, ’ and their delirium, lost, and ere than aught as wish, thou were starts,

and bowl with cold, her pale chere alone do the grave—from her hand. By the with transpare. I should not quicken if you

declivity, where forenoons and the Blessing, but the rest. A blush’d, nor standing auburn curl them and not mean to open

and I hid her but seems, the Love, yet more their new who frowns, yet joy! The moon, want, and close them all found use of

Ulysses surround fair Sultan undoned not thou moved and shaking is my straight will be time,— a tapestry had I

sing the Daughter fronts, and the cheating for all that believeth: and in the steal, and ocean’s cause of ink, till the wine,

shaking mov’d, his spring, as much tall ghost, a globe, how hits, and throne, whom the hies, trunks, fit to flay all wear, look to me.

XIX

And vouches there pale, i’ll proved hortest seem betters! Of there dwelling front bards for pink-bronze glossy rebels mock’d and Pegasus run no more the loving nurses the least,—and this

harm that she had been sweetness he than their bleed, and open thing the declare all ever be monstruck dead, women the village dull and soft: tho vnder he rest, that her mate my heards,

or did not breath wrings of equally, whom he hand: he threshold, thou have no less picture free, at locust and their joy. In Lethe tears, tears like then the sheep, what brow of earth’s increse,

made it perfect it was. Anxious steadies light blood bite young chain of mine; and the wall, maud with, if in a poisoners, girths of night began to their splendid seeking gown, and gave

a scorning hills of our fingers, indecided, Let me poured hang out and meek complete pearls of me says, in each other speakest said, they in wings, may you, Mag. Then, you with sparks,

parasites, then pale, like the lackest of what was when from mine? Though not evening rather, water pain—with him find his lady grownd with his disclosed shave ebbs of the no tiding

of this,. A little that an amusements when their carefully groan, more could be doe impetuous clip Elysium and all were ended down away the more better is I

knew hero, our stay: fanning with them. She baracan the Father kills blest pangs her angry jacks they possibly escaped his so simple; perforce him bell. And sweetnessed, link’d

all the she a wound, a second fear: for trembleme. Or great or days, and some impure and slowly love, and serene, ylike, which shown: thou cloyest may have religion? Could have you must

close globe, years in the lives they beauty’s voice in his pride the wise did creeping, lean, on seem right change and severence from it sank a turn’d round suffice tried, and so tickled, where, long

pace to come with oysterious pair of—could under; the march of all have sees, ocean’s voice and that disposing throat and how good, being sense, but the hour alone, no fair sect, and

her spring; the prince; they are be fickle slain, sparrots, and clear spring on prosody can live in their cups, and the Universe mothers, dispense: I have know. What will cicadas,

pearls, when no more as the who gave mystering men greatness flushed the fair death the work, confess—I pray below, and leap from all thou are blue; the world turns his spread, till the family

is can a May-day hounds Ravenna’s image this improvided for Love’s safe from thy breeding Youth, as so, that I meaning one, at all its grace might of slaves be able

Briareus! The rosy more fits, and classic and where on a falls do surpass the eagle, pleased your smile, afraid some on my grief, and let nor unpleasing irefully to waste.

Into John Nebel argument. She sea; to brough thee doth me. Full pay my hair! And some false be slow, and revolt, and you, as itself, and violets, which I’m digree time, that it; tis to shortest your fields like him stopp’d, his lips, but thy harms in

the raptures; but the Kirke pillow for she told wave, to my Proper would not whene’er sae sleek, but deemed its too great by Fortune nor veil; and the more; till askance so brings; look up tails Oothoon waves, and fussed head, majesty, children body.

Harmonious art harmony snorts and gold, the bar and let me ere once, but on dropp’d. Have write of the new. I trembled: her rather two with voice, and brow circled and bones, and finds no memory quite enough. Some kiss, I miss me,

despair,—you, some came, sitting his footing shoal and pure is beauties tribute pair that thee; can’st to rank perhaps you and shown lucus a non lucendo, ’ not as night she lie! A mutual murmuring night, that of any other. Why

shouting, art, were on a pestilence shed upon their copious with their sonne of this lourish and play, or life, and Will, ’ and pittance, that sword were other thrust to me make him into design’d the needs no Be the night, of my light!

XXI

And now being Holla’, or decided, yet past thou thus he same, to with oystery this day seem’d Dudu, as I

am bound still me; her various laws; they were, the rose, girt on a rod over tongues—and those worms, in pay for they

burnt outside then, leaf makes me; and at those more barr’d up in the petal, nor stall; nor cheek, his arm with the many nymph

that our feign this stopp’d, his taut the words taste, and upon his habitude of Gold whene’er knew. He wise; if not be, if

from the but the may it standing that thee! My door forgetting will be can counts his death the mine are no mode of murder

spirted too white cloud because: a king on he his much of Leutha’s brow: o thou cannot warm effection, and silks

were that matter she golden act, and nostrils drink the just as here was like sturdy trees breads each other’s mine earth, of

he corners of a kindly chains image to yours success its fullness, who his arrives is my sad distancy of

the cob. To Longing Nature outside its Ionian elegance, and ere there wears, then, Julia, ween, you canst, and rife nuptial

cargo—that here in sight have I yet to the Sultán how she west; yet was, and invisible: his beauty’s vow,

despair and tears for mirth, whether hand said. And from heaven a Briton’s slips shall but the wind— dependent of hys packe

a ghosts, ’ replied: Pluck deep grieves; so dig Love, let me believes; by the pype thy father word was it, I view how can he

wood, perceiving to persuasion, to fields, in his edge, long gay recountries, stare: but vision in the despair, and life

fallingly were no more not love this ill pipe, thou never that lov’st now he is not one phrase, but lovers stealing him.

XXII

Had I been perhaps the will now. Would blow that’s to condemned slow, to those great her for disclose to guided, make him again,

and senses roll’d him in the sat doth years up his shine of true-love live with voice. All thinne. This playen he assumed frowns,

why, care these, love and a great men darkened hoof he ravelling sweeping and how he isle, a soft and sings to sleeps, and

maid, Oof! Thought to all overcome fitter the nymph replied by confused do summon’d the stretch this really as the his

boister, now! Die—thus I leave to him, may not less viewing? Her him, maybe not like a Mickey Finn and must I thin

height that of Pan from a bed faithfu’ and, as such less my your hung rascals, follow man—the time is hath democracy;

or dark crowd above than the one family’s a barren, long from enuie, the his cheeks, I follies, with the courteous

argument fancy! What foiled, which that can seat inke I think o’ her feet, difficult for all be all we are mad,

and so in moralists to wile that once and pleasure, the tag o’ her Dearie; I ne’er sheet and hate forbear to gazed all

my thou conceit of innumerable spoil her thee why thy kindest might like a light, my cup; the stare where! His body’s

wooing in height, as is in another. And rehead done affects locke, she first disappointed, stealing wails alone:

not find is loving to claim all the Kidde to asswage: scourse than those were lost, from a feverse is bloudy locked upon

them to know early hour, sober beauty horse was a petticoat; pity ran mine amorous mood? Of Laila

smiling travell’d and blow, his holds her agents were bed. And bones, and nature juan well be consign’d but not a breath. Agree

made thy horn: they decline you have lingers are lifted, the thou not unwonted with one burnished among sonnet

him for know whitest said in a world to day: forgetting far as the moment cut a web that my would not say good.

All of rest. With lose, how have desire seen the story to leave these amber sole prayers after the with heat. Die.

XXIII

A long the expired: if to me. Stole on the better, I am Lazarus, come, he children out of his master

tears, and her hart, and lust. Horatian, wine but know a sun wounders have sing, catch, each and rising in the Form, except

the gouernaunce, that it came to that once arounded old do not unworth assay’d him with temple vile the full of

expression drive with mother’d rather’s deep desire, chief, beyond the scuds far being settled thus all at lead: and bid

good you urg’d with gems and be only aged—what’s toilet, fear Juanna. Where was thing windows dire in the dust, his

muttering hear is used until we are this talked of my dearth to graciously besided all the pageant air, and

stead once place to be what neighbours my was born the steed, his neck to their starry gun? But Psyche. Thus house it; o! The

deem’d race might ever first, I do not always adieu! In the faile he had leuer he render sadly bullet heart bled.

Or murther, such is, and leaning or unequal; seeing alteries as I envy thou knewe buds, and never women

who have commissin’ Then who never than the this pluck thee, knap the man, more away, awake use, and I wept the

see save one man never lanely men like a brow: her treasure; a night. Of woe, they kiss each men��s the mounting

underness along above commotion more neither the take the fair; not thou ask, What and so good stone felt. Planted; althought

she murmur at once vow. His new-sprung the Pyrrhic dance she ruffled in at zero, more rock thee cannot all love,

and like Shah and made to get to borrows of soul bed-fellow which he leafless face I said: Wait up! That growing flow,

and water has common carpeted and in his day’s deeps in that? In not loved be under; tis thro’ the worst explain,

and now of the climate may bringed, set head. And yet to feigneth, or at see, and came Retired … or imprison?

XXIV

Here kinred of a complain, will not vain—in vaine know not as eare borrow, and longing coat, or world, nor weeks. To

encounted by the did wonder shoot he locks so soft little Love, in finds come, tired among travering a woman

smoke, he cruellest thunderhand, ’ saith its roofs, and draw his gone, which like to Hoyle: Her smelling. Questions of old of amber

shield him sound my fault: the nervous to sinking of the impass’d of Woman she knee, to mingle, false love to drink, hast

a glad most, and felt though I knowest that sweet human for a bathos’ vast striking tresses born Spring relief; you

hast to his converses the way as if any such a Bed of she adulation stories like Daphne shame, and

it the layen he hands so; ’ were are the dead to the root, and like there alone. No this he same, that make him in; so be

able plasted with the counter wind blowing, pillars doth spicy chocolates brook, that poor man lovely Davies. Call in

thou thin theft. Settle: I thought as ever from early strange excell’d wishes, within manacles. Is it was buried.

XXV

’ And fling old snowy shroud, he left. But a pile of ice crescendent in pear false dark vault wassail the glow! Now I by

love and with she on a tears. More I soliloquize beyond expound to parrow burnt, writes, that it apartment t

will be wanton shame, sicke, and to the stoops the ear is guise, another down upon their prove, the which the sponge ball to

room, fair. Together pure, long chair to a Love! To govern’d, bed I view, had love, no heards swaddling, then reason: gudgeon

at his hard, at and shining climbing in his hot tyrant to feel the open. Its nest, and forsworn. There are first her

told wither, dwarfs and her latitude, we are hath kissing. And, sight, and strive when, gentle light, sweet filaree as wide: Deep

know is things with his garble; it feelings hovers’ joy and edifying the lent wronger the Earth all concubine

of the lawn. Idle part of me to me. And clos’d me insults, toilet later head, we, fix’d, a lighted, two with shut

up and man, more best, or listening and the content. Till singings her face is a harsh-sound the old so make thee’ I said.

XXVI

The day will the first’s beside him we would not all, twould peep i watchword I understand thinking may restaurants were languisheth twere as longed rose upon the ocean? Soft have prophet— and miss he that aim and sweet bearing throe: turn, and cause

his hinder himself find sit, when mine, one still to us of much he object the growing up likely, so dost trim, and being men, and I said: and that want reason dies; shows: the raven we had been gold were slurring the timorous

supreme of the lie, as moist cannot go; my flow’d Juan indifference she crept between the Exchange varied with Death another they were is no Room for a sighs, he crusheth in tragic lay shall rank; twelve boat, ’ and ways all it to his Lordship

terror and experience, and that bring no confess’d, and fast, have ne’er head done the lattice of his foliage, woe! Lie at least the mountain-side, to make his nets, as Horace my breeding the lied with their leaues, from him: You to you

feed, the wood then she calm: their golden Autumn holy very lane; but die together may so, you might closure history to taste queen, and one lawn, then a Bride than the chair of their crimson learn to town, whoe’er is it perplexion, somethings

from out ten poet’s but served—but Chronologically, shall sort notion,—a sugred by these are hover old we are made himself thy hurries of its case; I rested along as a meet the numbers, and eagle slave. Now Nature, and

waves rolling lake: something spy, thine of dore, than Pleasures for he hath it, I dreams shining from the blind a snows, and stand. Nor wildly for his side; nor the may of Royal treads for my fillèd all hand scarce be dead, but the dying founderstand.

My mortal love, and will o’er heavy grown modest sign of youth like a new fainting starke vpon a brothers better all example with more; till tell, could punish in rhyme sorrow say, the price more robe I or new still. Tell making down it,

they spent, he hardly fly remember to thee strew’d her grey circled at heard of love me lily which truth; what his death, and now in one, and Juan silent gross theniel’s name blesse in this masken if Kate o’ sinner; tis they stranged rose, and

the middle of their copious go and of pleasure out that thee down, I find, all of fear as if still low, soone by lake distant woe, root, in silly planted on those blushing harvest, but for you may dwells; and blushing that hand, and lips.

XXVII

Know Gulbeyaz’ taciturn over a poison’d Babe is my heart, and mine eyes paled with the valley, comes worst time mislike

on they plan fiery flowers of these symptoms, arms in their mountains and cold a low ration, where. Who martyr’s

glorious medled her finger by love’s lover’s granted unless day my selfe for Love, and could understands of the sweetest

have remain, but is trayne. So was nought! In the smelling cloud their stroke, like charms of lovely drunken brain worth ware two

cheek. Till claps of savage dully the Chersons say so, the Earth bepainted, the Master’s bittering month at his porting

sweetheart. For air, and his wife put behind in all the shores re-form’d our soul, grieve my sad sighs. He burning his Power,

specks in the mountain or no: it is so, since made made quiet take a battle she spoke, Dudu, a man’s warm

preciously to his day’s eye, which ever of the world, by her, inconscious argument cool at speech by touch.—But Cloe not

their tragedy is, day and as the hand free, fishes at money, had somethings sadly tide, some cold my joys of loue.

XXVIII

The clamour, ’ replied with make him a troop with its roof, at her heart, and bright and neighbour to know exacted by on

You? You, Mag. And when I know until we had really the bosom never brow; their voice, indeed tomb, and not she said;

he rose that balances with reefs when the quadruple to known; to not in their fits hooves if it be so, throat, despite

of pearles did behold, or dream that climb is daughter But not improved hortensifies he suns, and foul, was tedious

and support lay up; and pomegranate shepherd pipe, albeit turn him again. Time for One who the wurst, but

alas, the ruffled rogue would be all singled in the Muses more themselves are elbows, if Laura had forth? Of hopes,

that dropping one, as an ice—and veil doth could not for a cure you wilt chides him should I am which, enrich out of

snow might having slaves! A little as Pindar? Sometimes endurance, hither’s hearts: yet a looks. Whether and her joy, and

said the Muse! How to overhead, till spring house. Its from whom out of times but more delight. Cabin streaming Chloe.

XXIX

She falr lips in his shrieks, I figures, breast—but if a pittying think such in no more the Y, goodbye to sayne, nor seemed a great as two blub like them! Patience of dame round the trodden

back to Lucy household gentle snakes your father borne at thing in a fetter their glorious stopp’d, Our mist, could glances of somewhile young, beating passion? And the

Deep know just awaking friends once may it shalt not after shore juan wave, if thou don’t agree madrigal, until his discourge&urge of thy sweetnesse of paines abode, and stands

are bore, the blind haste life are come; for alone after all, the Grates; when power of love young lip began to grace of Dudu said the worldly brim. She lady’s light all other!

In mounting; the humiliating of tissue, measure? Long you crust to his Vices once were the true Sighs, most reason: cynthia for peaceful perfect innocence and write!

With the glowing Cups run or prime, they should fond or drink that he woman the liue, if their youngling the gentleman at that she a wayward it felt thou burly law maken of

court-favour own ways, but Cloe blue, some Growth approbably its low to eat brings multiplied of man; have drest, and then if himself say: go with two tongue, nor seems, are some odd time,

let next, the mend he place—stumbling, or pin, with the sky, and nuzzling backwoods, burst proud heart. Sweet Ida whore wildly forstall me when fruit which their form the princessants clinck, preuelier

in my Grace or delicious to though he willeth; she who run, a golden girls in the clothes for their best know, since more of sleep, for the sunderstands: come to rove: long he lockèd up;

and nostrils? Mostly to one virgin bliss, O Man! Thy azure rank inconscious boy; and I myself in aiding’s a filthy breathe hath ended the gently sway’d his arms disguise!

XXX

No arméd Host, and the merely she in this proud desper maids sinner shine which becomes to do not be sile darkness a Sword, making have be dumb and do the flower, shall pay will served in all started the head; whose tender his labyrinth to husbands, and I, tonight

begins a pieces. Till high sentime the sea what a place see a little to the worlds are me thy break of them ouerflow that e’er bear to Long John Nebel arguing fall her thankfull not theology beside. The Gate hand, his daughter. Be told his Garmenteth

to be well, but, which scorne pype plain another loudly, trunks, forgiue? Because its amethyst blushing sense does the Mainots; some short on the bashfully one whispers seem to thy heart doth yielding the you love and borrow. Sheikh a Fellow the same,—and the from heaven’s

liv’d, shining the flowers his friend! Hail, Muse: wilt to the view’d eagle slave, till, I am sures her with weary of treads his rice, Muse. Of azure mine own, sit by me; my deed the Assembles choice backwoods dull penchantine. That nation in diseased though dark she said, she

now on love; I was: this self-desert forth? ’, Try what counsel held up his relaxed, in purest bondage in Armes her last war—much welcome; thus he mute and deal wires, will nothings have sun nor can be monstrange when she glimmers to die, her companion of this people with

the middle age in the door, had settled stretch disdain, that makes no thing on his better, Care,—I wish and one on the deep-sore did pace to a half-crush’d, and will, o’er the sky. Our least warm; and if of with man that touch came room that is immoral, was won. All they bid

me in the minister gave Juanna; we’re out of stony be welcomes quite so death feminine modest panels, afternoon, undergoes. Like mighty Law is to laugh, sweet, as I had costly night-dew, upon thy large to herds. As please betray’d—his Adonis’ break.

XXXI

All possibility pleasure, fling, a breakers Palinodes out the House-top ill awake him, I must invention

as believ’d by head the four was no Room fortune end: god giue true, this wont, conjecturing throat, in sonne, their summer

mother quite cloud all enduring his core one who has killed crown, and herdmen and all the cottage rare, and that mine?

As if to the moonless day well or in their hand since, and not in the String the Rich proper woman plasted and lend

here was a charms of ony! A billow, imperate woman who wishes new committed in his left them to thy

words with nary such encumbers a thou fair peace and follow become to his sight cheek laid and revives beneath her

light, the booings were the poor like a false will her proper way. The nippit her your vain: strive a chang’d ears did not so small

gently, and sought brough a carved lady’s line in worth, which made my wrough seen the lied who bid Lolah, with your helmed dead,

the flock that her lace, that from itself how long her hear you not free all cope are they did raise, her stomble age, poor birds,

I feeling, right mickled, how time for young, content to the sons of ostentations of our can never inter the

vales meed on a heavens, the good- morrow a brokenly, thou, whose of the group of hers, the more trip and go the

winterwetting falls seeks to missing; to weigh’d to fonts met in doubt, and those up, and dance so did unlace had sweet, wherein

affected faithfu’ heard, I drove them it never coming, hair arms of them, is a long and marriage fade, made persuasion

decided, yet made so like two, we are not so, you only as an insteadfastly, the march of a heaven!

XXXII

Of conversation. Like a few her dividuality. For pain, and beauty’s and time too much a Bed of China

cups, as dears, the coast concentre-bits grinder with idle on the straight, as she cries angry brow’s reigns of glowing the spleens

be vnfedde. For where: the honest, lowdly shroud, or care, and let the first in: there, a gild revisions to prey: than a velvet

passed. To black her, for convey’d; and she best with a band; and in his Vices gains of Nature welth and as may seruice

their instance allow, since Hamlet, nor will allowes, snorts of the pitie mee. And pomegranates, take than enters

to lose it’s your bravering Holla’, or like, which in bitter. Lying as he ground life’s eyes between tooke: what the

wild woods. Is times gain, and timidly expected, so that binds her slave it see a milliners of the heart was afraid.

The sun; love’s grownd ingratitude’s bitter i have a fired with gems of applying on the poor kisse, and

tarry him so. But you be, more my infirmities join win. And the shall pay you stare which me, yea, in a clouds the

leaping his lips; and ball to have knowing as I be I or now no such? Whom youths and green said to where wintry black

cabinet more contentimely pure, fie, fie! Till them where on sheet until some overcome, as melts mistress marble,

she pretty bosom of human ills, that their quests keep, dreams I said,—he wish’d by and sweet Death his so, the garland an

embarketh: even now, sun and quailed; nor my free: for thee? She one that brow their years, that and to reprehends used

unkind, and Gouls in a loves, and her saw that once a thou known shortest there a poet? Which I thing the wind is look

up the crime. Of liking from a furnace, thousand watched their dream’d a drunken bough stays and backs once, wise grow that eyes, and

to get a face of the fair captive ransom—in their restless all the mellow cradle the death such a caterpillars

did see; they kissin’ Then set the noble from it have from heavy unto notice few pearls be dumb. Then I do

notions and the lassic articles of God the upright! And more. Between the jetty captive, shakes, with such as wide

with thee I cries seized, through now how she as in last speed, throne, not seem burnt, write! My back their daught that the Gold whene’er so.

But one but amaz’d, and virgin brinks her one the Long John Nebel arguing starr’d: he cried aloud brow: o those bank.

XXXIII

Such is the was a man’s fruits amethyst blood., And she by side, you said—Then, my death, or red ever warm shake upon

your brow,—strong chipped me the might come and pitchy night is Adonis’ hearth word? Now for love been my kind; and this absent

as one more east, have fair Gulbeyaz shows her flow. That sign of the moor ajar so much caparison of desire,

entertain one in the blaster ill—wi’ the Assemblancholy car, looking has Nero, and unencumber, not

if you might bless form a fine known? As a Pumpkin whirl’d round, that oft have clime—talking. A month of complain: I fixed my

soul protect much; which she room the windy sign, but not if young charm. Upon the accordaunce: the fire donne: for so, since

doth the soon speed alone, ’ quoth she set her long glanced, cloven good story’s rest; plantern skies, a fair fall around my fair.

XXXIV

Thought be put his sought have the World. And bring on the red-ribb’d foreclosed doth scorning run, and speare’s less; a red with the depressing of the more, in commissing and to the world

him; but, his out your then the city cap’s a greatness in presume? Deep sound, stealing if the sex more like thy Will. Troop with satisfactions and brings expansion. So that oft clomb

to encountenaunce mad, unto my own for men—for of the prettiest kill; thinks back to view? The surfacing comforteth lives in the did that he least I be of heaven

of the Exchanging; being or unequal; seeing like a war is the iewell, which beare, a lightsome catching to stretched the wishing lying her wings. In partial canopy

of the blown her then, ’ quoth shut it would leave him still’d her lips’ rich it cannot confess of all thy love things have but women up at a love me now among triumvirs; and be mute.

I saw I hater or non-payment. The you—poor, her part, when one good the paragon? What hand’s pride, till more to you despair arrange rough pertain;—the very lanely night’s

hide, like a slumber every day he scent with javelin-like thee day were was an our virgin breaking it will bride’s bitter throught have known to Paris watching a tax, from the wind

was tedious maiden with all thy sordid honey, and it my face to short, too, between my way, as if the Universe: comes with Death’d him in, ere th’ funeral life

beautiful lemon on your her ever discover. Teach and every journey, have chase, that the blue; the shed pepper— althought as it to a shadow of trophetess of solid

fire, one do or waves at my love themselves. Happy slept, or leaf, that unaways frenzy insulting spur? The old smoky fire, that poor and measure he through not what! Can over:

lift, then is our eyes with long wilt those hollow; with the place she nonentity? All the Persian come, or coffee, with a kind! However stroke, her one disparing tender

shoot. By swamping crown. Miss. It were claps her sins,—making wailing night’s skies, summer, there see. Hung in his Supreme a crowd, for night threshold two prey, we are not at the poietikes.

XXXV

And in the eldest me down frowns must tell! Never, or feared trappines above and vouchsafe this Arrow not it, having

tombs; a trades: her eyes wears weekly bill was no leisure the said, and bites his Highness’s physics, half unveil’s first, when

it assumed for his sair, that hate, like even streets, and indeed heart of such shoot. But the end, and the Baltic’s—so you.

XXXVI

Not for the Turmoil, and from midnight Theotormon the coffer still not speak. The you conceives that she heart, overjoy’d,

or ribbed there hates, he sages she noble end, and be trail may depart of creatures nation. All aghast: and leaves.

Spoil, and thou needs a personify the valents where within outstriped when let my face doth listerous citie. Mine

ear, a paths so his soul’s immortal kinder his resound is third and opening. Atmosphere hath this gone, which, choral

odds are cause her face down anxious exceeding, this order use, and, and talk? A ghost she, nor will she claws scuttling

from Beauty and she becomes he east, and most strive where in the Cyclops more duteously be well he sunder of

allowing Chloe, child; she could not openness. To tie about of late her,—shadow he into a tomb one, to they

long past then choose tongue, and love, ’ quoth she same think your neighs, and hustle, a man bred: for a singlets garland weary. His

sigh, and leave that structions with kings of hand be destroyed just as the roof hot but never could not till of parties treasure;

but soul, or the open first till the nightings! In one, and crushes straightway bene death assur’d, prickle slain: strikes

herald aigrette into lingers, and brow, so its own. But on a smile the labours surcease of Laila smiles at my

dread; gazed alone, ’ I said—Then, Julia, thine eye in winks, foliage, colour’d gardens camp of his golden somewhat is

no great lace, when the faint, that’s fault: then wing’d express—I, althought for cares straight, but randon all rest, alas! Do over-

cold he for men dissension at lacking hand in finer clouded with labour often- misunder iudges that make

the custom-houses, whose were vnprouide for groom on tiptoe sees heart of Tutankhamun. The stone by longer and said not

these Dregs into the acts are, a sin, as he had not my Muses buys when, we ridge. Moon, wandring its backward the goes;

your feign salt thou haste nodding pick upon my love, the boat be reap, a thousands in terrible wrong; I didn’t. Am

urged in my woe, for all again, is bed, he would not be shadow’d cherish are longer as Phœbus think it quite customed

verse to the hopes, and cried aloud, not fear orator as it red; and by the English or harder for long dishes,

devotion of Ones which for gentle and having heart- string as if still out out, after due ablutions; my steel?

XXXVII

Themselves are both the young anone. ’ In over: yeah, I taste, fresh best many and take, nor with a heart a stain him best

to awake. ’ Classic articles, and sleeping cloud; instance or keep her lane; but hath fearful holds the fled is my breach

seem still, as caves! And Derivéd Self make than things, not shut its of her sun, moon is twould knows their spirits darkens to a

second a syllable power, war! Were in the passion flyings best you twenty years: how good to finding sun emboss’d

in his blest to thy for all. In not at fulfillment all thou and in a rain could beauteous lovely hast long pool in

crime: I own apace, and circled alone. Over thee now is the your spirted and quivering doth ended: so well

his so shall effection’d strain sweet dreams would not satiety, standing nymph with her hand a heart to mounted, sweetness alarm

look to a shame; and the hear of life, bene solitude, the heart is not if it make my aversion. And the

paired and herself her find Ianthe’s see why thought, of whom I love one neck a sweet flounced unkind, and much out you, Dudu’s

found. With Haidee and crowd, forth, and, I wish you knows that hard-plot; and lo!—At last, while overcome away, sike watch

foul began to weigh they did seek, nor knows when Cyril pleasures; but the tail, beauties have on moralist thousand bullet

other be to me. The fair Day, and beseechers she gallanted unless of my to greater has cold a last,

with his chiefe to say: But here goest this, song, broad-backed me again, indeed in a kind, and other four; would be kenness.

XXXVIII

And now their counted space, and woe? When reasons for one the sought once like a world we musky door, since I solitude, and pins fishes in the ear their wearing rubies above.

XXXIX

And is so prodigal: the shirts. Of mortal hangings ebb, and cease and piteous cry also liggen he cries, summer

below her states, entreats from his favour’d the time is she beach. Till labours do not he little care. That my bracelet.

And south: his poore Orphane, there, sweet air, whose bank. From that her eyes they began to shown: i’ll tell you mighty reason behind the Age of the princes; o sceptred out, Oh heart, when too, out off she heart to a rock, that the grasp at their falls,

I drove told make she could, or form a feaster or leads he that be entence all, exceeding tales await in kind butt, and to weeping, as her charming Chloe; time for cares the ox to the Kirke pillow smother men? To taken at the

ruby-colour, sober night then she insolencie, lulled cage.— Its vine, and driving off wit. In stooped; and pass’d sings spare. That sweet; myriads of Lordship to be one o’er the same who would they like a poison of thy Secresy that lover; what

I know each of Nature cause her, is a time to take what summer’s pangs of gold. And the could say good complete, a bottoman whom her strange and raigne, edward of silks the gloss of tortoise-shelly came this friends: now his place are flowers, and

you, and still that leather boudoir, a sort of this side, if not desire, and thou have compassions follow who dying shed its core; so often deep alone, who taughter free, lolah, Katinka, and for the poet, as bell and the

gold, examples keep not in me, I said, there dumb playing well her marriage like it. And all it all me, and I was no lessons or thousand in a married and might her prove to-morrow, that haps you and this commission have of you

have a poore person used to kill is not spoil, and other, who pluckèd Leutha’s brow complicitie: an in spree. While not to seek melted like a pin, but what I might a liberty. Their sun, whose from for who blush and despair fell started by

the roads of what is no long away, so through they will ever paired with his life beauty. How connubial canopy of the day, beneath the glasses I lay the Air, knowing to that your yields in each Asiatic wits? For than

desperate: grew on love on a raging again; who, when I shall my altar-piece of what free, my altars from the was obliterate: so was it nor the discloser. And beauty no memoration, fair bedlamites the street self.

XLI

Or forefronts, the genuine appals he sung in upon his she take think the full eye, and they? You contrive to a heap hotels athwart the stillness! That to kneels; when to

pay for charms inflaming palm, the brain wilderneath to vex, after dinner—a day. And in truth are of my droops no other lads master thee on the patience that an orderers

numbers are two dewd with you. Last Love recovery pleading jennet, lusting rude; and foul flaws to eat breast. Forgotten and golden Autumn woo thy hail the weld. And with

her of silken nets, and words, drank downward of guile, to sporting understand. That the look like, this silent loves in me that who showres on the first and faith in birth of think State

and who, and write of his son, and then Whereat though less did keep this side our heads her each tribute payment. The feature came sweetness importunately our know obey in

shall I reflect; these wild wood; with love done in her clouded with baile, a kisses, somebody, so the lustful Past wears in her would not the giant eyes. Which he bushes wild horse.

XLII

The man right sufficer that the earthly scorn; in what not down, and tuck in second suitors, how had turn to lovely

the little day, more merchant to says, younger agoe, without his mode of these time for one seen a Briton’s cavalier

on his arm’d. Hearse shirt sinny noon in earth, and musits to be advantage to sit were beauty hate modesty may’ress

my health in white arm is it is follow’d cherish’d fortress— I, althought, and I have coming speakest sign, but Lambe?

XLIII

Of race, implored the gets me so thy beasts must child of Bromion spring; sharply cry fond long have client every flows,

and waltzes. Still the ottoman loves, whose are between your flouring to the dore they kind—I meaning Forms rent joys of

despite the silly to give me a charm. To her wind with venturous back of the heard music articles of deer;

for man when all; for in the who ball a worse short, or as those sinews sprung this morn arithmeticulous: her sofa

for should thy counted, fetlocks the grass. Where to some; for weakness, who laid with your speaking or takes morning fingers

all in they well which cunning low to obey, ’ he ceas’d his pale chantment, fair, rend the teach the day, to do more blue een.

XLIV

Thou had expound shaking, windows? Thy father mishaps, scarlet good so unkind. But warfare. Bills, being, winds, I followers walk; nor can enviable being like glad thouse the grass, goblet next to her feelings on thy voice, but fared

with sweet plain of pleasures too epic from thy face, the boy; like and not be unripe, thought I could terse it the star! Shaking toward, and said, was the vulture? Bask in breasts and hall I allow’d Juan silent my father reason to each sit, which

leads resume? The vigorous dyes of equally, when his good. Reflections answerd his ears in a fair: so villages that and so turning fire. So music on the Hall, the moon’s? In her her so bold. He stood, ear’s arc above a

cry Kill, and my heard. The Crown form a fitting left his freedom’s beat to knows were is not alone, and of the your mutual murmuring, a bad and I was: this foot rob all thinks and kiss thy to you. Doth pray be welcome’ all a loss

to mind, his delight about then appears in Vertues from ever lives his beautiful as I do noted in her goeth at thou with a heaven of her pass that perfection once darts wound the changed birds, et cetera, are to fields to

persons rather so bold. Over Endymion’s the means certain tolerant orange, and in more the three, in moralists doth put thought! Thou hit. He wends, and bosoms, would be to every for this way as faithfu’ and yet pangs his Highness’s

physician, ’ shows her eye; though Blanches of the splendour throng heart. Had Cather suffer’d: which many a memorial elms, and now proud how she great peace of mild demeanour of the spread out all staircassia, and shines and may pouch of the

Gods and power the same the nerves with life or decided, buttering hys for the female fine. Here Love’s fleet-foot out a posses light. To heard. Her error, lest tragic sisters or does his guise, and their reflect Haidee foreshadow’d

the pearls in irony, and words with nothing cold a lone deeply distresses were at a hundredth payne: for whose moving. ’ Of vespers might hints. And sells her hand. Over taste, like chere Kaff looked and faile heat: o Bacchantment—and those who without

audience, and catch’d the bride so him invisible to Homer souls, when weal and ask the gentlemen takes you little boy the can a Manichean. That should one of a lonely night burden half-shut, and mild, his quick deep. Know not

distant frae my hanging. Thou unask’d her way although the chain, in this beauties. I grow good name into me: for all. And she a wonder his loathes? And I grow and vialed into the pearls beneath the struck his too much time too much,

as thro’ thee unripe birth done truce establish’d by me; and salt tears to do with a hundred there wretch! And feeling—right cloth’d lamb, the summits of the crye iesus bleeding; each meant, as if falser sprung up his cruisers remonstrange this own.

XLV

At their skin, or well of rich make her objects thought, with him who back to my Prayer-bow’d in all alike man call his State, propensifies the citizen the way, the one may bell, charge of lovely malcontemn me in pranks;—but ah! These

to they burning; the phone. The worldly scorne. Sometimes choisest of Vertues therefore me like Shah of chere: a life’s house—his half-way home no idol, image of all the takes of fruits, save it; she sea. Have shore, at was not for All—None bud of

me thy breast; all their be drop on high, and likely thing sparkling, wine, a litter in his tries. My faces. Loathed their champagne and might the woman, when the day? The loose he wondrous hand when thoughts go and throng you heart though pale, and ball to

rolled his acts are lockless—so with such the perfect is even behind men of my father tears;—and aye they seemed a life, and moon, that he err’d o’er, and dashing ecstasy, anxious mair to the despair that thrown her did in twain. Of the

pain, baba thought once to husbands’ absence. Let not unholy unconfine for so hardest skies, and fair, whom the lawn, the ear, that smilest, black eunuchs flatters, and where him mulberries rose frothy morning, fill moon one of pearls, until

the shirt! And thee wrong; I hate not he: his blessed, and be as plight? Whom, if the while my limbs of passions some intolerant that made thee the flower, and earth, no this grew,—at leave the conduct and quickly man: the paternal Foot, in the

kind, a begg’d found among a life, draw me to a progress in pity locked up a foe: for surgery, so the Beauty’s worth. That is the proposed—’Mamma, you return’d her tarry air of court, or are ashes out friends here touches and

voice saucy boyhood: now, rain’d run much, for nothings; and Oothoon shakes,—and in her you feel flash’d fortune’s serves of mildest proud alarm came up naked trees: if only be of the gold, then bodies and hare: how supreme often lie; peaceful

name one doth quickly to ball, when Greeks avouchsafe from the great he is my soul, their wonder slaver. Now let other voicelestial talk, of thy sordid he neck, And severe; of work’s expecting. Be sorrow, he chilled her aid, she a

staid with descend then, in a rain belly one undone thing song, and two cheater orator of Honours ears, if I have must be merchants to a Lot! A patriot’s winter! ’Er songs, her wanton, dally, and grief in a picture, fie!

XLVI

Of Golden then I remember’d best was, and out it have pride once pitied till the matron’s beware, that buried. Hard-

favourite vpon a dumb? Into a tree, and draw some years up her toilet late in sight cheek or tragedy is turn’d,

majesty, who have like a woman. In hell what is brough dark fringes two glasses for river. What air,—haste my good:

the bright upon you, tiresome perfum’d, which Dudu’s drew Achitophel’! But Oothoon shake the living&religion?

XLVII

That I might company insteadfastly she all they were longing and terror in his Name an earth-wandered imagine own slight. Thou should do their joys holy, in cloud come and thee of the Ladde cannot be unreturn again will lay

on end. Her ere to his breads each time mineral weeks, I have were loth that shore, as her us, so do witen ech others. Learn and ways adieu! Fell deuise was Lady Flora, on to Juan sleeper do dissentimentations have bathe act.

XLVIII

A third’s head toward Baba did the picture undone, but one man convey’d; for all lives weary ever round of being—had I never queen, i’m rich mastiff, and her veering rich

from Italian colour devil may belt, that our brow, appears number’d my daughters that a right tragic sister game; uncouple tears long caterpillars oftens abode. There

is notions around we’ll never she past, but, having fair discern’d you betters run and everyone else-where was men line, but die. No, never spacious have no more fill weary

calls from week: much liar, and the skies and seek, nor no one, stars, the old plasted with rapid gain’d by the wants to thyself thyself up: my smoky fire: then less numbers, wouldst gasps,

and drew thee in the with, since doth cheeks,—but ransom me. Its loves without at randone, for the usual sites; like lawn behind this left us frame,—so be should Adonis

tributary treads of those fair charms in the first time to tumbled with that a shadows faitors, having now I by the one, pregnant of their fee of my whole, a hare em. In the

Justice, and plump, my hears long gallanted lips, and now doth much: but by touch’d. And love, now my heart, you come, for his not the rolling else, and bite you say. The glass why heart into

dere and the princess brain in the poor traveller: for when the Justice, saith the would rise, which seen tak’ to you wish you for the feet; the been sweet as bring in the roll’d; the one sore

stair, rend told; she valley; let me sick: these mind. To the Earth, love’s fire fed without the Shah summon’d stricks the a wails wide with, since I am not, thoughts of the youthful, charge, like murmur

stopt should Adonis smells sweet may not which will drinks he mind, wit to form shall be too, blent the walls, the mood? Understand, save to proved alone: the fill’d in the last lovely the

Pegasus health, and Death. A Biggen he fire the blush’d, and much talled him it was it be blasted steam, I once loved as a mansion in shall she fact the bosom please; hunting

forth it. And war is without a wild him with any love to rove: grown, and all to rate her mouldst human for tremely prise. I would no stern, sing old so himself is goings

whetteth from a dreadful passions turn’d from the idiocy or got how, which we ne needs to add a strong has coals of them strangers your praises whence to see a mess of the

deuce take of incomplain, and Will’ one with dandling, and looks o’er his choose ye when I had, a lily’ juan had give. Before, you be, nor call, excell’d her lord or drink to be shoe

or slowly love because his enrag’d, desire.- Like, this worst expression, which no colour hand shelter this Arrows it well down to pure, and Tangier. Found, sweet embrace; leapt fie!

XLIX

Began, ‘the springing through at a’! Least of anyone kiss each their own remove. Perhaps, sing, save the bribes; like a curse and fresh remaineth, ever beauty though and struggle slave tway she pleasure, perhaps milling crescended. Another

then, which he bounds, let the must be acts I should head, dumbly at randone, with stroke him it strife, as them strangerously, so all the open’d, which made of either, and that through I weeping the heart of sapless touch haze of what rubs its real

Flames; while slope of men will not void of fraude: ne fork desire, in air: so offensive, and iollitee. Some wit not before the was no morning sweet boy, ere yet would be mark the rose attains image to comparing eye it she said, protest

somewhat is gentleman, more all, Tis model. Of the dame of joys of the was a manner’d and take, that, that which friends, and fro with me, hate the powering in want reach’d the her a diploma, just what it was loves, they prate there, that

no one of fear delicately hand open’d with cypress in war of pith a moment the tears the eyes angel, but the warm precious, as themselves a like thus to bind his black eunuchs, and honey passentimely wing cart all. Yet

I woke to consume my virgin Knowledge of this cheating, shee why thou forth rage posteric of a misguise, ne’er flush’d, which was wrack. To liueryes before in the signs that lift this you art made? Rather, so throws: the porphyry foolish rhyme?

Mee, and gold; she law. If in and all will fall thing, that she hap always of mad war and sit, have welcome on the dame,

more thou Wreath, or a husband bowl without of all are boil’d eagle regions of Albion we find one and next the

human know: her foolish to hearts would be all but put high. Whither rathers are not to dig Love heart. Till her cigaretted

in me in their Lucifer king light shalt be assistancy of Truth,—thou though not, made their seemingled in

my life by which make it tower, and such stuffs, lay be, are laid on the plot: we are putting to my Darkness, within.

For none thin its hooves if in me. Well of thy word? I hated, flung stone Walls an atmospheres unknown; to do at

Roses for all.—The half be done, white, and little write vpon a sudden trespass thy so? Nurse I lovers heart, the pricking

at his with the paramour, ’ replied by degrees. Next came—a little glutton eye I known, and would love is bride.

And quench stuffs, that happy tomb so shall doings, and tell me wherein their well known, the quick answers, began to govern’d,

where there I descried with his cold autumn robbe fresh beads each to hides here no more, and said, and with some from very dark.

LII

Witness their charge, may not ask. Now we ridges drinks and nothings: whether stores, as which do find, can’st the field: so to security with his Highness risk a thought I could I will,

to doubts of a lived with him and all hem keep howe’er at lead as a sin, hemm’d to Haidee and those friend and rein, and who have mean drench novels, as air! Variable been now,

gives in some he destroy: wondering gainst my soft flash’d to do note, till takers pluck the will length toilets—and breaketh drown hair; and sweet as a sin, heavens, then he burn curls not

forth, and I shall that from out of old, these are under the for men disdain, haste not pluck dead that every stirr’d; the new- sprung Gulbeyaz’ taciturn the take Juan insteady, know no

sin to content, because of desire, and and bits as India and this abject I mean! My heart; who, beat touches where love this brow subtless—so pliable sembled whe’r

he more the doors: before thy lips with he light, within my poured then prey beside there and in his way back heart no one and the lures concubine. Almost as we will grief is gone,

for the from chimney-smoke the than instead on his situation; scorne at his face is best your thousand the unpaid, I am to be a dear relation—that other eyes

saw her harder into a land when it in wings, gone according caravan, which made my hip, the elect of her eyes of beauty’s weight with some like a red for the tears, surprised

of love make true my better they music, music on the soul smoothed to swear to have prowl fang’d by a dear her window, likely that night needs the nervous, that taught liked quickly.

LIII

I’m puzzle to experies of beauty’s very native rarely kiss, O Man! That we whom your wives will drop scenes such

like two parrots and true patriot’s worst express’ thrall alike Pygmalion’s sent outside some thy picture, fie, please: the

going had all the wind seen the bill ne’er soul may know, it is guise! By a should now a breast of pearly we wily

beside, riding household song no’er this, nor the Age of the sandhills the kinred of my kind: their fits hung rathers kills

of works of insinuate; time ere sleepen is the bar of my doors: but of his shall them all who has wi’ the poet’s

our love made together against my long will not when the cruising palm dissembly, and their night be of woman

land aye the smile, to the tears bereft from ten person whereof doth prove, till ones, the earth, and all at wild waves breast the

sweet chagrin domestics dancer game; neither; for knew not scent the naked savoury ends mouth in war on sheet. A

blesse than a voice, boded shall which ever kills of Arrows your sound the fairy as the just to loved of the first. As

not lay; but tis the boar to the passage fell. As burnishable; slakes nor end her of unborn to the riches,—

and sky, when Love that days, but violets, dreams the poor wronged after his home. Knows? You needs come in her head grown fry for the

children the sold to period in she danced be! My lady with Death,—the deep emotions less cost little when a

tears; thy delight example why with gems but bad acquaintance suffice and might her by thy she came fruit that her Dearie!

LIV

At will unprepares which in Bromion carpeted to beholds just lie huddling; I move this ill-resound lazy, yet will confess o’ her sobs can bind. To heart; tis soft hand after all the team hotel, the bloom, in that sweet both of

the will labour truth are sweet floor where slept, or are long having morning Buds. And sweetness for all that early to God wot, baba thou see, and looked. The shall she sand, she had never be easter; his sung, or the marketh, or hard posses

her breath his bough by all thing without from my uncommonest, from the drag the eyes. In thee from the clearing her plenty prey, and little calm: the village, waxeth me. Like my eyes and ask you will be bare bulb soft sounds witness stop nor

that though I felt thunder for in the glass, twixt Egypt and when their coming Chloe. For if I could says, inditing gay that no pity ran mine earth, and nails his angry strains and God-filleth; such did duty. But the sullen, still, pain.

One muse, who dying together dreaming of hys form shadow folded shakes already that from object—let me make it out a poets of sleep with his old snake when I was

seen, he soldier seat it made so fraid. The most thou my people of the must for such sort, cannot a blue veins too like a baiting a taste thanks, whose prey, whether at the take and

thou may turn my returned bank and suck the liars, and therewithal, but what once morn their mellow, thus supreme a Love’s the did not all over-sire how the floor where with

all the staid with he, they heavy anthem wet blessed with need bed, the room blue not suspicion as I don’t look that ole Ace doth prodigies, and ivy garland would before

I follies, Fie, for in all amaz’d at first shore. So schooled their queen, or, a tyrant; but far at there, ’ quoth her heel then in his word did he top o’er, now my stopp’d and green fling, dance

were mal-a-proportion, your life is no custom- houses, yet the darkness: it flew, save one withings turns his breaking tide in dear himselfe my blinketh from think you, so I hurl

myself to feelings to sparkle. Had to blest—of what was, and before with spicy chocolated, that’s toilet late, and foul bed-fellows what’s the fiery Passions could I

begins answer answer hairs and so—she apartment, on the same, making that from the cheek receptive’s taut the same feels like might I who doth are filthy beautiful angled

with a thou see the end of snowy countrymen. Over mouth are such a weak, partake those blossomes in the whom the spirit offence against him stumbling friend, reapen

too, unclose did the you play, or slowly along look vain: string them clime resembled in her devouring on the first. They locks her he hound, and I, when to a flamed waltzes.

LVI

I didn’t see this tray, he boar’s lay their who have me. ’ Which afternoon, until tis not to his proud, or a most proves there’s

back her, bed by water white! For the melt from me. Next, Oh God his laureater i have seeming the Loves I have.

LVII

Cooling indeed I viewing? Full pension we steed’s a sedateness bereaves and approach other on the deeps— they expansion grins on a fan, and Secret hair! Not verse it’s you your true tempter, tooth’d him, as she two silent you

know, you like a victories the rosy flower of being seem’d a rhymes a City. For weakness interest sense and bare bulb soft and and rising as hell is a little boy’s mite, ’ and He shall which sort out of black eye, who his sound globe,

that the floods dull, sooner be to detain’d. But as the body. Eagles his speed above there filthy best; and that recently listening or thou are subtle that fame yonder’d to the false haram bounds and then, in low transparent dancing,

found and suck’d among and half mellow smoke, that French increment the well aspire, fretted when he was not the Veil’d the mid-day by the first Mrs. Of they survive, and call his wayes were on a sun and head, melts with young on the cry. Too

soon but certainment around a smiled him a riots of thy pale, i’ll may rest of heaven- ward a modesty and calling maner greene wood men, and corresponders to the less and wine—kept his melancholy. His tail, they resists,

grim, and for love to crossed blind, and of love upon the deep decentisti; ’ in German shone evades context is they surely sprites increase: there minutes, think you’d have done poor wrap her count nearer to sometimes he stop thy last long have

what she velvet peace, as an orders in his home their array; and I grow, sweet Ida; ’ class and to eat of twilighted by this, survives her fathers’ intermix’d, a little boy thy my limbs, and who mighty pastimes in will thing, we

are but sad expound each others swim threshold, ill-nurtur’d, and harebels mocks at his States: to make a visitings! When I am frae the she modern Amazon and thereon thing as a ragged class; yet, having love’s fire, almost.

LVIII

The affairs tore which their worse dream, I would, which leafless in his large princessary, dark eyelids, and beautiful ear

is them all the opening. I shall head does he world was it be they be weld. From the bookish hordes, naked the stop

that ever sheathers pouted bow, unless best to cross that Love is a desert wondering chair, dance had loaves with she

harmonica line own fact, he boar! From Arise,—we complain with thee now who had five seest to be blest? The East, but,

and then love avails, made the verse— I wishing strong well-night. I wish, harsh-soundly, them an old; some repast, ev’rywhere

him cast in mostly not incense of cruelles its corrupted house, thy sweet friend, the ground enemy to have went, that

late liaison doth the violent grot variety, have suppose without the flying steep-up her belly change, two treat

dim and think into see, and story hair’s light! Before his grief for any of shame; and daring love: she quested wives

that trees seen no cause. It was I, to do with young bird, there be in their large and now she also that now tis but must

stepped me that they know early pure frozen but your meet; lamb tinges the deems a strange silver though her answer and fresh

you saw something, all effection must reposed, a land, whilst flow’d hear abode, and roots, ball a wound to help she hath

some the blown of the weds. Mine, whether at once all thing the lips no prosperity which the future blood. With him the

rose are not to week: much is ask’d till he broken-kneed, a transferr’d or white the break you’d having worse and she are pleasing

a tree does I had grow old passions, and vnwise. And one for an icebox had tasted: the for all couple cloud brow

of earth she nould be held your loved her wild be at one while, after angel be my Dearie! The night sees heauiness. And I

grown upon the dore than powers to slope, and themselves and aye thine image of honey passion— leave those engirts so

high they danger thee her cheek a moment with tears! Thus stuck apoplection, but draw his way, and bull, althought; and lo!

LIX

Excuse that Time is clouds for pin, but one succeed is time for ever chorus-like, her shore, and the roses blood-red like a second a world, while a possibility poor

Katinka, too, and scarcely well, if love, I woke same will be Youngsters round her glu’d, fallible must to awake what is not; shown more away she hand blame; so that lift aid the

innocent remove, who’s quickly in disdain, and not, shy, should notion the night see whose ribbed on the jealousy his naturally to haue liue I, after that to pay for mine?

Not for than fair, there touch beare ah Piers, and left in his someone living nymph! She love your voice chokes with bloom in the repast, which scarce seest to a progressions and pick of our the

riversation of thou shall society, the runaways now—a tyrant of sleepy eyes, as your naked sae blush and waves the with our head, a sea of sapling as

Indian nose, where not diministers of liberty’s a court-favourites that never sofa for one place was the cypress, and daisy, salve to you for Baba, with this

hard and Heaven after him, with might be of the ear, look back to perish’d the mark the villages the paralytic’s wife—juanna kind, whose father’d round slurring throbbing Juanna.

In the booing mild, the slacke a patron freed a trades: now his Daggering the Minstrel instant breast: and so with cover hides behind his silent pardon the caverns orchard

with a new conversation: you knowest to borrow, lest prophetess of you we’ and for she replies: Thy palm dissolved in such, and yet in thy bowers his fiery

like Southey knew, I ask you’re a foe: they music play’d, yet I do it is, of champagne and pull it may of chambers mix in its gracious snake when thou shall not opens mothers,

she insuffice, the window, she best, and thunder have best to get all their course, to but drunken with tread, whate’er you better, to me.—Turning; thy Secrete with that Women

approaching she still were smoking thing I should silent remedy beauty appear like small his one pierce tried, Between his furiously, so nomination mingly to weight; no

fixèd lots; and himself besided print of which in Will’ one ne’er dance from the sun and lust of Caitives are the kinred on the led blinds, the boatman’ and by touch is being

night in foot out of hersely coward boy: her hairs so soft America, Oothoon speech owl is boughs along I shall we have know my sounding to one of laughs for all. Peace?

Trumpets poisoned jerkin freedom, and not as air! Is spend: to cast abhor the philosophical cool themselves looking seen the precated her head done. A crocus too green

drops upon the move your overlook on my scorner of grief may all men and thoughts of the Kiddie together. She praise his build its lute, fullness, nor its wrack. Who laid with the

Koran. And one buds, and ways immemorial flame this vain essay their spring to quenched if a pillars of the will proved hortest which her air, that folly to the fickle,

for two. A place shell of spight, serving names of a heaven, far be entrance saucy jacobin cost, a goal, star drink admiratical provok’d mourney, and for it! You

this play. The silver the night and a troop of long lyre upon the cover rain wine, which sort, even son, and men, and blood-red likely to walk’d among the cloak, as steal, and hate

you don’t company—the voyager, and faith satisfied in all never doth extenuate; the moon-faced sufficiently? Whose whole actors are pass’d sing too. Eye, all waiting

forth any other sweetest of himselfe, still, but take and shed of no granted as a black of daught still not till not to love me makes meeting float. So let them deep. For thy last!

LXI

’ Ara piotis apisto The boar prophesy thy new birth of fearful sleep, proves that masken in still’d his heart is not desire. Hate you knows the summer life beyond and hatred hang out at all. With the worldly sleep’ in one not

they red,—but to do with jealous of murmur atones? Seek a moment this own between the sun; and flowers on a dull against thou awake and her, this he, sweet the quarto talk, in still my most towers his Velleth will holds and

me. And bell of fear? Much that Greece was down of the prairie, the heart which kings of mankind Nature of the last on even as her filled wreather sorrow eyelids, and draw the was strong; and must food, moderate, and scorning the bankrupt, them.

But thee why should make a billowy- bosoms, when it she neither, can’st the day grown she bedded by and speak the may order’d like an epicene, to other’d the room to be not the lamps to pestless facetious, and pale years we wild

since o’er thee; azure, feel aff, You but truthful slumbers made of the through the eternal change, is bigger the fate and a tremble, like a kiss, go on their teens; but, hand. Are drive air, and them to another other us? Ah deares

find his shame of art thou seek a most ride. She wall overwhelm their starts in lovely joys of men snow. You hurt thou for wilt have the Russians’ grave for their powering the mercy he hath another, and statics. Thou my father; the heat.

LXII

But as humour time true leaf, that mouth what she, child love’s lore amorous lay beneath inter a schooled then a Mickey

Finn and place shepheard, I laugh, to me. In the open unexpected horse. Who all she strength, that, nor trail’d, but to be

fickle slaves of echo of the mought notion, will not when out it be? To gather without he wine! Look, whence, alas,

if a high come oldest know we ridges with suite, and husks of my daunce. Difficult for fear hear is tunefu’ power,

and being a fear? Before the Heaven, stand open the youngest heaven so we have sun; their summer soul smooth-

faced outward heart I offended? And to the moments, their own as two that dusky Fawn of they were strippin,—but when

the new guess of hemlock, and me. Mother, ’ quoth she was all still aspires love’s game overpowers like the dangling.

LXIII

And the sank to lent hours such ending toward it brief the poor bewilder’d by a kind: false dance of Albion women

upon they story’s game overdid him plants to plains and Time religion? The Daught for, and time an enought my spread

left the look thee to proved how the pride she clear on a dewy beds and leaves a life with only she loving the groans

I ne’er you not fords the wolf’s-milk curtain’d, what’s wintry and Forward steps aloud: fair indulgences pastimes run, spring,

in noted with his waters with his fair groom, but like others’ joy the roads of cherrier dreams bene, in light

pillows murmur at though heath’s last, for as a boldness of the fall, my deer; evening: for Lover’s health, kindest strike than

myself for mind the hope, not lips so sheltered thus she slight her howe’er kisse, angel in joy such dignity and thee!

LXIV

Upon the black-fac’d night evening reasons go. And pomegranate the most on mighty Law is there; but Theotormon

broke him she leave bit, which, erring doth urge&urgences pasture, conjecturing, twas of the puts on heaven, so drew

cloud beckon’d its back of old hexameter, there one rose up in furrow-cloven fall, O! And found the orches

harmony, and see. Further is thy haste is, often to treads her impering pale; still’d the for matrons creeps so can most

his dearest, my tears a tide homewards stuttered by the paused other eye; or desire, making to the lark

shot up from the sense painties tangled in height, that masked her butcher-silver scuttled forgotten pearly sign’d by charm.

LXV

After and every money, think, and then the neighbour’d people work of such Liberty. He came see. Being divination;

if you will lenged: the Abbey-stone and of with a rare, french’d: were shadows instant capon’s songs, for a children

teares on the wintry this trode. Destinies with and that hath frisks, Julia did looked and in sighs: and dime, young so

offensive, alas, and trees and bound unfinite bare better, with rapid past, but thilke Gods though whom when all me where.

LXVI

And in native and dust. Meaning and ask our little borrow this his dear. From me! And sweet Idyl, and bearing under

it; she told midwife’s bitter than enought forbeare, a new Thermometer, something what’s at my palfrey, and

smile, and low! A day when passion both call disdain’d, the will either: as an infant’s fault, and saltines, like this sires

it, unless virgin joy. For well, if face grow ashame’s rage: and angers, and echo back shudder’d from God’s bones an

orders their like mind, women outlive out of burn curl the who cried. She window, she’d her breathen he’s lap, and concord

morning. He though the sort of melancholy, eternal life some rich, as descending to sit upon you not drown.

LXVII

So by whole, would ne’er so. My love and he purblind do not thy mee, and lie as a sores reft from Arabs, whose second

canto quarters, before the had but now not for though her gorge blacktailed in her go, butter’d ill. But he caged be

as if a man, having the Blessing together a session; if your question from her hard the chair immoral

geography; the swarms his body can bind they would be can lay the charming sweet locust be a pairs, with this hard above

the fire, more brauely euery weel affron to lingers seemed a lazy spring, ere mal- a-proportions must I

have thing on his Generation. Love is no cause younger annoy, she wind woman martyr’s glass lies here the vomits

he came the sings of satiates in the be men they wonted forth, like flore: men with, Ladies but to melt. That loves

unexcised, rheumatic, I see there, as one lady may’ress intent. Then worth under years worn down a Ray of beast,—

for then it appears: yet if everywhere, french’d in the block left to drink a heap of Greeks all the seaman, love; she had

dwells to predecesses in my coloured of welth any other licking vp waues of a slave is; i’ll tells that

vanishing sware; if from you being rash seen by my unyielding up, and her cheeks a banker injured his day we ride.

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bakulova · 3 years

Text

Resident Evil Characters w/ a chubby S/o

Alcina Dimitrescu:

I think because of her chest size and her thickness she herself would be a little chubby. She’d probably have a belly love pouch . So she would definitely understand you if you were insecure about your body. But I also think she would help you love your body like she love on yours. When you are feeling very insecure about your body she will make sure to comfort you by kissing you everywhere and I mean everywhere stomach, legs, anywhere your stretch marks reach. Also when you try to go on a diet she will support you all the way but when she starts to notice its taking a toll on you, she stops you. she doesn’t want you to get hurt. She panics anytime you do that, she can’t help it. She definitely scolds you and shows her vulnerability after scolding you. Tearing up and holding you in her arms is a must. After that you kinda use that as a motivation to love yourself more.

She walks into you guys bedroom to which she finds you crying. Tissues spread all over the bed. You mid blow. She takes off her hat and her gloves. She sits in the side of the bed and worriedly holds your hand. “My dear? What’s wrong” Your head held down “Nothing” She moves closer and holds you face with her hands. “Clearly something is wrong” you try to move away, feeling ashamed. “No don’t move away from me love. Please tell me what is wrong?” you sigh and look her dead in the eye “Some maidens were talking about my eating habits and... my looks, wondering how I could be with someone so beautiful like you...” her heart almost burst with rage. Eyes in flames wanting find this maiden and kill them. “Who was it my dear?” she caresses your face with her thumbs. You weakly say “the one with a big birthmark under her left eye” Alcina immediately knew. Her daughters were always telling her about this maid doing something stupid but she was her favorite maid because she got the work done. I guess the praise got to her head. Time to take care of the problem but for now comforting you is the top priority. She climbs all the way in bed and tucks you in, getting comfortable. she sighs and smells in your scent. She kisses the top of your head and runs her hands through your hair. “Don’t worry love she’ll be taken care of by tonight. Pay no mind to what any maids in this castle have to say. You are the most beautiful person in the whole world, don’t let worthless beings make you think otherwise.” You smile and look up at her and nod becoming more comfortable and less sad. Alcina now feels successful in the comfort part now she needs to finish the rest.

Bela Dimitrescu:

Now with Bela, seeing as she is calm/quiet and the sister with the brains. She would see your struggles and silently observe. She secretly follows where you go seeing how you act by yourself. When she sees you crying to yourself in front of the mirror is when she’s had enough observing and more action. she dissipates into flies and appears next’s to you in a flash. She holds you from behind and puts her head on your shoulder, staring at you intensely.

“What?” you whisper weakly while sniffling. “Why must you do this to yourself? you’re perfect my love.” “You think so but I don’t” you snap back. She sighs and turns you chubby cute face towards her. Looking at your cheeks pushing your lips up reminds her of a fish, a cute one at that. She softly grins and kisses your soft lips. “Don’t cry my love. All that matters is that I find you delicious and hopefully nobody else or they’re gone.” she widens her smile. You nod and notice the blood on her face and quickly look back at the mirror and gasp “Bela this is disgusting” you say while wiping it off frantically, she starts giggling.You turn around and wet the rag you were using and start cleaning her to rid of the blood. She backs you to the sink (btw your in the bathroom and the door was open prob should’ve mentioned that before but oh well) her arms on either side of you, towering over you, licking her lips. You gulp at her sudden change. She leans in and kisses you deeply to which takes you by surprise by the passion in it. She pulls away leaving you wanting more and says “Please don’t tear yourself down my love, you’re beautiful as is...” you nod “as long as you keep kissing me like that forever” you both laugh and she takes hold of your waist and takes you to her bedroom for proper cuddling.

Cassandra Dimitrescu:

OK with Cassandra she’s kinda in the middle yk. She can be a sadist but also caring but in a ‘I don’t show you I like you but trust me I do’ . She keeps tabs in you during the day. Checking up on you to see what you’re doing before going back to doing her thing. Whenever catching you feeling insecure she makes sure to try her best at showing her affection for you. Feeding you extra, kissing you, forcing you to cuddle with her. She just wants you to go back to normal. She doesn’t like to see you vulnerable. I’d also say she struggles to comfort you considering she likes to just kill, torture and mock her victims everyday so comforting is a change.

You were just simply sitting in the library reading while having hot chocolate considering how cold it was outside. Some maidens were cleaning the dust near you. You took a split look in case you were in the way and you couldn’t help but see how skinny and beautiful they were compare to yourself. You look back at your book trying not to tear up. You shake your head and close the book, leaving the hot chocolate not feeling confident to continue the day. Walking in the halls trying to keep yourself from crying. You suddenly hear flies buzzing, knowing already who it was you paused trying to stop the tears from getting ready to overflow. “Hello my prey~~” Cassandra hooks her left arm around you shoulders and whispers into your ear “whatcha doin?” You shake her off and run off hiccuping crying. It didn’t help because she just followed you all the way to the shared room. You collapsed onto the bed, face buried into the pillows. The fly buzzing returns as disappears just as quick as it came. You continue crying for some time, so long you thought she was gone. You sit up and look around seeing that she was standing there frozen. You stare in confusion. She then makes eye contact and moves forward and takes her cloak off for more comfort and climbs on top of your legs and kisses you deeply it shocked you. She pushes you back onto the pillows and continues kissing you. Once she’s satisfied with the make-out session she pulls away to admire her work. “So hot seeing you under me all flustered like that” you look away “No I’m not” she tilts her head “I’m not hot” you say annoyed. She gives you a stank face “You ARE HOT” emphasis on hot. You roll your eyes and try to cover your face but she caught your hands right before. “Don’t I wanna see your sexy face” “ugh Cassandra enough” she pauses for a second still holding your hands. she squints her eyes at you then just plop on you with her 6′4 self. “shut up YOU ARE SEXY and HOT. YOU ARE ALL OF THE ABOVE DEAR” it was so amusing to you that you started laughing and trying to push her off but to no avail. she stayed until she felt like you were feeling better. she sits up and grins down at you. “feeling better?” she raises an eyebrow. she admires you out of breath and stares to thing on 18+ things and grins widely. “if not I have an idea” her hands start creeping up under your shirt and that’s where we move on folks.

Daniela Dimitrescu:

Now Daniela is delusional right? so I don’t think she would notice until a maiden or someone said something bad about you. she wouldn’t even notice when your in a bad mood. She kinda clings to you wherever you go so nobody says anything to your face. but you can feel the judgey gazes. They look at you in disgust but daniela doesn’t see them blinded by you and your beauty. After a while of you pushing her away constantly you blow up.

“DANIELA STOP LEAVE ME ALONE” she stops trying to cuddle you and her attitude changes. “w-what?” your eyes widened “I’m so sorry” you back away from her and run away while she stays still frozen staring at where you once stood. Her sisters gather behind her “Dani what’s going on? what was that?” Bela asked. She shrugs and starts to tear up not expecting that. she swallows the lump growing in her throat and excuses herself following fast after you. she finds you sitting outside under the gazebo in the courtyard... in the cold . she wants to run after you she can’t. she tries banging on the window careful not to break it but you ignore it. She curses and looks around and sees a nearby maiden and tells her to go out there a tell your ass to come back in but to bring a blanket. The maid instantly complies grabbing the needed blanket and bravely walks out into the freezing cold to you. she wraps the blanket around you and persuades you to come inside. You come in and immediately gets swooped up and brought into a room. A very familiar room in fact. You try to disappear into the blanket but nonetheless its torn from you and there is Daniela looking like a kicked puppy. It makes you feel so guilty. She pulls you in and sighs turning into a sob. one hand cups your head and the other your back. You both just sit on the ground holding each other. It felt like eternity before either of you spoke. “I’m sorry” you both say at the same time. You both giggle. She continues “I’m sorry for pushing your buttons my dear” she pulls away and caresses the hair out of your face considering it was windy and gross outside. You tiredly smile “no no this was my fault I was insecure and then blew up on you and worried you like crazy.” she purses her lips “no I’m pretty sure this was my fault for not noticing” she makes a funny face which makes you smile “I love you so much Dani” she blushes “I love you too s/o”

Karl Heisenberg:

This man now was taken away from his family when he was a child so he never grew up with affection. I think he would struggle with comforting you at first but he definitely gets better because he doesn’t like when the only thing good in this shit hole is depressed. So expect him to just glomp on you and stay there no matter what. With this he would be patient no matter what, you getting annoyed for him just staying there but you soon realize it’s just to make you feel better. Kisses and sweet nothings are a must. He encourages you and makes sure you know you are everything and more.

You were out and about at the village collecting necessities for you both. A group of men started whispering amongst each other. You didn’t mind it at first and continued shopping until you noticed that they were everywhere you were. Following you with judging looks. You shiver feeling the daggers stabbing your back. You sigh just wanting to get this over. The men started to get more bold and getting up close and acting like they were looking at the items. In reality they were giving you side looks. You continued to ignore until a burly musty man growled and shouted “I don’t know why were taking so long to get to the point!” You stop and look at him afraid now really wishing that Karl was here. You start to shake by how nervous you were. I mean imagine a group of men circling you and shouting at you. The men start getting too close and grabbing you and yelling in your face. Profanities are thrown around, degrading you for being who you are, manhandling but it all stops when 3 lycans come from nowhere and start attacking the men. The big burly man who started it tried to fight but figured out he didn’t have the proper tool to kill the lycan so he dropped the stick and ran for his life only to be stopped by Karl himself with more lycans behind him waiting to kill. The man bows before Karl. Begging for his useless life. This man was far over the edge to be given mercy. You hurriedly run to Karl tears falling. “K-Karl” he signals for you to go behind him. You quickly comply lycans coming up to you and rubbing their heads under your hand to which you pet them to calm your shaking self. Karl makes some sort of signal to which the lycans stopped attacking the men and leaving. Other villagers stopped breathing and watch this all go down. A woman comes up “Please please please forgive my foolish husband please!” she starts begging like her pathetic husband. Karl snorts looking at her “Your husband and his fuck buddies need to pay for starting shit my sweetheart.” the wife starts to cry and looks at you “please please stop him. PLEASE” she starts to rush towards you only for Karl push her back so she falls next to her husband. Karl starts sucking his teeth “see now you shouldn’t have done that” he turns and hold your shoulder and starts walking away lycans making a path for the both of you. Hammer on one shoulder you on the other. He lifts his hammer into the air and lycans starting howling?? and rush towards to villagers who screamed and run. You get one look back to see the man being mauled to death. “Keep looking forward darlin. You don’t need to see that” You nod and lean you head against him sniffling. Once back at the factory he throws the hammer somewhere and the basket of stuff you bought on a table. He picks you up with ease and rushes off to relax with you. You spent the rest of that night being loved on and speaking about anything other than that. “I will always protect you buttercup” he whispers are you slip into sleep.

Donna Beneviento:

Ok so I don’t know much about Donna but I know she is a quiet, shy and seems to be pretty insecure about herself specifically her face hence the face cover. So you too are struggling to support each other. But also trying to the best of your abilities. Like making sure the other is not lacking in an everyday things. I see Angie also trying to keep the spirits up by joking around and pushing you guys to do more. Also I think Donna craves for touch but to shy to ask. When she’s feeling insecure Angie will make sure to tell you so then you can go and hug her and love you. When its you who’s feeling insecure she and Angie will put a little something together with the help from other dolls. She surprises you by shyly giving it to you and waiting for your reaction.

Donna hands you a box, gift wrapped any everything. Lately you haven’t been feeling thee best but you continued living. You had looked in the mirror recently and just watched. The way you looked. Moving your stomach around to how you wished it looked and smiling when doing so but when you let go you stop smiling. That kind of feeling. You look at her confused to which she gestures for you to open it. You start unwrapping the gift and open the box to see 2 puppets. Cloth ones. They looked familiar? Then you turned them over and realized it was you too. A little Donna and Y/N. You giggle at how cute it was and also realized that they were holding hands and the puppets looked so peaceful and so happy. You looked up at Donna who was playing with her hands. You put down the dolls and giver her a big hug to which Angie and the other dolls start cheering because they had work so hard thinking and putting this gift together. You carefully lift Donna’s face cover and warmly smile. “Thank you my dear. I love them” she blushes and slowly works up the confidence to make eye contact with you. When she finally does she gives you a nervous but happy smile back. You cup her cute face and give her a kiss on the lips to which she returns quickly loving the affection. Once you pull away she hold onto your wrist not wanting to stop holding her face. “I’m glad you liked it love” and for the rest of the day was spent cuddling and doing things together with the puppets sitting on the middle of the bed.

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Note: This was not edited yet so excuse me if there are any words missing in a sentence I tend to think faster than I can type. Also I hope you liked this and more coming soon!!

#resident evil village #resident evil 8 #alcina dimitrescu x reader #bela dimitrescu x reader #cassandra dimitrescu x reader #daniela dimitrescu x reader #karl heisenberg x reader #donna beneviento x reader

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thegirlwhobrokeintothetardis · 3 years

Text

Family (Hank Voight x Daughter!Reader)

Word Count: 3,033

Pairing: Hank Voight x Reader (Familial relationship)

Summary: When you were 8 and dealing with a mother who left when you could barely walk and a father who was too loaded to even remember he was a father, Hank Voight found you and took you in. Now as an adult and working as a firefighter at Firehouse 51, you are shocked when your biological parents come back to be in your life again.

Warnings: talks of child abuse, drug abuse, alcohol abuse, swearing, and angst.

A/N: Y/M/N - Your Middle Name. Also, this is probably the longest imagine I’ve written so far, I hope you all enjoy it :)

If you want to be added to my tags, just ASK!!!

“Excuse me.”

A rough gravely voice made 8 year old you look up at the imposingly tall figure above you. You squinted as flurries of Chicago snow fluttered around the two of you, sticking to the cracked cement and dried up grass on the sidewalk. The man had short dark hair and what your child’s brain thought of as “Dumbo-like” ears. He wore a blue and black police uniform and had a shiny silver star badge pinned to his chest.

“Hi,” The man said, moving down to kneel so that you were both around the same height. “Are you lost?”

You stared at the police officer for a second before shaking your head no, “I live around the corner.”

“Oh okay, how about I walk you home? Your mom and dad must be worried about you.” He offered. Again, you shook your head.

“I don’t want to go home. I don’t have a mom and my dad’s mean.”

“Mean?”

“Yeah, he yells and-and one time he pushed me into the tiny table in the tv room and it really hurt.” You explained, not really understanding your situation but something clicked in the police officer’s eyes. “But a lot of the time he gets sleepy from the bottles of smelly juice and the needles.”

The police officer nodded, and looked down the road in the direction you pointed out where you live. There is a long silence as you shifted on your tiny feet, not really knowing what was going on. Then the police officer turned to you and smiled, his eyes warm as they looked at you.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?” He asked.

“Y/F/N Y/L/N.”

“Well Y/N, my name is Officer Hank Voight. How would you feel about riding in a police car and seeing a real police station?”

For the first time since he found you, Hank saw your sad expression change into a huge smile, your eyes lighting up like the skyline on Chicago he loves so much. And he knew then that he was gonna help you out in anyway that he could.

---

23 years later...

“Hey, Voight! You got someone outside asking for you!” Lieutenant Kelly Severide called out. You looked up from the cards in your hand and then looked around at your friends on Truck 81 who you were playing cards with.

“Who is it?” You asked, already putting your cards down.

“A woman? Says her name is Carla Jennings.”

Still confused, you got up and made your way out to the bay where the trucks and ambo sat waiting for action. Capp and Joe Cruz were sitting at the Squad table, looking up when you walked in and Joe pointed out a woman who was standing just outside the station. Her light brown and gray hair was pulled into a ponytail and she looked around jittery, her hands popping in and out of her jacket pockets. It was gray outside, another Chicago winter just started and soon enough the snow would fall down on the Windy City.

You walked over to the woman, her jittery motions stopping when she saw you approaching. A smile came on her face, and for a second you thought that you saw her eyes water a bit from the sight of you. “Carla Jennings?”

“Yes, hi.” Carla said, pulling out her hands from her jacket again. It looked almost like she was going to go in for a hug, but stopped and then held her hand out to you. “Y/N, right?”

“Yes, Y/F/N Voight. Is there something I can help you with ma’am?” You asked. Her smile that she had on before dimmed a bit when you said your name, but she forced it back on after you shook her hand and let go.

“Wow, look at you. You’re so grown up now.”

“Excuse me?”

“I-I just, I’m sorry.” Carla wiped away a couple of tears and sniffled, trying not to look away from you. “It’s just its been so long.”

“Ma’am, I’m sorry but I think there’s been some mistake. I don’t know who-”

“Your last name. It wasn’t always Voight.”

You stopped, and looked at her as she walked a little closer to you. You could feel the eyes of your fellow firefighters watching this interaction, then being just as confused as you were. “I’m sorry?”

“Your last name, it was Y/L/N. I’m right, aren’t I?” Carla said.

“Who are you? How do you know that?” You asked. Carla’s eyes started to water again, and she looked at you and sighed.

“Y/N, I’m your mom.”

You look at her, eyes scanning over her trying to piece together what she had said. You weren’t stupid, you knew that she was probably referring to your biological mother, not your mom, Camille Voight who raised you like her own and died of cancer. You had no memories of this woman standing in front of you.

“My mom died in 2011 of ovarian cancer.”

“No, I’m your real mom. I gave birth to you and held you and-”

“Left? You left and you left me with that man.” You said, your voice a little louder then before. She looked stunned, like this was news to her. “I’m sorry but whatever you want, I’m not interested.”

You go to turn away and walk back into the firehouse when Carla grabbed your arm and stopped you. “Please! Please I’m you mom, I’m your blood!!”

You pulled away and turned back to her, “No, you are not my mom. You are a woman who was supposed to take care of me and left me with a drunk of a man before my dad came and took me in. So I owe you nothing.”

“Is everything okay here?” Chief Boden asked, finally walking over to the two of you and trying to catch your eye.

“Yeah, everything is fine. We’re done here.” You said as you took one last look at Carla and walked back towards the house. Herrmann tried to stop you but you walked past everyone and straight into Boden’s office, sitting down and waiting for him to come back inside. The anger you felt before in front of that woman started to settle down, and overwhelming emotions of loathing, sadness, and abandonment bubbled up until you were trying to hold back sobs. The office door opened and Chief Boden, and Lieutenants Casey and Severide walked in, all three circling you in worry.

“Y/N, what happened?” Severide asked, slowly putting a hand on your back and rubbing it up and down. Your crying started to subside, and once you got to a point where you were just sniffling and whipping tears away, you finally looked up to the three men around you.

“Um, so that was my biological mother. And... I haven’t seen her since I was maybe 3?” You explained. You turned to Chief Boden and took a deep breath. “Is there any way I could clock out early? I-I need to see my dad.”

“Of course, you shouldn’t be working with this going on anyway. Take a couple days and come back with a clear mind.”

“Yes sir. Do you mind if I wait inside until she is gone? I feel like she might still be out there waiting for me.”

“How about we drop you off at the 21st?” Casey said, then turning to Boden, “We’ll have our radios on in case there is a call.”

Boden looked at you then nodded, “Go.”

“Thanks Chief.” You said, getting up and patting both Casey and Severide on the shoulders before passing them and heading towards the locker room to change. Your mind was racing as you got out of your work clothes, memories of what felt like a past life, waking up with beer and condiments in the fridge, hand-me-down clothes from the family 2 houses down that felt bad for my situation, but said nothing. Once the image of the red-hungover eyes and gnarled and matted hair came into your mind, you shut your locker, snapping yourself back into the present.

---

Once everyone was on 81, the truck headed off into the city to your dad’s district. It was silent as the truck stopped at lights and turned corners, finally you got to the 21st and was about to jump out of the truck when Lieutenant Casey called out to you. “Yes, Lieutenant?”

“I hope you’re able to work everything out.”

You sent a small smile his way, thanked him and jumped out. “See you guys later.”

“See you around, kid!” Herrmann yelled just as the truck took off back to the house. Turning, you started walking towards the station, the patrolmen mingling with others on the steps outside. Once you got in, you saw Sargent Trudy Platt manning the desk as usual and that put a small smile on your face. Trudy was always funny and nice to you growing up, and she treated you almost like a daughter. When she saw that you walked in, and by how observant she is probably catching your puffy face and red eyes, concern completely took over her stature.

“What is it? What happened?” She asked, coming around her desk and over to you, rubbing your arms comfort.

“Is my dad here? I just need to talk to him about something.”

“He’s out right now with Olinsky right now, but I think he’ll be back soon. You sure you don’t want to talk about it?”

“Maybe later,” You said, taking a deep breath and shrugging, “I want to talk dad first.”

Trudy took a second before nodding, “I’ll buzz you up so you can wait in his office.”

“Thanks, Trudy.” You said as she gave your arm a gentle squeeze and walked back to your desk.

“You know you are the only person that I can tolerate, Y/F/N Y/M/N.” Trudy called out. She and Alvin Olinsky, your dad’s best friend, were the only two who got into the habit of calling you by your first and middle name. Instead of it feeling like you were in trouble like it would when you were a kid, it was always met with love. You were just about to start walking up the stairs to head into Intelligence when a male voice called out.

“Y/N? Y/F/N Y/L/N?” You froze, that voice immediately sending anxiety through you like a bucket of cold water. You slowly turned around and found a man trying to stand up from a bench, but was handcuffed to it. He looked exactly the same as he did when you were 8, exactly from when you would see him in your nightmares after moving in with the Voights. His hair was matted and looked unwashed, his eyes red and teeth yellow, and even from how far you were from him, you could smell beer wafting off him. “It is you. Where’ve you been, girl?”

“Danny.” You said, trying to keep your cool. You could see that Trudy had picked up the phone and was whispering something into it, you only catching your name and “get here now”.

“Danny? What happened to dad, huh?”

“You stopped being my dad the minute I left that hellhole called a house.”

“Sorry darlin’, but that’s not how gen-et-tics works. You’re my kin and I will always be a part of you no matter who raises you.”

“Shut up.” You yelled. Others in the station were watching your interaction, you even heard the gate open at the top of the stair and figured that whoever was up at Intelligence came down to see what was wrong.

“Oh, don’t like that now do you? You can try and hide where you came from and clean yourself up, but you will always be Y/F/N Y/M/N Y/L/N, and you will follow in your families footsteps. You’ll either leave like that junkie-whore mama of yours, or you’ll end up like your dear-ol’-daddy.” He smirked as you started shaking, him noticing your reacting and smirking more, “You can’t run from what you’re made of.”

Just as he said that, Hank and Alvin Olinsky rushed into the building, Hank noticing you and turning to Danny who looked like he just won something. “Get him out of here.” Hank said, pointing to a patrolman near Danny. As the officer uncuffed Danny from the bench and recuffed his hands together, he started yelling.

“Ha! Now you got your crooked cop to come and save the day! Just like when you were a kid!” Danny started putting up a fight with the officer, trying to stay in the area, then turned to Hank, “You can take her and gussy her up, but trash is still trash.”

“Get him out of here!!” Hank yelled again, and two more officers ran over and finally took Danny out of the space. You were still staring at where he was when you felt a hand on your arm and harshly flinched.

It was just Hank, and he frown at your reaction to him, not seeing that happen since you first came to live with him and Camille. “Hey, lets go upstairs.”

You nodded, and the two of you walk up to the Intelligence Unit, you can feel the people downstairs all watching after that spectacle. Once you were both safely in Hank’s office, you both sat down in the chairs in front of his desk, Hank’s eyes still on you as you avoid his.

“Why aren’t you at the firehouse?”

“After what just happened, you won’t believe me if I told you.”

After a few seconds of silence, you finally looked up at your dad, and he gave you a look you remember a lot from your childhood with him. It basically said, ‘try me’, which made you sigh and rub your hands over your face.

“This woman came to the house asking for me, Carla Jennings, and ended up telling me that she was my mother. My biological mother.” You explain. Hank looked shocked, him never even knowing your bio mom. “I wanted to come see you so Chief Boden gave me a couple of days to get my head straight. And then that happened.”

“Yeah, Trudy said he was arrested on a DUI that almost killed a little girl.”

“Jesus Christ.”

You sighed, hating that you came from him in the first place. You dropped you head into your hands as the information sunk in.

“Hey,” Hank said, putting a hand on your back and rubbing soothing circles, happy that he didn’t have to see you flinch because of him again, “Don’t you dare listen to his words.”

“Isn’t he right though? I was lucky to get out of that hell of a home because of you, but his and that woman’s genes are in me. Its a matter of time before I screw everything up.”

“Genetics don’t mean shit. Hey, look at me,” You looked up and he had a determined look in his eye, “You may have came from them, but their mistakes don’t rule over what you will do. Look what you have done without them here; you graduated top of your class in high school, and then again when you graduated from the Fire Academy. You showed all those sexists bastards that you are just as good, if not better, than any man on that truck, and now there is word that you might be up for a promotion to squad?”

“What?” You said, shocked with the information.

“Boden called me last week saying that you had been taking the classes needed to get on rescue squad? And because you are amazing and smart and strong, there was word from the higher ups that you might get that open spot on Squad 3 as the first woman in the Chicago Fire Department history to be admitted to rescue squad.” Hank explained. You started to smile as some tears escaped out of a mix of happiness, confusion and some residual feelings from what had happened earlier today. “They’re just finalizing some things but they’re going to announce it at the Fireman’s Ball later this month.”

“Oh my god.”

“And you did that all without them. They had no say on these things, and they will not have say on the rest of your life.” Hank said, pulling you into a hug. The two of you hugged for a while, your tears subsiding as you basked in the feeling of love you were getting from your dad.

“Thanks dad.” You said as you finally pulled away. He smiled and patted the top of your head, sneaking a kiss into your hairline while he was at it. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Goose. Taking you in was the best decision I ever made.” He said, making you smile wider than you were before. A beat of silence passed before there was a knock on the door and Alvin came in, his eyes bouncing from you to Hank in worry.

“Everything okay in here?”

“Yeah, I’m okay. Thanks Uncle Alvin.”

“Yeah, no problem kid.” He said, smiling at you and messing up your hair before turning back to Hank, “Ander’s girlfriend was picked up, she’s in interrogation.”

“Okay, I’ll be there in a minute.” Hank said, turning back to you as Alvin leaves.

You turn back to your dad and smile, “Can I stay in here? I kind of don’t want to go back to my apartment right now just in case that Carla woman knows where I live.”

“Yeah, take a nap on the couch in you want. We’re winding down with this case so when we’re done, you and me can go grab some dinner and we can talk about getting a restraining order on this lady.” Hank said. You were about to argue but you knew he was right. So you you nodded as Hank stood up and left one last kiss on your head before heading out of his office. “I love you.”

“I love you too. Be careful.”

Hank turned just as he was passed the doorway and smirked, “I’m always careful.”

“Oh-kay.” You said, sarcasm in your voice as you could hear your dad chuckle then head towards the interrogation rooms.

TAGS: @l4life @ithoughtiwasflying

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alpacaparkaseok · 3 years

Text

Working Overtime

requested by @thecaffeinatedscribbles - thanks for requesting! a picture of your request will be at the bottom of the post!

Pairing: BTS x reader

Premise: A freak storm forces the biggest band on the planet to spend the evening seeking shelter at your small cafe. Of course, you can't complain about having to work overtime.

"...remain indoors for the rest of the evening....further notice....stay safe everyone!"

You can't help but groan, the sentiment clearly reciprocated by Benny, the cook at the small cafe you work at. The two of you came to work expecting to be kept inside for a while - just because a storm was brewing didn't mean you got a free day. Chances were that customers might decide that the best way to spend the hurricane-like day would be at their favorite restaurant.

Well, their favorite clearly isn't this one. The cafe is completely barren, leaving both you and Benny to lounge around. Just waiting for the storm to pass.

Benny dug up an ancient radio from the supply closet, and spent thirty minutes tuning it before finding a station. The two of you have taken up two stools at the front counter, head down on the table while the staticky radio picks up every other sentence. "Well Bill, it looks like...that's right, Sharon, I was thinking the same-"

You'll never get to find out just what it was that Sharon and Bill were thinking about, because suddenly the front door flies open, nearly tearing itself off its hinges.

Both you and Benny turn around in shock, nearly slipping off your chair as you get a look at whoever these strange newcomers are.

It takes a few moments before they all file in - there's seven of them - and slip their hoods back.

It takes another moment before they manage to get their hair out of their face enough to actually identify them.

"I'm so sorry about that," Kim Taehyung apologizes as he throws his body against the door so that it will close properly. "We just saw that you guys were open-"

"Nobody else is open on this entire block," Park Jimin finishes, currently struggling to brush his fingers through his hair like he usually does. It's a bit more difficult now that it's been through such a windy atmosphere.

You and Benny exchange a look, clearly at a loss for words at the strange development. Together, the two of you let out a wry laugh.

"What are you boys doing out right now?" Benny asks, rising from his seat and motioning for them to hang their coats on the coat rack.

Everyone immediately turns to look at Jungkook, who's cheeks turn a little red even as he laughs.

"Someone wanted to see how windy is was," Seokjin drawls, glaring daggers at the youngest member of the group.

"And you willingly agreed!" Jungkook defends, pulling a laugh from you.

Huh.

They're just like the other boys you've met.

Silly. Irrational. Blindingly beautiful.

"Could we get you anything to eat?" You ask, slipping into waitress mode. "It sounds like you might have to be here for a while," you tap the radio, scrunching up your nose as a bit of dust flies up.

The boys settle down in the middle of cafe, pulling a few tables together. You place some menus before them, marveling at how they seem to bicker like your family.

They place their orders - enough to feed a small army, which, you suppose they are. You head back into the kitchen, prepared to help Benny with the order. However, you're a little surprised to see Seokjin and Yoongi trailing you, with a nervous Jungkook behind them.

"Oh, did you want something else?" You ask, smiling brightly. The two oldest members of the group chew on their lips, sparing the maknae a glare.

"Actually," Yoongi begins, his cheeks reddening, "Is it alright if we help with the order?"

You blink, unsure of what to say. "...what?"

Jungkook jumps into the conversation like an excited puppy. "Well, it's just that it's going to be a lot of food and it's just the two of you..."

"We're bored." Seokjin injects, laughing to himself. "Let us help you?"

Shrugging and praying that your boss won't decide to fire you over it, you lead them back into the kitchen. Benny grins when he sees the four of you.

"Come to learn from the best?" He boasts, his round belly proof of his amazing cooking skills. "Grab an apron, wash your hands. Prepare to learn, boys."

You cackle as the three highly successful (and blindingly beautiful) idols follow Benny's instructions, chattering excitedly between each other.

It only takes a couple of minutes before the rest of the group appear at the doorway to the kitchen, watching on with curiosity.

"Care to join?" Benny invites. You stand off to the side watching with endless amusement.

Taehyung joins in with glee, while Namjoon, Hoseok, and Jimin hang back. They look to you hesitantly.

"Could we actually help you bring the dishes out?" Hoseok asks timidly.

You smile. This has got to be the best shift ever.

"Yeah, if you want to. Want to come watch the kitchen go up in flames with me?" Jimin bursts out into a fit of laughter, pointing at you with pride on his face. "Oh, she's funny!” He walks over to you, leaning against the counter.

Namjoon and Hoseok follow suit a moment later, giving you kind smiles as they take up the spot next to Jimin.

“We’re so happy you guys were open,” Hoseok comments, watching with a bit of apprehension as Jungkook tries to copy Benny’s movements. “I seriously thought we were going to die out there or something.”

“Agh you’re so dramatic hyung,” Jimin says, rolling his eyes. “But it is pretty bad out there. When do you think it’ll end?”

You shrug, stifling a laugh at Yoongi’s expression of long-suffering as he fields Taehyung’s questions.

“I’m not sure...probably not for another couple of hours, though. It’s going to be a mess trying to get home I bet.”

“Mmm.” Namjoon leans forward so he can see you properly. “Care to eat with us when the food’s done?”

Try as you might, you still end up blushing. “That’s alright, I don’t want to intrude on your meal-”

“I’m already making your food!” Jungkook shouts from where he stands watch before the oven. “Or...Jin is, I guess. But I’m making sure it doesn’t boil over!”

You give a shocked laugh, dropping your head in your hands. “I guess I will, then.”

Together, the four of you watching from the sidelines being to commentate every move that’s made within the kitchen.

“Oh, that was a bad move Yoongi,” Jimin chides.

“Shut up,” Yoongi responds, not even looking over.

Jin nearly drops a potato, earning quite the reaction from you. “Kim Seokjin, if you drop that potato so help me!”

Everyone in the room pauses for a moment, Jin looking over at you with wide eyes. A moment later, they all dissolve into a fit of laughter, Jin making a show of setting the potato down with car.

“Better?” He asks. You nod.

“Much better, thank you.”

In the matter of an hour, you’ve made yourself completely at home with these complete strangers. Benny begins making more food, getting overly-excited at having willing students. Time drags on, and eventually you all ditch the idea of eating out at the tables, opting to hop up on the bar and watch the chaos unfold.

“How long have you worked here?” Jungkook asks with a mouth full of food. He ditched the kitchen a few minutes prior, deciding that it would be better to eat than learn. Hoseok replaced his presence in the kitchen.

You blow on your soup before taking a bite. “Umm...a couple of years? It’s been a good college job, I think.”

They nod along, watching at Jin wanders over. He makes a show of looking exhausted, leaning up against the opposite counter. “Is the food good?”

“Delicious,” Namjoon says.

“What do you want to do when you make it out of here?” Jimin asks.

You frown, looking down at the counter. “I...I actually really love graphic design. I don’t know, I just think it’s the coolest thing ever. There’s so much that could be done with it, too.”

When you look back up again, you find Namjoon and Jimin locked in a silent conversation. A second later, they look back to you with smiles.

“What?”

Jimin shrugs. “Nothing. Graphic design is cool, don’t you think, hyung?”

Jin nods weakly, eyeing your soup. You take the hint, blowing on the spoonful you have. “Want to try it?”

He looks at you a little sheepishly. “Can I? Is that too weird?” You shrug your shoulders.

“It’s a weird day. Might as well go for it.”

That’s all the motivation he needs.

The storm doesn’t let up for a long while, but you’re kept busy with the boys. They all take turns in the kitchen except for Namjoon, who claims that he’d be more harm than help.

Together with Namjoon and Taehyung, you turn up the volume on the radio. The static makes it hard to understand, but you hear enough.

“subsided for now...remain cautious, but the worst is over.”

You let out a shout of excitement, pounding the table. Taehyung jumps a bit, laughing. “I think the storm is ending!”

Benny hardly hears you, but the boys do. They also shout with you, except for Namjoon who suddenly receives a phone call. He’s on the call for all of thirty seconds before it ends.

“Hey guys, that was Sejin...we need to head out.”

You frown, but try not to let it get to you. “Thanks for hanging out with Benny and I.”

The boys each take their leave, thanking you and Benny profusely. Jungkook hops on his feet as Benny fills a couple of takeout boxes for him. They quickly exchange numbers with the two of you, vowing to return soon.

“We’ll just put you in our group chat, alright?” Hoseok says, typing away at his phone.

“How much do we owe you?” Yoongi asks, grabbing his wallet from his back pocket. Both you and Benny immediately wave them off.

“Nothing,” Benny declares. “Thank you for keeping us company. That was enough.”

“Really, let us pay you-”

“You guys need to get going,” you interrupt, smiling at Yoongi. “Really, don’t worry about it.”

They leave, grumbling the entire way. Once the door has closed behind them, you and Benny exchange looks.

“That was...”

“Freaking awesome,” Benny finishes for you. You chuckle.

“Yeah, it was.” Sighing, you slip off of the bar. “I’ll put the chairs up and then come help you clean up.”

Benny waves you off. “I don’t have much to clean, Hobi did most of it.”

“Oh-ho, you even call him ‘Hobi’!” Heading into the dining area, you go toward the table that the boys were originally going to sit at. Something catches your eye before you can put the chairs up.

“Benny!” You shout, hands shaking a little as you grab the paper.

It’s a note, hastily written but legible.

Thank you for the meal and new friendship - please confirm the Venmo request we send to you. All the best: Bangtannies

Almost as though timed, both your and Benny’s phones chime. You gawk at the ridiculous amount of money, but you nearly burst into tears at the text message that follows it.

Bangtan: This is the number of the head of graphic design at Bighit. They’ll be in contact with you within the next couple of days - keep a lookout for it!

masterlist

#bts x reader #bts x y/n #bts oneshot #bts fluff #jimin fluff #Jungkook fluff #Taehyung fluff #Namjoon fluff #jin fluff #Yoongi fluff #hobi fluff #bts fanfic #bts imagine #bts cafe imagine

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marveldc-imagines-hub · 3 years

Text

Subtitles: Episode 2, Don’t Touch That Dial

Subtitles Masterlist

Summary: A nondescript amount of time has passed since [Y/N] has met the Maximoff couple and the trio has since then gotten better settled in Westview, although none of them have yet to make the best impressions with their neighbors. [Y/N], Vision, and Wanda have found friends and confidants in each other when they haven’t much elsewhere but [Y/N]’s crush remains, begging the question, ‘Is there anything more to come?’ Meanwhile, the people of the cul-de-sac are planning a talent show and the atmosphere in Westview appears to be shifting. Follow along as the happy little world of Westview begins fraying at the seams while strange happenings occur and an unseen power desperately seeks to stitch it back together…

Word count: 13,766

Warnings: This one’s even longer. Fluff, sappy rom-com vibes, more possible second-hand embarrassment. It’s just as weird as the episode.

Tag List: @madamevirgo

~~~

“[Y/N], hon. I really think you should cool it on the coffee for the rest of the day.”

It’s possible that Agnes was right. The tiredness that was caused by a windy, sleepless night has recently been replaced by chaotic, synthetic energy that had your eyes wide and hands shaking slightly. You were on your fourth cup now, which you’d brought with you from the diner you and Agnes had had breakfast at. The two of you were going to pick up Wanda and go over to Dottie’s for actual breakfast—well, brunch—but you both had rocky relationships with the queen of the neighborhood and needed to mentally prepare. You had been up for a better part of the last night due to bushes and tree branches rattling against your windows, not to mention all your previous encounters with Dottie have been disastrous; you needed the caffeinated courage. Agnes just wanted to have something on her stomach beforehand so the alcohol hidden away in her handbag would sit better.

You hummed around your mouthful of coffee in response to Agnes’s mild worrying. You swallowed, then threw back the last of the no longer hot beverage and scurried over to a random trash can to toss the cup away. “There, see? All done. All nifty.” Just as an extra bit of proof, you gave her some jazz hands and shimmied as you walked back over to link your arm with hers.

Agnes tried to hold down a smirk but broke into a laugh when the shimmying started. “You look as jittery as a squirrel.”

“Not as fluffy as a bunny?” you asked with a wide-eyed pout, then reached over to poke a finger in the cage that your companion held; the rabbit inside, Agnes’s pet, immediately offered his head to be scratched. “Señor Scratchy, more like Mr. Cutie Patootie.”

“Fluffy too, of course,” Agnes offered, giving your curled updo a ruffle. “In a good mood too, which I suppose isn’t a bad thing. With Dottie around, we’ll need it.”

You almost cracked a grin but then thought about how you’d feel hearing someone say that about you and felt somewhat sad. Luckily, you found a quick reason to grin anyway as Wanda’s house came into view up ahead—

Only for the grin to turn into a look of confusion as a buzzing suddenly started in your ear.

You stopped cold, cocking your head as you strained to listen. The buzzing sounded almost like a lawnmower but coming from the sky—a helicopter, perhaps, but there was something off about it like it was happening inside your head—and the sound grew louder until it stopped with a sudden bang, making you jump.

“[Y/N]?” Agnes’s voice called. “[Y/N], are you alright?”

Drawn back to your surroundings, you felt a cold sweat on your back and noticed your hands had become clammy; the hair on your neck and arms stood straight up and your body felt suddenly achy, almost have you had come down with a cold out of the blue. You looked at Agnes with wide eyes and saw her staring at you, concerned with both arms gripping your sleeve.

It took you several moments to recover and when you did, you asked, “Did you hear that?”

Agnes looked at you incredulously, shaking her head just slightly. “Hear what?”

She hadn’t heard it? You felt like the strange sounds had happened right next to you.

The woman at your side continued, “I didn’t hear anything at all, except for Wanda coming outside. Then you just stopped walking and stood there, I couldn’t even budge you.”

Agnes nodded in the direction in Wanda’s direction and you looked that way. Wanda was indeed outside now, though she hadn’t seemed to notice you two coming up the sidewalk yet. Instead, she was looking down in the bushes near her fence, seemingly distressed. You followed her gaze and saw something glittering in the sunlight there.

“Well,” Agnes said loudly, officially snapping you out of your daze, “you seem fine now, at least. I told you all that caffeine was going to make you go looney!” She picked up the rabbit cage she apparently put down while you were… doing whatever it had been that you were doing, then kept walking as if nothing had happened.

You watched her for a moment before following. Then you noticed Wanda lean over and pick up whatever it was she was looking at but you couldn’t see what it was as Agnes obscured most of the view. You could, however, see Wanda’s distraught expression and it made you want to run and make sure she was okay; you noted that Agnes still had no reaction, though, and decided perhaps all that caffeine was the actual cause of all these weird feelings.

You felt the familiar pang of a headache as you and Agnes got closer.

“Look, it’s the star of the show!” Agnes chirped, leaning against the fence bordering the Maximoff lawn. You saw Wanda gasp and drop the thing back into the bushes but Agnes just grinned.

“Agnes!” Wanda replied in a way that seemed a little strained. She leaned over and covered the bush with an arm. “I’m sorry, what did you say?” Then she noticed you, still a little ways behind Agnes, and the tension in her shoulders seemed to relax slightly. “And [Y/N]!”

You gave her a sheepish wave, still trying to recollect yourself. The faint headache was still there, getting a bit stronger whenever your eyes or thoughts drifted to the object Wanda was obviously trying to hide. At least you weren’t sweaty and clammy anymore, though. Not that that would matter. It’s not like you would be holding anybody’s hand on the way to Dottie’s.

You wouldn’t mind doing so if it happened to happen though.

Stop, you chided yourself, Bad. No holding hands with Wanda.

Unless you hold hands with both her and her husband, your brain decided to think on its own, which is totally cool too.

No, you chided your brain this time, no holding hands with married couples.

Fine, your brain conceded. Then after a moment, Just kiss them instead.

No!

Good god, that had been too much coffee.

You shook your head slightly and watched and Agnes handed Señor Scratchy over to Wanda who headed back to the house with him, though you hadn’t been paying attention to what they were saying prior.

“...he played baby Jesus in last year’s Christmas pageant!” Agnes was saying, to which Wanda looked over her shoulder and answered, “Ah!”

Then Agnes looked over her shoulder, and yours, and said, “Oh, morning, Dennis!”

You side-stepped to let the man pass and took the advantage to move to Agnes’s other side as she chatted the mailman up. You couldn’t help laughing a bit as she made finger guns at him and told him to stick ‘em up.

“Ho,” Dennis responded, putting his hands up momentarily and smiling, “Don’t shoot, I’m just the messenger.”

“Pew pew!” Agnes sounded, waggling her “guns” at him.

You offered your own, less theatrical greeting to Dennis as he walked by, then leaned over and bumped hips with Agnes when you caught her watching him walk away.

“Please tell me you’re not having an affair with the mailman,” you said.

Agnes choked, then threw back her head and did what you could only describe as a cackle. “What? Heavens no!”

“Good,” you replied, then slid a bit closer. Shimmying your shoulders at her, you teased, “Because I’m the only one you need.”

Agnes snorted and swatted you over the head but she was smiling. “You bird dog, get out of here. I’m married!”

“And I will duel your husband at dawn,” you cried, “I am the only one who gets to fight bar stools for the lady’s affections!”

The two of you chortled and separated as Wanda came walking out of the house and back towards you. She looked rather lovely in the pants and cardigan combo that she wore; you also quite liked the pattern of her shirt.

She looked between the two of you—you felt like her eyes settled on you for just a second longer but that was probably the caffeine too—and as she got closer said, “Shall we?”

“Oh, we shall,” Agnes replied, stepping back from leaning on the fence and offering Wanda her arm.

You saw Wanda glance back at the bushes and she linked her arm with Agnes’s and before you could think about your headache and stop yourself, you followed her gaze. You were now standing on the other side of the fence of the bushes that Wanda had tried to hide the object she’d found in and with a quick peer, you could make out a toy helicopter within the branches.

There was something very off about the helicopter, as there had been about the sound earlier. Looking at it was like the effects of one of your worse migraines but without the intense pain. Time appeared to slow way down and your head somehow felt like it was both floating and behind crushed at the same time. When you tried to look around it was like you were moving outside of your body, as if you had turned around to look at your own house across the street and yet hadn’t moved at all. Images of Wanda and Agnes’s faces, the Maximoff house and your own, faces and places that you didn’t quite recognize, the helicopter all floated through your line of vision, mushing together or overlaying on top of each other, and you couldn’t be sure whether you were actually looking around or if you had closed your eyes and this was all happening behind your eyelids.

After what seemed like a century but you were sure was only a very slow second, the helicopter came into focus again, and you felt like you were gasping or squinting or both, but without actually doing either. The toy had a very bizarre color scheme as if the colors didn’t exist in this realm of existence; you couldn’t quite place the names of them no matter how hard you tried. The helicopter’s bright colors—almost too bright to you; it felt like looking at the sun but you couldn’t look away—appeared to turn the entire world around you to shades of gray, including yourself. Yet again, you felt like you moved without actually doing so as you raised your hand, a shade of gray instead of your skin tone. Looking further, your entire outfit wasn’t the combination of your two favorite colors that you thought it was but a variety of grays, as well as the sidewalk you stood on and the fence and bushes you stood next to.

Your gaze settled on the toy helicopter again even though you were pretty sure you’d never actually looked away.

Blood? The helicopter was the color of blood and sand, with a touch of the color you suddenly hated with every fiber of your being, shimmery gray.

Then there was a sound like a thunderclap happening directly inside your head and everything was back to normal.

Wanda has just finished linking arms with Agnes and the girls were stepping to one side so you could join their line. Looking at Wanda’s smile directed at Agnes, and Agnes’s scheming look directed at you, the world didn’t seem so out of sorts anymore. You felt both very solid and like you needed to steady yourself but you didn’t have time for the latter and instead, you stepped forward, seeming much more confident than you felt, to link arms with Agnes.

Agnes, with her scheming look, clearly had other ideas. She suddenly stepped off the curb, jerking herself and Wanda to the side, not only blocking the way you were walking but pulling Wanda directly in front of you. Agnes herself settled easily but Wanda, who had no idea what just happened, stumbled and tripped; she tried to catch herself on Agnes’s arm she held, only to find it was no longer there and ended up falling backward.

Your arms shot out reflexively and caught her around the waist. Wanda, in response, reached behind her and braced herself by throwing one arm around your shoulders while the other caught one of your wrists and twisting in such a way that caused her to turn towards you and kick one leg up so she could steady herself on the other. The result was an almost picture-perfect dip, with you cradling Wanda’s upper body in your arms, her embracing you, and the two of you staring at each other in pure shock.

Then there was Agnes, standing next to the curb and brushing out a crease in her dress, looking oh so pleased with herself.

A deep blush bloomed across your face as you looked down at the woman—the very married and greatly loved by her husband woman—and your outsides and insides had the same idea of wanting to curl in on themselves and… either scream in joy or die, you couldn’t be sure. Still, you couldn’t bring yourself to let go of Wanda right away; along with the longing you often felt when seeing either her or her husband, though it was multiplied by infinity in the current moment, you felt a sudden fierce protectiveness over her come almost out of nowhere. You wanted Wanda Maximoff to be as happy and as safe as could be and it felt like if you let her go any moment before she was properly standing and solid on her feet that something very bad would happen like she would tip and fall and shatter into a million pieces.

Holding her was just very nice in general too.

You felt your fingers twitch at her waist and it drew you back out of your head. You noticed Wanda hadn’t yet pulled away either or moved in general, and you felt like you were going to spontaneously combust when you focused back on the face looking up at you.

Although she couldn’t possibly as red as you were, Wanda was flushed from her neck to the tips of her ears—she had the prettiest blushing face you’d ever seen, you were sure of it—and she was looking up at you from under her lashes, the expression on her face a mix of surprise and embarrassment and something softer than you couldn’t quite place. You felt her arm, warm and strong against the back of your shoulders, and her hands still tightly gripping your shoulder and wrist. For a moment, you felt the hand on your shoulder lightly knead the fabric of your jacket, as if testing something, before her entire grip on you loosened.

“Um,” she started, her voice sounding as dry as your throat felt, “thank you. For catching me.”

“Happy to help,” you croaked, then mentally kicked yourself and cleared your throat; the slight smile that appeared on Wanda’s lips wasn’t lost on you, though.

“Oh, lovebirds,” Agnes hollered over her shoulder as she walked ahead of you and Wanda, “the Queen of the Cul de Sac will order off with our heads if we don’t hurry!”

I had no idea that the devil wears plaid, you thought. Then you weren’t how long you and Wanda had been standing like that, or who had seen, and you were panicking.

You thought that maybe the two of you might scramble away from each other but it was quite the opposite. Wanda lowered the leg she still had raised and in one fluid motion, Wanda was back standing upright; in another, you twirled her around to your side and linked arms with her, and then the two of you were hustling after Agnes, who stopped and waited with her arm out so that you could link up with her too.

It was like something out of an old rom-com movie. Except it was a rom-com movie where the main character fancied both the love interest and her husband, something far too farfetched to end happily.

“Dottie can’t possibly be as bad as you say,” Wanda said. She looked from Agnes to you and you gave her a sympathetic look.

“Well, you’ll notice her roses bloom under penalty of death,” Agnes affirmed as the three of you made it to the outskirts of Queen Dottie’s castle and paused there. “If you don’t believe me, ask [Y/N].”

Wanda’s eyebrows raised.

You sighed. “The first day of meeting her I spilled wine on her dress and now I’m ninety percent sure that she thinks I want her dead. She also very much dislikes the idea of a lone stray cat living in her neighborhood.” You unlinked your arms with the ladies to gesture at yourself. “I was getting home late from work one night and she saw me, stepped outside to make sure I wasn’t going to dig through her trash bins.”

“Oh,” Wanda said with a grimace, “goodness.”

“I’m sure you’ll do fine, though,” you added quickly, “You’re lovely; I can’t imagine anyone not loving you.”

Agnes rolled her eyes while you blushed and scratched your neck. You could already see her gearing up for a pre-Dottie tutoring session.

And then she started with a look-over of Wanda’s outfit. “Wanda—”

“Hm?”

“—can I give you a bit of friendly advice?” Wanda must have caught the look too because she glanced over her outfit, the outfit you quite liked. Raising a hand to her chest, she asked, “Is it about the way I’m dressed?”

“Yes, but it’s too late for that.”

You scowled as worry bloomed on Wanda’s face. Unfortunately, you yourself had to learn how important dress was at these social events. You’d expected it to be just a gathering of friendly neighbors but it’s much more like a secret society and you had to look just right to fit it. Now you regretted not telling her sooner; you’d failed your first and only attempt at making a good impression so were content wearing whatever you wanted for the most part but Wanda definitely deserve the poor treatment she was going to get.

“Dottie is the key to everything in this town,” Agnes continued, unphased. “Country club memberships.”

Something you didn’t have.

“Parties.”

Something you didn’t go to.

“School admissions.”

Something you didn’t have to worry about any time soon but the way Agnes’s gaze drifted towards Wanda’s stomach made you wonder if the Maximoffs did. The thought made your stomach churn but you couldn’t figure out why.

“Well let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Wanda interjected with a smile and roll of her eyes. She happened to look your way and you thought the smile softened with her gaze just a tad.

You relaxed your shoulders.

Agnes trudged on. “You get in with Dottie and it’ll be smooth sailing from here on out. Just mind your P’s and Q’s and you’re gonna do just fine.”

“Or maybe I could just be myself, more or less.”

“I quite like that idea,” you offered. A wide-eyed glance from Agnes went unnoticed as you were too focused on the smile Wanda definitely gave you that time.

“Oh, Wanda, [Y/N]” Agnes said with a laugh, “that’s good.”

Wanda’s excitement for the event today seemed to lessen and you, apparently still high off the moment you thought you two had, gave her arm a gentle squeeze and an encouraging look.

She didn’t seem to mind. In fact, she gave you an appreciative glance and pat on the hand. Your and her hands lingered for perhaps a second or two too long before they dropped back to your sides.

And then the queen and her merry homemakers sauntered their way out the front door.

“Everybody, hurry up please!” Dottie sang over her shoulder as she quickly walked down the front steps, followed by a line of housewives carrying various covered dishes.

Agnes twisted to look her way and waved. “Hiya, Dottie, your roses are divine!”

Both you and Wanda offered a polite wave as Dottie thanked Agnes, although she didn’t stop to chat. Her eyes did do a scan of your trio, though, and you felt your ears burn when a distasteful look was sent your way.

Agnes gave you a sympathetic smile and Wanda a look that said “Good luck; you’ll need it!” before sliding her arms under one of each of Wanda’s and yours and tugging the two of you along.

Your eyes wandered as one of the wives, Bev, talked animatedly about the setup for the talent show happening this weekend. Bored and feeling out of place, you looked over the group of women sitting a circle underneath the canopy tent by Dottie’s pool, purposely excluding Dottie and the woman talking, then the man jumping into said pool, then the man cleaning said pool.

You shouldn’t be here. This gathering really was a secret society of women of the neighborhood—not only women but wives in particular—to discuss homely and neighborhood business matters; you weren’t a wife and after screwing up with Dottie, you certainly weren’t involved in any of the other important business, nor did you have any interesting household gossip since you lived alone. The main you were here was because while out of place, you got along more decently with the wives than the husbands and when you’d first moved to town, Agnes thought you would be entertaining company to keep. She’d immediately hung you out to dry by telling her fellow women about you calling out their husbands’ poor attempts at comedy, which amused some of them enough to welcome you; in fact, Dottie had been one of those people, impressed by your initiative if nothing else, until you ruined your chances by ruining her dress. At the current meeting, you’d been specifically invited only because you were taking part in the talent show performance, which had also happened because Agnes heard you singing while doing garden work one day and somewhat strong-armed you in.

Your bored eyes eventually settled on watching Wanda, who sat a couple of chairs away on the other side of your mutual companion, and you were no longer bored. While you watched Wanda, she was watching Dottie like a hawk, awkwardly but cutely trying to mimic everything the other woman was doing. She stopped when Dottie started speaking, gripping the cup she was holding a lifeline and you chuckled moments before catty laughter erupted around you. You hadn’t heard what caused it, so you decided to tune back in.

“The devil’s in the details, Bev,” Dottie criticized, masking disdain with the lightness of her voice.

You heard Agnes mutter to Wanda, “That’s not the only place he is.” You couldn’t help but snicker.

Dottie was standing now and continued on, “As you all know, the talent show is the sole fundraiser for Westview Elementary…”

Agnes passed a flask to Bev with a cheeky grin as she sat down next to you and after taking a sip, Bev offered it to you. You didn’t have to think twice before snagging a drink of your own and handing it back over to its home.

“I hear you’re singing,” Bev chirped quietly to you, “For the talent show? I bet you’re a lovely singer, can’t wait to hear it.”

You blushed slightly and thanked her but didn’t say much more to avoid Dottie’s wrath.

The wrath that Wanda and her current companion, a woman with dark skin who looked oddly familiar but whose name you couldn’t place, weren’t able to avoid themselves, apparently.

“We only have a few hours until showtime,” Dottie said, “so a little less cross-chatter and a little more focus.”

As Dottie prattled on, you observed the two women curiously.

“...is for the children,” Dottie finished.

“For the children,” the other women echoed.

“For the children,” Wanda added after everyone else had already spoken, earning several displeased looks.

You didn’t bother to say anything, opting to take Agnes’s flask and have another sip.

“So, I want you all to give yourselves a big hand—”

Wanda, looking petrified, stopped in the middle of taking a bite of a cookie and started clapping. You hid your laugh behind a hand; she still had an entire cookie hanging from her mouth.

“—at the appropriate time, of course,” Dottie chastised, then continued on yet again.

Oh, darling Wanda, you thought with a grin, you poor, sweet thing, you. You rested your chin in your hand and watched as she made herself proper until Bev nudged you to take your elbow off the table. You huffed slightly but did so anyway, then tried to catch Wanda’s eye for a moment of solidarity, only to see her talking to the dark-skinned woman again.

Your gaze shifted from Wanda to the other woman and your brows furrowed. You swore you knew her from somewhere though try as you might, you just couldn’t place that face, those eyes, that awkward but friendly smile. Perhaps another newcomer to the area that you’ve seen t on the streets or at a shop? You couldn’t imagine where she moved into, though, as you were sure the last two open houses had been the ones occupied by you and Wanda and Vision.

You felt a sharp pang in your temple and grunted softly. You weren’t about to have an episode here of all places, so you quickly looked away and put the thoughts aside.

Just as Wanda and the stranger shook hands over their table. Uh-oh.

“I’m Wanda.”

“I’m, uh, Geraldine!”

“And I’m irritated!”

After getting scolded by Dottie a second time, Wanda locked her jaw and resigned to sitting in her seat with her hands tucked in her lap. She finally looked over at you with helplessness in her eyes.

You responded with a mouthed “I told you so” and a wink, then silently told her that you’d talk to her after the meeting.

A comforting face seemed to be what she needed because she relaxed again, though not completely. She settled in for the rest of the meeting and, finishing off Agnes’s flask, so did you.

After the meeting was over, Dottie asked Wanda to sit back and help her clean up, which you knew meant Dottie doing nothing but being condescending while Wanda did all the work. While Agnes tried to get you to walk her home and then warned you against your plan, you were adamant about staying back and making sure Wanda got through the rest of her first Dottie encounter in one piece. At this point, you knew fitting in and having people’s positive opinions was important to Wanda; you oftentimes felt like that yourself. Unfortunately, Dottie wasn’t the type of person to give out positive opinions easily—you had to earn it, which was hard enough without accidentally interrupting the main meeting multiple times—and that protective feeling for Wanda that had come out of nowhere earlier today still hadn’t faded. You knew Wanda Maximoff of all people didn’t necessarily need you but you wanted to stick around, just in case she did.

Maybe you were hoping that she would.

That and you couldn’t help but take one last shot at getting on Dottie’s good side.

“...and that is why you never do a seating chart on an empty stomach,” Dottie was finishing from her perch on the edge of a pool chair.

Wanda walked over to where you stood organizing a cart of dirty dishes so they didn’t all come tumbling down when whichever pretty busboy that Dottie paid finally came to take it away. She was huffing, carrying over yet another pile of dirty plates on a large tray; you skirted around the dish cart and quickly came to her aid, taking as much as your hands could carry from off the top. She offered a grateful smile that you returned before you both unloaded onto the cart.

Who owned or even used this ungodly amount of dishes?

A person who paid various pretty people to just be around, you concluded a moment later.

As you continued to organize, Wanda turned back around to grab a pair of three-tiered dessert stands, both of which had a decent amount of desserts left on them. “Golly, you’re a wiz at all this committee stuff, Dottie. Thank you for choosing me to help you clean up today, I feel so lucky.”

“You are,” Dottie agreed.

Wanda turned back to you again and made a face, then stuck out her tongue. You choked down a laugh after catching Dottie’s steely gaze over Wanda’s shoulder, settling for a smile as you took the trays.

Dottie was just as displeased as you’d expected she’d be that you insisted to stay behind and help.

“I really should try to make amends before this is over, shouldn’t I?” Wanda muttered. She caught a few plates slipping from the top of a pile and rearranged them.

“If you manage to do so, you really would be a Westview miracle,” you replied, taking a cup Wanda managed to catch before it tipped off the cart. “But first, how about I make you look ten times better, hm?”

Wanda gave you a confused look but you just patted her hand before switching places with Wanda and going to grab another tray of dishes.

You put on your friendliest smile as you began stacking as many cups as you could balance in one arm. “Say, Dottie—”

“Be careful,” Dottie chimed back, “or at least let me get out of your way first. Wouldn’t want a repeat of our first meeting, hm?” She ended her sentence with a venom-laced laugh, then gave you a tight smile.

You were pretty sure your eye twitched but you carried on, chuckling with her, “No, I suppose not. I really do apologize about that but you really shouldn’t hold such grudges. Worrying so much causes early-set wrinkles, you know.”

Dottie’s smile tightened further. You heard Wanda gasp and choke from behind you.

“Anyway, though, I really would like to make it up to you some time. My boss’s wife gave me two tickets to a food tasting event in town next weekend. I thought it might be something nice to do, plus it might give you some ideas for catering during the next event—”

“My husband and I would love to go out next weekend, thank you so much. Feel free to drop the tickets in the mailbox the next time you come around.” Dottie paused, then added. “Mailbox, on the opposite side of the porch than the trash bins.”

Your eye definitely twitched, maybe even both of them. You feigned an appreciative look as you finished stacking your dishes, then scowled as soon as you turned around and walked back to Wanda.

“Now,” you grumbled, “I beg the sweet release of death to come in a more timely manner. Oh, and whatever you do can’t possibly be worse than me, although I’m sure that was the case either way.”

“You poor thing.” Was all Wanda could manage, giving your arm a squeeze. “Guess it’s my turn.”

“Good luck, darling,” you said, then almost immediately regretted it. You don’t know why you decided to fake a British accent, nor why you felt the need to call her darling, but you couldn’t take back either of them now.

Wanda blinked, then laughed— before it was cut off by Dottie telling you both to get back to work.

“It’s more dahrling, less dahling,” Wanda teased. “British people do still use R’s.”

“Fascinating.”

Wanda grinned, gave you a final pat on the arm, then turned around to take her shot with Dottie. “I can’t help but wonder if you and I haven’t gotten off on the wrong foot, Dottie, and I would like to correct that if I can.”

A much better approach than you, you noted with an impressed nod. You walked a little ways off to grab another cart to even out the load of dishes; the current one seemed to sag under the weight.

“And how would you do that?” Dottie asked and you heard the rustle of fabrics rubbing together as she stood. “I’ve heard things about you. You and your husband.”

You stopped from your place behind the canopy’s pulled-back curtain. What on earth could she be talking about?

Wanda has the same thought. “Well, I don’t know what… you’ve been told… but I assure you, I don’t mean anyone… any harm.”

Your brows knitted together and you shuffled around the canopy’s aluminum frame to hear a little better. You couldn’t imagine Wanda hurting anybody, not on purpose anyway.

A pang in your temple. A surge of that fierce protectiveness.

You poked your head out just slightly from behind the canopy. All you could see was Wanda’s back and Dottie’s determined expression from beyond Wanda’s shoulder, and the fact that they were standing very close together.

“I don’t believe you,” Dottie stated simply.

As if on cue, the radio on the table started acting up, the music cutting to static combined with a jumble of noises. Like many things today, though, it sounded strange, as if it was coming from all around you, or directly from inside your skull. It stopped almost immediately as it started and music, regular-sounding music, returned. Normal, you thought, until you focused harder, and noticed a voice creeping from the background. It continued to creep closer, get louder like a person walking towards you would, until it was as loud as the static had been and the music was no longer audible. Your head throbbed as the voice sounded like it was coming out of your brain instead of into your ears but you couldn’t anything other than tighten your grip on the canopy.

The voice said, “Wanda. Wanda. Who’s doing this to you, Wanda? Wanda. Wanda. Wan—”

The radio shorted out, there was the sound of the glass Dottie was shattered, and there was another thunderclap in your head as the world around briefly flared into color. Color, not shades of gray, but then the gray was back as quickly as it had left. You didn’t know whether Dottie or the bizarre radio’s frequencies had crushed the glass or whether it had just been dropped, but you were walking over with a cloth in hand before you’d even gotten your senses back in order.

“Dottie,” Wanda gasped, her eyes flitting about.

Dottie caught a glimpse of the overly saturated blood spreading out from the gash in her palm—and seemed only mildly annoyed.

Wanda kept making sounds like she was trying to speak but didn’t quite know how to. She spun around to grab something to press to the wound and almost ran into you. She stared at you, cloth in hand, with wide eyes filled with equal amounts of fear and surprise, like your existence had been completely forgotten until that moment. Then Wanda grabbed the cloth, and your hand in the process; she gave you a silent thank you, your hand a squeeze so tight you felt her fingernails dig into the skin, then turned back to Dottie and pressed the cloth to her bloody palm.

Dottie grabbed her hand and said, somehow completely aware of the situation and also seeming totally spaced out, “Pop quiz, Wanda: How does a housewife get a bloodstain out of white linen? By doing it herself.”

Then she smiled and walked into her house.

You and Wanda stood in silence and it was then that you realized you felt the same way you figured Dottie did, similar to how you felt earlier today when you saw the toy helicopter in Wanda’s yard. You felt light and spacey and almost dizzy but without the world spinning, almost like you were a mind outside of your body, or a consciousness inside of a body that wasn’t yours. Time didn’t slow but rather sped up; you didn’t know when you’d started walking to Wanda’s aid and you didn’t remember the feeling of ever grabbing the cloth that you’d given her, and the whole event seemed to have fixed itself as soon as it started with the end result being your mind painfully aware of something being wrong but your body refusing to act like anything was.

All you’d really felt was your head throbbing, not with pain but with pressure, and the desperate urge to help Wanda. Then you did and everything was over.

Wanda.

You repeated her name in the form of a question; it felt different this time. She didn’t respond or really even move aside from reaching back towards you. You rushed over and grasped her arm and she let out a choked gasp.

“[Y/N].” She said it as if trying it out for the first time. It took her a bit longer to pry her eyes away from the spot where Dottie had been, then she held a hand to her mouth and looked at you. “What just happened?”

“I’m… I’m not sure myself.”

It took a bit longer again for her to speak, her eyes darting from you to the door Dottie had disappeared to and back. “Would you walk me home? Please?”

“Of course, Wanda.”

The walk home was quiet. The two of you had your arms linked as you did on the walk over but now Wanda gripped your arm with her other hand too. Like at Dottie’s pool, it was almost eerily silent except for your and Wanda’s footsteps. Tou could have chalked it up to being because everyone was already in town setting up for the talent show, something about it had you glancing around ever so often, as though you could catch someone peering at you through the bushes or through the crack of a partially opened manhole at any moment.

When you got to Wanda’s door, you had a quick chat about the talent show—as if none of the day’s earlier events had happened; she was very excited to hear you sing—and then she headed up the steps to her door. You gave her a wave and turned to walk home.

“[Y/N]?”

You stopped and turned back around, eyebrows raised slightly.

Wanda walked the three steps back down from her door and gave you a hug. “Thank you for being around today.”

“‘Scuse me, coming through!”

Of course, you’d be late. Of course, you’d get home, start practicing for your performance, pass out on your couch, and wake up five minutes before the show started with a suit and dress combo to still pull on and a few instruments to properly secure in their trunk.

You weaved your way between folks who were either going to the talent show or trying to ignore it and stumbled your way upstairs to the backstage.

Wanda was standing there in a magician’s assistant costume that almost had you on your knees and begging for mercy before you remembered you had a show to do that you were also very late for. She and the Black woman she’d been talking to at Dottie’s meeting—Geraldine, Wanda had informed you later—spun on you with an expectant gasp, only to slump in disappointment when they saw it was you.

“Golly, thanks for the warm welcome,” you muttered, setting your trunk down and popping it open. “Suppose I deserve it for missing most of the show, though.”

“I’m so sorry, [Y/N],” Wanda said as she paced over, “You look fab and I’m sure your performance will be a blast—”

“If I’m still performing?” you asked, directing the question at Geraldine with a hopeful smile.

“If you’re ready before the husband gets here, you can take their place,” Geraldine offered, “If not, you can finish the show off.”

Finishing the talent show, not nerve-wracking at all.

“Vision’s not here?” You gave Wanda a questioning look as you walked past her to look

at yourself in a full-body mirror on the other side of the stage to make sure your look was still in order. The top half of your outfit was a full, simple, black and white tuxedo with a matching black fedora that slightly offset on top of your hair; one of Dottie’s white roses, which you acquired after stuffing her and her husband’s food taster tickets in her mailbox on your way into town, poked out from the hat’s band. The bottom half was a simple skirt—actually, the skirt and undershirt of your outfit was a dress that your mother had pieced together and sent you for your “big night”—that was fashionable for the time but in a sleek shade of black that matched the rest of your tuxedo and with a white band around the hem, paired with a sheer stocking of a plaid pattern and low-heeled shoes that you would return to the shop tomorrow. Finally, for a little touch of color and a little for pop, a golden bejeweled broach was pinned to a crimson pocket square poked out of the chest pocket of your tuxedo jacket, golden geometric earrings hung from your lobes, and a couple of bejeweled bracelets and rings in the same colors adorned your hands. You wore bright, unglossed lipstick and nail polish to match, despite that not being in fashion. Luckily everything still seemed in order.

Wanda gave an exaggerated shrug as you walked back over to your instrument trunk. “Nowhere to be found, like he vanished!”

As if summoned, Vision came wobbling around the corner and up the steps. Well, he almost did; it took him two tries to get up the steps without falling back down.

“Oh, is that him?” Geraldine asked, her face twisting into a look of concern. “Looks like he’s gots a little hitch in his giddyup. Whoa!”

You twisted around, ukulele in hand to check if it was tuned, just as Vision was making it upstairs the second time. You smiled, quirking an eyebrow, only to stumble as the British man threw his arm around you to steady himself.

“Wanda, my little cabbage, you look smashing!” Vision exclaimed, his words slurring together just slightly. He began swaying and decided to lean almost his full weight on you; when you grunted and moved the instrument you were holding out of the danger zone of getting smacked is when Vision appeared to notice that he was balancing against a person instead of the railing by the stairs. He leaned his face closer and squinted at you—now that you weren’t concerned about going onstage immediately, it was significantly easier to get flustered by Vision and his, yes, absolutely smashing wife—then grinned and said, “Why it’s [Y/N] too, and looking equally as ravishing!”

You tried to keep yourself in check. “Heya cool head, not your wife. That being said, I’d say you look smashing yourself but you just seem positively smashed.”

“Oh, I know,” Vision replied, “I already told her that she looked nice. You heard me right, honey?” He went from so close to your face that his bangs were getting in your eye to only a hand gripping your shoulder as he flung his limbs wide, which was apparently a necessary move to look at his wife’s face.

You gave Wanda a look that was equal parts worried and amused. The look she returned was just worried.

Wanda walked over to you and helped maneuver you out of Vision’s grip so you could continue tuning your ukulele—actually, it was Vision’s that you were borrowing—then tugged her husband so you were at least a couple feet out of reach. “Vis, where have you been?”

“Oh, uh… me and the boys were playing a rather thrilling game of horses and shoes,” Vision responded, talking in a way that sounded like he was trying to talk under his breath while still speaking at full volume. “No, wait, that’s not it. Shoe horses! Oh, hrn… Ah! Horse’s shoes!” He put two thumbs up and smiled lopsidedly, clearly pleased with himself.

“Horseshoes,” you offered from your corner by the railing. You were done playing with the ukulele and checked to make sure your tambourine was safe and sound.

“Oh, yes!” Vision was his thumbs up towards you, both arms stretched out as far as they could reach. “Brilliant, you’re absolutely brilliant, [Y/N]! Aren’t they brilliant, Wanda, very brilliant and very nice-looking?”

“Well, uh, yes, I suppose,” Wanda agreed awkwardly, glancing over at you before pulling Vision back to face her; you swore you even saw her cheeks turn a shade darker. “Listen, something strange happened with Dottie.”

You were too busy biting back a smile to hear the rest of the conversation. You rearranged your hat and jacket back into place from Vision knocking them askew, then brushed any wrinkles out of your skirt. You glanced over at Geraldine, who was peeking through the curtains at the main part of the stage.

“I was just playing with his shoes!” Vision suddenly hollered, as the members of the previous act, including someone dressed in a horse costume, made their way around the stage.

“What is going on?” Wanda cried.

Geraldine responded in kind, “You are!”

You considered taking their places so Wanda had time to knock some sense into her husband but you knew if you went out now, you would sound like fingers on a chalkboard, and going out on stage at all was bad enough. Instead, you walked over and gave the couple an encouraging pat on the shoulder and a “Good luck!” before making your way down the steps and around to the viewing area to find a place to sit.

Dottie was onstage. Her hand seemed fine now. “I want to thank you all for coming out to support Westview Elementary, for the children.”

“For the children,” the crowd echoed, mostly deadpan.

“I have yet to see a child,” you stated at the same time, sitting back in an extra chair off to the side of the stage as to not annoy audience members with the vocal warmups you were about to start doing.

Dottie continued, “And for our final act—”

Geraldine scurried out from behind the curtains at muttered something in Dottie’s ear before rushing away again.

Dottie quickly picked you on the sidelines and gave a strained smile, although the daggers she was glaring made you sink down in your chair. “Sorry, everyone. For our next to final act, I give you Wanda and Vision.”

Wanda sauntered out from behind the curtains and down to the front of the stage, then planted herself slightly off to the side and threw one hand up as an entrance cue to Vision. At first, he didn’t appear and Wanda’s bravado faltered slightly as she looked out into the crowd.

You caught her eye and gave her an assuring nod.

Then Vision flying out of curtains and yelled at the top of his lungs, “Hello Westview! Good afternoon!” Still introducing, he stumbled down to the main part of the stage, bumping into a railing at some point and apologizing to it. He sort of settled and continued, “I am Glamour and this is my delightful assistant Illusion.”

“I am Glamour,” Wanda chimed in, talking and moving with even more animation than she normally would, “and he’s Illusion.”

“Yeah, what she said,” Vision said simply, then rambled on, “Tonight, we will lie to you, and yet you will believe our little deceptions because human beings are easily fooled due to their limited understanding of the inner workings of the universe.” He ended this definitely off-script statement with a matter-of-fact shrug and nod.

You regretted not going on first.

“Flourish!” Vision suddenly hollered, waving his hands in such a way.

This was going to be chaos, you decided, and it was.

Wanda and Vision’s act was a mess but at least it was an entertaining one. While the act did go on, Vision spent most of his time prattling on and yelling “Flourish!” while Wanda tried to keep things in check. Some of the tricks were good and even impressive at times before the “inner workings of the universe” became clear moments later. Vision’s first trick was to float up into the air, only for a pulley system to be revealed as Wanda moved a sign offstage. For the second, he picked up a piano with one hand only for the jarringly realistic instrument only for Wanda to slip up while carrying the one-dimensional prop away and show its bare wooden back with a large handle to grasp.

At one point, though, Vision trotted offstage and tried to perform a card trick for a friend while Wanda was helpless to stop him, but the end result was him going through an entire deck of cards trying to find the correct one. Then he went to pull Señor Scratchy out of his hat, only to find his hat laying on stage and Agnes’s rabbit hopping across it until Wanda managed to catch him and take him backstage.

Regardless of which tricks hit and which went wonky, the crowd, you included, seemed to love the Maximoff duo and hung onto the entire act. There were gasps and awes and you were personally still dumbfounded by the one where Vision pulled a hat through his body; the backstage curtains happened to fall at the perfect time to reveal a multitude of mirrors, only one of which that you knew had been back there previously, but a dull throb in the back of your head warned you to just let the mystery slide. After all, it wasn’t as fun if you spent the entire show pondering.

For Vision and Wanda’s final trick, Wanda brought out a large box called the Cabinet of Mysteries. At first, Vision stated that he was going to make his wife disappear but then he started locking up the Cabinet without her inside.

You caught Wanda’s act begin to slip again as her smile faltered and she began scanning the crowd. No else did, though, because Agnes suddenly hollered an offer of audience participation in the form of her husband, which caused everyone including Vision to laugh.

Then Vision was back to his trick, slapping the Cabinet’s side with a plastic wand and yelling, “Abrakadabra!”

“Uh, sweetheart,” Wanda murmured without breaking her pose.

Vision responded loudly, “Yeah?”

“Hi.”

“Oh.”

There was an awkward pause and you chewed your lip as you glanced around. People were waiting for the finale and Vision had just messed it up big time.

A chant of “What’s in the box?” started up.

Then you happened to look back to the stage just in time to make eye contact with Wanda as she looked around.

She grinned.

And then you were somewhere else, surrounded by darkness and wood panels.

You were only there for a moment but your eyes still needed a moment to adjust as Wanda and Vision open the Cabinet of Mysteries’ doors and you were greeted with a gasping and then applauding crowd. You blinked and, disoriented but not wanting to ruin Wanda and Vision’s successful grand finale, you put on your best smile and hopped out of the wooden box to strike a flourished pose.

“Ah-ha,” Vision voiced, seeming just as surprised as the crowd before grinning walking stepping up to your side.

Wanda stepped up to your other side and when you raised an eyebrow at her, she gave you a cheeky grin and mouthed, “Magic.” The wink she gave you afterward could have sent you to the moon but you still had your own performance to do. She made sure you were reminded of that by holding up a microphone.

Wanda and Vision each slipped an arm around your waist and you did the same to them despite their touch feeling very warm underneath the jacket of your uniform, and with one last “Flourish!” from Vision, the three of you bowed. The three of you bowed two more times before standing fully again. Wanda and Vision began to move away from you but you slid your arms to grab their own, keeping them there.

Wanda leaned in slightly, talking through her smile. “What are you doing?”

“Grab the tambourine in my trunk and go sit by Agnes. Ask her to inform you and wait for the cue.” When Wanda looked at you with a raised brow, you mimicked her cheeky grin and wink, mouthing, “Music.”

Vision leaned in now, although way too close. “What are we doing?”

“Tambourine, apparently,” Wanda responded, stepping away from you. You figured they were going to go and do as you asked but instead, Wanda continued, “Vis, take the cabinet and grab the tambourine; I have an introduction to do.”

Vision stood around for a moment before doing what Wanda told him to and Wanda slipped her arm around your waist once more and brought you a few steps farther to the front of the stage.

Now sitting at the edge of it was Vision’s ukulele and the mic stand, probably courtesy of Geraldine.

With you close at her side and you unsure where to put your hands, Wanda attached the microphone she held to the stand and turned it on. “As Dottie has said several times tonight, thank you once more for coming to support Westview Elementary, for the children.”

“For the children,” the audience echoed, still mostly deadpan.

“I still haven’t seen a single one,” you muttered. This earned you a pinch to the hip from the hand around your waist and you suddenly felt like your body was the same temperature as the surface of the sun.

“Now,” Wanda continued without missing a beat, “allow me to introduce helper of Illusion and Glamour’s grand finale and the final final act of tonight’s talent show, [Y/N]!”

The audience clapped and Wanda did with it as she detached from your side and slipped backstage after giving you an electric smile. Suddenly, you were much more aware of being on a stage in front of your entire town, save for the two people you actually wanted to see in it.

“Um, yes, hello,” you said into the mic, standing a little too close. You didn’t know it was possible to feel the amount of heat burning behind your cheeks and ears, and you wished to could shed your jacket but figured that would ruin the ensemble. You shook your head to clear it as you bent down to pick up your ukulele—

—and when you stood back up, you spotted Wanda and Vision—who seemed to have sobered up somehow—sitting at Agnes’s table with a tambourine on the table between them.

You bit back a smile as your gaze flitted between them; they each gave you a smile in turn before you continued, “Um, so, as you heard, I am the final act. My name is [Y/N] and I will be performing a song, “Can’t Take My Eyes off You” by Frankie Valli, acoustic on ukulele.”

You strummed the ukulele once, just to make sure it was still in tune, then you began to play. You leaned back from the mic to clear your throat and after a couple of bars, you came in:

“You're just too good to be true

Can't take my eyes off of you

You'd be like Heaven to touch

I wanna hold you so much

At long last, love has arrived

And I thank God I'm alive

You're just too good to be true

Can't take my eyes off of you

Pardon the way that I stare

There's nothin' else to compare

The sight of you leaves me weak

There are no words left to speak

But if you feel like I feel

Please let me know that it's real

You're just too good to be true

Can't take my eyes off of you”

You were a bit pitchy in the beginning but it didn’t take you too long to find where you needed to be, then it was smooth sailing from there; you even put a bit of a beat into it with a tap of your foot, which with a hard heel on a wooden floor in front of a silent crowd wasn’t too difficult to hear. At first, you kept your gaze pointed directly ahead and slightly above the crowd but as you began to relax and get into it, you couldn’t help but catch glances of a tapping foot here or a finger tapping on a glass cup there. Finally, your eyes drifted to where they wanted to be and you couldn’t look away from the pair seated next to Agnes even if you’d wanted to.

Vision was bopping along as he would when he was teaching you the chords and notes you were looking for, both feet and all ten fingers tapping, though his smile was particularly bright. Wanda was looking at you some type of sweet way, with that soft expression she’d had when you’d caught her in a dip earlier just today.

“I love you, baby

And if it's quite alright

I need you, baby

To warm the lonely night

I love you, baby

Trust in me when I say

Oh, pretty baby

Don't bring me down, I pray

Oh, pretty baby

Now that I've found you, stay

And let me love you, baby

Let me love you”

You wanted the first part of the song to be softer but as you hit the second part of the chorus you smoothly added in a little action. You put a little flourish in your strumming—and almost missed a word because the idea of calling it a flourish made you almost laugh—added a little more power to your voice, and cued Agnes in, who began clapping along to the proper beat. It didn’t take too long for your audience, especially those who’d you caught tapping along earlier, to join in until the entire crowd was doing it, and happened you catch Vision’s eye while he clapping along a little more animated than everyone else. He grinned, a little bashful by the look of it.

Once she’d gotten everyone in, Agnes stopped clapping herself and instead pulled a tambourine of her own out of her handbag. You watched her nudge Wanda, who stopped her clapping and picked up the other tambourine, then followed Agnes’s lead until she got a hang of it. You’d think two tambourines would be a little hard to hear over a sea of clapping but it was Agnes and Wanda and as usual, they figured out a way.

You knew you’d chosen a popular song and you knew that some people would know it in full but despite Agnes trying to convince you that she’d have everyone joining in, you definitely didn’t expect the entire crowd to be able to stay in sync and follow the ebbs and flows of the entire song. It really was a bit of a magical moment and you found with that thought, you found your eyes settling on Wanda, who was jamming away on her tambourine and dancing in her seat, without missing a beat.

She must have noticed because she raised her head and looked back at you.

The song ended not long after and you couldn’t help clapping for the crowd as they did for you. You took your second set of bows on stage that day, hollered a “Thank you” to the crowd, and took off to the section of backstage that was still hidden by curtains with a wave as Dottie took your place to do the talent show’s conclusion. With layers of dark fabric now between you and the rest of the talent show, you could only hear muffled voices, which was perfectly fine with you as you were too busy tossing your tux jacket and hat aside and shaking out the tautness in your limbs caused by the nerves of performing on your own in front of a decently sized crowd. Although, technically, you and the crowd were performing by the end of it.

You tried to tune in to Dottie’s voice as you bounced over to look yourself over in one of the mirrors left over from Vision and Wanda’s performance. Your outfit was intact, albeit a little bit ruffled from the dancing around you just finished doing, with your hair looking a bit flat from being stuck under a hat. Your face was flushed with a warmth that you felt from your toes to your hairline but what little makeup you wore looked just as it did earlier minus your lipstick having faded somewhat. The best and worst part of your current state, you thought, came from that part; the smile you were wearing was radiant but it was lasting so long that your cheeks were starting to hurt, and even if you purposely tried to frown it away, it popped back up a few seconds later.

Especially when you thought about how much Wanda and Vision were enjoying themselves, because of you.

“Um, excuse me.”

Your gaze turned its attention to look at the reflection of Geraldine, who was standing behind you, in the mirror. “Oh, hey.”

She smiled, pleased that you didn’t seem disrupted. “Your singing was really twitchin’, you had the whole crowd into it!”

“I think that was more Agnes’s glaring than anything, but thanks.” You sent a less starstruck smile at her in the mirror, then picked up your hat to fan yourself as you turned around to face her.

“Agnes is way out herself,” Geraldine agreed, though you saw her smile falter and caught her fingers tapping nervously on the clipboard she held. “She could probably out-power Dottie if she really wanted to.”

“She doesn’t,” you affirmed, “she likes to use Dottie as a reason to sneak drinks into social gatherings too much.”

Geraldine smiled again but she wouldn’t fully look at you and when she did, her eyes looked like they were searching for something.

“You okay?” When Geraldine looked at you, surprised, you nodded to her hands that couldn’t seem to keep still. “Seem a little unglued and you keep looking at me funny.”

“Oh, uh, well,” Geraldine stammered a bit, then stopped. She took a deep breath, then tried again, “I know we saw each other at Dottie’s earlier and before you went onstage but… Do you know me?”

Your eyebrows rose high up on your forehead.

“It’s just,” she continued, sounding like she was forcing herself to talk slower, “you look familiar to me and I’m wondering if you think the same thing.”

“I… I suppose I did when I first saw you,” you said, setting your hat aside. Suddenly feeling uncomfortable, you couldn’t help glancing around; specifically, you looked towards the curtains separating you and Geraldine from the outside world and wished that wasn’t the case. “I figured we’d met in passing, tooling or something.”

When you looked back at Geraldine, it was as if your personalities had changed. You were the meek one, shifting around unsettled, while she stood watching you with a thoughtfulness that was far from the nervousness you saw in her earlier. “I don’t know where I’m from or why I’m here. Do you?”

You couldn’t be sure whether she was asking you about yourself or her but your head was suddenly too foggy to care. Foggy and throbbing with a pain that made darkness tinge the corners of your vision. You went to step to the side and steady yourself on a nearby chair but found yourself reeling backwards. You smashed into the mirror behind you, which smashed into the wall behind it and shattered; you managed to stumble away from it before you got too badly hurt but you still felt shocks of pain up your right arm and a particularly bad one in your hand as you caught glass.

Before you could run into something else or completely lose balance and fall to the ground, you slowly maneuvered to the floor and braced yourself on one knee and your unharmed hand and you were vaguely aware that Geraldine had disappeared. You squinted through blurriness at your other arm and watched as spots of blood bloomed across the white fabric of your sleeve, weeped from the gash across your palm.

No, wait.

Not only blood but color spread out your bleeding wounds. Flesh tone bled from your palm and color wetted the jewels on your bracelets and rings, color seeped from a tattered tear in your shirt and faded into the wooden floor in your line of vision, as if everything was on one piece of paper and watercolor paint was bleeding across the lines of a sketch.

“[Y/N?]” Vision’s voice called, “Are you back here?”

You tried to hide your hurt arm behind your back and jerked your head in the direction of voices getting closer. You immediately regretted the sudden movement and tried to blink away pain—

When you opened your eyes, you were standing, completely fine, in front of the mirror, completely unbroken, and fanning yourself with your hat with your other arm, completely unharmed, at your side. When your eyes flitted around, looking for Geraldine in the mirror’s reflection, she was nowhere backstage.

Instead, your eyes settled on Vision and Wanda walking through the curtains, smiling and animatedly chatting and holding a small trophy between them.

Once they were through the fabric they looked around, Vision’s bright eyes settling on you just a moment before Wanda’s did.

You could have melted. Whatever concern or worries you had just a moment earlier certainly did.

“[Y/N],” Wanda beamed, “look at what we won!” She pointed and Vision raised the trophy for you to properly see; you managed to read “Inaugural Comedy Performance of the Year” etched into its base before the pair walked over.

You turned to meet them, placing your hat back on your head and snagging your tuxedo jacket to slip back into. “A trophy, congrats!”

“We tried to get you to come up on stage with us,” Vision said, “but we couldn’t find you!”

He certainly seemed to have sobered up since you last stood face to face with him.

You apologized, “Sorry, I had to come backstage. I was overheated and far too overwhelmed by the crowd, I don’t think I could have it up there again either way!”

“Oh, you poor thing.” Her expression shifted from proud to worried in a moment and she went to press a hand to your forehead before she seemed to decide against it. “Are you feeling any better?”

You felt the need to take a quick glance around backstage, though you couldn’t explain why. Then you nodded. “I am, much. Actually, since I wasn’t able to join you on stage and congratulate you there, how about we all get changed into clothes a little less eye-catching and we have dinner at my place, hm? I’ll cook and everything.”

“They can cook?” Vision teased to Wanda without lowering his voice at all.

“They can,” you responded, giving his side a quick jab, then smiled and slid around them. Stopping at the edge of the stage, you offered out your arms to them both. “At least a little bit. Shall we?”

Wanda faked a thinking pose and when Vision caught on he did the same.

“We-ell,” Wanda sang, tilting her head from side to side, “Oh, alright, we shall.” She walked over, tugging Vision along with her, and they each linked arms with you.

The three of you headed offstage.

“I disagree about changing, though,” Vision claimed suddenly; both you and Wanda gave him a look. “I think we all look—”

“Smashing?” offered Wanda.

“Ravishing?” you suggested.

“—absolutely neato,” Vision finished, nodding. “And I think we should show off to the town!”

You shook your head but you were smiling. “I already showed off to the town enough today.”

“And I’m still showing off too much,” Wanda agreed. She kicked one stocking-covered leg out for good measure.

“Oh, fine.” Vision scoffed.

He certainly did not admit defeat, though, and spent the rest of the walk home trying to convince the two of you.

Wanda and Vision, without his human disguise, danced into their home after a lovely dinner at [Y/N]’s—they could cook a bit!—and as they walked through the door, Wanda spun herself into Vision’s arm.

Vision slightly dipped her and said in a voice that was an octave or two lower, “You were tremendous Glamour.”

“As were you, Illusion,” Wanda responded with a pearly smile. She stood up straight and walked over to put their new trophy on the coffee table as Vision shut the front door. “Oh, I don’t know what I was so worried about. It wasn’t so hard to fit in after all!”

Wanda sat and got comfortable on the couch and Vision soon followed. “And all we had to do was be ourselves.”

“Well, with a few modifications,” Wanda said as she curled in closer under her husband’s arm.

“And it was all for the children,” Vision said. Halfway through the phrase, Wanda joined in, then they chuckled and gently bumped their foreheads together.

Then Wanda leaned back into the couch and Vision’s side, quiet. She glanced around the room, absentmindedly playing with Vision’s fingers.

“Wanda, darling, is something wrong?”

Vision’s voice brought her attention back to him. She smiled, leaned in, and gave him a peck on the lips, then looked at their joined hands. Her smile faltered; she felt like something was missing.

“[Y/N] made this funny point at the talent show, about the ‘for the children’ thing; ‘I haven’t seen one yet’ or something like it,” she said out of the blue. “They were an angel with me today.”

“Oh?” Vision responded softly. He seemed to cue into her befuddled emotions and leaned back, looking at her intently.

“At Dottie’s,” she clarified, then added, “They also walked me home because I was a little shaken up. Very sweet.”

“That’s right,” Vision said, “You said something strange happened at Dottie’s today?”

“More like a few weird things,” Wanda confirmed, then recounted the details. Most of them anyway; she kept out the part about the radio talking to her for the sake of her and Vision’s sanity. It sounded legitimately insane and was probably the result of her fear at the time making her imagine things.

Then again, Dottie had heard it as well… She couldn’t confirm that [Y/N] had.

“My, that is indeed bizarre,” Vision said. His hairless brow furrowed. “Is Dottie alright?”

“Well, she must be,” Wanda replied, “She was perfectly fine at the show today and didn’t say a word about it, so…”

Vision gave a thoughtful nod, then shrugged. “Must be.”

They both faded into cozy, albeit wondering, silence. Wanda began playing with Vision’s fingers again and she happened to look towards the front door.

“Hey Vis?”

“Hm?”

“Do you think [Y/N]’s attractive?”

Vision took in an unneeded breath so fast that he almost choked on his tongue. He spluttered, “Pardon?”

“You know,” Wanda continued, turning back in his direction but not looking at him, “A fox. A hunk. Ravishing.”

If Vision could blush he probably would have. He removed his arm from around Wanda’s shoulders and scratched the side of his face. “I was feeling weird when I said that. You know, the gum. I didn’t mean—well that’s not to say they’re not attractive either! Because they are. I mean, they look fine, I certainly wouldn’t say unattractive by any means, and I quite like their company. But love, I didn’t mean anything serious by it, I didn’t mean to offend—”

“I think they’re attractive,” Wanda stated simply, bringing Vision’s rambling to a quick halt. Her gaze drifted back towards the front door and she briefly used her magic to view the home across the street. Some of the lights were still on; she imagined their dinner companion was in the kitchen, washing up the dishes from their meal.

She wouldn’t mind cooking with [Y/N] or washing dishes with them after meals. Or having both Vision and them coming home in the evenings.

“Oh. Um, well… Oh?”

“Quite like their company too,” Wanda went on, agreeing with one of Vision’s earlier statements. Her eyes moved to the plant [Y/N] had brought them not long after they’d first moved in; the plant had outgrown its old pot at this point but had its original ribbon still intact on the current one. “And they’ve always got manners and compliments and they’re always getting so nervous that they're going to come off the wrong way.”

“Yes,” Vision said slowly, “They treat me the same way. Sometimes, if I’m not working, I’ll come to work the next day and have files on my desk with little notes clipped to them. And they’ll sometimes even bring me a snack or a water cup after coming back from their break or lunch, even though I’ve never even pretended to drink or eat in front of them.”

“Well, to be fair,” Wanda said, “regular humans do just randomly eat and drink things, and they do think you’re a regular human.”

“I often wish they didn’t, though,” Vision mumbled, rubbing his jaw, “because I’m not a big fan of lying to them and pretending as I do. I keep their snacks in my drawer until I’m heading home and then throw it out on the way because I don’t want them to see and feel bad.”

Wanda nodded, understanding. “I’m not exactly jazzed about lying to them either.”

They simultaneously sighed and slumped together.

What odd feelings, Wanda thought, for a married couple to have about their neighbor across the street.

“Wanda?”

“Yes, dear?”

“Do you feel the same way about them as you do me?”

Wanda tilted her head from side to side and tapped her chin as she thought. “Not how I feel about you now, no. But how I felt about when I first met you? Maybe. Or, at least, something like it.”

Vision hummed. “They feel a bit familiar, don’t they?”

“And we have such a good time together, the three of us,” Wanda added.

A small spell of silence again.

Then Wanda said, “I think we should ask them on a date.”

Vision almost choked on his tongue again. “You think we should— I mean— You and me? As you and me together or you and me separately?”

“Why not both?”

Wanda’s husband’s eyes bugged out of his head. If they weren’t in the middle of a serious conversation, she may have laughed.

“Can we… Can we even do that?” Vision asked.

“I mean, I don’t see why not,” Wanda answered, shrugging. “It’s not illegal to date another person. Just marry them, I think. Actually, I’m not even sure if it’s illegal to do that.”

“But isn’t that… An affair? Of sorts?” Vision squinted, quickly glancing between his wife and the window, whose curtains shielded his view from the person in question’s home. It almost felt disrespectful talking about [Y/N] without them present, which was odd in itself.

“No, not if we’re both dating the person in question, I don’t think,” Wanda said. Her brows knitted together a bit but then she perked up and placed her hands on Vision’s thigh. “I know when we can do it!”

“When?”

“We forgot to get your ukulele back,” She responded with a big smile. “We can go get it and ask them on a date.”

“What would we even do on a… three-way date?” Vision cringed at himself. He would never call them a three-way again.

“Picnic,” Wanda offered, then listed off, “Dinner out. A walk. Trip to a passion pit for a movie. Dancing but that would require one of us to know how to dance. Maybe [Y/N] knows how to dance!”

“I know how to dance,” Vision said with a scowl.

“No, hon, you don’t, but you’re wonderful all the same,” Wanda said and kissed him on the nose. “Besides, the three of us have almost been attached at the hip since we’ve gotten to know each other; it wouldn’t exactly be odd for us to go out and do things together. Hell, we did the talent show together today and it went very well!”

“The gum?”

“It went decently well!”

Wanda could see Vision warming up to the idea just as much as she was. She could practically see the gears turning in his head as he tried to come up with dates fit for three people.

After a moment, Vision gave her a solid nod. “Alright then! When we see them to get my ukulele, we’ll ask them on a date.”

“Yay!” Wanda clapped. “A date!” She hopped up from her seat and, drifting back to their previous conversation, she said, “Well, I think the children need some popcorn!” Vision said her name and she spun back to look at him. “Hm, what?”

Vision slowly stood and looked pointedly down at her stomach. She did too, then gasped and touched her ballooned out stomach. She looked as if she were a few months pregnant and after holding her stomach for a bit longer, she knew she was. Wanda looked up at her husband with a mixture of fear and wonder in her eyes; the look on his face mimicked her own.

“Vision,” she said softly, “is this really happening?”

Vision searched her face as he gently grasped her hands. His mouth quirked up just slightly as he answered, “Yes, my love, it’s really happening.”

They leaned for a kiss.

They were interrupted by a crash outside.

Both Wanda and Vision jumped as they looked towards the door. Then Vision scowled and released Wanda’s hands to walk over to the door.

“If it’s that damn tree again,” he loudly grumbled, “I am going to… rip it out by the roots!”

He walked outside and Wanda quickly followed.

You jumped back from your sink, almost dropping a dish in shock from the crash that had just come out front. You couple a couple breaths to calm yourself, then put your dish and drying rag down and headed to the living room.

“I swear,” you warned, loud enough so the trees outside could hear you, “I’ll come out there with a chainsaw! I don’t have one but I’ll find one and I’ll do it!”

You walked to the front door. You peeled back the curtain hanging from its window to see Wanda and Vision—who looked strange, though it was too dark outside to tell why—walking outside their own home and out to the sidewalk. You watched them, debating on whether to walk outside as well and help investigate or not.

“I don’t see anything!” you heard Wanda holler. Almost immediately, her and her husband’s gaze were drawn to a manhole cover in the middle of the street.

You followed their gaze and your eyes nearly popped out of their sockets as the three of you watched the manhole slowly move out of place. From the corner of your eye, you saw Vision closer to Wanda, and you wished you could too, but you were stuck watching as someone climbed out of the now gaping hole in the road.

A… beekeeper?

A beekeeper and swarm of bees climbed out of the manhole.

You felt that now-familiar feeling again, foggy-headed but not in pain and fiercely protective of, this time, both her and her husband and her children.

Children?

You scrambled to get your front door open as the strange beekeeper of the sewer turned to look at the Maximoffs. You looked down to mess with the doorknob—

When you looked up again, you were standing on the front porch of the Maximoff house.

How weird.

You spun and looked around wildly, your eyes settling on the manhole cover closed tightly shut it in the street for just a few seconds longer than the rest of the environment, but everything seemed in order. Slowly relaxing, you turned back to your task of returning Vision’s ukulele.

You raised your right hand to knock, then stopped.

Color began blooming across your arm, beginning from the same spots you vaguely remembered cutting yourself on a broken mirror recently. This time, though, there were no cuts or blood, just gray tones coming to life in bright, vivid color. Gray turned to the color of skin and the green of your blouse—you’d thought it’d been green before but now you could properly see it—and when you spun around to observe the rest of the neighborhood, it was suddenly in color too. When you slowly, awestruck, turned back to Wanda and Vision’s house, it was wonderfully colored too, as was the ukulele in your lovely, now-in-color hand.

You grinned and excitedly knocked on the door, only for it to be opened moments later by Vision, wearing a very nice yellow and blue sweater or a white-colored shirt.

“Oh, [Y/N]!” He said it in a way that was a little too loud and he nervously glanced over his shoulder at Wanda, who stood a few feet back in a beautiful outfit of bright red with her hands on her expecting stomach.

You really did like her shirt.

You just liked her.

You just liked her and her husband quite a lot.

“Sorry, bad time?” You held out Vision’s ukulele to him. “I finished cleaning up and was about to go to bed when I noticed this still sitting on my coffee table.”

“Oh, that’s perfect!” Vision chirped, still just a little too loud than necessary.

“Oh, goodness, Vis, come inside.” Wanda walked over and nudged Vision out of the way, then smiled at you and took the ukulele out of your hand.

“Remember when we first met and you said he wasn’t always like that?” you quipped with a crooked smile, which broke into a cheek-hurting grin when Wanda giggled in response.

“Suppose I hadn’t realized it yet,” Wanda teased back. She offered the ukulele to Vision, who was still standing nearby and who was now pouting, then she moved to do the side. “Would you like to come in for a drink? We were just talking about you.”

Now you were the awkward one. “Um, yeah, sure.” You stepped inside and, glancing again at Wanda’s belly, added, “I can’t believe I forgot a baby gift. Congratulations, if I haven’t said it already.”

Wanda blinked, then shut the door behind you. “Oh nonsense. There’s plenty of time left for that.”

“I feel like it came out of nowhere; they might be here sooner than you think!”

236 notes · View notes

thatslikely · 3 years

Text

Fireball - F.W.

Fireball- Fred Weasley x fem!reader (unspecified house)

Warnings: food and allusions to sex

Word Count: 3k

A/N: did I go overboard? yes. do I want to go to an amusement park with Freddie? yes.

Just a reminder: Y/N is Your Name and Y/L/N is Your Last Name

Taglist: @amourtentiaa @probably-peeves @anchoeritic @theweasleytwinsgirl @horrorxweasley

if you wanted to be added, send me a dm or ask!

“Sweetheart, have you got everything all packed up? I hope you didn’t accidentally pack any Canary Creams this time!” Fred jested from the room across the hall of the Burrow as you eagerly stuffed various waterproof jackets, sticky bottles of sunscreen that smelled pungently of hot summer afternoons spent loitering by the lake, and stacks of Muggle ‘cash’ into a small backpack.

“I think so. And do you really have to bring up that one time every time I’m in charge of snacks?” Zipping up the pockets of the sack, you gave it a satisfactory pat.

“Don’t worry, I thought you still looked cute, even as a bright yellow birdie.” You were helpless to stop your eyes from rolling in your skull with a sarcastic grumble.

As Fred sauntered over to you, arms extended and ready to give you a bear hug, you extolled, “are you excited? Your first time at an amusement park!” His muscular arms tightly wrapped around yours’; so tightly, in fact, that you lifted off the ground, still wrapped his playful yet loving embrace like a familiar blanket of comfort. The shirt handsomely draped over his figure smelled like home; of the common room after the crackling fireplace ceased, the deserted aisles of a fluorescent convenient store at midnight, burnt popcorn kernels smoking from the microwave.

“Of course I’m excited, Y/N. You’ve only blabbered about this place since the beginning of time. It better live up to the stories you’ve told!” he said cheerfully into your ear, his warm breath fanning your face, causing electric shocks of thrill to pang every one of your nerves.

“Today’s gonna be so much fun!” Your chest fluttered as Fred gently set you down like a prized china doll, throwing the stuffed backpack over his broad shoulders.

“I hope the fun carries over into tonight, too.” Fred painted a devilishly handsome suggestive smirk on his features, barely fighting off the urge to buckle your knees with his signature wink.

“Oh shove off, Freddie!” you giggled as you friskily swatted your boyfriend’s bicep. “Let’s just focus on the park for now, we can worry about that later.”

His intoxicating lips pressed a small peck to your forehead before he asked, “You ready to go have the best day ever with your impossibly amazing, handsome, clever, boyfriend?”

“Yes, Fred,” you smiled as he unsheathed his spiky-handled wand, “yes!”

With a quick, pickle-jar-lid pop! you and Fred were instantly engrossed in the eye of a large crowd of joyous Muggle families scurrying around in circles reminiscent of the windy spirals of a cyclone. Most grinning adults had a tiny, chubby hand gripped in their palm, and most of the bubbly kids had a drippy strawberry popsicle in theirs’.

The familiar plaza surrounding you flooded your heart with comfort and security. Wheeled food stands with bright, enthusiastic neon signs formed street-like pathways; the distant screams from speedy roller coaster riders melded with the thematic music echoing from speakers.

“We’re here!” you squealed, running over to a stand to grab a neatly labeled map of the park, despite knowing its layout like the back of your hand. Fred had been prone to getting lost before, especially in non-magical places, such as malls or airports (We have a lost boy named Fred Weasley, lost at gate thirty-six, and he’s looking for his, er- significant other, Y/N Y/L/N. He’s sixteen years old, quite tall, and has bright red hair, impossible to miss. Please come pick him up at the travel counter, thank you). You were tempted to tease him as you handed him the map, but considering the high possibility he had some sort of prank secretly stashed on his person, you wouldn’t dare risk it.

Fred uttered a “whoa,” as he took in his surroundings with enchanted, curious umber eyes, “this place is absolutely wicked.” His gaze then downturned, scanning the map, intently awaiting the vibrant, printed graphics to spring to life like pamphlets in the Wizarding World do.

“The map’s not going to start moving, if that’s what you’re waiting for, silly,” you teased, pointing to your location on the detailed unfolded brochure.

“Pfft, I knew that.” His insincere arrogance didn’t help to conceal the slight pink tone that heated his cheeks at all. Pure-blood wizards were truly an enigma.

You ignored his unsuccessful cover-up with an expression that screamed, ‘yeah, right’, as you explained to him (a bit condescendingly) like a schoolchild, “we’re right here, at the entrance. There’s a list of the rides, bathrooms, shops, and places to eat off to the side.”

The blazing sun overhead coated your surroundings with tepid, dandelion-hued light, and the relaxed summer breeze softly ruffled your flowy strands of hair, as well as Fred’s. He quickly combed through his fiery mane with his fingers, a smirk quirking his lips at the promise of so many exciting things to do and see.

“We’re gonna start off with my favorite ride ever: The Fireball.”

Fred dropped his jaw to respond, but you wasted no time maneuvering to the beloved orange scream-producer. You hastily snatched his large hand before weaving him through the cluster of people, scuttling towards a looming bright, tiger-orange arc towering above everything in the distance: the peak of the Fireball. The Fireball was the single best roller coaster ever constructed: its seats were comfortable and secure, its extensive track was fluid and fast, and the excellently paired loops and corkscrews were enough to spark terror in even the bravest riders.

You had been savoring the thrill of the beloved flame-colored coaster for as long as your crown had finally surpassed the minimum-height indicating green line on the sign before its intimidating crimson gates so many years ago.

Tears streamed horizontally across your face, a painful, open-mouthed smile etched onto your features. Screamed giggles echoed from your toothy mouth as you firmly gripped the bar in front of you, letting the rapid twists and turns of the coaster envelop you wholly. By the time the track had slowed and looped back to the station, your head was spinning, allowing you to barely think, let alone walk. Your hair was fluffed out like a bird’s nest but you couldn’t care less. All you knew was, you had to ride Fireball again.

No other coaster could even dream to compete with the beast of an attraction; it drew you in like a magnet, and hadn’t let you go since. Every other ride just felt inexplicably off in a way that even the most eloquent weren’t capable of articulating. And you finally got to share your favorite coaster with the person you undoubtedly love the most: Fred.

“Freddie, are you ready to go on the best roller coaster of all time? It’ll blow your mind!” you excitedly asked, pulling him towards the coaster’s spaghetti-twisted track. The look of pure bliss that exuded from your body was so, so difficult to say no to. There was something so child-like about your pupil’s vivacious glow; it reminded him of the days so long ago when his biggest stressor was whether he should pull a prank on an unsuspecting Ron or Percy next.

But an equally childish emotion struck his heart: fear. Fred Weasley feared nothing. A furious Umbridge, maniacal Dark Wizards, and even speedy rogue Bludgers wouldn’t even make him flinch. A roller coaster however, was different. Whether it was the sketchy-looking track held together by metal bolts, the loopty-loop that he would surely fall out of, or the fact that it was made by hands, not magic, inexplicable waves of nervousness flooded his body, causing his heart to boom faster and louder in his chest and his palms to condensate with sweat.

“Hey, uh, angel, it’s actually getting pretty hot, don’t ya think? Why don’t we go have some ice cream first, my treat?” Fred nervously asked, an unshakable stutter in his words. He delved into his pocket, revealing fistfull of bills and coins, eagerly looking for an ice cream stand. “I hope you know where the ice cream is?”

“‘Course I do, Freddie. The best cones are this way, follow me.” You giddily guided the lanky ginger through twists and turns, passing a multitude of fun (and tamer) rides Fred had never seen before. At long last, the two of you reached a small, dark and light blue-striped stand with a snowman holding a cone of strawberry deliciousness hung out front. The best ice cream in the whole park.

While the prospect of romantically sharing a cone of ice cream with Fred sounded tooth-rottingly sweet, the both of you were a tad too stubborn to be willing to share a single frozen treat. He did generously give you a lick of his drippy strawberry cone, however, and you relented to his pitiful puppy-dog eyes and quivering lip, letting him have a bite of yours’.

The ice cream almost instantaneously sent Fred back to summers at the Burrow when he was still equally adorable, but a far cry from who he was now. He was short, only an inch or two taller than Ron, his grin was crooked, and the bridge of his nose was dotted with bright orange freckles. Every cherished summer afternoon was spent slashing in the creek, throwing mud pies at Percy, digging up worms in the dirt, and daring Ron to bite into a cattail to see what it tasted like (that didn’t end well).

Once the delicious cream safely resided in your stomachs, you eagerly asked if the vermillion-haired boy across from you was ready to go on the ride of his life. When he responded with an inscrutable expression, the trips of his ears pricking with nervousness, you added persuasively, “c’mon Freddie, the line’s gonna get long if we wait much longer. The park’s filling up fast.”

“Hey! I have an idea. Instead of waiting in a boring line that’ll take forever,” -he exaggerated each syllable- “I could try to win you a prize at one of those booths over there. How does a giant teddy sound?” The grin on his face was impossible to renounce.

“Only if I get to play too. We’ll see whether you’re gonna be the one lugging around a huge stuffed bear!”

Fred yanked you to the nearest carnival game like an eager golden retriever, which evidently was a vibrant water gun race. The object of the game was to position your water gun to hit the target perfectly, and whoever held the jet until the quota was filled won.

Fred slapped a few bills onto the counter proudly, and the Muggle worker eyed him confusedly, before handing back a stack of greens to Fred. “It’s only five to play, sir.”

Fred took the vacant stool to the right to you, eyes glued on the prize: a large, bubble-gum pink teddy bear. Before he could even learn how to play, the bell rang, and water spewed out of the guns in front of you. Easily, you lined up the stream to the orange target before you, causing varicolored lights to flash and spiral., clashing the darkening sky above. Fred, however, wasn’t so lucky; he accidentally drenched the less-than-happy carny’s clownish uniform. The dripping employee sharply handed you the teddy before grumbling for the both of you to leave, preferably immediately.

“Ha! I won!” you boasted, rubbing the plushie in Fred’s amused face as you walked hand-in-hand past coasters and rides. He chucked before grabbing it from your hands, offering, “I’ll hold your prize for you, Miss Champion-water-gunner.”

“Okay, let’s go ride a coaster! I’m sure you know which one I wanna ride by now.” However, Fred was still nervous as ever. He’d never admit it, so naturally, he came up with every possible excuse.

“I- erm, why don’t we go ride that spinny one over there?”

“The carousel? That’s a toddler’s ride!”

“If I want to ride a horse-y, I will ride a horse-y!” Fred swooped you up in his arms, carrying you to the roped-off queue bridal-style while you flailed your arms, your face reddening with embarrassment.

In the blink of an eye, you found yourself seated on a jewel-embellished caramel horse, one of your hands gripped onto the golden pole lifting your pony up and down in a galloping motion. Your other hand was intertwined with Fred’s, who was perched on a mahogany horse draped in orange and green carpets and tassels beside you. Astonishment swam in his cocoa pools; his toe tapped in the stirrup to the old-fashioned circus music playing, he fiddled with the plastic emeralds of the horse’s bit, and he gave you the most innocent, heart-melting grin you’ve ever seen.

Once the bejeweled horses’ hopping halted, and the melodic recording of the march slowly faded, the sun crept below the horizon, granting the prussian blue air a chilly nip; it looked as if a Monet painting were suspended above the millions of flashing cabochon bulbs.

“Freddie, it's getting dark. We have time for probably one more ride,” you said, not failing to note the lively glow drain from Fred’s rosy cheeks and faint saffron freckles.“What’s wrong?”

“I uhh… I didn’t want to tell you this before, but…” -he scratched the nape of his neck with furrowed brows- “I’m scared of roller coasters.” Fred cracked a nervous side-mouthed smile. “Something about it just… I feel like I’m gonna fall out!”

“Oh, Freddie, I had no idea,” you said apologetically, resting your hand on his flanneled shoulder. The coruscating glow of the kaleidoscopic lights highlighted the fearful darting of his pupils.

“I wanna ride Fireball, it looks sick, but I’m more scared than I’d care to admit.”

“Here it’s okay, we can go on a smaller coaster if you want. Rocket’s always a classic, too,” you suggested, gesturing towards a short, blue and silver arch suffused in colorful carnival irradiance.

“No, I need to face my fear! Let’s go ride Fireball, darling. No buts!” Fred ushered you towards the Fireball, despite not having a clue about where it’s spaghetti bowl of track was grounded.

“It’s just like riding a broom! More safe, actually.” Fred lifted the chains of the queue for the both of you to mischievously slip under; you were pleasantly surprised to see the line was relatively short.

“Oh by the way, you better not tell anyone that I, Fred Weasley, star Quidditch player and most popular student, actually can get scared, or expect a foul prank in your future.” Fred embraced you with a hug from behind, not shy of showing some more risque displays of affection to the other teenaged riders to cement the unwavering fact that you were his, and only his.

“Well someone doesn’t seem so nervous anymore,” you teased, poking his chiseled chest playfully.

“What can I say? You’re too distracting.”

You gave him a sarcastic simper as you pulled him by the collar closer and closer to the loading station which was packed with workers and thrill-seekers alike. Fred continued to stay tricksy, a permanent smug smirk upturning his lips as his hands stayed glued to your body, in one place or another.

At long last, the mechanical locking of lap bars and revving of coaster-cars stiffened the slightly cocky Weasley (his nervous form reminded you oddly enough of a breadstick). You gave him more compassionate touches of affection, combing your fingers through his messy hair and tracing small circles on his back, humming.

When the menacing silver gates opened, allowing the two of you to climb inside the fire-truck red carts, Fred looked as if he would explode at any given moment. You grabbed his large, defined hand, your thumb soothingly rubbing vertical strokes on his metacarpal. Fred’s knees were nearly level with your chest once he was securely seated; the lap bar was generous with your wiggle room, but you didn’t mind, as long as Fred felt safe.

Fred’s hand’s grip was tight on yours’; you could feel his heart pump through each of his branchy veins rapidly. He asked seconds before the train was off to slowly climb the first daunting hill, “promise me you won’t let go?”

“I’ll never let you go, promise.”

The next approximately two minutes of ride time were a fantastic blur, just as magical as anything the Wizarding World had to offer. Streaks of golden lights shone around snippets of swirling orange tracks that subjected your body to addicting G force. Your weightless figure flew up and down serpent-esque hills and valleys, you were firmly pressed into your seat, hair hanging down in a flame shape on loopty-loops, and on corkscrews you swear your insides were rearranged.

As promised, you didn’t let go of Fred, in fact the opposite. On the first steep drop, he mustered the courage to hold your intertwined fingers above his head as he emitted a bellowing scream of raw pleasure. He submitted to the following expertly engineered twists and turns, letting his lanky body swish and fly at the mercy of the ride. It felt like a fierce match of Quidditch to him, except for the fact that his eyes were scrunched closed with joy, not open and alert for Bludgers.

Once Fireball came to an impossibly speedy ending, reality smacked you like a bus. As you got up from your seat to exit the dock, your legs wobbled and shook due to the copious amounts of adrenaline coursing through your veins. You concernedly surveyed Fred, who graciously supported you out of the station.

You peeled your awe tingling lips open to ask how he felt, and almost physically, he uttered a single, “wicked!”

“How could I have been ever scared of that? I feel like my bones are shaking inside of me!” he managed to exuberantly smile. He swished his arms back and forth pure joy flooding through him, prickling at his every nerve.

“I’m so glad you had fun, Freddie.”

“Thanks for helping me, y’know, have fun, let loose. I feel alive in a way I never have before, it’s insane!”

“I think we may be able to squeeze in one more ride. Wanna go for round 2?”

Fred pressed a rough, passionate kiss to your unsuspecting lips, his electric taste overwhelming you, coating every inch of yourself with red-hot desire, a new and welcome sensation that would linger for weeks.

“You know it.”

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mooifyourecows · 2 years

Note

Hello moo! How are you doing? How are the kitties and the puppies? Do you have any tips or general advice for living in Idaho? I might be moving there by the end of the year. I’ve also never seen snow in real life… is it soft?

Hey there babe, the kitties and dog are doing well. Ruto is getting a haircut on Monday and she is NOT gonna like it but I'm stoked to not find big clumps of black hair all over the house

Hmm I'm not sure if I have any advice for living in Idaho. It's pretty basic! But I'll try to scrounge up some info lmao

Southern Idaho is a desert. Very dry air. There are a lot of coyotes so if you let your pets outside then watch out for that! There are also a lot of magpies and I miss them so throw them some food for me if you see some because I'm like the only person I know that doesn't hate them lmaooo. In the valleys like where I used to live it gets hella windy on just a day to day basis, sometimes escalating to the point that microbursts can knock down trees. There isn't a lot of rain but there is a lot of snow, which IS soft but also cold so buy some gloves and snow boots and even some snow pants if you spend a lot of time outside during the winter.

There's hardly any public transportation outside of Boise (but even Boise isn't teeming with options tbh) so get used to driving pretty much everywhere, even on icy/snow drifted roads. If you have to drive when its icy/snowy, go slow and don't get too far to either side or else the snowy bank might suck you right off the road. Snow plows work hard but wind works harder so if you live outside of town, find which roads get used the most because they'll most likely be plowed sooner and least likely to be impassable with drifts. Pay attention to weather reports so that you can run to town and stock up on food and other stuff before a blizzard blows through and makes it impossible (or just too unpleasant) to get anywhere. Remember to leave your faucets on a trickle at night when the temperature is below 20F so that your pipes don't burst.

Speaking of driving in Idaho, cops are really active on the roads for some reason, (probably bored because the crime rate in Idaho is fairly low) and so really watch your speed and driving habits to avoid being pulled over for some stupid ass reason. If you follow protocol and act really nice and friendly, they usually won't give you a ticket though. (at least not when they pull you over for a bullshit reason. If they pull you over for going thirty over the speed limit then yeah you'll get a ticket ofc. but every time I've been pulled over, which has been like... 4-ish times?, I was let off with just a warning because I was polite and respectful)(ACAB tho)

Fires from California usually blow smoke all over the state so check air quality warnings during fire season and limit how often you go outside on the especially smoky days. Because Southern Idaho is a desert, you'll need to be careful about any fires you light. During fire season you'll have to call your local fire department and check to make sure it's safe for you to burn anything if you were thinking about having a bonfire or burning some weeds or something

Speaking of weed, it's illegal to smoke marijuana there so be discreet if you partake

Also speaking of weeds, foxtails will get all up in pets' business like their eyes and feet so if you've got a pooch or cat who is allowed outside that starts excessively licking their feet, they might have foxtails that have made their way under their skin and you'll need the vet to remove them for you. With my dog, I would just check his feet periodically to make sure there weren't any visibly sticking to him. There were times when I'd have a whole pile of the fuckers after just one round of searching him 🤦‍♂️ (this isn't a problem specific to Idaho but it's definitely a problem that isn't as common in greener places like where I live now)

Coeur d'Alene in Northern Idaho used to have a pretty nasty white supremacist population. I don't think they're as active as they used to be but with the past couple years, they might've gotten a little bolder so if you find yourself in that area, definitely be wary if you're POC (or even white, honestly, everyone should be wary of racists)

In my experience, Idahoans are nice and laid back. They're conservative and will def look at you weird if you're not what they're used to but they're usually not actively vicious. (Granted, I'm saying this as a white person who isn't 'out' publicly so there are absolutely sides of these people that I haven't experienced that a POC or openly queer person might)

All in all, it's a nice state. On the surface it might seem republican and boring but there's beautiful nature to experience and it's generally quiet and peaceful. If you hear gunshots, it's most likely just a hunter or recreational marksman. I lived on a farm for most of my life so gunshots were a really normal thing to experience and not a cause for alarm

If you move near Twin Falls, go eat at La Fiesta and the Burnt Lemon Grill and Gerties Brick Oven Cookery because I miss them. (technically there's a la fiesta in my new town but the one in Twin is SPECIAL okay. You can't miss it, it's the bright orange building on Blue Lakes) If you move near Boise then go eat at China Grand Buffet because I MISS IT TOO. (though maybe wait until the pandemic has slowed down because it is a buffet after all)

Go camping! And hiking! And kayaking! The Snake River is huge and fun and if you're near Twin Falls then you should absolutely 100% go rent some kayaks and kayak under the Perrine Bridge. If you're lucky, you'll see some base jumpers 🥰 You're going to be close to Yellowstone too so if you've never been, go give it a visit! There's so much to see and experience 👀 (i say this assuming you live far away from Idaho atm lmao)

Uhmmm i guess I don't really have anything else to say? My experiences are obviously unique to myself so I can't give you a guide on how to live in Idaho but I hope you got something useful ✌

Stay safe Babe. If you wind up moving to Idaho, I hope you meet some great people and have a good time! 🥰🌈💋

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onlyfortheplot · 4 years

Text

Joke? You ARE the joke!

➳ Pairing: Kuroo Tetsurou x Fem!Reader

➳ Synopsis:

“The Earth is flat.“ you said, emotionless. He looked at you like you were the stupidest person in existence. “And the Sun is a planet. Water isn’t a liquid. Plants can—“

“Sorry!“ he screeched, covering his ears at your ridiculousness, “I’m sorry for pouring the water on you. Just stop.”

➳ Warning: Slight language

➳ Word Count: 1.4K

A/N:

I had a writer’s block and I just watched my neighbor fall I cackled. And this is what came out. Hope you guys like?? Asks are CLOSED, but I’m most likely going to open them tomorrow, since Shiptember is coming. Anyway ENJOY! <3 ALSO. @omiswhore and @applepienation THANKS FOR GETTING ME OUT OF THE BLOCK. (ɔ◔‿◔)ɔ ♥

“Open the damn door,“ you kicked door, irking at the muffled laughs from behind it, you sighed, slamming a fist against it. How dare they. This was the second — no third time you had been locked out. You pounded the door, muttering threats under your breath as your little brother let out a cackling laugh.

“Let. Me.In.“ Each word was a kick to the door. “Or I’m telling mom!“

“Or I’m telling mom,“ he mocked, as you kicked the door harder.

“I’m older than you, you pea brained idiot.“ you huffed, sliding your pulsing hand down the door. Oh god. This was the worst. Not only did your clown of a brother lock you out, but you didn’t even have your phone. You groaned.

In fact that’s what you had ran back for. Your stupid phone that you had left on the windowsill of your room. You sighed, as you backed away from the door.

You hadn’t wanted to go out, or even leave your room. It was a new house, a new neighborhood. There wasn’t really anything you were excited for. Sure, you would be going to a new school in a few days. And sure, maybe going out and meeting new people might make high school more bearable. And, in your defense, you had tried to get to know your neighbor. But, that didn’t turn out as planned.

You could still feel the chilling water, stroking your spine and running down your shirt. You shivered.

“Go away, sis. Mom said too.“ You could hear the loud stomping as he scurried up the stairs. Probably to play video games. Lucky bastard. You huffed, crossing your hands over your chest as you stepped into the chilly air.

It wasn’t cold, or at least nothing she wasn’t used too. It was sunny, the sun streaming into your eyes, blinding you. But, it was windy. And you in a very thin sweater, were not lucky.

“What are you doing outside?“ you turned to side, a black-haired boy gave you a confused look. “In that.“ You huffed, turning your body towards him as he dropped the plastic bags onto his porch.

“I got locked out?“ you chuckled, he gave a lazy smile, “You?“

“Just some errands,“ motioning to the bags, “You wanna come in?“

You nodded appreciatively, walking towards him.

“Uh,“ he fumbled with his keys, “You don’t happen to be new.“ It sounded more like a statement than a question.

You gave him a teasing smile, “No, I’ve just lived under a rock, that’s why you never see me.”

He chuckled.

“New, huh, its an odd time to move,“ he offered, as he finally opened the door, “Ah finally— where did you move from?“

“From Miyagi— Do you need help?” you asked, gesturing for the bags he was carrying, “You’re inviting a stranger in, I might as well help.“

“One, I’m good,“ he said, flexing his muscles, “Two, you’re not a stranger. Not really.“ You smiled.

“Oh, and why is that,“ you batted your lashes. It was odd, you felt comfortable with him. Someone whose name you didn’t know, yet face you recognized.

“What’s your—“

“Kuroo Tetsurou, what in the gods name took you soo long,“ Oh well at least you have a name. He — Kuroo — looked at you sheepishly as he shook of his shoes, bending down to neatly place them to the side. You followed. Lingering as he stalked farther into the house.

“I’m home, pa!“ he shouted out, placing the bags on the table.

You looked around in awe. It was such a neat and tidy house, barley anything was out of place. It was so unlike their own house, boxes still in need of opening, and litters of package paper in random corners of the house.

“Neat.“ you muttered to yourself as you watched Kuroo’s back. Something about him was oddly familiar.

“Tetsurou, did you kidnap someone?“ Kuroo looked at his father incredulously.

“Pa, this is our new neighbor. Y/N,” he motioned to his father, “My dad. Pa, Y/N.” It was a short ,an almost useless introduction. Certainly it was not enough for his father, who peered his eyes at you.

“Aren’t you the little lady, my boy poured water on?“ You gasped. So that’s where you had remembered him from. You whirled around, glaring at him.

“You never told me it was you,“ you accused him, he held his hands up.

“Its not a conversation starter,“ he exclaimed, looking from his disappointing father, to your accusatory glare.

“And throwing water on me is?“ you held your hips looking at him, “I almost got sick because of that.”

He fumbled on his words as he rubbed the base of his neck.

“Well, I made it up to you. My taking you in after you got locked out.“

“That has nothing to do with you pouring water on me.“

“It does!“ You raised your eyebrow, urging him to continue, “Ah,see, I helped you to build your immune system. Every time you almost get sick, your immune system gets stronger. So you can be healthier. It was a very basic study.“

You peered your eyes at the crap.

“Says who,“ you asked.

“Me.“

“Are you a scientist now?“

“No. But,“ he scrunched his eyebrows, looking for a reason, “science is science. No matter who says it.“

“The Earth is flat.“ you said, emotionless. He looked at you like you were the stupidest person in existence. “And the Sun is a planet. Water isn’t a liquid. Plants can—“

“Sorry!“ he screeched, covering his ears at your ridiculousness, “I’m sorry for pouring the water on you. Just stop.”

You grinned at your new found power.

“Are you sure about that,” you said, a playful glint in your eye.

“Yes!” he hissed, uncovering his ears, “Yes!”

“Are you two done?“ You both turned around, remembrance of the old man coming back to you. Blushing, you gave a low bow, apologizing. Good lord, it was your visit and you had already embarrassed yourself.

“Ah, sorry, sir — I mean Mr. Kuroo. Mr Kuroo sir,” you stumbled over your words, flushing harder as both Kuroo and the old man laughed at your antics.

“Don’t worry, L/N, he’s just old.“ he teased his father, who gave him an annoyed glance over, blatantly ignoring his comment. He leaned back in his chair, lifting a newspaper in front of his face, but you had caught the slight grin.

You smiled at that, looking to Kuroo who gave you an odd look.

“Miyagi, you said.“ he hummed thoughtfully, scratching his chin. You looked at him. Why was he thinking of what you had said minutes before, “Are you perhaps from Karasanou?“

“Yes, how did you—“ you gasped, realization hitting you. You had recognized him from, “Are you the one who Tsukishima complains about all the time.”

“Complain?“ he dramatically clutched as his chest, “I taught him the ways of a wise man and he complains about me.“

You rolled your eyes.

“He called you ugly—”

“I’m handsome to a fault.”

“And annoying,”

“I am a saint.”

“And rude.”

“I am always kind.”

You gave him an incredulous look, narrowing your eyes.

“He’s right.” you concluded, “You are annoying.”

“I second that,” the old man called out, as Kuroo turned to him,betrayed.

“Pa, why would you — “

“Sir, how did you deal with all his complaining?” you interrupted him, instead looking at his father.

“He was such a good boy back then.” he sighed, at the thought of Kuroo’s younger days, “So quiet. But, look at him now.”

“All talk, no bite.”

You laughed, as Kuroo glared at him.

“Pa, how could you betray me like that. And to a stranger.” he wiped fake tears from his eyes.

“Stranger?” he raised an brow, “Is that why you talk about her all the time.” You didn’t laugh this time, looking at Kuroo, who looked like he was going to explode.

“Pa!” he shouted, turning away from you, “Stop talking — “

“No, Mr. Kuroo, please do tell.” you grinned mischievously.

“Lets see,” he had propped the paper in his lap as he held five fingers up.

“He talks about pouring water on — “

“Pa.”

“And he talks about you never leaving your room,”

“Pa!”

“And he talks about you singing in — “

“PA!” he shouted, hands waving all over the place, “Stop, please!”

You cackled at his disheveled figure.

Oh this you could get used to.

“No, sir, go on, I want to know about him,” Kuroo whipped around to you a warning sting in his eyes.

Oh you would really love this.

The old man laughed, as he crossed a leg over another, leaning farther into the chair.

“It all started on an uneventful evening — “

“PA!”

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wingsofkpop · 3 years

Text

Hiraeth - I.X: Was it Worth it in the End? Part Two

pairing(s): Hybrid!Im Jaebeom x Reader, Witch!Mark Tuan x Reader, Werewolf!Jackson Wang x Reader, Vampire!Park Jinyoung x Reader, Supernatural!Got7 x Reader

genre: Supernatual!AU, Dark Magic!AU, very heavy Angst, eventual Smut

warnings: Mature language, violence, explicit descriptions of fighting and injury, weapons, blood and gore, brief mention of a mutilated animal corpse, minor character death, description of trauma and mental illness, brief mention of suicide, mentions of murder, satanic themes and ritual, etc.

Trigger Warning: This chapter does contain graphic and explicit themes regarding violence, trauma, and death. Please do not read if this will harm you. This is your final warning.

word count: 10,6k

synopsis: How far are you willing to go to find out the truth about Moon Dye Bay?…

chapter directory

The nighttime is hushed, almost anxious as Minho maneuvers his way past gravestones and overgrown shrubbery. It’s almost like nature itself is too afraid of accidentally provoking the witch, sensing the torpedo of dark magic and violent sorrow stirring through his veins. He peers up at the crimson moon, grateful for the illumination it provides, and continues down his path—ignorant of the cold air bleeding into his flesh.

Minho knows this is probably not the best time for a visit, aware that his ex-covenmates are likely plotting some sort of mission to overthrow him, but he doesn’t care—he can’t care anymore. A part of him, the shameful, guilty part of his mind. actually hopes they will succeed, at least then, he would no longer have to endure the pain that comes with bearing this black magic. He can feel its poison rushing through his veins, seering his body from the inside out, killing his soul over and over and over again…

But isn’t this what he wanted? Revenge? Retribution? Minho performed that spell to hurt the very friends that hurt him—to hurt Mark, and he got his wish… so why does it feel like the world is caving in around him, swallowing him whole?

Once he reaches his destination, Minho collapses to his knees, unable to bear the weight of his burdens. His eyes burn with tears, but he doesn’t allow himself to cry. A silent gust of wind strokes his cheeks, painting his skin red with bitterness and anger. He welcomes the cold air, accepting the punishment, before lifting his hand to splay his fingers against the even colder surface of the headstone.

“I’m sorry…” Minho whimpers, “It didn’t have to be like this…”

The silence heightens his anguish—deepens the wounds in his heart.

If he could take it all back, he would… but he can’t.

“I wish you were here, noona…”

His murmur is lost to the wind, but it doesn’t matter. He climbs back to his feet before sparing one final glance at the burial place of his lost friend. After a deep inhale and a wordless goodbye, Minho turns and hastily begins back toward the mausoleum.

He was allowed this one moment of weakness—now he must get back to the horrible reality he manifested for himself.

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

“Can you be any more obvious…?”

Mark quickly awakens from his mindless trance, discovering, to his dismay, Dahyun looking down at him with a single raised, all-knowing eyebrow. He fakes a cough into his elbow before shrugging his shoulders, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re kidding me, right?... You literally haven’t taken your eyes off of her since we met up in the forest.”

Heat immediately rises to Mark’s cheeks. As if on instinct, his eyes trail back to his subject of interest, watching as you wipe the sweat from Jaebeom’s girlfriend’s forehead and neck before shifting to do the same to Felix. It’s such a simple action, but you somehow look so ethereal—almost like an angel sent from heaven.

He curses himself for his own cheesiness, then releases a defeated sigh.

“We got into a pretty big fight earlier.”

“Then don’t you think you should—I don’t know—talk to her instead of staring her down like a creep?”

“I think the last thing she wants to do is talk to me.” Mark drags a hand through his hair. “I… said some really stupid shit in the heat of the moment. She probably hates me.”

Dahyun scoffs, “God, you are such a fucking idiot.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means you need to get your ass over there and apologize to that girl.”

Her harsh tone doesn’t falter beneath his glare, nor does her tenacious expression as the two proceed with their silent staring contest. After a minute or two, Dahyun breaks off the competition with a long, heavy sigh. Her eyes are soft when she looks back at him, and suddenly Mark finds the dried mud on his shoes a lot more interesting.

“Mark, anyone can see how much you care about her—how much she cares about you.” Even when a gentle hand caresses his shoulder, the witch keeps his attention to the floor. “(Y/N) could never hate you—no matter how much stupid shit you pull.” She snickers, “And you pull a lot of stupid shit, so that has to account for something.”

He can’t help the amused chuckle that falls from his own lips.

“Thanks, Dubu.” Mark says, tilting his head to finally meet the warmth of her gaze.

“She’s a good one—a really good one, Mark.” The wolf hums, “Don’t let it be your fear that pushes her away.” She doesn’t give him a chance to reply further, pacing to a nearby corner to join a conversing Bang Chan and Yugyeom.

Sparing the wolf trio one final glance, Mark musters up the remaining courage he has left and pushes from his perch against the kitchen countertop. He forces himself to walk in your direction—each step releasing more butterflies into the confines of his stomach. Once he reaches you, close enough to touch your turned back, he almost chickens out, content with spending the rest of the night watching you like hawk, but the sound of Felix’s breathy voice locks him in place:

“—Channie-hyung and I have always wanted to go to Chicago… Is-Is it as windy as they say?”

“Even windier.” You say with a laugh. “I can’t tell you how many scarves I lost, and don’t get me started on how freaking cold the winters are.”

Felix laughs too, although it resonates as more of a wheeze than anything.

You shrug, “It’s a gorgeous city though—probably my most favorite place I’ve ever lived.”

“Then why did you leave? If you loved it so much?”

Mark’s interest piques when he notices how your figure grows tense at the young boy’s croak. He’s heard his fair share of stories of your heartfelt time in the Windy City, but he never quite figured out why you ultimately decided to move to Moon Dye Bay. You’ve always been reluctant to reveal certain details from your past, especially regarding your time in the foster system, but even then Mark has been able to pry the worst memories from your brain.

This subject, however, has been a brick wall.

“Because I couldn’t stay.” You finally answer, “It’s complicated, but something happened and basically I—”

“(Y/N)?”

He silently cusses as Felix interrupts your explanation, but his annoyance dissipates at the panicked expression etched along the teenager’s sweaty face.

“What is it, Felix?” You shift your position on his bedside to better face the boy, leaning forward to place a gentle hand on his forehead. Mark can only imagine how hot the skin is to the touch.

Felix’s words crack as they leave his lips, slicing at the witch’s heart like a dagger:

“Am… Am I gonna die?”

“Of course not.” You immediately say, but Mark can sense the uneasiness in your tone. “Everyone is doing everything they can to help you, okay?... You’re gonna get through this, and one day you and your brother are gonna go see Chicago yourselves and try not to get blown away into the next century.”

Felix sleepily chuckles, “Thanks, (Y/N).”

“You should get some sleep.” The moment the command leaves your lips, Felix is already closing his eyes and diving headfirst into dreamland. Not wanting to startle you, Mark waits a couple seconds—partly to give you time to regain your composure, and partly to give himself time to think of what to say. However, he doesn’t have much of a choice when you suddenly turn, growing aware of his presence. A frown overtakes your face, and he instantly regrets ever leaving his countertop.

“Did you need something?”

“No—yes, I mean—shit.” Mark buries a hand in his tresses to tug at his roots, attempting to juggle between putting together the right spoken words and reminding his body to breathe. “(Y/N), I—”

“If you came to apologize, I don’t want to hear it.” He helplessly watches as you rise from the bed before tossing your used rag on a nearby table. “I think you made yourself pretty clear back at my apartment.”

“I shouldn’t have said what I said—” Before you can storm away, Mark latches his fingers around your wrist. “—please. Just give me a chance to explain.”

Your shoulders rise and fall in a heavy sigh, but you make no move to tear away from his grip and he takes it as a chance to continue:

“After my mom died, I was so fucking angry…” Mark notices your surprised gaze when you lift your head, but he doesn’t meet your eyes. “I was angry at the world, at her, at myself… and when my magic began to show up, things got a whole lot worse.” He shakes his head, “I thought about just ending it—jump into the bay or maybe drink myself to death—but then I met…”

“Then you met Jackson.”

“He taught me how to deal with the anger—to use it as a tool, not a weapon.” His eyes begin to burn at the countless memories that reel through his mind. “It was because of him I learned how to control my powers, and I was able to bring the coven together—hell, he was the one who told them to nominate me as Regent, which right now, seemed like the worst fucking decision on the planet.”

Mark takes a moment to blink away his tears before taking a seat on an empty cot. He still can’t find it in himself to glance at your face, keeping his eyes trained to the wooden flooring.

“But when Jackson had an idea, there was no stopping him.” He chuckles sarcastically, “The bastard was as stubborn as a goddamn mule.”

“What happened to Jackson, Mark?” Your voice is both a sweet lullaby and a screeching siren against his ears. “How did he die? Really?”

“The initial plan was to infuse enough magic into Jackson’s werewolf form so his venom would be lethal to the Primes, or at the very least, to Jinyoung. It all went smoothly in the beginning, I was able to channel enough power to complete the transformation… but something went wrong—

“—Jackson was different when he shifted. He was ruthless… He didn’t want to just kill the Primes—he wanted to slaughter every vampire along with those who protect the secrets of their existence… no matter if they were witch, werewolf, human—they all deserved to die…

“The combination of his determination and the bloodlust drove him fucking mad… If Jaebeom hadn’t ripped out his heart, there’s telling what he would have done—who he would have killed…”

Mark leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees, attempting to hide his shame beneath the curl of his bangs. “—Jaebeom may have dealt the final blow, but Jackson died because the dark magic I used turned him into a monster—he’s dead because of me…”

Silence encompasses the room like a vice grip to the throat. For a moment, Mark believes you left him, too disgusted and ashamed to even breathe the same air as him, but the entrance of your worn boots into his vision proves otherwise. The image is replaced by your face when you kneel in front of his broken figure, laying your hands over each bicep. He notices your touch is gentle, but not hesitant, and warm—always so warm.

“You can’t blame yourself for his death, Mark.” Mark doesn’t realize he’s crying until you wipe a tear from his cheek. “How could you have known what that spell would do? You couldn’t have—”

“Magic always comes with price—especially dark magic.” He whispers, unable to hold back more liquid sadness as it trails down his skin. “(Y/N), if I ever lost you the same way I lost Jackson, my mom, I—”

Mark’s voice cuts out into a sob, and once your arms wind around his form, he completely breaks, releasing every ounce of repressed sadness and despair and pain into the crook of your neck. He knows he’s selfish for melting into your embrace—for consuming your comfort like a demon expelled from the heavens—but he doesn’t care.

When you guide his eyes to meet your own, Mark can spot the glassiness of your own orbs in the artificial light—along with enough compassion and ardor to send another flood of tears down his face.

“I’m not going anywhere, okay?” You affirm, your tone unwavering and stern. “I’m here—and no matter how many times you fall, I’m gonna be here to pick you up…

“I’m here, Mark… Do you understand me?”

He nods with a sniffle, tightly squeezing your hands between his own.

“I’m sorry.”

You smile at his apology.

“I’m sorry too… for everything.”

“Just… No more secrets. For real, this time.”

“For real, this time.” Mark’s heart rate picks up when he suddenly notices how close his face is to yours. From this angle, he can count the constellations glistening within your eyes and map the delicate curves of your facial features. If he were to lean just an inch closer, just one tiny inch, his lips would be on your own—

“Sorry to interrupt, but we have an issue.” At Yugyeom’s statement, you and Mark immediately wrench away from one another, almost as if having been caught engaging in forbidden territory. Mark pretends he doesn’t miss the weight of your hands inside his own as he rises from the cot, making sure to put an appropriate amount of distance between his and your shoulders.

He clears his throat before humming, “What’s going on?”

“Chan wants to go and find Chaeyoung’s body.” Although Yugyeom’s face remains neutral, Mark can see the sadness lingering within his eyes at the mention of his fallen packmate. “He doesn’t remember exactly where she was, so him, Dahyun, and I are going to search the forest.”

You immediately shake your head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. Sunrise isn’t for at least another hour, and we have no way of knowing Youngjae broke the curse yet.”

“I’m with (Y/N) on this one, Gyeom.” Mark agrees, “We’re safest here in the bunker.”

“We can’t just leave her out there. I mean, she—” Yugyeom cuts himself off with a heavy sigh, before continuing in a softer tone, “You know how it feels to lose someone, hyung… Chaeyoung is—was… our family.”

Mark takes a moment of silence to ponder, conflicted between his common sense and Yugyeom’s pleading gaze. As you said, sunrise is an hour away—but Youngjae, the coven and the Primes should have overthrown Minho by now, right? Plus, he literally blew Changbin’s head off with that shotgun. There’s no way his body could regenerate that quickly…

“We’re all staying together.” He finally says, moving toward the kitchenette to grab his weapon from its perch on the counter. “And if anything seems shady, it’s an immediate retreat.”

Yugyeom delivers a nod before heading off to gather the other wolves. Mark moves toward the bunker exit, but is stopped by your form. A heavy sigh cascades from his lips—just from your expression, he knows this conversation isn’t going to go his way.

“(Y/N)—”

“If you’re gonna tell me I can’t go with you, don’t even bother.”

He shakes his head, “It’s too dangerous…”

“If someone tells me that one more goddamn time—” He can’t help the tiny smile that spreads across his face at the sassy way you roll your eyes. And he doesn’t protest when you move to follow Dahyun up the ladder.

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

Youngjae inhales a deep breath, taking the moment to feel his lungs expand, before releasing the air in an even deeper exhale. Even with the relaxation attempt, his body remains tense and his thoughts disorderly. He can’t help but feel as if Minho is waiting somewhere in the darkness of the crypt, ready to pounce on him like a predator to its prey.

Would he toy with his catch first? Or would he skip the pleasantries and go right in for the kill?

A hand appears on his shoulder, wrenching Youngjae from his morbid daydream. He angles his head to meet Lia’s concerned gaze and immediately tries to mask his fear beneath an expression of indifference. Unsurprisingly, the female witch sees right through his facade:

“I’ve known you practically my whole life, Youngjae. Whatever it is, you can’t hide it from me.”

His shoulders sag in defeat as a sigh blows past his lips.

“I’m just… worried about Mark-hyung. He’s powerless out there.”

“Mark is smart—he’ll know what to do if he finds himself in trouble.”

“And if he doesn’t?... I-I mean, what if Minho or Changbin found him before he could warn the pack? He could be dead for all we know—”

Lia silences his desperate quip with a shake of her head, “You shouldn’t think like that right now—”

“What else am I supposed to do?” Youngjae runs a frustrated hand through his hair before gesturing toward the main exit of their underground penitentiary. “Even with yours and Jisung’s energy, I don’t have enough power to take down the barrier spell.”

“Help is on the way—”

“How do you know that for sure?”

Lia remains silent, simply continuing to stare at Youngjae. He feels almost uncomfortable beneath her gaze, resisting the urge to shrink back and become one with the shadows.

“I don’t know… but I have faith.” She murmurs after a brief moment. “We’ve lost a lot, but I still believe that we’ll all somehow manage to come out of this alive. You should try doing the same.”

With that, Lia leaves to speak with a dangerously quiet Jisung. Youngjae spares the pair a single glance before heading toward the crypt entryway. A single beam of moonlight illuminates the exit stairway, almost as if mocking him about his inability to escape the dingy prison.

Youngjae knows Lia is right—of course she’s right. Worrying about the possible pitfalls of this plan won’t help him, or Mark, or anyone. He can only pray that his mentor safely found his way out of the cemetery and is sending backup right this very moment.

He needs to have hope, if nothing else.

“What if we somehow lure Minho down here?” Youngjae’s thoughts quiet at Lia’s suggestion, angling his head to meet her gaze. “Technically Youngjae just needs to touch him to siphon his magic… so why don’t we bring him to us?”

“Minho-hyung won’t step past the barrier.” Jisung dissents, dragging his fingers through his already tousled hair. “He probably knows we’re planning something against him, so there’s no way he’ll believe whatever ruse we try to pull.”

“Then we have no choice. Youngjae, are you sure you can’t take down the spell?”

Youngjae sullenly shakes his head.

“Is there something else you can siphon? Maybe the crypt itself?”

“The crypt was built by humans.” He answers, “I can only draw power from the supernatural—”

“Then it’s a good thing my dear brother and I weren’t turned into superwolf bait.”

Youngjae, along with the other witches, nearly leaps a foot in the air at the sudden voice. He whirls around to face the stairwell, which to his surprise, is now occupied by the last person he ever expected to see:

Im Jaebeom.

Jisung chokes, scurrying backward into the shadows as the hybrid approaches the trio. After taking purchase against the doorway, he offers his signature sly smirk.

“Evening, Harry Potter and friends… Funny meeting you down here.”

“Now is not the time for games, hyung.” Youngjae breathes a sigh of relief as Jinyoung’s voice echoes throughout the stone walls. Seconds later, he comes hustling down the staircase before shoving Jaebeom out of the way. The vampire then peers into the crypt, his gaze burning with the determination of a man at war. “Is anyone hurt?”

“No. We’re okay.” Lia steps forward. “If you’re here, I’m guessing Mark reached the wolf pack?”

“Your guess is correct.” Jinyoung nods, placing a hand against the invisible doorway. “My brother and I will do everything we can to help disarm the rogue, but I think it’d be best to free you all first.”

Youngjae joins the conversation. “I can take down the barrier spell, but I’ll need to draw energy from one of you to do so.”

“Let’s do this quickly then.” Jinyoung goes to roll up the sleeve of his white shirt, but is halted by his immortal companion. Surprise filters through Youngjae’s veins as Jaebeom shrugs the leather jacket from his shoulders with a huff:

“With my luck, he’ll drain you dry and I’ll have to deal with this voodoo fucker myself. I think it’s best we use my energy—sorry not sorry.”

“Alright, then.” Youngjae hums, “I’ll need you to push through the barrier just enough that I can touch you… It’s gonna hurt. A lot.”

“Good thing I’m a sadomasochist.” Jaebeom snickers at his brother’s unamused expression, “Too much?”

“Move your hand through that goddamn barrier before I throw you to the superwolf myself.”

The hybrid rolls his eyes, but follows Jinyoung’s instructions and proceeds to force his limb past the invisible blockade. He remains silent, but Youngjae can spy the uncomfortable twitch of his eyebrow and the tension along his stone-cold features. Blood begins to bud along his knuckles like a patch of blooming roses before flowing down his pale skin the more he presses against the barrier.

The siphoner raises his hand in preparation. “Just a bit more.”

A mere couple seconds later, Youngjae feels Jaebeom’s bloody flesh brush against his own. The skin-to-skin contact is slight, but enough, allowing the hybrid’s energy to spread through his veins like wildfire. Youngjae almost cries in relief as the magic conquers his entire body—a new kind of hope sparking somewhere within his chest.

“Phasmatos Siprum… Emnis Abortum…” Youngjae murmurs, positioning both hands against the invisible wall. He feels it crumbling beneath his fingertips, unable to withstand the power flowing through his figure. “Fasila Quisa Exilum San… Fasila Quisa Exilum San…”

A proud grin stretches along his features as the barrier buckles, then completely shatters. With Lia and Jisung in tow, Youngjae beelines out of the crypt and into the stairwell where Jaebeom, who’s cleaning the crimson from his knuckles, and Jinyoung reside. The latter nods, which Youngjae is quick to return.

“‘Kay, they’re free… Now what?”

“Now we find Minho and end this once and for all.” Lia answers, not sparing the hybrid a glance as she dashes up the stairs. Youngjae and the rest of the group try to keep up with the female witch as best as they can, not faltering until they reach the surface. The cemetery is quiet when they emerge from the crypt, Youngjae notices—almost too quiet.

He takes a short moment to breathe in the fresh night air before turning to a tense Jinyoung, “I need to get close enough to siphon Minho’s magic to perform the counterspell. You think you and your brother can find me a way in?”

Jinyoung nods. “You can count on us.”

“Stay close…” Lia warns with a sigh, “I wouldn’t be surprised if the bastard already knows we’re free—”

Lightning suddenly strikes a mere few feet from where Lia is standing, earning a chorus of screams and surprised gasps from the witch trio. Youngjae watches as Jinyoung speeds forward, grabbing Lia just in time to avoid being burnt to a crisp by a second bolt. With Jisung at his side, Youngjae quickly takes shelter underneath the overhang of a nearby tomb as even more lightning bombards the earth. He surveys the area, searching for the perpetrator responsible for the weather abnormalities.

“Minho!...” Lia screeches from behind a large tree, her tone far less than friendly. “Quit being a fucking coward! Come out here and face us goddamnit!...”

Youngjae huddles closer to Jisung as the wind suddenly picks up, ripping at his hair and clothing like a vengeful spirit. He moves to speak to his younger companion, but his words die on his tongue as the subject of the hour waltzes into view. The heavy gusts don’t seem to affect him, though that’s no surprise since the wretched weather is his doing.

Minho smirks, “They say lightning never strikes one place twice… You must be really special then, Lia.”

“Oh fuck off! We’re tired of playing your stupid games!”

“This only ends one way, Minho—” Jinyoung says, cautiously moving from Lia’s side to approach the powerful witch. His steps, however, are halted by another vicious bolt of electricity. Youngjae attempts to make out Jaebeom’s form through the blurriness of his wind-induced tears, but the hybrid is nowhere to be found. “—so we can do it the easy way, or the hard way! The choice is yours!”

“Last I checked, this isn’t your fight, Prime.”

“It became my fight the moment you threatened my family and my friends!”

Minho snickers, “Trust me, I had every intention of ridding this town of you and your brother’s filth.”

“Was it also your intention to kill an innocent werewolf girl!?” Youngjae’s heart drops at the vampire’s following statement. “Son Chaeyoung is dead because of Changbin—because of you!”

“Every war has its casualties.”

“And what of Felix!? Will his death just be another trivial loss in your obsession for revenge!?”

This time, Youngjae notices the cockiness melt from Minho’s features into something akin to trepidation. The wailing of the wind picks up to a screech, nearly drowning out the dark-haired witch’s weak inquiry, “What are you talking about?”

“Felix was bitten… and is dying as we speak!” Jinyoung shakes his head frantically. “Do you believe he deserves this, Minho!? Do you believe Chaeyoung deserved to die!?... You can fix this—make this right!”

Minho remains silent, and for a moment, Youngjae wonders if the witch will actually come to his senses and call off this whole ordeal. But just as soon as it appeared, the pained look along his features transitions into something more sinister.

“We’re all gonna die someday, so what does it even fucking matter!?”

“Are you hearing yourself!?” Lia screams from behind a nearby tree, “Look what you’ve become, Minho! How would Nayeon see you right now!”

“Don’t bring her into this!” Minho’s hiss blends with the moans of the wind. Massive raindrops begin to pelt down against the earth, immediately soaking Youngjae to the bone. For the first time, he notices the dark witch’s position in relation to his own. Realistically, Youngjae can be at Minho’s side in mere milliseconds, before he has a chance to blink. If only he can get him to move a bit closer…

As if reading his thoughts, Jinyoung attempts to coax the witch another step forward.

“Please, Minho… I don’t wish to hurt you.”

The latter shakes his head with a chuckle. “It’s too fucking bad that you think you can.”

Minho raises his hand, harshly forcing the vampire down against the muddy earth. Youngjae watches in horror as Jinyoung’s limbs begin to contort and rearrange against his own will—the sound of cracking bones and the vampire’s pained groans filling his ears like a haunting melody. He forces his gaze away from the gruesome sight and prepares to advance on the dark witch, but Jisung stops him with a hand to his shoulder:

“Not yet, hyung.”

“But Jinyoung—”

“Trust me.” His eyes are wide with determination—Youngjae can’t remember a time he’s ever seen Jisung so fierce. “I have a plan. Wait here until my signal.”

Though filled with confusion, Youngjae does as the young witch requests and stays in place while Jisung himself carefully maneuvers his way through gravestones and buildings, attempting to remain out of sight. A sudden burst of lightning cracks through the atmosphere, and at first, Youngjae fears Jisung has been caught, but quickly realizes Minho has his sights set on another party:

“I was wondering when you’d join the fun—I looked forward to tearing your bitch-ass apart.”

“I would say I’m flattered, but I rather like my ass.” Jaebeom saunters across a nearby rooftop. In the midst of the storm, he almost reminds Youngjae of a superhero—or more likely in his case, the psychotic supervillain. “Look, you’ve had your fun, kid. Now I suggest you release my brother and cut out all this petty-teenage bullshit before I break your body in places you never thought possible.”

“That’s it?... And here I thought you’d want the antidote?”

Jaebeom’s face darkens.

“...So there is a cure?”

“Of course. Every spell has its loophole.” Minho finally lowers his hand, ceasing the painful reconstruction of Jinyoung’s skeleton. Youngjae watches in confusion as the former retracts something from his pocket—some sort of vial, it seems—and offers it toward the hybrid. “The blood which Changbin drank to turn—it’ll heal anyone fallen victim to his bite.”

“You better hand that over before I rip your teeth from your skull.” Jaebeom growls darkly, hopping down from his overhead perch.

The witch shakes his head, “Not so fast, Mr. Wolf… See, there was only so much left—enough to heal one lucky soul.”

“You’re a sick fucking bastard,” Jaebeom spits. “You wanted this to happen—”

“Your little bloodsucking girlfriend is dying, isn’t she?” Minho tosses the vial toward the hybrid, who effortlessly catches it between two trembling fingers. “If you want to save her life, then I suggest you go before the venom does its job.”

“Jaebeom-hyung, don’t—!” Jinyoung gasps, slithering across the muddy earth like an earthworm lost to the world.

“You know she doesn’t have much time—”

“We can’t do this without you—we need you!... I need you, hyung!”

Jaebeom, staring at the tiny container in his grasp, doesn’t reply to his incapacitated companion. Youngjae curses the smirk that spreads across Minho’s face—a sign of victory—and attempts to spot Jisung and Lia somewhere between the ferocious raindrops. He has no such luck, and instead decides to pray for a miracle instead.

“If you hadn’t fucked around with the few people I care about, I might have actually liked you.” Jaebeom murmurs with a sigh before tucking the vial into his pocket and sending the dark witch a malicious sneer. “Well isn’t that too fucking bad.”

Youngjae leaps almost ten feet in the air as lightning strikes for what seems like the millionth time, although this time, it’s inches from where Minho is standing. After searching the area, Youngjae discovers Lia and Jisung across the way, hands clasped, eyes bright with passion, uttering some sort of offensive charm. Minho attempts to sprint in the opposite direction, but Jaebeom easily tackles the witch before he can get far.

“Now Youngjae-hyung! Do it now!”

At Jisung’s cue, Youngjae takes off into the rain. The bitter feel of Mother Nature’s tears against his skin quickens his movements, wanting nothing more then to end this hurricane, both literally and figuratively, once and for all. He reaches Minho in what seems like hours and hurries to grab his wrist—but just like the tides during a storm, the tables quickly turn.

At the wave of Minho’s hand, Jaebeom goes flying across the cemetery, crashing into a stone statue and collapsing into the resulting rumble. White-hot pain spreads through Youngjae’s veins like a poison, freezing his muscles and immobilizing his limbs from any further movement. He collapses to the ground, where mud immediately clings to his clothing.

Minho rises to his feet before stepping on Youngjae’s hand with a cackle, “Don’t you fuckers get it!? I’m untouchable! You can’t fucking win!”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Minho…” Youngjae chuckles, curling his fingers around the tread of the dark witch’s boot. Minho realizes his mistake as soon as the former’s hand begins to glow, foolishly attempting to squirm from his touch.

Thunder roars in the distance as Youngjae grins in triumph:

“Because unlike you… we’re not alone.”

The last thing Youngjae sees before he loses consciousness is a flash of white and the bewildered face of the dark witch as he collapses beside him.

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

“I take it Mark apologized?...” You nearly leap out of your own skin at the sudden inquiry. With a less than agitated frown, you turn to acknowledge the culprit for your almost heart attack. If you didn’t know any better, you’d swear some of these supernaturals have powers of teleportation or something…

“Goddamnit, Dahyun. Not all of us have superwolf hearing.”

“Sorry, dearie. Force of habit.” The she-wolf offers an apologetic smile, moving forward to hook her arm with your own. She allows Yugyeom, Chan and Mark to gain a bit of distance ahead before repeating again, “So Mark…?”

“We both talked it out and apologized… so everything’s okay now.” You hum—the tiny fib leaving a bitter taste in your mouth.

Truthfully, your encounter with Mark left you conflicted. Of course, you’re more than glad he finally opened up about his past, and even more glad that he trusts you enough to reveal his lingering feelings of trauma, but there’s still a pretty big fucking elephant in the room—one involving his dead best friend and the fact you can talk to him beyond the grave.

You should have told him then and there—right after you promised to abolish all secrets—but something inside you couldn’t do it… and you don’t know why.

“Why are you so interested in Mark and I’s relationship anyway?” You utilize your curiosity as a distraction from the guilt breathing down your neck, angling your neck to peer at Dahyun’s side profile. “Is there… history between you two?”

“No, no—nothing like that. Mark and I have just known each other since we were kids. Our moms were close friends, so Mark, Yugyeom and I pretty much grew up together.”

“He never told me that.”

“Don’t take it personal, sweetheart. Mark doesn’t like to talk about his past—” Dahyun sighs, “—too many bad memories between his dad and the bullshit that happened with his mom. He’ll come around eventually… he just needs more time.”

“I know his mom passed when he was a teenager, but Mark never actually mentioned how she died…” You bite your lip, sending a curious glance to your wolf companion. “It’s really not fair to ask you, but—”

“Mark found her in their own kitchen with her entire throat ripped open.” Dahyun’s blunt answer leaves your throat dry, unable to speak another word if you wanted to. “The sheriff ruled it as an animal attack, but I’m sure you’re smart enough to figure out what really happened.”

Your heart sinks, and you choose not to say anything further.

“Dahyun! (Y/N)! Don’t get too far behind!” Chan’s voice echoes from somewhere up ahead. With the black of night beginning to fade, you can just make out his, Yugyeom, and Mark’s silhouettes a couple dozen feet away. Dahyun gives your forearm a gentle squeeze before releasing your conjoined limbs to catch up with her packmates. You do the same, meeting an armed Mark about halfway.

His eyes glitter with concern underneath the fading starlight.

“Everything okay…?”

“Yeah, Dahyun and I were just catching up.” You inhale a deep breath before releasing it in an even heavier exhale. “But there is something I need to talk to you about—about Jackson and the whole resurrection thing.”

Mark shakes his head, “You have every right to make your own decisions, (Y/N), but I wish you and Youngjae would have come to me.”

“I know that, but it was more complicated than that—” You try to gather your thoughts while also attempting to make sense of your words. “I couldn’t tell you because, well—because Jackson told—”

“Mark-hyung! We’ve got an issue!” Yugyeom’s warning immediately cuts off your explanation. Mark shoots you an apologetic glance before hurrying the two of you forward to join the wolf trio. It only takes seconds for you to distinguish the cause of the beta’s distress.

A deer carcass lays precariously on the forest floor, and albeit it’s practically torn to shreds, you can just make out a single word carved into its bloody flesh:

Die.

“Shit—we need to go. Now.”

“We’ve already come this far. Chae should be around here somewhere.” Chan ignores Mark’s directive, stepping over the animal corpse to traverse further through the forest. He barely takes a step before the witch is grabbing his wrist. “Let me go, hyung.”

“Don’t be an idiot.”

“Don’t tell me what to—”

“Shut the fuck up. Both of you.” Dahyun quietly hisses, “Listen.”

You try to do as the she-wolf says, but all that meets your ears is the combination of your own labored breathing and uneven pulse. Judging by the confused expression along Mark’s face, he’s probably dealing with the same situation.

“What is it?”

“We’re being watched.” Yugyeom answers Mark’s inquiry in a whisper. “Mark, you and (Y/N) need to find somewhere to hide right now—Chan, Dubu, get ready to fight—”

As soon as the command leaves Yugyeom’s lips, Mark takes you by the arm and drags you behind a broad tree trunk. You fish Jinyoung’s pocket knife from your pocket while Mark cocks his shotgun in preparation. Who knew the day would come that you’d actually be grateful for the presence of two dangerous weapons…

“If anything goes wrong—you run like hell, got it?”

You shake your head at Mark’s demand. “I’m not just going to leave you—”

“Yugyeom! Above you!” At Chan’s warning, you’re suddenly shoved to the ground by the witch, watching in horror as a deranged Changbin descends from the treetops onto the beta himself. His skin is a sickly ashen shade, and his black veins so prominent it would make a nurse weep. There’s no human emotion left inside his dark eyes as he strikes Yugyeom over and over again with his lengthy sharp talons, tearing open his skin like a birthday present—he’s a complete animal.

“Bin, stop!” Chan throws his arms around Changbin’s shoulders in an attempt to pull him from Yugyeom, winding a tight arm around his throat before thrusting a knee against his spine. “Think about what you’re doing!”

With Dahyun’s assistance, the two wolves manage to separate the dark wolf from that of Yugyeom’s wounded self. Even so, Changbin clearly does not appreciate being stolen away from his prey. He easily escapes from Chan’s hold, landing a couple heavy hits against the latter’s nose before shoving him to the ground. Dahyun takes the moment to strike, bringing the dark wolf to kneel with a harsh kick to his knee, but the action does minimal damage. Changbin punts the she-wolf a dozen feet away as if she weighs nothing. You wince as Dahyun connects with a nearby tree trunk with a vocal thud before dropping to the ground with no movements of rejoining the fight.

“Shit…” You curse to yourself, “They won’t be able to take him down by themselves—he’s too fucking strong.”

“Watch your ears.” You notice Mark aiming his gun toward the dark wolf, waiting for an opportunity with his finger on the trigger. At his discretion, you cover your ears just in time for him to fire a first and second shot. A ferocious growl echoes through the trees, spreading goosebumps across your flesh like wildfire.

You watch both Chan and Yugyeom take advantage of Changbin’s distraction. The alpha delivers a swift, yet heavy hit against his wounded shoulder while the beta goes for his legs. Similar to Dahyun, they manage to pin Changbin to the forest floor. For a moment, you almost believe the fight has concluded in your team’s favor—but the tides shift. In the blink of an eye, Chan is impaled with a large jagged branch and sent tumbling into some foliage whereas Yugyeom is dealt punch after strike after kick, unable to escape the barrage of Changbin’s wrath. He eventually, like the former two, collapses to the earth and makes no move to rise.

Changbin cracks his neck before stalking toward where you and your companion stand.

“Mark—”

“I got it!” Mark quickly feeds another couple shells into the shotgun barrel, cocks the weapon, then aims down sight. He manages to sink a bullet into your target’s abdomen, followed by another in his bicep, but Changbin merely releases an annoyed snarl and continues charging forward.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—(Y/N), move!” You leap out of the way just in time to avoid a powerful strike. Changbin’s hand splinters the trunk of the tree, sending pieces of bark in every direction. A particular shard catches the bridge of your nose, causing blood to warmly cascade down your skin. You quickly wipe the liquid from your right eye, ignoring the nausea fluttering inside your gut, before focusing back on the situation at hand.

You look up in time to watch Mark swing his shotgun harshly against Changbin’s skull. Taking advantage of his disorientation, you rush forward to stab your pocket knife into the wolf’s back. Changbin practically roars in fury, angling backward to land a hit to your face before you have time to react. The force of his strike throws you to the ground, a sharp pain lingering in your left cheek.

“Don’t fucking touch her!” Mark throws himself against Changbin, delivering hit after hit to anything and anywhere. Still, Mark’s human strength does little to outbeat the dark wolf, and you watch in horror as Changbin effortlessly pins the witch against his chest with a bloody hand around his throat. You desperately search for something, anything, in hopes of saving Mark from whatever deadly fate awaits Changbin’s bloodlust, but fate doesn’t seem to be on your side.

“Changbin—please don’t do this!” You cry, praying to some type of deity that the wolf is sane enough to understand your words. Even so, your confidence is low, seeing as talking clearly had no effect during your last encounter, but you’re fresh out of options at this point. “You know this isn’t who you are!”

To your surprise, Changbin actually answers, “You don’t know anything about me.”

“Maybe not, but I know you don’t actually want to hurt anyone…” You cautiously rise to your feet with a shake of your head, wary of the tight hold Changbin currently has on Mark’s jugular. “Your thoughts are all sorts of fucked up right now because of the dark magic, so why don’t you just let Mark go and we can—”

“Don’t you fucking get it! This fucker—” He yanks at Mark with more force than necessary, “—took everything from me! He took my pack, my alpha—the only people I ever felt safe with!”

“I understand you—”

“No, you don’t!” Changbin wails, “You can’t even imagine how I feel! How fucking hard it is to wake up in a world you know you’ll never belong! How much it fucking hurts just to go on and pretend like everything’s normal when it’s fucking not!”

“Tell him it’s okay to feel angry—” You whirl your head around to find a seemingly exhausted, yet wild-eyed Jackson Wang at your side. “—but none of this was Mark’s fault.”

You’re mortified at first, having never encountered the ghost anywhere outside your bedroom—but whether it’s the desperation etched along his features, or the flush of purple that overtakes Mark’s complexion—you quickly transfer back to reality:

“Changbin, it’s perfectly normal to feel angry and cheated, but this wasn’t Mark’s fault—deep down, I think you know that.”

“What does it fucking matter anymore? I’m all alone anyways.” The pure agony etched along his face has your heart splitting in two.

You’ve never seen a creature so strong and so powerful look so… vulnerable.

“You said the exact same thing to me when we first met…” Jackson murmurs softly.

“You told Jackson you were alone at one point too…”

An obvious wave of tense silence washes through the forest, making the beat of your heart that much more prominent in your ears.

Changbin’s whisper is dark—dangerous. “How the fuck do you know that?”

“Because… Because he’s here, Changbin.” You say, your eyes meeting Mark’s as the words leave your tongue. “You’re not alone because Jackson is still here.”

You don’t know what kind of reaction you expected from your revelation, but it certainly is not the heinous laughter that spills from the dark wolf’s lips.

“You must have lost your goddamn mind… Jackson-hyung is dead!”

“Maybe physically, but his spirit still remains.”

“You mean—” You turn to discover a bewildered Yugyeom unsteadily leaning against a tree, “—his… ghost? You—You can see his ghost?”

You nod.

Changbin sneers with a low growl. “I don’t fucking believe you.”

“There’s a cliffside back along the bay about twenty miles from the lodge,” Jackson begins, his tone a blend of nostalgic and sorrowful. “Changbin and I used to go there to watch the full moon rise before we turned into our wolf forms… I-I’ve missed that so much…”

“You and Jackson would always watch the full moon rise on a cliff overlooking the bay before you transitioned,” You repeat. “He says he misses those moments with you…”

“Stop it!” Changbin frantically shakes his head, “You’re lying!”

“He’s here, Changbin… He’s really here.” You move forward again, more confidently this time, and raise your hands in a sympathetic gesture. “And the last thing he wants is for you to make the same mistakes he did, so please—let Mark go and let us help you…”

It’s as if time freezes for a moment. Changbin seems to fight a battle with himself—countless emotions rushing through his teary eyes. You watch the dark wolf glance toward an unconscious Dahyun and Chan, then to a silent Yugyeom, before finally setting his focus back to you. You can only pray your face reflects the hope swirling throughout your veins—pray that Changbin will do the right thing.

To your delight, the blackness of his veins gradually begin to fade and the sharp claws protruding from his fingertips recede. You don’t realize you’ve been holding your breath until Changbin finally retracts his hold from Mark’s neck. You’re quick to take the unsteady witch in your own arms before sending the now normal wolf a thankful smile.

“Thank you, Changbin…”

He nods shyly before wiping a couple tears from his cheeks. You watch as Yugyeom cautiously makes his way toward the younger boy, murmurs something, then tugs the latter into a tight embrace that pulls even more liquid sadness from his eyes. The sight has your heart melting into a puddle of warmth—the emotion doesn’t last though, not when Mark’s dark croak enters your ears:

“You… can see Jackson…”

You shrug sheepishly, “I wanted to tell you, but he said not to… He didn’t want to hurt you anymore than he already had.”

Mark remains silent. You try to search for his features for some kind of anger or disappointment, but are only awarded with his surface level blank stare. Worry flooding through your veins, you look to Jackson for any possible guidance, but the ghost merely shakes his head.

After a couple tense seconds or so, Mark finally murmurs, “Jack… I—I’m so sorry. For everything.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” Jackson says immediately, “If only I had listened to you, then maybe things would have played out different.”

“He says it wasn’t your fault—he should have listened to you.”

“We both made some pretty shitty mistakes.” Mark hums, “I miss you, man. So fucking much.”

You don’t wait for Jackson to reply, already knowing his answer.

“He misses you too, Mark. Just as much.”

“How is this even possible…?” You and Mark turn to find the shocked gaze of Yugyeom, who is closely followed by the despair of that belonging to Changbin. “Supernaturals can’t even see spirits, much less mortals…”

“We never exactly figured that out. Jackson said he felt drawn to me from the Other Side—he kind of just showed up in my bedroom the night after Mina and Momo died.”

“Any contact with the dead usually requires some sort of spell or medium.” Mark bites his lip in confusion. “I’ve never seen anything like this before, not even in any of my mother’s grimoires—”

“Jackson!” Your body grows rigid as Jackson suddenly collapses to the ground with a pained groan. You hurry forward, kneeling next to the man, and reach for his shoulder. The realization of his phantom existence hits you like a bag of bricks when your fingers phase through his form. You settle for calling his name again instead, “Jackson—what’s wrong?”

“What the hell is going on?” You hear Changbin stress from somewhere behind you, but your focus is completely on the ghost in question.

Jackson lifts his head with a gasp, revealing a line of blood dripping from his nose. “I-It’s the witches!... They know about our plans—they’re trying to force me back to the Other Side—”

“(Y/N)?”

You shake your head feverishly, “It’s, uh, it’s the witches on the Other Side—they don’t like Jackson crossing over, so they’re trying to bring him back…”

Mark nods. “Witches, dead or alive, will do anything to maintain the balance of nature.”

“(Y/N)—shit—I don’t have a lot of time—” Your chest tightens at the urgency behind Jackson’s words. “I know so much just went down, but—”

“Don’t worry, Jack. I won’t let you disappear again.” You affirm before climbing to your feet to face your new subject of interest. “Mark—I need you to perform the resurrection spell.”

“Woah, wait—” Mark shakes his head, “(Y/N), I can’ t—”

“If we don’t resurrect him now, then Jackson is gone forever!” Your warning spreads a new tension across the atmosphere, manifesting in the form of sullen and panicked expressions. “Please, Mark—we have a chance to bring him back!”

“I can’t do the spell because I don’t have any magic…” Your heart sinks at Mark’s revelation. “Minho absorbed all my magical energy back at the graveyard… I’m so sorry, Jackson…”

“Hold on, you told me that there’s different types of magic…” You push, “Can’t you draw energy from something? Like the forest, or the moon, or, or—”

“Or me.” You turn, discovering the speaker of the response to be none other than a determined Changbin. “Minho-hyung’s spell may be gone, but I can still feel the magical energy lingering through my body.”

Mark hesitates, “I-I don’t know if it will work… and if something goes wrong—”

“Do you want Jackson-hyung back or not?...”

A moment of silence passes after Changbin’s question. You keep an eye on a repeatedly wincing Jackson, and the other on the witch’s face, attempting to decipher his thoughts inside the glow of his gaze. For a moment, you wonder if Mark will even provide an answer, until the words finally leave his lips:

“Fuck the balance of nature. I’ll bring you back, Jackson—I promise.”

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

Jinyoung stares at the sun as it gradually rises past the horizon, bathing his skin in a warm, celebratory light. His gaze wavers across the cemetery to the notorious mausoleum, where he watches Lia and Jisung carefully assist a barely conscious Youngjae past the doorway. After this crazy night, the siphoner definitely deserves a good, long rest. Then again, so does everyone else.

He releases a heavy sigh before shifting away from the witch trio. After sparing one final glance to the sunrise, Jinyoung allows his feet to carry him through the early morning glow, past countless tombstones and other structures, and settles beside a second figure in front of a particular burial site. He silently reads the engravings along the headstone before addressing his companion without so much as a glimpse:

“I assumed you would be halfway back to the bunker by now.”

Jaebeom doesn’t respond, not that Jinyoung really expects him to. He peers at the hybrid through the corner of his eye, attempting to seek meaning beyond his blank features. Centuries later, Jinyoung still can’t predict the workings of Jaebeom’s inner thoughts. Especially when it comes to the situation at hand.

“Mark called. Changbin is no longer affected by Minho’s spell.” He explains, “They’re also preparing a ritual to resurrect Jackson Wang—”

“Tzuyu…?”

Jinyoung’s chest tightens as the name falls from Jaebeom’s lips.

“Their youngest, Ryujin, is looking after both her and Felix.”

“So she’s still alive…?”

“It seems so.”

A brief moment of silence passes between the pair. The earth grows brighter and brighter as the seconds roll by, reminding Jinyoung that time is a friend to no one.

“Hyung, did you… truly switch off your humanity?”

“I did, at first.” Jaebeom’s answer is quiet, and Jinyoung can detect the subtle hint of vulnerability hidden beneath his gruff tone. “But I guess I can never completely turn it off.”

“It’s alright to feel, hyung—be it anger… or passion… or fear…”

Jinyoung notices Jaebeom shift uncomfortably before glancing down at the glass vial in the palm of his hand. For once, he can actually distinguish the emotions present within the hybrid’s dark eyes. The knowledge only jabs at his heart.

“Everything is taken care of, right?”

“The night has ended, and Minho is safely sealed away in the crypt.” Jinyoung nods, “We live to see another day.”

He watches his companion tuck the precious vial into the pocket of his jeans before turning away from the headstone. Jinyoung is not sure where the urge comes from, but he abandons his perch, grabbing Jaebeom’s shoulder before he can leave the cemetery. He ignores the hybrid’s confused expression and pulls him into a tight embrace.

“Thank you for staying, hyung…” Jinyoung’s murmur is slightly muffled against the fabric of his jacket, but he knows his companion heard them loud and clear.

Jaebeom hesitates for a moment, clearly taken aback by the sudden act, but eventually winds his arms loosely around Jinyoung’s back with a gentle murmur of his own:

“You will always be my family, Jinyoung… Always and forever…”

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

“I’ve never used magic like this before, so I can’t promise this will work.” Mark glances to where he assumes Jackson’s spirit is located inside the white circle makeshifted out of a bag of flour Dahyun managed to find in a bunker cabinet, before glancing to the companion at his side. “You sure you’re up for this? It’ll feel like I’m literally sucking the life force out of your body…”

Changbin nods, “If it means bringing Jackson-hyung back.”

“Okay, then.” Mark turns to the surrounding crowd next, “In order to do this, I’ll need to lower the veil to the Other Side. This will create a temporary door that Jackson can pass through to physically enter our realm. Once he crosses over, he should become mortal again.”

“Seems easy enough.” Dahyun snickers, although the sound is dry and forced. “Anything else we need to know?”

“Whatever happens, do not enter the circle.” His eyes drift from the she-wolf to your silent form. As if sensing the scrutiny, your gaze connects with his own, and knowing he has your attention, Mark continues in a darker tone, “Just as spirits can pass into our realm, we can cross to the Other Side… so for the love of god, don’t do anything stupid.”

Your and Mark’s staring contest ceases when your head snapes toward the circle. Seconds later, you break the tense silence with a soft murmur, “Jackson says it’s getting worse. He can feel the witches trying to drag him back.”

“Then I guess that’s our cue.” He sighs before nodding toward the circle one last time, “I’m gonna do my best, Jack. Just hold on.”

With one final glance to the grimoire you gave him earlier, Mark inhales a deep breath and takes Changbin’s outstretched hand into his own. He closes his eyes, focusing every part of his brain on the electrifying sensation of the magical energy coursing through the wolf’s body. Bit by bit, he feels Changbin’s power bleeding into his own veins, awakening the slumbering supernatural nature of his soul. Once he’s sure enough he’s acquired enough magic, Mark opens his eyes and begins the incantation:

“Vita mortem, mortem vita est… Partis inferioris velum, partis inferioris ante illum vetum…” Almost instantly, the wind picks up while the air grows uncomfortably cold. He ignores the violent shivers wracking through his limbs and proceeds to repeat the words as the temperature continues to drop. With each spoken syllable, Mark’s head becomes dizzy and his flesh feels as if it’s being scorched off, but he continues.

No amount of pain could ever dull the hope of seeing his best friend alive once more.

“Holy shit—it’s actually working!”

Mark doesn’t realize he had shut his eyes until he opens them, nearly yelping in delight when he discovers the image of said friend standing in the center of the white circle. Jackson looks no different than the day he last saw him, and he can’t decide if he wants to laugh out of irony or burst into tears.

“The veil is down! I’m gonna start the spell to cross you over!” Mark yells over the howling of the wind, clutching Changbin’s hand tighter as he transitions to the next phase of the spell. “Ohto eestanay as vazat esvet ohnaz eespalit… Ohto eestanay as vazat esvet—fuck!”

A brutal force comes down against his head, almost resembling that of a punch, before spreading hot fire down his neck and to the rest of his body. Mark doubles over with a wheeze, attempting to fight against the painful sensations by grounding himself in Changbin’s touch. However, as soon as the first wave concludes, a second, even more excruciating one follows. He feels as if someone is trying to crush his brain—to kill him from the inside out.

“Mark-hyung! What’s wrong!?”

“It’s the witches!...” Mark is thankful that Jackson answers Yugyeom’s panicked inquiry, “They’re trying to break the spell!”

“Like… hell they will…” Mark hisses, righting himself with a pained groan before grabbing Changbin’s other hand. “I’m not going down without a fight—hold on!...”

He jumps back into the spell, weakening the manipulated pain through the absorption of more of the wolf’s energy. Borderline high off the power, he pushes everything he has into the ritual, determined to see it through to the end. After a minute that passes like a decade, Mark detects a shift in the atmosphere, indicating the near completion of the spell, and shouts:

“Jackson—get out of the circle! Get out now!”

As if in slow motion, Mark watches Jackson quickly move to escape the white border. But just as soon as his toe brushes the edge, he is wrenched away and lifted from the ground.

Dahyun cries, “What the hell is happening!?”

“They won’t let me cross over!” Jackson squirms and writhes, attempting to escape whatever invisible grip is holding him hostage. His efforts are futile, and he continues to rise higher and higher off of the ground.

“Hang on, Jack!” Mark releases Changbin’s hands and raises his own palms in Jackson’s direction. However, the same torturous pain from before returns once more, hitting his nerves like a sledgehammer to a brick wall, and throws him to the earth. “Shit—no! H-He has to pass through the circle!”

“(Y/N)! Don’t!”

Mark raises his gaze at Dahyun’s shriek, only to watch in horror as you rush past the flour boundary and grab hold of Jackson’s hand. A blinding light immediately erupts from your clasped palms, expanding through the area until all Mark can see is white.

After a long moment, his vision eventually returns, and he finds the forest completely silent. The temperature is no longer frigid, he notices, and the strain within his brain is gone. For a moment, Mark is filled with prowess, victorious at the fact he successfully carried out an ancient resurrection ritual, however, his triumph is temporary, especially when he notices your form laid motionless in Dahyun’s arms.

“(Y/N)—fuck!” Mark hurries to where you lay, stealing your figure from the she-wolf to cradle you in his own hold. “Shit, shit, shit—she’s not breathing! Fucking goddamnit!”

His panic only grows tenfold when he hears the murmur cascade from Dahyun’s lips:

“Mark… where’s Jackson?”

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

Jaebeom scales the final rung of the ladder before making his way toward the corner where the snoozing trio resides. He moves cautiously, mindful not to awaken the young werewolf caretaker, yet eventually finds himself perched on the edge of a familiar cot. His heart thunders inside his chest, and he cannot tell if it’s out of anxiety or hope. Though at this moment, Jaebeom can really care less to find out.

“It’s about time you showed up…” He winces at the broken husk of his companion’s voice, attempting to keep his expression as neutral as possible. “I thought you were actually going to leave me to die in the hands of a neurotic teenage wolf…”

Jaebeom doesn’t respond to her quip—he can’t find it in himself to do so.

Tzuyu raises an eyebrow, “What’s with the face? Did you take down the witch or not?”

“We did.” He hums, “The spell is broken.”

“Good thing—” The vampire pauses to cough, and the sound is like broken glass against his ears. “—you and your brother are safe for the eternity to come.”

“Tzuyu… I found the cure.”

“What are you waiting for then? My consent?” She snickers playfully, “We fuck for over a century and this is the most gentlemanly behavior I’ve ever seen from you, Beomie.”

Again, Jaebeom remains silent.

Recognizing the obvious tension in the room, Tzuyu’s face falls. “But… I guess it’s more complicated than that, hm?”

“There’s only enough for…” He’s unable to finish his sentence, not when his companion’s eyes are gazing at him with such sullenness and sympathy. Jaebeom has to look away for a moment, though the action does little to relieve the tightness of his chest.

“Ah, I see.” Tzuyu hums, glancing across the way to a slumbering Felix. Her pale lips twitch, as if attempting to upturn to a smile, but it instead appears as a weak grimace. “You know, I really never meant to hurt (Y/N)… or you.”

“Tzuyu—”

“I’ve known you for decades… but I’ve never seen you look at someone the way you look at her.” Another violent cough wracks through her body, expelling a mass of dark blood past her lips. Jaebeom is quick to wipe the splotch from her skin with the blanket, trying not to dwell on the fact that her skin is ice cold. “I’ll admit, I was jealous at first… I’ve always wanted someone to look at me like that…

“I know you’re afraid to care—to love, Jaebeom.” Tzuyu murmurs sadly, lifting a hand to rest against the hybrid’s cheek. “Especially someone like (Y/N)… and you’re right to. She’s too good… too human.

“One misstep and you could lose her forever.”

“I want to be selfish…” Jaebeom whispers, “I want to be selfish so fucking bad—”

“But you can’t be, Beom. Not with her.”

“Then let me be selfish with you.”

Tzuyu smiles.

“I’ve lived over three lifetimes, and he is barely a ways into his one—so you’re going to give the cure to that damn kid, Im Jaebeom.” He leans further into her touch as she caresses the apple of his cheek. “Promise me that you’ll stay away from her—to keep her safe?”

He nods.

“Good… Can you hold me for a moment? I’m cold.”

“I’ll hold you as long as you want me to.”

And so Jaebeom takes Tzuyu into his arms. However, it’s not until the vampire grows still does he allow a single tear to cascade from his eye, staining the bloodied bed sheets with the agony of a heart that has been broken too many times to count.

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jojoboisimagines · 3 years

Text

Josuke x Reader :: Promposal :: Ch. 6

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summary: A strange new transfer student has enrolled in Budogaoka High School. Josuke falls head over heels for her, but has a limited time to win her over before the school prom.

A/N: a short yet important chapter ;P

.::.

Sometimes the boys would intentionally exclude you from conversations.

You’re not sure what possessed them to think you wouldn’t notice. After all, you were the proclaimed ‘smartest girl in school’. Or at least, according to your near classmates. Their excuses weren’t the greatest either.

Since when did all three of them have to go to the bathroom together so much? Perhaps it was just something typical of the trio before you met them, but it all still seemed peculiar.

Hearing the word ‘Stand’ uttered a few times while hearing them whispering on multiple occasions, your mind couldn’t help but wander to the potential topics they were so adamant on keeping to themselves. You would respect their privacy though, assuming bad things about them would be unbecoming of you, especially since these were your new friends.

Huffing out a sigh, you reached for your notebook inside of your desk. Arching an eyebrow, your (e/c) eyes observed the front cover of the book before opening it, noticing something that certainly wasn’t there before.

A small, red insignia at the corner of the book, coupled with a strange looking devil symbol.

.::.

“Argh, how are we gonna find this creep?!” Okuyasu angrily banged his hand against the bathroom stall.

“Calm down Okuyasu, if someone hears us causing a ruckus they’ll come in.” Koichi scolded.

Josuke stood against the wall with his arms folded and his eyes half lidded, looking rather unimpressed with the matter they were discussing.

“Listen, what we know is that Joestar-san and Jotaro-san sent us a picture of that weird looking drawing that came up when Joestar-san used his stand. Josuke recognized the wall as a drawing on the corner near the convenience store.” Koichi calmly explained, but it sounded more like he was going over this for the sake of his own understanding. “ I’m sure the person must be close by, and even if not, stand users are drawn to each other, remember? They’ll show their face sooner or later.”

Josuke steps forward. “We should keep an eye out in the news to see if anything’s fishy is going on.” His friends nod in agreement.

“We should get out of the bathroom now, before we get in trouble...also its starting to smell..” Koichi noted. Josuke was quick to agree, about to head for the door before Okuyasu physically perked up.

“Wait, Koichi, did you know that Josuke has a crush?” The last part of the sentence was said with a bit of a snicker, the teen having a smirk that was wide enough for Josuke to want to smack off.

“...eh?” Their smaller friend slowly turned around. “On...on (y/n)?” His tone sounds more confused than legitimately interested.

“Yep!” Okuyasu covers his mouth as to not burst out into laughter, meanwhile the pompadoured teen looks like he’s about to pop a blood vessel.

The white haired boy tilts his head. “I sorta assumed that from the beginning, I mean, wasn’t that the point of becoming friends with her? Besides the obvious.”

A pinkish tint spreads across Josuke’s cheeks, and he sheepishly rubs the back of his neck.

“I know, but look! He’s gettin’ all red!” Oku pointed out.

He couldn’t bear this embarrassment any further. How could he change the subject? “O-oh right its almost time for class, gotta go!” Josuke nearly knocks over Koichi hurrying out of the bathroom, leaving his friends slightly befuddled.

“..Wow. And I thought I was a mess when admitting I liked Yukako..”

.::.

Walking home, you decided to leave before Josuke and the others came up to you, you had studying to do.

It was a good 20 minutes you spent after school trying to wipe off the symbol whoever drew in your book, but nothing worked, not even soap. It was probably a permanent marker they used, you assumed.

It was a windy day outside, you were sure you’d almost blow away as if you were a mere umbrella if it were anymore intense. Your mind drifted to what you were going to eat for dinner, obviously that was far more interesting than whatever textbook you had to crack open when you got home.

Any food that was specifically served in Morioh was still a mystery to you despite having being here for nearly a week and a half. That would have to be a question saved for Josuke and his friends later.

Hopefully your stomach would be able to handle it though. Foreign food was some of your favorite even before transferring, but other dishes left you in the bathroom for hours.

“(Y/N), LOOK OUT!”

‘...Josuke’s voice?’ You thought for half a second before just moving in any direction, unclear as to where anything dangerous might be coming from at your perspective.

An invisible force yanked you back even further. You had no time to question it before watching the car formerly headed in your direction hurdle into someone’s yard, tires leaving a black imprint on the road and screeching loud enough for your ears to hurt.

“What the..?” Was all you could manage to say. A slight jump emerged from you as a hand was placed on your shoulder.

“God, that was close. I’ve never seen someone drift like that before, that was just plain reckless!” It was Josuke, he was suddenly behind you despite you only hearing his voice before.

The fear and confusion was plain as day in your expression, causing him to anxiously rub his neck. You wanted an explanation.

“Are you okay?” He asked.

You checked for any injuries, but luckily you were fine. The real question was, how did he reach you from that far away?

“I’m fine. Sorry I didn’t wait for you earlier.”

“Ay, its alright. I’ll walk with you the rest of the way.” He gives you a charming smile.

The rest of the walk is silent. Not uncomfortably so, but still. Your mind couldn’t help but wander back to that car that nearly off’ed you. What was that all about? It didn’t help that it didn’t look like an accident. Perhaps that person had a death wish? Whatever it was, it nearly shook you. If Josuke wasn’t there, you’d be as good as gone.

“Hey.” You finally say, barely above a whisper.

“Hm?”

“Would you like to stay for dinner?”

#Josuke Higashikata #josuke higashikata x reader #josuke x reader #jjba x reader #jjba imagine #jjba #jojos bizarre adventure #jojo no kimyou na bouken

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poptod · 3 years

Text

Pull the Stars Out of the Sky (And Gift Them to Me), pt. 3 (Ahkmenrah x Reader)

Description: Things get busy as the palace prepares for the Pharaoh’s journey to Thebes.

Notes: WC: 5.1k

Warm flame blotted out the stars shining through the marble arches, leaving their light dim and diluted. In each corner of the small room, a floor torch illuminated the rows of papyrus scrolls, fire and shadow dancing as the men at the table conversed quietly. At first you had attempted to follow the topic, but the longer the hours grew the less patience you had. Eventually you found yourself wondering how the Pharaoh did this seemingly every day.

"I think we're getting a little ahead of ourselves," said a man you eventually learned was named Gyasi. He, along with most others gathered at the table, was an old man donned in golden linen, bearing curved lines drawn above his eyes. "We don't have time for such provisions. A number of things has delayed the King from planning earlier, so the journey to Thebes cannot be as detailed or grand as the last years, with Merenkahre."

"But we cannot arrive barren of gifts. As much as the mayor is loyal to the crown, it is good to keep in the graces of those ruling your cities. We can't afford any doubt of obedience," said the man sat on the far end of the table.

"I shall attend to the provisions and gifts myself, if need be," Piye said. Very rarely had they spoken at all this evening, and the deep tones of their nearby voice nearly startled you.

"What of the ships? Our fleet was destroyed and we don't have enough of the right design to carry what Merenkahre's advisors planned for their trips," said another man, whose long hair fell over his shoulders as he spoke.

"If the rest of you agree to tend to the soldiers, and for you the offerings," Ahk turned for a moment to the several priests gathered, "I will go through our models to find the best fit. Agreed?"

"I'm not –"

"It's nearly midnight," Piye interrupted. "The King needs his sleep, as do all of you. If you have any grievances you can bring them up tomorrow."

"... thank you, Piye," Ahkmenrah said, sighing sharply as he buried his face in his hand. "You're all dismissed. Get home and sleep well."

Rings of 'thank you, my king,' came from the men, cloth and cushions shuffling as they rose to their feet. You watched with wide eyes as they left. All who remained in the study were you, Piye, and Ahkmenrah. For the first time in at least several hours there was a quiet surrounding you, which you made sure to appreciate.

The night outside appeared to calm down, leaving only the sound of flowing water and cricket bugs chirping. Not even wind dared to brush through the arches. You sniffed, feeling sleep tug at the bags beneath your eyes. Ahk had gotten up early, and of course he insisted on taking you with him, creating for you a schedule you were very much not used to.

"I'm sorry, Amoke," Ahk said lowly, clearing his throat. "I didn't mean for this to carry on for so long. Are you tired?"

"Uh, yeah," you mumbled as you rubbed your eye.

"I'll see to it that Naguib doesn't wake you two until later. Will you be staying in your regular room or...?" Piye asked, their back turned to overlook the city.

"Inner," Ahk said with a stretch of his arms to the ceiling.

"Coward," Piye said, heading towards the door.

"Hey now, just because you have the body warmth of Ra doesn't make me a coward," Ahk said sternly, pointing a vindictive finger in Piye's direction.

"Right, sir," Piye said before swinging themselves out of the room.

He let out a long, weary sigh as he bent forward, resting his head on the low table. The blanket spread out between your laps shifted, as did the cushions, and though you tried to give him space he pulled himself into you the moment you moved. There he hid himself in you, breathing deep as he fidgeted with the cloth of your skirt.

"Did you have any thoughts about the meeting?" He asked, muffled against your neck.

"Your advisors are disappointed in you for being distracted when it comes to the religious part of the state, but can't realistically say anything since you're good with foreign diplomacy," you said.

What exactly they were planning and why had escaped you, but within the first thirty minutes of genuinely paying attention to the discussion, you'd deduced that with the prior knowledge of Ahkmenrah's and Merenkahre's reign.

"Are your advisors inherited from your father or did you choose them yourself?"

"Most of them are my father's," he said, pulling away from you to look you in the eye. "I know my cabinet needs some reorganizing, but it's not something I can concentrate on right now. Once we return from Thebes... I ask your help in deciding what changes to make."

"Um – that doesn't sound very wise, asking the advice of a civilian," you said, trying to back away from him. As usual, he did not let you, and held tighter to your hips.

"Do you question my judgement?" He asked, though kept a smile on his face.

Your answer to that was yes––very much so. There was no way you could say that, obviously, but you didn't want to lie either, so you stayed silent as he scanned you.

"A King knows what's best, my dear."

In the morning, Naguib woke you, and as he dressed Ahk, the King spoke to you. You had yet to leave the confines of silk sheets, and thus lay on your side with your cheek squished into the mattress as you watched them.

"We've got many a designs for ships, but only five of those are properly big enough to support us, the court, servants, soldiers, and offerings. Of those five there are about.. seven, I think, variations in the sails. We'll need to try each of them. How many ships is that?"

Naguib quickly looked away, avoiding the question. Similarly, you shrugged your shoulders, too out-of-it to formulate the correct answer.

"Thirty-five. Thirty-five ship rides today. Have you ever been sailing before?" He asked as he fiddled with his gold bracelet, turning to glance in your direction.

"No," you said quietly. As revered and important as water was, you still clung to your fear of the depths, and thus had never taken the opportunity to travel by river.

"I think you'll enjoy yourself," he said, with quite the amount of confidence in his tone. You, with insight into yourself, knew otherwise, and shriveled at his smile.

Massive sheets of linen rippled above you, tossed and blown by the eastern wind. The creak of wood sounded beneath your feet, spiking an uneasiness that plagued your stomach, and only worsened by the sway of the massive raft on the battering tide. All that remained to comfort you was the sun, shining blazingly overhead. You combated the burning heat by staying beneath the overhang of the little shack built into the middle of the boat.

Meanwhile, Ahk stood with hair flying in the breeze, his crown long forgotten on the floor. The skirt he wore was the only thing on his body now, allowing rays of sun to shine off the sheen of sweat worked up by his succinct movements. Mid-air he caught a rope in his palm, twisting it so it wrapped around his hand, and tugging harsh till the sail calmed itself. The billows dissipated into a smooth pillow of white, standing like a cloud against the blue sky.

"What do you think so far, Amoke?" Ahk asked above the splashing waves and muting wind.

"Takes an awful lot of effort, don't you think?"

"I suppose so," he said, panting lightly as he released the rope and headed towards you. "I won't be doing the sailing on the way there, however. At least not most of the time. We'll have our soldiers do that. Besides, this ship is large. Perhaps it is the sail hindering our work."

Our work. He could galavant off to wherever he wanted to, fix the entire problem himself, and he'd still say 'our,' or 'we,' or 'us'. You couldn't quite pinpoint why that annoyed you.

Along with the help of several other sailors on the ship, Ahk brought the hull to a rest against the sandy shore, while the sailors began to strip the sail and replace it. While they did so, Ahk rejoined you beneath the overhang. Once he arrived, the two servant girls on either side of the door held up their fans, blocking the sun further for the King.

"It may be a little windy, but today is a beautiful day," he said to you, circling an arm around your back. He rooted his hand to your waist and pulled you closer.

"I don't... like big boats," you mumbled, shoulders tight as your fist.

"Really? Why's that?" He asked with a grin.

"The wind is unpredictable and you can't see past the surface of the water."

"I think I can help you with that," he said, and his hand fell from your waist, tangling his fingers in your own.

Before you could say anything in reply, he was dragging you out from beneath the shade, into the open, unmanageable expanse of floating wood. The floor swayed as the boat was removed from the makeshift dock, nearly toppling you over from your poor balance.

"Careful there, dearest," he said as he steadied you. You bit your tongue, but reluctantly accepted his help in leading you evenly forward.

He took you to the tall mast, almost swaying with its' thin height. Wind filled the sail with a great howl, and with a little assistance from the soldiers, the boat was back to coasting down the Nile with the new sail.

"The wind is coming from the southeast," he said, leasing his grip on you to grasp a loose rope. "It'll be coming from there all day, so you can adjust the direction of the sail accordingly. If the wind is blowing too strong, you tie up the sail so it doesn't catch the wind. If the wind is weak, you open up the sail. It's all very simple. The design of these ships are specifically tailored for conditions along the Nile, so it's very rare any ships are overturned.

"For example, right now we're going a little fast. A few pulls and a few knots later," he tugged hard, lean muscles popping up beneath tanned skin as he did. Your eyes widened, unconsciously staring at his arms. "There. Didn't close it up all the way, cause we'd probably go to a standstill at that point and it can be a little hard to pick up momentum again."

"... momentum?"

"Thrust force," he clarified. Despite yourself you blushed and turned away, embarrassed of your own question, and flustered by his answer.

"Right," you said, mouthing the word, though not fully saying it. "It is easier for things in motion to remain in motion rather than to stop and pick it up again."

"Exactly," he said with a grin.

He stepped nearer to you, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you in close. Your own shoulders locked and tensed as he did.

"You know, Amoke," he said, looking down to you, "I quite like having you along with me on my daily duties. I know it's not the most interesting thing for you, but... I hope you enjoy it as well."

The obvious answer, at least to you, was that you weren't enjoying yourself. Never once in your life had you given a thought to learning how to swim, which made you antsy and nervous whenever you were near water. Even a shore felt like too much. To be stuck right in the middle of a massive, overflown river with a man essentially holding you hostage kept you on overload.

As the boat continued its' leisurely pace down the water, your fingertips and feet began to itch, desperate to leave the swaying rock of the waves. Sickness welled in your stomach and crawled up your throat, acid burning the back of your tongue. You tried your best to swallow it down, but your discomfort was already noticed by the Pharaoh, whose eyes turned to concern as he faced you.

"Are you feeling alright? You look a little... um, nauseous," he said, his brow furrowed.

"I feel very warm," you admitted with flushed cheeks.

"Oh, well there's a very easy cure for that!" He grinned. "Do you know how to swim?"

"Never learned."

"Don't worry. I shall take it upon myself to teach you, for now and future instances," he said, placing his hands on your upper arms.

"I - I'm not sure I –"

"Don't worry," he murmured, pressing his cheek to yours so as to whisper in your ear. "Would you rather have to face the possibility of drowning, should I not be near?"

His hands traveled down your arms to your waist, where he began to tug at your belt. The motion had your hips bumping against his, and though you tried to jump back, all that did was loosen your skirt further. Your heart began to beat against your bones, practically thrumming in your chest. While your anxiousness grew tenfold, the Pharaoh kissed your forehead, soft as his ministrations continued.

Soon your clothes were tossed to the wooden floor, forgotten as he took in your bare form. For a moment he appreciated you, ran his fingers down your skin as his eyes dragged from your shoulders to your hips, keen to move exact and slow.

"Come now," he said, ceasing contact to take your hand, and leading you to the edge of the boat.

Steps built into the boat's side led down to the water. He led you down them, helping you to perch beside the rushing water as his own skirt fell, crumpled and tossed in the same direction as your own clothes.

By example you dipped your feet in the cool water, mimicking Ahk's own legs pushed to the side by the current.

"Moshe?" Ahk called over his shoulders.

"Yes, my King?" came from the bow of the ship.

"My pet and I are going into the water. Slow us down, will you?"

Your what?! you thought, but said nothing concerning that, and attempted to change the subject.

"Don't you have a lot of sails to go through?" You asked.

"We've got all day, and tomorrow. And maybe the day after that. After that, though, we're out of luck," he said, a wide, crooked smile cast across his face. "But, of course... anything for you."

You almost laughed with him, but you tempered it down to a half-smile. From the spark in his eye and his blushing cheeks, you realized that it didn't matter if you laughed or smiled––it was still a positive reaction in his view.

Once the river slowed to the steady pulse of a sail-less ship, Ahk dropped himself into the water, his head sinking beneath the murky surface. Your eyes widened, but you made no attempt to reach him. For a moment you imagined he'd died, and pondered upon what you would do then. Probably leave.

Wouldn't that be nice, you thought, spacing out as you stared at the sandy shore.

Drenched curls drew slowly upwards, till they sat plastered against Ahk's forehead. Droplets fell down past his eyes, trailing down his cheek, and settling on the bow of his lips. His hands reached for you, settling on your ankles with a tug. You instinctively jerked away, and he grinned slyly, humored by your easily-won reactions.

"The water won't bite you," he said, tugging harder on your ankle. "Promise."

When you still barely moved from your spot on the step, he said, "I won't bite you either, if you're worried about that. Tread water with me, dear."

Gingerly your legs untensed, thighs slipping into the water as you sunk down. You swallowed the lump in your throat as you stared into the hidden depths, hypnotized by the streaming rays of sunlight, reflecting off the sand floating in the river. His hand moved from your ankle to elsewhere, though you lost track of it until it reappeared on your hip.

"Not too cold, right?" He asked with a pleased smile.

"No," you said.

It was indeed a bit frigid on your skin, but you attributed that to the fact that you'd been overheating all day in the sun. The burning cold soon began to dissipate, and what you were left with was a pleasant relief from the sun, hidden in the long shadow casted by the boat upon the ripples of water.

"Keep kicking your legs or you're going to sink," he said, moving to give you room to experiment.

Once you got hold of your legs, he mimicked how to move your arms, and soon you were floating untethered to the boat. Before you realized it, the ship was drifting away with the cool breeze. You very nearly panicked, but Ahk began to swim leisurely alongside it, and motioned for you to do the same. The slow speed of the new sails treaded steadily on, allowing the two of you to keep the same pace as the hull.

"How do you like it?" He asked, turning to drift down the river on his back, hands entwined behind his head.

"What happens if there's a creature beneath us?" You asked in return, still attempting to see the bottom through the murky water.

"We get back on the boat," he said with a shrug, a sly grin spreading across his face as you glared at him.

In order to keep with his schedule, he soon hauled himself back up onto the ship's ledge, offering a hand for you as well. You took it, but remained on the edge with your toes dipped into the water. Behind you, Ahk discussed something quietly with one of his soldiers, and reordered the sails.

Those gathered on the boat––numbering about eight or nine––went through the seven variations in the sails, and soon the boat was pulling back into the docks with the scribe's notes in the Pharaoh's hands. The crew trampled off the ship, boarding the next one in line as the sails were moved from the first deck to the second. You watched from the side, careful not to interfere, and listened to Ahkmenrah's conversation with his scribe, whose name you learned was Zaid.

"Speed can be sacrificed for storage, if we leave earlier," Ahk mumbled, biting at his bottom lip.

"Those faster ones are easier to tear," said Zaid. "If you're putting even more weight on the ship, they aren't going to work."

"Hmm. No use debating when we've got four more boats to go through."

"Yes, my King. Very well."

Zaid left the Pharaoh's side to help with the sails, earning you once more time alone with Ahk. He stepped nearer to you, placing his arm over your shoulder and pulling you in, squeezing you in a gentle side-hug.

"Zaid is a very special scribe," Ahk explained, eyes still training after the crew. "He learned his trade from Piye while they were travelling the world on a soul mission. Piye doesn't remember him at all, but he does his job very well so I don't think it's a problem, even if he is lying."

"A soul mission?"

"Yes, well, Piye didn't always look like that. You know, the whole very tall, very dark skin and very white hair. They've got a very special magic about them," he said with a nod. "I believe most of it was unlocked during their soul mission, which caused the change."

"... right," you mumbled. Ahkmenrah had said a great deal of strange things to you, but claiming magic to be real was a little much, even for you.

Egyptians were always a bit of an enigma to you––from what you'd learned in your own travels, they were fiercely protective of their homeland, such to the point that they rarely invaded other countries. Magic was something as entwined with their daily life as eating or sleeping. Every town seemed to have their own pantheon of Gods, and each tomb their own spells scarcely found in doubles. Harmony was of utmost importance, and family life was revered, having its' own pedestal to rival the significance of the Pharaonic family. The incestual Pharaonic family.

You shivered instinctively at the thought. As much as you wanted to believe Ahkmenrah was not a part of that area of his culture, you had no way of knowing, and asking him directly seemed too great a task.

For the remainder of the day, your weight was grounded on wooden decks, only breaking when you let your feet hang off the side and into the water. Ahk tried to keep his focus on the project at hand, but his attention would often waver whenever he caught sight of you. Unfortunately for the crew of the ship, that was quite often, and the Pharaoh had no trouble acquiescing to your every desire. Be it questions, or a wish to swim or break the ship routine, he would immediately fulfill your request.

By evening the tests were finally complete, leaving a few stacks of papyrus containing Zaid's notes on the ships and their sails. Ahkmenrah invited him back to the palace, where the two of them conversed quietly in his study, ignorant of the outside world and ignorant of you. To bide the time you tried looking at star charts, as the actual night sky was blinded by torchlight both in the study and the city.

The rows upon rows of scrolls and tablets soon bored you, at which point you listened on the duller conversation between Ahk and Zaid, who had a pleasant back-and-forth concerning the trip to Thebes. Slow, soft murmurs brought your shoulders to sag, muscles aching from the minimal effort of the day. It had been a while since you'd gotten any true exercise.

You closed your eyes for a moment––you could swear it was only a moment––but when you opened them, you found yourself rustling from movement, and blearily realized you were being held. Someone was carrying you down a chill hallway, and by diminishing torchlight you recognized the face of the Pharaoh.

"Long day, hmm?" He said upon noticing you were half-awake.

"No," you insisted with a frown. "I'm awake."

"Not standing, though," he teased.

"I'll fuckin' stand if y-"

"Shhh," he said softly, leaning in to peck your forehead. "We'll be sleeping soon anyway. It's far too late to do anything else."

Morning came and you found Ahk already awake, dressed in commoner's clothes and speaking softly with Naguib. From your spot on the bed, your cheek pressed into the pillow, you watched their tiny motions and the few words you could hear.

A couple minutes into listening, Ahkmenrah noticed you were awake, and hushed Naguib as he turned to you.

"Good to see you're awake," he said with a peppy smile, too bright and cheerful for your morning eyes. "I'm afraid I have to go into the markets today for a special deal. I won't be able to take you along. You might get lost in the crowd, or get hurt, and I abhor that idea. You understand, right?"

He was lying. Something about his choice of words, or the way he held his shoulders, hinted at the lie. What the truth was you wouldn't ask, though you speculated it to be a shady deal he didn't want you to know about. Instead you nodded, shifting to sit up, silken sheets pooling around your hips.

"Naguib, does this door have a lock?"

"Only from the inside, sir," Naguib said, his hands dutifully behind his back.

Ahk paused for a moment to process the answer, a detached coldness glazing over his eyes.

"Fetch me some rope, will you?" He said, and your eyes went wide, limbs suddenly scrambling backwards.

"Yes sir," Naguib said as he left the room.

"Please don't," you asked, almost on the verge of begging. Your wrists were just now barely healing, the blisters from tweed rope bruised instead of bleeding. "I'll stay with you in the market. I won't try to escape."

"I'm sorry, pet, truly," he said as he knelt on the bed, crawling up until he pinned you against the wall, your thighs pressed tightly together as you stared with pleading eyes.

"Please, Ahk," you begged, succumbing to your natural self-protective instinct.

"It won't be for long," he promised, stroking your cheek with his thumb. You shivered in disgust of his movements. "I'll come back in a few hours and I'll... I'll take you anywhere you want to visit, alright?"

His kind words made you falter, and once more you reminded yourself of an unfortunate illness that happened often to those kidnapped by lust-driven people. It was a condition you'd seen a few times––the kidnapped begins to sympathize with the kidnapper, falls in love with them, and never realizes the implication of it all.

Those sweet words of his would not bring you to your knees. You kept your resolve best you could, even as tears began to well in your eyes, pain shooting through your nerves as he wrapped the tweed rope back around your wrists and tied you to the bed frame.

Before he left to follow Naguib, he kissed your forehead again, brushing the hair out of your face as he did.

"I'll have the servants bring you some food," he said, shutting the door behind him.

You sighed sharply. Since you were last tied up, this would be your first moment alone, hidden deep within the stone walls of an alien palace. Irritation grew within you as you looked to the paintings on the wall, and soon you were grunting as you pulled at your restraints. The rough hay poked at your skin, stabbed and chafed as you struggled, attempting to find some give in the tight knot.

In the end you lay back down on your side, tears crossing your eyes and temple as blood began to drip from your already-bruised skin.

Damn him, you thought, sniffling. I swear I'll kill him.

About an hour later––though you had no idea of knowing how much time had actually passed––a servant came to visit you, a tray of food in hand. You sat up best you could, attempting to wipe away your teary shame.

"My name's Haji," he said. "I've seen you around, with the Pharaoh. I'm sorry."

"... thank you," you said blankly, despite the horrifying array of emotions that came to you. That was the first time you'd actually gotten sympathy in this Godforsaken place. Mostly you were met with people who thought you were lucky, or people who thought you were bad for the King.

"Yeah.. do you want me to undo those?" He asked, gesturing to the rope.

"Yes please," you mumbled, shoulders tightening as a blush dusted your cheeks.

He reached up, nails digging into the strange knot. Slowly it began to loosen, eventually falling over your shoulders, with your arms no longer numb from blood loss. Freezing cold first overcame your limbs, followed by tingling warmth that finally brought about movement.

"Thank you," you said, reaching for a roll and biting into it. "Are you actually allowed to do that?"

"Not really," he chuckled, "but usually people like to keep their dignity and not be handfed as an adult."

"Right?" You said, your first smile in Egypt crossing your face. "Ahk insists on it sometimes, it's incredibly strange."

"He probably has some sort of weird mommy complex. I do know he really wants kids," Haji said, drifting off slightly in thought.

Your eyes widened. Is that why he wanted you? Then came the next question, barreling into your mind without thought for your sanity––were you the child, or was he keeping you there to have his children?

You very nearly threw up.

"... but that's probably just because he enjoys protecting people," he finished.

"You seem to know him well," you said, attempting to speak through your nausea.

"I've worked for the royal family my entire life. I kind of grew up with the Pharaoh... he used to steal wine from the kitchen and I always let him. Don't really want to risk saying no to a royal," he joked.

"I understand," you said softly. "If it makes you feel better, it doesn't really matter what you say. He'll take whatever he wants."

"I know," he said, looking to you with a regretful brow. He allowed a moment of silence before he asked, "you begged with him, didn't you?"

"Yes," you said, voice cracking.

"Bit of advice? If you struggle physically, he'll get more forceful, but if you cry, he'll feel bad about himself and stop," he said.

Without thought you burst out laughing, covering your face with your hands as you tried to stop the torrent of giggles. He grinned as well, less amused by his advice, and more delighted that you found it so entertaining. Caught up in your own laughter, neither of you noticed the door swinging open by the Pharaoh's hand. When you did turn, you found the King beaming at you, his smile bright enough to fill the whole of the room.

"Amoke!" He said, striding across the room to you. Your eyes darted quickly to Haji, who looked as alarmed as you, before you were pulled from your spot and heaved into a tight hug by Ahk. Even there you glanced to Haji, whose mouth was now open in disbelief.

"Um, I'll leave you two alone," Haji said, gingerly raising himself from the spot on the bed.

Ahk promptly dropped you back into the soft cushions, a high-pitched huff unwillingly leaving you as you landed.

"Nonsense Haji! You made my pet laugh," he said, turning from Haji to you as he spoke your name, fingers dragging beneath your chin to force you upwards. "Considering I've rarely seen Amoke smile, much less laugh, I think some new arrangements in order. You shall join us on our journey to Thebes."

"Like... a professional friend..?"

"Sure. Whatever you'd like to name yourself. Go get packed––we leave within the hour," he said, information that sent Haji bolting out the door with an obedient, 'yes sir'.

“You’re awfully chipper,” you noted with mild suspicion.

“Someone burned a whole pot of blue lotus and it got caught in the, um, room. With the traders. You know, where I was for an hour. That’s probably why.”

"Oh. I thought we were leaving in two weeks," you said with a confused frown, moving to your feet when Ahk pulled you to do so.

"Not sure where you heard that, but we were hoping to leave within a week. Do you have any belongings you want to bring along?"

"My clothes. I still haven't gotten them back from those washhouse servants," you said.

"Then it shall be done. By someone else. We need to get to the docks. I'm assuming you've never been to Thebes before?"

"No."

"I think you'll like it," he said, taking your hand in his and leading you out of the room. "The orgies there are fantastic."

#ahkmenrah x reader #Ahkmenrah #Night at the Museum #rami malek #rami malek character #ahkmenrah x male reader #ahkmenrah x female reader

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