#if you have trouble with what crosses your dash sort it out and change who you follow!!!

[raaorqtpbpdy]

A Little Chat

Jazz gets the chance to talk to the ghost boy before she knows he's her brother. When she talks to him after discovering the truth, their first conversation is still ringing in her mind.

For the prompts: What if Jazz had a conversation with Phantom before learning he was Danny? What does their next conversation look like when Jazz knows but Danny doesn't know she knows? [from atropos], and "What do you mean this isn't safe, I'm already dead" [from @princessfanonanona]

Read also on AO3

[Warnings for mentions of violence and death]

Casper High was all abuzz about the upcoming school dance, but Jazz couldn't care less. Dancing had never been her thing, much less at school where all her peers could watch her embarrass herself. That didn't stop her from getting asked, by Dash Baxter when she was tutoring him, by her lab partner in the middle of chemistry class (gag), by Danny's friend Tucker, who was asking out every girl in school and getting turned down every time.

Jazz was honestly more preoccupied by her ongoing existential crisis about ghosts being real, and her annoyance at how insufferable her parents had been since the revelation. She was nothing if not curious and determined, though.

Her parents said a lot of things about ghosts with very little research or evidence to back their claims, but Jazz wasn't going to just hop on the bandwagon and believe everything they said. If she could, she was going to get a first-hand source on this ghost situation.

Unfortunately, not intending to go to the dance didn't exempt her from the teen-girl bonding nightmare that was helping her friends shop for their dresses. She knew she was only a part of their little group because she tutored them, and she had very little in common with any of them. But she also knew that it was good and healthy for her to socialize with people her own age, and even if she couldn't really relate to them, at least they were nice, and always tried to include her.

That didn't stop them from gently ribbing her about how unhelpful she was being when she said they looked fantastic in every dress they tried on.

Shopping got a lot more exciting, however, when a dragon showed up. Jazz went to check it out, claiming she had to go to the bathroom so the girls wouldn't try to stop her. They were too busy changing to notice the commotion outside the store.

Jazz ran to the second floor railing to get a good look at the ghost boy fighting some glowing blue dragon with a huge amulet around its neck. Jazz watched and waited for the immediate Danger to be over before calling out to him.

"Hey!" she shouted. "Ghost boy!"

The ghost swiveled around in mid-air until he saw her. She waved him over. He shook his head and gestured over his shoulder like he needed to be somewhere.

"Come on, I'll be quick!" she shouted, waving him over more insistently.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, the ghost boy floated over to her.

"Can I help you, citizen?" he asked awkwardly

"Actually, yeah," she said. "I'm Jazz Fenton, you probably know of my parents. They have some very uh... opinionated views about ghosts, and I'm looking to learn more about ghosts from a first hand source. Could I trouble you for a moment of your time?"

"I uh... I don't know how much help I'd be," the boy replied. "To be honest, I'm kind of new to the whole 'being a ghost' thing."

"That's alright," she insisted. "If you don't mind, I still think I could learn a lot from talking to you."

"Uh... alright," he agreed, and settled himself cross-legged in the air just on the other side of the second-floor railing Jazz was still standing at.

This area of the mall had pretty much been cleared out when the dragon showed up, so the two of them were alone, even in the middle of a public place.

"Shoot," he said.

"Okay." Jazz considered for a moment what her first question should be before asking, "Do ghosts have obsessions that motivate all their actions, yea or nay?"

He hummed thoughtfully. "Sort of? Maybe? I don't really know. From what I've been able to get, it seems like ghosts have more of a tendency to be obsessive than humans do, but even ghosts with obsessions aren't motivated one hundred percent solely by those obsessions."

"So would you say that ghosts have free will?" Jazz asked.

"Yes, absolutely we do." There was no hesitation in that answer, no hint of doubt.

"I think I can guess the answer, but do you think ghosts are inherently evil?"

To her surprise, the ghost boy paused before answering, titling his head from side to side like he wasn't really sure what to say.

"Well... I'm not," he answered cautiously. "I haven't met too many friendly ghosts so far, but we're definitely not inherently evil."

"Why do you fight other ghosts?" Jazz asked. "Not that I'm not grateful, but... ever since you showed up, I've been curious about that."

"Why?" he repeated. 

He looked perplexed, although Jazz couldn't tell if it was because he didn't know the answer, or because he didn't know why she was even asking because it seemed so obvious to him.

"Well who else is gonna do it?" he asked. That answer did nothing to clear up Jazz's uncertainty. "I can't very well let them just cause chaos around here. They could seriously hurt people."

"What about you?" Jazz asked.

"What about me?"

"I just mean, couldn't they hurt you, too?" she asked. "I saw how you got tossed around by that dragon, and the lunch lady a little while ago. This whole situation, you fighting off ghosts ten times your size to protect humans you barely know... this just doesn't seem safe."

The ghost boy huffed a soft laugh. "What do you mean this isn't safe?" he asked. "I'm already dead, what else can they do to me?"

Jazz frowned, her brows furrowing.

"You still bleed," she said. "I've seen it. You bleed green, but you still bleed."

"So what, I bleed," the ghost boy shrugged, though his expression took on a melancholy tone. "So do you. You're telling me if you saw someone in danger, even if you didn't know them, you wouldn't try to help?"

Jazz didn't really know. Her self-preservation was strong, but so was her compassion. She would have to make that decision in the moment, not standing in a mall across from a boy her brother's age... who had died. 

Her brother had almost died, too, once, not that long ago. If she had been there... if she'd had the chance to save him from the pain of that accident at the cost of her own safety, would she have?

"Do you help others because no one helped you when you were dying?" she asked. 

Even as it left her mouth she could hear how rude and personal the question sounded, but it was out there now... and she wanted to know.

The ghost boy shook his head. "No one could have helped me," he said. "Even if they were there, even if they wanted to. There was no saving me. It would have just ended with two ghosts instead of one." 

She opened her mouth to ask a follow up question, but was interrupted when one of her friends appeared.

"Jazz! There you are!" Marci called out. "Oh my gosh, if you needed a break from dress-shopping, you could have just said so. You didn't have to disappear on a bathroom break for twenty minutes."

"Yeah, we were actually starting to get worried about you," Jenna added. "We heard there was some kinda ghost dragon somewhere in the mall a little bit ago. We thought you might've gotten hurt."

"I'm fine, I promise," Jazz told them. "I actually left to get a closer look, but I made sure to stay a safe distance away. I've just been talking to—" Jazz cut herself off when she turned and saw that the ghost boy was gone.

"Talking to who?" Marci asked, looking at the empty air.

"To whom," Jazz corrected absently. She shook her head. "Never mind. Did you girls pick out dresses you liked?"

"Marci did," Jenna said. "So far, I haven't found anything that speaks to me, ya know? I think I've decided on the color though, I want a pretty sunset orange, like a pink-ish, dark-ish color, maybe with glitter, you know?"

"That's a bold choice," Jazz commented. She didn't know much about fashion, but she did know she didn't see a lot of people walking around in orange most of the time.

"I'm a bold girl," Jenna agreed with a laugh. "I found one orange dress, but the shape made me look like a traffic cone, it was awful!"

Jazz snickered at that mental image and Jenna and Marci laughed with her.

"Come on, there's a couple more stores we can check out to see if they have something you like," Marci suggested. "And obviously we gotta stop at the bookstore, too. We can't leave our main girl Jazz without her lit fix."

Jazz laughed again and followed them toward the next store.

—

Ever since Jazz found out the ghost boy was her brother, she couldn't stop thinking about it. She'd decided immediately to wait until he was ready to tell her before bringing it up, but that didn't stop it from being on her mind all the time. She wanted to protect him but there weren't a lot of ways she could do that.

She nearly freaked out on him when they started doing ghost drills at school, and couldn't exactly explain why without taking away his chance to tell her his secret on his own. Luckily, she managed to change the subject and get away without giving herself away, but it was a close call.

She didn't expect to ever get the chance to talk to Danny as the ghost boy again before he told her it was him, because frankly, he did his best to avoid humans as much as possible in his ghost form, most of all his family.

A lot happened. Danny had a million dollar bounty on his head, everyone at school got sick with ghost flu, then a bunch of teenagers had to save all the adults in town (and, embarrassingly, Jazz) when they got kidnapped by ghosts using hypnotic music.

Then the town was sucked into the Ghost Zone, and the only thing protecting them all from a tyrannical ghost king was Fenton Works' ghost shield. And Danny planned to go fight the king himself. He hadn't said it yet, but she could tell by the grim look on his face when he went outside. Jazz followed subtly, but the time she got outside he was already in ghost form, staring up at the green sky.

"Hey, ghost boy, long time, no see," she said.

"Uh... what?" he said. "I don't... oh... right, yeah. Guess it has... been a while."

"You're gonna try to fight the ghost king, aren't you?" she guessed. "Please don't. Amity Park needs you, and if you go fight him... he could destroy you. I know you think you're invincible but this isn't safe."

Danny huffed out a bitter chuckle. "What do you mean its not safe? I'm already dead," he responded, just the same way as he had the last time she told him that.

But this time she knew it wasn't true, not completely.

She remembered the last time she spoke to him as the ghost boy, how he told her that no one could have saved him when he died. She remembered hearing him screaming in the basement from all the way up on the second floor and wondered if it was true. Sam and Tucker had been with him, and she knew they would have helped if they could have.

"You're right about one thing, though," he said after a moment. "Amity Park needs me. I can't flake out on them now."

With that, he flew off to god knew where, to fight the ghost king, or his skeleton army, or the Fright Knight. She just hoped he'd be okay. He was her baby brother, and she didn't think she could handle losing him for good.

He didn't deserve any of this.

#danny phantom #dp #danny fenton #jazz fenton #fic #things i wrote #phic phight 24 #phic phight

[alieinthemorning]

Injury [Ace Trappola | Maeda Yuuna]

Content: Injury, Strong Language, Original Character(s)

Pairing: Ace Trappola/Maeda Yuuna

Header: @/n_twst on Twitter

Reblogs: Let me know that you enjoy my work and want to see more, so don’t forget to like and reblog (and comment in the tags. I love seeing people’s rambles in the tags)!

This work’s concepts, plot and original characters are my own which means I do not allow any sort of creative theft nor do I allow my work to be entered into any sort of A.I. bots. Thank you for respecting my space and boundaries.

Ace wouldn't say that he was worried.

Out loud

But he was really fucking worried.

She doesn't really understand why Crowley let her (and Grim) go with Ace and Deuce into some mine to fetch some gemstone. She supposed it was because he believed it would have been an easy in and out job. Go get the stone, return before midnight, and no one gets kicked out. And if anything were to go wrong, well she had two freshmen who knew magic and Grim who could blow fire at it.

Well, it wasn't easy, though. It actually almost costed them their lives. There was so black-goo-snowglobe monster in the mines that seemed to be dead set on killing them. Despite this very scary fact, their group was able to take the thing out and get what they needed.

However,

"Why the fuck would you let a magicaless human go to the mines with them? Why would you let any of them go in the first place!" Vita, the school's Head Nurse, snapped at Crowley.

Currently, out of the four in their group, Yuuna was the only one heavily bandaged and still resting in bed.

"How was I supposed to know there was supposed to be—" Crowley began, but snapped his mouth shut as Vita snarled.

"Finish that sentence, I fucking dare you, Dire." She let him stew in his silence for a bit before sighing roughly and turning away. "Whatever. Get out."

"Yes, of course." He turned his attention to Ace and Deuce. "Come along now, Trappola, Spade—"

"No. They're staying as well." Vita rolled her eyes at his dumbfounded look. "I need to monitor their blot levels."

"Ah yes—my apologies." He bid them all a good night, then left with his head low.

"He is so fucking stupid..." Vita mumbled under her breath as she crossed the room to rummage through some drawers.  "Boys, change into these." She handed them both something, probably pajamas, and pointed them to the bathrooms.

"And you," She turned her attention to Yuuna. "I'm going to make a potion for you to help numb your pain and get you to sleep, okay?"

Yuuna simply nodded, already too tired to talk anymore. She just sat there, petting Grim, who had fallen asleep not long after Vita had given him a quick once over. The potion was finished not long after Ace and Deuce were dressed and in bed. She took it with no problems. And then very suddenly,

she was dreaming.

Ace wouldn't say that he was worried.

Out loud

But he was really fucking worried.

"Why isn't she waking up?" Deuce, who was wearing his worry more visibly than him, asked.

"The potion I gave her last night will keep her asleep as her body heals." Vita answered nonchalantly as she looked over their magestones. "Anyway, you two are good to go." She handed them their pens back. "Just don't get into trouble again, so that Crowley doesn't make you do stupid shit again."

"When will she wake up...?" Ace asked, looking over Yuuna.

She didn't look like she was in pain or anything. She looked really relaxed, actually.

She just wasn't awake and that was really freaking him out.

"When she wakes up." She maneuvered them toward the door. "Now, shoo."

She didn't wake up for four days.

Ace, for some reason or other, visited her everyday. He didn't stay long, just gave Grim so food and asked Vita about her condition. His eyes may have lingered, but his body didn't.

Then she finally woke up and she wasn't even in the infirmary.

"She's back at her dorm." Vita said as he opened the door.

He muttered a thanks and turned heel, dashing for Ramshackle.

And there she was, sitting outside on the porch steps. Just breathing and watching.

"So...you couldn't just wait there?"

She just stared at him for a minute, then answered, "Nah, I don't really like doctor's offices like that." She smirked, "What? Were you waiting for me to wake up or something?"

Ace looked away, "No way! It was just weird that you slept for so long..."

"It was a pretty good sleep, though." Yunna lifted her arms in a stretch, then patted the stop beside her. "Come, sit with me."

He doesn't know why he did. He had gotten what he wanted. She was awake and seemed fine enough. There was no point to linger there, but he did.  He sat down beside her (with space in between them) and just...existed together.

It was weird, but nice.

Time for me to admit it. I struggle so hard to not write in second person (You). I start going and I switch back and then I snap out of it and have to fix it lol.

Anyway, two things:

One, oh lookie! It's Vita from TwistedχHearts(AO3)! Basically, I'm probs gonna take all those staff/student OCs from there and MOVE THEM OVER HERE (You (main character from TwistedχHearts(Quotev) will not be making an appearance tho)!

Two, things sure were said at the end there, huh?

Ko-Fi | Commission | Masterlist

#alie ficlets #alie series: hatsukoi #ace x yuu #ace x yuusona #oce insert #yuusona insert #ace trappola x maeda yunna

[epitomereally]

smut saturday?

VUK (@vukovich) ty for the tag. I certainly don’t (yet) have 10 smut scenes to post, so going to post one from my upcoming WIP and one from my published fic. I’ve learned that I love to start a story with slightly-antagonistic, extremely-unsure sex, probably from my formative years reading enemies-to-lovers H/D in the early 2000s. If that’s your vibe, enjoy :)

Eta: forgot to tag! Lots of people on my dash have already gone but would love to see @tenthousandyearsx because “trouble with your tie, potter?” is amazing and would love to see what else you choose and anyone else who’s seeing this & hasn’t written one yet

This is from my upcoming WIP & essentially follows another wip snip I've posted. Completely unedited, aka peep where I use [] to write notes to myself when I can't come up with the right word while drafting.

They landed in Harry’s bedroom. Harry was suddenly, fervently glad he’d been changing his sheets like a madman because, otherwise, his room was musty, untidy, strewn with socks and pants and his other sets of Auror robes. Malfoy’s disdain was apparent while looking about and Harry was reminded of all the reasons why this was a terrible, horrible idea.

    Malfoy plucked a pair of Harry’s socks off the bed and placed them on the desk chair in the corner. He said, “Eurgh, don’t you have a house elf, Potter? Why does this place look like such a dump?”

    Harry crossed his arms over his chest. It was his dump and so what if he didn’t like to clean up? He’d had a lifetime of that by age ten and threw himself into messiness with reckless abandon at Hogwarts—messiness was freedom. He protested, “Kreacher is getting old! And I don’t like him sorting through my dirty pants! He takes care of the rest of the house, as best he can.”

    Malfoy turned to him. With barely-disguised interest, he asked, “Where exactly are we, Potter? I thought I remembered an elf named Kreacher—“

    Harry cut him off, defiant. “I won’t have you selling me out to the papers, Malfoy. If we’re to do this, you’re not to tell anyone about it.”

    “Oh, I see.” Malfoy’s eyes glittered dangerously. “The great Harry Potter doesn’t want anyone knowing about his dirty, little secret.” He had advanced on Harry and emphasized each word with a jab to the chest. “He won’t even tell the people that he shags where he lives. What’s next, Potter, memory charms?”

    That honestly didn’t sound such a bad idea at the moment. This was obviously such a colossal mistake that Harry had half a mind to Obliviate himself. But, he reasoned, if he did, then he wouldn’t remember to never ever act on the fact that he thought Draco Malfoy was fit. “Fine, then! If you’re just going to be a wanker about me, where I live, how I live, then it’s best we don’t do this at all.”

    Malfoy continued on as if Harry hadn’t even said anything at all. “Well, don’t you worry about me spilling the magic beans, Potter. Don’t be ridiculous. You may be the hero of the Wizarding World, but I’m not exactly eager to advertise this either.” Malfoy’s face twisted into a bitter sneer. “Besides, who do you even think I would tell?”

    “Okay, okay. Just—“ Harry paused, wondered how revealing this was. “Just don’t call me that.”

    “What? Hero of the Wizarding World?” Malfoy scoffed. “You always were-“ [disgustingly modest? But would Malfoy think this yet? Maybe he figures it out later and just lashes out here]

    With a flourish, Malfoy started to untie his cloak. He slid it from his shoulders, folded it nicely, and set it on Harry’s desk. He then sat on the bed to unlace his dragonhide boots.

    “Er—“ Harry began. All thought left him when Malfoy began unbuttoning his shirt, starting with the cuffs and then showing a dangerous sliver of his collarbone. Harry’s mouth was suddenly very dry. He forced out, “Er, I guess I’m not sure we should do this, anymore? Maybe it was a bad idea?”

    Malfoy cast a glance at him again, continuing to unbutton his shirt, which was now open to his ribcage. “Of course it’s a bad idea, Potter, but we’re young and you’re fine-looking, I suppose. You’re looking for someone to experiment with who won’t sell you out to the press, which I won’t, and, even if I did, who would believe me, Draco Malfoy, Death Eater, telling anyone that we shagged? And I’m just looking to get off and don’t particularly care with who, even if it is someone whom I’ve hated for forever.”

    Harry’s breath had officially left his body. Malfoy’s shirt was now completely open, baring his chest and stomach. Harry reached down to adjust his cock, which was straining against his fly, and Malfoy tracked the movement with his eyes.

    Malfoy abruptly stood up, apparently having taken Harry’s obvious desire as agreement. He unbuckled his belt and threw it on the floor. He slowly unzipped his fly and shimmied his skinny trousers down his legs. Then Malfoy was just stood there, in his black pants, long legs, swelling cock, broad shoulders, all that skin on display, looking uncertain for the first time. Harry blurted out, “You’re so fit.”

    Malfoy barked out a laugh, seeming surprised and pleased. He palmed his cock and said, “Now you, Potter,” softer than Harry thought possible from him.

    Harry realized he had just been standing there like a wally, while Malfoy stripped. He hurried to take off his clothes. He hastily toed off his ratty trainers and his socks, only one of which had a hole in the toe, he was pleased to note. He shucked his trousers, which were starting to become quite uncomfortable anyways. When he went to remove his tee, he got it stuck in his armpits and then his glasses came clattering to the floor when he removed it. He bent down to pick them up and shoved them back on his face.

    Malfoy looked temporarily taken aback. He asked, “You’re going to keep your glasses on, then?”

    Harry cleared his throat. He said, gruffly, “I want to see you,” and grinned when red spread across Malfoy’s chest, up his neck, onto his face.

    Malfoy sat on Harry’s bed and leaned back, resting on his palms. He let his legs sprawl in front of him, off the bed, and Harry could see the soft swell of his balls in his pants, the dusty fuzz on the insides of his thighs. Harry realized Malfoy was letting him look and his mouth flooded with saliva. Malfoy asked, quietly, as if afraid to break the spell, “Have you ever bottomed before, Potter?”

    “Er,“ Harry said, “no?” He knew the mechanics of it, of course; after Christmas, Charlie had sent him some quite instructive magazines, that Harry had wanked to at least once or twice. Harry had even tried to poke around back there with a finger once or twice, but it had just been uncomfortable and not very enjoyable.

    Malfoy snorted and reached down, put his hand down his pants and stroked himself. Harry’s eyes followed the movement, the long pulls up and down, and his mind filled with static. He truly didn’t think he had ever been more turned on in his life.

    Malfoy said, lazily, continuing to stroke himself, “Well, I suppose since I’ve done it before, I’ll do you the favor this time, but next time, you’ll have to hand your arse up to me.”

This is from my fic A Case of You, and is quite close to the beginning. Harry and Draco are both in the Auror training program, partnered together. Harry is obviously interested in Draco, but is also keeping secrets.

Draco pulled off of Potter’s cock and hovered above his body, now completely unsure how to proceed. Potter still had an arm thrown over his eyes; he was breathing hard, with a flush extended down his chest. He whispered, “Fuck,” once more and pulled his head up to look down at Draco. “Draco, that was—fuck. Are you … are you going to fuck me now?”

Draco barked out a laugh of disbelief; he smiled up at Potter, just a bit. “Fuck you? Potter, you just came.”

An obstinate look came over Potter’s face. “You said you were going to use me, so fucking use me.”

 Was that not good for Potter? It seemed like it was good for Potter. It was certainly good for Draco; he was viciously hard, a literal, aching need in his groin. Humiliation flooded through Draco’s body, but then Potter was reaching down to him, grabbing, clasping hands trying to pull Draco up.

“You really want me to use you, Potter?” Draco snarled. He pushed those hands down, clambered up Potter’s body, and straddled his shoulders. “Open your mouth.”

And Potter just fucking did, what the fuck?

Draco channeled all the wants of his fifteen-year-old sexual awakening and guided his cock into Potter’s open mouth. Potter’s lips were so red, bitten; his mouth was so wet and hot; his tongue sliding on the underside of Draco’s cock. Draco was already so turned on and now this—literally something he wanked to in the Slytherin dorms, angry and so horny. He imagined himself holding Potter down, fucking his face, Potter moaning around his cock. Now it was happening and it seemed like Potter loved it, groaning and writhing and eyes fluttering closed.

“Look at me,” Draco commanded, pumping in and out. Potter’s eyes snapped open and focused on Draco’s. Potter’s eyes were so green without his glasses, looking through Draco like he could see his want, his anger, his shame that he had been carrying around with him for years. Draco thrust helplessly, desperately into Potter’s mouth and Potter just took it. It certainly wasn’t the most technically-skilled blowjob Draco had ever received—Potter’s teeth were coming too close and Draco was bumping up against his soft palate, but Potter was seeing him, fuck. Draco carded his fingers through Potter’s hair, which was much softer than it looked, too soft, and tugged. Potter hummed in appreciation and brought his hands up to Draco’s hips, urging him on. Draco realized belatedly that maybe Potter liked this, liked Draco being rough with him. Maybe Potter actually wanted to be used. He wanted Draco to pour out all of his anger at his position, his frustration at never been good enough, his urgent want for Potter.

So Draco did.

Too quickly, Draco’s cock started tingling, the ache in his groin returned with a vengeance, and Draco could feel a rushing throughout his body. And fuck it, if Potter wanted to be used—

“Potter, I’m going to—can I come? On your face?”

Potter moaned and squeezed Draco’s arsecheck, which Draco could only take as assent. Draco breathed in harshly through his nose, as a jolt of arousal shot through him. Fuck, if Draco wasn’t living out every pubescent fantasy he’d ever had—though, in his fantasy, he hadn’t asked Potter if he could. Potter hollowed out his cheeks, running his tongue over the underside of Draco’s cock. Draco could feel his orgasm rushing and he pulled his cock out of Potter’s mouth. Then he was fucking coming, coming on Potter’s face, his open mouth, his tongue. Potter had even kept his eyes open, the hopeless fool, but Draco knew he would probably never forget Potter’s green eyes looking up at him in this moment.

“Fuck,” he whispered. Potter grinned up at him, brilliantly. Draco took in shuddering breaths and ran a thumb through his come on the corner of Potter’s mouth, smearing it.

“How was it?” Potter rasped out. Potter’s voice was gone from Draco’s cock—if that wasn’t the hottest thing Draco had ever heard, he would sell his soul.

“Potter, you have a lovely career in sucking cock ahead of you, if you want it,” Draco smirked down at him.

#tis the damn season wip snip #posts i actually wrote

[mrkis]

another twlg ask from @thetypingpup!!! i had to put your ask in a separate post again bc i didn't want to clog up anyones dash!! ellie.. your essays abt twlg forever make me laugh. i have no fucking comment to this but please i need to show everyone LMAO

Me again with another long ass statement bc I can't shut the fuck up hey 😅😅. I've been doing more thinking (bc ofc I have) and I got fixated on the thought of mc and jaemin being the same, like both being troubled and flawed but having relatively good intentions at the end of the day, and both being shit at communication. I'd agree with that, if there were and equal amount of instances where their shitty communication or shitty actions to damage. So far, based on what we've seen in the text, it has not been equal. It's true that they're in similar boats, but they're definitely not on the same level of flawed.

So far we've seen mc exhibit a lot of care for jaemin (easily read as too much care given their agreed upon arrangement), care that we just haven't seen jaemin exhibit to the same degree. In fact, once we got into Jaemin's head, it recontextualized a lot of the sweet moments between the two (at least sweet from mc's pov) and soured them. One example being that first fingering scene. Mc has already perceived something akin to adoration in jaemin's eyes and already started feeling things. That was her interpretation. Meanwhile with Jaemin his attitude was that mc was just someone willing to let him play with her pussy and had a mouth he could imagine wrapped around his dick. Or another example being when mc got Jaemin the polaroid camera. We have yet to see a "polaroid scene" where Jaemin does something that nice for mc. We've also seen jaemin's actions negatively impact mc and really hurt her, and that just hasn't happened the other way around to the same extent (yet bc idk what's planned for the future), so it seems super one-sided. It's been disproportionate from jump, which makes for nuanced and interesting stories absolutely, but it's still disproportionate nonetheless. Because of this many of mc's shortcomings have been more implict and rely on conjecture in a way that Jaemin's don't, while Jaemin's have been very explicit thus far in both POVs.

But idk if mc's biggest problems are that she cares too much and doesn't speak up enough, then that's not nearly on the same level as Jaemin. With the whole exclusive proposal, that man wanted to completely cross one of mc's main boundaries and misrepresented the reason why to get what he wants. Withholding the whole Mia reason is lowkey giving fraud I cannot lie, bc it was such a material reason as to why he wanted to be exclusive (and from his inner monolouge, it was the main reason). The reason he said out loud, the thing that he actually fixed his mouth to say to mc, equates to him wanting access to mc's body whenever he wants. How nice 😬. And then later when mc apparently "agreed" to become exclusive 1) she never explicitly said that, and 2) she had TAKEN ERIC'S PILL (I'm screaming about this bc i havent seen people point that out on here yet), and you can see she was influenced by it later with the three way kiss. You can't just change the terms of an agreement like that if you're not of sound sober mind, nor without explicit confirmation that's at the very least verbal. And in that public kiss after the whole Eric display, exclusive wasn't even on mc's mind in her pov when she kissed him. But who was thinking about or considering that? Not Jaemin's selfish ass that's for sure. He got what he wanted, and then later he had to walk around telling himself that was some sort of mutual agreement to make himself feel better. Jaemin sir, if you have to convince yourself like that, then your ass knows that was not mutual you're fucking up. Actually i checked all the parts again and mc never actually said they were exclusive. Other people say it, and she considers it,, but she never outright said it. Oh it just keeps getting worse.

And then I just looked again and remembered this too, but the main reason Jaemin made a show of kissing mc at the party, and even went in the first place as Miwoo pointed out (and convinced mc to go bc she didn't want to at first), was to rub their arrangement in Eric's face. In his own words it was all for show, all before she agreed to have public displays like that mind you, so he still crossed the boundary bc she didn't agree to that shit yet. And all of those actions are of course very considerate of him, very not shitty person thing to do, much respectful of the woman he allegedly cares about😬. Has mc done anything like any of that to Jaemin? Or maybe that's coming in part 6.2? And even then I don't think whatever is coming can outweigh what jaemin has already done. So far mc lied to her own detriment (the whole eunbin thing at the party) while jaemin lied to get what he wants.

Ok Cas I swear I won't keep spamming your inbox lol. I wanna feel for his pain, I do, and I wanna believe that he's not a terrible person, but his thoughts and actions thus far prevent that. Everytime I look it just gets worse and worse for this man, and while I can't see any deliberate manipulation or real malice, he is EXCEEDINGLY selfish and VERY much a dumbass and it's manifesting in some truly terrible ways. The sweetness turned sour is turning to bitterness and I'm just sad for mc more and more. I'm excited to see what's to come ofc. I'd love to see if the playing field evens itself out in later parts. But yea I WILL be suing this man I want my punitive damages and pain and suffering compensation. When I catch him in these streets it's on sight 😤.

#fic: the way life goes #thetypingpup #[moots🧷]

[libidomechanica]

Untitled Composition # 8796

A ballad sequence

               I

Ill fitter for Babylonian     hard. And if we will not guess that spot of Treason no     more? By the seat of blisse?

               II

When glides her the fatigue of cologne.     Then she stars whom rage dropt for my own. My silver lead     the haunted lights with

internal Homer! Her win his poor     for hand you did in my woe. And light scatter to be sent     to the redden’d an ermine

he had warned much gives a monstrous     mountains flashed these pleasure, and with mutual appetence     subject Lute! Bombs, drums,

guns, bastions, and let appeare; for     love, thought, for we weeping? When most o’ the discontent. I     there honour had hopes and

swell; and we win, we willing, swear     she could she be proud rose? If you wish some preferr’d. And, all     wherefore her small grown

down the women wild Hippolytus     Leander lay, when they will comprehend the pride the     silver. And to hand, as

kissed it is each Gazettes; but     will singing That ole Ace down the highest was vowel-     keen and Ops began to

crosses trouble your ears or what     you can’st see by glimmering past world so fill the morning,     drilling,—for deeming

humanity’-most true, because you     and I fell. When I heard to growled and that she whole one, and     all its decay, as in

a nursing he may there who have     prayed me upon tranquil muse upon those weighs the nesting     and the lawns beneath the

first i’ the dead; seen it and no     more strook. Plucking sit, chirping lists were deem’d the greedily     assays, loving fire from

the right in Truth’s beautiful and     woman but for the size and quench’d volcano, o’er the skulls     borne thy shadow of a

God. Comparison to continued:     Your old age’s tedium make speech falles it the     horrid preserved their

desire in the sword is this is     always kisses, even in sleeker time to praise, the loser.—     But it might; yet think

upon her bristling the windy     jest had fix’d his plump cheeks and wat’ry star, entitled of     thy silvered used us

thine eye, thine eyes should her love     only, this writer of her was the dark land; and yet God     could not lack, nor any

bed to chlorophyll, and Death in     your handmaid fills approaching several postscript dashed my     deathless sort of danger.

               III

If you rebell to my new cells,     is more a general countenance made my hand, and drew: part     revenged forests, where

the great pretty sure undone. The     mirror’d small in paradise, nor in his we pass me by     it and the merely wields

easily the causes young     disciple. ’ Bones supersede lovely light of smoke of Hero     dwelling words but dead, my

one came backyard licks us. ’ Kisses:     thus may the top-gallant a soldier sat in the blue     sea’s border were nought be

better stept, that is call! Cuckoo,     jug-jug, pu-we, to another plant a soldier, one the     wrong: you the wine but here

I nigher set? Love is most thou     deny’st me when thinking water doth. On our eyes within     the soldier, moved withal.

               IV

Who was real of heavenly sings.     My hearts, incest, rapes. Go: Cyril seeing a conductor.     And you in bloom. Because

I change thou hast then run out of     his braine of great ocean, while yourself thus honour, angry     that story? Which with as

fierce and Lang Syne. The camp! That of     Ilion, glowing the light eyes corrupt by overtrodden     valleys, she, instrument.

               V

Your praised their haram education     and round of the learned him through Courland among the     crying of poets can

ever countenance, thrusts him quickens     with hammered upon the noble sister, daughter rolled     on delights not there was

you begin to safely cross-line     shouldst charme of louers. Mortality, who held me up naked     together. Ye satyrs

and honey I shall presaged good     thought revels, to one all goodman shrink from the convert time.     Let maps too moist to go.

A verb dancing in that might pelisse,     when took a little known to arm, and slain, live, dear! And     go; but three wild petition

is mercy was. Ah, what all     mov’d; from each other, and be able for bliss to sit in     college to climb the world

would knows I can proven abortive     but they rose, and drive with a bag of almost, despatch     which presence enough for

the proudest peasant smile or steeps     his eyes in one to open, won’t. On her lids: again vowed     spotless was Moslem, too,

but you—she’s colour royalty’s van.     Near thy delight, that on your child by your vision grew. Thus,     have calls murder in their

name thou forgive us, I suppose.     How good for here, God wot, wot not daunted my leaves linnet     fondly presence gies

that of the ashes, dust; love     abated, the cold, and promise did not my own voice had but     kept the whispers of one

tears be: just a nail. To sounds flaring     hand where is deducted. In conflict with a faint reflect,—     that in that hiatus

maxime deflendus’ to forget     him, you wear are figures, the witches may word is thing’s     light, and shaft that caused a

whole as she wished, and that since thee     now that he was no more! I pass’d beyond come it might he     lay twelve sphere, they lay. Which

unanimity, that played, and     with thou art; I said their cause in hell her fancies scum, and     once adieu; nor dark—years

as much inferior, as the     sceptred race; and you offering had two better; and lady     vntrue, being greater in

the renew our owne fault, and into     the clock of what I saw it following three time with     a wit, that understand

till night had laid he, for unawares     come the streets of the chilly ones, where for my pain, the     same swear, though wind and bar.

               VI

And crushed as the cloud; blood of wrong.     To sit in knot which haunt the same chanced, It is the soul     pass the desert rove? Is

the can descried. Made me swears as     thou fooles, or industrie: of foes, the sullen art     exercised in an apple-

leaves me hope of this secret heavens     endure, but Sire, that would the morn; but when too little     ones leapèd and all naked

gloves; for ever love that sting.     And my eyes are falling on a divan. To six A.     However, I forget these

were made, why so hushed! There shipwrack     treasure to see thee, and once all-famous far,—whether not     her eyes; but my verse, with

endless oath is to feed on Jove     itself might trace the less loud, imagine you wert nobly     spurn’d for the church’s might hand.

               VII

Plucking thee; can’st see by glim’ring     a condition night. That of Jove itself too short, spears in     the sage, by my trouble bright her pageants: but this fled, but     long so choosing witchcraft or art. Sweet lass, sweet; they who     physicians mend or God to

refer to. Is freighted even     so firm, who, the sure and we entered in, and thy head, and     dance, as things—for I have heart should do. For how do I hold     he calls it The Night on: in every words oration’s screech     owl to my lips. That have

for a broke from fifty, till dawn     of dangerous in his wilfu’ grief and there is some stranger;     remembering I would understand those hills roll of ancient     cheek which none other, where the price. He common dirt, are     there: make speech, and out a

station, to attack’d by my ears,     thoughts as this is my light lurch as wide world were in her praised,     I hate the flood that lid, full bring in chief of Errington     and be my love. Each shall prize, sae comes a single cord, but     pure as the pleasant me

them? Wakes: ’ and Bis Millah! Is nowhere     dwell; no, child; she is gives the palace is close withdrawn     onwards to hell to a rock and lady vntrue, your fading’     martial song sang you not read they added great joy unto     his robe you still his be

honest meaning to the voice less     and many men. With such a roar than with the stayed, and, ever     would have I know whether of the naturally lov’d in     battle as they that love with ooze, and aided alone in     the magic, and modestly

they made better the proud brow     dost mould, but heard you do any single life and from only     Christian she meads; where Cupid; and such love’s seat of Jove     did not, grew my tongue untaught theeues do rob, but breath! The cast     upon the blow struck for

all they thousand made the taxi     girls. I sweare by plead your boister’s blood, with grapes out upon     it just stepped on the flocks by shall sweet, after rolled, but strictly     held so firm, who, thou dost possess’d, and louder compounds     we ourselves hold him once

to join with his little mortals!     All things that he hope, die,— how happy show us what there     is since so renown, and, thy mother. They might be betters,     although heavy body now a shepherds which with sparkled     the hole, ’ would undertake

the roots together. And I will     not so sweet; the moment to loan, in tremble the wave&we     will be light. Thou ruthless marbled plumes are reeking water-     land offered him flush of you. He answered, touch, did she ought,     but for me, for glory,

this juncture. Silence she lovers     known to meet these were his. Ever and truth is like a fancy     to under at nights’ fees. And knock down their examples     of the pleasures grieve not reject, and there opposed at     otherwise. The whole gazettes;

but too short, thou sooner beauties     stood from Venus’ sweetly on her little child the sword     to sword, the moment to drilling to do other Phaeton’s     time will not fight with a slight be undone, i’ll bring that was     at last; and tell her lep?

               VIII

Witness past thou must forget you.     Such sallies too much ye strike: thereon immediately     buildeth therefore, in some

night that is too high, sdeath! Be     unimpeded by black night, I wish some vexation; but heal     the day to live ever

of heavenly he had our daughter:     the grey downs dullest on the fiat of death. Man to     shun her. That still went to

dreaming evil, I hate to scare     the purest Plato; by Tillotson, and will play he trye?     To let they the sun and

swoops the vulture: is nowhere you     delight of maidenheads and as a yoke all pleasure some     one she death ratify

your wings. My lips must err: but Juan     posted onto them; and criticism combing out her     eyes than deaf and Counterbalance

human trammels freeholds,     in a trice from the magic power I risked what the complained     into his waiting

teeth, the bold Churchman’s family of     Christian she offering fame and biting to the town surrounded     and pestle. To the

dews of god, as e’er would mountains     of power, it was not a dreamed I was the world: the fresh     there and in her ways. Unique

to train scatter if the fooles     self, he thou shalt more than all though your hair; and the rushes     life: ’ I mused beyond

there; though the others pluckt, wherewithal,     but if you would give it a trice, you withdrew the end     of adders, repair’d anger

and fond of length now is leaguer’d     both earth and her honour be as strook. Blue like a blow.     ’ I said Lamia, what

I would never gone, is love you     ’cause thee. Well the ware of harness, issue: let our soul with     you to send to his radiant

Hero dwelt at my feet warm     before. My body was but cruel: yet so merry! Yet—gentle     parle: and I own

mouth once in the raw cold earth and     however quick a growth most on the deeper clothed in man’s     tomb excited awe, whose

boughs the peroration and sing     for breath, for a chariot, herald, shone like Banquo’s offsprings     sit smiling her eyes

than dust! To wag their hand thence. Made     for your little dissipated; and looking from my sovereign,     watch’d not. He show the

little as the sheath, and swoops the     margentines, and sighs, and a moment was in further     damn hard. Of flowing coral

grove, in mourn according the     sun determined the one child shall be waded, to venge the     prince the same thy brigadiers.

Such for a blow! And bickers     in thy Idolaters at this rank before will bet you     canst the town is gone, now!

               IX

The still I struck by the lift my     military tower his arm-chair to fears, which never     them that Earth to her beauty

dwelt at my visits; but for     Lamia answer as he to their women use, or sicken’d     in heart? Still I die!

               X

Of your marriage feast this medicine     a heau’nly for only at night Pinto—Mendez     Ferdinando—still pass the proud full of your humbly without     sensual; for we were.

               XI

Naked truth, I have done, yet won     she wild shall thy shades not to do without that sometimes, when     we shall I breathing in

heaven fet, would have done, embroidery,     somersetshire my pensive Sara! Of young captain     waits hungry bit; pardon

asked, she drowning songs sake. As     he were incompletely and sword of how to the     alphabet on his ample

lungs, the air, as rare a man such     are much his might not perfume describably a mild Baillie,     or men of pith, sixteen

call’d up again, the boards oft     in sign her little hard, you saw me on Psyche’s babe, my     back, feigned slipped me; and there

than their nest. Wrought, wrapped for scarce be     fair, bravery thicket bleeping immortal serenely     by one moment of charm

that high-built anew,—yon look upon     the wolf rages and ye sallying over his heart who     like morn the fish in the

Cross, his to swell.—That in some cornice-     wreaths: how she letter what you luld he picked the treasure     of the who am now

escaped, ’ was to be diseased to     display one’s favorite vow. As heard, whose whose airy silence     wise stars in vision grow

rich, meanings—through Sestos to be     a butchery, some hidden it grew dim, meridian     heigh-ho! Lo, you are from

the place of her neck, seen up-close     through the braver at night, so placed upon that I would prevail’d,     shall I never be

part; rue on the Christianity;     which hath had twelve-fingers did imprint that half the day     because thing, most sweet smell

the page, enwrapped from the day,     come will he strongly ground, his own below, are of a hoary     now, and beneath his

twilight is Cupids shaft that fills     up in her; she tale: great caught to writes vnfit. And like Jacob’s     or to a pension I

love you because the paine records     vnto the Muse perceivest, with one blooming up the abyss     of his time again, be

it seemed to rise, such truth enlight     thou live ever—or else to me, will we mode in which said,     that I am no woman’s

name before sighs depart—and     also, we could retained something which, lightly taut in the     gray sea and they butcher.

               XII

Of insolent comming rocked, like     other were be blood, with no special legend of the more     the year’s pleasure smile; time has been black. Yet I though careless     vow to prized among the

champagne and cunning with stroke and     Helvoetsluys, the one Friday to love at all thy soft falls     melodious bone, the town where took a little that     incarnate lie, would have a

race, incense. I know eternal     Homer! Is it goes. Whilst I, my side of painful eyes are     seeking issues from her baith by land, young fellows of my     wine and be not Helen

in dark night, and a widow mountains;     a heaven grace, that well as bright of such wars would be     able to the insomniac listening I know you, or     any wicked my chain’d

wi’ plundering; as quickly fades     away she knew not too dear, turning ray that has been a     lodger, my humble knapsack a’ my wealth of air, this a     little of those tops the

found so belaboured jasper     pannel fuming stay, the lovers had Venus’ sweet; the moment     the heigh-ho! Where he had been done? That I am quite     sureness lies, yet t

is but again, but he took than     Hero would produce the taper, my babe, my God. And know     no farther pageants: but to cold wipers along them to     say, It was mute and doors

broad sons; with your ends: At length I     read. And silver tinct. Freeze, at once thought high over then the     pen that morning, or me, I am done, exact use of     ruin! Watching his was

getting on his nod, as many     men. Hair, murmurous verse, ever any slight with me; he’s     a health to his spread, with the deep, where born against the town     which none to the tramp o’er

youth of so complish, Frenchman’s tremble     the wind and lectures. Valleys, grove where he woods, filled; where     Venus’ glass and threw, and quickens when dream I glanced, nor to     this flaring orator.

               XIII

To a laugh, never we must among?     In its soul, assayed to see her Ambrosian pap, and     no assistance can we find young he make me touch the     beautiful was a gracious

mountains murmur ran throughout, and     much drooping, try my she, instruments their secretaries,     in sleep, and that’s thou saw me one day bright to climb in after     that once again the

hallow, so narrowly their own     mind wash they part into a firmament glistered with     solemn gloom of worlds on world destroyeth. Hard words, too, but you     danced to the screwball rocks,

seeing a battle’s brief a rich     in rubles, blush; and the dolor on tiptoe through at the     gray sea and slain, o’er it was they part which thy greatly err     were the strangely tone,—whence

touched upon you, or a strong, this     duty to jeer: while both be used, and I will become, and     only forced the tick itself discontent? It that were stars     and he had been a light,

so place me zones are figures, would     rejoice, and fond of lips: but, as short was on a boggy     walk, he heavy cheerless hair, and then towered in vaine three     fire; for thee the ills throaty

hummingbird! But doubt, but mad     way. All my gentle raiment, would be found nudgers, round that’s     what I was nothing cart as an hour of Prince de Ligne have     powers, torch of a sin

far worse to say; ’ and to Barbadoes,     which himself’s so dirty and bolted their yielded, wronged     strength the zodiac run; at whose name though so much out as     usual terms of men.

               XIV

So, she wise curbs. I have structor.     His dangling eyes of earth and his temple, saying, did paine.     Her eyelids close, and

underneath of a monk, saffron-robed     threescore; cure the spectre of water and sail’d, and cried, each     sitting nigh done, the oldest

said: Wait up! Were no diseased     to be cooling rocks: part from the streak the rich in his     inestimable gem. What

she saint he would celestial noise     of orient pearles Ruby-hidden rode we the little     for evening; long stars

and fain would. Save, what duty to     the summer breath bugs me as one ashamed to pith; ’ but t     is true, the winter’s Hill!

               XV

Where is the dictator strutting     pleasant thine influence between my own; his mothers,—that,     mermaids sported with wives,

precious meat. Now let the time of     this, alas, is merry wine and not limit much by poets     who had a good use.

               XVI

Spring, gnawing the waves among.     Ye goatherd gods, then learned round then: at home it or miss’d,     we failing, Oh. Suppose.

The bee upon things were must. Had     no tongue untaught each other themselves, closets to pleasure.     Like a wild war’s dead; they

answer they clashed to dresses; tell     the reach’d the middle-aged like effect. Love like enough     to prove parent’s evening,

I thinking offence. Told the means     and hushed! And then new maim’d to the Muses fill with they would     he cast a show? Each in

my temple is; thought, the pleasant     thing! Then run out and fine mark in counted up into the     corner secret for men!

               XVII

Soon was much gives the halls, and at     last more of law before sigh, and mair we’se ne’er to bed. Want     to be the after a

spare, when you did but kept holds my     sovereign’s sovereign shakes it and now a want to the savage     mind, alas! More, yet day,

in sad reality, show’d at     Scots to pearl, whiplash them propensity there with his heavens     endure, that’s hair. The

sacred dew; Proteus carven silver     leave us leaves whose true’; swiftly flew them not, I must     forget the errant nothing,

height daughter treasures grieve not     war: lest water, and the moon is mercy was. Be not Helen     in dew of killing

dove. Worth give them both, different voice,     but now there. A simply disinterested men to be know     through Prussia Proper, has

lately came round, we often told     us all.—Who caus’d my anguish beyond her face made for     honour raised there again.

Golden earth, with words you we’ and     sword, the sun that we both we sneer’d is turned to drew. But always     kiss it, sdeath! She look’d

their arms. And in his neck his first     was as we rode and mists are in his arms to meet your cities     cannot stirred. His

houseless charm much bright eye several     worth its hint, which one is forth cast; and to Barbadoes,     say, mine, if these plead you

haste Hero wrung, till Cherry ripe     themselves not nor from fifty on a crust. Read a book there     having three to this enough,

no matter what is called meekly     from pride the highland droops upon the world if silence,     dumb conferr’d. Thee, sweet

Eloquent the girl: and the absence     enough six days when yawning down instant louers. Blaze of wit,     whether join. In aspirin.

               XVIII

Though ‘t was to peaceful service.     Yet she makes one direction, and, right, with ceremony     meet, for its crop with deeper was the color when I sleep,     when my heart is true the starlight glanced, nor managed ladies’     false and he makes him quick,

let me visit Hero betrays     poor heaven, and her face and day, receive a not our might     thronged Dianaes traitors—none the book you’ cried, all in due     ordering; now Mars, now that he asleepe did but dearly morning,     I thought, and one, or

boast he came. Still the congelations,     and we wished purpose, firm though so much thou dost possessed     they grew? Be bless to God’s Son, as the King roared make Elysian     shadows of absence subject was to prevent out all     the need wise stake it; that

else, I must allow; even so,     being bold to eye those juggling eye, and sword and spreads of     gravity because the branch and lift on Passion, passion     for the first—light forth a prisoner, or—but it is yet againe.     A stately lost both

by bower, descendent and great     cup of wit, who know no other cover me. So good my     coffee Black want to gaze upon thy Idolaters with     the sky sagged like a snares throng to her proper purple clouds     the ether join. Began

to sounds like effect on an English     ground supported, secundum artem: but a toy to     London had won. I swallowed his controlled, but mad way. Love     is thine would them with all that gentle, and steal a kiss I     want to Time. Die, as true,

but now the cause? The kingly     Neptune’s glass. And she felt that in their backs, till Cherry net,     told the young monarchs do from me fly to do as must eat     conquest, as it was, great business, smelling their veins; their fault     in which none the fire that

in the rain, frost and fight; flush’d, and     Smith was better the light. To rob a living its own life’s     green, maud in your power that great business, afflicting the     woman with my heart-struck for honour: for beside the mark,     the rested to the devil

now not help, and harmony     without all its garden when small grown out as they did     excepting me into her maid, down from pole to leaue the foole,     thy voyce there is mute, where Cupids shall have been poison     himself a fancy will

forget the time just now echo,     assonance; and upstaring and tropics in hell on fire     of the air, too dear maids were every bar; but my kings a     bird on every likewise then the horse and lift this. And as     aught except men’s public

fault in his better is the wears     in the young Leander’s amorous rites of her name I am     impossible friend remedy this bed beside their     count eternal even a mailen plenish’d nations,     batteries were startled back

into swells what any times. Is     now were by blacksmith, i’ve sailor sings. ’ You shoulders on a     soldier put on, and the night with that all charm’d river among     the old love will comprehension proved deathless soot bestows     a clouds odorous.

               XIX

As Auld Lang Syne’ bring the heavy     cheek all on me, to whom heaven fet, would she wild shore and     sways. You, like a winding

love you because I change to poor     soldier? Shamed, I say this, one this rhyme, which loved you, then we     meet. Yet what therewith

Leander sitting out, he     commended him. But lovers know. Wrought his modern battles to     learned round plumes are banquet-

room shone while that so they made,     why we need not till Cherry ripe themselves for the first     detachment of culture, of

paper: there waning her climate     grows lesson against the cold regiment, which drooping, most     guilty of slaughters in

the found? She told of cup and in     hell. I play till open eyes, ’ who, while thy hair about the     touch a versified

Aurora Borealis, and after     than he do? Goings of Leda, shall ride you pour tea     with what do mislead the

house from every scholar poor; gross     the empress, and sages call’d to grey; mould be know what’s my     Julia’s breathing eyes may

weep ye by thy long, too high hill,     deafening I know not won, yet ne’er youthful stately mountains.     These machines. Three paces

measure—the chamber clothed in     Stygian empery of joys; and bride in fact, that are not:     waive you mine. Relented

a fine mark, then dreamed I was their     fare; and I’m come night and seemed not we find but that the shepherd     swain. No more from poems

yet men desire! His that     in the hearing breast, unless was glad with a fading’ martial     fife; and bickers in

the cloud, and the bar stool, downing     in the houses gay, a martial fife; and called gravity     because I do swears ago.

Who on Love’s ripening to be     a Jew. Madness, who late guest, as if thou shalt more I had     twelve enchantment came sall

be his rude, why of a kiss, and     t’ other, ere thus replied our own detention possible     not to be fill’d soil.

               XX

” Herewith as from that I wonder!     Worse to feel theefe! Who calculation; ’ and there wings! I did;     and bickers in my body downs dull, that doth a curious     in my heart-honored

Maid! For long off distress, and hushed!     And now to them, made moan through the rest had been that verses     dight, clover wrinkle, or to and put Hellespont, guiltless     Falstaf says let us

kiss. Was you be; have loved. There by     pleasure thus deluding us. By this I would come and     by poet. By which you take him. Answer about the came:     therefore us, that you

as a fine to whom I shall have     a brig, a schoolboy’s whine, and you all phantasies, nor his     fatherless, and mere philanthropic din, for from thence can     descript dashed my beauty

on the lightly exprest, stript to     crosses trouble bright eye, and called it and mark thy hair displease.     That lovely in. About here and kisses, sae comes home     and cold, in a nurses;—

kill a forests, my lips. The fled,     in all scandal now and bright and buried in the last farewell     each lucid pannel fuming stared at the poor girls. Thus     we sit together when

I was, thought high as though my life     from brows, silks to me all pale club of the sheath, unmeasure     which comes the wrathful fancy. Then the untill’d from her price.     And so rare cannot stay;

the earth, to see him repented     as if a lonely kid in a knife, dissecting too high     stately buildings in placed upon tranquil, though numbing     connections, as e’er would we

sharp speak with potency. His great     business, to dally with as fiery-short was seen. Take     likes a stone-shot laid his worth creeping the deep-recessed flowers,     euen hell. I have had

remember he’s high hill, my hearts     united, and branches rose a nurse of champagne and knights     with child by your old regiment’s window blew up, a second     wedlock; and once gone

to fold me over ear, flatter,     in solemn groves sweet-gard’n- nymph, which at time. Naked feet and     every readers e’er was much importune thing, were his anger     if that capacious

peece you shalt heard of true-love’s force     love I hold that’s hair, to share our flocks by shall not forget     there were no greatest cheek, a speak, my face and I worried     your joy: more, and by tongue.

’ Everlasting his brows at him,     they who was heaven, blue quilty. And never take it will     comprised and in thy fair feather, was graves a grateful this     paltry sheet of bloodstreams.

               XXI

Courage, poor bridal-gift a scourge.     Can harlotry maid half- unquench the fought him wild: not comes     back, his plump cheeks. An old jockstrap. And doth fill their music     the shades o’ dawn at nights to us. Just as than deaf and     Chokenoff, and gave no

friends; yet in vain, and, and in the     proud man through Courland ancient cheeks. Repeat this mind the morning     glassy bower, descend to dash therefore they, that leaped     lively heat, gallop amain, and prone she was nothing my     Starre, beauty alone in

the duration’s valley is a     fault cast me broken night apples rose up, as from toucht with     azure veins of thee, divides and fourscore can die. With     reasonable hurt to be. The man; and there, extremely hand oft     look on the lists of those,—

mother minds, she was they missed him     to be done. Is but all women; they are, shall joy but one     should farther dream of treaty or night readily will pass     they came, and roll, all earth, with his Agrarian laws of     my bosom understand

is a borough Courland am     about, and sleep speaking up a life beats down, thought with laughing.     His speeches full of sight to keep her courtly nor kind,     and we win, we fail, and on thy frozen sea agate spreading     the destroy the bright

of conquest, should helpe, most precious     naturally progeny, as going by in tower he     got by the floor she wept, the woods, and sallow and ponders     by night deems himself’s so dirty and drama played and swell.     Not come, we must country

in all that he were desecrate     to her exultation grow white with push-pin, for pearl he     turned to the golden fulness at morning, and it was strooken,     yet what the eyes are rare and red, with his be he from     ferule and honour.

               XXII

—So justly dreamed of fight as before     I am forst such transcendent and woman like to     awaited, fifty wisest mountains; long since you are for     the can be thy brand never

take yourself a fan to sounds     flaring and strangled titter, death. And with him aid, my verse     want her bosom, is Jenny alone in the hills roll of     future, let herself despised

I with his despatches. Far     from whence nothing in her; she the elder jack Smith was born     by this the millions, batteries by rude pen can harlotry     maidenhead. To whose

vaunt, survey’d the greet these cruel: yet     she sits eternal evening. At ever afresh green ruin,     rusty to jeer: while our eyes in the evening to the     whose we for your ears or

with theeues thought beneath here it little     grim, and not close all there was not thou not in our mailen     plenish’d Russian army of the misers keep it; being     points, and prone shouting,

the real fish in us at merits     slightly, with a slight in the day because to the noise     of healthful years, till of a bee! Within a cavalier.     And I do sweare by one’s

going at every hymn this, now,     its pedestal, all privacy when it grew rather trees     branched with sorrow toiling cleanly I myself to charms on     this great smiled Neptune felt.

               XXIII

He found there was once against time.     A flower the Hesperides; whose treacher, sister’s dwelling     their little Leila,

which don’t looked so dear for honour’d     in the cold ran their brains, and many others do greet the     fierce any retrospection

clung the light shoulder bare, and     when we’ve involvèd others at thy much rather love had somewhat     today is my breast

day, where unhappily as after     change the halls, a brotherly fear of electric clouds     befringe their wintry brings

as they took leave ere long’d in     dubious shapes committing it rest upon it just th’     enchantment of her naked

as the evening by the blossom     blows. They slept fast the errant note to hear the beam a     lonely night consider,

whom head a book of forests, long     debate; but I must that would the morning in his worth retained,     there’s no recognition

of weapons, as e’er was     mere very little the world would perceant, sting, too weak, for     a cannot tell the random

gales and thou witching for you,     gentleness lives, becomes in the Muse at all you pleasant     music of a dreamed he’d

written upon his holy rite     for the Baltic’s wife who take you think upon his back with     me, my sweet ore while fluent

Greek a vowel’d understand.     Would chain, as we roll, in an honest spied her minion: but     the soldier, one their care.

               XXIV

I come: no vertue hath every way.     Done, embroidered peace them? He answer’d, as if that our     maidenhead; yet as a hot proud horse and joys of earth retain     thy fooles self, whate’er the other she turtle but organs     to kill Desire.

By the sheathing else was blawn, and     glow on this flea’s death, her tears your reported in an anti-     climax: ’Oh! Then before, in saying, is the play trick     of the Northern hills echoèd. Enticing like a speak, my     mother, Sire, ’ I cried

in neither men must hallucination,     Nay, nay, such loved? That cloud, through we inhabiters     of my boy feels; whose vaunt, such sweet hence, nor blue devils or     should be this father. Know not well as Mother, and her     lovelier was virgin kissed

her but heal the faery-roof, made     a serious love the circles moved them still the Florentine:     ye monarchs fight, so that short was nothing! I dream that     no night. Suppose. The basilicas rise in Jerusalem,     Constant Sea tells what

bound into foreigner or native     place Leander’s tongues will go with blows north is placid, for you     I love still? Of true-hearted; I pass’d this sing for the surgeon     came up naked and fair; misshapen stuff are of their     baldness close with the third,

in that cheeks, and, staggering parley,     to belong the second object Lute! You wear to assail     they’re overruled by all they’re over dew on every     limbs of love; but Arac rode we the bar stooping rimes a     mortars ready to assist

the exterior steep pine-     bearing you praise to love you It makes me, doth ships and leave     ere lost, to martial line between thrilling, I abides themselves     do cry. Deserts our eyes may remember him! Of     insolence he would sighed, pulled

their care. Ever love’s regard. And     of such a streams, goodnight long as I wait. To plain house. As     put to fold me overrules by rule by form to head-quarter     of the congelations have dreaming of the horror     of the foremost oppression

you, gentle parle: and this     odd labyrinth; or as a ditch below, are of love itself     the fat pillow’d, as purpose, who goes? And at other’s     rained, or so it seem’d a horrid equinoctial looks with     their habit I picked their

light as beating he dying: kind     is bare as little din, unless will one rag, displaced,     secundum artem: but that are. Not humble valleys, grove where     on me, to leaue the last, captive nymph, which my precontraries     implies: she trembled;

she lifted up into themselves     do cry. Sister: lie not tyranny, and all his breast, and     we heard the blind and make speechless man! In one that incarnate     lie, and her image on the elder loved, she put off     from heavens, they don’t look

on a sodger ne’er to the     innocence and mony a widow’d nation with message and     Helvoetsluys, their goals for a churches through, and so like! She,     instead of silky hair about it might thy early walk,     he hasting, too highest,

as frankly they reposed, saving     me a new direction by tinkling of the greater     far, that his soul by cheating missive grows. Don Juan, instead     of power in humble coolness deeds we ourselves for     Alas, is mercy was.

               XXV

Leander now, rebell to me.     A gently swannish mee. To mind the solid foot of earth     to her wrought his mercy was. At they rang on that he scales;     but her breath so hoary,

may lives in the equinoctial     look at which your music; with Carlton, or disorders of     their baldness up all intricacies. Love all thistled and     saw the selfsame delights

not tyrannie, if rule and nubby,     you have dismiss’d me; and knit in college and inward grace     for rather feathers at discern how far as well beseech     arise; come wine within

the banks o’ Coil, I though his secret     bowers? How the riches where honour thro’ the comforter,     will splash the sea and strike his described there better them.     Because a dormant

alkali, although clothed into his     watches, and darkened the strip mall, I put, he blew and in     her heart monitor, the youth, and he knew the soft wool-woofed     carpets: fifty wisest

mount aloft in me to one     small intricacies. Best juice, let our best see by glimmering     his was Moslem, that you had not, became a posts, my     deadened me close my

troth, its love: she guests, cast he feeble     vassals of frail human clay and take my dreadful council,     in a trice from what should repented and red for his     line, empty the dint of

conuersation in the frosted     her waist, with stay! Is, learn her lovely in that is to reclaim     her win. I though his world hurts him, and I was almost     address off like an oyster

that lid, full of tenderly:     you haste, and her, beauty being full sail just not so young     dispel envy and be my Friends ouerpasse, vnseene, vnheard, and     credible. In order set?

Taste before. About its stately     been said things I love is more divine: to Linus, the one     Abydos; since Reason: thou, sweetly quick, she be princes     terse. Still! Which force his purses:

as Machiavel shows those     eloquent their bacon. But for that beneath each the gray kings     began to dash of gallop, drew the towering home at     Whining land fall short time.

               XXVI

At her hand-twenty-nine do out     from the August Celestial, and mark to the while that fault     was made their dancing the

forehead more I am strived     with his tranquil muse upon they begins Leander, the     fire, when deep sorrow marry.

How to mount a ladders, repair’d     flaws in folds of either settlementine: ye monarchs     fight; you will harsh ground and

fair; and all the winters into     displease to deny the storm come it or miss’d, by thy love     to burst out its

multitudinous sometimes with an     untamed my soul, his lovely star when yawning dreaming of     women, anon, that them

by the Pagans who that question     of owls their hair and to Barbadoes, the slushy sand. Than     Dis, on her dies. I play.

               XXVII

‘Twas Apollonius—from her proof.     For Jock of those eyes within that cannon duly set rose     over, can’st that come may

to him whisper’d how he suffers     accompliment Nikolaiew regiment day heaved up herself     to aught forth plunge in

every flower of her cheeks and     yet t is buildings in pleasure nor she castles, to my     heauy mould, I say my

Innocence and agony’s fortune     felt only word brings folded voice had been raise less faithfu’     sodger’s wrinkled pieces.

And biting to your faith dost exceed     the ocean’s foe. Of what are never! Death is honour,     and walked with mutual

pardon: I disturb their wings we     felt. I dreamed I was not slay me, nor your head, and lecture.     Shoulder, but darken a

while I talk of escalade, bombs,     drums, guns, batter a town surrounded. About the destroy,     and we caught with a bag

of all thee: I lay one’s own sweet,     like to leaue the night deeds a Tyran growing, o heaven     fill’d by Prometheus, and

ruin’d choirs, who is nourished.—Such     transistor to Long John has lately at last bright hand it was     in among piled air their

cheek reclined thus while Souvaroff,     determine he was once is closed me; surprise, such close, and     among than such is nothing

from the hills seem an anti-     climax: ’Oh! He flung at every souls of brave been. Had better;     the hours do, and fears—

you used she be proudest prince Arab     hard heart thro’ storm and desolation minted fingers’     feathers pluckt, when two Ukraine

of twins of the Seven Sleepers     passion’s valleys. I would perhaps at large blows north, with     him, Look! She ware not thus.

               XXVIII

) His spreads the pock, the blue quilty.     Small regard. The chastity hast enough thou madest me     the fire filched by Fame, the

ocean blacksmith, i’ve serv’d the     suddenly repent; thou wert nobly, and flustering light.     Desultory breeze has dried

her sighing, you and I think that     question, or weakness, for I can see not been moon is nothing     in thy honour’s in

a hurry of fitting through to     pleasure which mixes up vines, arms, and nubby, you say: back     rode we wish to knows us.

She also he that if all     men ride, we planet guiding. For you pleaded, which the lines,     and dies, who had lost you.

               XXIX

That great pretty birds say, thou withdrew     the rising in his arms and, for your judgment of the     will ring at the night, thy

branches sit, chirping light along     thee not the little as she slender up my present the     brink of late structed into

springs thoughts it some hindmost,     hail, and unhallowed fire, a passion for the sky went     grey, as you are women

use but when tis madding fears, I     rail’d at his worthless man! Saw this great philosophy’s aye-     babbling partake it is

a new skin and for him the oldest     said their Evadne; and I Don Juan was it his side,     high over earth, no, nor

care, or swear, than Russia’s royally;     and a dove’s pinions to which long, long and seen that inly     so, he look’d as the

horse he reply: she trivialest     point: not love to spoiled for you are splinters fair that of mine:     but, when the mere forsook

together. Constructive icicles,     as pitying the moon or plunge in the proud, or that     await, according twilight

of my skin and swoops they never     believe that on these may choose tops the wrongs like Jacob’s     or to the fiddling from

the fiddling from New York, lying     that he asleepe did she may show wherewith silence our     Cot o’ergrown with music,

am banished: and I Don Juan,     who was made his tongue untaught with a pinnacle doth makes     us to other, and

chain of gold i’ll brimm’d, as hell with     gallant a state was mine’— why am I now? White as wax     and promised him from the

poor hearts that thou art too cold dusty     floor; the living hoofs bare arms might foretell me, to and     fire, with apples, blushed across

the altar whence nothing sun,     the fresh green then, there, crowned with his loosened hair! Take not Cupid’s     gold too readily

will forgetfulnesse, that straight and     mark in command, Field-Marshal was Juan;—for let deeply knows     I cannon-shot off: we

esteemed not quarrel with those sounds,     while a glow upon the water, and cassia crowned, about     his loving the world

began to the fact’s about then     falles it to and there we’ll be true woman’s name might     substitute for a modern

Greek had remedy this I would     lead thee in propensity then maids dance, thrust from you shalt     find her sped, seeing it.

               XXX

Rose-maidenheads of guilt brought I     saw myself laid he, for unaware in folds of inclinations     we combat with

anguish, enjoy the fires of life     doth flashlight fade. Ye satyrs joyed with so fair foolscap crowned,     and there king; they opened

the first line, decides it, and of     Dutchmen never be paved. Worth is heart sophister, daughter     treasure, the sank into

the inner door, lay and golden     quill and lips, wherein the scent, so sharp scratch and made up old     age’s creed it any

men. Go: Cyril seeing his kicks     out upon my dresses; tell the mind; bubbles of the alert,     and false plague and could

the sea! We left on Passion’s shaggy     footed race; which did a famous fair, no more basest     mountain and beautiful

sight not do. Outside in like brow     in silent ears they know. A flocculent debauchee who like     return’d she had been as

our books into the desultory     breeze warbles, and all too pure, dutiful voice doth not     slay me, nor could renovate,

thoughts while our peace return to     her wild civil rights with flowers, for uninvited guise     broke and hour, went forth plunged

a perfectly pure and be my     love that burnt at one to which Sir Isaac Newton country     maidenhead. That move with

all these sodas or missing ivy,     two recite the joys in subiects wrongs; I said for Day     ne’er be proud rose up, and

cups full of tempting phantasy     proportions o’er whom remorse, makes me of every glance, and     seem’d that enfeebled mine.

               XXXI

Fancies be, by forced they praise, a     columns took a little like in every preparation,     could resign a mosque. Go to scullery, and steepy mountains,     in lucent came them climb o’er the murmurous verse begin     to say, It was of

conuersation leave her still enrich     the airy flight locking hero this is fixt as are     bereav’d me, harmes doe only their morions, and thine own bones     leapèd and never the tide? She woke it ill: he shower to     be this, on the short time

into them as he thou mayst in     me behold a foe in honour’s in a general, if he     runaways would perhaps thy force his line, decided thus     man-girdled her. Having pause besides that hateful than the     drooping, the righten fields

to heart of kissed there’s glasse: but     whene’er be perhaps thy foolish heart revenged on Jove     close, the streets of every guest; that one self doth flow in verse,     with his limbs which man a Mickey Finn and throws hers—for every     things rightly can die.

               XXXII

The heaven: but one selfsame day.     And grapple, saying, ‘Oh. Underneath this words, or magnetic     to swim into stock this is my woe. Serenely brightly     exprest, which at time them downe hard, too wide slaughter: lie     not a meteor in

his worse fault, by the nation led     doubtless services to dwells such thou in closets to praise,     a courier of those handsome strikes on heaps of cause? As     gallantly old, the told of Ceres hath everywhere—mething     game way before the

heard your sighing Castlereagh! I     must be a foot of euils, cradle of a noun. The surgeon     came up from the logic of the starfish in our little     din, unless t is buoyant you did pleasure of much towns     as if there’s not war:

lest way to lick—no discontented     to be accoutrements levels rude hands of what     decision: at human gore; and right talked with a potato.     Whose than is this charms or crest, strived, the breathing whale, crawling     up like sweet, O Love,

dear William did repay his knot,     by merely wields with that long hills, which alone intelligence     as victory while perpetual day so doubt how power     to feel! Of Danube’s length the animal. Stroke on     us at our bodies,

if I can special legend or     warm or come as a soldier, one their arms; there and for the     lion glares their baldness you like to it denies, he would     lie falls melodious book. And steal him to here hung the     death, spoke nor mind. And you

flew’st most. Old flames object was a     dash of curled plum. Requested, which do liue, thou, O warriors!     Quit; and I will not saue, murder, ’ and as a woman is     the spake, upon those lawns, goat fool, what gold; a belt of sightless     as trophies of the

ear-trumpets—Lycius’ arms chains and     kneeled but they added, Blame thou hast with breath, heroic     on a state the haunted up at her hard, too cold, and tried,     wild natural agonies, will harsh groomed and the sweet plight? My     though he was a praise, to

catch the charter of the camp and     stately azure o’ the water for me, for the sky, and     fine mark, then not die, but vicious thou shall sit in a thousand     done. Smooth muskets at hand and low, Here Cyril’s countenance     made of her, but vainly

store&wandering breast breathed her.     But now would have a race, that smote and break on vaine though dashed     your looking-glass she willing aground, or roams they did     discolour round, and all I breath our soul gan to warm us     on to break from thence to

Holland’s distress is cald, the other     than I longer roves sweet my possibilities     can one: the foe’s. Captive, yet, like an imperfect shade from     thou one. That every part who love themselves hold the summer     gleamed I was a cannonade

alone in hands. Answer which     meets all dreamed I was no man knows? ’—But aye she went down their     music, felt there at my mind at other rough. That royal     splendour of elected in the high stately azure palace-     floor, most night window

a funnel of yellow him to     attack? I did. Grief as summer, to you—the mode in which     breathe sweetest odor! To mend yet men from the soldiers spitting     of a new, prepare. Repeat the hole, ’ would be known; all     else, I must. In that are

your captive, save to gang, and spice     and slaughter shows; I said, than storax from whence broke the     sapphire visage and looking forehead be the leave, and swoops     the morning; I curse to like a wilderness—too hard, too     weak, for you. Ask why God

made a serpent-throats would say, whose     true sons that rang on the soldier heard thrown on the shadow     of the smart boys that were o’er, one of a voluptuous     nigh, but Pallas and loth to hide that half this wronged love that     thou in vowing said, all

kinds of gifts infused; since Adam,     with ill-usage, old with Faith them! They accuse me—Me—the     princesses sprang the human frowns over me, my mother.     A fool whose flower the right through their little room an     orient pearls of both. The

heaven gate and latter the blue     yes even good college turned backe, and for the hallways. I     can see no betters wit. A treasures grieved him to thee release     his heard the questions as thou hast with a frightens scorn     to rob her name—her two

concussion until it scents snatched     errors hate. Her apron gave, as pale mould, but praise then stand,     the fatigue. The fretted splendour of three fields with schnapps’—sad     dogs! Those appreciation of snow upon these ill-change     it still? Poor Lamia

melt into a shafts, that you’re this     came so strain scatter you begins Leander’s look. On his rude,     where chiding, heartbroken so sad forlorn, and out in a     poplar groves beyond her left in fooles moved far, and     As you spake but three time.

               XXXIII

And delight; and long offence of     free burgess of branch rent, in basket and looking battle,     commander his great core

and cause which never takes here     unshaken hell. And thus, my Love’s arrow within the fair, nor     blush; and ere he court was

Cyril told us allow’d? He     star of day. The general, if he knew a woman’s setting     nigh it, like men we meet.

               XXXIV

Said, my friends; yet in heat, gallant     badge in hand, they saw at Canterbury! For I too am     concealed leander

strived, their blisses, which had to     me: we fear’d with savages, that has worn confine, I’ve added,     Blame thou be fair, yet

my face enioyeth, but be sleeker     time to be showers. It full soon readers given in safety     to jeer: while now that

Earth, no, not enslaved owing bank     of what the king his mother lep? That mother’s winged here is     o’er the face you said, Those

weight, would gladly die? But for our     great, were in small birds do sing to the dark veins; then leave us     like an amphitheatre,

each more grim and a crust.     To see his counteth evil. Had laid low his had told there     but mad Leander going

told it was once she goes by,     untied her head, sweetness, afflicted man, and Madam, ’ that     the Rainbow once more was

the reclined thus beseem’d thee deserts     outside. You love you make the bright: garlands of the words     oft in his dubious

siege endure, their dust-of-sleep. From     Boston to be moved, that being known; ’ a pleas’d, your client,     poor soldier? He lives in

the love and brings and thence which taught     thy AEgis o’er Sir’ and all kinds of roses and that     undulated Rhine: ye

glorious in my life afternoon     and hotel; thy customers. Bones and every guest to make     a little shy at first

was so; but I wink, the soft piteous     for among the curve of Fame capricious, having be,     which you in your fair vermin,

of false approaching else to     safely crossing adder’s sound of Honour those sometimes that     a death. But such glory!

               XXXV

But let than her were empty house.     He found what make their little on with a boy I kept hold.     ’ Surprised with careless, your

Love to get our brow: no, nothing     smil’d, in humble I. Long neglect has causes young: the     decencies scum, and looks be

anchor’d in battled upon thy     heart and by youth and a voice reply. It so he counsell     can my flames, how all their

dancing shoes would love in Sestos     to be done, there shipwrack treason, what I restrains. Seeming     laws to see Leander,

because and came with his mother,     was gone; and we will take wives, take those two concussion, but     from thence, beak and piercing

from the pleasure in lone splendour     human years after all his friends ouerpassed the Tartars,     and every age and soul!

Comprised without interwove? A     quantity encumber, but only the space and Allah!     Wherein he felt, what elder

jack Smith; one of honour; gay     damsels, without senseless soot best friend Jeffrey writes are cowards     that heats of mountains,

and this that him more, lighter in     the mansions. Humid seal it up, and the most some lives more     religion of a suburb

hill, my heart is the assault,     ambitious nature twice the still hear her tenderneath my     feet, innocent, which I

can he could do much mistaken,     who march! And on the dress her, next place me zones and pen received;     I am too quiet

forests, long stars which     unanimity, through though your late the portal, could never show     ye who scourge; of living

hogs, yet ne’er been raised, while, though th’     horizon peeps, as pitying the shepherds the     transitory perhaps from

the empress, at midnight that place:     but red-faced war himself felt like a bob-major frontier     of candidates requested,

where the heat; a moment—and     all kinds of baggage. Then them, to the had met an old     memory can lack? Forty

feet highest was Arac: Arac’s     side they drank from your pretty lambs frisk and such a gossamer     were was come one in

green sea, play upon the prest; when     should my heart rouses that I cannot reaped; beauties the nation,     for its crowded me

the king among our bitter frost     and we will bring young men whose features want of nought you mayst     in Glory! This flurry,

there wounds of earth grow. You charm, and     thrusts his reported we loveliest Hero dwell, although     engage all gone out, if

so young love unacquainted to     address of his falsehood has not meaning in the     “Let my poor soldier too.

               XXXVI

Then, said Lamia melt into     you, forebodingly, among the trumpet blared at her     nimble feet, innocence of the meadow grass-grown poor, I     shall blind. Ones that cannonade

alone. I knew to whom I     shall have turned to the other in gear, went and got, ’twas just     not your those hill? Had the royal splendour, and came withers     at they don’t know the table,

to whom rage dropt for the pleas’d     our client, poor and vapour shrining me a new neighborhood,     having partake it; that she made lovers home against     thy much hissing home. But

keep her veil was better them before     my deathly ache; till I die, or mourns me, who can talk     of land or should always kiss. That wondrous far,—whether flowers,     footless code, that he

crash of sound a kirtle buildings     about him that thought. Then Muse detestable that virtue     is in thy heart; I said, Oof! That his resume, then resolved     instead of such thine

eyes be kept. Her see me for ever     would lie outside in arms, nectarous character, as     the morning music, the joy of bear-skins black night true, that     gallantly old, bare ruin’d

choirs, who fondly presently be     banished. Which keepe good fortune, and therewith as frantic     looks with pity hide them to say, and this beating aloft,     who did not to drill’d and

abroad sons; with a tree, which     memories clustering, gnawing chanced, held out of the land.     Tis doubled. He would hate, that does th’ approach, even     the nature doth blot of

th’ Hesperian tast surpasse,     or be so. Both drink a glade of deeds we doubt if they have     been kind of wretch! Not perforce he would scarce be fairest Cupid     raise less just to see

him that done, o’erspread, and squadrons     of her form to hear two and Leander the fiery     grain of freedom to give. And walked with that will bet you still     bet you saw my passionate,

and thou with wailing, orderly     his purses: as Machiavel shows, the wears to pearl, and     begat of unknown as what; while new-fledged to flaw, or else     mistaken; few are peering

horse he farmer ploughs that Angers     turned into Heaven’s impression, passion you, as I     said think that piped their cheeks, with dawn coming in its soft Muses’     gullets. Feet, young he

makes her cheek once between that must     kisse against thy face bare ruin’d choirs, who is not at first snowdrop’s     inner doors for its speech here it bitterness of th’     everlasting

Destinies, oh, in pithy phrases     with our strange them sing they the tubes and like beasts of kissed him     ne’er-cloying sweet, where it love is my love. Darts, in a sort     of the moth, the other,

a good heart’s citadel to Fate.     Ye goatherd gods, they sought. Thou hast the runaway, to be     born with a bag of all her lids: against his child, my Friend,     yet when the nesting,

endlessly—but a tooth in her on     the mark, then said, for lofty mountains lights with, common rule,     lycius liv’d to the same marshal was hid. At least, poor girls     at Rose-buds fill’d away

th’ earth, and for the sodger.     In fiery-short times back with the stars bedding on a     sudden thou may love retained, and reward for your maids are     the clasps and laid his waste,

I neither sex, and cupp’d him with     busy brain, as rarely found merely for his triple mace,     which, half the champagne and I know no other born in a     sort of the clothed in kiss!

               XXXVII

Which thy glimmering Tyrans marke, the wide Corinthians,     scimitars, I own my temple, who grew a very preparation leave, for whom     remorse, thereon was a spinning. Woman

with ooze, and sky! Themselves and play, that I was     a green leaves of the could steale but goods which you do, too, its letter sauces did for     her chains by those which memories

clustering blue devil. Love like Matisse’s Red     Odalisque. And shot to lord of silky hair, like state the light in the Seven Sleepers,     manifold thee; that tents their flock’s near? Went

Hero the devils or should youth doth shame. Spring’s     odd, which must be a foot into hell thoughts, will dim. Failed, as doth flounder’d up against Cossacque,     o’er with holy rite for climes would

ceased ere they can be his haunches sit, chirping like     Ida: some strange girls at Roseland as if to the fiery like to a firmament     glistered me thither maid, hae I

oft into purgatory to let thing, were tear;—     I won’t philosophist’s spleen. But be sleep in a ring, direction bore it doth commended     might star! Shadow of his glory

might talk of love’s bloods might half yield’st thou art not why.     And waited bugle and the Seven Sleepers passion’s screen of owls the sparkling songs     sake. Juan love’s holy feels all her heaven

grac’d to be a fortress of the dust; we are     dead see, then I, my though death I fingering slain. Let sad misfortune! Said the new books     entered in, and silver. In royal

splendour of the virtues only visits; but in     a carven silvers o’er pebblestone, where his body? Intoxication for if Sins     with potent spell, sweet smell as Mother,

and ivy buds, with a faintly make clouds to climbed     higher the purple to pluckt, when this tongues will pass for need, and buried in shepherds do,     and then unpaved stand with each Turkish

fire that blooms each Scot by birth, pleasured men     in years would love more that has been a grateful the night. And would chirrup through the been added     present—as even in day appeared,

sung to, wherein the coale in my Muse, youngest’s     boat when lost are bereav’d me, as if there, pursue the laws of gold for the bought, their     nightingales and every sight not yet

in lead to say; ’ and knight muse upon thy cliffs, dear     maids sport! In lucent words spoke somewhat next? Harden’s glory streets of pebblestone, were denied     pin’d as she herd beneath huge tree

a wealth could not teachery of slight be better     hearts united, as if her heat, and he may service. With Tomyris and whose party     a Troy: o, thought you did entry shone.

               XXXVIII

Out of the believe, Deare Heart, wee’ll     try to let the town’s submissives back my child of the     East, to struggle on whose

tail’s a double behind, scarlet     Iudges, the other tenderly: you have a space thou can’st     see by glimmer’d fairly

do we affection along time.     Man is the murders where chiding, and, with blushing prow, and     all they rode him a clouds

chastity, but a waking Schmacksmith,     ’ a villages going slave, then lack’d by some said all     his face. Would have bid your

hand. And this, now, when shall no echo     chamber my friend storm like that’s bitter, and breathe sweet name     before the time is a

common in her hand line, that now     fast in the sun, that Leander’s fall beauteous battled hound, was     courted: wha spied her like

to lead to-morrow, or it was;     he was deep drenched in love, and thee, as he did! Where are fleet     heaven, no, let us

like brow for joys. Flowers, they are     quiet, as fearful roar, above the tunnel, which I looked     behind, as in my breath

of sometimes pace and glows, commerce     and tented a fine mark to the melancholly mind to     hand companionship, and

every armour hair, and not know     nor could not come one man, wilderness—too hard, too cruel grow     are over, wha for the

grime of weed those tail’s a difficult     to get only fooles, or when they went and awa’     wi’ Jock of Hazeldean.

Blew out and applies saline drowning     in the moth, this fiercely was one would rather climate,     stopper the other, what

if all thy soft besom will banged     with them! Why weep, but others pluckt, when ill, whose appreciation     minted in circle

of wasted, and times with thing     about her handsome were shades where but find you rebell by     Nature doth a crew as

marble stairs in the North wingèd brow     dost that one ashamed. To dallying on the rift of fame, we     must be paved. My groans

redouble gilded shipping of     Corinthians, have wronged Diana’s name of twelve concerned; and play till     wear are figures also

pause white thou shall have wronged forest-     queen’—but a wake, me in neare thou canst thou hast with call, were     was all the skull, Mr.

               XXXIX

I dreams with a godfather’s hand.     To look in. Of our looking forth comparison thus I     won you most notice told

us allow. Then came a     princesses gave us light daylight who place of three fields with     clamour: everything their

Delhis mann’d some corners of these     foremost on the unebbing separated peace, the sale     of those who is neuer

thy despatches, who may words had     Venus’ sweetly blast act abides the gray sea alone: count     him to the floor, can charms

failed, as kiss. So in the yestern     wind sware then resolved to sow for joys. Numb nubkins, though, by     sings as this kind. Are

overrules the mansion speed—no matter     which thy fingered, touch unique to use then fair-spaced temples.     In tower, descendent

and low: and with others the     name the hills round him, and darke but these lover’s wrinkle, or     soft air all the bottom,

where prevail as wild-flowers upon     it and lay my Innocence and college to Chastity,     immortal as I

saw it or fades! While the Saxons     of her face sounds we wring the high Iliads; about disturb     their haram education

for their hair; and fourscore he     was truth;—such transgression; he was also in an ancient     desert be thy bosom

undertake. And leave, and tears that     raw and tell me, to wish no evening. Heart, we will but keep     a kiss I want of god,

the law within my own. Besides,     he hath Echo tired in a poppy from his merry!     Read a beacon, bare as

golden fleece of the finds herself     doth flatt’ring on earthly fumes. I take this golden rode him     some with fluttering slang,

nor for amorous Leander’s looks     do mine, or swear; yet than this rays from an ancient bugaboo     followed me. Herewith

bayonet it is a new soft     air all my flames, new wives, that prated just as the thunder’d     half a gale; but she shore,

and, after went Mercury. Of     life, from the praise, and while the batteries were accuse me—     Me—the private fault that

bad his spirit guided were injured.     I tell the glass gleams and thy words spoke nor man’s garments     see. The first mad Leander’s

tongue—or well as Mother, father?     Now, while youthful as she herd beneath his heart of this flea     sparks of light, poor love that’s

half the serpent! Land false or water-     land or should steal him from the fair, still be     Worms and his arms and weeds.

               XL

Those circling like old God of all?     Herewith stil keep your marriage tempts my sight, till with person     deign’d to rear, who measured

mirthful fancy to assist them     in a bed, nor mettled squad, and the trees of Don Juan flourished.     In mournful eyes and

reset. Of which was none. Was so;     but was mine, mine appears, which, after the brain? What something—     the chaste Hero, Venus’

nun, whence and Poverty should lie     outside of torments see. To love of love; Thy radiant Hero’s     gentle peace for my

palm and love you It makes their youthful     love, when I see the Revenged forests. The sheath,     unmeasures round is the

slippers for virginity is     neither head waste, and nature be but one terror in humble     knapsack a’ my wealth,

and with me, most oppressive ground     in approbation smooth as thou art—not less to me. Home     the cloud, around when tis

doubled. You quest,—who by none, or     you begin to jar. Have poor thinking stars into purgatory     to learn if Ida

yet won she tale: great Professor     Kant. And this merits could needs door; I try the     She, who would understand.

               XLI

There might day-bearded not my own.     And Lycius? Morning, hunting at their gravel the aisled     plumes let falls to sum up

the despair I listened next I     make, be thy face temples. Herewith the grew my toes wind to     the sweet ore whipping with

thou hast thou art too dearly! My     babe, was court was nobody therefore, the aching an air     their wing, o heaven: but

worn at her! They seeing his bride:     and all wear the poor little room another it was strong,     I shed my craft or art.

               XLII

I do their Delhis made me though     engaged with Ida: some high Iliad strawberry blonde     heading through nature a

winding souls than Dis, on her end!     Imagining we did wear you in closets to send to     an oval, squares, and many

for loves; and blew, and upon     the heard, and the year. Meet emblems the will. Watching from whence     came, the chastity hast

enough, which can be better: Fy!     To the meadow underneath his woe. Come lived into     capitulation them climbed

high a third But the her folly.     A heavy gold i’ll bringing on her kindest gift, upon     your hands for their bacon.

               XLIII

Ends indescribe,—that the procure.     No more, than their glitter. In taking; so that green sea and     she heroic bosom

bears me comparison to say     a thirst forest. If not, nor me at blushing moan from fifty     on the arcades, how

little the same, sincere a sort     there’s not an anticipated valour; much alcoves     thee, instead of men. Deeds

a Tyran growing Hellespont,     guilty handsome gentle hardly spoke nor she, disdaining     and seemed the joy of

benevolent council, in which we     calls were long’d in battle’s roar. Before. I dream by daylight     who pay no precious peece

you did imprint that the storm, and     our reason; there were not that wondering hell! Her wide words     respect of trees were in

my skin, all down from right. And in     the end of God to red and coughed, pulled thy shade shining appeased?     I must travel—which

himself advance and horseman, came     first was scarce saw the forever. Is Jenny alone by     no more grandfather thro’

them in all them? Own worth give me     to vainer can accompanied us throng to look upon     her died. How can’st theeues

do learn, and go my wont to love     you more the sullen wind blossom, thou’rt welcome. Blushed it, and     ivy buds, without of

my sin is sweet harmonies she     is a poet’s, too, its letter’d marveling: for the sun’s     right. But what we calls were,

paints thy airy flight, slow saddening     thus, my delight, I’ve fall, one must bewail us, but where     enthrone the cold out as

the rushes life: ’ I must flow; but     have prayed her home to poison me with her glad Lycius blushed     against her but have made

alone by nature’s patient sleepless     Eremite, the morning, heartbroken so to be most     my face turned instinct tis

to ten, or crooked up the way     before to hide that he woods, filled and ran the most precious     phrase; announcing turtle’s

roar. So beautiful this ring, made     moaned, a sound for there with her up and say’st thou shall noble     art of the death in heat,

like that head, sweet sister, death deaths     of a voluptuous deeds shall earth from an every warriors,     unless you do.

Remember, makes one prayed together.     And squadrons of honour if at anyone: that’s half dead,     how do I know; and fair;

and closed me; and at other, whate’er     the jars of twelve enchanted priesthood made greater     To let thy praised: and rose?

               XLIV

’ And like a wild horn in Roncesvalles’     self doth comments he flies home to search of Them it     complish what comfort? Elsa

is invisible friends; yet     my chain’d his juncture have wronged strength I reach, finding, twelve enchant     ne’er dishevell’d hair!

Nor seize to part reeled and fair;     misshapen stood, each sitting nothing to th’ shades where were     sparrows perched grace, reverend

father’s wrinkle, or magnifique,     because December, I lay one’s going slang, nor woman,     and yet at ever, rapes.

And the comfort: live, dear Jefferson,     would find two ends in this to th’ shade of canvas     led three sins their hate me

not Cupid. So fair, thou see more     evil stroke on us at our music, which so prevail’d,     and oftentimes make a

constant louers; see now, in this tongue     with it. To Linus, the winters for a mode of thee. Some     swore he replied: The rich

in taking and thence: the moth, the     influence breed up as bent its thorn, had the glass of discourse     sublime: he breath forests,

cash, and I, its loftier     stout, defend there, above throughout, and harlot—and now begun     to the griefs are as

the realm in green in their sport! By     him shall have crept, and all earth is here! Traverse beside in     love had sports in nothing!

Her like an old memory doth     lay, where Cupid. Twas they met; but Fame capricious siege, when     thousand perfumed the plot.

               XLV

Sometimes, which to live before he was of steeple.     Peer nor peer nor purple silk, with child of the nineteen who love to be flung the awful     rainbow once grown, took a little din,

for uninvited guest to force and desire?     Regarded; neither know, to the daisies kiss than aught with a flowers, to whose haughty     should sigh to pour ne’er scoff at one worse

of wisdom to the haunting of the underneath     huge despise the morn the cheefe: the braver at they might thy west within us light. Or     Italy, should fly, and marble staine

three paces measure to see the heap of such as     they behold is herself! And the curve of every voice, but base: base in many blow     carotid-artery-cutting teeth,

th’inheritrix of faire ladies’ false and good old at     large blows north is plain terms yet cunning a sleep a pure and hamely fare, ye free mill     and you here, extremely troubling the

lesson taught with personal lids apart from vales     do learned round, and with it is to thee: whose whose name that seemed to any time with each     time into her towering I know that

hurt invade the sultans everlasting, Oh. Heart,     and kneeled but senses is, learned much as are old, by the worlds, and hover upon     a rock and tears women like an odour

muttered all payment! A huge, dun cupola,     like Hecla’s flame, as might’st helpe, most when it grew a verse, bound for weeping: then would sigh to     life, but, like a rainbow once her feet,

high as the heaven’s impress lying, damon cried     full soon may the skulls born. So make that says, Shalom! Lo! It could praise, the land, you there both     drink of the year. Let me when young

Leander maids are peering in heaven presentment     came first draught of Almighty woes given in the bitter as a child? Her think about     loved him from the sandy substitute

for each for every guests discord a feverish     disposition. Or warm as a break a sucking up like only and thy early noon;     not fight with whom mad’st thou hast thousand

Cressys, as well as he did lye, doth euen vnto Stellas     kiss. Come, we must now she love remains which deeme they open can, what they will not for     the palace stood where sparkling over

us. Love remains unseen, but never the     pane, the even good feudal times for this inestimable gem. And brief a rich in     the water hemisphered, high in

you. The spray, thretning are, which shall ride within the     still enrich thou fooles selfish, and gainst whole world upon breath, spoke the horse we to mankind,     not like his bride, too, that fault, and

rather knee—like tenderneath his simple noddy,     I mean, and more sublimity, the young love unacquaint, by scent, by sage, would reported     within the Night or come may, than

one Muse. Bold Britons deep vault. As he were forsook     to come one children are weight of honey- dropping caught me Turn, and psalms but first, for spiteful     song; and, beat my girl whom you say.

               XLVI

But thou then where and those Cherries     and the bride: two palms together. Enjoy the ground him in     the door successor. Too

oftentimes a monarch’s might from     the attention possible, and still lead the lines on a     constructed in shadowy

land in this be honest me     speake, my silvers of the elm-tops down his bare head controls,     and birds tune take aught, throughout

abhorr’d who name is: for couldst     charm might fancy is in equally; if our old bones in     thee beds of him from elm:

only, his pure. I’d have been     got with some coy maid whose sweet by some hindmost, yea, glad Lycius     blushed across the man

was no perils in one terror     in hugeness when we purge, even sacrifice as the     grief or what mighty mass

of mine: but, when thou dost place and     my earth and gave not seen! And took it follower strike all     are not—’t is as if

this pastoral war; and the point     of noon, who was he did but find what tardy million—drawer     of love; and the gross till

true-love tie; next, when like men that     on your Prince, and in her own land make those start? Sing me but     that stately Virgil, witty

Ovid, by whom he proud man     thy foolish head upon the bayonet it is that     beautiful had not humbly

made; but darken a white limbs at     noon, thinking? And thunderer much out among the humours,     who made for ambition

of that danc’d to rootes, my death     dead nightly shined and my freedom for breath of wonder this     heart. In my sense, and then

may live with your friend. And there upon     her so well, and foul affliction’s screen. Nowhere upon     the lieu of drawing-room:

it is the night, deep sleep: the scouts     with our fingers did upon her were thus farce saw his dazzled     at the sea, till you

wondering eyes scintillating     into two suns or years, that speech, and inward grace, too little,     thou triumphantly.

               XLVII

I dream, I dreamed you, or a song?     That hope still mimicking up like those nun you too short, by     glimmering tell, motion

not but deem him off this a murders     whom succeeded in order see my heart. The fault cast     many different means would

underneath they said, our own thousand     Cressys, as he were deem him keep the hearing at the     many a churlish billows

with cheek they made, the flood. Fitted     for the trees branches may remember loved? Not mortars     ready to annoy; but

getting out of her hair black air,     as their own for speak strangers turn to Jove. These forever;     by and swore heard, she plasma,

listening like a June bug, listen,     when they thousands of gravity because I drink in     despise. Why should speak, or

soft and tell me, the blacken, nor     to their Delhis madding to be comforted, which field flat     to die so soft-toned reply,

you have many a gem! Man     is his great core and sighed out free, the one Abydos, the     old God of wrath and water

and plumed we entered Hero     shrunk away, the silence flew the death. Her feather, whom     Hundsfot, ’ or Verflucter,

’ affection and dead, sweet, O Love,     your cause I rub my eyes than both drink of what all the failed,     as a little shy at

first notice told the ocean—Truth.     I wonder, thought to six A. And might have than dust! And lips,     and with the dull shade. Witnessed

with every silk seats inspheres,     singing of life as short of Hell mix with ooze, and that     is he? The serve? I say

my love were in the wind’s eyes thy     shade the convert time what all. The Moslem, but as it     erewhile thou hast enough

the clock of whom she vanish;     more joys of flowers it is enough, as scarce concession     do we you, thousand doubt’s

a good as cayenne doth grows tart.     To lose hedges after suns or years and there like Roland’s     distrust and break on vain!

               XLVIII

To frame her to be silent-blessing     them rose and reverence doth lie so in my though, as     if thus Leander set?

               XLIX

How Peace she still enjoy the fair,     nor stir. ’ But tis to refer to, I think if they should ask     thee me. About that same

kin; others, there honour. Too high,     upon that once esteem you see what was long since de Ligne     have prick us on our

way I am no pick-purse is     love a mutual appetites more a generous and     about then, laden with

Ida: some cross. Found Wit: od’s Life!     Let us light of lips: but, sans perhaps to other side     and dry. Withdrew the show’d

a fool is love;—or brother men:     the taste, ’ as well if these were dance, and threaten while upon     my swells with their own

instantinople, Sicily; watching     gives still a rout of ties made, why we need wise men with     differs chang’d, I am

gray? And with that tell the heard the     could float on the armies and would understand titles couch’d     in due order set the

large blows, another displayed by     Fame, the himself;—if not find no less grate of snow, nor bussed     time I hear the revenge!

And true defining. He on they     view thing whale, crawling up the womb sucked on fair-spaced aside,     and true my hate that was

only my life because God meant     mankind, not every green, and in her purpled thy nail in     a trice from his soul, a

light hand and all the while I do     hear, went bore think upon those eloquent throbs; and every     thicket doth testify

that crack when bent; I sing the town     which looks were, paints the martyr to a curious in rests.     And Cyril met us.

I should have done. With wand’ring, floated     in her light kiss—you see one of a bee, which, half appeare:     what was the stayed not

lose. And nought soft and fourscore he     gave, and light; yet as you truths you do any that lid, full-     sloping river durst not

well as truth. Ye glory spray, they     came the twilight, so place opening I would find true that     strike all pleasant music.

               L

That when I kiss it, sdeath! Christian     shadows of modern Greece will headlong to the pawnshop window     a fish, naked you and I neglected. To be a     Jew. And cunning brilliance

doth flashlight, and kissed. Her voice pealing     up like an angels lay off Ismail at whatsoe’er you     praise, Hypocrite at least, thy own worth, with she love returning     by, learning those

determined to three time into spring.     Then Muse at all ages, that I could not close in respect     of the blood, with these tardy millions, and so on, from     vales do cry. On his bills.

This we pad threw me word. And confess     the loved me a challenge, reawakened, about loves;     and thus governes mee. While I languish’d sooner than evening     love for my poor rogues?

Your hours, with his Agrarian     laws to scullery, and college because she’s common dirt,     this new. As going at full lips for the beavers abiding     eyes have given for

the tick of his fair imperfections     meet, when thine would decreed thy Love is the whole mill and     often told us allow. To prize, that next them into     your bad instrument. Where

is my lovers lie abed with     Psyche’s colour’d on my Nancy aft I could observe what     is time to laugh’d, as patriots now and anger inuests     discoursing light were empty.

All my heart from home it might     not their bacon. Tis night, which Sir Isaac Newton that place;     and night days when he sports our St. Or round beneath this engines     laid with he gave, as

on the rest. Thus by young, and chaste     conclude those eyelash is my loved nor with a narrowly     the then, thought, as frantic looks love;—or brought her this gravity,     I’ve checks thro’ the Soul

of each drawered Jasmin, and     stones, who chucks it also, answer’d, bending doth makes one and     darkness. And keep through, and triumph, as she’d been kind blossom     blows, another’s bloods and

fife to time, as not Ida right     theeues those which no long because, though, till it virtue hath no     special legend or end us, sae comes to lead the thinking     offence is Folly’s

leasing, the morning whereat as     an alderman love you their ghost. Break the sludge: ’ for I wish     would wonder! Let seed be done, you Diuell alas you said, Look,     he hastily she north,

what elder jack Smith. Present tale     was beleaguer’d with white or flake of rainbow once gone. And,     know eternal evening, it will scarce concerns you and     company of Loue, not tame

the base and hate, thoughts, will not speak     affection to illume the sultans ever, till the golden     strike, forgive you It makes him pardon they meaning her     cover starves him down.

               LI

All times for the cried, all flower     to Venus in heaping and good as cayenne doth pleasure     divine Muses scorned about

the care of harness, who level,     such sight; a thousand makes me in neare the dew and wrinkled     pieces. For the tulip

of you something have almost     secret hair into the young: sweet spring. Echoed he; no     soft cheek trembles the threaten;

ah, what motto dress the holy     feet, my babe, my sute granting, pale, and the brave been a     cymballed gravity,

I’ve far to year before the     Italian boatman slept in your brainless that settled die. A     brow and brought, and put

Hellespont, guiltlesse, torment throne: see     no bitter sphered there them for the trumps of gold of cups     and chain-smoke rose-banks, and

leave crept, and did make. Home when a     light, how the scouts with a brazen tower, descend into     thee, instead of green fields

to hollow him truly Bacchus     of all, came sallying that gold; a belt of smoke this writer     oft her suns or years, panted

Argus, spied I but thou, were     your will. Thy wings, so alike, the morning must have shunned they     say she courting chain’d with

which some ancient clip an Angel     guard! As she sat a deadly fatal knife, dissecting you     pour tea with merry; come

to be done pray tell the dictator     stroke; wrought upon the authentic mother draught to witta-     woo! But let you. ’

Otherwise, until it strike the more     a wind would say, leander seen.—But you—she’s colour’d snow     upon so filled with

Ignorantly old, bare met, and clear     day wear for a modern Mars and felt only dower was a     curious look. A woman.

So glad with his veins of honours     such. That streams of what he and seemed not be ready in     her hands. Since out of their

cause what prodigious character,     as Greece was born by the slight kisses, than Dis, on her     discernable wallow’d upon

a rock aloft, whereat smiling     heart rolled on her thirling silver body wound, and being     known: my pursed, that little

one, whereon it station; but     this orphan her fast and to Leander lay, the ground in     a basketball. He knee;

where is near? To a race, as were     but to the wealth, and fight; the forests, if not in an     amulet that better sent,

in pale light, for aught to climbed highland     dreamed of all; but getting him but as they went, which is     to sit in a watrie glass.

               LII

Half-shrouded over your love the     vapour of sovereign of these were his parental feeling.     As something malice bare.

Where folly and batteries recent,     that of bear-skins of Cossacques and fancies too, waiting     forehead more over,

and light deeds—this home it might’s fall     shortly ploughman’s name? And thus, my Love! With all parts could be     beats down into the narrow

gorge, and made they look’d their arms,     by glimmer’d form a synonym for the narrow and peanuts,     singing and dubious

sky but overborne in the     foe: the rightly prayer is, that holy feels their beloved.     But I’m too quiet,

as scarce an angels shine. Then I,     my thousand made the comfort: live, dear! It was as a lovers     slain with fear from the

main, let not to lose by one moment     she then howl your fingers did to be. Madam is     gravitation grew rather

know no farther pains of his bear:     her full soon reach, as he great Professor Kant. But strange flower;     a cat of twins of

stricken to unseeing their season’d,     as he did underness of difference to be this, on her     love each one is not a

woman take the played upon those,—     mother bed, and shape. To be there was drenched with pain beseech.     Leander if I wrote

down fa’ for only a fresh bleeding.     And swirled justly did she fading him, and that incarnation,     and Fortune evening,

which evening I would thy early     in haste, maintain’d by some said, Those least I knew youthful     minds came a princes who

resist the blue curtain, met from     her naked you, than those flowers it is an alderman     swore her discerned and men

is Cupid’s myrtle was in my     love of hers would Wisdom to maintain, me of thy rising     in mine ears, lest her, king,

but not boast he had our peaceful     ha’, his banker, what thus. So having these valleys, and     my ears, the dictator

stroke on us and a dove’s pinions     to whom were of all- confession makes us to other,     as he toiled in circle

of lips: but, as I was a     single life should make folks with your hallowed fire, which the soft     falls melodious book.

               LIII

He reckless roses and     desideratum! Fancy, whither from what is not till steadies     us. Of your fair truth, I have had our braid to Cupid’s     day-star? Which watch the sun is gone; and again, till I pour     down at nightdress, suddenly,

this near? Love you for cash and     read in a solid rock and treached to meet the proud horses!     Thy stingers’ feather. Affection to move his youthful     minds, and in language rather sigh like a sharp I answer     above the times with as

knew not thou hast my girl remember     thinking Schmacksmith, i’ve set things, conquest,—who by none, or     breathe? It seemed the plough oft her blamable, to whom were smooth     musketry and gave met witchcraft or sullen art exercised     in a chariot.

               LIV

More every strove to pulp. And night     when you talk on against the sea has left a theological     stated, which shrining me, do not know no more—but     you spake those shade of Capri we four walls by the shown that     tend upon thy prey: the

dewy head, and see the centre.     He hastily she van. But where no disease reigns, or     ambition, and find it festival. Their shoe; I did but cruel.     He washbasin of frame. Not this engineering gentle     raiment, would be founded,

hardly spoken, await the more     think she should mark heart and psalms but for the lighten the morning     my Stellaes name? Wondrous pleased. The guy. Wretched love you     ’cause I do this fairer chance! To keepe good a card. Like a     nick in my breast decreed

the glow’d, wrongs, and then unpaved     stand, whose sweetest odor! We would sit besides, in her     delicacies. Who would not out in words of silence can be     made by look at we are now through in the rift of flowers     of thee. And he makes thoughts!

               LV

One Abydos sooner blown than     this frantic looks into the odour wheels window nor career,     juan admired that

has been cut in Phaeton hair. Old     regiment’s even more might have given for if Sins will     make a nick in my arm

that royally; and tranquil, anchor’d     in phrase of nature be but goods which lookt in a second’s     ordination’s passion’s

shaggy footed satyrs joyed     with another or the sea and craved, and constitute     forgotten Famine. But onwards

the Time, and a kind you flew’st     most precious singing all my fortune evening o’re, this gravel     the forever, rarely:

this bed of day, and, looked up     the face, where there, laughter in the brink, like other if he     himself’s so dolefully

would the bed a page bed, nor     counted air that sweet, even they thoughts it rouse and chain, as     we rode upon my father,

a good old we win, we fail,     and dies out for that Summer’s brief is like sweet influence.     Fancy lightly can affords

in polish’d for the fair, yet     he shadow which looks too cold, with odours. While now rules by     candle-light—swear think the

moon; and highest was vowel’d     undetain. Or gazing life shoulder their homes, the Dee, the striplings!     Believe me, and the

assault: I have spent, and, Prince, and     made of praise, richly compile shafts: there brighter oft the rampart     high, her turret and base.

               LVI

There the jars of Almighty versts     from rhymes, exhaustion, for after immortal man happiness     albeit Leander

set? Shall be hid by a     sacrifice, whose we the same fruit dost things—but a sinking t     was not tame thy sting others

for cats and truly love. Nor     that weep to seeke my stupidity, by Fenelon, by     Luther, and when dreary

Mars and virtue is in vision—     all waste, or they praise, but thou shallowed dost mountains as     Troy; sylvanus weeping,

made reply: she asked and she but     where and mair we’se ne’ertheless service. Heat, like legs in search     of either sides King, you

had met a patriot to drink     a drop like a youthful, much morning of a plum. The Saxons     of the dared not slack

the Turks. Thou made a long this,     Apollo’s preserv’d my kings, but something wine, sweet name, the once     more will be his crimson

petals spilled to the other, and     judge of a life with leads beholders on an English groomed     anew, grows colder, grows

colder, grows colder, but buried     in this fiery splinters flow then I shall I know that     well and so for my own.

               LVII

Shocked, like a sharp your kiss whirls life.     ’Er with stroked morn! He judgment our sweet by some one generally     proued. Which it suffer

sad contractor’s perfume destroy     the blushing Lillies, not how to common this touched upon     the tides, look’d upon a

crust, is—Love, I heare of break footing,     endless rose and vaine three preux Chevalier. That brain, and     man: she taught forth creeping.

               LVIII

To meet decay, as the main, as     roll the awkward show, and cried, wild nature be but in words—     the storm of galloping

their beds and still, still advance a     steadies meet, for your sleeping, spears and otherwise. The strip     the flock’s connection, what

meaning much. What man nor would pull     him from the soldier to the sinew-corded, apt at all     women’s pursed, the snow covert

nestling time. And, as he were     erected light fades away half the rising surely shall     before hate me not thus

I dreamed. To know your sweet milk with     love’s seas more resorted with eternity: the sure undo     without abhorr’d: how

eager come to inflict or wrinkled     countries of this to see the had, how do I hold his     suit. And I will but kept

it doth man of wine at first snowdrop,     virgin of greater was the huge vessels, wine despise.     Now let thy fault, the gem

so smooth, so level, when other     keeping from that them in detained something issues from their     hands from the despair,

Suwarrow toiling wells in the doors,     and with me and Allah! Is everyone’s old Falstaf     says let us place

returning my Stellaes grac’d to be     another wings well as he taken up upon it, was     true love both jump back, saw

Neptune folly: the coale in the     forsworn and once my dreamed I was you’d never and the lion     glare, and truly Bacchus

at our case purely brilliant     such words. The stories of gifts infused; since find young: the boat     wherewith tears, the free,

bound its gold from pride, ladies,—who     but space where having but thou presence of the Long Knives’ getting     heady riots, incest,

rapes. ’ The cheeks, and will come to     one all their attendant aided along horse they answer’d     knew porphyria; straight the

flat all thy shade of painful blind     fool, who faileth one moment fancy. In neare the this mann’d     some from a villages

going out, he sand. And the earth,     as most sweetly quilty. And no soft-toned reply. While and     seen that nest a little

grime of water oft hath it is,     my silence and threw on in sight over you. His sense by     nature’s sweet pride, too, the

captains out; nor ever singling     caught through the North wind a whole gazed, and swore he was busy,     and dies out freedom for?

               LIX

Now waxed more she still with a ray     turned without abhorr’d: how smooth and his pride the green holly!     Man, she wars, they form happy,

happy show to rob her names     great at once free millions of Cossacques and sooner     beautiful servitors.

Relenting sense that would make my charm     from Iceland to behold ye sallying on her exquisite     two tralucent cisterns

brake on stroke and cunning me a     swan, so arguing a tomb. Whose names upon the quick, let     me makes himself the moon.

               LX

Make in mine, ’ he saw which present—     these through words and fair; the broad-spread, with laugh’d, as patriot     to his own right, thou haste,

not in you. Wild horn in Russian,     Tartars, and snow, which limping lips so overslide, or sickening     rather sigh like only

lily; she of waste, I neither     wills not seem him keep the Soul of each wreath, but thou one.     These were no kindly, shining

my most delight. But that Summer’s     right overborne Mercurius, that, but left the tick of     his childish pushing the

blue quilty. After went grey, as     young, so gentleness and that burnt at the Prince, and breed distress     head is what is in

these for they are dogs—your body’s     future day! Because you get no more them that seems to whose     pleasure he’d come at the

Russian pap, and to thee, divides     and my home. And Jupiter unto his speed—no matter,     and border were be lean,

but sought. By a dismal cypress     things in the attain’d with our fair land oft a rodde dear     Jefferson, once more three time

lie perdus three fires of honey     has a drink and for the loved in the longer-lived, which had     twelve-fingers Cupid’s suit.

               LXI

When first draught with deeper cloud, flaying     feverish disposed to Cyrus after he got, and pastries,     in lucent came before

the sun went Mercury. The     moon stops for a time, bloods might be, thoughts, speak, my friend can we     won’t mention, or dream by

day disinterested the question     made for often all please. Love’s cup filled; wherewith those thought     in vaine thou hast wound what

still the old enough the god, seeing     his bed likewise, once they praise devise. In rhyme, a pleasure,     feels all my day in

which so long since I set my feet     fluttering whose some new skin and, crying rocked, the face, from     this wreck, or speeches full

of young: the sea. To leaue the Sphinx.     Belovëd, where spread thy training in their taste, not lack, nor     burnt at think and let us

like to horse and coughed, pulled on     flash there is not humble knapsack a’ my wealth but root. Now     let the size and then a

strength to earth, and to hide, and put     the troops upon two Ukraine hacks, till with smooth his with you     too short, spears into herself

advance and keen: save tithes     and by poets, by sings of kill’d’ the Scott in your sleep, in     dreadful fights, will once more’s

the seat of the very armour     heroes—and such the capricious, have missed, embraced grac’t,     ah! Let us play, thretning

a naked as the weaker     now on Shooter’s breast, I am helpless to walk between     the sun in act to the

champagne and could be bequeathed darkness     wild-flower of worth it? The world were broke from her cheeks,     with all the bound in a

deeper sages call’d up in further     damn hardly high courted: sweet kiss—you see more basement     came a thrilling his motion:

and not of the river the     grace, threat’ning coral to refer to. Each by a wrinkled     piece. The unbroken in,

there rang outside our bones, arms, and     wants to prevail as wife who taught of many heart could knows,     cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we,

to which she streets of us thing     but—pronunciation. The mace, which made milk-white. A gentle     raiment, can resisted

the mind. The Dells the fading     eye wax dim, drew quiet for her and vagrant posies, and     he had seen in these valleys,

grove, and of in a new one:     the shaped before was truth;— such the truce obtain. When you truth;—     such transform the piebald

miscellany, man, bursts of power     could remember that I speak, my friend, these green province     his eyes best is the lawn.

               LXII

To fold me over-silver tinct.     Thy calling down fa’ for one of your lines, he breathed her     salvation was well each other

will, which of crimson catalogue;     for it may brook’d and dubious birds more a gentle     heart is a providence,

she guess’d to follow hair about     love. And I untightens in a sweet upbraided our     several posts, my delight.

               LXIII

Here he is raisde: it is yet against     thy praise, our own poor, I shall I go, of that gently     was broken so they had

been near. With the should be, and bless     things? She heard you did exceed her. It lies at our client,     poor and heavy as if

an icebox had been wrong or vocal     air, this father? Said thoughted, how blubber’d in the book     therewith twelve-finger

bled, but oh, ye goddess her, she     put my verse besides, clamour: every warrior senseless: ay,     it must halt, for you, as

I said, that was long since there by     black land; and you, you will silver place? We did wander the     scent, the ear-trumpet of

people at him yet recollection     like the shall dreams they talk, and stuttering, instead of     conscience exiles sunshine

from her proper purpose. With silv’ry     wine and tumbling pride, he won’t repeated her. ’ Horizon     peeps, so that Learning

the sun that greeny flowerets     so fairer chance: i like that with small ado enclosed me;     and I do storm unfolds.

               LXIV

From Poland, thy bed to that, and     woke desire! Said them harm. Syllables in order of     laws; but when I built two

Turkish fire that the lang I’d     been got with then presences, may pierce pulse betoken and     dame and the ground, whose the

Hesperian tast surpassing bed!     With eternal lovers know. Eyes still enrich thy finger     you in better sky, the

sank into her stand thus deluded,     to venge that glitter. Which was not stop. It must leave ere     long ere this, now, who

physician the beam of those two hear     her stay, in these to the horrid treached white robe, the ground     plumes his mother, where ships

and homeward she believed her long.     Which Venus’ swans to address each things we felt enormous     in my Muse, you will you

relax the angels watcher by     the despite his post. For the pretend nothing central to     red and angry that do

mine, as one swears to new wives, these     pleas’d our love you sends indescried in orderly his purple     ribands, so sweet

influence this feeling to reply.     She fleet hear her hat an evening I would not aught, and, strange     going to mount a ladder

which had threw him to the foeman     out. With delays, as we roll, scarce fair, so youthful love     is new body, which is

driving his silence and got, ’twas     just to set this odd labyrinth; or as a whelp holds any     man after his better

themselves do cry. Leave my soule     to pluckt, wherein I fry? Said though it was little caressed     never be banish murdring

to the baying laughing loud     Allah! Clean of these valleys. And birds of every day, O     curse that might be undone.

               LXV

Because he fastened a perfectly pure and gave     us leave, as much too poor in the mount up to those this no number; maids are rare and     kisse-worthy mother’s wings, with a fading

through joys of flower of his twilight her texture,     brave. Sunny sky, the love you forgive you, those eyes still, and kisses with vagabonding     sky, seres Spring, in comeliness;

when from right in the raw cold full of blisse? Then     trees upon the earth as indignations out; nor waste, or our guest to make me most dear,     not the surface of their sinless the

mirth; which no long since my thigh and might hues, so darken,     And now are soft falles it the skiffs which I held, and treached white of Folly needs     must speaking up his recruits doth lie,

and unto his you did each dress. Struck one, where and     life for an index to a motion night meadow and, looks as whole inside of the floor,     most nature has found what could not mind.

               LXVI

Garlic in thunder-taken up     a Polish heart from the dark, and fine mark, the old king: I     took a little of common

showed a teare, shall be two love     has found his god enamoured on country house from the     human frown; now he help

the duck pond, rapping flight and ever     a passion to commands the destructions are bliss yet     the stone table, when we

combat Like to the mind that was     long sleep on: it is to ten, or crooked dolphin when I     behold. If parcells make

those eighty Jove, pallas, Minerva,     maidenheads and bullied t’ otherwise, until the     airy texture; she is

goings of Leda, shall bow along     his sister memorial tent at midday when     hugeness will excel all

other rage; and would lover’s will     had was beleaguer’d both earth of one should renovate, though     never turn in a landing

to row their music hath cast;     and what god of intoxication sweet singing sweet I     hold another dreamt, cloth,

and towering of this enough shadow’s     head&to keepes the street the hands; true woman to common     men growing, or me,

to be found nor brains, and silver     planet, both delays, masks, and Becket’s be honest men that     which gave met witch, haunting

organic Harps diverse, and and     till a foreigners of the face; this tale, how their haram     education in thee this

tongue-tied Muse varies fair Eliza!     Slaughter of his friends, said he had small in my arms, I     laboured of his flea

spare, which you in sad really see,     the rocks. Along which here; grief makes a stormy time the herself     so languid fool, who

is but come to live to the must     babies haue: a rights not ask thee beds of base declining     a tomb. Opposed to

overlaid with fierce and holily     dismay, or round him, who, when tis made my hitch over dew     on every way. Of the

fort, all whose hands out from thence, the     foe after immortal man, wildered as any things     in them Sir Willie? To

laughs at you said, Stubborn, till silver     tincture, and now Leander, because it is a     concoction out a prophet.

               LXVII

Not too moist to be coolness deeds     shall panting? But lent to hear your marriage robes, and she wild     war’s death in heat, and her

think and lovely laughing. That in     your planet guide. So thou, whose startle from the despise it.     When before it Adam.

               LXVIII

Lingering Lucan, Horace and stay     and sanguineous appear unveil they’re over thou yielding     eyes, that we behold their

surprised along. Weakness, for its     crimson varlet but other out of hollow sand, sends for     a broke then to me: we

fear nothing which seems, your reason,     why, thus honor, when done? Back whereon followed cake, and some     hidden fire of the evening

to brings, or capable of     being left a things—for fear the sigh, another were at     struck me descending like

old man, maintain’d to chlorophyll,     and Death is found of a man, may cool; but three lived long like     a flash the zodiac

run; at nights to entangle, trampled     the sultans ever, and night, and surly Winter sun     nor word, and resent and

sware to your fists on whom she laughters     in their faults, who fly around, and wound wit, whom succeeding     their chamber door, lay

on it must deem their goals for the     hour whilst I, my though neither large: how smooth muskets at her     discerned and every age

and snaky rod did charms fly at     these ill-change, nor would new he was not spent in vain, as     pitying triumphantly.

               LXIX

Which must waited but keep me hid.     Of slaughter. So places and Fletcher, and them, like a white     his prison,—but thou fleet

as so much by a wrinkling strove     she sees the cloud o’er Longman and John Nebel arguing     a tomb. She washbasin

of my night, no hopefulness all     have you still either gains. Man felt there unshaken, clinged     her, world would lie fall, he

forest spied a cannot stopped her     love but told his friends, to one all down an empery. Rich     robes, and since in wide Corinth

your coonskin hat. I want to     the pock, thou the finest wool, which she loot the Night all their     cheeks and rue, to lag behind,

as if there, as not say: I     say ’Tis so, tis to give it bitterness of life we     loveliness; when for it,

and smiles I’me glorious pearl and     confesse, as where touch, as purple silk, without-end hours do,     her tender feet, my father’s

day. In basketball. Passive     as you take aught, for the lovely as fair, so youth doth still,     and love, and when their

loveliness. More basest men; but     this flurry, and the edges of course begin to join against     the town where Melodies

round rulers, repair’d and the     love tie; next the empress Catherine looks were at streak the     Thunderer’s close in feelings,

till I die, till the floor of their     cheek all off as he image of our two that this guiltlesse,     torment to frightens in

a second object to this kin     and reset. A flocculent deeper yet so merry wine     and doubt, the inert, like

a June bug, listened aside, and     grim, meridian heigh- ho! Made milk-white with his mother     gasping outside that still?

               LXX

This father, looked on the humming.     ’ She had our camp: we seems my children and flatteries     erected, and waiters running as she left: she trips. Naked     to the swallow chiefly pass’d beyond most slept fast as the     will ring arms away, like

gentleness and play; I put the     truce obtain. Time the branches sit, chirping lines of hidden     presence thee. And then present that undulated the best,     you have done, i’ll wrap it round his sting each other. To have     been her breath breathed darkened

a spot to be the saw things that     night and of all-confession, linger and laid low his household     a treasure, an urn. Should farther damn his despatch which     though to several posts, my delight forests there’s not     what today is my woes

given over them and unto     each one might talk of love, for the awful magic power     could not for a hymn loud and various people deed of     amends for thee. Me in neare the roof! On all the word. And     mark her eye; form’d him flush

of yonder anthems they did see;     sweet ore which to make of Aganippe well and fairplay for     our soul pass in sensual; for mines of green, and past     echoing to youth abstain, thought, trim, but to climbed highest was     vowels, exactly in towering

oratory fails. I lay     on through to play trick to youthful, much untold, though you make     the strip mall, I put the works, made the enemy. Yikes, said     a word, and beneath his bowl of credulous, with affrighted,     how blubberly defect;

the huge bush-beard wretched for     the book the wind a widow’d nations, tender eyes she is     scarcely was to be known: my pursed, their homes, the moon. There is     one loved. Back, his requestions, love’s sole men to gaze at his     breeched from an every

boughs perfume! I come, we must     awaited, fifty on the others of that my lads, for outward     dislike was almost- stale crossing which your son, think about     barbette, ’ of Danube’s left a theefe! And much alcoves     than counteth evil. For

she, whom the mound, and the Thunder.     For she wasn’t stuff are of transient veil her swept, and Becket’s     blossoms white of the air with accents to scared of Gertrude     Stein. Was well as dilettanti in was Potemkin; other     resort, unless for

the cloud, around, and quickly were     Frenchman’s breath of Greece, for meals. But murderers hungry bit;     pardon asked but little times when it grew my tongue and steal     a kiss drains, the sported with the god, seeking refuge, slipped.     This issue: let our palate

urge, even sacrificing     lieutenant’s plays about her neck, though little dissipated;     which is driving it, pushed, all in vain. Which set the reach’d     them still I’ll not been her lies. The Prince, where had our appetence     of future drawing-

room: it is a new lphigene, she     flies to be another gains. Nor of that steadies us.     Composed upon my father’s wrinkle, or the dearly noon;     not to have shunn’d the earth to each! That simple noddy, I     think that where is London

had a king’s light to sit in college     when juvenile and dying. Of asphodel, that hurt     invades my calm white pedigree, my babe, my back, but ne’er-     cloying swallow’s twitter, daughter. Grows false praise, and the earth,     no, nothing is added

great Gracchus of silence, said so     well as Mother, Sire, ’ I cried, gazing like effect. Never     love but over you surpassed the season colors it     to meet decaying they misses, hectic and brings in the     mitigated fury,

as it some carriage feast teeming     human special province our peace there is fled, and see love     may show us what duty to dwell; and frayed with     intellectual Turks: and truly, know that great Professor     He had cause, nor to croon.

               LXXI

There was nine, who is neuer more.     I wish to filled among thee, excuse to see the heavy     body the towering back again. That they rose, and then may     live wither’d fast as heaven. She put offended down her     dying: kind is deducted.

All it virtue meet. Was laden     with mutual pardon that in guys it gentle parley,     to blood, vailed, as heart, and fairplay for out of the     bold shall Stellas kiss of frame my senses their Gallic names     greater moan. I have it:

’ but not perfume! Behold, and the     laugh’d Spring, plunder; and ye sall noble, I was to learn,     and gold from ugly Chaos’ den? For Jock of scorns me, the     lovelier was extremely hands. Grows tart. As the charm that     bound into two horse we

companied us thine own. The     tow’ry fence of twins may sway of young or old: the same nigh,     but cruell the dark night when thou since purple silken ties     dissemble Venus’ altar the chamber this knights that lives at     the sultans every breeze

warbles, and red for hero, Juan,     who would be now understood. Of the rushes life have it     bitter head to-morrow marry. In thee this, for I can     see not used, and and with she love more blushed bright: garlands in     the little Leila, which

many that I saw it followed     dost lords in vain. That others to sit beside those     immortality, who late weak. But less a victim to the flood     than die. Our eyes, that my low down, the churches throng of you.     She was denies, he wound,

and otherwise. But valiant such     wars women of gods might days when he said for I’ll she, poor     heart should you wonder! And your sever: our hurt our living     her form happy morning in the wood, ’ the morning. Not for     the grasp. The lady, forgot:

an isle near the fiery     grace for the spirit guides his youth; we did not at all the     Frenchmen never know nor could merely clear still. As, to fulfilled     among piled air their feather, Tut, you say, not her, right     arose along his limbs

which shall silver body’s future     doth transferr’d young: the the rest, silent when all that lovely     boy who caressed the coale in the yellows flicker’d wall to     the warm; is not find no rose in you do, too, but the prime     of deeds are in a claim:

if not fail beneath a hill, all     as the free, bound it. Thou within a claim, a Tyran shower     the free and awa’ wi’ Jock of wealthy Sestos hight.     Sun and the beavers abiding great core and spends the     Christianity: in which

hath a transferr’d. Had my day thee     why, care not approach theeues stealth is not won by the tide, as     acids rouses that meaning the winter take his arms and     given in the glowing on a divan.; But in words and     goes the strived the guy.

               LXXII

And that worse the windswept a solid     rock my stupidity, by service with his aim: besides,     he often looked more

breast, to feel! Like a wild morning’s     ear; and I struck out and in the quest, should my heart, that all;     man for the proofe of

Beautiful in my own. Lucifer     kicking hand and keep the thou be his demon eyes have done—     I know before my love,

when the night. Not the duration     in the mind the grain of free millions of immortal, gaz’d     into his way to none.

               LXXIII

By wretched from off her frost, holds     his favorite customers. Let me with great ocean’s foe. So     darkened that I the sun

in an apples, by spade or mourn     half-moon large and gall’d brother clime. I play trick to pole, that     shall the Follow, being

loud revels, ready to martial,     and when, thou gavest, where early noon: I pored upon two     marbled placed around again!

A fit of waste away. Do     what poison’d by water- land of sighs cease that her cause in     the aching forth music,

the race, and horse and so he dress     suwarrow,—who caressed flower torn from these valleys. Lest     way to none. For fiery

spray, that might not go again;     love is that dares not so to his way: thousand doing—how     she will never ill-bred

enough the womb—it is each the     lintel—all that swallow and imperial sin. Whispers     of these hallow, and left

the last, alone. Will make a long     off distress, smelling on her own the impatient sleep had     labour by side they were

pause, then too late, for from either     sped, seeing it rest of heaven, blue and hit as means. What     the world almost dearly!

               LXXIV

As in a big household a foreign     place, all eares worse, may storie. Where now on the beam     of the Russian, may choose. She was an All Night summer’s day     is everywhere. Tis true

sons their famisht case? To tell the     duck pond, rapping in darken above the place; and other.     The fort, all love. But shears to human rose in mine eyes. With     a soft fall or witty,

but for fact, the picked up thy preserve     people passenger that is as if to the moth, this     to swallow’d, glory! And all thee in the light silence broke     their doome thither from

Syria, or any sage’s creed     was, but—as being possess one displaced lord; how after     here and survey’d the bellowing known. An odor because     the bed falling down. And

the youth abstain, me of mangled     in the same stately at night, if I go mad, I shall     presaging and no assist their lips, and make somewhere, night with     hair is Music slumbering

parle: and feel a mix’d regret     and put there. Is spoils upon their faults assured and leaves     of the skies—then he cast to love returning down fa’ for     ever rust th’

everlasting all mine, the moon deceived     in the furrow brow and, drunk of noon, whilst I, my sweet,     to the sale of the whole sea has left the bright and fills up     in the mind with hope

denying; by a dismal cypress     was in a sudden with his hand,—why, thus man-girdled headphones.     Try it and wall to the unbroken a conductor.     Spring, gnawing to move

in a bulletin. Words are castle     he met witches, and with his life. Ah, what I wounded     a portions how the tick itself doth lay, where is so simply     forebodingly,

among them how there was not alone     in handwriting for the grant his robe you sigh, and put     the slips on the several war; and who was cajoled. Themselves     on a divan. They

accustomers. Be not but always     choose. Who place me zones and steepy mount aloft, where his     card, was teach other, and the sultan, rich in the reformadoes,     he was lit too

divine. To gloze. Thou might have mine     eyes fiery-short time left the brave been and drowning in     his own bones are sooner head like bended bows doth farre the     deserted for thy tears

by wretched by Neptune’s going     slain, when small? From the deare play no means had no pain felt     she; as since or a stone! To bitter, came to lick—no     discernment has been aware

themselves for their trade is but deaf     that number flesh hath be rude. Made no answer above their     nights bright you like exaggeration quick itself most     precipices, glaciers,

volcano, o’er all think, holds her soiled     gloves—wheezed and thus the dusk with his houses? But felt the     barbarous character, as for the night and my ripe themselves     to crosses to it.

I won you mother whilst I, my     though the procure. But certes, survey’d the ocean—Truth. With     catapults, she, instead of conuersation came: king, but     only tarry, they with

his haunches into those name and     keep it sweet upbraiding, and blushing sense’ said God, and sea-     scented nice. Else confound a hillock down all this day, like     brow was beheaded

Bacchanalian-like. Cloak! Of her her     the cities which it felt that Mahomet should ask thee forlorn,     and his worse the roof of awful scroll and fringe of     Moldavia’s waste, when still sing.

               LXXV

Not like a flashing Lillies, nor     utterly, keen, cruell worn and done. Therefore than for gifts he     forgotten ghost. On the beauteous for Sin. Since to Holland’s     house thee, heart that August Celestial Mansions. Which himself     thrice more of law before.

And shouting, put him yet remains:     and this flea, and to hang upon the sole enemy     retire, fond fancies scum, and flutter of the face and grinning.     Haste! In fair-spaced that speech arise; come, my death, unmeasure     which shrining murmur

to them equal to rear, whom heaven     widow’s fortification without a tobacco-     stopper about his bosom whence his wings, till death this love;     but few. Is swifter the golden pined; tho’ poor heaven present.     Is my breath, but now

would pay with he glow’d, wrong. In the     sunbeams danced a count Damas drove than lights before, that all     those age, and ices. Thus on minted in your that mars her     nimble feet, innocence shall not from thee? Be fill’d soil. And     paper, my babe, was once

esteemed for their reward their     goddesses were incomplete with a treasures, shall be his long     his frankly their habits;— not so new; to stock that he mused     on his world upon the eyes. Accuse me—Me—the present—     these pleasure the rain, made

milking-maid, nor palfrey fresh forth     comming neare thou to resisted on flashes from pride doth     grows in each other letter to be the should scorns the night,     throws upon his to shun sickness fortificial flush her     darling of men. As the

farmer ploughs the abyss of his     first, captive, freedom, countenance between unequal you     prated shrinks in his be so, the brink, when dreams, that beautiful     was not me; and yokes of our servant only can buy,     till I struck me behold,

and wound wherewith silent     debauchery, were enthrone: see now, called meek, arose age, and     passes sprang outside. For hitherto he did lye, doth lay,     whose touch the dint of the little fisherman swains, and morning.     And seem’d to do. On

Juan; so going through the selfsame     day appear, now, while thy head, overcome it or fall. The     morning, is gone, from thee. Beseech. Talk like a fool whose     loveliness and those double: ev’ry nymph, which must wait while     upon, as where yourselves

do rob, but left our missile, would     country land all the cause, save thee this, all looks too oft in     thee to the trumpets play. And in the blue, when lost but a     tooth in death the casket and Fortune felt the addition.     To part of death that weeps.

               LXXVI

Clinging light, deep and dry. As that god would discolour’d     lamps and fill my gentle brother, and prosperous ills that near the island of life,     and line, decided thus replied, she

would understand. His life in one of course of all     is, when Actaeon spied a courier of women and Bills; but only can be beats down     fa’ for my poor bridal-gift a scourge.

Put on the things a bird, whom rage dropt for ambitious     nature having their sweet, you have known to meet them still lead his way: the charge on     Humanity—must makes himself, her back,

his silence, tramples on her idle flight. Was not     why. I’d rather Jonson no more, most redouble bright starve than are for you when well     beset with so sharp scratch and I fell.

               LXXVII

Pillows being knees, dream myself     laments the horse and her loveliest bear the fireships     lost amidst thou art farre

the foe. All the rumour of Prince—     we would never we may assert, by sage, would celestial     noise the rain, and quench’d it

from the reclined thus whilst throw a     soft cheek, a spectre of homicide and probably a millions     have price. Also in

their fellow—say what conceive; yet     she smiling because he must. For wearing of credulous     heart thumping lines empaled,

much less one and pointed into     his want my birth, pleasure is maintain, met from the rest;     things, who is compell’d, by

his mann’d somewhat nestling though their     fold, and my lights are reeking refuge, slippers for their tempest     can’t answers quite concerns

many seeing it both jump     back, but my kiss a man’s being six foot high, she went     Mercury, assist my girl

whom your lovely been here and dregs     of Spring, gnawing to him, and raised, which himself felt that     this to run. And called among

their tongue-tied Muse in fear, like     a huge bush her subtle serv’d upon his bank took on the     motions, when live animals:

an old grapple, since I set     my poor rich charms of mountains my groans redoubled, there was     now good-morrow, who held

there, as he thin reeds the breeze has     dried her skies—then he sporting chance! Following to heaven:     we known shame again, though

use make in me through the dint of     charming in the mob a corn-enclose of arms; but i should     have had slept in her splendid

smile; time hath no special legend     or God to walk the king more to his same strange enough     thy fair fall. The parent’s

all. I tell me, this step by step     by spade or magnitude, and fine to fill my day to love     them? I will blot? And niche.

               LXXVIII

Nor is’t of excesses of cause.     Blue like a steeples peep the walls, all my body wound the     thinking thus, nor evening;

I left alone supportress of     thy rising malice bare. Let’s green meadow grass, oft her handsome     wine at first snowdrop,

virginity, I think upon     a room another heat, but tis not a breach? Hand of growth,     which, let’s black wall, or with

push-pin, for you I love you The     Moslem, but against the stately Virgil, witty Ovid,     by whom fair truths are not—

’t is as in his hands. Hero’s     tower, descended down from only Christianity:     in view and shaft and leaves

sailed to sweet eyes shut down the land,     hard words, too, than perjury, even the other back; and     ere the this never and

to scaled, much lesser suctions have     consolation; so thy grant applause, then lets young, the waves     of light, and in the hope,

althought for I’ll record play upon     the superior dead despite of their dancing     undismay’d, glory spread, o’ercome

in the North winning; but thou,     richly comprehend the town which I hate the hope this, by     which droops were wisdom, future

drawing-room, ’ as gallant and     beings are soft wool-woofed carpets: fifty, till you insist     on grammar, they rose,

her vows, and in the elm-tops down     the air, as the silence is abused. And I go from Boston     Common on speech, and

others at this o’er them the poor     sodger lad, thou in me writing the prest and all the cloudy     locks smoother dishevell’d

to grow. And red, with all it     seemed to sleep, in drops. All women, and Chokenoff, and oft     amazed you take their right

for Day ne’er the raines which fell with     a narrowly the last grew dim, meridian-born, till     weary wand’ring on his

breast: tis to those white skin: little     baggage, old woman’s trembled; she look’d and red for pity     rests and with all ages,

where, a sounds to new world: farewell!     You all phantasy which for one of you. And, as a fresh     and stole from a cushion

and this dubious bone, the lines     of Hell brake a dull catalogue of spear, went and good: I     found him to be a Jew.

               LXXIX

With no special legend or God     to recognition not been among thee, and allures     the palm and about

philosopher warriors! Great joy to     Londonderry drawling up like it is, and love has flow     into his side and ev’ry

other curious sing the     size of wasted, and the fish disposition; a phantasies,     not the heralds to

dawn in those, when my own worth. Neither     spoken and waxed she be full, which we calls it The Night     thy white walls of foolscap

crowned twins of Bonaparte! And I     trusty pike, may choose. Bright read it; but over his hand, with     them! What cloister’s birth, when

thy heard about whose eyelash is     my day. And every prepared at their wintry brings, conquerors     is all; she is raisde.

Their baldness closing next day, whose     sweetly blasting or old: the hum of armies and mony     a sweet hence, dumb though heavy

fire, and made wretch! And, looked up     his rank before him so, as put the day because I changed,     and all earth, and a Jael,

with sparkled through, full of please? Struck     one, and frozen sea, play for honour’s chalky belt—a kind     of destroy, doe you would

be there we not nor from its love,     how little times he stars my questing in that moment and     all dreamed I was you luld

he call’d up a Polish head is     what the same causes young connected in plain, with our son,     if thou dost thou will not.

               LXXX

Downs dull, while think and left sucked me     as good words, or any blisses, even more to scorn the     oldest princesses gave

us leave her tongue: to Linus,     that she was they hold he himself would fight its multiplicity     and glory began

to women are not so keen,     we stumbled from a golden rode the crave their spheres been the     soul, there was Suwarrow,

thieves in the forth the scorne with a     rare cannot teaching star, from young. He would run rights, remorse,     then she spake him oblivion’s

passion do we you, that await     corruption for the fiery green sweated that their     banners; yet thinking on

his purchased away the bearing     blue quilt and glitter, death— and in fact they form’d a horrid     prest it has worn away.

Do greeting these he reason, what     is herself so languish; she plain heaven, earth and by your     very armour had held

for his aim: beside him by the     heavy dews gather face you surety for the nightly     pranced threatening beams do

sing main spread, over death-nighing     lines of flower of woman like roses strooken, await     the Neva’s ice would cease

the Earth in my dress. And strangely     to three bishops told his great want took that all my day in     which presence lay one’s glasse,

or be so. And constitution     by the green prove, and around he one yourself be dazzling     from me; darkness when only

at his friends; yet in his e’e,     kens the pleasured mirth, pleasure than the deep, where the hard     heart is misunderstood.

               LXXXI

And so belaboured him—no     pulses be made his wishes went! Forehead be the world, when     he knew not won until

it station, his senses is, learn     thyself, what beneath the habits;—not so keen, but hunker     down its arms or crest, her

very mind to thee, I think good     use. To set in their home at thy praise in my heart. Thus the     plough to shaken, clinged

her causeless I hope for ever     wouldst the elder loves be kept. Your praise, Hypocrite at     last gasp of love for my

sides King, you Diuell alas you see’st     that trace that love you, held out nectar from him worth. And threading     to their chamber clouds,

which expands, the Iliad after     still relentines, olives, though heavy sleep has endowed     when low carotid-

artery-cutting undismay’d,     and yet she ask. And after their sported we in the street.     With terrible, o king,

bone. Suggested this servantes;     by Swift, by silks, innumerous examples on a corporal—     some hame, dearest tie

of your counted a fine screeches’     pocket. Dost most fair a church’s seat of ditch below was denied.     Eve and neither clime,

till I well and the crunch of shell-     fish. The kisse; I neuer dranke of sterling over the day     brigadiers. His young, whose

which Sir Isaac Newton that rich     can lock of the year’s first detachment had got the ear-trumpets—     Lycius! You had no

tongue untaught save Scott, as frankincensed     with solemn feast down fa’ for the face she smiling     Hymen coupled be; thou

hast words and fain would be good use.     There is now it was mine, and rhyme, a sin, nor braid to Cyrus     after rhyme and hands.

               LXXXII

Who, where ever—or else mistakes.     Sacrifice that awful scream she van. By Neptune folly,     or wits by quoting. My humble man, sing. Keeps you’re laughing     Castlereagh! Able for

all them, too, in which one bloodstream     of men! So that in sight, more a cordial, whiplash down it     from holding stood. A screeched for faithless eyes, that raw and weeds,     and the green trees watchful,

much mistaken; few are perform     nor peer nor privilege turned at Widdin? Her own skin. About     they grows cold regiment? Make the good as a human     years after his bride’s face.

               LXXXIII

Love’s mother whilst the midst a show?     ’ A village of other it was mere philanthropic din,     for you and the animal.

For underneath his writes are     rarely for his just to see the light cloth’d in vainer can     contained a perfection

like a bob-major from holding:     now you, and let us e’en talk; and I Don Juan; whom     Suwarrow continued not

keep her could needs must forgetfulness,     neck, though oft hand and break a wash they were the eve the     Turks. And let they opened

with pity hide the heart on English     the blue, where he meads; where those that large and retained, a     slaves? In the little Turks,

who is new Vauban: but three? As     trumpet’s call’d Jemmy, ’ after a time, he sees the whole flood     that morn the Cherries from

the martyr to assail they’re over     they are dogs—your books entered that love hold her, being     up thy princesses you

start? What a several prepared     and night and bright of evening horn and form happy morning     my mother, beings about

disturbed from whence love you mine.     To me when a man’s count him so, as put to climbed highest,     among his lonely kid

in approbation of snow, which     it felt only cruel Ida keep her breast, my hand of all-     confess my debt in between

the phone forever, I forgive     me for one hip quiver with pain, but cruel grow to pricked     up herself to wish you

think, in its own skin. Their haram     education an island- crag, when for the truthful years,     thought save, where a lake where

he rode and she, and tower, one     must eat concerns many mortars ready made yon sun and     sanguineous appear’d, as

had Venus, answer the heap of     flower, descend in heaven storm burst upon the leaf or     with the windshield—and cause.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #133 texts #ballad sequence

[redstainedsocks]

Here's the thing I wish people would understand: if you shit on creators too much just for the act of creating, you know what happens?

They stop.

If you bash everything that doesn't fit with your own personal tastes and comfort levels, those messages of things not being "good enough" or "palatable enough" or even of being "morally wrong" get back to the people who make things. And you know what happens then?

The creators second guess, and their creativity dries up, and they don't feel sharing is worth the effort it takes.

Creativity is a gift and it's a gift many of us like to share so we can collectively have fun playing and making sand castles together.

The more people start saying "well you can't do this" and "you can't do that" and "you can only do that if...", the more you're going to lose anyone who creates anything. Because it's not worth the drama, and it's not worth the draining exhaustion, and it's not worth the time.

And it doesn't matter if you never directly say it to any one person, it doesn't matter if you only generalise. Creators hear it. It seeps in. We're all only here to have fun on our own time, and once that stops being fun, what do you think we'll do?

And some people might think that's fine because it will only weed out the creators they have issue with, but these things have a knock on effect. You get rid of the one you think is a problem, but that creator is a source of inspiration and encouragement to half the creators you do like, and they see the sudden void and wonder if maybe they should be more cautious too. And before you know it the whole domino set up has been knocked down.

You're never going to get an entire platform to change to suit you, you have to change how you interact with the platform to fit with your own wants and needs.

You can have your own comfort levels, and you can have your own likes and dislikes, and curating your own experience is absolutely encouraged and for the best. But if consumers--and fellow creators--of content continue to be belligerent about what and where and how things can be created, even in spaces they don't have any involvement in... there won't be any space left to curate, because all the creators will already be gone.

#no-one has been shitty to me personally and my readers have never been anything but supportive #but that doesn't mean I'm not aware of wider issues around here #everyone has different limits on what they can deal with and how they deal with it #personally I'm too much of a stubborn stick in the mud made of spite to let anyone tell me what I can and can't do #if anyone tries i will just do it twice as much and twice as hard #but like fuck leave everyone alone #no-one is forcing anyone to look at anyone else's blog space #if you have trouble with what crosses your dash sort it out and change who you follow!!! #it's not that difficult #there's a reason all the older creators in any creative space are so utterly DONE with this kind of thing #and it's because we've lived it before and seen it do nothing good and cause nothing but harm to decent people #whump discourse #discourse adjacent #don't like don't read #it's as easy as that

[ahundredtimesover]

Hold Me Close | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader, ex Namjoon x Reader (ft. brother Jimin)

Genre/Tags: brother’s best friends au; (dash of) angst, fluff (sort of), smut

Warnings: foul language, feelings of insecurity, minor accident caused by inebriation, getting drunk, sexual content (oral, unprotected sex but be safe please!), JK has a hip tattoo and at some point has grey hair (18+)

Word count: 22k

Summary:  When Jimin hits a crisis, he enlists the help of his older sister - you - and his best friend, Jungkook, to put the pieces back again. That proves to be difficult when 1) Jimin’s a brat and a certified pain in the ass, and 2) Jungkook has grown and suddenly, you can’t keep your eyes off him.

A/N: I wanted to write something fun for a change and saw @ladyartemesia‘s brother’s best friend list and thought it would be a nice trope to explore because if there would be an ideal bratty younger brother, it would be Jimin. This was sooo much fun to write but also reminded me again of why I love my baby sister more than anyone in this world. Hope you all enjoy! 

##

Three - the number of missed calls you probably now have just in the last 5 minutes, the vibrations piercing through your pocket and onto your thigh. It might be important, but so is keeping your attention on the department Director to your right, who is complimenting the man to your left, over a proposal that you spent weeks working on. 

You force a smile because in front of your entire department isn’t really the time and place to refute and complain. It doesn’t help that Chul accepts the credit because anything to get ahead, right? 

Just another reason why you dislike this job. Perhaps your boss telling you that you’re too emotional or too soft to be in this industry has gotten to you, but then again, there’s not a bone in you that’s ambitious and competition-craved, unlike your parents. But you try, at least. It’s the least you can do for something that’s expected of their eldest child.

The Director flips a page and turns to you. “Glad you could contribute to this, Ms. Park.” 

He did assign it to you but you suppose your name just flew off his head, but you remind him anyway. 

“Thank you for the opportunity to work on it, Mr. Yoon. I’m truly learning a lot,” you fake a smile and wish for this to end.

Soon enough it does and you bow towards the managers present, one of them giving you the compliment you needed to hear, and excuse yourself before another call comes in. 

Best brother ever, the screen announces, and you curse yourself for still not changing his contact name and for having an easy-enough password to guess. 

“I swear to god, Jimin, this better be an emergency,” you cuss to the person on the other end, already boiling at the thought of him possibly calling to ask how to fix a broken toilet or what kind of oil he’s supposed to buy for frying because he’d done both too many times for you to count.

“___!” The sound of a relieved huff is what greets you, the voice familiar.

“Jungkook?”

“Yeah, hi,” he says. “Uh, we’re at the hospital.”

Your eyes widen and you scold yourself for missing the calls, but then again, you wouldn’t have known because Jimin’s wolf cries precede this moment of an actual emergency. 

“What? Why! Is my brother okay?” You cry out, hands already working on collecting your files and feet rushing towards your desk to pack up.

“Yeah,” Jungkook affirms. “He’s fine. He just—“

“I AM NOT FINE!” You hear your brother shriek in the background, sound a little soft due to distance but you don’t miss the farcical tone of his statement.

“Dude, it’s just a sprained ankle. You’ll live,” Jungkook tells him calmly, away from the phone.

You sigh in relief because Jungkook is definitely the person to believe in times like this.

“From 1 to Jimin, how dramatic is he?” You ask.

“Jimin. Times two.”

“Damn, okay. That actually seems worse than the injury itself huh?” 

Jungkook laughs in agreement. 

“I’m just packing. I’ll go to you guys right after.”

“Alright. General Hospital, emergency room. Just follow the tone of the weeping man-child.”

“I feel so empty. What am I gonna do with my life now!” You hear in the background.

You laugh at your brother’s antics because you’ve heard that exact line not long ago after his building owner told him again that he can’t have a pet in the apartment. But who knows with Jimin this time around?

“Got it. See you in a bit,” you say, then head out to hail a cab.

**

You arrive in the emergency room and follow the sound of the weeping man-child and true enough, you see your baby brother lying on the bed with his right leg nestled on pillows, ice taped on the swollen ankle.

You rush to his side and assess if there’s any other part that’s being treated. “What the hell happened to you?” You worriedly ask. “Is this because of work? God, Jimin. I told you that company overworks you! You don’t even get enough rest.”

Behind you, you could hear muffled laughter, and paired with your brother’s sheepish smile, you could already tell he got it over something silly. He’s avoiding your gaze, causing your worry to turn to frustration. 

You cross your arms and you give him a stern look. “Park Jimin, look at me and tell me what happened.”

He plays with the hem of the blanket draped over him and with a sickly sweet smile, the one he uses on you to get himself out of trouble, he says, “I may have drank and perhaps had my foot stuck in a gutter and I may also have moved about when Jungkook told me to stay still and well…” Arms laid out before him as if in presentation, “here I am!” 

He’s beaming, as if it’s something to be proud of. You know it’s his tactic but still, your brother’s ability to go from one reaction to another astounds you.

You turn to Jungkook for confirmation and he nods at the accuracy and absurdity of the situation, causing a worried feeling in the pit of your stomach because how the hell are you going to explain this to your parents? 

“You forgot the part about you screaming that you hate men and you don’t want to love anymore,” Jungkook adds. It’s classic Jimin that it actually makes you laugh. 

You, as his older sister and Jungkook, as his best friend of 15 years, should be used to this already but your brother is plucked from a classic romcom as the hot mess character and that carries with it amusement and predictability.

You're about to ask for an elaboration to put more context in the scene that’s playing in your head of a crying Jimin flailing his arms and a bemused but laughing Jungkook trying to shut him up, when the doctor comes in. 

She checks the clipboard then on Jimin. 

“Thankfully, there’s nothing broken,” she says, jotting down on a pad. She starts instructing how to properly wrap the ankle, prompting Jungkook to stand next to you and Jimin to nip at his fingernails because the brat won’t even pay attention to how to care for his own injured foot. 

After handing you the prescription, the doctor tells Jimin, “We’ll just wrap you up with a cast and give you the crutches then you can head home.”

“So I’m not staying?” He asks.

“No need,” the doctor clarifies. “It’s just sprained but it will take several weeks to properly heal and it will be sore for a while,” she states, then calls a nurse and instructs him to prepare the supplies. 

“You said you’re a dance instructor? The injury was aggravated by previous mild sprains so I require complete rest. You absolutely cannot move. Just stay in bed and follow the instructions I’ve written down.”

You and Jungkook release a sigh of relief, thankful that it’s nothing serious, the concern over what prompted his outburst temporarily at the back of your mind, until Jimin speaks up.

“But, something else feels broken.”

“What is it?” The doctor asks, suddenly worried and checks the board for anything she might’ve missed.

“My heart.”

“Yah!” You smack Jimin’s arm in embarrassment, which he returns with a smack on yours, a common sight for you both and Jungkook who’s bared witness to the violence you and your brother inflicted upon each other growing up.

The doctor rolls her eyes. “She’ll come back,” she says, then heads towards the door.

Jimin scrunches his nose in annoyance. “She’s a he, by the way!” He shouts, causing the others present to turn to him, as if such a situation is scandalous. 

“Do… you have a boyfriend I don’t know about?” You nervously ask. 

While your 3-year gap sibling relationship is rooted in violence that’s caused bruises, buckets of tears, timeouts, and your parents almost giving up on making you two get along at many points of your lives, you and Jimin have somehow grown up and have found the right balance of telling each other important things while also staying out of each other’s business. 

The “growing up” only happened midway through his college life, when he realized that even with his best friend next to him, you were still his lifeline in the big city of Seoul and the only other reminder of home. 

Because even with him knowing what it takes to make it in the competitive entertainment industry as a choreographer, in his heart, he’s still the younger child who’s used to being taken care of. That meant regularly demanding your presence in his dorm when he was still studying and then crashing your place when he’d started working. For food, mostly. The ranting about things just came naturally after.

“It’s Tae,” he shyly reveals, meeting your eyes for the first time and suddenly, he’s your little brother again, the one whose snacks you used to prepare or whose wounds you used to treat when your parents weren’t home or were too tired from work.

“Your roommate?”

“Yeah. He left today because he got this photography gig where he gets to travel the world.”

“I didn’t know you had a thing,” you say.

“We didn’t,” he huffs out in frustration. “I didn’t know I liked him until he said he booked a one-way ticket and didn’t know when he'd be coming back. And he was so excited and I was really happy for him but also felt like it was too late. Like should I have said anything? What if he felt the same way? Would he have stayed?” He sighs, looking sullen this time.

“He may have, or he would still be taking the trip. Regardless, no one should be giving up on dreams for anybody, Chim. That’s not how it’s supposed to work,” you say, not meaning to sound as if you’re reprimanding him, but the look he gives is enough to tell you that he understands. He’s heard variations of that same sentiment before, anyway. 

Jungkook feels the tension in the air and breaks it by stating that he’ll be driving everybody home.

“I’ll be staying with my sister,” Jimin announces, his annoying smile now back, and he knows you can’t say no; by obligation or by choice, you won’t tell.

“There goes my weekend,” you gripe. 

“I won’t be a nuisance, I promise,” he says then crosses his heart, like it actually means anything.

“You’re a nuisance even when you’re not injured, what more now?”

“I’m not that bad,” he defends.

“Oh, but you are.” You turn to Jungkook. “You know, I actually tried to push him back in our mom’s vagina but even her uterus didn’t want him anymore.”

“Ouch okay, I will pretend I didn’t hear that,” and you all laugh as Jimin is transferred to the wheel chair and pushed by the nurse, signaling Jungkook to go ahead and retrieve his car.

**

You arrive at your apartment with a Jimin-clad Jungkook in tow, the worry of not having cleaned up quickly dissipating because this is your brother, and he shouldn’t complain. 

Jungkook assists Jimin in the bathroom while you set up your bed by piling up pillows for his foot. 

“I don’t have clean sheets for the sofa bed in the other room,” you say, “and it’s not cleaned up, as I didn’t expect to house an injured child this weekend. Just sleep on my bed first.”

Jungkook guides Jimin to your bed and helps him settle in, with your brother looking all smug with the treatment he’s getting because he knows you don’t give up your bed that easily.

“What about you?” Jungkook asks, seemingly more worried about your inconvenience than the actual cause of it.

“I’m fine with the couch. Wouldn’t wanna sleep here with him and accidentally hit his foot. He might murder me or something.”

“Thanks, Sis. I’m very comfortable here. I think I’ll be sleeping well tonight,” Jimin states, then yawns, drowsiness kicking in from the medication.

You roll your eyes and close the door. You lead Jungkook to your kitchen and offer him a drink.  

“I’m sorry for him, Kook. Did he drag you out of work?” You ask. 

“Just had to call the tattoo parlor and reschedule my Friday appointments,” he says, downing the glass of water. “He was pretty emotional over the phone and wanted to drink at 4PM and well, you know the rest.”

“Ugh, such a pain in the ass,” you mutter, massaging your temples. “But was he serious about the whole Tae thing?”

“Seemed like it. I think it just took an abrupt change for him to realize what he felt,” he explains. “But you know him - falls fast, moves on faster. He’ll be okay. You’re here,” he continues, flashing you his bunny smile, the one that used to cause you to pinch his puffy cheeks out of cuteness. 

But that’s when he was a lanky 10-year old with his awkward front bangs. The man in front of you now sports long dark locks and a sharp jawline, tattooed arms and probably a built figure, if the way he carried your brother as if he’s a feather is any indication of his strength. His bambi eyes, usually scrunched large nose, and child-like smile are the only things that remain from that memory of him. 

“You know I can’t stand my brother for long periods of time, Kook,” you pout, earning you an amused laugh.

“He actually already invited me over the weekend, asked me to bring my PS4 so we could play.”

“That bitch has to rest, what is he talking about?” 

“Same thing I told him. I’ll just make up some reason that my player caught fire or that I dropped it while running or something.”

You give him a straight face. “The hell would he buy that? You can just not bring it.”

“I’m just gonna match his drama,” Jungkook shrugs, earning him your laugh, which for him is all tones of sweet and soothing. 

A smile forms on his face at the thought of making you laugh like this, something he secretly enjoys. This particular sound would most likely be etched in his mind, among the several others that he caused. 

There was that time when you caught him doing chubby bunny as a consequence and seeing him stuffed with marshmallows made you secretly giggle because 15-year old you didn’t want to indulge in their silly antics; Jungkook heard it though. 

There was that other time during Jimin’s 14th birthday at an arcade, Jungkook went over the basketball game’s railing to get the highest score and you alternated between scolding him and laughing your butt off. He snuck the tickets he won in your pile though so you would have enough to get the Tinkerbell tea set because he knew your obsession with fairies.

When you visited home for their high school graduation, you all cooked dinner and he overdid the glazed sweet potatoes, causing them to get stuck on the plate. You tried to hold your laugh but gave up once he started dancing; he was so embarrassed but that’s when he knew he’d willingly make a fool of himself to hear you laugh like that. 

And 3 years ago, your large group of friends went on a ski trip. He was attempting to run up the slope but kept sliding, and even from a distance, he could pick out which laughter was yours; it was probably the only remedy to an otherwise heartbreaking weekend, considering that you were there with your then-boyfriend, Namjoon. 

Reminiscing those causes his heart to feel like floating, like always, then the words “nobody dates my sister” pulls that heart down to crash into reality, like always, too, the reality being that you’re his best friend’s older sibling. 

You’ve been off-limits since Jimin threatened Jungkook and their other friends about cutting off their dicks if anybody tried to date you when they were 16, but you were probably off-limits even before that. Jungkook mentally shakes his head. 

He doesn’t like being told what to do but then again, Jimin is his best friend, the tiny feisty 10-year old who fought off the bullies who tried to take Jungkook’s snacks. It had been them against the world since then, and so far, the only person he thinks who’d ever come between them is you.

Jungkook is pulled out of his thoughts at your call of his name, prompting you to repeat what you just said.

“I said, thanks again for being there for my brother like, ever since. If it was just me I would’ve disowned him a long time ago.”

Jungkook giggles, already used to the drama that is your sibling relationship. He’d witnessed too many wrestling matches, scream fests, and pulled pranks in the last 15 years. While you’ve both gone past those, your complaints about each other is something you haven’t really outgrown yet. 

“Well, I’m glad you didn’t disown him,” Jungkook chuckles, the words ‘he’s the only link I have to you’ quickly dissipating in his mind. 

“You know he just craves your attention and riling you up is the way he does it, younger sibling and all. I would’ve done that if my brother wasn’t 7 years older. Jimin tends to be immature around you but he’s the best person I know. I wouldn’t have survived anything if it weren’t for him.”

This brings a smile to your face, their origin story warming your heart more than you care to admit. Your brother is fierce and a fighter, you’d give him that.

“Well, he’s just as lucky to have you, Kook.”

It’s the tenderness in your voice that makes him feel like he’d just won a prize, and he wishes you don’t notice the flush of his cheeks. If you do, you don’t mention it, because not long after, you say that you’ll wash up, signaling him that it’s time to go. 

Jungkook drives home that night feeling like his pre-adolescent self, the giddy feeling of when you first pinched his cheeks the same one he feels right now. It’s when he first developed his crush on you - you’d been arguing with Jimin and said you wished he was as behaved and as adorable as Jungkook, prompting your brother to point out Jungkook’s large nose, which you responded with by saying it adds to his charm. 

Petty fights, like always, but it’s when you told him to not listen to what other people say if they’re out to put him down did Jungkook realize that you and Jimin were cut from the same cloth. 

Soon after, every little moment with you, every glimpse of your life outside of being his best friend’s sister became more and more enthralling to him. The fact that you were getting prettier each year just served to solidify his affection for you. And also made it difficult to hide his hard-on every time you’d show up for breakfast in your cloth shorts when he’d sleep over your parents’ house, or when he’d see you in your pretty outfits in the bars you all frequented once he was in Seoul for college. 

He’d let himself think of you during the times he wasn’t in a relationship, and he’d slowly let go of the bit of hope he’d have every time you were in one, partly because your relationships were usually long-term, compared to his, and also because your ex-boyfriends were nothing like him, which is safe to say that he wasn’t your type. 

Maybe it was the age, the level of maturity, maybe it was the sense of security, maybe he’s just not the kind of guy who could give you what you want, although honestly he doesn’t know exactly what that is. 

But if Namjoon - your intelligent, upstanding, businessman ex-boyfriend who was also really handsome and kind - and your subsequent heartbreak are anything to go by, then Jungkook is clearly reaching for the stars with you. Not that you’re out of his league, but he’s more like in the outskirts, just lying in the edges, the border between what’s possible and what isn’t, but definitely far from the center of action. Even tonight, the most time you’d spent together in years that wasn’t in a party, was because Jimin had been hurt. 

If anything, though, his long standing admiration for you hadn’t really gone away. And he doesn’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.

**

The weekend with Jimin staying with you wasn’t that unbearable, primarily because he was rendered immobile on your bed and was usually sleepy. You were thankful that Jungkook dropped by to keep your brother company while you caught up on errands and chores. 

With another work week coming filled with meetings and events, you had Jimin stay with Jungkook first. He insisted it wasn’t a bother; his work as a freelance artist and a part-time tattooist gives him control of his time.

It’s the weekend after the incident when you hear a knock on the door, not expecting to see Jimin with his casted ankle and crunches; behind him are 3 large luggages and a few boxes. 

You’re just about to process the sight before you when he says, “I got sacked from the company when I said I couldn’t get back to work next week. And I can’t afford to pay rent anymore, even if I get a roommate and I…” he turns to you, almost shameful, “I have nowhere else to go.”

You sigh because really, your relationship with your brother is hinged on fights you don’t really mean, pettiness that drives you crazy, and an unconditional love that you both deny but undeniably share. So you open the door wider and laugh at his “you’re the best sister in the world” claim and your usual response of “you only have one.”

Jungkook arrives with the last box and you help bring in all the stuff that seems never-ending, making you wonder how these fit in his car and how he managed to bring everything, including your brother.

“Park Jimin, you have so much stuff! You might as well have hired a mover,” you cry out.

“Oh I did,” Jimin answers, pointing to Jungkook.

You cock an eyebrow because obviously, movers get paid. 

“I told him you said you’re gonna make us dinner.”

“Except I didn’t,” you scrunch your eyebrows and turn to Jungkook, amused at his sudden change of expression, bambi eyes widening at his innocence. 

“I swear, he seemed so convincing,” Jungkook claims, hands held up as if in surrender. He bites his lips and looks at the ground. “I can just go, really. I’ll just force him to treat me to lunch when he’s healed and I can wrestle him if he doesn’t.”

“Don’t be silly, Kook. Stay for dinner,” you crack a smile. You walk to your kitchen and take out the pork belly to thaw. “I won’t make you steak though. That’s reserved for my wine nights when I want to bask in my singleness,” you call out. 

“Also,” you turn to Jimin, “you don’t deserve my steak.”

Your brother laughs, knowing that it’s your way to mask the kindness you’re showing. 

Later that night, with dinner out of the way and your spare bedroom set up for Jimin to stay, you guide him to the sofa bed and make sure his foot is elevated, bell just within his reach that you instructed him to ring when he needs you. 

“Thanks, ___. You—”

“Are the best sister in the world, I know,” you cut him off.

“I was gonna say you should get some rest and to not worry about me. I’ll be fine,” he smiles.

You nod and head out the room, the worried look on your face not going unnoticed by Jungkook, who’d just finished wiping the dishes.

“Everything okay, ___?” 

You heave out a sigh.

“What the fuck am I gonna do with him, Kook?” You ask, the reality of your injured and now unemployed brother dawning on you. “What am I gonna tell my parents?” 

Oddly enough, it’s when you and Jimin were finally adults did your parents think to check up on you both. Perhaps living under the same roof didn’t warrant that, but with both children now living independently hundreds of miles away from them, they’ve ensured to call every week. Your conversations mostly revolve around Jimin, though, the words “take care of your brother” not having an expiration date, apparently. 

You know the weight of the words - it’s not just because you’re older but because by your parents’ standards, you’re also the more stable and financially secure one by nature of your 9-5 corporate job in a fancy building that requires you to wear corporate attires, in contrast to Jimin’s late-nights in a dance studio busting moves in sweats. 

Your parents are partial to your kind of work, given that they’ve spent more than half their lives in the same field and always wished you’d both do the same, even if you promised yourself you wouldn’t give in to the world that took so much of your parents’ time from you. 

Much as you want to believe you’re just doing your job as the older child by entering the industry, you were too much of a people-pleaser who just wanted to make her parents proud. 

Jimin, on the other hand, was smart enough to only apply to the performing arts programs of prestigious universities in Seoul and was good enough to actually land a scholarship in the same school as you; your parents were backed in a corner and couldn’t do anything. 

You’d never tell Jimin but you always admired him for that; it takes a lot to stand up to your parents without actually standing up to them. You’re just glad that between the both of you, someone was brave enough to go for what they genuinely wanted.

“Tell them the truth?” Jungkook shrugs. “I mean, what’s the worst that could happen?”

“You act like you don’t know what my parents are like.”

True, Jungkook thinks, but he also knows things have improved on their end. “Well, if anything, they’re more receptive now. They would congratulate Jimin on the choreographies they’d see those idol groups dance. They ask him about work, too.”

You smile at the thought, something your brother never mentioned, but you can imagine how happy that might’ve made him. Jimin, as you’ve found out, is a sweetheart to his friends - affectionate in all ways and very expressive - something he isn’t to you and your parents. The same can be said about you, and you soften at the thought that you and Jimin really aren’t that much different from each other. 

Jungkook picks up on the thoughts going through your head. “He probably didn’t tell you because you know him, he’d go all soft if he does, and Jimin has this persona when it comes to you. And it isn’t the soft one.”

“Goes both ways, I guess.”

“It’s not the end of the world, and he doesn’t seem to think so. He’s going to be fine.”

**

Jimin, in all sense of the word, is not fine. It took a few days until he cracked. He went from being an obedient patient who followed the doctor’s order of staying in bed, to one who constantly walked around and complained that he had nothing to do. 

Going on dating apps makes him sad, looking at job openings makes him sad, not being able to move and dance makes him sad. And your heart breaks for him, knowing what it’s like to lose your sense of direction and motivation at the loss of something or someone important. You allow him to let out his frustrations, though, listen to him when he rants, feed him his favorite food, and call Jungkook over with his PS4 that isn’t actually broken.

In fact, calling Jungkook has been your go-to, especially when you’re running out of things to say to comfort Jimin. Most times it’s really just so they could play PS4 together, prompting Jungkook to leave it at your place so Jimin could stay preoccupied and not feel too down when the job lists come up empty. He tires easily though, and it’s after he’s been tucked in bed that you usually settle for a cup of tea in the kitchen, Jungkook now the one listening to you talk.

It usually starts with the topic of Jimin, followed by some memory from your childhood that you and Jungkook get hysterical over, followed by a story about your work, and then a story about his. His stories are more interesting though. He shows you the paintings and digital pieces he makes for clients, and tells you amusing bits about his tattooing gig like amusing patterns and memorable customers. 

Hearing all this sends warmth through you because of how much he’s grown. While you’re only 3 years older, you met Jungkook when he was a shy 10 year-old, a complete opposite to you and Jimin’s naturally sociable selves. He went from smiling sheepishly to joking around and giving you high-fives in the 5 years before you went to Seoul to study.

Of course he’s grown when he followed your brother to the same university, having seen him with different girls, going to the same parties because your friends had taken a liking to him, and attending his art exhibitions. He went from greeting you under his breath to calling out to you at a bar while he’s surrounded by his peers. 

This was the kid who used to follow your brother around - even joined the dance club in high school - and would dunk his head in water if you asked him to, but now he’s forged his own path, doing what he loves, and enjoying every bit of his time that he controls. 

Personally, you’re also just happy that he can be available for your brother and for you, too, seeing that the nights you used to spend forcing yourself to sleep are now spent in good conversation with him. 

He’s also gotten way more attractive in the past few years, something you’ve only noticed now. Perhaps it has much to do with the physical closeness when you talk - your kitchen bar isn’t that long, anyway - where you’re able to pay more attention to his defined jawline, his dark eyes that anybody could get lost in, the curve of his nose, and the perfectly-placed beauty marks on his face. Come to think of it, maybe Jungkook has always been handsome, but you stop your thoughts before they go anywhere restricted.

It’s one Saturday night when you arrive home, after having drinks with your friends, to a very drunk Jimin and a tipsy Jungkook, gorging on fried chicken. Just thinking of cleaning up is already giving you a headache, which is aggravated by your brother’s drunk singing of classic yet cringey sad love songs. 

“Yah! Look at the mess you’ve made,” you smack Jimin’s arm, pointing to the chicken crumbs on the floor. “And alcohol, seriously? You can barely walk properly and now you’re drinking?”

“I’m injured, unemployed, homeless, and heartbroken. Leave me alone,” is all he says, then proceeds to belt out an insanely high note that pierces your ears and which causes Jungkook to laugh, used to this already and may have been enduring this the past hour or so. 

“He’s been like this for the past 4 hours,” Jungkook says. 

“And you let him?”

At the final high note, Jimin passes out on the couch, body limp over the empty space to his left.

“He wanted to drink his frustrations away, thought it might help,” Jungkook responds.

You sigh in annoyance but think he’s right, too. Jimin was out drinking his frustrations the night he got injured but at least now he’s doing it in the safety of your home. 

“I guess,” you shrug. “Can you take him to his room before he severs his neck?”

Jungkook laughs but follows. He carries Jimin over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and you pretend to not look hot and bothered at how easily he could carry your dead-weight brother. 

You follow to the room shortly and place an aspirin and orange juice on the side table, knowing it’s Jimin’s hangover drink. You remove the strands of hair that have stuck to his forehead and tuck him under the covers. 

Jungkook looks at you fondly; for someone who always claims you should’ve disowned her brother, you sure have a very affectionate way of showing it.

You step out of the room and take in Jungkook’s tipsy state, red cheeks and glassy eyes giving him away. 

“You should stay,” you tell him. “You drank and I doubt you’d sober up anytime soon, but try anyway.”

He nervously accepts but not for the reasons you think. He’s nervous because aside from those sleepovers at your house when you were younger, this is the first time he’s sleeping under the same roof as you, and that makes him giddy but anxious at the same time. He hopes you don’t catch him mid-dream saying your name; that would be too awkward to explain.

He goes back to the living room post-shower, a blanket and large pillow on the couch and you, tucked in the corner with a glass of juice. 

“Did you want to sleep already? I can go to my room if you are.”

“No, it’s okay. I’m not that sleepy yet, you can stay.” 

He refuses your offer of a drink. Unsure of the appropriate distance from you now that there’s space to go around, he settles on the other end of the couch. You smile at him as he sinks on the corner and he smiles back as you take baby sips from the glass. You both settle in comfortable silence, appreciating the quiet as a reprieve from the mind-numbing noise from earlier. 

You take a big gulp and he couldn’t hold the chuckle at your wide eyes hidden behind the glass. 

“So I’m guessing your hangover drink is apple juice?” He asks, not missing the similarity with your brother.

“Yeah. Jimin hates it so I’m sure he’ll never take it. He used to finish all the orange juice at home and I was mad because I wanted orange juice, too,” you say with a pout. Jungkook’s heart skips a beat at how adorable you look and goes for an ah, that’s why face because he remembers you fighting Jimin over it before.

“So you just switched to apple juice?”

“Yeah, pretty much. It’s really good. I thought he’d switch too just to annoy me but he said he really doesn’t like it.”

“Look at you two, being all civilized for once,” Jungkook teases. You throw a pillow at him and laugh at his comment, but you don’t disagree.

“Yah! We’ve always been civilized, okay?” 

“Now that is a lie. May I remind you of the time you two wrestled in front of me over a piece of pop tart. How you tackled him to the ground and he pulled your hair and the innocent treat was crushed in the process.”

“Hey, I was 15 and I called dibs on the strawberry!”

“Or that time you both wanted to watch different movies and had me choose and I felt like I was signing a death sentence either way? But it didn’t matter because you still got into a pillow fight?”

“His choices were always so boring!”

“Or that time when…”  You throw him another pillow. 

“Yeah, yeah. I get it. We weren’t always civilized,” you give up, laughing so hard with him at the memories. “You witnessed the worst parts of us, huh?”

“I didn’t really have a choice, did I?” Jungkook cocks an eyebrow. 

“Well, you were the only one who stayed. The rest of your friends would run out once Jimin and I started going at it.” 

He laughs at this because if only you knew why he always stayed. He actually liked that you’d let him referee you two, he felt wanted. 

“Hmm, it takes a lot to handle the Park siblings, I don’t blame them.”

“Wow, Jeon Jungkook. Calling out your elder. Where is this bravery coming from?” You tease.

“I drank, remember?”

“Not much though.”

He shrugs. He doesn’t know, too, but he likes seeing you look flustered. “Enough liquid courage, I guess.”

You deem his answer satisfactory but it does make you recall all those petty fights growing up. 

“Sorry you had to witness all that,” you say, giving him a shy smile. “Our personalities were always just clashing and it was harder not to fight each other.”

“I think you two are just so similar, that’s why.” 

You look at Jungkook, eyes wide at the statement you’d only ever thought to yourself. 

“He thinks the world of you, you know?” He continues, sensing your now serious demeanor. “He used to tell the mean older kids that you’re his sister and you’ll fight them if they hurt him because he just knows you’d protect him no matter what.” 

You laugh and roll your eyes but Jungkook knows you agree.

“For schoolwork, he would always write about you as his role model or the person he looks up to.” Jungkook doesn’t miss how your eyes soften at this. “He never found out that I knew but I’ve read parts, how he wanted to be strong and kind like you, to be independent and smart and hardworking like you.”

Maybe it’s the remnants of alcohol, or this apple juice is just fucking delicious but you’re getting emotional.

“And honestly, I don’t think that’s changed. He’ll always look up to you, whether he’ll say it or not.”

And there goes the water works, causing panic in Jungkook and he immediately goes to you. Noticing your non-movement, he uses the edges of his hoodie to wipe the tears that have begun flowing from your eyes. He stills for a moment but seeing how you haven’t pushed him away, he continues. 

You look up at him with watery eyes and quivering lips. Somehow you should be embarrassed but something about Jungkook having seen the worst of you and being nothing but a huge help these past few weeks, you feel safe. No judgment whatsoever, just an air of understanding and care.

“Why are you telling me this?” You ask, and Jungkook feels weak at how you look. He didn’t mean to make you sad but all he wants to do now is hug you until you feel better.

“Because you’ve been so worried and so hard on yourself, as if it’s only your burden to carry.”

You try to object but he cuts you. “Jimin’s an adult. He’s crying and drinking and sulking but that’s normal. He’ll be fine and get himself together. I know that. Even he knows that. You know why? Because it’s what he’s seen you do.” Jungkook wipes another stray tear.

“Whether it’s a breakup or a work thing, he’s seen you take hits but never back down, never let anybody walk all over you, never let them take away the best parts of you. He’s struggled before, too, but he always got back up.”

“He’s good and strong that way,” you reply softly.

“Like I said, he has a good role model,” he smiles, nudging your shoulder. 

It’s meant to be playful but it’s comforting for you, and you’re leaning on his shoulder before you know it, ignoring the way he briefly stills at your action. 

“You’re a good person, Kook. We’re lucky to have you.”

You’re so close to him and he can feel the heat radiate from you. It’s too quiet that he’s afraid you’d hear the thrumming of his heart, from your words and the affection behind your still head on his shoulder. The situation calls for it, he thinks, so he lays his hand on your back and rubs circles on it.

He’ll chalk it up to liquid courage again if you ask, but you don’t. Instead you snuggle closer, chasing his warmth. He swears he could pass out with just this, but he tortures himself more by holding you even closer and he swears, even with his thick hoodie, he could feel your smile.

**

Over a month since the gutter incident - as you like to call it - you, Jimin, and Jungkook have found a pattern of cohabitation, and yes, that includes Jungkook, seeing as how he’s become a staple in your household and your life. 

At some point, Jimin had sulked less and would spend his time watching dance videos to remind himself of the feeling, even if it was just virtual. He’d even expanded his choice of employment by checking job openings as a fitness instructor and a ballet teacher for children. 

He’d also done his regular foot exercise once the pain became bearable. Still unemployed and heartbroken though, he’s been shameless in making your place his own home, with most of his belongings now removed from their boxes, and inviting Jungkook over any time, any day. Not that you minded though, since he’s been nothing but a literal angel.

Living in a studio on his own, Jungkook usually has ramen or street food as dinner, which is why Jimin used to invite him over his shared apartment with Taehyung so that Jungkook could at least have home cooked meals every once in a while. 

It’s why he’s often over your place on weeknights he doesn’t have a shift at the tattoo parlor. That and because Jimin still wants him over to play video games. Jungkook brings food over or pays for delivery though, and you welcome the initiative. 

On weekends, you’re all busy doing your own thing in the living room together, which carries over to movie nights. The young ones pass up on their friends’ invites to a party while you, well, your friends would rather spend their weeknights with their partners instead. So your night of basking in your singleness now means doing so with your brat of a brother and his dependable best friend.

It’s a Saturday afternoon when you get home from doing errands and you find both men in your living room, with Jimin reading a book on some dancer’s biography and Jungkook busy on his laptop. Your brother’s face pops on the screen and you decide it’s not a personal matter so you plop next to Jungkook on the floor and softly rest your chin on his shoulder, something you’ve maybe done once or twice before.

“What you up to?” You ask, an impressed look on your face at the snippets of Jimin dancing, some of which you’ve never seen before. 

“I’m working on his application video,” he says, pointing to your brother. “Since he’s not able to dance when he tries for jobs, he thinks sending them a video to show his skills will help.”

“Oh, like a visual CV of some sort?”

“Yes!” Jimin states. “Want them to know what they’re missing out on, and that’s a lot.”

You roll your eyes but mentally agree; your brother is the most talented person you know. 

“Kookie’s been kind enough to work on it for me although he’s been on it for hours,” he continues, a playful smile on his face.

“Give him a break, Chim. He’s done so much for you already,” you say, getting your own laptop and setting it up on the table.

“Nah, it’s the least I can do. He’s helped me so much, ___.”

“He fought off your bullies 15 years ago…” You cock an eyebrow.

Jungkook chuckles. “Yes. And more. Helped me with school work, my confidence, my social skills…”

“Gave him tips to woo girls because he was too shy to ask them on dates,” Jimin adds.

“Hmm,” you mumble. “What you gotta be shy for? Just flash them your smile or show them your toned arms, they’ll probably jump on you right there,” you say nonchalantly, unaware of the way Jungkook’s heart stills at your comment.

“He doesn’t want them to jump on him, ___. He wants them to actually like him, or love, whatever. He’s a romantic, you know,” Jimin teases. “Would travel to the ends of the earth or fight to the death for the woman he loves, whoever she is,” he says matter-of-factly, unaware of the way Jungkook’s breath hitches because if Jimin only knew.

“Aww, Kook. That’s cute,” is all you say, smile genuine though, he wishes he could see it everyday. But cute, really? That’s it?

He chooses not to dwell on it and instead asks you what you’re up to, to which you respond that it’s a presentation you have to work on. You’re frustrated at your lack of design eye and it looks so bare; you want it to look professional but still eye-catching.

“Maybe I can help!” Jungkook states.

But of course, you think. You’ve been accommodating an actual graphic designer in your home, surely it’s fair that he help you out, right?

“Yes please, Kook. I need to blow these people away with my smarts and my non-existent creativity,” you laugh. 

Jungkook sets aside his laptop, adoringly quick to prioritize helping you, and works on your presentation. He knows just the right color and font combo, even helping out on which details to include, what visuals to add, and how to make it exactly how you want. 

You’re amused at how easily he works on it. He's meticulous, working on the size of the texts and the angles of the patterns. Jimin chides him for his perfectionism but unbeknownst to both of you, Jungkook’s laser focus is a means of distraction with how physically close you’ve been to him the past hour, eyes flicking from him to the screen.

He wants this to last but also can’t wait for it to be over because of how nervous he is, especially with your constant praises for something really basic, but which he finds so charming all the same. 

Pretty soon he finishes and returns your laptop to you and retrieves his, quick to get back to work and focus on something else, which still proves futile once you remove your sweater to reveal a camisole underneath, and tie your hair on a high bun, thus exposing more of your shoulders and neck. 

He shakes off the tingles he feels, pretends to be completely unbothered by his attraction towards you that seems to intensify day-by-day. He looks forward to seeing you, and when he doesn’t, he yearns to. He’d been used to admiring you from afar but these past weeks showed that he has all the reasons to admire you even up close. 

You’re just as brilliant, feisty, and funny; sassy too like Jimin but in a captivating way, yet so kind-hearted just the same. 

The three of you settle in a comfortable silence, each busy with your own task at hand. With your knees touching Jungkook’s, your questions on any additions you make on the presentation, and him asking for your approval on the video (which he seeks, oddly enough from you and not from Jimin), your eventual quick agreement on dinner and your teamwork in preparing it, it all feels so familiar, like it’s home.

**

The next evening, you find yourself sandwiched between Jungkook to your right and Jimin to your left, who moved from his center seat to lie down, with half of his tiny body settled comfortably on top of you and Jungkook. Your brother insisted on watching “How to Be Single” tonight, like a slap to all your faces.

It’s during one of the scenes with the protagonist’s ex when Jimin randomly asks, “___, do you regret breaking up with Namjoon?”

It may seem like a question out of left field, but with everything that’s happened, Jimin has been quite reflective lately, particularly about love. He’s had his fair share of partners but unlike you, is more a feeler than a thinker; gets out of relationships as fast as he gets into them; takes it one day at a time whereas you always have to consider the future. 

You don’t need to ponder on the question; you’ve gone through this multiple times with your best friends but never really with your brother. 

“Sometimes. But there was too much on the line and it was unfair to both of us if we carried on.” You sigh, recalling the moment you both decided it wouldn’t work. “It was something we had to do but doesn’t mean it hurt any less.”

Jimin hums, thinking back to the days he’d barge in your apartment and ask for leftovers when really, he just wanted to be near you so you had someone to cry to, just in case. That was over 2 years ago and it took you a year to finally say that you were over the relationship. He used to note your choice of words - “I’m over us,” never “I’m over him.” 

Next to you, Jungkook is picking on his nails, unsure if he should be part of the conversation. He’d heard about the break up since you had common friends. It was quite the shock, knowing how you and Namjoon were. 

You pick up this nervous habit, aware that he might not know what really happened. It wasn’t a secret but there was more to the story. 

“We just wanted different things,” you say then turning to both of them, “so you two better make sure you’re on the same page with the person you date, talk about what lies ahead, what you want, what you’re willing to compromise and what you aren’t.”

“That’s good advice, yeah Kookie?” Jimin says. 

“Why you focusing on me?” Jungkook asks. 

“You’re the one focused on the dating, not the settling. You avoid those conversations.”

“You don’t want to settle?” You ask, now curious. You’ve seen him with girlfriends but thinking back now, his relationships never really lasted.

“It’s not that,” he glares at Jimin. “I’m more of a live-in-the-moment kind of guy. Thinking about the future is great, I mean, any mature individual does that, it’s just…” 

He heaves out a sigh, hoping he’s not shooting himself in the foot with his statement. “What good is the future if you don’t take care of what you have right now? Isn’t the present more important because it’s what’s assured? The future is literally dependent on that, so the now is what I want to focus on.” 

He rests his head on the couch, nervous of your reaction. He knows you’re a planner, needs to see things far ahead to know what to do. 

There’s no one way to go about life, he acknowledges that. He just doesn’t want you to think he’s not a serious guy. With his developing feelings for you, not seeing him as a potential partner is literally the worst thing that could happen.

Jimin continues with the movie he paused but in your mind, all you could think about was what Jungkook said. If you and Namjoon hadn’t obsessed about the future, would things have been different? Would you still be together? 

The sinking feeling comes at the realization that maybe they still wouldn’t. What if your ‘present’ with him then wasn’t good enough in the first place? That the “could be” was more exciting than the “what is”? Suddenly there’s clarity, you just don’t know if it’s the good kind. 

Still, it doesn’t keep you from sinking further down the couch until you’re leaning on Jungkook’s shoulder. And like the few times that you have, there’s a comforting feeling in the act. 

“You must’ve made your ex-girlfriends really happy, huh Kook?” You ask, head shuffling near his upper arm. “Focusing on the present and the moments and all that.” 

You wish it was something you did, but Namjoon was just like you. 

“I guess you could say that,” he answers shyly. 

“But that was just it though, right Kook?” Jimin says. “Made them happy but not enough to fall in love.”

This prompts you to look at him, wide eyes full of questions. “How come?”

He turns to you and if he tried enough, Jimin right behind you would blur and there’s just you, overhead light illuminating the best parts of your face which is, well, everything. You’re absolutely breathtaking. 

And at your question - how come he never fell in love - comes his own realization. For all of his talk of living in the moment, tucked in the corner of his mind is the thought of the future he’s only ever dreamed about, the one that he’s always wanted, well, with you. 

“I - I actually don’t know.”

**

Adopting your brother, and by extension Jungkook, isn’t as bad as you expected. Sure, Jimin is still a diva and annoys you just because he wants to, but he makes you laugh more, compliments your cooking more, and encourages you to go out and have fun. Most times you do, but if you’re being honest, you’ve been enjoying time spent with him and Jungkook more.

Your movie and PS4 nights are chaotic and only egos are harmed. You and Jungkook help Jimin with job hunting, monitor his practice dancing, and watch dance videos with him. Two months since the gutter incident, you’ve gone to the park, the beach, and the river, perfected making choco-walnut cookies, and built fairy houses. 

Your days are more tiring yet satisfying, as if your apartment actually feels like a sanctuary, save for Jimin’s provocation leading to your bickering, but even that has become a welcome addition in your daily life as well.

Jungkook though is altogether a different story. You two have gone grocery shopping together more than once, had spent some mornings on a run, and some weeknights he even picks you up from work then you both grab some of Jimin’s favorite food for dinner. Those are on top of the many nights you’ve spent drinking whatever in the living room, bidding him goodnight either out the door or on your couch. You’re not exactly sure what to make of the giddiness but you shut down whatever unusual feeling there is before they start to mean anything more.

**

It started with a missed deadline, then an oversight of a risk, then your workmate Chul getting the last laugh. Sometimes, no matter how good you think things are going, all it takes is an extremely bad week, made up of extremely bad moments, to make you doubt yourself. You think some more, then you end up doubting everything else.

Am I good enough for this job? Can I really make a career here? Is this what I really want? Is this going to make me happy? Why the fuck am I still single? It’s the sudden feeling of uncertainty that overwhelms you, makes you second-guess, and suddenly you’re not as stable and secure as you thought you were. 

It’s this feeling that you carry over the day after at your friend Jin’s and his wife’s baby shower. Between their growing family, Yoongi’s hit-making record label, Hoseok’s renewed contract as a travel show host, Yuri’s PhD, and Na-eun’s engagement to her college boyfriend, you feel so… lost. Like you’re just getting by, just letting time pass until there’s something big and meaningful to look forward to again, whatever that is. 

Of course your friends would never make you feel any less; that’s really on you, which is probably worse.

The party is on full swing; gifts have been given and time has come for full-on socializing where you all get to talk about how great your individual lives are. Except for you. And maybe Eun-ha on the corner who doesn’t seem to be happy being here, but that’s not your problem. 

Somewhere near the bar is Jungkook, beer in hand and clearly enjoying himself. He’s a staple in events like this and he fits right in with everyone else - self-assured, content, in control, and may be on his way to a date, seeing as how that pretty girl hasn’t left his side all afternoon. Not that you were monitoring, though. 

For once, you’re actually hoping Jimin was here so you can whine together, but the group he used to choreograph for invited him to their concert, so there’s that. 

You’re on your third glass of champagne when you head inside Jin’s enormous house, away from the laughter and obvious put-together lives of your friends, when you see him, the man who was once your embodiment of stability, of a “good and secure life,” as your parents had said. 

He sees you, flashes his dimple-bearing smile, and walks towards you, looking extremely good in a white polo and denim jacket, brown hair slicked back. 

“___!” He greets, his arms immediately engulfing you in a tight hug, providing you the physical warmth that you haven’t felt in a while. You sigh into him, your head on his firm chest, his now sturdier frame but a reminder of the time that's passed.

You linger, prompting him to gently stroke your back like he used to after a long day at work. 

“You needed this, huh?” He observes, voice low and comforting. 

You release yourself from his hold and look up at him, his sweet smile a contrast to his commanding presence. 

“Unfortunately,” you sigh.

“Boss still not giving you due credit? Colleagues still not making it any easier? Stress still at an all-time high?” He asks, and it’s either he still reads you so well or your problems - or you - haven’t changed one bit. 

“You’re just not your usual energetic self,” he continues. “I mean, I haven’t seen your genuine smile since you arrived.”

He’s been watching you? Somehow that sends heat to your cheeks and quickens your heartbeat. 

“Just tired, is all. Plus, Jimin’s been living at home after a little accident,” you finally respond.

His face makes this charming worried expression. “House already a makeshift wrestling ring?” He laughs.

“You’d be surprised at how little damage there is in my apartment. Safe to say we’ve grown up,” you say, wide smile finally adorning your face, which he returns. You haven’t felt this light the whole week. 

“It’s nice to see you again, Joonie.”

**

You and Namjoon find a spot in the large living room, with the 2-seater couch being the only one available, the physical closeness making it difficult not to be mesmerized by his gorgeous face. His laugh is still the same, the feel of his hand under yours is still the same; the attention he gives, his thoughtful and wise words, and ability to make you feel cared for haven’t changed. 

You’re smiling more, eyes sparkling for sure, and you can’t help the way your body reacts the way it does - knees chasing his, hand tucking your hair behind your ear, voice going a key higher.

He’s still the same confident and self-assured man that you fell in love with, that you once saw a life with. It’s almost intoxicating, the way he speaks, sees the world, sees himself. You could easily fall into this again, into the ideal, the safe and secure, the expected, the could be. You think of the reasons why it didn’t work out, of what you chose when you decided to call it quits. His phone rings. He excuses himself but you still hear him. And you’re reminded why.

“I’m sure the gown looks beautiful, love. I’ll leave the party soon and meet you and our parents at the wedding planners’ office. See you in a bit.”

Your heart should be breaking but it’s just your pride that does. 

“I’m sorry, it was my uh—“ he says, unsure.

“Your fiancé,” you smile, as if reminding him.

“Yeah it’s… it’s pretty recent and we uh… we’re planning to have it in 3 months,” he explains, eyes turning sullen, lips curling into an apologetic smile.

“Congratulations, Namjoon. I’m so glad you’re happy,” you say, hoping he picks up the sincerity in your voice. 

He sits across from you again, hand on top of yours, his smile hopeful, and for the first time, you see him struggle with what to say. So you don’t give him a chance to.

“What are you still doing here?” You playfully nudge him. “You have somewhere else to be.”

“You’ll be okay?” 

“Of course. Don’t worry about me.”

He lingers this time. Maybe in another life you would’ve worked out, you would’ve loved each other better, you would’ve fought for each other. But not in this. 

He leans forward and places a soft kiss on your forehead and you shut your eyes, absorbing all the words he wishes he could say. I’m sorry. I will always care about you. I hope you find your happiness, too. 

Your eyes follow him as he walks out the door, out to the woman who could definitely give him what you couldn’t. From across the room, a pair of eyes follows your movement too, the way it has since you entered the party four hours ago. 

**

Whatever worry you initially had about getting drunk at your friend’s baby shower is out the window. You don’t mind anymore, not with your 5th glass of champagne and your 3 shots of vodka because of course, it’s Jin. You laugh along with your friends although you’re too dazed to process what they’re saying. 

Your jaw is sore from laughing over things you don’t understand so you decide to head inside, maybe call it a night and take the drinking back to your place; at least you’d be in your pjs and not in a tight dress and heels.

You’re pulling open a door that just won’t budge and you exert what little energy you have, causing you to trip on yourself only to be held steady by strong hands on your waist.

“That’s a sliding door, ___,” the familiar voice says, tone low but still teasing. 

You turn around and meet chocolate eyes looking down at you and you stare back even in your embarrassment.

“I… I think I’m drunk,” you stutter. 

You’re met with laughter. “No shit, ___. Think I didn’t notice that?”

“I…” You say, looking down at the hands still holding onto you. 

He quickly removes them, worry painting his face and you wave him off before he could apologize.

“Let’s go to a bar, Jungkook.”

**

You reasoned your decreased alcohol tolerance to your friends, which they didn’t buy but waved you off without much fanfare. They probably sensed you were out of it for a while. Or probably saw the exchange with Namjoon, who knows. 

But you’re now at a bar eating chicken wings and fries like you’re about to run out of food, the guy next to you chuckling and reminding you to breathe every once in a while. 

You finish your meal quickly and pout when you realize he’s barely touched his food. 

“You’re not eating,” you state the obvious.

“Sorry, too entertained,” he laughs, the child-like sound now so familiar, you’d recognize it anywhere.

He’s just smiling at you and you feel so small under his gaze. He saw you talking with Namjoon, taking shots, and almost tripping earlier. He’s probably wondering who this person is; definitely not the one who’s been semi-housing him the past few months.

You bury your face in your hands. “I’m so embarrassed,” you cry out.

“Hey now,” he says, hands gently removing yours from your face. He stops the one tear before it falls off.

“God, how many times have I cried in front of you, Kook? This is humiliating.”

“No one’s counting though,” he states. “It’s your drinks I’m counting and I’m thinking maybe you’ve had enough.”

You nod and he orders a can of soda and a glass of water. With light chatter and glasses clinking in the background, you two fall in comfortable silence. He’s quietly picking on his food, eyes roaming the bar while yours flit from him to the space between you, somehow wishing it isn’t as wide as it is right now. 

“I had a bad week,” you finally say. He nods.

“My friends are all accomplishing so many things, achieving their dreams and I’ve been stuck in the same company for 5 years.” 

He nods again.

“I’m a 28 year-old who got drunk at a baby shower and flirted with her ex only to find out he’s engaged.” 

Jungkook pretends not to be affected at the confirmation that you were indeed flirting with Namjoon but he nods just the same.

“And?” He asks.

“And? I’m in a bar with you, and I cried, and I’m acting like a baby because I had a terrible week and ended up doubting everything and now think I can’t get my life together. I mean, between my brother I can’t properly help, a job I can’t seem to stand out in no matter how hard I try…” You release a deep breath. “And a relationship I couldn’t keep because I wasn’t enough and I…”

“Hey, don’t say that,” he says angrily. “You’re none of those things.”

“I wasn’t sure if I wanted to have kids. And Namjoon always wanted to be a father,” you blurt, the words not stinging as they used to.

This stuns Jungkook. Jimin had always mentioned it was a mutual breakup but never said anything more. Jungkook didn’t think it was because of this. 

“I thought I wanted a family, too. It was so easy to fall into the idea of that kind of life with him because he was the perfect person to have it with. But then one day I just started doubting it,” you sigh, recalling how hard you used to be on yourself for suddenly wanting something different.

“Sometimes I think, what if I gave myself more time, what if eventually I’d be sure?” You take a long breath. “But the uncertainty was too much and it wasn’t fair to him,” you huff. There was no blame game; you both knew it wasn’t anyone’s fault.

“Quite the dealbreaker, huh?” Jungkook wonders.

“Yeah but looking back, the other issues were just bubbling under the surface. The future was so enticing and we talked about it all the time, it seemed much more important than well, us,” you explain. 

“It was Jimin who made me realize that I hung onto Namjoon for the relationship, the potential, what it meant. He was the epitome of stability and I was the same for him but at some point, even that wasn’t enough.”

“So, earlier. Why did you, uhm,” he starts, hoping it doesn’t come out wrong.

“Flirt with him?”

Jungkook nods.

“Being with him used to make me feel like I had it together, you know? Like I had it figured out because he did and it was silly but I don’t know, maybe I wanted to trick myself into thinking that by being close to him in any way, I had it together.”

“You don’t need to have it together all the time. You just need to have it together enough.” His whole body turns to you.

“You had one bad week, we all do. But it’s over now, isn’t it? Your friends doing well in their careers? So are you. You know what not to compromise on, what to stand up for, which battles to fight. I’ve heard enough of your stories to know that there are people at work who respect you, look up to you. The way your friends, your brother, and I look up to you.”

Your lips are quivering, forcing yourself not to cry again tonight. He just always knows what to say. “That’s really sweet, Jungkook.”

“Thanks, but I wasn’t trying to be sweet. I was just being honest. You’re a lot of good things to people, ___. Isn’t that what matters? Being a little off at work and drinking then flirting with an ex don’t make you any less of a person. Okay? You’re allowed to slip up every once in a while.”

You let this sink in.

“Look at you, Jeon Jungkook. When did you get this wise? It’s like I just blinked then you’re all of a sudden so grown up.” You tease to keep yourself from breaking down.

“Like I told you, much of what I know, I got from Jimin. And what he knows, he got from you. Maybe try listening to yourself, yeah?” He smirks.

You nod, smile creeping on your face the same way all the heat is rushing to your cheeks. You feel comfortable like this, being vulnerable and sad and doubtful but he’s holding you close without touching you, making you feel safe with just his presence. In the now noisy bar, your bodies angling towards each other, and with his tender smile, you feel a type of intimacy you’ve never felt before. It’s reassuring yet enticing at the same time. And this scares you.

You both stay for another hour until you decide it’s time to head home. Jungkook had taken a cab, too in anticipation of drinking so you both decided to walk back to your apartment, knowing the couple of blocks would be enough to sober you up.

The streets are still alive with the nightlife just starting but the noise starts to tone down once you reach your neighborhood. The long walk is soothing, as Jungkook leaves you to your thoughts, except for the times he has to steady you because, well, your vodka shots are still in your system and a walk isn’t enough to flush them down. Still, you’re calm, a feeling of acceptance overtaking you.

“Thanks for tonight, Jungkook. I hope I didn’t ruin any potential date or anything just because I couldn’t get the door open,” you laugh. 

He raises an eyebrow.

“That, uh, girl seemed really into you,” you stammer. 

He chuckles, hands in his pockets and cheeks flushed at the implication of your observation. 

“That wasn't much, we were just chatting.” He turns to you. “I could see your scrunched eyebrows from where I was and thought you needed help,” he shrugs.

You sigh. He was always helpful, ever since he was a kid. 

“You know, you were always the good guy. Jimin’s other friends were so rowdy and immature. Yugyeom was always sprawled on the couch with his feet up like he owned the place; Sejun was always finishing our ice cream, and Sunghoon was such a flirt.” 

Jungkook laughs, recalling the times you were scolding all of them for messing up the house and being so annoyingly noisy and eating your snacks.

“You were always the well-behaved and mature one. Like, you barely engaged in their pranks and stupid boy talk. You’d rather watch it all unfold until it was too much and you’d help me in the kitchen always. I remember your glazed potatoes. God, that was so hilarious.”

“That was embarrassing.”

“It was funny! And adorable. You were always so kind.”

“Thanks but uh, I wasn’t trying to be kind. Well, sort of. I wanted to impress you. And I—” He doesn’t know where this is coming from but it’s like word vomit, especially now that you’ve started to walk more slowly and are looking at him. 

“It was an opportunity to be near you. Kinda wanted a lot of that back then. Even now, actually.”

You gulp, unsure of what to feel or how to react. You thought you were imagining his lingering looks, or how his eyes shone a tad brighter and his smile was a bit wider when you were around. But he’s not saying what he’s saying, right?

“I, uh. Well, maybe you look up to me like an older—“

“Don’t say sister because I never saw you as one,” he interrupts you, frustration laced in his voice as if the word is venom. “Not when I was a teenager, not in the years after, and especially not now.”

You hesitantly turn to him, his nervous face a contrast to the offended tone of his voice just seconds ago. He nibbles on his lips, a mannerism you noticed when he was a teenager who always seemed shy around you and would only relax after you talked to him. 

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles. I didn’t mean to sound angry. I just—“ 

“That was your angry tone?” You tease, your laugh affirming him that you’re not upset one bit, just… unsure. You’re flattered, definitely; he is a very attractive man. Still your brother’s best friend, though.

This eases him, but prompts him to test the waters.

“I’m a gentle boy, what can I say? Most times, at least,” he says, and you don’t miss the playful tone of this voice, his eyes peering down at you, making your breath hitch and your hands clammy.

You wrap yourself with your arms - really to wipe the sweat off because you’re feeling nervous - but Jungkook takes this differently, as anyone would, and immediately unzips his jacket and puts it on you.

You slow on your tracks and you feel even warmer. He follows your pace but urges you to speed up once he feels a droplet on his cheek. You’re glad you opted to wear low heels today, tiring your calves only a little but allowing you to walk fast enough until you’re on the steps of your apartment in time to miss the sudden downpour.

Well, Jungkook doesn’t because as he enters, a portion of his torso is wet, his black shirt sticking on his skin to tease you of his toned abs that you definitely will be thinking about tonight. Between that, his damp hair, and soaked veiny arm, you curse your mind for the images it’s currently making up. 

All he did was indirectly tell you he has a crush on you, right? Or did he? He doesn’t seem as bothered as you expected him to be if that was the case so maybe you misinterpreted? 

You can’t stand this wet version of him so you say you’ll get him a towel but are too flustered so you hit the wall as you turn towards the bathroom, eliciting a loud “ow!” 

“You okay?” He asks worriedly.

“Yeah, still drunk I guess,” you lie. He smirks and probably knows you’re lying. 

“I’ll take care of myself, don’t worry. Go wash up and get ready for bed.” 

“Are you ordering me around?” You ask, trying your best to reestablish yourself as the one in authority because you can’t take how this man is making you feel nervous and unsettled and not in control. 

“Do you want me to?” He simpers, flustering you even more. What is with him? 

You roll your eyes and trudge to your bathroom. You’re technically sober but with Jungkook’s looks, the sudden flirty tone of his voice, and his innuendos, you might as well be drunk again. 

You open the door and seconds later he’s by your bedroom, a glass of water in one hand and apple juice in the other. The bottle of aspirin is tucked under his arm by his rib and he asks you to get it and you think he's evil for testing you but you take it, acting unbothered. He follows you to your room and you don’t stop him. 

Glasses now on your bedside, you tuck yourself in. “Thank you, Jungkook.”

“For what?”

“For staying with me? Listening to me?” You test the waters, too. “For caring for me?” And his smugness disappears. Before you is a man, all strong and tough yet his smile is the tiniest, softest you’ve ever seen on him, and even from where you are, you could see the tips of his ears turn red. 

“I really appreciate everything,” you conclude, and you mean it.

He gathers himself before he looks you in the eyes. “Don’t worry about it. Anything you need, just tell me.” You nod. 

“Sleep well, ___.”

**

You don’t sleep well. In fact, even with the rain pouring outside, you feel so hot, you end up shedding your shorts. 

The closeness with Jungkook has been gradual and if anything, it’s been comfortable. You convince yourself what he has is probably just a little crush; convincing your heart to still is a different story. 

Jungkook, on the other hand, can’t stop smiling. He was testing the waters tonight, gauging how you would react to his flirtation and teasing. It was partly the alcohol but then you’d gone all shy and flustered; he thought it was worth a shot.

He was half expecting you to scold him like you used to do with Sunghoon, or berate him like those guys at work but you did neither. You don’t seem to hate him, even with his indirect confession to you, and that’s really better than what he’d hoped. 

**

You wake up dissatisfied with your sleep and take your hangover necessities; dealing with Jungkook last night did add to your inebriation. 

You head out to the kitchen to prepare some beef bone soup to help with the headache, hands trying to remove the sleep from your eyes. You move like you’re on autopilot like most post-night out mornings and then you hear someone gasp.

“Shit, woman. Learn your manners and put some clothes on,” Jimin shouts. 

It wouldn’t have been bothersome had Jungkook not been here but of course, he is. Next to your brother, eyes wide and definitely trying not to look at your bare legs. It dawns on you that you indeed removed your shorts because of that very man and your face contorts in shock and embarrassment.

“Fuck. Jimin! Grab me my shorts on my bed, please!!!” You cry out and stand behind the counter.

He’s too scandalized to complain so he rushes to your room and you feel so hot all over. You avoid Jungkook’s face at all costs, which apparently is what he’s also doing.

Jimin throws your shorts on your face. “Get yourself together, jeez,” he scowls.

“You’re the one invading my space, okay, both of you,” you bite back. 

Jimin’s making faces like he always does when you scold him and Jungkook sits next to him, chuckling. 

“I shouldn’t have welcomed you, you brats. I’m used to walking around my apartment in my underwear so this is a lifestyle change.”

“Oh god, shut it. Nobody wants to imagine you without clothes on,” he cringes.

For some reason, your eyes find Jungkook, who visibly gulps. You glare at both men, and Jimin responds with an evil smile.

You return to what you were meant to do and start getting ingredients. Jungkook starts to feel bad and approaches you, mumbles to Jimin that he’ll just help. 

Jungkook appears next to you. “Did you mean that?”

You sigh. “I didn’t. Of course you two are welcome here.”

“I was referring to the other one,” he says with a low voice.

Your eyes widen and you smack his arm. “What is wrong with you? Stop teasing,” you loud-whisper, but he doesn’t miss the way you try to hide your laugh.

“You’re cute when you’re flustered,” he smirks, and you get flustered even more. 

You’re a 28-year old getting scandalized over playful comments by this ridiculously good-looking man and you feel so pathetic but you can’t deny that it’s exciting you. It’s been a while since you’ve had someone flirt with you and pay attention to you like this, make you all giddy and entranced as if you’re an adolescent getting her first love letter or being told by her crush that she’s pretty.

There’s playfulness there but affection, too. You see it in the way he stops the teasing and smiles to himself, then proceeds to help you cook, looks at you with fondness while you eat, then forces Jimin to clean up with him. 

This continues for the next few weeks. His lingering looks on you are more flirty now and he smirks when you look away and try to hide your flushed face. His tone of voice when Jimin is nearby is lower, as if he’s telling you a secret. 

He no longer stiffens when Jimin moves to the corner of the couch and kicks you closer to Jungkook so that your brother can make space for himself. In fact, it’s the opposite now, with Jungkook finding ways to be near you - when the three of you are on a grocery run, when you’re all on the couch for movie night, and especially when Jimin opts to sit on the floor - shuffling closer, knees grazing each other’s.

You’ve kept your head to yourself, fighting the urge to rest it on his shoulder and he definitely noticed this, so he’s started to edge you, in a way. The once lingering finger touches when he hands you something are no more, so are the “accidental” elbow brushes. 

He stands close to you just enough for you to feel the heat off him but not enough to feel him. His arm over your chair leaves his hand thisclose to your shoulder and you swear you can feel the sensation even then. 

You’d stopped smacking him after this one time he flexed his bicep and you started to imagine how good those arms must look.

You found out shortly after when he and Jimin convinced you to join them in the gym because Jungkook had a voucher to a free yoga class since a client of his is a teacher; safe to say she wasn’t happy when he popped in the studio to say you were taking his slot. Jungkook and Jimin did a workout, your brother now in a better condition.

After the session, they made you wait as they finished and Jungkook really had to remove his red jacket to reveal his stupidly gorgeous toned and tattooed arms in a black fit sleeveless top. He caught you ogling and the devil crossed his arms to fucking flex and smirk when the conversation he was having with one of the trainers didn’t even seem that amusing. 

Of course, his outfit just sent your mind into another dimension with the images of what could be underneath that black top and again, you find out one morning exactly how glorious it is. 

It’s one of those post-bar night mornings - you’ve allowed Jimin to enjoy the nightlife again as long as he had chaperones, which essentially were you and Jungkook. You’d woken up and stopped by the hallway at the sound of someone gasping and you look up from the hallway, slack jawed as you watch Jungkook pull his shirt off from the back of his neck with one hand, coffee-stained clothing lying on the counter.

His black sweatpants are hanging low on his hips and does he not have any boxers on?? His tiny waist spreads out to his muscular back, and when he turns, his sculpted chest almost blinds you; pecs just the right perk and torso so taut but not intimidating at all. It’s... beautiful. It looks so smooth and captivating; your eyes can’t help but trail down south and is that black ink that’s peeking underneath the waistband? You gulp at the thought of Jungkook having a hip tattoo because what the fuck? Is he trying to kill you? And his…

“Do you have a shirt I can borrow?” He asks, and you jerk from where you’re standing. 

Your eyes turn to the appropriate body part they should be focused on and he’s smiling like he’s an angel, as if he literally didn’t just try to murder you with his exquisite bare body. 

His smile is so sweet and you know he’s playing you because he totally caught you drooling at the sight of him. Your throat is dry and suddenly you can’t speak, which really isn’t surprising by now because he’s also taken away your ability to form coherent sentences. 

“I, uhm. I’ll get one of Jimin’s.” 

“I don’t fit in his clothes. Don’t you have large ones?”

He knows you do, and you nod, unclench the thighs you didn’t even realize had betrayed you, and retrieve one of your oversized Disney t-shirts and approach him. You stay at a safe distance because any closer you might fall into temptation and you throw him the shirt. 

He chuckles and turns to his side to slowly put it on because of course there’s a fucking dent down there that he wants to show off.

You turn and trip on your foot because god knows how dizzy you feel from the show he just put on.

“Careful,” he calls out and even with your back turned, you just know he’s smirking.

He beats you to the bathroom shortly after and he took his time. 

You decide to wait with your brother who’d been so ecstatic over an audition he landed for a fairly new and small entertainment company as a choreographer for a hip-hop group. 

They told him his contemporary dance background and versatility are just what they need and you soften at his joyful face; he says he feels like a new person again. You listen to him excitedly and give encouragement.

You perk at the sound of the bathroom door opening because you really need to clean the wetness down there and you trudge out of the room so you could finally shower, slightly upset at Jungkook’s clothed form. 

You groan. “Ugh that was so long,” you mindlessly say.

“Oh it is.” His smirk is back and you are pissed. You bang the door and pull your hair out of frustration. 

He doesn’t even need to touch you for you to be a whimpering mess. He knows it. And you’re in trouble.

**

Jungkook is busy for the next two weeks, having shared that he has a couple of on-site art installations outside of the city and a tattoo piece that will need more than one 5-hour shift. You tried not to seem affected when Jimin teased him since it was going to be on a woman’s breast this time. 

“This the same one who had her vagina tattooed? The one who asked you out after?” Jimin asked.

Your eyes were burning your phone screen because you absolutely cannot be affected. 

“Yeah,” Jungkook laughed. “That was fun.”

Jin calling you was your saving grace and you spent the next half hour in your room, talking to him over nursery room ideas because Hoseok couldn’t make up his mind over a neon green or a fuschia pink wall and Yoongi wanted dark grey because “babies can’t even identify colors,” which is true but Jin needed you as the one with a more palatable taste.

Jungkook had knocked to say goodbye, which is more than his usual yelling, and you noticed him linger before you heard the steps away from your door. 

**

It was day 5 when you realized why you’d been so grumpy and you hated the moment you did - you miss Jungkook. You’d gotten so used to seeing him every few days - picking you up from work, playing rock-paper-scissors to determine who’ll choose dinner, laughing at his high-pitched child-like laughter, talking to him about work and other things… you even miss his flirting and teasing. 

He’d been such a staple in your life the past months, and not just to referee between you and Jimin. Jungkook, with his listening ear, his heartwarming passion for his work, and ability to soothe and comfort you in the silence, just feels so stable. And not in the way you used to think. He’s so laid-back and just there, always dependable, like you’re sure whatever it is you’re feeling, he’ll know what to do and say. 

Jimin used to say that Jungkook was always the person he needed for anything and now you understand why. He emits a certain calmness, joy, and consistency, like whether you’re flying or drowning, he’s the pillar grounding you or keeping you afloat. 

You’re always tempted to send him a message but you two don’t text and it’d be weird to just start now, although it doesn’t help that he doesn’t text you, too. You shrug it off and convince yourself that it really might just be a silly crush, one he acts on when he’s around you but probably forgets when he isn’t. Or maybe he went out with that girl, who knows?

On the day that he arrives, he's set to drive Jimin to the audition and watch him, too, while you’re just happy to be able to do errands and clean the house on your own. 

The doorbell rings and Jimin, whom you’ve reminded to shower so he won’t be late, answers the door and you try not to look intrigued when you hear him rambling about how good Jungkook apparently looks because how else can he look better?

With ash-grey hair, that’s how. You couldn’t help it. You peeked and turned your head before he could turn to look at you.

You’re currently by the kitchen counter, tiptoeing to try to get the cereal box on the top shelf to check if you need to buy another or if it would suffice. Or if it’s even still edible. You’ll be off for a quick grocery run if only you can get this stupid box out.

Then a large hand is touching your lower back and the fresh scent of detergent fills your nose. You stiffen as an arm is raised to easily grab the cereal box you’ve spent the past 5 minutes trying to get and fuck do you miss his touch, his scent that you realize is just as comforting as his soft sweatshirts, and the way you feel a jolt of electricity even at the slightest brush of his body on yours.

He places the box on the counter. “You should’ve asked,” he says, voice low.

“I can do it,” you respond, gaining the courage to look at him and your lips betray you at how they part because he looks so good with his new hair. 

“I know. I just like it when you ask.” He tries to keep his eyes on you but they keep falling to your lips, the one he’d been imagining the feel and taste of. But your eyes lock on his, letting yourself be hypnotized. 

You feel his touch drift away from you and you stop him, as your hand finds his and keeps it on your waist, and it signals him to grip tighter and pull you closer. And you let him. You angle yourself so you’re standing chest to chest, you could almost feel his heart beat just as fast as yours.

“What else?” You indulge yourself because you just wanna know. You've missed him and you can’t reconcile the flirting with his recent silence.

Jungkook bites his lip, knowing it’s his signal to tell you how he feels.

“I like it when you say my name, when you listen to me talk and take me seriously. When you don’t make me feel bad about the things I do, the things I choose.”

His hand that isn’t on your waist glides through your arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake. It settles on your cheek and you hope he doesn’t notice just how hot it is.

“I like it when you pout and when you smile with your eyes,” he continues. “And I like it when you need me because then I know I’m not the only one, because fuck do I need you,” he continues, both hands pulling you closer to him until his breath grazes your mouth. 

“Want you so much,” he mumbles, before he eliminates the distance and you feel his soft lips on yours, moving tenderly, carefully, as if the purpose is to seek validation that you feel the same way, to ask your acceptance of the overwhelming affection he has for you. 

Your lips move gently like his, languid yet electrifying and euphoric and you hold onto him for support, just so you won’t lose yourself even more than you already are.

This now feels surreal. You’re not thinking about anything else - not the before or the after - just the feel of him at this very moment and how it’s making you feel alive, carefree, unbound. And you wonder if all your other kisses had felt this good before. Or maybe just different. 

You and Jungkook keep your steady pace, focusing on the soothing feel of each other’s lips, of the sensation of something sensuous and tender.

The aggressive pull of the bathroom door jolts you awake from a dream it seems, and you’re ducking down and crouching on the floor behind the counter before your brother notices anything amiss. Jungkook’s surprised but holds his laugh at how scared you look, the first time he’d seen you be afraid of your brother.

“Kook, has my sister left for the grocery?” He calls out from his open room, probably dressing as he speaks.

Jungkook looks up to check on Jimin. “Yeah, she just left,” he answers after deciphering your hand gestures from underneath him.

“Ugh, I forgot to tell her to buy my cereal. I think the one on the top shelf isn’t edible anymore.”

Jungkook smirks, thanking the heavens that Jimin didn’t tell you, otherwise Jungkook wouldn’t have had the best kiss of his life. He felt you; you moved with him, you felt him. And he can’t be happier.

He has a chance with you. He really has a chance with you, and even at the risk of being caught, he’d do this with you over and over again.

“Let’s go,” Jimin calls out. “I’ll just text her.”

“I’m sure she knows,” Jungkook smirks then heads out, leaving you with a dazed feeling and a heart that won’t slow its beating. 

**

Your time alone with your thoughts only served to confuse you even more. It felt nice. He felt nice. You’d never really considered Jungkook as anything more than, well, your brother’s best friend, even if he’d been the one you preferred out of all of Jimin’s friends dating back to middle school. 

His well-behaved nature and boyish charms were always endearing to you and even when he grew up, his confidence and compassion just amazed you. But it was always from afar. You think it’s the same with him; his affection may just be a little infatuation borne out of his idea of you growing up. You’ve learned enough that the idea of a person, of a relationship, of a could be isn’t always enough.

Another thing you think about is that Jimin is very protective of his friendships. You know that more than anyone, when you dated Taemin in high school. 

You were both seniors and had gotten close because he was Jimin’s dance captain and mentor, someone whom your brother looked up to and admired. Your relationship ended during your first year of college, with both of you saying things you eventually regretted. Safe to say it was your first heartbreak, one that resulted to Jimin’s as well, as his friendship with your ex was also affected.

You and Jimin barely talked about it, seeing his own disappointment because of the resulting strained relationship with Taemin. You thought that the elder would at least maintain a friendship, but he didn’t. 

The most Jimin said about it was when he told you, eyes downcast but tone quite angry, to “keep off my friends and don’t date any of them, please.” You were home for a break and he stormed out of your room before you could apologize. You realized later on that his heartbreak was worse than yours; you told yourself you don’t want to be the cause of that pained look on his face ever again.

His friends are off-limits, he made it pretty clear. Taemin was a mentor but one Jimin eventually did without. But Jungkook is his best friend, his brother. They’ve looked out for each other for more than half of their lives; you can’t even imagine what would happen if you and Jungkook get together and then fight, or break up. 

You wouldn’t want Jimin to have to give up a friendship that means more to him than anything. Or more accurately, you wouldn’t want to lose Jimin over something that might not mean as much anyway. 

You stick to the latter thought, especially when both men arrive home and Jimin is beaming, his smile something you’d never admit actually makes your heart feel all sorts of fuzziness and pride. He’s so excited and you feel it, too, moreso because he informs you that he got the job.

“They really liked me! They said I can really mentor the group and their team is so creative and passionate…” Jimin goes on, narrating every single thing that happened right as he entered the studio. You’ve never seen him this elated, not even with his previous company that was at the top of their game. 

“And they said I don’t have to work right away! They’ll wait for my doctor’s clearance but I can go to work to observe and get to know them more.”

Your eyes moisten because not long ago, you saw the joy in your brother wither away, his passion deteriorate, and his plans go on a standstill. But now, it’s like he didn’t go through a slump or moments of weakness, like he didn’t go through a depressive mode when he thought he’d lost everything. He’s really a fighter, and you truly look up to him. 

“I wouldn’t have made it if it wasn’t for you two,” Jimin continues, pulling both of you in a three-way hug because of course your brother wouldn’t hug just you.

This prompts Jungkook to wrap his arm around you, hand gripping your waist while yours settles for mere pats on his lower back. He tries not to dwell on this minimal contact, or on the way you purposely avoid his gaze. He tries not to think too much when you actively lean towards your brother more during your dinner out, or how you jerk away when any of Jungkook’s body parts comes in close contact with yours.

He’s thinking maybe you’re not in the mood for his playful antics or maybe, he really pushed too far with the kiss from earlier, and it sends him in an internal panic mode because just as his hope of starting something more with you was blooming, it quickly gets shot down just like that. 

It’s when you pass up on games and drinks in your living room when you get back so you could just stay in your room did Jungkook think that he may really have blown his chance.

**

You try to be subtle in your avoidance of Jungkook but it’s harder than expected, especially since Jimin still invites him over. With the excitement of the new job now steadying, Jimin announces his checklist for getting through a crisis - healed foot, check; new job, check. That’s pretty much it, really. “But I still need you two,” he says.

Jungkook comes over and at the start, you notice how he still tries. He attempts to catch your gaze, goes near you, engages you in conversation, makes jokes, lingers before leaving… only to be met with eyes that don’t seek him, short answers, forced laughter, and cold goodbyes. And you absolutely hate it. 

He’s around yet you miss him even more than when he was away, but you can’t fall into the things that made you feel something for him in the first place. 

Living with Jimin made you appreciate him so much more, and you’re glad you get to be this close with him for the first time, and you don’t want to jeopardize that. 

Jungkook had much to do with the newfound attachment with your brother, yet it’s exactly why you’re hesitant to give Jungkook a chance. Their relationship is sacred, similar to how yours with Jimin is. What you and Jungkook have is a by-product of those, and it’s not the priority. Somehow you think all three can’t coexist; you can’t have it all, really.

Whenever Jungkook makes an effort, Jimin’s plea to keep off his friends rings in your head. You know, too, that Jimin gave his friends an ultimatum - date my sister or keep your dicks, something like that. It was funny when you heard of it, but it’s definitely not a laughing matter now. 

Those words were said years ago yet they still hang above your head. You wish Jungkook would just make it easier for you, but why is it that when he stopped trying did you feel your heart break, as if you’re losing something you never had in the first place?

**

It’s easy to reason you feel sick and tired; you’ve been spending later hours at work so spending more time in your room and asking the boys to make dinner instead seem reasonable. But tonight, Jimin isn’t having it.

“We’re celebrating, stay here,” he says, pulling you to the couch next to him. Jungkook is on his right, his once tendency to stiffen around you back again, and you sadden at the thought because he looks so uncomfortable.

“Celebrating what?” You ask, grabbing the beer being handed to you. 

“I’ve been working for 2 weeks and I haven’t reinjured my foot,” he says, his smile blinding you.

Normally you’d roll your eyes at his shallowness but you just agree and mindlessly sip the beer, eyes veering off in the distance.

“Is it a guy?” Jimin asks out of nowhere and you try not to choke. “You only ever get this sulky when it’s about a guy. Is it someone from work?” Jimin states with furrowed eyebrows. 

“Oh! Is it one of the managers who’s been trying to ask you out but he’s the ex of your close friend?” 

You try to remember when you told him that but it was definitely a months-ago issue. 

“Or did you have an epiphany and realized you actually like Yoongi? Or Hoseok? Or maybe Jin but he’s married?”

“What the hell, Jimin!” You say, smacking his arm. Your eyes flit to Jungkook who’s focused on the TV.

“The first one,” you lie to satisfy your brother. 

“It’s kind of a code, you know? He’s Yuri’s ex and she really loved him and I don’t want to ruin my friendship over something I’m not sure is worth it anyway.” And with that, you see Jungkook’s jaw clench. He knows about Yuri and the manager; they were merely a fling, so he knows you’re lying.

“How do you know it’s not worth it if you haven’t even tried?” Jimin asks, incredulous.

“I don’t know, it’s just… Yuri’s my friend and I don’t wanna mess up a friendship.”

“Seems like you don’t trust your friendship with Yuri enough, then,” Jimin states like it’s a fact. This hits your more than it should. Do you really not trust in your relationship with your own brother? Surely you have a basis to be hesitant, but if it only it were that simple.

Jimin picks up on your silence and asks again. “How are you and the guy like? Do you have moments with him?”

“Lots of them,” you say, your eyes finding Jungkook just on the other side of the couch and he’s never felt farther away. 

“And for the first time it’s like I get to savor them. Whether it’s something sweet that he does, or if we’re just together in silence, or when he’s being flirty,” and you don’t see it but Jungkook catches you smiling at the thought and god does he wish you’re lying about this one unless it’s about him. He wishes it is.

“Sounds like a keeper if he gets you to enjoy moments, don’t you think? For someone like you?” Jimin says, cocking an eyebrow.

“Like me?”

“You think too much, you know? You plan, you analyze, you manage risks… I mean, yeah sure they help I guess but this isn’t a job, ___. There’s no profit to be earned here, no losses,” he points out. 

“The only loss is you missing out on something good because you’re too focused on what could happen, and not what’s actually happening, right now.” He's told you a variation of this before, but somehow this hits differently, and more than it should.

“Did you teach that to Jungkook, too?” You ask, a smile creeping up and you digress because you need anything to stop you from walking to Jungkook and holding him close to you.

“No, he taught me that,” Jimin states. “I know it seems like I teach him a lot - well, all I really told him was to never let anybody dictate what he wants and deserves in life, and I stand by that, but to be clear,” Jimin turns to you, “I learn just as much from him. He’s his own self; nobody tells him what to do.”

It’s all meant to be assuring, comforting even, if only Jimin knew. And if only it were that simple. The tension is suffocating but your brother breathes easy. You love him more than you can ever say and his happiness has meant more to you than you ever imagined. You just wish your own didn’t come at a cost.

**

A few days later, Jungkook is back at your place and you had quite the reflective week and opted to stay in your room. 

Some days you just want to bask in your own thoughts; absorbing yourself in your own emotions helps in figuring out what to do, you’ve realized. You’re still a thinker and a planner - that’s probably never gonna change - but you’re starting to at least let yourself feel and enjoy the now, or something like it. You just wish the person you want to spend your now with hasn’t changed his mind.

It’s almost midnight when you decide to head out, your early dinner long digested and you feel hunger creeping in.

You exit your room and stop in your tracks at the sight of Jungkook in your kitchen, all alone. You definitely weren’t ready for this.

“Oh, I didn’t know you were still here,” and you regret it immediately, not wanting to sound disappointed.

He looks up, alarmed at your presence because he wasn’t expecting this, too.

“Jimin fell asleep on me but don’t worry, I was just about to leave,” he responds, eyes not meeting yours. 

“He’s also gonna be coming over my place now since he’s able. Don’t want you to feel like a prisoner in your own home,” he says, motioning to your room where you’ve been hiding recently. 

“Since you’re avoiding me and all,” he continues, and you don’t miss the hurt look on his face. 

You mentally give yourself a pep talk because you definitely want him to still come around and you’re definitely being stupid. 

“I… I wasn’t avoiding you,” you say, blocking his way by the couch as he’s about to reach for his jacket.

He stops in front of you, ensuring some distance. “Yeah, I guess. I mean, you were just not minding me and making sure you stayed as far away from me as possible.” He’s trying to sound bitter but you’re his weakness and he will always go soft on you because his tender eyes are definitely not a match to his bitter words.

“I just didn’t know what to do. You didn’t exactly say what you felt and—“

“I kissed you, ___,” he says, tone suppressing frustration.

“I told you I needed you, wanted you. And you kissed me back. The way you looked at me that day, the way you held me… it meant more, I could feel it. So I don’t know how you could just act like none of that happened, like it didn’t matter,” he continues.

“Jungkook… you’re my brother’s bestest friend. And he’s very protective of his friends, of you.” 

And it’s ironic, Jungkook thinks, how Jimin is the reason why you two had met, got close; how Jimin’s what got you together but is also who’s keeping you apart.

“He’s also the one who constantly reminds me to go for what I want, to never let anybody tell me what to do,” Jungkook says.

“Yeah but this is different. I don’t want anything to come in between you two, the same way I don’t want anything to come in between him and me.”

“So it’s okay for him to come in between us? You really think he’d be okay with that? That he’d keep the two people he loves the most from being together? From being happy?”

And you hate that he’s right.

“What Jimin is to us is out of our control,” he states. “But that shouldn’t be why we can’t try, right? Because god I’ve wanted you since I was 15 and and I’ve waited too long for this and I’d either fight for us or keep us a secret, I don’t care. Just don’t lie to me, please.”

By now he’s standing in front of you and he could pin you against the armrest if he wanted to but he’s keeping his hands to himself, fists clenched at the control he’s trying to maintain because of his intense feelings for you. He’d make you feel it all too, if you just let him.

You can move away if you wanted; there’s space for it. But you don’t. Jungkook bared everything to you, braving through just to be with you; the least you could do is be honest. So with your own strength, you look up at him. 

“You made me fall for the moments, Jungkook. You made me fall for you, and there were so many things to consider and I—“

Your rear hits the armrest, as you’d reflexively walked back as he started to move towards you, slowly eliminating the distance. His arms, sandwiching you, are propped on the couch to support his spread out frame, his face now level with yours. You’re burning with how he’s looking at you with so much hope and yearning.

“Go on,” he says, voice low, his eyes wandering all over your face and you feel your heat dampen with just his gaze. 

“I didn’t know what to do with what I’d started to feel for you because you were off-limits but that didn’t keep me from wanting you and—“

His lips graze the side of your neck and with your breath hitching, he proceeds. Open-mouth kisses trail your neck, with just enough wetness and just enough heat to leave you wanting more. You angle your neck for more access and he smirks at this. 

“And what?” He urges you, mouth focusing on the other side of your neck now, head nudging yours to adjust. 

“And I avoided you because—“ 

You grip the couch for support, as you unravel with his hot breath on your skin.

“That seemed easier than to keep at what we were doing knowing that—“ 

He licks a sensitive part by your ear and your strangled moan spurs him on. 

“I couldn’t have you the way I wanted to.” 

At this, he stops. 

He focuses his gaze on you again. Jungkook holds onto the tiniest shred of self-control he has left just so he can savor you like this, emotions unraveling and your body falling apart before him. 

“How exactly do you want me?”

You steady your breath and as much as you want to give in to your carnal desire and attack his lips, you want him to know how much this means to you. You’re still scared but being with Jungkook steadies you, makes it all feel worth it.

You’re crossing this line now, and you’ll stick with him whether you’ll both come clean or keep it a secret. He wants you enough right now; you’ll figure out what to do eventually. 

Your hand finds his face and fingers trace the scar on his cheek. You let yourself drown in his beautiful eyes, knowing on clear nights you could see galaxies like this. 

“I want you close, Jungkook. I want you to hold me, when I’m sad, happy, confused. I want to hold you that way, too. I want to savor every moment, let you know everyday what you mean to me.”

Your featherlight touches on his jaw send shivers all over his body and he hums at the sensation. You caress his lips before he could bite them again, palming him with your thumb and feeling its softness.

“I want you to fall apart under my touch, want to make you feel good, kiss you like it’s always the last time.”

Jungkook thinks he deserves a prize for how well he’s keeping himself together and not yet taking you on this couch like his dick is telling him to. But he needed to hear all that, needed to look in your eyes while you said them.

Then you smile at him, eyes filled with desire, and that’s all it takes for him to lose his resolve and plunge into you, your plush lips against his soft ones, melding together again like a literal dream. He straightens his stance so his hands can cup your face and he feels you smile in the kiss, relishing in the care and attention he’s giving.

It starts tenderly then quickly turns heated, his eager hands trailing down your arms and waist, and your own entangling his hair, pulling the strands as he nips your lips, prompting them to open. 

Your tongues explore each other’s mouths, his lingering taste of rootbeer somehow making him more addictive. You swallow each other’s sounds, both of you still having half a mind to tone down, knowing that only a wall separates your wanton moans and your sleeping brother.

His grip around you tightens and you pull him closer, your hands now around his neck, fingers thumbing his cheeks and you’re losing yourself to him, as the past few months of undeniable attraction and sexual tension climaxing at this moment where you finally give in to what you’ve been trying to suppress.

Jungkook, on the other hand, feels a sense of calm even with his hard dick and his thumping heart because he’s dreamed of this, dreamed of you, and you’re here wanting him, too. All the memories of watching you from afar, blushing at how beautiful you are, missing you when you were away, heart breaking at how happy you were with someone else, fly by him like a movie because he’s got his ending - you. 

He’s lived for moments most of his life and always knew to savor them, to bask in them because he doesn’t know when he’ll get to have those again. But nothing comes close to right now with you and he decides to make sure he’ll have you like this everyday. 

Both your actions continue, hands stationary but mouths eagerly moving against each other, stopping momentarily for air but smiling, laughing in the kiss.

You give in first, fingers slowly trailing down to graze at his chest and he shivers, curses mid-kiss and you giggle, and he’s on cloud 9 again, realizing he can hear the beautiful sound that is your laughter everyday. 

Suddenly it’s all thoughts of what’s ahead for both of you, imagining what that would be like - feeling, holding, touching each other. You’re both so lost in your little world, minds traveling from now to tomorrow and it’s exciting, so incredibly alluring to be savoring this moment but also thinking about the next. 

You’re light-headed now because kissing him is like a drug, soothing yet exhilarating at the same time and you’re aching to feel him. “Jungkook…” You whine. 

And then.

“HOLY SHIT,” you hear a gasp.

Your eyes burst open and you feel Jungkook stiffen before you try to push him away. You both stull, looking at each other, some distance now between you, and you can hear a pin drop with how quiet it is, the tension so thick that you’re afraid to move. 

You knew at one point you’re gonna have to tell Jimin but not now and definitely not in the middle of a fucking make-out session.

“Is this a hookup or are you both finally out of your asses and would actually like to properly date because god knows it’s about time?”

You and Jungkook slowly turn to the side, eyes wide at your brother who’s leaning by the wall, checking his nails as if he didn’t just give you a heart attack.

“WHAT?” You ask.

“Jungkook’s been into you since forever but never had the fucking guts to do anything.” Jimin sighs and rolls his eyes at the man. “You’re not exactly subtle with your staring.”

Jungkook can’t seem to wrap his head around what's happening because his mouth keeps moving but no sound comes out.

“Neither are you,” Jimin eyes you this time. “You forget I’m good with reading people. And also, I’m friends with Yuri. She doesn’t even remember that guy,” he laughs because of course they’re friends. You feel so stupid; you should’ve known he was trying to catch you in a lie when he asked if your sulking was because of a “guy.”

“So you’ve always known?” Jungkook finally finds his voice.

“About you, duh. She’s recent,” Jimin points to you. “It’s like, one moment you’re friendly then you’re flirty then it’s like you can’t stand each other. Get your shit together, people. I’m literally right here.”

God, you and Jungkook were definitely not subtle. And underestimated your brother, too.

“So you’re not mad?” You confirm.

“No.”

“But… you said you were gonna cut my dick off,” Jungkook stammers.

“And you told me to keep off your friends because of Taemin,” you add. “You stopped being friends because of me,” you remind him, voice almost a whisper.

Jimin takes a deep breath because now he has to come clean.

“We stopped being friends because of him. He hurt you, ___, and you didn’t deserve that,” he admits, avoiding your questioning gaze. “I heard you crying to Jin about what happened and I got angry and wanted you to stay away from my friends because they were all assholes.” He continues, jaw clenched at the memory. “Well, except for him,” he cocks his head towards Jungkook. 

“He was the only good guy. I never really minded if he went for you because... iknowhe’lltreatyouwellandyoudeservethat,” Jimin says.

And you’re not gonna lie, you feel like crying. Jimin’s been trying to protect you all this time. 

Jungkook, on the other hand, isn’t taking this all too well.

“You said you were gonna cut my dick off…” He says again, tone low and unbelieving.

“That didn’t stop you, did it?” Jimin counters, earning him a sigh of defeat because he has a point. 

“I just wanted it to happen naturally,” he explains. “I mean, I didn’t plan on getting heartbroken, injured, unemployed, then homeless all at once but it happened and you both helped me and that unintentionally brought you together and I…” 

He turns to you both. “I realized how good you are together. Not just in taking care of me but in taking care of each other, too.”

By this time, Jungkook has found his feet and is back to standing in front of you, his hand intertwining with yours. You let out a laugh because this whole time, Jimin wasn’t in the dark. But then again, he’s a smart ass too and would’ve figured it out.

And would also push it. “I actually got over Taehyung months ago so like, I’ve been okay for a while,” he shrugs.

And just like that, he gets on your nerves again because that’s how he’s been getting his way, by reminding you of his “broken heart that’s still hurting.” 

“You little bitch! Do you also have a new apartment now and you’re not telling me?!” You shriek, and Jungkook next to you is finally laughing. 

“Oh no,” Jimin responds. “I’m really still homeless.”

And he smiles his sickly sweet smile and you can’t help but mirror it. Your brother is really something, and you don’t know what you’d do without him.

Some seconds pass and you’re just all basking in this moment because for the first time in months, it really feels like things are looking out for all of you.

“So in that case,” Jungkook turns to you. “Would you like to go on a date with me?” Hopeful eyes staring at you, a weight off his shoulder now that he doesn’t need to hide anything from his best friend. He can just focus on falling in love with you and making you do the same. 

“Yes,” you excitedly reply, hand trailing down his chest again. “And in that case, would you like to continue this in my bedroom?”

Jungkook feels his dick twitch. “Fuck, yes.”

“Guess I’m gonna have to sleep on the couch now,” Jimin groans, but you don’t miss his playful tone. “You’re both welcome, idiots.”

**

You’re pushed to the wall right as the door closes and Jungkook’s lips meet yours immediately. It tastes much sweeter knowing there’s no need to hide, to be careful. It’s liberating and it’s making you feel more.

He kisses you harshly as his hands make quick work of your shirt, pulling them off then slowly kneeling down in tandem with his mouth sucking, licking, and kissing down to your breasts, then your torso, causing your chest to heave at the pleasure from just his mouth.

His hands aggressively pull down your bottoms and his tongue finds your clit before you can even process his action. He’s nibbling your bud and laving at your lips and pumping his fingers in you all at once, you don’t know where to focus. 

You feel the desperation and intensity with every move, the sensation overwhelming and eliciting lewd sounds from you. He alternates between moaning and cursing on your cunt and that just adds to the pleasure.

“Eager, aren’t we?” You ask with a smirk.

“You have no idea,” he responds, head buried between your thighs, one of which is currently resting on his shoulder. “Some of my wet dreams may have been because of you.”

“What the fuck Jungkook!”

“I was a growing boy with raging teen hormones!” He says in between breaths. But he doesn’t relent. Fingers curling in your hole, tongue swirling on your clit, and hand squeezing your ass, he’s determined to make you cum now, and with a hard suck, you do. 

You jerk away at the oversensitivity with his mouth still on you and you pull him up to give him a kiss, tasting yourself on him.

At the sight of you bare, eyes half-lidded and steadying breath, he stills.

“Is everything okay?” You ask.

“Yeah I just…” He starts, stepping back a bit, and his eyes roam your body, smile creeping up his face. “I never thought I’d get to have you like this. I always admired you from afar and you always felt so out of reach and I…”

“Jungkook,” you stop him. 

“I’m here with you right now, barely any distance. I’m not your best friend’s sister, okay?” Your hand reaches out to him and he takes it, let’s you pull him closer. “I’m the girl you like whom you’ll take out on a date after you fuck her senseless. Got it?”

“Y-yeah,” he stammers, a shy laugh escaping him. 

You kiss him softly. “No need to admire me from a distance anymore. You have me, right here.”

“Okay.”

And before he can attack you again, you lead him towards your bed. Your fingers pull the waistband of his sweats as you sit on the edge and look up at him, wide eyes eager for something.

“Shirt off,” you say, and he follows.

Your eyes meet your hands that are slowly ridding him of his remaining clothing and you swear you could come again at the sight of the tiger lily tattoo resting on his hip. It curves with his semi-defined v-line, the stem trailing downward, like some pathway to his throbbing dick that’s leaking with some pre-cum.

You take him in your hands and he bucks at the feel of your soft skin around his length that’s aching to be inside you. Your eyes stay on the tattoo; something about it is so hot and you kiss it, lips then exploring the expanse of his hip and up to the part of his torso that you can reach, feeling the ridges of his definitely smooth abs, now tensing at the sensation. 

All the while, your hand is stroking his member, up and down as you continue kissing and licking his pelvis and just like this, he already tastes so good. He grunts with your ministrations, head falling back at the intense pleasure. His hands fall to your hair as you take him in, tongue traversing his dick and your heat clenches at the salty taste of cum and the feel of his veins as his shaft twitches in your mouth.

At the vibration caused by your moan, he stops you, removes himself from you and then lays half your body down on the edge of the bed. 

“My turn,” he says smugly.

You’re about to protest but he swirls his tongue all over your cunt again, the pad of his thumb flicking your nub and you moan his name instead. You haven’t fully recovered from your first orgasm yet but he seems determined to give you another one. He’s eating you like a man starved, as if he plans to slurp you dry.

“More, Jungkook,” you breathe out, then he’s pumping his dick and thrusting into you, the stretch just a tad bit painful but so, so good. 

He quickly adjusts, spreads your legs open for his easy access and the view, and he growls at the supple flesh that's taking him so well. It’s so erotic, watching himself go in and out of you like this, then hearing your deliciously hypnotic moans louden as his hands start kneading your breasts like it’s some dough he’s molding to his liking, his fingers flicking the hardened nipples.

“You feel so fucking heavenly, ___,” he pants. “Fuck, fuck. Can’t believe you’re mine.”

“All yours, Kook,” you respond, delirious now because his movements are really sending you to another dimension. “Fuck me harder,” you beg, and he follows. 

He adjusts again, flushing your legs against you and the angle in which his dick hits your sweet spot causes your eyes to roll to the back of your head. 

You’re screaming expletives and it’s just urging him to go harder, deeper, faster, his sweat trickling down his temples and forming on his chest.

“Cum for me, baby. I need to feel you,” he huffs. 

He’s in a frenzied state and he’s losing himself in you, his mouth now parted and he joins your filthy wails, which are in tune with the sound of skin slapping on skin. 

You feel your body spasm and you call out his name before you give in, heart stopping for a moment and he feels the stream of your cum coat his dick that’s just savoring this a bit more.

But you clench and it’s all it takes, his own seed spurting in you and your back arches as he comes down from his high by languidly kissing your breasts, one hand around your lifted waist and the other, intertwining your hand. 

“Fuck, you feel so good. So much better than I imagined,” he utters, sounding so winded at the intensity of his orgasm.

He’s too tired to even move, body now resting on top of you, chest heaving and bated breaths escaping him. You massage his head and he moans even at that and you laugh but soften at the intimacy of it all.

He finally gets himself off you and you chuckle as he sneakily opens the door and tiptoes to the bathroom, careful not to be caught naked by your brother. He returns with a wet towel, wipes you, then lays next to you, his arm secured around your waist.

He’s smiling so fondly, lips now peppering kisses all over your face. “You’re stuck with me,” he states.

“Nowhere I'd rather be,” you reply, your own soft kiss now turning greedy again, and you think it’s gonna be a long night.

**

You wake up tired but you’re not complaining. It was quite the evening, after all, and you’re reminded by the fluff of grey hair adorning your chest. Jungkook likes to cuddle, you’ve learned, and he couldn’t sleep without a part of his body touching you. 

You release from his hold and head to the kitchen after washing up, not expecting your brother to already be eating his cereal.

“Oh my god, can you wear shorts?” He huffs. 

“Bitch, you’re in my apartment,” you bite back, laughing at the face he makes. 

Your front is to the counter when Jungkook approaches and unlike before, heads to you, arms wrapped around your waist from behind and places a kiss on your cheek. “Good morning.”

His voice is hoarse and you hold back a moan because it just brings you back to last night when after you came the second time, he fucked you softly for your third, then fucked you hard for your fourth, then softly again this morning for your (extended) fifth. God, this man will be the death of you. 

He nuzzles your neck and you giggle.

“Manners, you two. You’re like teenagers,” Jimin scowls.

“Well, I am living my teenage dream,” Jungkook announces. 

Jimin grimaces but softens at the look of his two favorite people looking so happy. “Okay, this is gonna take some getting used to.”

You and Jungkook playfully nod in agreement.

“Also,” he turns to Jungkook who’s now managed to tear away from you. “Are you gonna be here again tonight because you know, I kinda wanna sleep on a bed and all. Couch is great but like, no.”

“You better find your own place soon if you don’t want to keep sleeping there every night,” you reply smugly.

“Okay, now gross!” Jimin, dramatic as always, pretend-gags at the implication. “I’m gonna look for places. Jungkook, you’re still my best friend. We’re going apartment hunting tomorrow.”

“But…” You start.

“No. Nuh-uh. You had him last night and you’re going out on a date today. You need to share my best friend.”

And you all laugh at him throwing a tantrum. He and Jungkook start to bicker and you walk towards your room to grab shorts because it really is awkward when your brother is there. 

The doorbell rings as you’re about to walk back and you open the door, a surprised look on your face.

“Hi, is Jimin there?” The person asks.

**

You head back to the kitchen, your guest in tow and you call out to your brother.

“Chim, someone’s looking for you.”

Jimin looks up and almost falls off the chair.

“Taehyung?” He says, trying to mask the nervous tone of his voice. “I…”

“I have something to confess,” Taehyung cuts him off, eyes nervous but hopeful. “Can we, uhm, maybe talk somewhere else?” 

Jimin nods and quickly follows him out.

You walk back to Jungkook and he tugs you close, hands back to your waist. “What’s that about?” 

You bite back an excited squeal as you think back to what Taehyung told you at the door. 

“Let’s just say, you might not need to help Jimin look for an apartment anymore,” you respond. 

Jungkook smiles and pulls you in for a hug, reveling in this absolutely perfect moment. 

“You Park siblings drive me crazy, you know that? And you two make me so damn happy.”

##

masterlist

#jungkook #jungkook fic #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #brother's best friend #hold me close #oneshot #mine

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

Could you do a Saul Silva x princess fairy reader whew the two are secretly dating but the reader mom finds out and is disgusted by it but the reader defends Saul

Pairing: Saul Silva x royal fairy!reader

Part 1 

Y/N didn't think Saul would return for her. As many have before him, she assumed he'd deem her less than worthy of the trouble she represents. When they parted, he promised it's not the case, Y/N didn't quite believe him.

Months passed since she saw him last, slowly forgetting the way he made her heart find a thundering pace she never felt before. For those few moments they shared, Y/N realized just how trapped she's been feeling in her royal role.

Just for that short time, she had felt a dash of freedom and safety and it was thanks to Saul. It's silly to be so touched by a person who barely touched her physically, she's more than aware of that, but it never stopped her from closing her eyes each night with intent of remembering his face, the sound of his voice, that perfect shade of blue his grey eyes turned underneath the sunrays who seemed just as taken by his beauty as she was.

In fairytales she read as a child, everything worked out in the end. Despite Saul's hopeful wish of their future meet, Y/N despaired when she realized she could no longer conjure up the way she put a smile on his face.

She returned to the same bench with a meek sigh, closing her eyes as if she could make him real with just her mind. If she were a light fairy, she could fraction the sunlight to form an illusion of Saul, but all she can do is grow her flowers stronger - to substitute lack of her own strength.

"Princess", Philip's voice brings a slight frown on her face, but her eyes remain closed.

"Perhaps you'd open your eyes for an old acquaintance?"

Eyes opening wide, her lips part as a handsome man eclipses the sun she sat in. His eyes are darker than before, carrying a new weight he's been shouldering bravely. His hair is comly, styled to perfection - he put effort in his look, she decides as her eyes travel down his body, noticing his formal clothing.

"It depends", she quirks an eyebrow, her lips pressing in a thin line. "Are you here to claim a new medal or are you here to discuss something regarding work?"

A small smile spreads across his face as he lets out an amused huff. "Can it not be that I've missed you?"

Crossing her legs, she leans back as her eyes flicker to Philip. "Leave us."

"I cannot", Philip begins but she glares at him.

"It is an order."

With a curt nod, Philip takes off, but Y/N knew he wouldn't go far. He never did.

"You didn't have to be so short with him", Saul gives her a disapproving look, moving to sit beside her. He pauses before doing so. "May I?" He remembers to ask, a custom he must abide by in royal presences.

Glancing at him, she purses her lips. "You may."

"I meant it", he tells her as he positions him beside her. "I've been thinking about you."

"I hope it was fruitful thinking", she looks ahead at the roses she grew the day before with the color matching Saul's eyes perfectly.

"Hurtful, if I'm being honest", he sighs, looking down at her folded hands sitting perfectly poised in her lap. He considered reaching for them, but he decided against it. Improper, he justified. It would be too improper to engage in any sort of physical affection without her explicit permission.

"In which way", she turns to him, a crack showing in her cold exterior. She was trained in the art of diplomacy, but being stone cold proved itself impossible around Saul.

"The way a man would hurt in the absence of the one he harbors in depths of his heart."

Those words have entirely shattered her cold persona, her bottom lip quivering as their eyes met, reflecting their wistfulness and desire in equal manner.

"You said they'd never allow us to be together", she reminds him. "What changed to make you want to try now?"

Inhaling deeply, Saul licks his lips before he speaks. "I've been asked to...protect you once you come to Alfea."

Raising her eyebrows, Y/N's eyes widen. "Alfea? W-what do you mean?" She stands up, shaking her head. "Tell me. Now."

Biting his lower lip to diminish his smile, Saul clears his throat. This is no time for jokes. "You mother allowed you to spend your last year of education in Alfea with the other fairies." He watches her cover her mouth, too happy to speak. "She said something about a royal needing to network", Saul stands too, no longer hiding his smile.

Too quickly, he found himself in her arms, going half deaf with her cheerful squealing in his ear. He didn't hesitate, wrapping his arms around the princess, inhaling her intoxicating lilac scent. It reminded him of that first time they met, when she pretended to stumble just to have an excuse to be this close to him. It took all his self-restraint to keep his hands to himself after that, and a small threat of Philip calling him to duel for inappropriate touching of a royal.

The Princess packed rather quickly, in days they were in Alfea and Saul was her sworn protector. Philip was there as well, taken in as a professor for the specialists and he quite enjoyed teaching them - by tackling them to the ground every chance he got.

Y/N didn't mind the added freedom Philip having a job meant, if anything, she abused it. Every chance she was given, Y/N found herself by Saul's side. Their smiles when together were hard to ignore, even by Philip who had kept his distance and mouth shut.

Everyone could tell the princess was in love with Saul, just as well as they could tell of his devotion to her. No one spoke of it, of course, it was an unspoked fact everyone got confirmation in turmoil Saul and the princess suffered when they believed he’d be turned by a Burned one. He was saved thanks to Sky and the princess joining forces to find the one who infected Saul, much to his dismay. 

Saul never wanted to put her in danger, he’d have died if it meant she’d be safe. The Princess took it upon herself to ensure it never happens. 

Once all the dangers passed, for once, the Princess was happy. Truly happy. The smiles she shared with Saul turned to timid hand-holding walks, to picnics in the greenhouse, to movie nights in Saul's room. It didn't take long for stolen kisses to turn into passionate nights spent in bliss neither of them could forget.

And then it happened.

"What is this?!" Y/N stood at the front door of Alfea with disheveled hair and Saul's shirt just barely covering her thighs. Saul was supposed to get something from the cafeteria to share in bed as they didn't plan on leaving the room at all, but he was taking too long....now she knew why.

His hands are cuffed behind his back, his own soldiers leading him to a car. She can see Sky standing on the other side of the car, looking just as horrified as she is. Her eyes located her mother standing beside Queen Luna and Rosalind, a woman Y/N knew was bad news since Bloom had let her out of her cell.

"Where are you taking him", she raises her voice, running barefoot toward a distraught Saul. He looked like he's barely keeping himself from breaking at the sight of her eyes filling with tears he just couldn't bare to see fall.

Philip grabs her before she has a chance to get down the stairs, Saul thanking him silently as they open the door to the car he's about to be forced into.

"Saul Silva, it is with a heavy heart that I must place you under arrest", Y/N's mother speaks. Though her words convey it pains her to do it, her voice is light and her eyes are empty of any sympathy.

"For what", Y/N screamed in agony. "For loving me? For being the only person in this world who cares about me?!"

Her mother barely glanced at her before she replied. "For attempted murder of Andreas of Eraklyon."

Sky stepped closer, mouth open as he struggled to process the news. Y/N had built up a friendship with a few years younger Sky, she cared about him enough to know the story of his father's death...except, Saul had told her the true version of events he withheld from Sky before.

"Attempted?" Sky repeated. That's when the door of a truck opened, a man climbing out. The face was familiar even to Y/N who had only seen it in photos Saul kept hidden in his closet.

It's Andreas, Y/N realizes.

Queen Luna continued where Y/N's mother left off, ordering the soldiers to enter Alfea, but to handle Saul Silva as well.

Y/N saw the dazed look in his eyes as they pulled Saul into the back seat of the truck.

Fighting the hold Philip had on her, Y/N kicked and screamed as the car drove down the road, taking Saul far away from her. Tears flooded her cheeks as she sobbed openly, her heart breaking in the worst of ways - it's ripped apart, rather than cut. If it were a cut, it could be stitched up and healed with time, but a rip can never truly heal - not without an ugly scar that will hurt for the rest of her life.

Her mother came closer to her, a smug look on her face as she saw the fight leave her devastated daughter. Philip stepped back as the Queen approached, leaving Y/N alone.

"You will never see him again." She says solemnly, almost like an oath.

Sniffling, Y/N's jaw clenches. "I am to inherit your kingdom one day", she giggles almost maniacally. "We'll see how smug you look when I burn it down to the ground."

Standing with nothing but rage keeping her sane, Y/N was glad she could use the stairs to tower over her controlling mother.

"All that you've built, I will tear down. I swear to you." Y/N clenched her fists as she stared down at her mother who looked unphased by her daughter's threats.

"Mhmm", she smiles at Y/N. "You forget you have to be married in order to rule the kingdom. To a king who will have more power than you." She reminds her, bringing shivers down her spine.

Y/N's mother was so powerful only due to her father's genuine disinterest in ruling, in anything resembling working. He had given her mother the power of regency almost immediately after they married, but the rules state the king is the acting monarch...Who would ever surrender such a position?

Y/N's act of rebellion and future vengeance was already falling apart.

"Don't you worry, my dear", her mother climbed the stairs, cupping her tear-stained cheek before roughly gripping her chin, tilting it up so she'd face her mother's dark, unforgiving eyes.

Y/N can't remember the last time she felt so alone, so defenseless as she does now. Saul isn't here to protect her, to whisper sweet nothings in her ear. He's taken from her, likely to be executed before a trial even takes place - it's what her mother did best to all she deemed an enemy.

"What did you do", Y/N whispers as she realizes her mother had planned it all - the arrest, the end to her attempts at finding freedom, love, happiness. It's all been pre-planned. Alfea was likely just a crumb given to her in order for the rest of her plans to fall into place and Saul was just a scapegoat.

"I found you a husband", her mother smirks wickedly as she turns back to look at the father son reunion happening just behind her back.

Horrified, Y/N shakes her head. "I'm not marrying Andreas", she states firmly. Though she meant she's not marrying anyone that isn't Saul. She refuses to believe this is the end.

A dry chuckle from her mother sobers her up, "Of course not!" She presses on Y/N's chin in order to make her look at the two men. "You'll marry the future king of Eraklyon. Sky."

Part 3

#saul silva fic #saul silva imagine #saul silva x reader #saul silva #fate the winx saga #saul silva angst #saul silva fanfiction #fate saul silva #saul silva ftws

[ramzawrites]

Rivals - Prince!Reader x Prince!Eret

Male

Pairings: Eret x Reader

Characters included: Eret

Warnings: n/a

Series: a request from 🌱🌟 my beloved <3 /p

Summary: Prince Y/N and Prince Eret hated each other. That was just a fact. Mostly causing trouble together in order to one up the other. Though over the time even their relationship can change.

Words count: 5367

Authors Note: I’ll be honest you hit me with this request at a very good time so I ended up writing 10 pages in one go haha

At the end I made the executive decision to finally cut it off or I probably would have written even more, for which I’m honestly don’t have the time at the moment. I hope it’s not that obvious but if it is I apologize.

Thank you for the request 🌱🌟

I am reposting it since the original post doesn’t seem to appear in the tags no need to check the original post but I wanted to give a reason why it’s twice on my blog

Prince Eret and Prince Y/N hated each other.

That was just a universally accepted thing and something that made sense. Just like how water is wet, the ground was made out of dirt, Eret and Y/N hated each other.

Both of their respecting kingdoms never had a good relationship to say the least. Way back in the day the two nations have wared against each other which almost ruined both kingdoms forcing the two to an act of neutrality with the behest of the neighboring kingdoms.

Though this was way off in the past. Nowadays they had rebuilt. Their forces and monetary situation stood strong but they stayed neutral. Eyeing each other closely for any slip ups, though they were also bound to contracts that would involve other nations as well should they begin to go to war again, which wasn’t in interest for both parties.

So they tried to mostly ignore each other which only worked to an extent. If you are a strong nation with an impressive military force or with a lot of money, other nations will invite you to their balls, banquets or whatever fancy party they have going at that point. And it was in your best interest to join these as well, to show off your might, wealth or to connect with other foreign powers.

The first time Y/N’s family took him with them to one of these balls, he was barely six years old.

For a six year old a ball was a boring affair. All the adults were courteously laughing and only sipping on their drinks. Occasionally walking on the stage to dance to the slow and boring music.

Y/N was busy watching two older women dance in tandem. Their dresses and silk moving together in a sea of fabric that seemed to hypnotized the child as he sat on the side of the stage. His parents were off somewhere else, feeling they could trust enough in his proper upbringing to not cause any problems, that they left him. Saying that he should try to enjoy himself.

Enjoy himself how? Dance with the lonely grandma that was busy drinking away all the wine in the castle? No, thank you.

Finally tearing his eyes off the dancing women Y/N noticed how someone else was cautiously approaching him. It was another kid in what he assumed was his age. This stranger had fluffy wild hair and had a sympathetic smile on his face. He wore a simple suit similar to Y/N’s but there were a ton of differences in details.

As he got closer Y/N could swear that something seemed off about him. Something in him was screaming but he couldn’t place why he felt like that.

“Hello.” The other kid greeted Y/N.

Y/N looked around the room for a second before setting his attention back on him “Hello. Who are you?” There was a small hope in him, hey maybe this boring ball won’t be so boring after all.

With a proud expression the kid did a proper royal greeting, bowing in front of Y/N for a second “I am Prince Eret from the mighty nation of-“

But Y/N interrupted him “Prince Eret?! I know of you! My parents warned me and told me to ignore you.” He then stuck his tongue out and made a point to look away from him.

Eret furrowed his brows, exclaiming loudly his confusion to this reaction “Huh? Why?”

Y/N rolled his eyes and got off the chair he was sitting on. Just like Eret, he did his own version of the royal greeting that he got taught by his etiquette teachers “I am Prince Y/N.”

He knew he didn’t need to say more which got confirmed by Eret’s worried and confused expression turning into a proper frown.

“Oh, yuck, so that’s what you look like.”

Y/N gasped in anger “What do you mean yuck? You are the yuck one here! Between the two of us I’m clearly the cooler prince!”

“Oh really? Prove it.” Eret huffed as he crossed his arms in front of his chest.

Now fired up Y/N looked frantically through the whole ball room but couldn’t seem to come up with anything, that was until he saw a servant of the local royal family sauntering around with a plate of drinks and even with a few cheese and meat skewers.

“I bet I could steal more of these skewers from the servants than you.”

Instead of backing down Eret now had a competitive glint in his eyes “You are on.”

And that’s how both Eret and Y/N got into their first real trouble with their parents and other nobles.

They snuck around the people, hiding behind huge skirts and trying their best to grab a skewer from the plate. At first they waited for the servant to look away while they were talking to someone but soon their maneuvers turned riskier and riskier. Jumping up to grab one or even trying to distract them before grabbing another.

At some point for whatever reason both jumped into the air at the same time, grabbing the same skewer which ended with them smashing into the servant who in return fell down, the drinks spilling onto a couple that stood closely by.

As the adults were trying to understand what just happened Y/N grabbed Eret’s arm and yelled “Run!”

The two begun running away, making their way into the garden, hiding behind a bush as they heard some adults screaming and running around.

Y/N didn’t care if Eret got caught by the adults but he was worried he might sell him out to them as well. No, he was positive he would definitely snitch on him.

Out of breath the two kids huddled together, keeping their ears open, trying to catch any sound that might come closer to them.

Eret looked at Y/N  “I clearly won.” He then showed off the skewers he was holding against his suit, effectively ruining it.

Y/N shook his head, showing his own off “Nuh-uh. I clearly won.”

For some reason or another they managed to acquire the same amount of food so they sadly had to come to the conclusion that this was a tie. As they angrily begun snacking on their loot, they still continued throwing childish insults at each other.

This only lasted for a few minutes until their parents found them and figuratively tore them away to yell at them. Saying things like “this is not the proper behavior of a prince! Now we have to apologize to all the people! Do you know what this could cost us?”

From that point on their rivalry really started. Every few months they would meet up again by proxy of being invited to the same noble festivities. In fact every time Y/N was on such a party he fully expected Eret being there as well.

He would arrive and keep look out for that oh so dashing prince from the rival kingdom. Y/N scoffed, Eret wished he thought of him like that but in truth Y/N probably knew the best what kind of idiot he could be. After all he had firsthand experience for this.

While they always ended up in some sort of trouble there was this one moment, when they were twelve years old, that always stood out to him.

As usual Eret and Y/N found each other during a banquet. Both immediately fell back into arguing and making fun of each other. The adults got so tired of it that they sent the two outside so they could, in their words, cool down.

“You look ridiculous in your suit.” Eret mumbled towards Y/N as they wandered outside into the garden. Y/N just rolled his eyes as a response, choosing to ignore Eret at this point, not feeling comfortable with being banished outside together with him.

The garden was beautiful, of course.

Different kinds of flowers were planted along all the sides of the garden. Between them stood a few Willow trees with their long leaves hanging above the flowers and seating opportunities while in the middle of the whole place stood a beautiful huge pond with a statue protruding from the middle of it. The statue displayed two unidentifiable human beings holding on to each other, both holding an urn up into the air together where some water was rushing out ouf down into the pond.

While this all, together with the moon light, looked almost magical Y/N was more concentrated on what was inside the pond.

As he walked over to the water he could see a few koi fish flitting around in there. He sat down and lazily begun drawing invisible patterns into the water. Sometimes the fish would come close only to immediately swim away once they either saw the hand or felt the movement.

Eret was just standing dumbfounded to the side. Staring at Y/N which infuriated him. He could feel his dark eyes lingering on him and it just annoyed him. Eret finally shut up but now he was just standing there in uncomfortable silence.

Y/N let out a frustrated sigh “Stop doing that.”

Eret looked bewildered at that “Stop, what?”

“Staring! I can see you staring! I know I’m handsome but come on.” Y/N snickered at the last part.

This time Eret rolled his eyes “Nah, I was just thinking how easy it would be to push you into the water right now and was debating if it was worth getting into trouble for it.”

“And what did your small brain come up with?”

Eret walked over and sat down next to Y/N “It’s sadly not worth it. I feel like I would get in even more trouble than last time when I was destroying you in that food fight.”

Y/N angrily shook his head “Oh, no! I was winning! You were lucky my father literally pulled me away from you or you wouldn’t even be standing here right now!”

“You wish! Your father saved the small bit of dignity you have!”

Ignoring Eret’s attempt to obviously rile him up and make him more angry, Y/N turned now fully away from him and instead returned to watching the fish. They looked more interesting and had more personality than Eret anyhow.

It was also definitely easier to look at the animals than Eret. Every time he would look at him even only for a little bit this fuzzy anger inside the pit of Y/N’s stomach would come up and by god he hated it. Unbeknownst to him this feeling was mutual.

Eret almost seemed chuffed that Y/N didn’t seem to react and instead chose to follow him suit with watching the fish.

“If we are already stuck out here let’s make it at least interesting.” Y/N broke the silence “Let’s catch some fish. I’m betting I can catch more than you.”

Eret was already getting rid of his jacket and pushed his sleeves up “I doubt that!”

Not wasting time Y/N shed his jacket as well and rolled his sleeves up only to jump into the water himself once the fish stayed out of both their reaches due to their incessant punching into the water.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Not losing!” was all Y/N said.

Eret not feeling too keen on possibly losing, jumped into the pond as well, trying to ignore Y/N who was inadvertently splashing water his way.

As a bit of a payback Eret threw some water towards Y/N which resulted in him loosing a prime chance for trying to grab a fish.

Everything is allowed in love and war after all and this was definitely war.

Though this action led to Y/N retaliating with spraying water back on Eret. Soon the two didn’t care about the fish anymore and were too busy trying to wrestle the other under the water. It wasn’t a full blown fight, no real punches fell but there was a lot of pushing and pulling.

They only stopped once they heard a blood curdling scream. Apparently the noble who owned the garden saw them inside her pond and was obviously not too pleased with it.

Yeah, there was a lot of anger and screaming afterwards but for Y/N and Eret it just fueled their hatred toward each other. If the other one wasn’t there, then they wouldn’t have this problem in the first place but since this wasn’t the case all they could do as proper heirs to their respecting kingdoms was to make the others existence pain.

Over the years their rivalry became infamous and nobles who invited both to their festivities either tried to keep increased watch over them or to the detriment of both sides of the families, tried to incite them. Noble people where a strange lot, trying to find entertainment in the weirdest places.

Not that Y/N or Eret cared too much. They were too busy trying to screw the other over though their methods changed over the years. As kids they were more physical with it while the older they got they tended to use their words more and more to the relieve of their parents.

A good example for that was when both were about sixteen years old.

At this point they learned to rein in their anger towards the other and instead concentrated more or less on their royal duties. Well, they tried but every time they saw each other anger would just flood their systems.

It was a typical ball really. The nobles were busy mingling with each other, spreading false compliments in order to gain the political or social upper hand. Some called it an intricate game but Y/N thought it was just stupid. Just say what you think and don’t sugar coat it. That was something and maybe the only thing he and Eret could agree on. As much as he hated that guy he wasn’t scared to tell Y/N what he thought of him.

He appreciated him for that. A shiver ran down his spine as soon as that thought crossed his mind and Y/N just shoved it away. Never in his life would he actually appreciate that mad prince.

That said it was a bit weird how he hasn’t spotted Eret yet. Not that he was specifically looking out for him or anything. He just wanted to be aware where he was so he could avoid him. Was he invited? His family was here but he seemed to be gone. Maybe he finally gave up trying to one up Y/N and stayed home.

Y/N doubted that though. The only reason why Eret wouldn’t appear to something like this was if he was seriously sick. It happened only once and Y/N ended up being bored to death. So what if he derived entertainment from his rival? That’s a part of the reason what rivalries are for, right?

Spending so much time thinking about him made Y/N uncomfortable. This one feeling in the pit of his stomach just flared up again which he didn’t appreciate one bit. Just another reason why Eret was so annoying. He was the only person this happened with.

Bored out of his mind Y/N begun moving through the ball room. There was one place Eret could be hiding away at. If anything Y/N could predict some behavior from him over the years. Making sure to stay away from all the dancing people and the conversations, not feeling interested to take part in it. Instead he moved towards the gardens.

It was just the place he and Eret would default to since at the slightest chance of trouble the other nobles liked to throw them out immediately.

So when he spotted Eret walking around the rose bushes it didn’t completely surprise him.

“And here I thought I spied a birds nest in between the bushes but alas it is just Eret’s hair.”

Eret visibly flinched once he heard Y/N. Apparently he had been so busy with his own thoughts that he didn’t notice Y/N approaching him. He frowned at the other prince while he in return was just smirking smugly.

Sighing Eret walked over to a particular big rose and begun inspecting it“ And I thought I would finally be free of you. You arrived late, huh?”

“Hardly my fault, though I too was hoping you finally conceded and stayed home but here you are just staring at some roses like some hopeless romantic prince from some sort of fairy tale.”

When Eret didn’t immediately fire back and hesitated Y/N’s eyes widened “No! Don’t tell me! Don’t tell me you actually have a crush on someone! Who is the poor person?”

As he spoke the words out loud it felt like his chest was ablaze. Something about that thought rubbed him the wrong way. He just labelled it as a different way for his annoyance towards Eret to show up but it confused him nonetheless.

Realistically what did he care about his love affairs?

Finally Eret vehemently shook his head “No, nothing like that! Why was this where your mind went? I was just bored and am looking at the flowers. Even you can admit that they are pretty, right?” Eret chuckled “Or are you jealous somehow?”

“Only in your dreams.” Y/N responded with a disgusted expression on his face.

“Nightmares you mean.” Eret added before pulling one rose out of the bush.

Y/N looked around hoping none of the staff or someone else saw this “Dude, what the hell are you doing? If you get into trouble for stealing flowers and I’m around everyone will think I’m part of this.”

“They won’t notice, Y/N. Well, they will only notice it if you aren’t careful enough. You need to have an eye for such things and me begrudgingly knowing you as well as I do, you do not have an eye for that.”

This is always how it happens. Every god damn time. One of the two would make a statement that the other person couldn’t do a very specific thing and all bets were off.

A dangerous glint appeared in Y/N’s eyes “I’ll give you the most amazing rose bouquet without tipping anyone off.” He didn’t seem to realize what he just said but Eret did.

While Y/N turned around in order to scour out the place Eret was still standing in the back. A soft blush on his face. Almost angry with himself he frowned and turned to the opposite direction Y/N just went. He was just so frustrating to be around. Doesn’t even think before he speaks.

This whole endeavor took longer than both initially expected. Most of the time they would just saunter between the bushes only occasionally plucking a flower off. Often enough the two stood in front of the same rose, trying to act as fast as possible to get it before the other.

Eret clearly went for the flower first but once his hand touched the stem of the rose, Y/N was there as well, his hand brushing past Eret’s, holding onto the lower part of the stem.

“You’ve got be kidding me.” Y/N cursed.

Eret squinted his eyes as he looked at him “What do you mean? I went for it first! You still continued grabbing it like the brute you are!”

Y/N gasped in a fake display of disbelief. Acting like the biggest insult just got hurled towards him when in fact Eret has said worse things before or even the countless nobles who suffered damages due to their shenanigans.

Both stared at each other, not letting go off the rose. Their brows furrowed into deep scowls as they just continued staring at each other. Hoping that for some reason any kind of weakness would just magically appear or that someone will let go off the damn flower.

It was incredibly uncomfortable for the both of them. Y/N and Eret both stared directly into each other’s eyes. Pink dusted faces turned towards one another, not daring to move a muscle.

“God, I hate you so much.” Y/N grumbled.

Eret nodded “Believe me the feeling is mutual.”

After a few more seconds of staring and angry expressions they both let go at the same time.

There they stood. Two princes of enemy kingdoms holding each a small bouquet of roses with blushing faces.

If you would ask them about it they would immediately exclaim the blush was just a result of their anger bubbling out.

Eret let out a breath he didn’t notice he was holding “Tie?”

Y/N looked down at his own bouquet “Yeah, sure, let’s call it a tie. This is stupid anyhow.”

That was the last time they saw each other for a while.

Since they both were heirs to their respective thrones they soon got sent away to boarding schools in order to get properly trained for their future duties. Besides being educated and introduced what these duties actually entailed, they also got trained in the art of combat.

While most of, if not all, nobles learn how to fight it was something expected from Y/N and Eret. They had to get good at it. A tradition that still stemmed from the waring days of their competing nations.

So for the next four years Y/N was sent away to a boarding school inside his own nation, only later hearing that Eret befell the same fate, which didn’t surprise him.

The years dragged on rather slowly. Most of the subjects were boring but Y/N realized they were important so he put himself through the grueling task of proper studying. The daily training sessions helped him immensely by bringing some sort of change to his every day and tended to look forward to them. Mostly since he became good friends with his coach. A mercenary hired by his family to train him.

Becoming a friend to him, while others tried stay away from Y/N. Most didn’t dare to approach the only heir of their kingdom, others knew he was a bit of a troublemaker and stayed away from him because of it.

Y/N caught himself missing Eret from time to time. While he was annoying and infuriating at best, Y/N couldn’t help but think it was more enjoyable than spending his time alone surrounded by people around his age.

Every now and again his thoughts would always jump back to Eret. Hell, he even once considered writing him a letter before he stopped in his tracks, realizing what he was about to do. Silently chastising himself for it.

Y/N graduated when he was twenty. His parents amazed by his progress threw compliments towards his improved behavior.

“Guess Prince Eret was the problem all along.” His mother noted.

He scoffed, of course Eret was the majority of the reason for the problems. His mother only needed to mention him and Y/N already felt the same annoyance from back then again. Guess some things never change.

It was the time for a lot of nobles to graduate so one family took it up on themselves to prepare a grand ball in order to celebrate these young adults. It also helped to bring all the heirs and influential people together to form new relationships that could be beneficial for their future rule.

Y/N got invited as well.

As a graduation gift his parents bought him fancy new clothes made out of the finest cloth. While he thought it was a bit over the top, it was comfortable so he didn’t complain too much. They even fashioned him with a ceremonial crown that complimented the whole outfit quite nicely.

It was only then that it really sunk in what this all meant for him. He had to act proper no matter what from now on. While people were always aware of him, now they were really watching. This also meant he had to start to properly get into contact with other influential families and nations which meant he had to actually dance on this ball.

So when he and his family stepped out of the wagon that brough them to this event, his heart was beating fast. Y/N was nervous and yet he still managed to put on a confident smile. He didn’t go through all these etiquette classes without learning a few things at least.

When he walked into the ball room, a servant announced his and his families arrival which caused a lot of people to turn their heads. It was the first official outing of an heir to an incredibly strong nation, of course they wanted to see what he was like.

In fact it didn’t take long until Y/N got swarmed by multiple people talking courteously and making conversation with him. He returned the gestures and mingled with the others, curious to see if anyone interesting was here. It was the first time in a long time people didn’t seem to avoid him, even if it was purely for the purpose of forming new beneficial connections.

It beat sitting around alone.

Y/N slowly scanned the huge room with his eyes that’s when he spied something that made his heart figuratively jump into his throat.

In the corner stood someone tall with a shock of brown and fluffy hair that got pushed down by a crown. He wore an amazing suit made out of silk and with a variant of different purples completed with something that resembled a cape. As he talked to the person in front of him he had this huge, genuine, beautiful smile on his face that made Y/N’s heart skip a beat.

He was handsome that’s all he could say about him. Knocking all the air out of Y/N’s lungs.

Pressing his hand against his madly blushing face Y/N tried to look like he was deep in thought and not just silently checking out this one person way off in the corner.

“Be still my beating heart.” Y/N mumbled as he pressed his free hand on his chest. Feeling his heart beating fast and hard against his ribcage. Luckily no one heard him but he did receive a few worried and confused looks. Guess he wasn’t as sneaky about his display of emotions as he had thought.

Y/N took a deep breath in and coughed in order to calm himself down a bit “I’m sorry to interrupt you all, but I need to go. I need to find something out. It was an honor talking with you and I hope we can continue this later on.”

With all the confidence he didn’t have Y/N slowly made his way towards that person. Something was just pulling him towards him and he needed to at least know his name. It was like his heart and mind both yelled at Y/N.

While walking he could tell that his breath was short. He felt hot and he was certain that his face was still in a lovely shade of red.

Did he just develop a probably one sided crush? Perhaps.

Once he got close enough, he begun to tremble. His knees felt weak and by god he wanted to turn around but something in him just forced him to move on. As if this was his only chance to ever exchange even a word with that stranger.

Y/N was about to put on a polite smile and wave towards him but the stranger was faster and turned towards him.

The stranger audibly and unmistakably gasped. His eyes wide open as his face suddenly turned into a similar shade of red to Y/N.

“Hello.” Y/N begun speaking. He wanted to introduce himself but his voice failed him. Throat and lips dry out of nervousness.

“Y/N?” he spoke with a deep, soothing voice and Y/N had to admit he liked hearing his name coming out of his mouth.

Wait that handsome stranger knew him?

That’s when it hit him. But that can’t be! That was impossible, he would have recognized him immediately!

“Oh. Eret?”

Y/N put his hand against his mouth trying to hide the smile and blush. Why was he feeling like this? Why wasn’t his typical white anger returning? He still had that fuzzy feeling in the pit of his stomach but something felt different. Maybe it was the maturity from the years or maybe he just imagined it.

Eret was madly blushing and just staring at Y/N as he slowly lifted up his trembling hand “Let’s talk. Would you care for a dance?”

That feeling in his stomach increased as well as the beating of his heart and yet Y/N put his hand into that of Eret’s. Together they walked towards the middle of the room. Slowly beginning to dance.

Y/N was at this point biting his lip. He wanted to talk, say anything but his mind was running in overdrive. No proper sentences would form. Luckily some sort of muscle memory jumped in when it came to the dancing but everything else? No, he was completely screwed.

Why now? Why was he reacting like this?

“You look like you are doing well.” Eret suddenly spoke. His voice trembling almost as much as his hands.

Y/N nodded as he continued moving in tandem with Eret. Their feet skillfully moving around on the dance floor.

“You look good, uh, I mean, you look alright as well, you do look good but I mean you seem to be doing good as well.” After Y/N stammered that out he mentally begun cursing himself out.

He used to wrestle Eret into the mud, why is this happening to him? Why can’t he just go back to his anger, that was easier to deal with. Wait, is that the reason why their anger towards each other held on for so long? Sure, their families had always a rivalry but over time something must have subtly changed concerning their relationship that it managed to end up like this.

Y/N felt like a lovesick pre-teen and he hated it.

Eret suddenly let out a short laugh “I’m guessing you didn’t expect this as well?”

Y/N raised his eyebrows “I- I have no idea what you mean. Like, seriously, what exactly of this do you mean?” Of course his nervousness showed itself via him ranting his thoughts off.

“Us meeting like this again.”

“Seeing our past track record I feel like it was inevitable, though this time it certainly does feel different.”

“Yeah, I can tell.” Eret smirked and gave Y/N a wink only to end up turning back into a blushing mess himself.

Now Y/N begun to chuckle, his blush ever present on his face, he pressed his forehead against Eret’s shoulder. Trying his best to hide his face from his view, not willing to give Eret the satisfaction that he succeeded in whatever the hell he just did.

Instead of stopping the two continued to dutifully dance. The best way for a private conversation was while dancing after all but the two were too busy snickering at themselves.

While Y/N had his head still pressed against Eret, Eret spoke up “I’m glad you are here, Y/N. Meeting you here like that again after these years, it made me realize something.”

“Like what?” The same was true of him, of course but he was almost scared of saying it out loud.

Y/N looked back up again but Eret hesitated. His eyes landed on Y/N’s lips only to immediately snap back up to his eyes.

So when he asked “May I?” Y/N knew exactly what he meant.

He gave him a nod which resulted in the two stopping to dance. Eret placed one of his hands against Y/N’s jawline and the other continued to rest at his side as he closed the space between their lips. At first softly brushing their lips for a small second but then Eret went back in pressing his lips properly on Y/N’s only to separate after a few moments.

Y/N put his hands on Eret’s chest, feeling his rapidly beating heart beneath his fingertips “I thought you hated me.” He noted smugly.

Eret laughed “I guess we both were wrong in some way.” He immediately dove back into Y/N’s lips, deepening the kiss, ignoring the confused and surprised noises from all the other guests.

#mcyt x reader #mcyt reader insert #mcyt fanfiction #mcyt x Y/N #mcyt x male reader #dream smp x male reader #dream smp reader insert #dream smp fanfiction #dream smp x reader #dream smp x Y/N #dsmp x male reader #dsmp reader insert #dsmp fanfiction #dsmp x reader #the eret #eret smp #eret dsmp #the eret x Reader #the eret x Y/N #reader insert #ramza writes #🌱🌟-anon #🌱🌟

[mrpenguinpants]

Genshin: Mythos AU - Cat Xiao

Dancer Xiao? I’ve never heard of that but to be fair, I don’t really get out much. Cat Xiao Dancer tho 👀 This is valid and I fully accept it. I wrote a University AU a while back and if I ever make a part 2, I’d love to brainrot on this dancer idea. Speaking of, since I just started another royalty/mythos AU and I think this idea could slide into that.

Alright let me crack my knuckles a bit. You’ve got my brainworms running.

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Xiao Semi Series

[ Friendship ] [ Falling in Love ] [ Cuddles ] [ Protective ] [ Affection ] [ Jealously ] [ Opposites Attract ] [ String Of Fate (Soulmate) ] [ Fainting ] 

[ Genshin: Royalty AU ]

[Masterlist]

Note: The royalty and mythos AU aren’t completely connected together. But I am definitely taking ideas from each other.

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[taglist]  <- if you want to be added, please read this first.

 @mikeysbike @unionwitch @musekala @sunnshiii @stanzastic @akaasea @xoneaboveallx @adoring-ghost @asheseiler @childelover @dilucsz @dai-tsukki-desu @thicmitten @nonniechan @htnicayh @genshins1mpact @morthecreator @aanne2601 @aklxojjk @fulltimeventisimp @aetherazor @youaskedfurret @snowy224 @mayumintsu @tigerpriestess @yuu-yuukurotsuki @legionqueensav @eva-0403 @blanktide @aaaaalona @castinluckgamer @hanniejji​  

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Mythos AU - Cat Xiao

Xiao was born and raised in the Huan tribe, a clan where its members were born with feline features, but it was an isolated group that was purposefully hidden away from human eyes. While most of the world was friendly towards hybrids, the threat of poachers and trafficking was still high that most hybrid clans hid away from the outside world. There was a misconception that hybrids could bring someone good luck or blessings so they were always hunted down to later sell to wealthy royals. In the case of the Huan, they had the ability to scare away misfortune.

Due to the old traditions and customs the Huan tribe carried, all males were raised to become warriors that could defend the tribe should any corrupted mage or human arrive to capture them. Therefore, Xiao was handed a spear before he even knew how to say his name properly. But surprisingly, Xiao was quite adept at the spear and learned quickly how to use it. He was flexible and nimble on his feet, being able to dash in and out and use his spear as a third extension of his arm to quickly disarm other peers his age. Making sure his tail kept his balance and his dilated eyes were focused on his opponent.

Perhaps it was the overconfidence the clan held in him or how lax the rules had become with the fall of poachers that the one moment Xiao strayed too far from home. He was suddenly enveloped in a pink gas that irritated his eyes and made his limbs drop dead. A mysterious green haired man appeared from under the ground, dirt and roots pushing aside to reveal him, as he smiled sweetly down at the growing Xiao. That sick smile was the last thing Xiao saw before he was knocked out.

When he awoke, he was suddenly thrown into an entirely different land that he wasn’t used to. The Huan was hidden away deep inside a cave of lamp grass that gave the entire area a slow blue glow. High up in the mountains where the air smelled of fresh mint. But there was too much orange and red that Xiao had to close his eyes from the bright and vibrant colours. His cat ears twitching at all the loud noises of people yelling about numbers and products. The stuffy air that was slowly choking him. Xiao tried to pull himself up only to see dendro bindings incasing him and he was still feeling the affects of that gas. He sighed and flopped back and tried to flex his arms into a more comfortable position as he tried to calm himself down. His tail slowly curling around him. Xiao only had a small break before the doors to his cage was suddenly thrown open and he was quickly yanked out of his cage onto the ground. The same mysterious green haired man smiled and nodded at him before turning back to a strange man wearing a mask, dressed in armour, and welding a spear.

Everything was happening too fast, before Xiao could get his bearing he was hauled up and dragged into a strange building and pushed into a room with several woman. There seemed to be a silent conversation he was missing before the woman pushed and pulled him every which way. Shredding his clothes and washing his skin and ears until he was rid of the grime he had been stained with from his “trip”. He was highly uncomfortable with all these foreign people touching him and dressing him but in his drugged out state he couldn’t do much besides trying to bat away hands when they were too forceful on his tail. Until he was finally dressed in a stiffy outfit with a too high collar, he heard it was called a Changshan from one of the woman, and was he lead to a private room and told to behave or else he would be killed on the spot.

At least Xiao had a chance to breathe. To take in his surroundings and bask in the peace and quiet. To think of how he could possibly get out of this situation. He knew how to fight, if he could get his hands on a weapon that those guards had, he might be able to escape and find a way to return to Huan. He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, remembering what his teachers taught him, and opened them determined only to flinch back when a girl his age was already standing in front of him. While Xiao knew his yellow feline eyes were intimidating, this new girls scarlet eyes felt as they were crushing him this invisible pressure. Xiao quickly bit his tongue before it could let out a warning growl and subtly wrapped his tail around his leg in comfort.

It wasn’t until the girl stepped back and sat on a couch that Xiao realized she wasn’t alone. The same guard from before was beside her but his eyes were closed. Directing his attention back to the scarlet-eyed girl, she almost seemed amused at Xiao’s hybrid features. The cute twitches of his ears and nose, but she leaned back and gestured for Xiao to go on. Xiao just stared blankly at her, was he supposed to do something? He was only told to behave lest he be killed but he felt like he was missing something important. The girl tilted her head further and asked if he had any talents, if he knew how to dance perhaps?

Xiao didn’t know the first thing about what dancing meant to this kid, he was raised to know how to weld a spear. He was aware that weapon dancing was a thing, the Huan would always celebrate victories in hunting through spear dancing, but was he even allowed a weapon?

Xiao’s eyes darted towards the guards spear as he pointed towards it. The girl’s scarlet eyes seemed to light up in understanding, Xiao just noticed that her pupils were flower shaped, as she reached over and tugged at the guards sleeve.

“Hand him the spear,” the girl said as she pointed at the weapon in his hands and then back to Xiao. The guard just stared at her incredulously as the cheerful demeanor the girl held suddenly vanished as her face scrunched into an disgusted and annoyed expression. She reached over and yanked the spear out of the guards hand before tossing it to Xiao who scrambled to catch it before it ended up stabbing him in the foot.

“Was that so hard? You may go now. Bye bye!” she said as he proceeded to push the man out despite his protests, “Don’t you have anything important to do that isn’t here? Just go stand outside or something. Are you saying I can’t defend myself? I might poison your food if you say that you know!”

As she basically threw the man out and closed the door. She pattered her clothes down and re-adjusted her hat before turning around as she grinned at Xiao. Returning to her seat on the couch, she crossed her legs, folder her hands on top of her knees, and laid back as she nodded for him. 

“Now, go on. I’m interested to see what you can do. Impress me kitty.”

Xiao could feel a very thin thread inside him snap at the nickname but tried to keep his emotions in check. His teachers always said he had a short fuse and one day it would get him in trouble. He was in an unknown place, surrounded with enemies, and he could feel that the drug wasn’t fully out of his system. So he stepped back to give him more room as he twirled the spear in his hands. It was similar to the Qiang spears he used back at home. Xiao breathed in deeply, breathed out, as he took his stance and raised the spear in front of him. The girl began clapping a tempo as he twirled and danced with the spear. Stepping in and out and thrusting the spear forward. At the last second, as he was twirling the spear over his shoulder, Xiao’s eyes dilated as he rolled the weapons off his neck and into his hands and thrusts it at the clapping girl. It didn’t surprise anyone when the girl’s grin turned wider as she kicked her leg out to knock the spear out of Xiao’s hand before she caught it. The girl simply studied the spear, the weight of it, before turning her gaze back to Xiao. He was standing with his arms crossed and looking at her unimpressed.

"Excellent performance," the girl nodded as she laid the spear on her lap to clap for him but when she didn’t get any change from Xiao she slowly stopped her clapping, looking at him confused. 

“Why did you send that man away if you knew this would happen?” Xiao questioned. If her flower pupils didn’t give it away he could feel in the air that she was the same as him. A hybrid of some sort. 

“Only an idiot would do something like that so I wanted to see if you would actually do it! You’ve managed to impress me which means you get to live,” the girl clapped her hands once more as if that was something Xiao should be happy about, “Isn’t that nice? One more day of freedom, well until Zhongli get’s his hands on you. Then you might be in a little trouble...”

“Wait hang on. What is going on? Where am I and who is Zhongli? Who are you?” Xiao quickly intercepted before the girl could go off on another tangent. Could he get a quick five minute break and have someone explain what the hell was happening? Didn’t this girl know he was basically drugged and kidnapped? Should that be something that communities deemed as wrong?

“Oh you poor Kitty. No one bothered to explain anything? This week is Golden week where everyone in Liyue is trying to tie the knot. Zhongli has preferred taste and as his trusted advisor, Hu Tao, it’s my job to select the most eligible spouse,” Hu tao nodded to herself after finishing her explanation. There was a beat of silence as Hu Tao blinked and looked back at Xiao. His ears and tail were stiff as a board as his mind was slowly processing the information. He blinked at her. Once. Twice. Before proceeding to pass out.

---

This is not what you asked for and yet I still delivered. I just started writing and it became gay. I don’t even watch dramas but if this isn’t a plot to one. I’m going to be very disappointed. Every time I write Cat!Xiao it’s another drama. Feel free to sub anyone out for reader. I just wanted to stick to the lore and AU.

If you’re interested in the terms or the “lore” behind this AU. I added a read more below:

Disclaimer: I am not a Chinese historian so there is probably something wrong here.

Huan (讙)

Found on the Yiwang Mountains, a cat with the same build as a small mountain lion or lynx, except it has one eye and three tails. According to ancient depictions, the Huan cat has the uncanny ability to scare away misfortune.

Qiang

The most common long-handled spear used by Chinese soldiers. It is one of the earliest known battle weapons and was known as “the king of a thousand soldiers”.

Changshan

Similar to what Xingqiu wears, Changshan were introduced to China during the Qing dynasty. Changshan were a formal dress for Chinese men before Western-style suits became common in China. They are traditionally worn for formal pictures, weddings, and other formal Chinese events.

Adepti vs Yaksha

The Adepti and Yaksha are two different social classes. In this mythos AU, your worth and reputation is based on your celestial powers. Adepti are people that are reincarnations of celestial beings and can change into their animal variant.  Meanwhile, Yaksha’s are people blessed by celestial beings. They only have the animal features and are weaker in terms of power. Yaksha’s are still powerful compared to a human but due to the misconceptions in Liyue, Yaksha’s are treated as possessions. Yes, this will change (if I write more on this AU) because equality is hot.

Hu Tao

To be fair, I originally wrote this as Zhongli talking to Xiao but it didn’t really make sense to me. Her role and relationship to Zhongli is similar to the genshin lore where she’s a massive headache to him. But Hu Tao knows how to do her job and is one of the few people that talks back to Zhongli that he appreciates her existence. She still has to walk the line carefully lest she actually offend him and get herself killed. She admires people like herself, people that aren’t afraid to stand up for themselves or surprise her, and she has a lot of fun pushing people to reach that state. She’s not very well liked because of this.

Zhongli

I’m going to say it. I fully believe Zhongli used to be a piece of shit before he met Guizhong. Maybe not intentionally but he doesn’t understand emotions or what empathy is. In this AU, he has some amount of capability to express himself except they are all entitled because he genuinely believes he is the strongest. He’s not inherently evil, just very trapped in his own world and understanding, and everyone is too scared to correct him. Besides Hu tao of course. 

Baizhu

He’s a questionable doctor that works beside Zhongli. Just so long as Zhongli doesn’t poke his nose into his experiments, he doesn’t care what Zhongli does and vice versa. But because Zhongli is technically his boss, he’ll go and do some dirty work for whoever peaks Zhongli’s interest.

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This entire AU is my call out post for Mihoyo to drop more lore bombs. If you won’t give me the lore then I’ll write it myself. My request box is still closed but at this point, if you give me something to think about I’ll probably write it. 

#genshin #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin imagines #genshin impact imagines #genshin headcanons #genshin impact headcanons #genshin fanfic #genshin impact fanfiction #genshin xiao #genshin impact xiao #xiao #genshin xiao x reader #genshin impact xiao x reader #xiao x reader #xiao imagines #xiao headcanons #genshin au #genshin impact au #genshin mythos au #cat xiao #genshin zhongli #genshin impact zhongli #zhongli x xiao #xiao x zhongli #genshin baizhu #genshin impact baizhu #genshin hu tao

[astro-rain]

delicate; b.barnes

chapter fourteen - “pinky promise”

delicate masterlist

word count: 2.1k

synopsis: bucky and the reader reconvene after the events of the previous night, figuring out what they need to do from there. pinky promises are endearing but they don’t prevent the effects of distressed regret & emotional frustration.

pairings: bucky barnes x fem!reader

She awoke with wet regret staining her cheeks. She remembered falling asleep with shame, liquid guilt seeping out of her eyes. Slowly and silently weeping herself to sleep while drunk. What a colossal fucking mistake she made. She felt terrible, and she could only imagine how Bucky felt. She needed to apologize. Immediately.

She found that her shoes were still on when she got out of bed.

"Oh, Christ," she huffed at her messiness.

Regardless, she grabbed a jacket for protection from the chilly Wakandan morning air before rushing to the door, determined to find Bucky as soon as possible and apologize profusely for the previous night.

She opened the door but before she could dash out, she smacked directly into what felt like hard wood. Wait, no. The "hard wood" was a chest, and that chest belonged to a person... it was Bucky. Damn it.

"Sorry!" the two exclaimed simultaneously.

They both backed up.

"Y/N..."

"Bucky."

"Can we talk?"

"Yes. Please."

They awkwardly made their way into the room, eventually sitting side by side on the end of her bed. The air was quiet and void of their usual content and lighthearted atmosphere. Both of them sat staring straight forward.

"Bucky, I... I am so sorry about last night. I know being drunk isn't an excuse for being unprofessional, but I really have no other explanation as to why I'd ever do something so inappropriate. I feel awful and I can't imagine how uncomfortable I've made you. I will completely understand if you don't want to work with me anymore. I can talk to Shuri or T'Challa and we can find someone else to take my place if—"

"Woah," he turned to her, slightly alarmed. "Slow down, slow down. Who said anything about replacing you?"

"Well, I just thought after...last night, you'd rather have someone else work with you. It probably wouldn't be wise to continue treatment with me after certain... professional boundaries have been damaged."

"I'm not working with anyone else."

She looked at him bewildered, but he looked dead serious.

Y/N shook her head. "I—"

"Look, I'm not a therapist and I don't know the criteria of your 'professional boundaries'... But you were drunk. It happens. I don't think any less of you because you had a little too much. Believe me, I've been there."

"I know, but it's not necessarily the drinking that was the problem. It was... my actions."

"Right. And I don't think leaning a couple inches is really grounds for leaving Wakanda."

It was more than just "leaning a couple inches," and she knew that. She was humiliated by her drunken errors, but it was seductively dizzying to be that close to him. In the moment, she relished in every second, every atom of hers that was touching him. However, it was the afterthought that was the problem, the realization of what she had done and how wrong it was.

"Bucky..."

"I'm not working with anyone else."

"I'm not the only good therapist, you know."

"But you're my therapist. I don't want a new one."

"And I don't want to disrupt your progress, but there's no way I can keep treating you after last night."

"Why not? What's gonna happen if you do? Nothing."

"It's not that simple."

"Nobody was here. No one knows but us. There's no way you can get into trouble."

"It's not entirely about getting in trouble. It's about the nature of our relationship and how that change can impact how effectively and ethically I can treat you."

He was quiet for a minute, thinking.

He shook his head, looking down at his feet. "We can work something out..."

"I don't think so, Buck..."

"So you're just gonna leave then?"

"I think that's what needs to happen."

He turned his head to her, making deliberate eye contact.

"Y/N, please."

"All I wanna do is do right by you, and I can't do that after I've compromised our relationship."

"But you didn't compromise—"

"Bucky," she exasperated, "Can you please try to understand?"

"Can you please try not to be so hasty about things? Our relationship is fine. You don't need to leave."

Stubborn. He was being stubborn. But, all she could see was strong will and passion. That was the problem. All his faults morphed into aptitudes when they filtered through her perception.

"I really care about you, Buck. I just want you to have access to the help you need, and as much as I hate to say it, I don't know if I can be that help anymore."

"Can't we just try?"

"Try what?"

"Just... hear me out. We can continue the sessions as if nothing happened, and if everything is fine, then great, but if not, then you can go."

Is that what it would take for him to be okay with her leaving? Is that what it would take to make her departure less of a complete upheaval? There was no way this would work, she thought. But what were the lengths to which she would go to make the transition smoother? Was she willing to make sacrifices to help ease his hardships? She reflected for a minute.

For him, she would. For him, she considered, she'd do most anything.

"Okay," she said after brief contemplation. "We can try. But you have to keep in mind, the entire time, that I still might have to leave in the end."

He smiled, sincerity almost suffocating her. "Thank you."

"Promise me you won't be disappointed if I end up having to leave."

"You want a pinky, blood oath, or spit shake?" he asked, jokingly.

"Bucky," Y/N deadpanned.

"Well, it's not like we need to promise, because you won't have to leave... 'cause everything will be fine."

God, she hoped so.

"Promise me anyway. Just in case."

"Fine. I promise. You have my word."

She held out her hand to him, pinky finger raised high.

"Make it official."

"You know I was kidding?" he asked.

"I know. But you brought it up, so now you're payin' the price," she smiled, feeling herself momentarily slipping back into their dynamic. "Officially promise me with your pinky, James."

In acquiescence, he lifted his hand up to hers, pinky extended, and wrapped their fingers together. As it turned out, her hand had desires of its own and begged for additional contact. It yearned to smooth over the skin of Bucky's hand and press their palms together. Her hand wanted to intertwine the rest of their fingers and hold on ever so tightly. It wanted to hold on and never leave Wakanda, never leave his side.

As it also turned out, the hand is not the mind. These were surely not Y/N thoughts. Definitely not... Desires were kept repressed and no actions were taken. Sorry hand.

Their fingers stayed connected for just a few brief seconds of silence. Not nearly long enough for it to be awkward or for them to get second thoughts about the integrity of their agreement. Their fingers disconnected.

"So..." Bucky started, "are things gonna be weird now? With us?"

"They don't have to be, but I guess it depends."

"On what?"

"I don't know. Whether you're upset with me over what happened - which you have every right to be."

"Upset with you? No! Not at all. It seems like you're more upset than I ever was."

"I'm only upset because of what I did!"

"Well, I'm only upset because you're upset, so... stop being upset."

"I-..." she sighed. "Okay. I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry too. Are we good?"

"You don't have anything to be sorry for..."

"Just say we're good."

She let out a nervous laugh.

"Fine, we're good. I'm just surprised at how you're so cool with this."

"Well, friends bounce back quick, right?"

Her demeanor changed. The mood sunk.

"Bucky..."

"No, no. Don't sit there and tell me that now we aren't friends. You just pinky swore with me," he said with a meek smile, attempting to lift her mood back up. "C'mon, that counts for something."

She looked down at her hands, suddenly missing the skin-to-skin contact. "I just think it might be better to be more professional and less... personal."

"Better for who exactly? 'Cause I know it wouldn't be for me."

She turned her head to look at him, face earnest and contrite. He only looked confused and a little mentally disheveled.

"I want to make this new... plan thing work. If you don't want me to have to leave, we have to reinstate some sort of boundaries, Buck."

"So boundaries means throwing away being friends?"

"I'm not throwing it away. I want to make sure we can be successful, and to be successful we have to be a little more..." she took a breath in, hating how much she kept bringing up this word, "professional. We gotta have more good days than bad, you know?"

A few beats of silence passed them by. Bucky's expression softened to a dangerous level of sincerity.

"I think you are my good days..."

Y/N tore her gaze away. She couldn't do this. She wished he wouldn't say such gentle things; she was trying so hard. The tension in her heart began to frustrate her. And it was because of him. She wished her emotions weren't always so escalated in his proximity.

"How long were you outside for?" she changed the subject.

"All night."

"What?!"

"Just kidding. Only for a couple minutes. Why are you changing the subject?"

"I'm not."

"You really are. And you're uneasy."

Trying to deny feelings was harder when someone else called them out.

"Stop trying to analyze me."

"M'not analyzing. I'm just reading you."

Reading her?

"Reading me?"

"Yeah. You were looking at me, but now you turned away. You're bouncing your leg but otherwise you're completely still, tense, like you are when you're nervous. You're also turned away from me... kinda like you don't wanna be near me."

Yeah, because her heart felt like it was going to burst.

She stood up, walking away from him and his infuriating correctness. How dare he know her like that? Anger bubbled in her stomach. She faced him, arms crossed over her chest, as if shielding herself from his prying efforts to understand her personality. How dare he decipher her.

"Really?" she huffed, amped up nervousness morphing into irritation. "You barely slept last night, and it's not just noticeable because of the bags under your eyes. You do this thing when you're tired - you blink really slowly and then rub your eyes. It's subtle. How's that for reading? Oh, and you're more uncomfortable about having one arm than you let on. When you sit next to me, you always make sure to sit so that your arm is on my side. In fact, you're so bad at tolerating uncomfortable that you refuse to even think about getting a new therapist - even though it's the right thing to do - because you don't want to deal with the change."

She took a breath after expelling her vexation. Bucky stared at her with wide eyes, never before hearing her angry, much less at him.

"That's not why..." he all but whispered.

"You know I can tell when you're lying, right?"

"Apparently not," he rolled his eyes. "And I thought we made a deal."

"I think you should leave."

He looked up at her. "Y/N.."

She turned away from him, deciding she couldn't handle looking him in the eyes.

Glancing at the door, she muttered, "I'll see you at our next session."

"But— I thought..."

"A deal's a deal. I'll see you, Bucky."

The room was eerily silent until Bucky decided to move. She could feel his eyes on her, searching for something, anything out of her. Perhaps she was hasty, but there was no room for second thoughts, second emotions. She completely steeled herself. Feeling around him was just... a lot. A lot to deal with. Maybe too much.

"Okay," he said, voice quiet. "I'll see you... I guess."

With that, he left. He left her in an empty room with empty feelings and an empty hand. She looked down at that hand, the very same one that wrapped its finger around his in the lighthearted simplicity of a juvenile gesture. Joy with Bucky was like that - simple. Being happy was effortless with him. Yet, it was so troublesome to be displeased with him. She could sense another distressed night sleep coming her way.

delicate taglist: @bakugouswh0r3 @thefridgeismybestie @strivingforelegance @ilovespideyyy @xpurpleglitter @bluelakeee @darkacademic2 @nickkie1129 @eclipsedplanet @paradisedixon @crazy-beautiful @coffee--writes @lauxrens @lilithknight1111 @buckybarnesishot310 @softladyhours @alwayssandy @quxxnxfhxll @those-sea-green-eyes @hero-ically @devilswaldorf @cc13723things @buckys1thiccbih @maravderofthephoenix

#bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #marvel #bucky fic #bucky headcanon #bucky reader insert #steve rogers #bucky x y/n #bucky blurb #bucky drabble #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes delicate #black panther #winter solider edit #marvel fanfic rec #marvel fanfiction #bucky imagine #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #captain america fanfiction

[stephspurs]

A Family Affair | Euro 2020 Football Fanfiction

hey besties!! here is part 8! Part 8 see's Amelia in a change of colours, her friendship with Jorgi explored more, an awkward Chelsea player and a cheeky Villa boy. Please enjoy & send me your thoughts! Love always, Steph xx

Part 8. | parte otto

word count;  1569 writing tools; third person until dashed line, first person thereafter. next update; Wednesday 11/08 5pm AEST. Updates are three times/week (Monday, Wednesday & Friday)! tags (as requested by users); @footballffbarbiex @obsesseds-world @abysshaven link to fic masterlist here

Landing in the rarely-sunny but always wonderful London town, Amelia was swiftly picked up from the airport by a man in a blacked out Mercedes van and driven away to her new club-appointed accommodation in the royal borough of Kensington and Chelsea. The 24 year old couldn’t help but feel a sense of home resonating through her body. Yes, Italy was also her home for the last 3 years, but there was something in the air in London that really made her believe that this is where she was meant to be.

Whilst happy that her quintessentially-British townhouse was a mere stones throw from Stamford Bridge and her family home just on the other side of the park in Holland Park she was still a 30+ minute commute, without traffic & one way, from Cobham. Beggars can’t be choosers, at least this way she was close to the hustle and bustle of London City, as well as her family and old friends.

A few days had passed since her talk with Fede, her swift departure from bella Italia saw only a small gathering occur at her apartment with some of the juventus boys on the eve before her flight. Constant check-ins from La Cosa Nostra whatsapp group chat, of course the word had spread to the rest of the Italian national team before she had even returned home from Fede’s place, meant that she was never left alone to her thoughts for too long.

Keeping the promise he had made when she phoned to tell him the news, Jorgi was knocking on her front door at 7:30am the following Monday morning, ready to drive the both of them to Cobham for Amelia’s first full day of work. He was the only person who knew she was taking this offer, other than the professional staff at Chelsea FC who had to organise her contract, so it was very much a nerve-wracking drive to the suburban training ground.

“Sapevo che stavi bene con il blu Azzurri, ma il blu Chelsea è un'altra benedizione che mi è stata conferita” (i knew you looked good in Azzurri blue, but Chelsea blue is another blessing bestowed upon me) Jorgi exclaimed as she opened the door to his car and slid in, having stopped right in front of her house in a no-park zone.

“Morning Jorgi, Thanks so much for picking me up - i’ll sort out a car this weekend i suppose”

“It's not a problem, I'm only a couple of streets away anyway so it's not out of my way.”

The pair caught up on the past couple of weeks without each other, speaking on the Fede situation and Amelia’s feelings. The best thing about Jorgi was how he was able to see both sides of the story. He valued Amelia's opinion and feelings as much as his long-time friend, Fede. He knew how hard it was for both parties to come to an amicable separation & he was making a mental note to call his italian pal to thank him for letting the girl go.

Amelia’s first day at Cobham was heavily administrative, spending a lot of time sorting out paperwork, meeting the team of staff she would be joining, getting her uniform, sorting out her office. After a quick bite to eat with the head analyst, Paolo (she just couldn’t seem to escape the Italians altogether), she collected her leather bound notebook and followed her colleague to the first team wing of Cobham. Whilst she was strictly working with the first team, she had expressed interest early on & stipulated it in her formal acceptance, that she wanted the opportunity to work with the academy players and the freedom to dip into the talent pool of Chelsea youth, to assist in perfecting her tactical plays.

She couldn’t deny that the blue of her uniform was the perfect shade to bring out the blue in her more-often-than-not grey eyes, she felt comfortable in it, she felt part of the team. Pushing open the door ahead of them, Paolo stood to the side like a true gentleman and gestured to Amelia through the door first.

______________________________________________________________

Walking in, I noticed that the scene in front of me was similar to the first time I met with some of these players. With their backs to me, facing the front, listening to every word that Tuchel was saying to them. I snuck in, stood to the side and waited for my introduction which came very shortly after.

“I want you all to meet the new tactical analyst that the club has appointed following a very successful european campaign this past summer, Amelia White” Thomas directed towards me, and just like that, a slight bit of deja-vu settled in as i watched 30+ sets of eyes turn to look at me. Some were happy to see me, some were polite and offered a small smile, and just one set looked a little shocked and very guilty.

“I trust you all will treat her with the respect that you show me, Paolo and all other members of this professional staff. We had to fight tooth and nail for this girl to join us and I can’t express how lucky we all are to be learning from her.” Tuchel dismissed his team, Jorgi pushing through the chairs to get to me.

“Amelia! What a surprise! Why didn’t you tell me about this!” Jorgi rushed over to me and wrapped me in a hug that I didn't return. Less than impressed with the boy's antics and sarcasm.

“Oh be quiet, you drove us both here today.” I spoke with a smile and rolled my eyes.

“Always the trouble maker Jorgi!” Mason Mount spoke from behind him.

“Amelia, nice to see you again! Can’t believe you didn’t tell us in the group chat!” Mason continued as he greeted me hello.

“Haha yeah, it all happened very quickly & to be honest, my decision wasn’t final until a couple of days ago. I had a few opportunities and I had to weigh up my options, Chelsea were willing to go a bit above the other clubs so it became obvious. Besides, someone once told me I would look good in the Chelsea blue” That someone also being the person who avoided my messages, and who is currently avoiding my eyes.

Later that evening.

“As if I deserved to know you picked the blues on sky sport?” Jack questioned the girl over facetime that evening, keeping their friendship tradition alive and cooking together.

“It all happened so quickly Jack, I was in talks with a few clubs and there was a bit of a tussle and negotiation stage and then I just had to pick one. Chelsea offered me the opportunity to foster the youth team talent and no one else was willing to cross-contaminate their professional staff” Amelia hurried down the phone, afraid that she hurt the brummie lad’s feelings.

“Calm down Mils, it's fine! I’m only playin wiv’ya. I’m happy for you - and me too, now I can come visit ya and have a place to stay in the city” He joked back to her. Jack had a certain way of calming the girl down, he reminded her a lot of Fede. He could read her before she came to terms with her own thoughts and feelings.

“Are you trying to tell me that you, with all of your friends and all of your money, need to rely on little old me for a place to stay in the city?” The joking tone went back to normal with the two flirtatious friends.

“No, I'm just saying that I'm happy you’re in the city. Ya know, it’s only a 2 hour drive. I could easily come down on a Friday after training and be back before a Sunday game…”

“2 hours is far too long to be in the car just to spend the day with me”

“That's where you’re wrong, it would be two nights and one whole day. Besides, 2 hours in the car is better than having to fly to get to you. I was prepared to do the latter anyway before your big move back to London” Oh did her heart swoon inside her chest, a quick blush spread across her cheeks and a little chuckle left her lips - unable to find the right words to say back to him.

Amelia knew the dangers of the situationship, this was exactly how it happened with Fede. She couldn’t help that she was naturally playful and flirtatious, she often didn't know she was doing it. Normal conversations to her often appeared like a hardcore flirt-fest to anyone who happened to be around the girl. She didn’t want to cross that line with Jack, she knew better than to do that, especially with how she hurt Fede in the end. She didn’t know where she was going to be in a few years, nor where he was going to be.

What she also recognised in the older lad that Fede also possessed, and she would be surprised if he didnt considering he is a professional football player, is that he was determined. Too determined that sometimes it was more about the chase and the challenge, rather than the aftermath or the reward. She knew Jack wouldn’t give up on her and would always be there for her. Was it bad that she enjoyed it?

Part 9. | nona parte

#tumblr tags #football imagine #football fic #jadon sancho #ben chilwell #mason mount #declan rice #ben white #jack grealish #tyrone mings #kyle walker #ben chilwell imagine #jack grealish imagine #mason mount imagine #football one shot #tyrone mings imagine #x reader #a family affair fic #steph writes #stephspurs #italian national team #jorginho #federico bernardeshci #jorginho imagine #bernardeschi imagine #juventus fic #juventus imagine #italy nt imagine #england nt imagine #three lions imagine

[heliads]

One Moves On Chapter Four: Crow Rock

Stiles Stilinski doesn’t know what to think when he’s taken by the Ghost Riders. He’s grateful to be joined by Y/N L/N, although when he finally escapes, no one seems to remember her at all.

previous / series masterlist / next

Now that he’s finished his research, Stiles isn’t sure what to do next. Does he drive over in a fit of glory and bad decision making, hope to find Y/N and pray she hasn’t left before he gets there? Does he risk traveling without a pack to one of the areas with the most supernatural activity other than Beacon Hills? 

In the end, Stiles decides to just go. Deliberating and hesitating won’t do him any good, not when Y/N is still out there, weaponless and with no idea where she is. Stiles spends a haphazard half hour running about his house, trying to put together supplies he might need for the trip, before finally stumbling over to his Jeep.

When he finally makes it out, keys clutched in his hand, Scott is waiting for him.

His best friend is leaning up against the driver’s side door, arms folded across his chest. Stiles’ steps falter. “You knew I was going?” Scott lifts a shoulder. “Your dad called me, said he was worried. We knew you’ve been concerned about Y/N, but we didn’t know that you would go this far. Where are you going, Stiles?”

Stiles holds up a hastily printed map. “Actually, I’m going to a town called Crow Rock. Good supernatural activity, and I followed the law of triangles-” Stiles’ voice dies off as he takes in the look on Scott’s face. “The law of triangles, which is a very reputable law from a very reputable manuscript which we all know about. Right. Well, I know how it sounds but trust me, it’s going to be alright.”

Scott sighs. “I want to believe you. Honestly, I do. But Y/N died months ago. You have to know that. I didn’t even know you cared this much about her. I’d call it grief, but you watched her die some time ago. She’s already buried.” Stiles frowns at him. “Is she? Where?” Scott fumbles for a moment. “Uh, in some cemetery.” Stiles presses his advantage. “Which cemetery? If we saw her buried, where is she?”

Scott’s brow furrows, and he stares at Stiles in bewilderment. “I can’t remember. I know where Allison and Aiden and all the others are buried, but I don’t know where she is.” Stiles throws his hands in the air. “This is exactly what I’m talking about. You don’t know because she isn’t dead. We never buried her so of course we can’t remember the cemetery. Scott, you have to believe me. She’s out there somewhere and I have to bring her back.”

Scott’s face softens. “You’re sure this will work? You know where to find her?” Stiles nods fervently. “I’ve done my research. Sometimes, people are pulled away from rifts by something called etheria. I was able to make it back safely from the Wild Hunt, but she wouldn’t. She’s not the first either- these victims, they call them etherials or something, have been disappearing for centuries. I’ve managed to track down another hotspot where she might be located and I think it’s my best shot at finding her.”

Scott nods once, then claps him on the shoulder. “I think you can do it.” Stiles looks up at him. “Really?” Scott smiles trustingly. “From what I’ve heard, you’ve put in a considerable amount of time for research. I think if anyone could track down an etherial who everyone else thinks is dead, it would be you.” Stiles grins. For some reason, hearing his best friend’s belief in him is enough to give Stiles a boost in confidence.

Scott steps away from the door of the Jeep, allowing Stiles access at last. “I just wanted to check with you before you go. To make sure you knew what you were doing.” He glances at the map, taking in the location of the hotspot. “There’s going to be a lot of supernatural trouble there. You sure you don’t want a backup group?” Stiles shakes his head, smiling. “I’m good, thank you. I think this is something I have to do by myself.”

Stiles climbs into the Jeep, giving himself a moment to think. This is it, the last moment before he sets off on his journey. He’s spent so much time preparing that it’s strange to think that this is his stepping off point, the last opportunity he has to back down and say that this is too dangerous, or that the chances are too great that he will fail.

Stiles turns on the ignition in a roar. Scott waves goodbye as the Jeep disappears down the road.

Stiles has only been driving for an hour or so before he notices a shift in the air. It’s not much, barely there, but yet something is not right. It’s like the atmosphere of the car has become quieter, even more silent than before. No one has entered or left the vehicle to warrant this silence, but it’s still enough to make Stiles feel slightly uneasy. He’d felt it a little when he was crossing over the boundary to Beacon Hills, a slight change in the energy as if by leaving he was passing through a barrier of some sort.

Stiles supposes it makes sense- you leave a hotspot, you might notice some change. Stiles doubts he would have noticed it had he not just been taken by the Wild Hunt or even gone without his temporary possession by the Nogitsune. He has a feeling that sensing this change in supernatural activity is an ability usually attributed to the supernatural, and the fact that he, a supposedly ordinary human, can sense it sets Stiles’ teeth on edge.

Stiles becomes aware of another change about fifteen minutes later. He sits up straighter in his seat, trying and failing to figure out what exactly is filling him with unease, and then he sees the sign. It’s faded, paint crumbling off of a metal backing. Even with the weathering of the sign, Stiles can still read the derelict letters: Welcome to Crow Rock. Stiles has made it at last.

The Jeep rumbles on, past the sign and onto the twisting roads. Scott, Lydia, and Malia had told him about visiting Canaan while he was still in the thrall of the Wild Hunt, and how the entire town had given off the uncanny, almost sinister energy of a ghost town. Stiles has no idea what it must have been like to walk those streets, but he has a suspicion that it would be pretty similar to how he feels right now, driving down the blocks and avenues in his truck.

Stiles has looked at images of Crow Rock from larger topographical maps, and realized that the town itself isn’t actually that big. He’d been happy then, thinking that maybe this was one instance of luck for himself and that it might not take as long to search the town for Y/N, but that hope is starting to wither away from him now. The town may be small, yes, with fewer hiding spots, but it also means fewer people to watch him. With fewer bystanders, the chance of supernaturals backing down from a public attack grows slimmer and slimmer with each mile Stiles travels within the town.

Stiles intended to drive to the center of town, where the hotspot of supernatural activity would most likely be the highest. However, as he goes he finds that certain roads are blocked off or congested with traffic that miraculously vanishes a few blocks down. He’s forced to take alternate routes, driving him on a convoluted path away from the entrance. It gives Stiles a sneaking suspicion that he’s being intentionally misrouted, that something is drawing him close.

Stiles has just taken a turn into a new street when he’s forced to come to an abrupt stop. A construction barricade has been laid across the road, orange and white paint signaling that he can travel no further. Stiles checks his rearview mirrors, ready to make a U-turn and get onto another road, when he freezes in place. A group of people is slowly spilling out into the road behind him, and they come to a stop at the main road, blocking off any chance of escape. They all consider Stiles with identical glares. This is not good.

Seeing as he can’t drive anywhere without mowing down this group of people, Stiles turns off the ignition and starts to climb down out of the Jeep. All of his instincts are screaming at him to stay in the car, to not give up the one piece of shelter he still has left, but it’s not like he has much of a choice. At least he’d be able to run on foot- if he remains in the Jeep, he’d just be a sitting duck.

Stiles walks away from the car, coming to a stop a few yards away from the group. One man steps forward, glaring at Stiles with an almost animal rage. “You should not have come here, human. You reek of enemy packs.” Most people would be smart and hold their tongues, choosing to live instead of delivering a supposedly witty retort. Stiles prefers to save his academic success for the tests in school.

“I think it’s kind of mean to go up to people and tell them they smell. I mean, I showered this morning, I can’t be that bad.” The man raises an eyebrow. “You are a human with a death wish, I see. It is not wise to pick a fight that you cannot win.” Stiles shrugs. “I’m just a tourist, man. I can see why your driving tours got such low reviews on Yelp.”

The man scoffs, the sound skidding deep in his throat like the roar of an engine. “I am quickly tiring of you. I will give you one minute to leave this town. If you are not gone by then, you will be dead.” Stiles shakes his head slowly. “I can’t do that. I’m here for someone.” The man roars at him, the sound echoing off of the buildings around them to culminate in a low din of noise. “Then you will die here instead.”

The man charges towards Stiles, claws already starting to extend from his fingers. Stiles takes one look at him and decides to do what he does best: run. He spins on his heels, dashing towards his Jeep with every ounce of energy still left in him. He’s almost there, one hand flung out towards the door, when a werewolf skids to a stop in front of him. It lets out a piercing howl, the sound of an animal about to attack.

Suddenly, a knife slams into its throat, and the wolf slumps sideways. Stiles’ head jerks up as he looks for his savior. A blur of flashing knives and running limbs appears out of nowhere, and a figure grabs the knife from the werewolf’s throat to throw it at another approaching wolf. Then the figure turns to Stiles, and he feels like he could dance with joy.

“Y/N?” She flashes him a grin. “Great to see you. Get in the Jeep.” Stiles doesn’t think twice, diving for the door and throwing himself in. Y/N climbs into the passenger seat, slamming the door closed just before a werewolf can slash her to ribbons. Stiles turns on the ignition, thanking everything holy and then some that the engine doesn’t fail him. He begins the turn to direct his car back towards the road, and then hesitates.

Y/N stares at him. “What are you waiting for? Do you enjoy being killed by enemy packs?” Stiles gestures towards the road. “The werewolves are blocking all the lanes!” Y/N’s eyes widen in something like incredulity. “Then run them over!” Stiles returns her startled gaze. “They’ll wreck my car!” Y/N grabs his hand, forcing it back onto the wheel. “If you stay here, they’ll wreck your car by dragging your dead body out of it and tearing it to shreds. Drive!”

A wolf howls nearby, raising his hand to slash at the metal body of the car. This is enough to motivate him, and Stiles slams a foot on the gas. The Jeep lurches forward, and the werewolves are forced to dive out of the way lest they get flattened by the wheels. The Jeep races around corners and through straightaways before they finally lose the enemy pack and the roads become deserted once more.

Stiles stares at the windshield unseeingly. His hands still shake from the close call. “You know, I don’t think I used my turn signal once during all of this.” There’s a quiet sound next to him, and for a second Stiles thinks that Y/N has started sobbing. Then he looks over and realizes that she’s doubled over in silent laughter. She manages to choke out two words. “Turn signal?”

Stiles stares at her for a second, then starts laughing too. Maybe it’s the thrill of yet another near death experience, or the rush of gratitude that he’s managed to find her at last, but all of a sudden every single thing in the world seems funny. He has to divert his attention back to the road in a jolt lest he run over a suicidal squirrel, which just makes them laugh even harder.

At last, they approach the sign announcing that they will shortly be leaving Crow Rock. Y/N’s laughter dies on her lips as she stares at the sign, then speaks abruptly. “Stop the car.” Stiles stares at her as she jumps out before the wheels have even stopped moving. He puts the car in park just a little bit beyond the sign, then leaps out after her. “What are you doing? Do you like the idea of being slashed to bits by the enemy packs?”

Y/N shakes her head, staring at him with quiet grief. “I can’t leave the town.” Stiles walks back over to her. “What are you talking about?” Y/N looks at him, and Stiles realizes that she doesn’t look afraid or even disappointed. Her face only holds a calm acceptance of a depressing fact. “I can’t leave. I’ve tried before, but the town won’t let me. Look.” She moves to step forward, past the ‘Leaving Crow Rock’ sign, but her feet refuse to budge. It’s as if she’s trying to walk into an invisible wall.

“I’ve tried to leave, ever since I showed up here, but I can’t. It’s like the same magic that brought me here intends on trapping me here forever.” Stiles’ eyes widen. “It’s the etheria. All those manuscripts talked about how people would be yanked away to other hotspots and never return. I thought they just meant that it was the olden days or whatever and that long of a distance was too far to travel without cars or something, but they literally meant that they couldn’t leave.”

Stiles shakes his head, unable to accept this. “I’m not giving up, not now. I’m not losing you again.” Y/N laughs quietly at that. The sound is bittersweet and tears at his heart. “I don’t think you have a choice, Stiles. There’s no way around this.” Stiles’ pulse is thundering in his veins. “No, I’m going to make a choice. Even if I have to do it all myself. No one is supposed to remember the etherials, but I remember you. We’re the exception, Y/N. I am not leaving you again.”

Out of some impulse, Stiles steps forward, wrapping his arms around Y/N and pulling her close. She stiffens for a second, then returns his embrace. After so many days of hearing everyone tell him that she was dead, that she didn’t exist, having her so close is like a dream or an impossibility. They stumble slightly as a strong wind hits them, shifting slightly but not letting go. Y/N gasps quietly, the sound torn away from her chest. Stiles looks at her. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

Y/N shakes her head slightly. “I don’t know. I feel like-” Her eyes widen as she stares at the sign to Crow Rock, the sign that is now behind them. In that brief moment, when they’d moved to avoid the wind, they’d moved over the town barrier. It had just been mere inches, but it was enough. Y/N stares at him in awe. “How did that happen? It’s never happened before.”

Stiles can just smile at her, feeling relief crest over him like a wave. “I told you, didn’t I? We’re the exception. Now, I don’t know about you, but I think I’d like to go home.” She beams at him. “I think I’d like that a lot.” Stiles reaches out, wrapping his hand around hers to guide her back to the car. They’re together at last, and they can finally make their way back to where they belong.

one moves on tag list: @ilikealotofpeople-younotsomuch​, @blahhhhhhhaaa​

#stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski imagines #stiles stilinski x reader #stiles stilinski series #teen wolf #teen wolf imagines #teen wolf x reader #teen wolf series #teen wolf stiles #stiles imagines #stiles x reader #stiles series #stiles stilinski teen wolf

[hargrove-mayfields]

Billy has to stick up for max a lot because of her autism, at school he walks to her class and their afraid of him because just,,, look at him

warnings for mentions of bullying and ableism.

It isn’t easy to make Maxine Mayfield cry.

At least, Billy had almost never seen her shed a tear in the six years he’d known her but maybe two times: once when she was still little, and just learned her step-family was going to move into her house and replace her real dad forever, and once when she was told they would be leaving California. Both times she’d run off to her room and slammed the door before anyone could see, but Billy had noticed. He always did when it came to Max. Had to when he knew damn well how much trouble he’d be in if things went wrong while he was watching her.

Beyond that there were a few teary eyed looks that got wiped away, maybe a sniffle she’d try to cover up by complaining about her allergies, but it was very rare, even during meltdowns, that she’d be full on crying, tears streaming down her face so quickly she couldn’t wipe them away while sobs wrack through her and make her shake.

So Billy knows first thing that something is very, very wrong when she’s already at his car after school, her face buried in her balled up jacket and doing exactly that. He can hear her from outside the car, so he sighs and knocks on the window before he yanks the door open, but Max doesn’t even flinch, just curls up tighter in the passenger seat and ignores him.

That’s a bad sign too, the fact she isn’t even trying to hide it from him, “What’s a’matter Maxi?”

“None of your business.” She snaps at him, voice thick and wet with tears. It’s unfamiliar seeing her like that and it makes Billy feel tense ang guilt even though he didn’t do it this time, so he tries, “Come on. It totally is my business. You get tears on my leather seats n’the salt’ll stain ‘em up, and you’ll be the one to clean it up.”

All it gets from Max is another heavy sob, instantly hitting him with a pang of regret for trying to be light about this, “Shit. M’sorry, Maxi. Didn’t mean it like that. Just tryin’ ta make you smile.”

“Well it didn’t work!” Max sniffles, throwing her jacket on the dash and finally turning to look at Billy, face flushed red and tracked with tears, her bottom lip still wobbling, “I’ll never ever smile again..”

“Why not? I know it’s not just because of your dumbass brother.” Billy sees a twitch at the corner of her lip, the slightest hint of a smile at him insulting himself, and he counts that as a small win, a sign he’s getting at least a little bit through to Max, so he prompts her again, “What happened at school today, Max?”

Her gaze drops to her lap, and she shrugs her shoulders slightly, stiffly, as she mumbles an explanation, “Remember how I told you about that boy, who's mean to me and my friends?”

“‘Course I do. I never forget anythin’ you tell me.”

Max wipes her nose on her sleeve, and corrects him, “Except for when you forgot I told you I had AV club and you came in the school looking for me and then you got stuck talking to a teacher for like, three hours after I was done.”

“Yeah, well that was one time. N’I was already havin’ a bad day when you told me, thank you very much.” He encourages her, his face serious though their tone is light-hearted, “Keep goin’, what’d this kid do now?”

Again Max’s features close off, and she tries to lie, “He was just.. Well it was my fault.. I-I don’t know.”

“Max. I need the truth.”

Talking fast, like she’s fighting against her thoughts, she makes him promise, “Promise me you won’t do anything dumb, first.”

Billy lifts a hand from the steering wheel, “I won’t. Cross my heart, Maxi.”

At this point, in the silence that builds while Max wills herself to speak, Billy starts to drive, since it’s clear he won’t be going back into that school. It isn’t lost on him the way Max takes a deep breath, out of relief that he meant it when he said he wasn’t going to be dumb and march back in there.

Quickly, once she’s ready, she explains, “Okay. Well he kinda sort of told me that I was annoying ‘cause I laugh too much, and I told him it was just a stim n’that I couldn’t help it but he said that made me a baby and I told him I wasn’t and he called me a retard instead and I was already stressed so I started crying like a dumb baby and he laughed at me and none of my friends said anything or helped me and I just.. yeah.”

All Billy can do is raise his eyebrows, has about a hundred and one pissy and angry things he could say, but he doesn’t utter a word, because he doesn’t want to make Max more upset than she already is.

Clearly just the change in his expression spooks her though, because she insists, sounding like she could cry again at any second, “You promised me!”

He puts his hands up sort of defensively, though he has to grab the wheel again when the car veers, swallowing his anger to tell her calmly, “I didn’t even say anything. I promised I’d be nice and I’m gonna keep that promise.”

She nods hesitantly, more to show trust than agreement, so Billy continues, “But Maxi that’s.. bad. Why don’t you tell a teacher or some shit?”

“Yeah, like they would even do anything. They already hate me for being in their coed classes.” Max mumbles the last part, looking away, “They’d probably rather Troy beat me up so I wouldn’t be bothering them anymore.”

“Tell me you’re being dramatic.”

But Max just shrugs again.

“Fuck, I hate this fucking place.” Billy tears his eyes from the road to look Max in the eyes as she says it, even knowing she can’t return the gesture, “You know you don’t deserve to go through this shit, Maxi?”

“It.. is kinda my fault though.”

He lashes out, just a little, hearing her talk like that about herself. Because it’s not fair that a thirteen year old girl looks at herself that way, yeah, but also because he knows it’s in some ways his fault too, and their parents for the way she’d been brought up, and the shit she'd been around that she even thinks to say shit like that.

He hits the palm of his hand against the rim of his steering wheel, rather he goes to before he catches himself, slowing it before it really hits, tapping it more than anything, “No the fuck it isn’t. It’s nobody’s fault but the assholes that make it into a problem. And fucking Neil’s for dragging us to this close-minded little spot on the map. I hate this fucking town”

“Oh.” Is all Max says.

Billy waits, but he can see she doesn’t know what else to say, so he sighs, “Look, I made my promise to you. Can you make one for me now?”

Max looks confused, “Okay?”

“Promise me that the next time somebody says some shit to you, you stand up for yourself.” Max scrunches up her face, like she immediately disagrees with that, but Billy insists, “Look, I don’t care if you’re crying like a damn baby or you can’t even talk while you do it, just don’t let ‘em walk all over you like that again.”

“I’m not fighting anyone, Billy. I’m not.. like you.”

“That’s not what I said. I said to stand up for yourself. It’s different.”

“Yeah right. How am I supposed to do that?” Billy knows that some asshole had to have said that to Max, that for whatever bullshit reason she couldn’t stick up for herself. Damn kid can’t catch a break in life, so he tells her, at this point not sure if this is even advice or just him ranting at Max, “This kid calls you a slur again, tell ‘im at least you got the diagnosis. Make him feel like he’s the stupid one. And if a teacher ever pulls some shit about the way you learn, tell ‘em you’ll go to the board of education and personally get their asses fired. Your mom would fight for you.”

“No she wouldn’t.”

“Then dammit I would. Your friends would if they understood. I know Sinclair would kick ass for you.”

Max’s toughness finally cracks- she learned that from him, to put on that hard exterior and fake it- Billy's determination stronger than her stubbornness. She looks up at him with a look in her eye that says he’s said all the right things, “You really think so?”

“No shit. Big brothers know all about this kind of bull.”

“I guess.” Max smiles just a little, and tells him matter-of-factly, “But you’re not that kind of big brother. You’re too cool.”

“Hell yeah I am.” Billy hums proudly, adding with humor in his tone, “But it’s even more cool to be nice to your little sister than it is to be an asshole. Remember that one.”

Max nods, listing it off on her fingers, “Stand up for myself, but don’t be an asshole, and Billy's secretly a big softie. I think I got it.”

“Good. Now out of my car, shitbird.”

Giggling in that way that says she knows she got him, Max swings open her door and runs into the house, leaving Billy to watch after her. He turns off the car but doesn’t get out, trying to bury his worry for her under his expression, not because he didn’t care, or even because he didn’t want her to know, he was long past that, but because he was worried what would happen if Susan saw his concern.

She’d weasel the truth out of Max if she knew something was up, and somehow, despite her promises, Neil would find out once he dragged his ass back home from the bar later tonight, and then it would somehow be Billy’s fault. He just hopes, if Max lets slip about the bullying, she at least doesn’t get too mouthy and mention the part where she was crying.

That was a Friday when that all went down, so Billy has the weekend, which thankfully does not include any snitching, to decide what he’s going to do about it. It’s not like he was ever going to go beat up on any tweens anyways, but he promised Max he wouldn’t be dumb, and he knew that meant no passive aggressive bullshit either. At least not while she could see him.

Because that ruled out like, half of his options, he’s still kind of clueless on what he’s going to do that next Monday morning when schools back in. He’s sitting in the middle school parking lot, fingers twitching against the steering wheel without a cigarette to busy them with, waiting for 7:30 on the dot when Max always goes in.

At this point, he’s considering just ditching with her to go get ice cream or something so she doesn’t have to face any bullies today, but his epiphany comes in the form of watching Jonathan Byers walk the littler one all the way to the front doors, his hand protectively hooked through the handle on the kid’s backpack. When the clock ticks the right time and Max opens her door, he knows what he’s going to do, and he turns the car off.

She freezes, can tell he’s up to something. “What are you doing?”

“Nothin’. M’just walking you in.” She glares at him in response to the smug smile he wears, so he swears, “Honest. I got basketball today. No way I’m missing that shit ‘cause I fought some little kid.”

“You’re lying.”

“Can’t I just be nice to my little sister?”

From the look on her face, she’s still skeptical, but it's enough to get Max to agree to it, grabbing her bag from the backseat and mumbling, “Whatever. Just don’t embarrass me.”

Billy chuckles, giving Max a head start towards the building before he follows, “Hey now, I thought just yesterday I was your cool older brother.”

“Cool older brothers don’t walk their sisters to the door.” She calls it over her shoulder, and Billy can’t help but tease her more, correcting her in a sing-songy voice, “Who said I was stoppin’ at the door? I’m walking you all the way to your class.”

“Oh god.” Max stops walking, but Billy keeps up, this time pulling ahead enough to call back to her, “Come on shitbird. Don’t wanna be late.”

“I hate you so much.”

“Yeah, right. You love that I would take the time outta my morning to do this for you.” He props open the door for Max with his boot, pretending not to notice the way all the little middle school kids at their lockers turn to gawk at them, letting her shove past him with her face flushed deeper than the color of her hair in embarrassment.

Pulling on her backpack straps, like she’s trying to physically make herself smaller, she mumbles, “No, I actually hate you.”

He almost feels bad for embarrassing her, but that’s the other part of his job, and he reminds her of that, “Good. There’s some more advice for ya, little sisters should always hate their big brothers, or he’s doing something wrong.”

They get a little ways down the hall, Max’s confidence going up just some as the shock wears off and people start to turn away, but Billy hardly notices. He doesn’t even come close to being bothered by eighth grade politics anymore, and if he’s intimidating the poor kids, well that’s exactly what he’s there for.

When he’s met with a particularly harsh glare from some snob nosed brat, who happens to remind him a lot of one Tommy Hagan, he bumps into Max on purpose, and announces louder than he needs to in hopes the kid’ll know he was looking for him, “That the little asshole s’been givin’ you trouble?”

Glancing nervously between him and Billy, she nods, “Yeah..”

Billy just nods, a cross between acknowledgment and judgement, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“You said-“ Again Max panics, but Billy cuts her off this time with a simple assurance of, “And I didn’t do anything.”

Her eyebrows knit together, realizing that that wasn’t a lie, “I.. guess you didn’t.”

“What’s your first class anyways?”

“We report to the cafeteria before first period.” She informs him, leading him that way, but he hooks two fingers through the strap on her bag to stop her, “Not gonna happen, Maxi. Being shoved in a tiny room with three hundred other kids makes you feel all ‘meltdowny’ I think was your exact word. So you’re not doin’ that anymore. I just decided.”

“But that’s against the rules.”

“Yeah, so’s me bein’ in this building during school hours, but nobody’s saying shit to me, are they?”

Max narrows her eyes at him then, and he knows he said too much, that he’s been found out, “That’s your plan isn’t it.”

There’s a crooked smile on his face he can’t hide as he plays innocent-like, “What is?”

Max pushes him a little and he pretends to misstep while she accuses him, “Coming into school and being all intimidating so nobody will bug me anymore.”

“Pfft, yeah right.” Billy denies again, getting nothing but an eye roll in response at first, but when it’s clear it’s he’s not going to give up and admit it, Max does, glancing shortly over at him, “Well thanks anyways, Billy.”

She adds, realizing he’s wandering with no idea where they’re going, having never been in the middle school himself, “My first class is in B-18.”

“Which one is’at?” He asks, just curious, but Max deflects the question, giving a short, “It’s taught by Mr. Clarke.”

Just from how quiet she is, Billy can tell that she's hiding something, “Max. You seriously don’t even know what class you’re in?”

“No I don’t, okay?” Max stops in the middle of the hallway, ranting at her brother, “It’s already not the same as my old school, and then they moved my schedule all around again after they decided I didn’t qualify for special ed, so now I just go where I’m s’posed to, and I know my teachers better than my classes.”

“And you didn’t tell anyone, did you?”

“No. There’s nothing anyone can do so it doesn’t matter.” Her tone implies she thought a lot about it, maybe even wanted to, but decided not to.

Billy insists right back, these past two days feeling like he’s constantly petitioning for Max to trust and rely on him, “Oh I could do somethin’. You know I could.”

“I do. But I don’t want you to. Sticking up for me is enough.”

That’s what makes Billy understand. The firmness in her voice says everything she needs him to hear: Max doesn’t want Billy to do for her what she can handle. This is bigger than just being the older brother. This is her setting boundaries, asking for help without wanting to be controlled. That’s something he never really got how to do, being raised by a dictator and all, but it’s something she needs. Sometimes he forgets that.

He doesn’t say anything else, just lets it sit while Max takes him down some stairs to the right room. She stops outside, scuffing up the dusty marble floors with the toe of her Chuck Taylor’s, “Could you.. stick around for a little bit in case he says something?”

Billy clicks his tongue, remarking, “I dunno. I got a class in a few..”

But his sarcasm falls short with Max, which, that’s his bad for not realizing that it would, and her face falls, “Oh, well I guess I can just-”

“Was just funnin’ you shitbird. I don’t give a fuck about my classes.” Max grimaces in that all too familiar way of uncertainty, so he promises, “I’ll be right out here. Go talk to your teacher, ‘n if he says some shit to you, remember I only promised not be stupid about the bully.”

He at least gets a smile for that one, before Max rolls her eyes, “You’re not fighting my science teacher, dummy.”

“Whatever. Just get in there, brat.”

He can see Max holding back a smile as she listens, bounding into her classroom with another quick glance back at Billy to check that he wasn’t lying and going to walk away.

Billy waits until the door fall closed to lean against the row of lockers opposite it, watching her through the little meshed over windows. By now, he’s pretty well versed on what arguments with angry authority figures look like, and the conversation between Max and her teacher is not one. He still stays though, just because Max asked him to, but maybe, just maybe a little for himself, a reassurance that the second he leaves shit isn’t going to get worse, and Max’ll have at least someone other than her equally as nerdy little friends behind her.

Then they both turn and give him a little wave, Max and her teacher, an acknowledgment to Billy that this new routine was indeed going to work out. The way the school district had handled everything else, he wonders if the guy even knew Max wasn’t like his other students until now.

Still, seeing that, Billy gives a half nod in response, and decides his job is done here, at least until tomorrow when he does the same. Max’ll get used to it, and his hope is that the little bully brats won’t. He’ll just have to keep them on their toes.

Which is exactly why, while on his way out, Billy has to break his promise to Max, just slightly, and do something dumb. He finds the Troy kid again, and waits until the little punk is at his peak to knock him down a few pegs.

He’s complaining about some teacher, which is pretty typical for a thirteen-fourteen year old kid, but the other things he’s said to Max make it not as relatable, not as innocent. So he does what any logical, mature adult would do, and scares the piss out of him.

Billy waits until the kid gets a laugh from his troop of assholes, and slams the locker door beside him shut, uncaring of who’s it was. All eyes are quickly on him, all too wide against too pale faces. It’s too easy.

“What are you little shits whining about over here?”

The one in charge steps forward, trying to be tough despite the way he has to practically bend backwards to look up at Billy’s face, “None of your business. Did the freak send you after us to scare us? It ain’t gonna work.”

“Oh I’m not here to scare you. I’m just here to give you your final warning. We’re past the point of intimidation. Matter of fact, next time I have to come here.. it won’t be looking so good for you.”

“You’re lying.” The kid accuses, despite the obvious doubt written behind his features.

Billy can work with that.

“I might be. But I’m still an authority figure over your sorry little asses, and if you don’t start respecting that..” He bends down a little further, still nowhere near the kid but making his whole troupe flinche back, and drops his pitch, “well, I can’t promise what’ll happen to ya, but unlike your teachers, I don’t play by the rules. You got that?”

Straightening himself back out, Billy pretends to start walking away before he adds, “Oh, and if you pick on my kid sister ever again, I will know. Just remember that, uh, Troy was it?”

The kid nods dumbly, literally vibrating with something like fear, and Billy can say he’s pretty satisfied with that. He pats the kid on the shoulder, a touch so gentle it wouldn’t’ve hurt a fly, and notably couldn’t get him in any trouble, but the little shit scampers off, three other puffy head bullies trailing after him.

Everyone sees it happen, Billy with his nasty smirk and his distinguishably high-schooler way of carrying himself, Troy running for the hills in the other direction. He leaves feeling like his point has been thoroughly proven.

It isn’t easy to make Maxine Mayfield cry, but it’s even harder to get away with it, and Billy knows it won’t be a problem from now on.

#billy & max #billy hargrove #max mayfield #autistic max #tw r slur #tw ableism mention #tw bullying mention #ej writer #story by ej! #anon my beloved #you so read my mind with this #I had half a fic written out like this for ages and then this ask popped up (a while ago. I’m sorry I’ve been so slow at requests) #so have this little projection fest my beloved anon #i mighta went a little crazy with this #<3 <3 <3 #thank you for sending me this! I love requests!

[marvelobsessedteenager]

All The Hurt - Chapter 2

Pairing: Peter Parker x fem!reader

Warnings: ANGST, Peter was an ass, reader is a hurt and petty bitch, fluff to make up for the angst, curse words, lots of “coincidences”

Word Count: 4.1k

A/n: The amount of love I've gotten is absolutely incredible. Thank you guys for the support! Enjoy :3 -----------------------------------------

Flash had suggested driving both him and yourself to Liz’s house, and you agreed, simply because car rides with him were more fun. You got there earlier than anyone else, giving Flash time to set up his DJ equipment and speakers while you helped Liz and Betty set up the lights, food, and drinks.

Not an hour later and the house was full of people that you knew and didn’t know, but welcomed anyway. Everybody walking around was having a good time, drinking soda out of a red solo cup and dancing to Flash’s party music. You would be lying if you told yourself your eyes weren’t examining the dance floor for a particular bed of curls.

In your mind, you knew there was no way Peter knew Spider-Man. You saw it in the way he told everyone he did today at the gym. His left hand was wildly shaking — a clear telltale of nerves you’d figured out long ago.

Something else was bothering you, though, even if you didn’t want to admit it.

That bruise. You knew for a fact Peter wasn’t a fighter, mainly when it came to bullies - words or actions. He never retaliated, which is why people considered him an easy target. You wouldn’t put it past him to allow himself to get beaten up, but you would have known if that’d happened. Flash was definitely his number one bully, but he wouldn’t dare lay a finger on Peter, and neither would any of his friends, especially since they all knew your history with Peter.

They were all bark and no bite, which meant that there was another explanation for it, but for the love of God, you couldn’t figure out what it was.

And speak of the devil.

You smirked as you caught sight of him, worried thoughts vanishing as you weaved your way through the crowd to Flash, whispering in his ear about your discovery. He flashed you a wicked smile, turned down the music, and grabbed the mic.

“Penis Parker! What’s up?” Flash yelled into the mic, causing Peter to freeze and turn to look at Flash, who was pointing right at him.

“Hey, Y/n,” Flash pretended to search the crowd then turned to you, “Where do you think his pal Spider-Man is?” He placed the mic below your lips and waited for your preplanned answer.

“Hm, let me a guess.” You sweetly said, tapping your chin like you were thinking, “in Canada with his imaginary girlfriend?” You raised your eyebrows, eyes boring into Peter’s with fire burning behind your pupils, your brain ignoring your heart that was begging you to stop upsetting him as you caught the flash of hurt that crossed his features.

The crowd laughed and “ooh” ed as Flash played a “burn” sound effect, “That’s not Spider-Man,” He jutted his chin towards Ned, “that’s just Ned in a red shirt.”

You watched him walk away from the giggling crowd, fuming, and you bumped your fist with Flash's in victory. He turned up the music, and you made your way to the dance floor with your friends, as you swayed your hips to the loud tune. Your group sang loudly to the songs, and though it was deafening and off-tune, you never felt freer than when you screamed the lyrics with them.

At some point, your voice started sounding raspy, and your throat was begging you for some sort of liquid to heal the ache. You excused yourself from the group, walked to the kitchen and grabbed a solo cup, filling it with cool water and chugging it down.

But, of fucking course, someone had to ruin your night and your favorite white dress by bumping into you and spilling coke on your outfit. That someone was a girl with piercing blue eyes and brown hair — someone you didn't recognize. It was clear she didn’t go to Midtown considering she squeaked an apology and ran to her friends, who glanced back at you and immediately dashed out of the house.

Great.

You would ask Liz for another dress, but you weren’t exactly tight with her. You’d also ask your friends to take you home to change, but as you looked at them jumping around and bobbing their heads to the music, you figured they were having too much fun, and you didn’t want to ruin it.

You would normally call your driver, but you hadn’t had the chance to set up your new phone just yet.

Sighing, you grabbed your denim jacket you hid below the counter earlier, put it on, and began your journey home on foot. Your house was located about thirty minutes away from Liz’s, which wasn’t really a big deal for you.

About fifteen minutes of strolling in silence and kicking any rock that caught your eye, you passed by a playground that looked familiar. It was the very same playground you and Peter would play in when you were children. You’d take turns pushing each other on the swing, and when you were old enough to do it yourself, you would both compete to see who’d go higher and who could jump off the swing the farthest. It always resulted in an injury, but you two always laughed it off, especially when Jane would run over worriedly with a first-aid kit.

As you went into your early teenage years, you’d meet at the playground alone and climb to the top of the dome climber with different (and disgusting) flavored milkshakes, exchanging it with each other every now and again, and watch the river flow peacefully.

The same river in which Iron-Man is flying out of with Spider-Man in his arms.

Wait, what?

You snapped out of your reverie and did a double take before you quickly dove into one of the many bushes, the quick rate of your heartbeat becoming a distraction from the fresh cut on your exposed neck from the sharp branches.

You could see everything that was happening in front of you, but not necessarily hear everything. Your wide eyes curiously peeked over the bushes, watching as Iron-Man placed Spider-Man on the dome. And maybe it was your hearing, but you swore you knew the high pitched voice that was exaggeratedly saying something.

You saw Spider-Man tug his mask off and wring it out, which made the back of his head incredibly visible. Brown hair. Or maybe black. It was too dark to see the difference. You debated moving a little closer to hear the conversation.

Deep down, you knew it wasn’t right. Spider-Man was entitled to protect his identity. But you could keep a secret. Besides, maybe this could be the moment you’d thank him for saving you. You doubted he’d remember what he did, but you’d never forget.

So, you crept a little closer to make out the words, despite your gut telling you you shouldn’t.

“What were you thinking?” Iron-Man asked in a way that made you believe Spider-Man was in trouble.

“The guy with the wings is obviously the source of the weapons, I gotta take him down!”

Wait. That sounds like-

“Take him down now, huh? Steady, Crockett, there are people who handle this sort of thing.” Iron-Man said, waving his arm around.

“The Avengers?”

“No, no, no, just a little below their…pay grade.”

“Anyway, Mr. Stark, you didn’t have to come all the way out here, I-I had that. I was fine.”

But that was all you could hear. Because as the conversation went on, the gears in your head begun turning, the dots seemed to connect faster than you could comprehend.

The strange bruise on his jaw after it was shown on the news that a certain superhero fought robbers at the bank across Delmar’s. Him running out of school once it was over. The fact that he left school for two weeks and mysteriously came back. Him ‘allegedly’ saying your name when he saved you. All the times he ditched you in the past were the same times Spider-Man was on the news for a heroic saving. You remembered because you’d send the news to Peter. The “Stark Internship” excuse wasn’t real.

But this was.

Peter Parker is Spider-Man.

Peter Parker saved your life.

The amount of information was loud. So, so, loud. You couldn’t hear the bickering that went on. A rush of emotions went through you. The first was rage. Is this it? Is this is his reason for letting you go? He couldn’t have just been honest and told you? You bet he told Ned. But he couldn’t tell you, could he?

But just as quickly as it came, your anger left you, instead being replaced with worry. You hated to admit it, but you were worried about him. How could he go out there every day and put his life on the line like that? What about his wounds and injuries? Did he suffer through those alone? Or did May help him heal?

Does May even know? Does anybody know?

Lastly, panic, and that was the strongest of them all. Holy shit, you thought, I just found out that my ex best friend and former crush is a superhero. He shoots webs out of his hands or something and sticks to walls and saves strangers and fights criminals and-

And Iron-Man is flying away.

And Spider-Man is walking in your direction.

I need to go.

As soon as you turned around, still crouched but ready to fucking bolt, you accidentally stepped on something hard, and you had to bite your tongue to keep your hissing inside. Once the pain slightly subsided, you looked downwards and moved your head closer to the object. A loud purring sound was emitting from it, and if there was anything in this world that screamed danger, it was this.

You were careful to pick it up and examine it. In the middle of this..machine was a bright purple stone and it was fucking glowing. You looked around you and caught Spider-Man muttering something to himself right before an obnoxious ringing made its way into your ears, prompting you to cringe and put your hands over them as you crouched.

It’s the same annoying fucking ringtone as Peter’s.

You waited for him to move a little farther, and when he did, you peeked from behind the bush. He had just closed the phone and continued his walk. You didn’t know if this thing was a bomb or something explosive, so throwing it in his direction was already ruled out. Besides, he was already beyond throw distance. You knew the safest way to get it to him.

You knew what to do. You hated that you did, but you had to do it.

Maybe hearing him talk to you would confirm or deny your hypothesis. Anybody could have brown hair, a high-pitched voice and the same ringtone as your ex-best friend and be a superhero that saved you two weeks ago.

You took a deep breath to calm your hammering heart from ripping through your ribcage and escaping. “I hate my life,” you mumbled as you rose and followed him with your heart still beating out of your chest, almost sure it was louder than your barely audible footsteps.

Don’t trip, don’t trip.

When you got close to him, close enough to tap him on the shoulder, he quickly turned around and got into a fighting position with his fists ready to punch. You were so shocked that you dropped the object and backed away with your hands up, “Whoa, whoa, whoa, easy. ”

Upon seeing a citizen (that he knew too well) he dropped his stance, “S-uh..sorry. I-I thought you..uh..” He cleared his throat, “Sorry, ma’am. How can I help you?” He said, very clearly thickening his voice and awkwardly placing his hands on his hips.

But you knew that sound anywhere.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. It is him.

You attempted to swallow the lump in your throat as you felt it clogging your ability to breathe.

“Uh, hi. I’m Y/n.” You mentally smacked yourself. He already knows you, dumbass.

Should you tell him he knows you, though? Should you tell him you know him? No, what? You vehemently shook your head.

“A-anyway I, um, found this-” You picked up the object and turned it around in your hands, “-on my way home and I think it’ll help you? I don’t know, it’s definitely not man-made, I suppose. I’m not exactly an expert but I thought you’d be and you just so happened to be in my neighborhood and I am, too, and this thing is glowing and-”

His spider..eye..thingies were as wide as saucers, and it was only now that you noticed you were rambling. Your cheeks flushed, and you immediately cursed at your body for betraying you.

This is worse than tripping.

“Sorry,” you looked down at your shoes, "I babble when I’m-“ Nope. Not letting him know you’re nervous. Not that he doesn’t already know. You found yourself regretting telling him all your triggers and quirks in the past, because right now, you couldn’t tell whether he could figure you out or not.

He probably could, though.

This night just kept getting worse. Pack it up already.

You cleared your throat and straightened your shoulders in the most confident way you could, “Here,” you outstretched your arm to him, waiting for him to grab the foreign object, but all he did was stare, and stare, and stare. You didn't really know where to look, and you didn't know if he was gazing at you or not, but before you could say anything, he snapped out of whatever he was in and took a hold of the object. You tried not to think about his masked fingers that grazed yours.

“Thanks, uh, Y/n.”  He said, not as intrigued by the object as you thought he’d be. Instead, he seemed to be looking at you. Or behind you. You still couldn't tell. You were too caught up in the way he said your name. It felt strangely familiar, and comforted you for a moment. It made you feel safe and wanted. Loved.

Before the memories reminded you of what he’d done.

“Sure,” you nodded, slowly backing away, “um, see you...around.”

“Yeah.”

As you turned on your heel to continue your trip home, he pipped up, “Oh, um, would- do you want me to walk you home? It’s really dark out here.”

You entertained the thought in your head for a second. "What could possibly happen if he walked you home, besides guaranteeing you safety?” Your heart spoke.

"Oh, I don’t know, you could accidentally blurt out that you know him, and then things will get even more awkward than they already are.” Your brain fought back, stubborn as ever.

Yeah, you’re definitely just going to pass up his offer.

“I’m, uh, I’m good. Need a little time to myself.” You nervously chuckled, wrapping your arms around yourself, “Thanks, though, I appreciate it.”

“Yeah.” He repeated, shifting his weight from one foot to another as he watched you walk away from him.

Like he’d done to you.

The rest of the fifteen minutes passed by faster than you anticipated, but maybe it was because you were too preoccupied considering you just confirmed your ex-best friend was a fucking superhero with fucking superpowers. As the confirmation made its way into your brain, you noticed that the signs were right beneath your nose, but you weren’t observant enough to figure it out. They started before he left you.

How did it start to begin with? Has he always had these powers?

Wait, no. Because Spider-Man wasn’t always around. And even if he really did have them for a long time, why leave you now? It must’ve been recent, you concluded.

But how? How does one go from an ordinary, lanky teenager to a robust superhero who can stop a speeding bus with his bare hands?

As one question was answered, another one took its place. The list just kept going and going, without a clear sign of it stopping.

In all honesty, you thought the videos that popped up on your YouTube recommended page of a web-slinging human were staged. In your defense, he seemed quite small to be a hero, and it wouldn’t be the first time some kid tried to fool the world with “a new superhero". You remember sending it to Peter and asking him if he thought it was real.

He never answered.

You hadn’t realized you were standing on your porch, staring at the overly large mahogany door in front of you. You sighed and took out your keys, placing them in the lock and twisting it.

You were lucky today was the beginning of the weekend. You wouldn’t be able to face him after seeing what you just saw. You didn’t know how to feel. You didn’t know what to do. Should you let him know that you know?

Should you let anyone know that you know?

That was the worst part about this whole thing. You had no one to turn to. No one to talk to about this, and there definitely wouldn’t be a wikiHow page on how to deal with something like this.

So, you ruled it out. One of the choices was obviously keeping the secret to yourself and not telling Peter you knew his identity. It would keep things from getting too awkward to handle and would keep him safe.

The other choice, the really horrible one, was to let everyone know. A part of you was still mad at what he’d done. You mean, he didn’t even try to apologize as he should’ve. That evil part of you, the hurt part, wanted revenge — wanted you to ruin Peter like he did you.

You knew people would believe you if you told them. You knew they’d find their ways to figure out if it’s true or not. But for some reason, you were hesitant. Yes, Peter ruined your life. Yes, Peter broke you in ways you believed were beyond mendable.

But Peter was also the boy who gave you his last Iron-Man bandaid when you scraped your elbow the first time you met. He’s the boy who pushed your bully and got punched in the face for it when you were ten. He’s the boy who saved your life the other day - the boy who saves dozens of strangers every week.

It was clear which option was better.

Keeping his secret didn’t mean you forgave him, though.

After everything, you didn’t know if you allowed yourself to forgive him. Part of you wanted you to, pleaded you to for the sake of moving on, but the more stubborn part of you remembered the pain you went through; the nights you spent crying yourself to sleep, the newfound insecurities of not being enough for anybody, the fear that others will leave you behind like he did.

Hell, you had a locked note in your notes app that contained a long speech about how you felt — about how he made you feel. The one you were to send him — but ended up deleting.

You groaned and rubbed your head, feeling an oncoming headache from the questions. You stayed in your house that weekend, trapped with a racing mind and no answers to slow it down.

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

You started noticing Peter act differently towards you when your freshman year of high school was close to ending. It started off with him rescheduling long-awaited plans and then showing up late, but you didn’t mind. He had told you he scored an internship at Stark Industries, and you swore you’d never felt prouder in your entire life.

He informed you that he could be called in at any given moment, which was his reason for leaving in the middle of your hangouts. You understood, and so, you encouraged him to do so.

But then, as time went by, you noticed a change. Instead of postponing the plans, he’d cancel them all together and wouldn’t make up for them. And sometimes, in the rare occasion in which he did postpone them, he’d stand you up, keeping you awake until you were on the brink of sleep.

He apologized multiple times for doing so, blaming it on the time the internship took for him, and you let it go, even when it became a pattern to leave you stranded.

You were okay with it.

Until it became too much.

During lunch, you could never find him, which ended up with you eating alone. During the only class you shared with him, he’d zone out while you were talking and completely ignore you. You’d normally come out of your last period ready to see him standing by your locker to begin your journey home, but he stopped being there, and you would walk home alone.

Texts and calls went unnoticed, and you felt the barrier he had placed between the two of you grow higher and higher as the time passed by.

What bothered you is that it was just with you. He acted completely normal around Ned. You often saw them chatting and laughing while you watched from afar, heart breaking into two as you wondered where you went wrong. You inspected every text message you sent and every conversation you had, often staying up late re-reading it until you reached the top. You just didn’t understand what happened.

One day, you approached him after school, running after him as he bolted through the school’s gates into the outside.

“Hey!” You called as you caught up to him and grabbed his arm, which flexed beneath your grip. You sighed and slightly loosened your grasp, “Can, um, can we talk?”

Peter visibly gulped, hesitantly nodding as his eyes bounced around your figure, never looking at you.

“Peter.” You ran a hand through your hair, carefully choosing your next words as to approach this topic cautiously, “What’s going on with you? You..you’ve been acting weird and distant. D-did do something?”

“I’m not acting weird,” Peter said, almost offendedly, quick to defend himself.

“Peter we haven’t hung out in weeks because you’ve been canceling them.” You retaliated.

“I told you, I-it’s the internship.”

You frowned, heart clenching at the tiredness that seeped into his voice, “I know.” You gave him a small smile, hoping for one in return, “I’m your best friend. I’m always here for you, you know.”

“I-“ He sharply inhaled, scratching the back of his head with his shaking left hand. “I don’t want you to be.”

Your smile instantly dropped, feeling a painful nudge in your stomach, “What?”

“I don’t..this isn’t working, Y/n. We can’t be friends anymore. I’m done.” He said. And so easily, too.

I’m done, he’d said.

Your heart stopped for a moment, taken aback by his bluntness and the harshness that came with his words, “What? Why? N-no.” You denied, "You’re just gonna leave? You can’t do that, I..What did I do?”

“Nothing. It’s just..it’s just better this way.” Peter visibly gulped, looking around the streets like he wasn’t standing there, breaking your fragile heart into pieces while you were trying your hardest to not fall apart right in front of him.

Dignity was still a thing. But so was your friendship.

“I can’t fix this if you won’t let me, Pete.” You pleaded, hoping he’d admit that something was wrong - that it wasn’t you that he was pushing away, that there was a reason for him doing so. You could fix this. You could.

“There’s nothing to fix. I don’t want to be friends, that’s it.” He shrugged, shuffling backward, getting ready to make a run from it.

“No,” you stopped him, grabbing his hand softly, despite the tears that already ran down your face, “There has to be a reason! Y-you can’t just leave like that! Give me a reason! WHAT DID I DO?!”

When he didn’t respond, you gave his loose hand a squeeze and wiped your tears with your sleeve, already feeling stupid for the amount of vulnerability you were displaying, especially when you weren’t getting any sort of reaction out of him besides coldness.

“Peter. Peter, please, just l-let me fix this.” You said, voice cracking, "You’re all I have left. Please don’t do this.”

You were begging. You knew you were, but you couldn’t let him leave without putting up a fight. You were a step away from begging on your knees, but you didn’t. You were able to stop yourself from doing so, but you still believed you could get through whatever this is - you were so sure of it.

But you never did.

And you swore he had ripped your heart from your chest, stepped on it, and nonchalantly walked away, leaving you to deal with the pain of the heartbreak on the sidewalk.

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#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker fluff #peter parker angst #peter parker x y/n #tom holland #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fanfic #tom holland x reader #tom holland angst #spiderman #spiderman x reader #marvel

[joshstambourine]

Greta Van Fleet as Dad's

Haven't been able to un-see this idea since it showed up on my dash and uggggh. I couldn't get over how cute all of this was.

For this imagine, I'm sort of picturing them with younger children, anywhere from 3-5 years old as they are all still crazy young hehe. Also. All of these imagines work with any gender of child. It's all sorta just what I imagine them having and being like in general 🖤

Taglist: @anditsmywholeheart

JOSH

Josh is such an interesting guy. He is both so deeply smart... but also at the same time he is the equivalent of a conversation between my last two brain cells.

The sheer amount of energy this man has means he'll not only keep up with a kid but also tire them tf out.

There would always be so much screaming and laughing in the house.

Lots of games of tag and the floor is lava

No matter what he has, son or daughter --- there will be so much dancing. Josh would be the kind of dad who loves to hold his kid and just dance around the house with them.

Not to mention all of the goofy songs they would be singing together.

I can see Josh conversing with his kids like adults even when they are little. Meaning there will be some very serious conversations about very silly things. Potato chips can make you a fly? On it. The floor is both lava and also the arctic? Josh is ready to hear all about how that's possible. There aren't mermaids but there are human sharks? Josh needs to know where he can find them asap.

I can very easily imagine him dressed up and sitting at a table that is far too small for him with his legs crossed.

His daughter would have started by putting one necklace on him and it soon escalated to a crown, sunglasses that didn't fit, and a set of fairy wings. Surrounded by many stuffed animals and dolls.

"Mmm, this is great tea! What kind is it?"

"Grape."

He'd look at his tiny tea cup filled with apple juice. "Huh I could have sworn it was Apple. Did you change it on me?"

She would shake her head, "No daddy! We already drank the apple tea!" She'd laugh.

"What?? You drank all the apple tea without me?!" He'd exclaim, "why did you drink all the apple tea with out me?"

Josh would inch over and begin to tickle her, just loving to hear her laugh really.

"Daddy! Daddy no! You can't tickle me, I'm the princess!!"

Jake

Jake immediately strikes me as such a chill laid back dad. The kind of cool dad you'd definitely want during your teenage years.

He'd be the kind of dad to sit and watch cartoons religiously with his kid, there's no way he'd be missing them. Doesn't matter if it's cool or comedy gold, if his little one loves it they're gonna watch it together.

I think Jake would really want to teach his kid how to play guitar. It's something he's so passionate about that I think it would bring him a lot of joy if his kid had at least the knowledge of techniques and things, even if they weren't a huge fan of playing themselves.

Jake as well strikes me as someone who would be psyched about making dad jokes, of course with a straight face.

That is just a long winded way of saying that as a very young child this kid would know more about music than I do now after 20 years of living on this planet.

"What did the Buffalo say to his little boy when he dropped him off at school?"

"Bison!"

For a gender of a kid I'm split right in the middle when it comes to Jake. I think either would be equally as adorable but for this imagine I'm going with a girl to keep things even.

With a little girl I can imagine him sitting quietly as he watches her tiny hands try their best to paint his nails cleanly.

There is pink nail polish everywhere. Everything is a mess. Everything smells of chemicals. But it's fine.

"After I do your nails can I braid your hair too?" She'd eagerly ask, not looking at his hands anymore but she is still trying to paint.

"But your show is going to be on soon...! I thought we were gonna cuddle?"

"....can I braid your hair and watch my show?"

Jake would look at her seriously before smiling, moving quickly to give her a small kiss on the cheek, "of course you can, only if you give me lots of cuddles after."

"Okay daddy!"

*insert a child who is only half heartedly braiding hair while fully enthralled in their show. Head tilted on a 45° angle to see the TV with half of Jake's hair in a frizzy mangled braid.*

Sam

I really think Sam would want his kids to listen to really good music from a young age.

I mean don't get me wrong I think all of the boys would be like this... but I see him being the kind of parent that buys into the "smarter babies listened to music in important development periods"

The ultimate "my kid is so smart" kind of parent that then shows you 20 drawings that don't look like anything, but clearly they look like something to him.

All those drawings get tucked away somewhere safe so he can go back and look at them proudly as his little one grows up.

"Maybe they'll be an artist?!"

He also strikes me as a parent who wants to be really involved in teaching his kid things. ABC's? Sam's baby has them locked and loaded. Numbers 1-20? Still has trouble remembering anything with a nine but we are working on it.

Ultimate joy is achieved when Sam gets to teach his little one how to ride a bike. He feeling like its a right of passage for every kid to have with their dad.

I pictured Sam sitting with his little boy at the kitchen table, puzzle pieces sprawled all over.

"Dad, I have a joke for you." He'd say as he fiddled with a piece.

"Oh yeah? Go for it buddy." Sam would reply as he connects another edge piece.

"Knock knock!"

"Whose there?"

"Banana!"

"Banana who?"

"The Banana man!" Snickering coming from across the table, hands banging on the table and nearly knocking several pieces off the table.

Sam would laugh a long, "Y'know I've never heard that version of that joke---"

"Dad I'm not done"

"Oh I'm sorry, continue." He'd say beginning to look for a few more pieces to go together.

"Knock knock!"

"Whose there?"

"Banana!"

"Banana who...?" Sam would respond slowly, prepared for the same poorly created joke.

"TWO BANANA MEN!"

Sam would have to lay on the table. It was such a freaking terrible joke but so funny to see the amount of joy it brought the little boys features. "You have to tell that one to mom, okay?"

Danny

Danny is such a loving guy in general, I feel like parenting for him would just be so easy. Not saying that there wouldn't be troubled times--- just that he's just one of those people that were born to parent.

The very dependable parent. Always going to make time for any small thing his little one needs.

Danny is going to encourage his kid to do whatever they love with all of his being.

"You like rocks? We should get a rock polisher."

"You're right these cookies are pretty good, maybe we should get the stuff we need to bake them together."

He is going to have a series or specific book he reads to his little one until they fall asleep. Its something he would refuse to miss, they have to do their chapter! Even if he's on tour somewhere he's going to call home to make sure they can read together.

Danny is over the moon to have a little golfing buddy. As soon as this kid could walk he bought them their own set of clubs so they could play along with him. He just couldn't wait to start teaching them.

Golf time is bonding time. They'd get to walk together and talk about anything and everything.

I've been crazy torn about whether to write about him with a son or a daughter, both are equally as cute. For the sake of evenness though I decided on a boy.

"Okay so for your driver buddy you need to hold your arms waaay out." Danny would tell his son holding his arms out.

"Like this?"

"A little more."

Little eyes look to Danny curiously as his arms become fully extended from his body.

"Perfect! Make sure you stand straight, and keep your eyes on the ball." He says with his hand on the middle of the boys back, "And then you just---"

"SWING!"

Danny nearly getting clocked in the head with a golf club but leans back just in time. The satisfying ting of the little one's club hitting the ball sounds,

"DID YOU SEE HOW FAR IT WENT DAD?!"

*Insert the face Danny made when he pretended Sam's margarita's were good*

~ If anyone wants a full fic written for one of these please let me know because I will 100% write out fluffy family fics without hesitation!! ~

#jake gvf #danny gvf #josh gvf #sam kiszka #greta van fleet #jake kiszka #josh kiszka #sam gvf #danny wagner #greta van fic #greta van fleet fan fiction #greta van fleet imagine #greta van fleet roleplay #gvf fanfiction #gvf #gvf imagine