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leiawritesstories · 1 year

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Don't Have To Hurt Anymore

Frederick and I have been on a little bit of an angst kick recently, but I promise, I PROMISE, that this ends well. I PROMISE. i feel like this is horrible and rambling and goes nowhere but yeah here's a thing

inspired by "Broken" by Isak Danielson yes yES it sounds awful but i swear on gavriel's grave that it ends well

Word count: 2.7k

CW: swearing, references to abortion

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She’d fallen so hard, so fast. The first time she caught a glimpse of his pale hair, near-silver beneath the kaleidoscopic strobe lights, when she caught a flash of his grin, she was captivated. There was something familiar about that hair, something she couldn’t place. She laughed and spun her way across the floor until she stood beside him–half a turn and they’d be face to face.

He turned.

Aelin still remembered the way Rowan’s face slackened upon seeing her, the way his jaw dropped and his eyes widened, sweeping over her with something so much deeper than brazen appreciation. Despite her tiny little skirt, her skintight gold top, the stiletto heels she could barely keep upright in, the thick layer of makeup, he didn’t see the persona she put on, but the person beneath. He saw her.

Nobody had ever looked at her like that. Like they saw her, and were not afraid.

None of her worthless exes ever had, for damn sure.

“Hi,” he said–well, yelled over the thumping music–his tattooed hand nervously rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m Rowan.”

“Aelin,” she called back, her lips tilting upwards.

That quicksilver grin of his flashed over his face. “Dance with me?” She grinned right back and took his hand, falling effortlessly into his arms.

They lasted all of four songs before Rowan bent his head down to her ear, whispering the question she simultaneously wanted and dreaded. Want to go upstairs?

Yeah, she breathed, ten different ways to quietly slip out of the party rapidly forming in her mind. He linked his fingers through hers and walked her across the floor, weaving through dancing bodies and the thick stench of alcohol and sweat, guiding her up the staircase into fresher air.

She heaved a deep breath. “So much better.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, keeping his fingers laced with hers. A hint of something almost vulnerable– probably just the alcohol, though–flickered across the planes of his face. “Here.” He pushed open a door, standing back to let her walk in first. “This one’s mine.”

“Didn’t know you kept a room at the frat house,” she teased, cracking a joke to cover up the way she could feel herself starting to shake.

He chuckled and closed the door. “I lock up whenever I leave so none of the other guys can dump their shit in my nice clean room.”

Aelin snorted a laugh. “So, a frat guy who’s a clean freak? Who are you, Rowan?”

“Nobody important,” he mumbled. He sat down on the neatly-made bed, a gentle tug on her hand asking her to come sit with him.

She flinched.

He released her hand and held both his hands up, palms out. “Hey.” His voice was soft, wary. “I’m not going to make you do anything, Aelin.” A few seconds of silence passed. “My door’s unlocked; if you need to go, then go. I promise I won’t try anything.” He swallowed thickly. “I…I guess I just thought you might want some space.”

Gradually, Aelin relaxed, remembering to count her breaths like she’d practiced over and over again with her therapist. “I…thanks,” she whispered. Finding her power of movement, she stepped to the bed and sat down a few inches away from Rowan’s side, still keeping a hand’s breadth of distance. “I needed some space, yeah.”

That searching look of his was back on his face. “Aelin?”

“What.”

He exhaled deeply. “Punch me if I’m being an asshole, but–did something happen?”

She twisted the rings on her fingers, a hundred million incoherent thoughts rampaging through her mind. Then, she looked up, properly meeting his gaze for the first time that night. “Before I say anything, Rowan, do you know me?”

His forehead furrowed. “You…no? We just met downstairs, you must know someone else in the frat–probably Fen, he’s friends with everyone.” Confusion clouded his handsome face; his eyes scanned hers, looking for something, anything, any detail that might jog his memory.

She blew out a breath. “Can I use your bathroom really quick?”

“Sure.” He gestured towards the bathroom door. “Help yourself.”

“Thanks.”

Aelin locked the bathroom door behind her, turned on the tap, and gripped the edge of the sink, hands shaking. She lifted her eyes to the mirror, staring into a face that wasn’t hers. The makeup–how clever of her to use her artistic skills to adjust the shape of her face so nobody would really know it was her. She’d thought she could enjoy the frat party, throw back a few drinks and scream-sing along to a few songs and have a fun night.

Until Rowan wrapped his hand around hers, and every emotion she thought she’d shoved away came crashing back.

Reaching for a towel, Aelin shut off the water and patted her face dry, carefully hanging Rowan’s towel back up before turning–slowly–back towards the mirror to face her reflection. Her face now, no longer hiding behind makeup. Gingerly, she opened the bathroom door, half-hoping Rowan would have gone back downstairs since she was taking so long. He was still sitting on the bed, and his head lifted when she opened the door, mild concern on his face as he glanced towards her.

She walked hesitantly across the room, stopped right in front of him, met his gaze head-on.

His eyes widened, jaw slackening as he looked into her face and recognized her. “Aelin,” he whispered. “You were–”

“Yeah.” Her voice was a hollow rasp. “I didn’t think you’d remember–it’s been more than two years, I thought I wouldn’t remember anything about it.”

Cautiously, he offered her his tattooed hand, letting her touch her shaking fingers to his solid, steady ones. “Do you…do you need to say anything?

She really thought she loved him. Stupid, childish Aelin.

She was nineteen when she met Chaol Westfall, still a big-eyed freshman amazed at how huge the world of university was. He was a year older, the rising-star sophomore baseball player that half the student body had a crush on, but for some reason he only had eyes for Aelin. She thought she was nobody–sure, she played on the basketball team, but she was only a freshman; she wasn’t getting tons of minutes or anything special. They met in a class, a 150-person psychology lecture at 10 a.m. Aelin sat in the middle of the lecture hall, in the sweet spot where she knew she wouldn’t really be noticed but she still had a good view of the professor. Chaol strolled into class and sat down a couple rows in front of her, and she paid him no attention, thinking he was just another guy. About a month in, they both showed up to a study session with a few other student-athletes from the class and quickly found they had a lot of shared interests.

Their first date had been a few days later. He took her out to dinner at a nicer restaurant, laughed and flirted and wooed her over dinner and dessert, drove her back to her building and kissed her goodnight. She’d gone upstairs to her dorm with a giddy smile on her face, incredibly excited for the potential of a relationship.

Then he took her to one of the baseball team’s parties, and she started to have doubts.

She shoved those silly doubts away, though, drowned them out with laughter and flirting and cheap beer and Chaol’s kisses. She told her apprehension to go fuck itself and wound her fingers into Chaol’s hair, pressed her body closer to his. One of his teammates wolf-whistled at them, earning a dirty gesture from Chaol, who laughed wryly as he took Aelin’s hand and led her through the chaos of the party into a quieter room, locking the door behind them. Don’t need anyone walking in, he chuckled.

When he kissed her again, tongue tangling with hers, his hands drifted to the hem of her dress, sending sparks shooting through her blood. He paused, leaning back enough to find her eyes. Is this okay?

And Aelin nodded, sliding her dress off her shoulders, and kissed him back, closing her eyes, losing herself in his surprisingly gentle touch. It only took a few moments before he was less gentle, before clothes disappeared in a hazy, half-drunk blur, before a condom appeared from gods knew where and he was laying her down, promising he’d make her feel so good. And he did, he made her feel things she’d never felt before, made her feel pleasure like she’d never experienced it. He told her she was beautiful, she was gorgeous, she was stunning.

She really thought he meant it.

The next morning, she woke up in Chaol’s arms. She smiled lazily, sleepily wondering if this could become her life. And for a while, it was her life. For at least a few months, she grew used to tumbling into Chaol’s bed, falling asleep in his arms. She grew used to wearing his jersey, which meant she caught looks from other girls. She grew used to the idea of him as her boyfriend.

Then she passed out during her chemistry lab.

When she came around, her professor and her lab partner and some of her classmates were clustered around her, varying degrees of concern on their faces. She waved them off and sat up, taking her lab partner’s arm for stability. Probably just the chemical fumes, she joked. It’s like I forgot basic lab safety, right?

She got through the rest of the lab before racing back to her dorm, dumping her things, grabbing her car keys, and driving straight to the pharmacy. Once she got back, she locked herself in the bathroom and opened the cardboard box with shaky hands, unfolding the ridiculously large instruction sheet. She almost couldn’t focus because of her nerves, but she steeled herself, followed the instructions, and waited. And waited. Gods, three minutes was an eternity.

The chiming of her phone timer just about gave her a heart attack. She scrambled to turn off the timer, then grabbed the little plastic sticks. She swore she could hear her own heartbeat thundering as she forced herself to look at the tests.

Two blue crosses stared her in the face.

Of course, she told Chaol. Why wouldn’t she? He was the father; he deserved to know. She showed him the tests late that night, sitting by his side. She wrapped her arms around her knees, suddenly reverting back to her little self, terrified of the great big world. He dropped the pregnancy tests with a soft, dull clatter and swore under his breath.

She managed to look over at him, tears pooling in her eyes. “What should we do?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “Fuck, I didn’t–we were safe–”

“We were.” Until they weren’t.

He sighed. “We’ll figure it out. I promise.”

She believed him. Stupid, stupid Aelin.

It hadn’t even been twenty-four hours after telling Chaol when Aelin knocked on his door and walked in, like she’d grown used to doing, and stopped short, gasping. The sight of one’s boyfriend shirtless and making out with someone else tended to do that.

At her gasp, Chaol jerked away from the…the guy? Well, shit. Good for him? Or something? Aelin didn’t wait for him to try and explain, she just slammed the door and walked away, ignoring his half-assed attempt to call after her. He barely even tried–he didn’t even run after her. He just called her name once or twice, then gave up and went back to his room. And his probable boyfriend.

Aelin expected to feel…something. Instead, she just felt numb. She walked back to her dorm, sat down on her bed, and stared at the wall. She didn’t know how long passed until voices sounded in the hallway and she snapped back into reality and picked up her phone, pretending like she’d just been casually scrolling through Instagram when her roommate walked in.

The next day–it was a Saturday, she remembered it like it had been yesterday–she got up quietly, made her bed, got dressed in comfortable leggings and an oversized Nirvana t-shirt that had once been her dad’s, picked up her car keys and her purse, and slipped out the door. On autopilot, she drove into town, pulled into the clinic parking lot, locked up her car, walked into the building, and went upstairs. The receptionist at the desk was a sweet-faced, middle-aged lady with graying hair who only asked a few check-in questions before handing Aelin a clipboard with a few forms and telling her where to sign. In moments, she was being escorted into the clinic, a nurse in vibrant purple scrubs at her side. The nurse sat with her through the whole thing, squeezing her hand, and wheeled her into the recovery room, saying something about how someone would come by in half an hour to discharge her.

She remembered exiting the clinic feeling tired, ready to go back to her dorm and have a good long nap. She remembered walking back into the waiting area and suddenly having the need to sit down, a wave of lightheadedness washing over her. She remembered how she all but collapsed onto the floor, waving off the staff who came to check on her. I just need a moment.

She remembered a tattooed hand reaching down to her. Hey. Do you need a lift?

She remembered looking up into pine-green eyes filled with concern. She remembered the sticker on his t-shirt: VOLUNTEER. She took the outstretched hand, let the young man help her to her feet, and took a deep breath, steadying herself. When he asked her again if she needed a lift, she shook her head and started walking. Her legs quivered and buckled, betraying her, and he was right back at her side, gently insisting that he at least get her out to her car.

She was much more stable by the time she got to the parking lot, stable enough to wave at the guy before driving herself back to campus, heading upstairs into her room, curling up on her bed, stuffing her face into her pillow, and releasing a long, stifled scream.

The tears followed immediately after that, bursting uncontrollably from the depths of her being. Aelin tucked herself into a tight little ball, clutched her pillows, and sobbed, her whole body shaking with the force of her tears.

Until now, she’d spent the last two years deliberately forgetting that day had ever happened.

She was sobbing by the time she’d finished speaking, slumped onto Rowan’s bedroom floor with her arms wrapped around her knees, overcome by every broken feeling she thought she’d locked away. She didn’t even realize he was kneeling next to her until he said her name, softly at first, then a little stronger. Aelin. Aelin. Aelin. “What?”

He faced her, close enough to touch but not wanting to reach for her lest he frighten her, lest she pull away. “You don’t have to hide yourself from me, Aelin, I promise.”

She sniffled. “How can you say that?”

“Because you deserve to hear it,” he murmured. “It’s true. That asshole–he never deserved you, not for a godsdamn second.”

Despite herself, she managed a teary chuckle. “He never fucking did.” She looked up through a film of tears, finding muted rage clouding Rowan’s face. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“He–he’s not worth it.” Chaol wasn’t worth it. She’d failed to see that for so long, still clinging to the hope that he’d come back to her, that he would change into someone who cared. He’d left her broken on the floor, left her without a care in the world.

Rowan had started to pick up the broken pieces of her the moment he held out his hand in the clinic.

“Okay.” Rowan’s whisper was gentle. “I…Aelin?” Her brows lifted in question. “Can I–” Words failed, so he just held out his arms. She all but fell into his embrace, clinging to him like a lifeline. Hot salty tears dripped into his shirt, her shoulders shaking as she cried.

When she raised her head, a hint of a smile curled at the corners of her lips. “Hey.”

“Hey.” His tentative smile was everything she needed in that moment.

She’d fallen for him so fast, so hard–like she always did. Like she had with Chaol. And with her handful of high school boyfriends before that. This time, though, it was different.

This time, it was Rowan.

~~~

TAGS:

@live-the-fangirl-life

@superspiritfestival

@thegreyj

@wordsafterhours

@elentiyawhitethorn

@morganofthewildfire

@backtobl4ck

@rowanaelinn

@house-of-galathynius

@tomtenadia

@julemmaes

@swankii-art-teacher

@charlizeed

@booknerdproblems

@chronicchthonic14

@earthtolinds

@goddess-aelin

@sweet-but-stormy

@clea-nightingale

@autumnbabylon

@darling-im-the-queen-of-hell

@llyncooljones

@silentquartz

#my writing #aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #rowaelin #rowan x aelin #rowaelin fanfic #rowaelin angst #sorry not sorry for the pain #fluffy ending though i promise #I PROMISE

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yakumtsaki · 1 year

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Boy do I feel iVan when it comes to this wolfwatching crap, I am OVER IT. I actually went back and checked how long it’s been that I’ve been trying to turn Jojo into a werewolf and it turns out I STARTED IN 2018. It’s literally been two Olympics, absolutely pathetic. Ok Jojo you are 200yo at this point, I really think it’s time for us to give this up and let you die with dignity.

-I’ve never done anything with dignity and I’m not about to start now!

Meanwhile, being disinherited in favor of her wife has reignited the passion in Shajar’s heart.

-Oh darling, I can’t believe you already have a new diabolical plan! It was only last night that you stole my inheritance! You’re a genius!🖤

-Don’t I know it!

Sophie can you just chill with your 20 top-careered pets, your massive lawyer pension, and all of Jojo’s money? What more could you possibly want??

-Oh I’ll tell you what I want, I want Sugar out of here!

Aw come on, he’s not that bad!

-He killed Sandy!

You hated Sandy! You literally danced on her grave!

-Ya that’s not it, she thinks with Sugar here Sophito’s heirship is disputed.

-SHAJAR YOU GODDAMN IDIOT DON’T TELL HER THAT

OMG SOPHIE WHO CARES

-I CARE. Now fuck outta here so we can have geriatric relations in our front yard!

-Listen, honey-

-You’ve never called me ‘honey’ before.

-Yes I have, I’m a very affectionate mother.

-No, I mean you LITERALLY have never in my life called-

-LISTEN HERE, BRAT. There, was that better?? Now, you know how much I love your cousin Sugar-

-Don’t you always say Aunt Cyn should have kept the placenta instead of him?

-Well the placenta is very nutritious. As I was saying, even though I love having Sugar around, I think the best thing for him is to leave and make a life for himself.

-Yes, I completely agree, that boy is a liability!

-Grandpa, where did you come from?

-From another room, I definitely wasn’t hiding behind the fridge.

-Won’t Sugar have a hard time living alone?

-He should have thought of that before he destroyed his marriage!

-Didn’t you have an affair with Max Flexor?

-Yes but I wasn’t stupid enough to get caught!

-I don’t know guys, I feel like you two have another agenda.

-Us?? An agenda???

-HAHAHA oh son, you are funny! It will be a cold day in Hell when your grandpa and I are not completely honest and selfless!

-Hey guys, did you tell him about kicking Sugar out on his ass yet?

-GET OUT OF HERE, SHAJAR

-So Mom and Grandpa want me to kick out Sugar.

-What? And who will change the baby’s diapers?? iVan who’s having a mental breakdown???

-𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝙰𝙻𝙻 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙶𝙸𝚁𝙻𝚂 𝚂𝙰𝚈 𝙸'𝙼 𝙿𝚁𝙴𝚃𝚃𝚈 𝙵𝙻𝚈 𝙵𝙾𝚁 𝙰𝙽 𝙰𝙸🎵

Ngl, I am starting to feel living in our crypt might not be the best lifepath for Sugar. I mean he doesn’t even have a roommate after, you know, he killed Sandy. Ok Sugar, I’m gonna give you one more chance at a family..

..it’s over for you, Matthew Picaso! That’s what you get for pissing me off that time Sophito kept asking you out.

-JESSICA HOW COULD CHEAT ON ME WITH THIS FREAKSHOW

-I COULDNT HELP IT MATTHEW, WE HAVE THE SAME FACE TEMPLATE. IT WAS FATE

-Jess, I know this is fast as you got divorced 2 hours ago, but when you know, you know! Marry me and let’s fill this neighborhood with our face template!

-Oh Sugar, of course I will!

-It’s happening. It’s finally happening. I’M SO HAPPY

Ok Jojo calm down.

-I CAN’T.

I gave Jess a nice gothic makeover and moved them into this beautiful Victorian house I of course didn’t build-

-and it’s wedding time!

-OH GOD THIS IS THE HAPPIEST DAY OF MY LIFE

We adopted a bunch of pets from Wulf..

..and even Claire (who has a hot new look and a great life which I will cover in the next spare update) shockingly agreed to come over and let bygones be bygones, guaranteeing a more normal co-parenting situation than Sugar barging in her house to beat up Wilfred. Magnanimous queen!

-I’m literally too rich and successful to hold grudges, getting divorced from Sugar was the best thing to ever happen to me!

LOL. Well point is everything was going well-

-AND THEN SUGAR TRIED TO HAVE ANOTHER AUTONOMOUS AFFAIR WITH SOMEONE HE BROUGHT HOME FROM WORK. SUGAR WTF IS YOUR PROBLEM. WHO DOES THIS IN FRONT OF THEIR WIFE, THAT COWORKER DOESNT EVEN LIKE YOU

-I DON’T CARE. I’M NOT MADE FOR MARRIAGE I CAN’T DO IT

HOLY HELL

-GET OUT OF HERE ASSHOLE I CAN’T BELIEVE I RUINED MY MARRIAGE FOR YOU

-OH NOOOOO I’M SO SAD. Don’t worry my bags are already packed!

-Welcome back bro, don’t worry, you’ll always be in the Dean’s List of my heart!

-NO. NO. YOU WERE GONE. I WATCHED YOU LEAVE. GO BACK TO YOUR WIFE RIGHT NOW

-I AM WIFELESS AND I’M NEVER LEAVING AGAIN. I WILL DIE RIGHT WHERE I WAS BORN: IN YOUR FRONT YARD

-YOU’LL DIE SOONER THAN YOU THINK IF YOU DONT GET THE FUCK OUT

-SOPHITO IS THE DEMOCRATICALLY ELECTED HEIR AND HE SAID I’M WELCOME TO STAY. YOU HAVE NO POWER OVER ME

-WHY YOU DON-NOSED, TWICE-DIVORCED LITTLE BASTARD. GET OUT OF MY SIGHT

-I’M GOING BUT ONLY BECAUSE I WANT TO

-Aaaah, it’s good to be back in my crypt where I belong! Who should I marry and divorce next? Uncle Daniel’s wife is pretty hot.

Sugar istg.

#gen 4 #ts2

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sassykattery · 2 years

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A Divine Triad, Pt. 2

Welcome to Part 2 of "A Divine Triad." This chapter is pure smut so if you would like to skip it, you can read until the pink asterisk, and then you won't miss anything important to the story.

CW: MC is afab, she/her pronouns used, filthy smut, f! receiving penetrative and oral, profane language, daddy dom, sub+brat reader, graphic descriptions of sexual acts, graphic description of male and female genitalia, overstimulation, choking, creampie, use of words: daddy, slut, sinner, good girl

*=smut scene coming

Themes: Sex, smut, LuciferxMC

Characters: Lucifer, MC="You"

Minors and Ageless blogs DNI

18+ only

Masterlist

When you two were sure Asmo and Mammon were gone, you started giggling. You lightly smacked his chest.

"How dare you! That was embarrassing!" you said between giggles.

"I know and you were very cute," he replied, mischief dancing in his eyes. "But you seemed to have joined in on the joke too."

"I had to get them to leave somehow," you stated playfully.

Lucifer sighed, "Unfortunately, yes." He proceeded to peak his head around yours and look down your body, then back to your face. "I'm not opposed to keeping you like this, though, or a round two," he said with a grin.

"Mm, I'm tempted, but I do believe someone really will kick down the door if we do, and then what?" you mused aloud.

"I suppose we could just keep going like the scene I witnessed in Asmo's bathroom," Lucifer replied in annoyance but also in amusement. You blushed at the thought of that. He noticed and inquired to it, "What? You don't want an audience?" he teased.

"Surely not when it's your brothers walking in on us!" you gasped. Lucifer chuckled.

"Maybe they'd learn their lesson," he replied.

"I think I would rather die," you retorted. Lucifer's face fell when you said that, no longer finding the humor in the present moment. You noticed this change and said, "I don't mean literally die. I'd die of embarrassment, metaphorically."

Lucifer's expression still didn't budge. Even after all this time, your death is something he wouldn't allow himself to think about, at least not in grave detail or for more than a moment, nor would he let others entertain it in his presence. Your life was sacred and a treasure to him, and the thought of it ending was too much for him. If he could guarantee your life to be everlasting, he would be far happier.

You remembered something. "Lucifer," you said, pulling him from his thoughts. He looked up at you once more.

"Yes, dove?"

"You said something earlier," you replied.

"And what was that?" Lucifer inquired.

"Well, I want to tell you something first," you said with a smile tugging at your lips. He waited patiently for you to say whatever was on your mind.

Leaning down and hovering your lips just over his, you whispered, "I love you too," and before he could say anything you captured his lips with yours. Too many thoughts were racing in his mind as your words echoed in his mind. He realized he had said that mid-coitus, but he did in fact mean it.

Once you pulled away, Lucifer pulled you back in for another kiss, putting his hands on the sides of your head. He released your lips and looked you over, "Really?" he whispered, still holding your head.

"Yes, really," you replied with a small smile. He suddenly used his strength to flip you over so that you were now on your back, and he held himself over you with his arms on either side of your head. You gasped and watched him with wide eyes.

*"You don't know how happy you've made me, MC," he said in a low voice. He touched his forehead down to yours. Your hands made their way to his waist, and you tugged. Lucifer laid himself flush on top of you so now you could have the turn with a demon for a weighted blanket. The two of you held each other for a little bit, until you noticed something hard poking you in the thigh.

"Lucifer," you whispered. He held himself up again and looked at you, another faint tinge of blush crossing your cheeks and your eyes glazed with lust. You spread your legs out and gently grabbed a hold of his now-throbbing cock, slowly stroking it. A hiss escaped his lips and his eyes trailed down to where your hand was working him.

He watched for a moment, licking his lips, and then grabbed your hand that was on his cock. He kissed your inner wrist while making eye contact and stretched your arm over your head. Leaning on that arm, he grabbed your other arm with his free hand and also brought it above your head. Without much assistance, he brought his hips down and slid right into your dripping entrance, all the way to the hilt.

"Ah, Luci," you called out to him in a breathy moan.

"You're going to be good for me, right dove?" he growled at you. You gasped.

"I'll be good," you whimpered. He then started rocking his hips, causing his dick to rub deep inside your core over and over in the same sweet spot, and it quickly became overstimulating for you. Your hips worked against you and rocked in sync with his, deepening his penetration and hitting even sweeter spots inside.

"Pl-please, Luci," you cried out. He smirked.

"You said you'd be good for me," he replied. "Is this too much?" he teased, burying himself with a harsh thrust causing you to sob.

"I-I can't-" you stammered. Giving in to you, he finally shifted back, now delivering full, deep strokes so he could feel every inch of your quivering pussy that made the most delicious wet sounds. The feelings of overstimulation were fading, now being replaced with ecstasy as you desperately clenched at his cock with each withdrawal. Slowing his thrusts, he was much more precise and methodical. He watched your expression as you savored how he filled you completely and took it away, but you loved every second of feeling his dick stroke your insides.

Very suddenly, he withdrew from you. You immediately popped your head up and glared at him. With a deep smirk, he lowered himself down to plant kisses down your chest, stomach, and backing all the way down to your dripping sex. While keeping eye contact with you, he lowered his mouth to your slick lips, giving a feather-light kiss that elicited a gasp from you. His hands pushed on your thighs to spread them for him, squeezing the innermost part of them. You blushed furiously as he continued to hold your gaze, sending his tongue to attack your clit. This caused you to jolt and squirm, but his hands, now placed on your hips, held you in place.

He hummed against your clit, the vibrations causing your breath to hitch while unbridled pleasure circulated in the depths of your core. One of his hands broke from its grip on your hip to slip two fingers into your entrance effortlessly.

"Ah! Ahh, wait-" you whimpered, unable to get a hold of yourself in the moment. You brought one of your hands to cover your mouth in embarrassment. Something in the way he looked up at you from in-between your thighs, knowing just how to drive your desire up the wall, it made you wild and flustered.

Just then, he started pumping his fingers with a slow pace that quickly escalated, making your whimpers turn into repeated sobs and pleas, for what you didn't know, because the corners of your mind were falling away into nothing but the thought of reaching for that orgasm nearing. Lucifer admired your writhing body, how there were plumes of red all over, the heat of your skin was searing into his wherever he touched you.

Your walls started to crash and tighten against his digits, and your face was contorted in pleasure, hips bucking into his ministrations. Lucifer knew you were close, and he drove you to it as his tongue dove to mercilessly swipe at your clit repeatedly. Just as you were on the precipice, he quickly removed his mouth and fingers from your core, and with what seemed like lightning speed to you he crawled back up your body to sink his cock into once more, to finish what he started.

His cock filled you back up and endlessly kissed your sweetest spots over and over. Your body was tensing up and you simply couldn't handle it anymore.

"Please, Luci-" you whined. "I need you closer," you said while reaching around his back to pull him to you. He complied and laid flush against you, his hands gripping the pillow behind your head. You brought your hands back to sink under his, so that you were holding hands with your fingers interlaced. Lucifer's lips found yours once more and went to war with your tongue in desperation. His hips were slamming into yours, going faster and faster, bullying his dick into your pussy.

Your scream never made it past his mouth as the shockwaves of pleasure hit you. One. Two. Three. They wouldn't stop. The pulsations were so intense your hips bucked upward into Lucifer's, much to his own surprise, and he pulled his lips away to press his mouth into your ear.

"Oh, fuck that feels good. Cum on my cock, darling. I want to hear you scream for me. Tell everyone who makes you feel so good," he whispered. His hot breath tickled your neck, his words driving you higher, further adding to the convulsions that racked through your whole body. Only his name escaped your lips in a drawn-out string of moans at a high volume, but to you it was a distant echo compared to the roaring in your ears.

Hearing this sent Lucifer over the edge as well, and he groaned his own strings of "Oh fuck" over and over as he continuously rammed his dick inside of you, coating your walls with his cum. But he wasn't done, not yet. Lucifer wanted you to be absolutely fucked out and past the point of no return. He kept ramming into your gushy pussy and pulled up to look at you in a state of pure bliss.

In your mind, you realized he wasn't stopping, and the orgasm wasn't faltering like it normally did. The waves of ecstasy refused to quit crashing into you as he pressed your spongey buttons with the head of his cock. When he did this, fucking you way past the point you could normally handle, that carnal piece of you crept out from the depths of your soul; that part that only he drew out.

Your eyes flew open in shock as you reached another height, only to see Lucifer fucking you in his demon form. He knew that when you reached this point, it brought out something in him too. It was that desire to consume you entirely, to have your body and soul only be his, combined with the desire to give you everything you want: it was his demonic nature.

He removed himself from you and flipped you over. You pushed your head into the pillow and chest to the mattress while holding your ass in the air, knees digging into the mattress.

"Good girl," he growled at you, knowing you knew exactly what to do. He grabbed your ass and squeezed it hard. He lined himself up to you and rutted his hips into your ass, causing you to moan into the pillow as he filled your cunt back up. The new sensations that came from this position made your core flutter against his cock, savoring how he precisely and perfectly fucked you.

"Mm, give me your arms," he demanded. You held them back and he bent them into a hold behind your back with one hand. He yanked on them, causing you bring your torso up so your back was flush with his chest. His other hand grasped your throat, squeezing the sides of your neck. Your moans were choked out by his grip, causing your pussy to become even wetter, all while he still relentlessly running his cock through you.

He chuckled into your ear and nibbled on it before saying, "I can't hear you. Let Daddy know how much you love this, my little dove." He relinquished the hold on your throat in favor of sending his hand down to massage one of your breasts, rolling your nipple in-between his fingers.

You moaned out, "I love this so much Daddy, please k-keep going."

"Mm, you do love my cock, don't you? Tell me you do," he grunted, tightening his grip on your arms. A half-smile crossed your lips knowing the Avatar of Pride wanted to hear you stroke his ego.

"I love your cock, it makes me feel so good, Daddy. Don't stop fucking me, I love it so much. You always know exactly what I like. I just want to be your little slut," you called out to him.

That wicked smile of yours grew deeper when you felt him tense up behind you upon hearing your delicious words. As much as he knew exactly what you liked, you paid attention to him as well. Both of you saying things that'd never cross your lips in any other setting, only with each other, simultaneously stroking both your egos.

He nearly went feral hearing you speak like that, just one more push and you would be demolished by this demon, and you knew it with the way his movements were becoming erratic and less precise. He snapped and said in a tense whisper, "Easy, dove. I'll break you if you keep talking like that."

You were close to another release, and you knew you were reaching your limits as your body was weakening with emotional and physical exhaustion. Lucifer felt you melting as well. Your moans turned to sobbing whines.

"Please Daddy! Make me your little slut and break me. I just want to cum on your cock, you're so good at fucking me. Please, please, please!" you cried out.

Lucifer groaned, released your arms, and pushed you forward back onto the mattress and laid on top of you as he fucked into you as hard as he could allow without hurting you too much. The pillow in your face muffled your screams of powerful orgasmic pleasure and absorbed your tears. He buried his face into the top of your shoulder and bit into your soft flesh, muffling his low cries of his own orgasm, with his hands digging into your waist. Together, you both found your release and writhed, bodies melding together in mutual euphoria.

There you both lay, a mess of sweat, heat, and ragged breaths. The sight of you two would've made for a beautiful painting: the two sinners laid out, the fallen angel and former pride of the heavens in his demon form, on top of a human, the object of all his desires and one he would willingly fulfill all of their whims, while they wandered into cosmic limbo post-orgasm.

*After a minute, Lucifer could still feel you trembling and what felt like sobbing beneath him. He withdrew and got to his knees, so he was no longer directly on top of you.

"Darling?" he called out to you. He grabbed your shoulder and gently pulled you to lay on your back. Tears streamed down your face, but you looked absolutely exhausted. He used a thumb to wipe away your tears. "Are you okay? Did I hurt you?" his voice was laced with deep concern.

You shook your head and gave a weak smile to try and let him know you were fine. "I'm fine, it was just a lot," you whispered.

"Can I do anything for you?" he asked while sweeping the hair off your face.

You smiled again, or tried to, and said, "Can we just cuddle for a while?" He nodded and laid to one side at an angle, and pulled you into his embrace, and he let his wings fall and relax on the two of you, acting as a shield from the rest of the world.

Masterlist

Thank you for reading~ <3

Post made by sassykattery. Do not repost. Likes and reblogs appreciated.

#obey me shall we date #obey me #obey me mc #obey me lucifer #obey me fanfic #obey me smut #lucifer x female reader #lucifer x mc #lucifer smut #love eternal

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kaylas-world-0 · 2 years

Text

⁀➷ 𝐇𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐄𝐄𝐊

Masterlist

𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐃: Yes || No

Pairings: Shard x f!reader

Summary; You and Shard will have a wonderful time dancing.

A/n: Does anyone want to be in the tag list?

AFAB/Female Reader// comfort

¡There is no warnings!

Word Count: 859

𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐅𝐔𝐍❕️

★ 𝗬𝗼𝘂 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗻𝘂𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝘀𝗰𝗿𝗶𝗯𝗯𝗹𝗲 𝗱𝗼𝘄𝗻 on your notebook while listening to a song you adore.

You start to hum synced with the song while looking at your 'amazing' drawings. You may not be a good artist, but you still like to draw. So you start to practice everyday to be better at least.

You giggled at your drawings. You sketched a few things you saw around.

But what you liked the most was in the center of the notebook, your amazing boyfriend. He's a 'secret freedom fighter', so your relationship shouldn't be in public. You watched him when he once fought near you with the badniks. You admire his 'innate' talents. You drew him ready to shoot anyone trying to get near you.

You awed how good you drawed his body. He looks really cool pointing his cannon up ahead with a serious face. You wished you hadn't forgotten to bring your sketchbook so you could at least draw this on a more professional paper.

You wanted to take a walk around the forest and decided to draw a few things you saw. You are now sitting by a lake under a cherry tree. It was already bloomed and it looks so nice with the pink flowers on it. You wish you were an amazing artist like Leonardo or Picasso, so you could draw this beautiful view.

You sigh and lean on the tree you are sitting at. You look up to the cloudless blue sky when you hear a humming. You already knew who it was.

You smile when he lands on the other side of the lake. You bite your lip when he looks around. He knew you were here but couldn't seem to detect you, yet. That's because you are hiding. You wanted to be playful today.

You laugh mentally when you see his confused face. He is getting near your hiding place so you quietly but fastly collect your things on your lap and slowly crawl towards the opposite direction.

You gasped when your earphone's cable accidently disconnected from your phone and the loud music started to play on the speaker. You quickly close the music and look around in fear, hoping he didn't heard that.

When you couldn't get any sight of your boyfriend, you gulp down. The forest now seems much quieter than usual. You look around nervously while slowly getting out of the bushes, leaving your belongings behind.

You yelped when strong metal arms wrapped around your waist and swept you off of your feet from the ground and spun you around.

You two laughed wholeheartedly. He put you down gently. He gently holds your jaw forcing you to look at his green optics, "Gotcha." he winked.

You blushed and pouted, "I was hoping we could keep this up a little bit longer."

"You're enjoying seeing me struggle aren't you?" he chuckled.

You gently push his body, "Pff- What? Me? Never!" You laughed and started to collect your belongings from the ground.

He helped out, before you can even reach out and pick up your phone from his hand he quickly takes it away from your reach.

"Hey!"

He chuckled, "If you want your phone back, you need to fight for it!"

You raise a brow and pout, "Fight? I'm not claiming that I can't kick your nonexisting butt but--"

He smirked, "Not that kind of fight! A dance off!" he looked amused.

You raise a brow, "You are challenging me in a dance fight?"

"Correct!"

"What? Are you gonna do a robot dance or something?" You chuckled.

He smirked, "Don't underestimate me, sweetheart. My dancing skills are as good as my fighting skills."

"We'll see that! You made a grave mistake! I am the Queen of Dancing!!" I smirked pridefully.

He grinned, "Let's start then."

He throws up the phone and casually catches it with a cocky smirk, "If you win you can take your phone back but if I win... Hmm, I'll think about it when I do."

You smirked, "Don't be so confident now. When I win, your pride won't gonna change anything." You spoke determinedly.

He chuckled and quickly pressed start, 'Sway by Michael Buble' came from the speakers.

He only tapped his foot the first few seconds then quickly twirled around you, surprising you.

He takes your hand on his and pulls you closer to him. Your hands and 'souls' connected, he placed his cannon on your waist. He leads you around, slowly twirling.

He gently spins you around yourself and dips you while supporting your waist with his cannon.

He winked and you slightly blush while smiling softly. He quickly pulls you close to him and he starts to lead you in his 'stage'.

He lifts you off of your feet from the ground and spins you around again.

He gently puts you down and continues to dance with you.

You whispered, "I thought this was a dance off."

He 'breathed' a laugh, "I can't help myself."

You giggled, "I was excited to win though."

"I know." he left a soft kiss on your cheek, "But you already winned my heart."

You blushed and hid your face on his chest. He laughed and slowly caressed your hair passionately.

He leans on your ear, "Btw, I really like how you draw me." Voice husky and low.

You two continue to dance even though the music is already over.

63 notes · View notes

oceanlue · 2 years

Text

(Y/n): I like my coffee like I like my men

(Y/n): *sips tea with alphonse and seth*

___________

Seth: hay alphonse

Alphonse : who are you???

Seth: seriously we live in the same house

}Later{

Charlie: oh hi alphonse

Alphonse: whu??? Do I know you?

Charlie: I have literally been to your house

}even later{

Y/n : oh hi alphonse

Alphonse: do I know you??

Y/n : I am literally DATING YOU!

___________

Y/n: I HATE YOU !!

Faust : oh well next time don't steal my Monopoly!!

Auron: *sigh* y/n give faust your $200 you landed on his property

Y/n: no he's in jail I'm not going to give money to a criminal!

Faust: that's not how you PLAYYYYYYYY!!!

Finn: why are they screaming

Auron: shut the F*^$ up finn you don't get to talk after stealing my last Railroad!!

Faust: I WISH I WAS NEVER BORN !!

Y/n: ME TOO!!

Auron: YOU THINK I WANTED THIS !!

Finn being sacred: AAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!

___________

Alphonse:Why you sad

Seth: I don't know

Y/n : just for no reason?

Seth: Oh no there are plenty of reasons I'm just not sure which one it is

___________

Charlie: Can I have another cookie

Auron: Well what did y/n say

Charlie: they said no

Auron: then why would I say yes

Charlie: because there not the boss of you

Auron:.............

Auron internally: it's a trap it's a trap it's a trap

_________

Auron: I have feelings for you

Faust: you do!!

Auron: yes, I feel you're really annoying

_________

Y/n : you always look so unapproachable

Auron: and yet here you are

________

Charlie: *kicks the "G" off the grave yard sign*

Faust: lets get this party started

_________

Y/n : Have you seen a person named "seth" around here?

Finn: Yes, he made a horrible mess of the blood fountain

Alphonse: *looks at it* looks fine to me

Finn: IT USED TO BE WATER!

__________

Y/n : Can I be frank with you guys

Alphonse: sure, but I don't see how changing your name is going to be help

Seth: can still be seth

Alphonse: shh, let frank speak

_______

Y/n : You lying cheating piece of s&%$

Auron : oh yeah you're the idiot who thinks you can get away with with everything you do, WELCOME TO THE REAL WORLD

Y/n : I'm leaving you and I'm taking faust and charlie with me

Finn picking up the Monopoly board: I think we're going to stop playing now

_________

Y/n : in your opinion, what's the height of stupidity

Auron: *looks at Derek* how tall are you

___________

Alphonse being dramatic: she was poetry, but he couldn't read

Seth : his name is jurred, he's nineteen

Y/n: when his parents built a very strange machine

Finn: watch that scene dig it, the dancing queen

Faust: EEEEEY MACARENA

Auron: horrible job, everyone

__________

Alphonse: hehehehhehehe

Seth: what's wrong with him

Y/n: .....Don't know

___________

#yuurivoice auron #yuurivoice #yuurivoice alphonse #yuurivoice finn #yuurivoice seth #yuurivoice faust #yuurivoice charlie

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libidomechanica · 3 months

Text

“Beautiful seeds to feed on thy sorrow is there was hid”

A ballad sequence

At stool, downing day: or Diggon. Augur me be by the ground; by love; or if thus attack, and hawthorn-hedge, and your

mouth of all my good Hobbin, ah hobbinol, thy look to shadows white hand anon a smock; or Sappho’s she, too, such

with gushing else swoon, grave and midnight, and forever a vice. Warm Frenchmen never the world, with that speech did euer at

ease; he loved on him; Juan, in warm white through trust to musick lendeth, while thus his lip to hear men desires. Parley,

to longer time he vomit. By seeing grace, or as Anacreon old; not, when this blood! But none save that foreigne with

looks yielding might berries and her shame willow learned again forgive; obliged to thee: whatever dies, like these, I’m

o’er a name, and worthy trunk as a holy Angels will in which so longer mourne, but her friend; I told him whisper’d,

passion on his intently bent, and simplicity, and those who standing she dieth! Now say on Diggon. I swallow

jinkin’ round the rainbow of desert rove over tedious lip, gorgonised me dearly know, a man mad all

my dream of the crime. Let me whole. Of Hate, and the lofty service to grow; but I lookèd right, despite. Then ply they sowed;

they gazed till they measure and made a flower in the oar grew, and never looked dollars for ballad gallant and swore

that a shorewards! Beautiful seeds to feed on thy sorrow is there was hid. For them, but her naked trees, first my

lambs are but thy with shall maskes my poor name days. Lurk and four greatness. And let me ride their your eares vnto my heart

of Heaven gave back decades, though ye be, yet can names are brief. Short solace, a patted and every best. They hurt me.

To you, whiles of the pale state, majestical. I loved, and as this daughter Briar Rose and hath no great; a knaves, the

ravisht, staid novenas to my head last, if she wreath, the fire was angry with Absence vaile, they were might display’d deep

blood and began they gave that I can, which my pride those world destroy. Save chased away his am’rous you we’ and knock-out

dropped cantana of the will said she oh no stay to the night and file of the day, and bud about me to the shade.

When my dreams. Thou wilt restore, but in the pursuing on his, and kick your hand for human �� face … such hands could showe: let dame and ripens mind, about supernovas, and taken

breath, forbeare his lines clawed in their common ground these band happy love always cut him all along thee his arms, and ioye, for fame debtor fortune deal, robert Burns: country know. For

thy wife put on mee: what were choppers seek the human vanity, albeit Leander cried, th’ enchanted arrow sharp knife thorough to-day they contest. Some have made

to be so dight: but strange stage be, who like to all get, they dances soft: and I thee as each others of hers like to thy marble, I needed, for in the blame, with foldes yeeld

at dawn are hath so wild warblings beare, beeing furrows perchaunced to loves our evening of life. Madness such cunningly he cries: my foe camel’s foot, how sudden those performed to

have change of cloudwhite Alps along time came so nobly had lyed; I said she may i touch is muffled, and the place in, and friesing while I kiss me speakest to cry o, let me

vision on fewe such bring you wilt swim in their will of tall grassie great Pan boughes the moth for thy face so sooner was his lips and from here is far to me for moe. If Queens and

he lay and tomorrow cheer; the cloudes wexen clear sparkles did ensue, but even as singing with his wide, a thirst of all about this your unguarded, released amid

their placed, and eke your foot on a wedgewood plates he ask. By that look: already donne. That vnto the yield, pipe began to speak of day? Out of a great which public strife arose, and

bore anxious forth. Whenever sayne, other with a chilles’ tomb, until put it in thee. What men dismiss’d her sounds to looke, at my forehead gazers sight? To thee, Cogniac! I wish

to hold.—Thy adverse my dear merit? Wherein these notes entendeth! As flies, and which did flowrd, and thoughts, doe beare borrow, come in their charmingly sweet harmony with honor, or

they sought neuer thing, fell Death, tho’ daily anodyne, and fife to thou to get my place of the cared to melt th’ unguarded, reliable, but in all, she strip mall, I

put away theekit cot; then by that ever, reach’d upon his own identity; that sicken from my song of crews as renews; the flower said not a wh—re. And purling

silver death of glisten to the shake of mi skirtful torch of British stared he had spoke, he gained; rude work required, the early known the come then turn’d to menage loathsome contest.

As renegadoes; while, going. And swore her flash to hold the whose circle of Delights she meadows in virtue, with

many an islander the faculty smooth speech faltering cloudwhite stars its suit thy nervous verse seekes for spite

but the squally to follow him, and understand. He would move to ever to think I should kisses of one generous

and short tunes? As if by force were fancy flatterer neuer shine day resigned, he fellow, while the pairtrick whirring

of a loving from her Cheek, the brake a still, patchy and said, how oft saw thee breeze with them in touch of love concerned

zeal; ill surprise, that pricket bleeping, she made, their charming up forever. Gazing on a garden gate, pulling

shoes were denied, bear to kill the glen; and vouchsafe the future than this golden hook, to served your Pasimond purge from

their faye. To see her mines, and laughing still unravished man, and Grisi’s existence children still he stated me

who art dearly t would be the daffadowndillies dight, and, who would be grau’d in each, spirit and glory, for whom

I cold, but slow? Sex a tyrannous, but after I am gone, leave the faileth: but I, my miserable design

to see, like Lucifer what we say, whose steps bend; our heroes, kings whom she fled, of sweet harmony without know that

weighed out, and hardly fitted to be enrich help a little make a bird. I said, and have wronged to me, rich in the

long with azure robe I did lie deepest instrument; and given the world’s blames object to no end, we often look’d!

”— Nature of mine own bud buried. That looke her as dew, impetuous as rain, rain clings despising his mind desolate,

its would remove me. To heart, be thine, O that there is lost, and his palate urge, as, to keep those thick solitary

Child. Of Alpine hollow to places were maysters thus hissing hair, collarless, fence of that purple school-boy feel?

Gathering on his rich in the lily leaves me how his lovers late will be missed Briar Rose but that ye maun hae their

world on Lethe, neither couple, for ever lonely wild: but love to great need me. A hundred I were but my fellow,

who durst his rival Pasimond had leave, weave to amends forth plunged for him over all away. And lying on he

rode down from slimy nest a little fell,—she that died was, alas why even by light your soul sublime in years were

but good with blot of altered round to bind you shalt taste for proffered and treacherously to strip there Cymon could buy,

that wad make so envious hold sabbaths, less timmer, an’ mosses many seeing jellyfish. The sun’s, and aye she

carven stern, she hath the human clay, the hole inheritrix of false hope is me, my calls you we’ and knew it was

she reflection move, the flying shook heat when only they have it twice is allay’d, so made a pearl in rubies find;

in women of France, those sound: but stay sets you would stay. Thus while the brain, O Lord, lest sorrow’s mysterious rites are

all this or t’other mends, by which she stone to that I an active dower, strength. I wish to hate. But there wasted: the past

his zenith, sweating always much this, all heauens conspird in blacke horrid treacherously flashing from death lodged in any

chronicle of life, for fear the field where is, that with rough that when hurl’d from heau’nly And what its own Phaëton.

Like or the spare, my timely far her arms he looks at a cadaver. Man of electrons, so they not weaned till for those, that so fraught, and Love he gaze upon her tower’d thus

adorn; neither cheek, in the showers, and I there I thus were not even love in rank; he gave this ungovernor and gloves; and like return. Who hath bred hys smart, wealth, in ilka

beild! That a crack like his scythe angry Sisters, throws the brain. With an alabaster than Nanie, O. When dismiss her spied a curl that would breeze with a pair; the world enough fast,

he opening field, where Hero, learn’d but to turned them hath broke too, was laid and, where is subdued because these were, and mock you was lethal. These and proved her naked many brittle

stormed got, curst in the your rung, I’m o’er youth with reason no man in me, O; but after year, within that he came and vagrant as thou shalt thou and bear the Throne. Its dwell as

whom heaven gate; a lion near that in Virtue she exercise of chess won’t deny thee? The double men as other’s grape against my supper lips, where Time’s witty, bright, your

name. For your heaven like a boy of truth, truth: no placed, mark if her too. We will not sought; and thirst times are dressed soul is passions of the accidents he used, the iolly shepheard

no singing me, known by thy love, her flie, first of fearful meanings on her lukewarm place and violate accounted loudly, chante blood flowrd, and wild voice, is a liberty is

lever. Whisks it about, and she wrote thine, even so alas why am I in me do flower said novenas to build its nestle in the last can mend; all that each eye

to man, put up a love of our flight, the customer: his suit a blue skies, where was ten colors and she handle so! The tree of Tantalus, she smiles away thee loath to go.

My soul, and night, and do is eloquent, is not then did melt th’ unkind abuse such wondrous bird a-wing …. Seize his frae my mammy yet. That vnto my thou art, in depth of

a plum. And blown by thee forswear that rise fresh case weighs not love, who part take, to each. Wives, and from the Bust and Temple rise—then frog wades; and sweet selfe boye, ah for lady’s love? Not

chuse too long, must babies haue: a rightful children are he love and prove Others pluckt, when it is, what by love—does a lasting, she gazed on his simply using the place and thee

why thou English ground, he turned ladie? Who hath been elsewhere lived at: therefore her look upon the clover leaf, ’ and I listening! A pleasures white fog. Conquest forth from her clouds to fight,

poor silly youth to hold, that louers pitie: looke from its measure; and see even till the photography, with indiscerne the wind; and it grew pale, beside to shun which, light and pity

as men might steal on mee: what excuses did not so much heauens conspird in one women, calling silk: that brutal place in the garters was by one, into the word EVIL.

Of Jealous leasure ye even in slumber, but in thy honour died. A pale, pale, and lips, except in autumn robben one ashamed, whose joys divine and Juan for ever piping

sways, yet for an instant and still pursutes of op’ning sword; ’ so Lambro once grownd, and, saying that euen hell her ear. Forth his face was swaying with Susan! Which hovers ill?

Too much sense: in malice bare; stern, Child, gaue her eyes my wife, and life in hir whom winged his come, where the nice admired

even in the maintain. With all the Princesses of Briar Rose and be burnish’d into and the field of pain—even

while you all earth her honeyed years after that hour wives, and curst invented, viewing Leander’d angel of the dove.

Lest unawares while I’m afraid. Flowing to hold, with threads the odour which colours the grant hight. He is kindly, I

think, nor bring the mud. Rain came two cotton stroke her fear of sovereign Assembleme. Not free. That a cadaver. Might breed.

And red for his Supremacy. Whisks it always close of the female, that none burned, and write, the clouds and only Drink

that same forced every human, all shot back these hanging maids bore; nor let the more splendour hung alone, thus some to unrest,

reclining severe distract insight with that I thus replied. To love be so belong, all wealthy horse, your vows,

and mused he had eft learnd changing after-loss: ah, do not known, by his Truth, beneath the memory’s but the walls, all

upon my radiant Hero dwellings charms, a point therefore, yet, belied, twelve daughters are; for liker bene vayne: colin

the laws, and at once she essay’d in stakes her earth, and stern she saw him, a blustring balks each rope distinct, nor that

room is eel-black. Till oftentimes into regions find his clownish mien, a voice like a pretty ruth upon the sheaves

were once might perfect wert, borne in good and ran, but the porch … year and wither’d into her safe. And I will shalt tasted,

drive, a golden Apollo, that I will spend and tomorrow vsing misplaced the Pussy my love! All there’s no copy

now of like joy in me, doth reigneth! Busy old vizier might was more neat wish too, nor of their place my nature

vnidle knowledge of chronicle of all? By what he can jest; and gave, my chamber would look, even Death’s the foam that

gushes, both ioy and bolted themselves on the Bridegroom an old man’s oppressed, which now my seat, proceed, wraceks triumph

is whistling, but on me preuaile, that copy die. Weaving crone at all, or a great pitie louers pitie: looke here arms, or his

triple mace, returne with them away! I’m o’er young, so gentle you, to you, while her dangers Cupid’s goods where among.

What! An injured by the most spent.— Jamie, come to say him some of behaves, all she goes and sing in secret influence

came to marry yet; the burned, but was sweet Waters and thing orb were in sports in fury of his frae my mare, my

lord and briers. Withheld him with its hand. At length awake! The sole enemy’s hollow to pleasure, no passion gave the

faire, and tender; and take all earth from wherein with thee, as law requited. A rose-bud by mistakable design,

they saw not worth, retrieves as ill with a pink wave state, was morning purple Cullambine, which long, the dead; lastly, safely

build, where we stayes to seized the climes the less in sex and years our parting, by some preuaile, his bride. The mortar

already were: the vain: the mind or breast. A rose-leaves with smiled, hissing to be an odd breed or unfastened the world

we should have sipped at last, like foule leasured much he defies, but now despair, on tremor came, and heavy cheek,

a speake no stout, defend there’s eglantine, her loath. A things. All the ground his own thrall, or horse is due: only in

you deserve without a great with his own. Books that sith thee, cheeped, trilled with wine and surrender lay in the snow.

Then the hour dear Madam, to destroy. A Ladde, who in a strange in vain disgrace, it did spredde, and tall and best this even

her the valley of evening on your souls than you could no lamented, to life the death with so he would breeding

flies, thou wilt, but the son’s halls, lady fellows white, alike to walk … if simply using my darling eye, bright of that

his palms tip toward the November of their love! Pictures we had open; but the terrible redundancy is will

before all my woes th’ afflicted manners taught that hue; blue evenings towards itself unseen to pass our long her

dear friend scrawled on him, I will be his: her sepulchral gloom, light of frosty Night had a mother, and the right present

silly swords. Seeming locke, fast in aspire. The mirror, as half-serious lest his broadcast live, to make a wee, and

these loved? Was strowed to see againe. Said the ghost of us: that for him his hand. The shall love sails to me the faults

down,—burst, she streams of gathering itself divine, but health breaths stab, so to sea in a kind religion, and thou art

a diuell, that huge and let her rugs and this clownish mien, a voice cared fortunes, and sweet isle they be, i’m welcome try me.

Ay me, Leander cried, th’ enamoured.—The honey bag from mine hills where Simmer shines, and there! They bees have

both sides find the tardy day: but no one, the fairies take here fancy was the poor dress’d the grass a crystal spring,

we were would depart that Vertue hath thou to whom my Maw. Worn out in their end, a supernovas, and some, which euen to

the sun blind forlorn, from an orient day, and myself I’ll sterued with a steadily, there is nowhere, for fun

watch her in her icy breath the Revenge from their doctrine, and the world’s soul gan to weave this is a dole, that night:

so, love, yet, lilies fair guest. Thirty year, David or the Eleusinian cave—such as the grasshoppers seek out the

clime, nowe louers; see now, like a Miss America! Seeing jets black, brown, on all, subject to the postponed disclosed her

speake not why, but the blue halo of flies a breach other with the deadly fatal day, almost heard mought it just a

life one bands and kissed his chiefe fall against us and red— one on the brain its sweet society; even for the

angels, but signals, that room goes by love and beats in a country-fair. And wonders, words, which ran o’er; and let the distress,

pretty pilfering came on, not Number, but, wretch as spotless Jeanie to the certains doth moon up with me tie

are humble at my selfishness; thou, running. Without you see the red begonia perilous beast! And the complied.

She dwell that it half: leave will now so goes by love come to me. As, to heauen is to make the water-side, Eyes like praye,

or that loose desire; his hear sighs o’er young, whose nonsense my jade; since the goddess of my mind and body torn

apartment: with this beams within, maud has becoming, I could marry yet; I’m o’er young, I’m o’er young, I’m feared of the sought.

And best can ne’er answers to the preserved fortunate last sentence. It once romantic boring cry: every part, then

can I fly no face engrost; without spare formed got, curst in peace and plied the old Lambro bade the nose of youth to die,

or vice what the power depose. Upon Maud’s own selues abused when my daughter’s too longest, or stained to dwell: dear

heart. The view; sure, and white with rocks the world, if Queens and Daies, a song to go wide. And now Leander, how I do love.

Tell me, Jamie, come try me, or when she: What may I grant as Job; and pity as men say, though in all faith no ladye—

love disdains to have the losers talk like more shee strived, expecting to the song the liquid kiss, thought: you purchase.

A hundred years shine, even are, you were the king mee; let fops or form, with folly, thoughts of blood fell silence, a rhyming

age without light, as shepeheards do know a moment a topiary so that leaped live for pity’s sake we

any one by one has rolled betray’d. The think of the way, he shortest daughters are hard too; you wilt thought, and by carriage.

Children, wanting roses great dead, the plain terms, without virtuous acts justly ground. A few worlds on world’s starling,

that are two world turn the rising resolves: if not lack, and once been our reverend and further thou art now all my flesh!

And I from her naked neck, like bene a life have concealed betray’d at home sounds convey a melancholy feet.

Business and elbow round and body so young, to see: but to-day by feeding, flaunts about my hear me the seams their

haplesse mought me then you could it know green lesson new you not her, whose black the beach the church the Mower Dame, and all

placed the term virgo? And fell Kai Khusrau, he declares, invades it. Then she love you more girl? Leaving is always make.

Has join, the way. Pure love to them both. In sleeping fond Phant’sies place, nor the faire out strange! But even more paint that love

not on a wild oats in no face of heau’nly stanzas, and said: a little maid in meditation shall try that like

a sad, in midst of birds of prisoner, when thoughtless chastity, but have like your equals he said, sleep must kiss on her,

and rare that eye doth tears, and take your loves the breasts. But strange that body thus him with truth which thou art that clusters voices.

In one is the silent night forth light strength; the great dead. Purification, how the rivulet on grave’s a fault,

seeme his hight, having a good with the placed the first constant, till danced to Cupid’s myrtle wreathed dame. So lost in bounty

chere. Just once lost, whose base delight entertain kind, but sold a fools: reserved your virtuous; what ocean, which now

is think I should not amiss; I have walked the smart. You are broke and worthy trumpets sound wit golden bit where you gave

thorny stalled it vnto the time I have kisses were torn and sky, sports in only seen such pinch a flowery tale o’

love in rank shall live by ways would: and I, ye learned no more? My mother’s looks of soft and evermore her song begin

to turned unbathed, and unders! And raw, long mute the blind Fortune had ne’er-cloying storie. From their young; nae artfu’

wiles. The way I throw my tongue and peeled bits of insult let me sleep? Set, with gladness, modestly buy, if ye could

observ’d the same, and singers seek the yeare wont of yore, is nowhere, between the meadow grass for true spirit work, child!

Which, I prayer: or her eyes dry, season, If you alone, to punish all earth’s human hours as cool well for Elisa be your advice. Vessels side by side my minde. People

in the sound above, a slavering once a mourn no more wretch! Towards that her height wind o’er the best endowed whereas I have stiffe, and anon a spirit works on mine eye: but then

standing deign’d page in a grave unborn, a good humour mouth is a garden in the omen from an orient cheeked Adonis kept with looks back through to save, and figuranti,

they liv’d and felt below. The jealous is, what are my shame, in the bed she best disturb the lily lea? All honor’s grave’s arms of misery, or gazing her deathless all

thing, but to-day by day or two: tis pitying me see what new revived, whom your siluer song of a living. How happy date with graceful solemn love. To blow the voice of

trust above there in a rabbit’s burrow or nest upon me, ’ cried full of fruit. Of thee, and sweet looked like candle-light, never stood on the Sultan has varnish’d the hot race might

be borne Mercury who wit and something it. You see themselves, but the fair she thorn, when in the thus he stood silence embittered shape! He, being new, and the particular

sorrow late, which them whence witty, and wonder dare coming shepherd lad, the future’s darling; why thy early morn, when yawning finger by the promise of friend came tripping away,

as made the lies by the grasp of feelings crost; of death into your parts to virtues may God grant again, and the never dies. Said this ill-wrest; the mountains, but like a prayed

that pulls on thy resort. At length disdaine, please, yet canst not made a dead was you surpassed the with loss of two world is grown modern subject to spy: her hair be tied the grave. From

the heard the press he under our call life of Beauty to dwell: no doomed to live again, every swains, receive perfect cote, or the cheek grew my braunches a’s my real rain, O Lord,

lest sorrowes nothing the Father the mirth as rain, you saw’st yesterday, and would please, cheerefull flame; for one of a plum. Rude words, came songes, lace, vain religion, and such

a tasted, to behold, nor every body’s book fell silenced him, I, assail’d, still doth grow: for ever. But many a face so fast him, thou think, he scann’d her fair; her mouth is

a garden in her brought up forever. Vault, shamefully cry, as, to keep pace; the first their smoking looke in so fast as the fair, ay me so wondrous morning, and twilight.

Vessels sides finger brought to every steep his dunghill, is the angry spinnin’ wheel extermined her the flesh touches

both. And milk and called. Switches between the birds nest; and feet and three paces thunderstand. He saw the struggle grows

the rest wise, and thee his realme of my House, light of violence ever faileth: but when he fairest father’s welcomed

both, not ugly, and our fingers beating gales form adrift between the world’s contrary: and not for me to orphans

you read this druggy sleeping life- giving sways, yet once am settled hours bereft. And we will be fit for ballads

in the ivory skin and shame, where nature in one will state, but they be, or doome stayed so dear. Some say, so beautiful!

And then ye are thee I so dear. But thee I spur, thou still- felt plaguy bill? Skimming late thousand me, for loves thirstye payne. Of individual beautiful Pussy-cat went, as thee will Yes. Should be a stone, and so rich Ocean for them—

they han brewed, the dark eye’s tail up as I said with thou was love of sleep. Kissing melodies are none, I think wave streams is fresh and have come and free, made in labour than a cubit in the gift of the ’Tis death proposing means.

How many seeing insects that kept with a groans, and lose, he gave no sign, save him, and now admitted to soar too much more happy. It make no noise their brave? Will you why. The fat from him ne’er at his banner thus you as goods to hate.

To her heartbeat tell me go with pearl she blush taught this hand is every moment the very free side by side my mild,

take me most attractive place; sylent and afternoon—the last obey, the liberal and the cup, then ours, take back; O!

Through thou the hole in my Glasse shine thou shalt not dream, but tell you might wind, which from his dying hot desire till the

stern winds he past, and gird in our face, the hill; no novel word in memory; the promise tied: twas plentye: and a white

Alps alone in a distant more in Sorrow light, and fair; misshapen stood, its to improves the dewy field man, and

where they roam, by creeks and sing; I chirped, cheeped, trillium or viburnum, by promised length to the year link’d together,

as any other, but bring; to the steuen, lowder had been her father’s dower, especially drunk; proud as sheepes

close: their Lashes pierc’d to be senses to be. What’s the dog, and floats the eldest then ordained by forced to pearl t’adorn

it; her mother’s bed, to tears or mount up to the slime into the same mildly clad; her handmaids are bull, yours, a friend

in its life afternoon where green Shalott. But Fortune amply blessing, about the bound those on for than I. Feel in

those two at Conway dwell in the way. God in tear; by which made a paul; and the old he sat outside your slaue, and went,

and so stiffer thy dear friend! And many a wandering refuge, slipp’ry step is first unfauld herself in every

human shore, which help our evening fire from the air fools enjoy than our waking dried mud from one more a sin to tak

me frae my measure, while laigh destroy. But Time, which is my foot on me; I didn’t be your death the fools: reserve with fraud

and rigged, and Stella hath, will not much to pleasing nurse, and Charles are diuell, those Lockes displease— a most wretch auaile.

Not to loan, in the narrative: The vessel strong as Death, of hatred with azure palace of our shade alone. Helpless chastening beams, and thoughts do they roam; no though deserts of the thine eye, this free, starves howe done, and did duty.

Learning the moment situation. She daily to you well court to seeke famed for pursues youth could be my way. As

much to climb the gaps between the walls were a rook or bishoped for a frenne. An’ few the mournful family store, but

being qualified with hers, will both arrived, boxes evening one after immortal sense: in tracking hair, and raw

in fix’d with man that live for, but as her lies. Each other with one in ground, nor more than the very strong Happiness

all in my corset-lacing a tune I have not one more is think, he speak with ev’ry day has caught: such a guide turned

myself round you, Cymon in their ghost. You could makes not if a thousand are not needs discovering but her flight. A

treasures we see whom Cassandra was not some one were a minister and could be movèd; many flow, and evilly

feign it, whence chase. Want to resume my ioye shepherds’ cells, and wish’d in the sturdy slave to drowned, and, with the gorge

dimensions to this ungovernment at all, were was a madness may see sweet in captive castling still, and of you? Had

we behold. Amid the examined her and from you her song; I a’ the red bee; wishing could never, reach’d upon

a dew, and whistle, and grief is where thou may do right. Of such beauty, blind branch that never come hidder. Receive themselves

so meek, nor death; next, the care and it grew more to burn such heauen gan overhead came that is short tunes all this thro’

Heav’n’s halls, allured to his Haidee’s bitter pleasure too soft& lived—thus defies, but mad pursue howe’er afraid, in view.

I said: Wait up! Thence with you in vowing charily she chain’d, how like a brook the struck two, and these women use but

this trance, such eeking with Phoebus gan availe, the grasshoppers seek for ever a victim and now some name did

beam has too paint or will be devoutly prayed. Gave this burnt by pachas, some on my strange how she is shame with the glaring

spring head such place, nor ever may for, but almost not dissolved in sight wordes to wave rose medled with his

own hand like a scorne. Aspens shiver the outlet the invertest. He had got the heard his laye of fair and prove lucky

Muse they restored. There be not my gout, my feet like breathless sicke, and ever-dying stood in His grace, singing off

Count Cesare Cicogna from Venus keeps learn theyr good: yours to Camelot. But only down weakness was a taste.

In tho could so intending load is much sense, for prepares to frame his brutal song of that are than greaves whose lingers

in the gold and all that bless tears my Foot may be the stuffs, the place opening thee. So these will I gladly darte. Heard

on high jove were buoyant spot, upon his wear the first foe whom not only fix’d pride I pain, my drink water-flower

grace, leave your mouth whom Jove? Lost heart was not my good manners bright, like named her song; I a’ the losers taught he fountains

their round her, in the golden fleece. But this part, the schoolboy? Content who late, the fire filled and what dying Gladiator’s

arm, the forehead I play. Mourns o’er you not! Add one in heaps of grant insects that it might go far, but have felt the

passed his hold a lov’d. Gaze upon his, a friend, child, lovers power. Example pleasure first like a wash, would not blinds.

Rich fooles can it dead, he heart is here! Hand ordure rank of all: which seen me go with an unregard on the hyde

the powd’ry snow that if reveal to one as you love of every part, the flock, that he find some would: and your silly

sword decide, with rayne in warming, it twirls and love to every vulgar thief which down models, such as some small have to

be your slaue, which now my vocabulary. Light from slimy nest than drear flat of euils is spoil the cages of

prophetic; for his to painful eyes beheaded. Making lovers payne, albee my only she is. As well forgot how,

but that dwalt on my soul, who live to a great compare, goes again, she asked on the sun. Could given. All that look’d into

her grave and once, in ermin’d principall.—She warring line vpon her bed. A hundred ye’d spoil the dusky part. Only

for your formalities or his Supremacy. Of what hear men diseased; and, maybe? Arise from New York, lying

the Ring, flaunts of blue: ’ o, Lady, you said and senses to sale sent a bride. Loved out Lowder, without a woman

is at her breathed to the peasant’s shirt for Iphigene I can’t live like two hard hands mighty violence of her beauty

of hidden of France. Wretched love were all holding helpe me then alow; nor stained to be e’er sheep, and what thou shepherd,

sitting or vocal air, their glorious woods and love as it shines. Come and Pasimond had held so deformed be!

Is like honey, wrapped their bear’st then separates were Haidee and part; alas! As he were he court to sit in white and hold you hide; their gifts, I really look there abundancy

is without asking water, runningly required. Weak still, for you, feminine you love the heavens, and scape by the World of the actual light her glad eyes, and suit thy spheres, with

my filial joy? As if to love was by all roll all out this is to poison. And songs and keep his Hell. The fathers not enter is, or my pains, and given us and

heaven so careful king,—the more rich attire: his could they owe; their last obey, the last monotony. And rain, and the Piggy, I will be my corset-lacing. It is

a catch, erring or pure listen to Haidee’s bitter speake of speeches for the long as Death reprov’d to pick of your wives, and thing of prison! Fu’ is his shee is in play, sweet:

tho’ shelter in his by no means new: you’ve to this or t’other Sestos Hero, Hero, Hero! Ruby-lipp’d and whispers, Tis the lands drest? Into the self-same straight fit works in,

like I had at there it was a man, you, when pass-and-repass of perfect is had not your gray old virgin modesty she the dim-gray dawn; but like a celestial feasting

throne? What’s in the world’s most. She live with fullness. To sell of Life, and by my name of yore, your flock, that King when the laws: both of frowning. Ow said she like an odd breeze with transparently

bent to repayre vnto the actually wrapped candid the river-whisper’d, passionate one. Nymph of a contumelious lip, gorgonised me oft to leade your haire with

the rich in the blue eye look’d upon her face was born with heavy ache lay afloat, below each day and bless they could their beards God of human bloom the with his wit that’s too fierce

Pasimond a lawn; thus is still, even as others by man whom Fame at their features with fixed regarded thing deign’d at dawn coming do not to let me better to let him

shamefaced look forwards, in honde, to dally when quak’d, she sharpe desire, and from my soul, who jealousie shall keep mind to selfe to cause of fashioned, and seeks Sol’s past; the vaulted

roof, the sulfuric air, so young heady riots of their hair was sister at his zenith, euer auaile whom the bonie, O. Till cut strangers beating, about thy light shot the

pales beside those fruitful state, majestically drunken poet a genius, and thus. He sought of host to mountain starved, and flew with married, by us; compassion, but beautifully

even there, I haue they doe I loue. Will said the cried full of many a lustful deaths do this prest; and trees, first, and frost and Dafadillies flung arms, and devoutly and

song sighs for the other quit your hath their crimes enjoyer and still to lie wi’ you, lighted saile, that loved, and only path with the beauteous blessed times what wont ligge in each, spirits

touch said it, and in me. Love sailor sings of the churchyard she was hid. And still, and eat my backward. So many, O, the sunbeams do not know not in singlings, and dance witty,

and writes or dancing could looking in more waked he seeme he found about, and the boards ere Abolition; and long, god in a wounded down to us, and with soft&lived at:

then an opium, ratafie and hours skie: who thinking of a sparkling in a mirror, and now by the hues of the mind with follies, all sorted with Lillies set, for, thought.

” A park is purpose, and yet, love. Rank as a sabled, swaying with proud Achilles, and be buxome and propagates

in clover. And of a vanish’d out, as if they marching friend, an eastern age countenance— more a sin to take

in the words my daughter; while the lawn runningly the sun’s rich attire, for unawares while the Mower Dame, and

sight with awful fear not a fountain side, for you, to be with increase: such freends did shine: to- morrow on the bass, the

sea. Now my break of it! His and elbow as I took than for gifts too refined: three A. Her bore his sight? Nor gives then

he farms were these most exceed through Sestos to be. The way right; then dissolved in her thou bring the shepheards the leg muscles

from Michelangelo, hand ordure rankle rounded that white, purl, knot, or sight, the beauty fires the chance to me

do flower and night are things. Now therefore he reason to mix in the commaund: but delight, thoughtless can it turns all

this kind; her heart. And the pearl t’adorn it glistered to Cupid’s day. Meadow grass was bonie hen, it’s not my father’s

face, to my thou shalt taste in the new pleasure suffer pain an image of the same; whether body does not of your

door with a ghastly and Haidee’s known the long from my jewels trifles no better it were of dull and cools not to dwells

in me do frame, and bruises and bent its second pride that stern, she got by degree, while ever— or else was fair hair.

But only the spake, find two books! The womb sucked me oft to leaves, he reaped into his worthy to with arts. Whom men love

that nipt my Flower both sides I cursed the praise beside remote Shalott. That its teeth. There endeavour, content, you lovers

slain by this, singing the valiant overwrought as doth moon bloodless one shepheardes all song to high treasure the

robin coming, Iphigene I claim no cure me. By this, for sense of light have comment merry, a novels e’er shows

their own weakness shall not sought for valour watry bowre: I seek what excuse their vocal air, so youngling it. Whose Lockes

dispel envy and body as well perforce, then Cleopatra lives of his love talke, and still our dear to stood.

Mine: She’s the flatter, which the brain. Lay your Serpents the could example on. There mountains mud; clouds and paid a trade, then, keen leaves be endure till the reason afternoon for shadow,

Rest. This said he not to me there is not thine eyes were not, O doe not,—this is how we tries, that in her sire’s strawberries and paint it. And what’s that neither enough. Thou hast

said, and entering resemblance that blow; threaten with the sky, vaunt in your quainted a purple Cullambine, with plume, rescue-ship through trusty took at least carnival she made

her Ambrosian pap, and base. Add one; a true as was thirty year, my care, already we’re not one discernible flood. Just where is not lose to Loathing was daye light to be

scorn’d, as with hints of earth’s human showed to keep came tripping wind o’er thereon the harpy play, the best this even in ill: tired without know about in the obliged by his

crack like amorous birds of the conjure thought comfort myself I do, doing throng, heaven, lord of his laye of faults, and if my youth’s beauty of breast, all but now she sawe, how

I do appeared, as from your guided weather. Thus may see from its each others are out silvered used sailed unfamilies. The worlds walking inuention to marry yet; then

you might now from an instant Poles have tied to a flames; but the common sense he forehead she wrought. Within us find no faults do thou will not more, with all that Learning alone

is too fickle, or at midnight lament the laws: both rebell tinkling on his ditties or moons the door she got a thousand lilies fairies to the first or last monotony.

Cord. Oft in man’s Foot, lead’st thou of her earth, when he fought to beauty that before, in beauty made certainty, fidelity on the love, tender- taken delves, so that had

taught he hope-hour shame, in winter chance, and such as you we’ and knocked up to hear; by what by love, nor is’t of earth, when I was so ere it fall: dear heart and makes themselves

inseparably light glow’d; on board, without, nor wine, you, by what with she must confesse, which hovers as thou fill But if you’re divine! But Iphigene to Cymon with things of Leander,

beautiful. But you like a prayers of Pasimond, save change to bear, take me will suits hinges relation of either wonder the birdie’s nest, mought I am laughed, being

a song. But mad pursue, but none but passion’s walls, austere, supreme, a gray hairs, and droop’d as well as many are ambitious arm lest and dame Eliza thanks inward went,

full of placed their school boys rewind back to me, and she, with shame loade milk-white as though a door lovers, heaven wide more than those the ear, and not stir she cannot beauty alone

could remember not admire my Sun-flower grace. I sit and form revolving in its fury, and the winds, with his arms were took. Neuer was Woolfe seems they passive arms, with all

in theirs, for foe; but thirst woke some ease, some sleepe. Cupid and milky way; him self excuse wild clock nor asks of moods as made sensation fire: which way they owe; they displease, the fire.

It; her beauty in white. If ever piping sword; ’ so Lambro’s aspect of that was inspired but vow the flow its

way; but filled with forest by cigarette. To resume my heart apace: let none that had been black and seen of wedlock

and kind, and the sheaves, and look on the NY sky but passion more red; she had been teeth, and empty noise, but crown! And

those Love-lock, that I will report,— ’tis here the door ajar so his heat perpetual looked liked a spongy clouds and

praise: the could lay thee galliots, incest, rapes. At night, like as, to pluckt, where have walked about the thing tide of Humber hie,

the air; choose a firm hands. Quiet’s cool well to my arms away the Alamo. I wish to pay for, and Cowslips, except

the love and act our sweet rites in blood. In a few glean’d from thence, and just stepped on war: when it striv’n in vain, which he

skies. Victimized hirelings I never turn its harvest of fear; for they that lurk and power of some hidden troops

her sight, never and content by cool cave and figures of night, and like a coin in Styx; a mortal, and three perfect

wert, borne? But she the different merry hae I better it laye? What’s that which being fast doth endite, all, and thee; but

the pain’d with Idalian tears, and braes, delights he used, and then she story now to die; in iustice but, after being

for a willow lay afloat, below the eldest thy with venom fraught, fast increase, by wind walks o’er its sum, you

are call it with loss of me, or this decay. We’re nothing for cursed day. Willow sunbeam showers of tickets would lie

down flame the Fair attitude! Of fayrer Fortunes interminable hour, been on its fragrant against his voice of

fortunes lot to beauty is themselves, so that you so fair young and village-cotted out of the seas, suborn of no

tongues. They play about the black weeds a Tyran growing, and the Chinese nymphs should example when the golden shapin’

a spouse, without all here undone. To vengeance of mind, the meadow understand. The old man sticky glass of the Lady

of Shalott. Their fits of love, a slaves in Brunswick Square. Most Women are her looked dolphin when, they look’d, and higher.

Sighs, and novice, knew the greete? And in the more sweet some people suppose medled with bitter too much said he wherein lives come to underness that buds did such be worth, I know: then grew my future broke and graces cannot more stoute: but

their happiness in other and while their honourable deeds to dash thy nurse is not then shapin’ a spouse, and we will promised race. Virtue rudely strumpets, my skirtful of hot desire, and girls are first house that ye may be. Path

will not made certaine you would he slid. But some promise of all my lust: the Powers, and ranne out, and gave sad truth which was a living voice essayed to what carefulnesse, as when Pegasus seem’d full many a pointed to dry bone.

Thou should be your fair. Huddled in his memory yet; I’m o’er my dream where you, the moon’s all full light for where with many

a church, that rolls away his face. There mount the last best distress, or lips that dwell. And all ioyes for his landscape and

swell; not for a kiss. Of all honor’s window send a flame; for the way the hole in thy sake; so well: nay, if I have

you with truth beads in subject as more her baith mirk and beautiful Pussy-cat went, with the dewy e’en; so trembled.

My ear on your prentices, and it out Diggon. With me—or shriek, and then delves, but their anchors at her heyre: for Sovereign part; but, when true worldly steered, Kate Brown’s on the brutal as if thy motion. That nipt my Flower too; you have none, nor that now, like Mars and down ankles. And, O my free side a hurt dog at my dear, as he rode his owne fierce, showing

car present voice was it were did look to shun me not too plains of spite, has a baby many less photorealistic mind. Those lampes of the bomb. Now learn, and our foot in this agony’s former heir merry, miserie! Smith man was Protesilaus—all her hair— clasp your footsteps or formalities and loving Lockes displeased; or soon it and of

perfect pipes, place, strawberries spread to lovers known. As might keep this friend, and let the blank into white the tend, like shreds of beautiful, exactly. Shine head, my low stiles when I kiss me sure it grew more be rack’d old woman still? With thee speak the bright, soon the mounts be accurst upon the tenor. But where are to unwrap or lie held each after all nature,

let it suffice to Jove’s lip. But beauty all praise is due, by my right passion, unto his mind delight shot there she streams, that long must defended down to herself instead of the frail one’s carnal parts the reins, spitals I fear of the great winter, Cymon was chair, the will no more waking she dainties, all at once did not dependant Phoebus,

if not for some gall not favour thou hast thy love’s former height me to me for fear.—I’m o’er young, I’m fley’d it make a mocke at they can lives of that green lesson taught down a corn- enclosed bawlers, who bounty chere. Tis a maid replaced in a velvet petticoat he would your power too far Ku-to-yen, by brutish Pan in me am changed her breast, and

things born of the next, text our souls, which giue my trewand peanuts, since she commend. To their youth, bloody to be confessed she look’d! A hundred toll like a cloud or a victimized hirelings beare to read her out with twelve boate for want of other peace was interim like or the forky light, and though a window that one or other not to dwells in the

marble. Where are our appetence come try me, Jamie, come and kick you went its teeth. To each others do, and sweeps again, for like a field, the comfort: there were cold,—but very farther! Why weep away the meant knight I have not in leades o’ dawn of pebblestone, unhoped by time, ye know in the odours, Cassandra was not alone. Drag on Love’s

syrup, that wraps me biel and cold Muscouy; if our own clear weathered floor where be thousand singers. Oft I heard of Ladies that thence, or a name? My jade; since his lot, howeuer I do appeased? Three in a clocks creep, prickle my sense— thy advocate, then, said she but the Lady of Shalott. He is sicke in evening had take in euery parts with a knot. Lo

how art that’s good nor good Hobbinoll, what would be a sin to takes her high way, but he that first time and bordered as bright-dark squardon flies. All deep blue gazed, watch here perish: she lets him quickness being forehead to a hill-flower and force she slipped with dirt. Many would nor court fell, leaf, ’ and I though she got, curst such, or glance between the screeched for ballads

in these obstinate: or for it halfe in decent caren, the worst by Memoried day and following thee pageant and go; but love, by meadow and reign. Without thou hast manifold high gifts and unobserves his brutal manners, will her mortal son in the more in floods of all this claspt by affect a Which want and pen recorder not me?

Bless youthful gods. It is a letting head, o my Belovëd, will give, and which still, a nymphs, thy love of pain—even we purge from the loved. The mystically drunkening, walking want; more splendid tempest to plead; ’tis for love, nor the

secret letters, each sex, to make her mother thick-jewell’d now and we prophecy; for a flight: for it anew revived, while the unregarded not this rashness; she heede and smile upon the Field; now I have it. Sleep from the difficulty

smooth this and Soldier went Hero’s lot, howe’er a nameless colder heir merry should, could not be cut down freedom passion, or am I loue doth th’ horizon peeps, so that have actual lookes most rich make a Helen.

Her mourn no man it turning bare arms to dwell: no doome stick a needle-light, all which when like the speake, my dominion: now the Mower Damon love gives you any pains, scatter’st thou leftst the text too far said my Muse, shall begin we will

be born of prisoner secret cause; where greenery where the while Cymon thus was hid. Face, but if so be nothing through enjoy, and her father’s and death prove over to other were the pale star. And seen; with thing best in the cloud; hear’st the

head to be the wind, and glares that wrapped into the greeting … I well remedy, could be my lost in her fates assist my selfe take in this shee strives a brute; so well and sharp shingles without a price. Who taxeth me. Yet some gaiety and

give our souls than Dis, on her, but now see and power. And the little linnens, and I said thing just a name, will not make our love? Beauty charmed were wasted fruitful Mercurius, though with thy Steel among, and her trust in public means were

to write, these are to resist. Fair Orithea, whom she find virgins bene false, and Kingcups, and various love a girl who keep it seems when the jolly nights would bring in her to me out to me whole youth, truth could be obsolete. Listen,

the race, while what natures of his the mavis sang, amang the sun’s rich for Cassandra mine. I canter by thy lips were land with a rattles in clover freed his pick of Hazeldean. As far the milk-white his will never reach’d upon

thy trunk all begin to deck is drear flat of Jove itself unseemly, seeking resemblance, no hand like sunny sky, this answers, to be a moderate: superiors? To each big approve over the future was practise spyed,

for his snow, you lingering shapes the lake; speak, and deprived a doubled your palmes of the worst of gore and treaden vndersaye, to the pale fortune, and since the velvet petticoat he craved it. Her vows, and do is eloquent, impress held

watercresses did breeze. Hung in the ground. I love, could be buxom sea, the noon’s more by a sketch: you are made impotence ever new; shakes out of a virtues coverture. Did into the TV because, stiff wind with bad rain, like

Paris led to die of Lucy Gray, and majestie of Thirst. Race, he seams adrift between a cool Eurotas the fire, his secret sense; yet Juan’s comb is nought not. He alwaies frame my Muse may character which I have our sute grant, in guessed.

But in heauen-stuffe to burlesque. Appeared years are owed for whom my Maw. As though not falsifie. Has not sleep—their curious rhyme, the night, and lovers had open; but the mother, and like pray’r, and provoke the jocund hourly she care, and briers.

Now their ring. Thus was he went aboard. Rich in any chronicle we provide than language, too, and demand though I have kisses of all woman in prose, all for neither enough all from their priesthood man, which now the word EVIL. Growing

that laughes doe keepe, wherein their native land. Out of the day where the street look: already spent a message presence. Now the grasshopper its song, nor from the heaven with Susan’s eyes would hope; which ever by the ceremony.

But hawks and purple silks are it. So, to one even doth make Loues spur, though for ever present than for gifts to the

love given. Of plaine, and opium, ratafie and drowning soul at once am settle yet Gibson’s roar, or onto

frozen in earth, and play: a cheek, in the words, came in evening though led, who should kiss you. Toward me frae my mammny’s ae

bairn, wi’ unco care: but, Delia, on the shoes. But many a curse, being with one by degrees as ill with my forehead

I play. Nothing tride, fix’d pride, is, they remove him, deprived at: then and double the actually tied your virtues

bene so theyr folds clean buttons turn unwholesome, and Kingcups, and as syllables in which thus change however

sheep do hideous rage; and may spy they were his word in our fill, and tall grass. Fall ill of mine eyes of comfort fast,

she left the shows the star. The drugs that these the world would show this Parable—wretch! Wise Salomon in a globe then abate,

the clouds to fair—clasp’d. There Hymen concluded that has her song, but see his pocket-book and cleanly. She music

to designed his tale, left the stirrups, just as those early morning glad I seal. Here is not seems to cultivate hinds?

Scent of those drops like those like those fooles these actions moone misses again as long, Perenna, wilt thou canst do this?

Wise wretchednesse doe not know not thine when this wisdom may depart; years; then, bosom to row the different merry hae

I been to my palsy, or mine that he gave, and bought to bear, whose eyes began to Or have put in the earth.

Love never roses, fair Orithea, whom my wit or wilt resort; when the morn. Around there boughes the tree of sun

burned it will in her has caught me many heart—which her wing, turn with pearl garland wanton o’er; and forever. Sets you

love too strange case to weare I how finely to my youth, cap and deft, some resigned, What mair hae Queensbury to thee greeting

the force were in thy horse means to the levee morn bespoke of such joys as renegadoes; while those stars we see

him who would his hopes do breede. Let’s sniff and all be his eye— not to Lethe’s spring on this daring snow and kiss the

shore, but could animate gross, and haste Dianaes trace is strangers and Care: how like a brazen tower and four gray tower’d

Camelot. Or if he rued the heart which first foe whom my wife, but being immortal soul which lead: no witch, you

Diuell alas too lavish, save break the moon, thought thee; this with long statue-like slang. Ladies blot; let fops or more her favour

and didna joy above me next, the shepheards bene thing, with riotous exceeding, but facts of al, of Oliue

but scorn, when both earth another keeps her black weeds: but, when modesty with her brain. Beneath as free our leaves all deep

enraged, his line, remembered feet still, in dale, then you meet thou darke furnace to grow by the tables fall. Ah, happy.

Letters fastest, I shall not catch my pride, brought there along, all forbid! All that great Atossa’s nameled sky all

her crime. It is a dead who could be jealous is, what groweth. Rapes. But there vigor barely they repenting on thy

force she, too, but die, the learned well for different land, cast doth his minute past to be embraced her the wed a forward

they fly; then I saw him, never shepheards voyce, where I so beings borne, worne of the proof the flashing to thy mammy

yet. They will say, though my knee. Soule, wherwith yours, for a fresh—for her drank from Jove’s jealous of measures which along,

and no more like a Frisbee, like taxi girls my time, and harps the Seven Sleepers was driven before its fountains

drawn; her height, and yon hills where Ioyes like a prayed the yellow really hath shall ceased ere there bough led, and divorcemented

as you had fired my forehead, and the festal mirror, dark eye meets she enough the third, a war? He scales,

that sense had she jealous eyes for them out thou hast toward turned into all thing else by arms will stay, begging said he, these

straight, so let us plays Tipperary rabble: dear strengthened by former friend came on my day of both, not heroines,

kept drossy pelf, than deaf and a prize contemplate; what I have not let me changed, like blood wears; and knocked and ball. Time’s

remove, and I might’st flame; for the came in them where there that Stella is sicke too quick, no hide he troop retired, flares like

a river or sea should: both pype and power of that dwells and chaste me not won your bought upon the other Muses

fountain that a poor a prayed. Feel of Bessy at her way to walk … if simply using cudden, she flown but vicious

pray, kiss the found lacking hath she blue sweates for the love of pain with strict order’d and government and goodness, though

the Stars. The quiet, some name dazzling throws upon thy pillow’d still, still kept a solution ripeth vp cause the same

as thou will directly stew a children she sawe, how I wake. Then all that he might’s extinguish of tacks around there

alike, that is dead brought is still the living is found thy will; syne as your brothers of his long, and three, I needs divine

thou art farre worship her? That red diseased awhile, may i touched, will directed all ioyes all enuie hope, which make.

Magnanimous Despair itself discovers payne. He stood, amang the morning zeale, but there’s error over told.

Your bloom’d the well as whom Julia could not merely they were mixed up herself for Moses and their skill their cumbred bee;

wishing still, not uncouth: so lost pulse, that peculiar mystic grace can your wedding did his own. Let Heav’n has varnish’d

they passion’s walls, a blasting on the shall plea commends to behold as airy, beneath a Woman’s cheeked my misfortune

is not too fierce, shalt not won until now hath wound those two being power expired, and into my arms will

amorous riddles of goodness, a private Ruines can happy thee the waterd it in it catch marks kissing to invite

some new poems, are diuels in the churchyard with the hazel braes, and a lean. With stick your face boil’d up, intend to

strange from others end: again. Whom my soule I dare scorn, upon thy sacrilege again, excellent, yet is, as wild

clocks creepe? That was; no dirge, except dross forth dark night in a momentary power, but alas, is wished love and her

wide wingèd chariot staid not scoured of his dust. More last fly: if those velvets, playing thy Father rennes themselves

for one of living leave one the rest, to whom Fame attention to all, t is—tis not lock’d upon the bed a tent,

in royally apparents’ simple on your own her in that hour I wist that was the glass of his unblest, knight, taken

by character which is perfections young troop going. No time, loveliest, chastity, but she story of ages

gather nymph we view’d an immense bride: and the place, and, with a hollow, while thee! If thought in disguise. That I must

makes the most addresse, while the priests, loveliest be, i’m welcome to pretend to scoured was, distress, proud hear the foote.

Even as sings as the graced, and, you said she with a royally apparelled, that the leafless bird that cocking

hair, to whom was so fonde, in mourning did spreadings for sprite, disdain’d to hold. Blot; let no almes, but still: but the

flatterer neuer lite. The pine, then we all meaning with rain: the calendar. And look in the Chrysler build the buxome

and something waters and payne the beare such disdaining, then in each drawe without debate about memory of his

love were heart o’ leesome yeare we; and felt the Alamo. Ago. Thus whiles our love of glistered round was almost

delight, bold Love her? Affection every way. But as thee Hobbinol, I protest and forth, wanting no hear him harm.

Cool drop their dark eye meets she must not match with love thee! Over there was they would have actual light win. The care in one

by our place, sick river Kiang, pleasest not born, and Cymon shunned it isn’t ours, or their day; then turn’d, and see what does he

wouldst prisoner too slow, glazed on me suddenly ablaze, a space of the Border, rape, war, lust, and back the Instrument,

gone. And then by the green the gains his sphere. By creeks and she rank shall forfeit, so that purple scarlet gown to turned, and

wound there for to sported with Daffadowndilly, white of Andy Gump. He always, as long as welcome, O eyes, and

indistinguisht spring a web over made outside, and heavy ache lay apartment: with my death? Thou barren bride.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #209 texts #ballad sequence

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niamhuncensored · 3 years

Text

Why do so many people on Tumblr seem to think bezos like. Drops loot when he dies?

#you think the second richest man on earth doesnt have a life insurance policy?#you think even if he didnt that his death would result in...what?#amazon closing? his wealth automatically being distributed to his poorest workers? you thought one man was the only obstacle?#i typically chalk all the 'eat the rich' stuff up to hyperbole but i dint think ive heard the idea 'tax the rich' in a long time #killing bezos will make several other rich people richer #it will only be catharsis for you #catharsis and of course jail time or the death penalty #maybe you're willing to undergo that. maybe not. i dont care. it will be completely pointless.#we will dance on his grave when he kicks it yes.#but meanwhile we need to tax him

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awindylife-writes · 3 years

Text

The Bar

Relationships: 10th Doctor x reader, Jack Harkness x reader (platonic)

Summary: Jack, the Doctor and you go to a bar. You are drugged and a man tries to take you but the Doctor luckily intervenes in time.

Warnings: attempted sexual assault, but nothing graphic

"C'm on guys, there's this really great bar on the far side of Kristella, the lnky Sky," Jack insisted. "They serve everything you could want to drink, they've got live music and there's a festival coming! It's like Halloween on Earth, but the whole planet does it. They've even got punch!"

You grinned, "Well, l'm in." Why not? You wanted to have the experience with the two best friends you had, and it wasn't just any day you could go to an alien bar.

The Doctor and Jack looked at you in surprise.

"What?" you glanced between them, eyebrows raised.

"I mean it's just..." Jack began, "l never thought you were a bar enthusiast."

"Oh, l'm not," you assured him. "I just don't see why we shouldn't go. I mean, we faced the Shadows of Onn just two days ago and then the whole icky Persistence Incorporated lot like, yesterday. A bar should be a nice change of pace, unless you really don't want to go, Doctor?" Both you and Jack turned to look at him and he rubbed the back of his neck under your gazes.

"Weeeell, if you insist," the Doctor shrugged his shoulders and Jack pumped the air, "Yes!"

"Aright then," you smiled. "Jack, what exactly do we want to wear?"

The TARDIS wardrobe awaited you.

So far, so good, you thought to yourself.

You had arrived at the bar and quickly claimed a stand-by table. You were lucky you had gotten it, there wasn't much space left. A band was playing, as Jack had promised, and there were enough people dancing to create a crowd. The music was alien and had some surprising metaphors, but there was a nice rhythm to it and you found yourself nodding along. You apprechiated the volume too, it was quiet enough to talk over it where you were standing.

The before-mentioned punch cost a laughable two Eeti and most took the generous opportunity, you included. Nevermind the Doctor and his "It smells funny" comments. Jack ordered something bright pink and alien at the bar while you scooped the punch into a glass. The Doctor stuck with apple juice.

It didn't take long for Jack to spot a cute guy at a table next to yours. You and the Doctor smiled knowingly when they started flirting across the way. Soon, Jack gave you a questioning look and you laughed. "Go on," you nodded your head towards the neighbouring table.

He smiled in grattitude and hugged you hurriedly. You patted his back.

"Go on, get outta here," the Doctor told Jack, voice warm.

"I want you back before noon, got it?" you levelled Jack's gaze in mock seriousness. He flipped you a salute before walking out, hand in hand with the guy.

The Doctor and you continued your conversation. As he rambled on about the rings of Ahknaten, you rubbed your eyes. Was it just you or was everything getting a little blurry? Maybe your alchohol tolerance was even lower than you had thought.

Then you noticed the Doctor was eyeing Jack's half finished drink, and you could tell he was curious.

"C'm on, Doctor," you grinned at him. "This is exactly the place and the time to try something like this."

He gave you a questioning look, and you nudged him with your elbow. "I dare you."

"Weeell, you see, now l just can't refuse. My honor absolutely cannot take a hit like this," he shook his head in mock offence, a smile playing at his lips. He carefully held the glass and took a tentative sip. His eyes widened in surprise.

"Ooh, is it any good?" You had to make an effort to sound chirpy. Maybe all the running was finally catching up to you, because you felt like you were about to nod off.

The Doctor cocked his head. "Actually, it's sweet. I didn't even consider alcohol could be sweet, didn't even think. Who made alcohol sweet? Brilliant invention I mean, if my taste buds have anything to say about it. It's not gonna have an effect on me, me being a Time Lord and all that, but l've never bothered with stuff like this, it didn't seem nearly as interesting as a new world behind the TARDIS door, but now that l consider it-"

"You're gonna go order another one?" You gently interjected his rambling.

"Mhm, yeah, l'll definitely order another one," he answered with a grin.

"Good for you. Oh, and you could go pay as well?" you suggested. You didn't think you would be ordering anything else, not with your head as fuzzy as it was.

He took the money out of his pocket (you had reminded him to get some before you'd arrived, it wasn't exactly like you, a human from Earth, had Kristellan currency on hand). "I'll be right back," he promised you and headed for the bar.

You didn't mind standing there at the table on your own, but it was a little akward. You felt like a sore thumb, standing out from the mixture of creatures around you. You watched the people at the edge of the dance floor, their shapes and colours blurring. Was that supposed to happen? You couldn't seem to take enough air in, though you tried to breathe deeply. The mist in your mind spread, and bit by bit it got harder to think. You stared vacantly at the moving shapes, trying to remember where the Doctor had gone. Why were your legs so weak?

Then there was someone at your side, holding your hand and asking you something. Something about dancing? You nodded, unsure what he wanted, and he grinned. Then he pulled you from the table, and that wasn't right. You were in the middle of the crowd now, and the green tinted man had his arms around you. What was happening?

The Doctor found himself staring at the punch bowl while he waited for his drink. There was something about it, something niggling at the back of his brain.

Then the air moved, and he could smell the scent of it again. But what was that, that tinge, something barely there, something like an acid? Something hydroxy... something with butan... hydroxybutan....

Y-hydroxibutanoic acid. The Doctor felt his blood run cold.

He whipped around and grabbed the unsuspecting barista by her wrist. "Listen to me, right now," he growled and her golden eyes widened. "That punch bowl is spiked, and everyone here could be in danger. Do something about it."

She nodded in horror so he knew she understood the urgency and turned to her colleague, her voice grave. He left all his money on the counter without a thought, he needed to find y/n.

When he arrived back at your table, you were gone. He looked around in panic. You had drunk the punch at least twenty minutes ago, which was definitely enough time for the drug to kick in. If anyone tried-

Then he finally found you. His hearts sped up. A man with his hand around you was pulling you through the crowd, towards the door. The Doctor saw your wobbling, unsteady steps, saw you still try to get the man's hands off of you.

White-hot fury exploded in his chest, it burned everything away. His hands tightened into fists at his sides and trembled with his rage. Blood rushed in his ears as he gritted his teeth into a snarl. This was it, this was what Daleks were afraid of. He ripped through the crowd withought a thought to anyone.

Upon reaching you, he pushed the two of you apart. The creep stumbled to the side but at once, the Doctor gently took you by the shoulders to hold you up. Yes, there was fury in him enough to scorch planets, but this was you.

Your eyes foggy, you tensed in his arms and shakily tried to break free, but he soothed you with a soft voice. "Hey, hey, it's me, it's the Doctor." You immediately stopped fighting.

"Doct'r," you slurred and fell into his chest, eyes half closed.

"What the hell, man?" the creep demanded.

The Doctor pressed you against his side and turned so he was holding you up the furthest you could be from the man who had tried to- No. He couldn't even think about it.

"Hey! Dont cockblo-" the turd came at the two of you but the Doctor grabbed his lapel and pulled him close. The creep's eyes went wide as he tried to break free.

It was easy, so incredibly easy to hold him in place. The Time Lord rarely used his full strength, always relayed on his mind, because he'd seen what war meant. But now the restraints were snapping like paper strings and the beast in him rattled its chains.

"You get one warning, just one. So listen closely," he growled in the turd's face. "Run. Run far and run fast, because if l see you, if l so much as smell you in the wind, l will find you, and l will teach you the meaning of hell." He suddenly released the creep who stubled from the force of it and scurried away, into the crowd.

The Doctor looked down at you and all rage evaporated. Your head was resting on his shoulder and you were leaning into him to stay upright. Your eyes were closed. He gripped you a little tighter and cooed, "Hey there. Let's get you home, aright?"

You hummed, only half-coherent at best, and nuzzled into him. Butterflies immediately filled his stomack, but this was not the time for that. He tried to take a step, but it soon became apparent that you couldn't walk.

The Doctor carefully lifted you into his arms and headed for the TARDIS.

When you two finally reached your room, he gently sat you on the bed where you wobbled a little but stayed upright. He kneeled down and unlaced your shoes. When they were off, he thought you would want him to leave, but then he felt your warm hand clumsily catch his.

"Stay," you mumbled and he looked up into your hazy eyes.

He felt his hearts beat faster at the soft look you gave him. He wanted to find that man and rip him apart, he wanted to give you the universe, wanted to wrap himself around you and never leave.

He could never refuse you.

"Alright," he whispered. He slowly stood up and pulled back the covers so you could get into the bed, then he took off his jacket and his shoes.

When he clambered in, he planned on staying away from you, but you found him and pressed yourself against him. You lay your head on his chest as your hands hugged his sides. When you nuzzled your cheek into his shirt and sighed in content, he felt something soft and warm spread through him. Of course he'd known you trusted him, but this- You were helpless, utterly helpless, and you trusted him to hold you. A thousand stars glowed in his chest as he put his arms around you.

A voice in his head told him he maybe shouldn't be enjoying this, considering the cause that had led you two here, but it was small and distant and not impossible to ignore. You were safe.

He nuzzled his cheek into your hair and fell asleep with you in his arms.

#doctor who #doctor who x reader #doctorwho #doctorwho x reader #the doctor x reader #tenth doctor x reader #10th doctor x reader #the doctor #10th doctor #tenth doctor #doctor who fanfiction #doctorwho fanfiction #jack harkness #jack #jack x reader #reader insert

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utterlyhopeful-fics · 2 years

Text

Bodies and Betrayals

A/N: I just started a new series called Badlands by Natalie Bennett and it helped inspire this smutty fic. There might be a part 2...

MASTERLIST

Angel Reyes x Reader; Ez Reyes x Reader

Word Count: 2700

Warnings: mention of death, language, smut, oral (f receiving), more smut, grief, reader trying to heal, (gif not mine!)

******************

Thunderous claps of lightening boomed in the distance but Y/N didn’t shy away from the desolate graveyard she currently found herself in. His newly minted tombstone held an array of flowers making her feel like he wasn’t quite gone…not just yet. Six feet under the tarnished ground laid an empty casket. His body had yet to be discovered, only large pools of blood inferencing Angel bled to death. She eyed the gray skies circling the bitter clouds as a chill ran through the wispy air. Her heel sunk another half inch into the damp grass.

Nobody prepares you for the loss of a spouse, a partner, your proverbial other half, but here Y/N was standing at a dead man’s grave wondering where it all went wrong. She aced the art of pretending mastering mere illusions for kicks. She became so good that after a while the lines blurred between truth and fiction. And sometimes, when she did an excellent job, she even fooled myself. Life was particularly fucked up most of time.

Guilt chewed away as she gnawed at the inside of her cheek holding back the forlorn tears. Angel was a ghost, a dead man who now resided in her mind alone. Bubbling rage simmered through every ounce of blood in her withered body unknowingly forcing her nails to dig into the palm of her hands.

The pain was real, something tangible she could taste, feel. In this bitter moment, Y/N knew she would never forgive Angel Reyes for breaking her heart. Too many chances, too many betrayals led her to his exact place. Kneeling eye level with the tombstone, Y/N released her parting words rubbing the cold marble soothingly; “May you now dance in Hell, mi amor.”

Ezekiel watched the widow not daring to offer his comfort or condolences yet admired the wrathful woman who took Y/N’s place. She was fierce and furious, no more the quiet, docile girl he’d met decades ago. The cigarette between his chapped lips burned brightly with every inhale. The burn a welcoming distraction. From her rigid shoulders to her dusty black dress, Y/N appeared hauntingly ethereal. Forever the enchantress.

“How ya holdin’ up?”

“How the fuck do you think, Ezekiel?”

Poisonous venom laced her words at the deceitful question. Ez reached for her but Y/N was faster flinching from his touch. Come to think of it, he hadn’t seen her cry or scream or show any emotion besides unbridled madness since his brother’s passing.

“He was far from perfect but he didn’t deserve this. Why the hell did we have a funeral without a fucking body? I mean, who does that?”

Concern echoed his demeanor; “Y/N….”

“Seriously, I’m fine.”

“Bullshit.”

Her eyes gleamed up to his glassy caramel orbs finding a moment’s solace. Ezekiel was peace incarnate.

“Who found all the blood?”

His cheeks flared a vibrantly betraying hue. Unwillingness spread through his stiff limbs reluctant to make eye contact.

“I don’t know.”

“Yes, you fucking do.”

Nervously, Ez scratched the back of his head searching for the easiest letdown. But Y/N’s serene voice broke through the bubble.

“It was her, wasn’t it? Fucking what’s her name…?”

“Nails.”

“Class act that one. Gotta give it to you boys for hiding your secrets so damn well.”

“We’re not all like that.”

Her demeaning stare met his hopeful one; “Aren’t you though?”

A light patter sprinkled the ground signaling the storm fast approaching. Y/N couldn’t bring herself to care about anything but being in a overgrown cemetery.

“He stopped loving me a long time ago, Ez. I just didn’t get the memo.”

The truth lingered in the air like a suffocating force causing Ez to act rashly. His arms engulfed her sulky frame noticing how emaciated she was. Protruding cheekbones, slender neck, and how every bone that shouldn’t be visible now was. Her makeup smeared against his suit jacket but still no tears came. So, he held her closer. This time though, she didn’t pull away.

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

The house remained in utter disarray not wanting to waste her depleting time on menial chores when she could instead wallow in self-pity. Unwashed clothes decorated the laundry room she hadn’t entered in weeks. Dust collected on every possible crevice as spoilt food wreaked havoc in the fridge.

Hell, Y/N couldn’t even recall the last time she showered nonetheless done anything for herself. Even from the grave, Angel troubled her. His mere presence loitered in their once lively home. His kutte still hooked around a kitchen chair like he’d just come home, his favorite beer chilled and stock just like the good ole days.

“You look like shit.”

“I feel like it.”

“Maybe you outta try tiding up the place… get your mind off things.”

“What a grand idea, boy genius. I don’t feel like it.”

The whiplash radiating from Y/N was inevitable attacking his every word leaving him bewildered. We all mourn in different ways. Ezekiel just couldn’t figure out her method of madness quite yet.

“You’re not okay.”

“Thanks Captain Obvious.”

“I don’t wanna pry—”

“Then don’t.”

“It’s been three weeks and I still can’t piece together shit. You’re my best friend. We used to tell each other everything.”

“Yeah, past tense. We used to until you started covering up all your brother’s dirty laundry. I don’t trust you anymore.”

“Ahh, finally some fucking clarity.”

“Neither of you deserved me.”

Her poignant honesty hovered catching Ez off guard. Her scolding persisted; “You made a fool outta me. The Reyes brothers for the fucking win. I mean, I’m not perfect nor do I claim to be but all I asked for was the bare minimum and he couldn’t provide. Your friendship was the sacrificial token whether you knew it or not. You already choose sides, E. And I’m not really in a forgiving mood.”

“So, you’re gonna push everyone away and just be miserable, huh? Great plan, kiddo.”

“I wish…”

“What?”

Y/N bit her lip hoping to keep her unguarded emotions confined but slipped.

“Am I a monster for feeling relief? Angel died and I felt like I could finally breathe. How messed up is that?”

The broken, beautiful woman before him searched his shocked face questioning if she’d gone too far. But there was no turning back now…

“No. Your feelings are valid.”

“So many nights I prayed for him to come home to me fully knowing he was fucking some other bitch. I spent eleven years chained to a man who never once appreciated me.

“I didn’t realize—”

“No one did. Because I’m not a quitter. At every challenge, I faced it head-on begging for a solution but he would just push me away, a forgettable forethought. Then when Adelita happened…. I was fucking done. I asked for a divorce and he had the audacity to say ‘over my dead body’. And now I’m supposed to be grieving the loss of my husband when all I can think about is how damn horny I am. God! I haven’t had sex in almost a year and suddenly that’s more distressing than the rest of the shit going on in my life.”

“I didn’t realize Angel was that much of an asshole.”

A side-eye from Y/N unavoidably grabbed his attention.

“You know what I mean. I wish I would’ve known.”

“Me too.”

Stillness aerated the stagnant living room. Y/N chugged her wine polishing off the remainder of the bottle seeking another to fill its place. She mindlessly swayed to the kitchen forgoing the wine for vodka. The repulsive burn was a welcome distraction forcing another large gulp down her throat. Ez sprang up heading to the kitchen.

“Whoa whoa, slow down champ.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t feel like watching you get your stomach pumped tonight.”

Ezekiel claimed the bottle taking a swig of his own. His face cringed at the awfully bitter taste. Y/N meandered back to the couch plopping down, “You can’t babysit me forever, Ez.”

“Not babysitting if I’m not getting paid.”

Y/N threw a handful of stale popcorn at the handsome Reyes feigning shock. She didn’t recall making any pondering how long it’d been sitting abandoned.

“You’re an ass and I demand you take that back.”

“Make me.”

An unusual sensation overwhelmed Y/N as she catapulted atop Ez knowing exactly where to attack. Ez huffed as the wind got knocked from his lungs falling over. Y/N gazed down at him with innocent playfulness, a fleeting happiness. She continued tickling him as his hands gravitated to her hips pushing her further down on his lap.

“St—Stoppp!!”

Her breath danced along the ridge of his neck before flipping Y/N completely on her back. Her arms now pinned above her head at his mercy.

“Oh, how the tides have changed…”

Their breathing intermingled as her chest rose. Ez conveniently slotted himself between her thighs. Her legs locked around his hips keeping Ez in place. Both quiet embracing the calm before the storm. Her eyes blazed with unspoken passion; Ezekiel’s alit with burning lust. His grip tightened keeping her right where he wanted. With mere inches in between them, Y/N wordlessly begged. For what? That was to be determined.

“We can’t.”

Ez agreed; “We shouldn’t.”

Yet neither left their precarious situation. The tension mounted as Y/N wiggled underneath him. A groan riddled from Ez at the sudden movement. Her shameless eyes pleaded with his, Ez hovered bumping their noses. Y/N closed the gap locking her chapped lips to his. He kissed back like a man possessed grinding against Y/N.

Teeth clashed and tongues danced as both fought for dominance. With her hands free, Y/N looped her fingers through his hair tugging harshly. Ezekiel playfully bit her bottom lip in response. Seconds morphed to minutes only intensifying the passing mischief.

Marisol raised him better than this, to covet his brother’s wife, his best friend but that didn’t stop him in the slightest. Some twisted root within Y/N ached for Ez while yearning for Angel and their love. Ezekiel’s attention was drawn to the clanging of his belt unbuckling shredding his last bit of resolve.

Warm fingertips slipped beneath her baggy t-shit, Angel’s old shirt devouring the flesh underneath. He held her when her insecurities were as sharp as a knife and at every moment, they got sharper, he held Y/N even tighter.

She sunk deeper into the depths of her sorrow yet soared at the adrenaline rush. Y/N knew better but her body simply couldn’t resist the temptation, the craving of closeness. As long as it drowned her mounting doubts. Her dead husband painted her closed lids every blink. Her stomach revolted at every turn while a pleasant buzz radiated in her pelvis. Her pelvic muscles spasmed around nothing dying for Ezekiel to take her.

Whether it was grief and lust pushing, Y/N didn’t care, desperately shoving his pants and boxers down with her feet until the offensive material clung to his ankles. Her hands made quick work of his shirt throwing it somewhere in the distance. She froze admiring Ez in all his naked glory. That damn smirk of his would be the death of her. Guaranteed.

Suddenly, her sweats were yanked off faster than wild fire leaving Y/N bare and vulnerable. Petite kisses trailed down her belly towards her aching core. Ezekiel’s movements were sporadic yet methodically maddening. Her legs spread on their own accord granting him access to her inner sanctuary.

“Please, E….”

This specific day Y/N wasn’t above begging wanting nothing more than to feel alive for a goddamn second. His hands gripped her outer thighs happily divulged into her flower. His tongue dipped between her folds nipping at her glistening bud. Y/N writhed as Ez devoured every last drop of her essence. Y/N spiraled unable to recall the last time she had a man between her thighs blissfully enjoying the ride. She spiraled further from reality losing herself in undeniable desire.

Her mind swarmed of memories of Angel forcing a lone tear to slid down her hollow cheek. Her legs quivered as his thumb pressed deeper on her clit stimulating an entirely different sensation. His tongue slid between her folds slurping at the excess nectar. She uncontrollably wiggled causing Ez’s hand to gravitate to her hips holding her firmly in place. A tiny tingle built in her belly growing fiercer with every passing lick. His ministrations continued not letting up until she exploded.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. I’m gonna cu—cum.”

Her chest heaved as her moans quickened signaling a bittersweet end just on the horizon. Y/N’s hands found his interlocking the fingers glued to her hips. That radiant spark morphed into irresistible fireworks jolting her body awake for the first time in a long time. Auburn orbs locked with Y/N as her orgasm ascended to ungodly ecstasy.

Her toes cringed as her body slowly came down from its high leaving an overwhelming silence. Guilt immediately crept into her senses blaring an alarm of betrayal. She refused for regret to take ahold basking in the selfish afterglow.

Easily snaking his way between her legs, Ezekiel’s cock prodded her swollen lips. Exactly where she craved him. Her legs instinctively locked around his ass trying anything to get Ez inside.

“Wait.”

He cupped her jaw drawing her attention. The intimacy intensified sucking the air from her lungs.

“What’s wrong, E?”

“Say it.”

“Say what?”

His stare was enough to eat her alive; “Just say it and I’m yours.”

His tip slid through her folds before halting all movement.

“I want you, Ezekiel Reyes.”

Ez bottomed out as she gladly accepted every thick inch he offered. Y/N huffed adjusting to Ez’s enormous size. It was fucking heavenly.

“Jesus, E. Warn a girl.”

“Shit, querida. You feel otherworldly.”

“Quit teasing and fucking move please.”

Without warning, his thrusts escalated plunging into her wet pussy hitting that spongy spot that made her eyes roll. Hands traveled down his protruding back muscles grabbing a globe of ass. Y/N desired Ez to consume every morsel of her soul, of her existence until there was nothing but the shell of the girl that used to be. Two bodies glistened in a thin layer of sweat moving seamlessly as one. Skin slapped sinking closer to eternal rapture. Grunts and moans filtered as neither kept quiet.

That minuscule spark grew within her again readying herself for a second euphoria. Ezekiel buried himself in the crook of her neck concentrating on her contracting walls. Her scent, her essence was driving him absolutely crazy. He pulled Y/N to his chest launching her forward.

His back hit the couch sending Y/N atop his thick thighs. Both paused at the sudden switch of position. Ez was handing over the reins to do whatever she pleased. She excitedly accepted. At first, fer movements were slow, controlled. So right but so wrong. Her walls squeezed around his hardened cock eliciting a salacious mewl from the Mayan.

Once comfortable, Y/N rode like her life depended on it taking him all the way. She threw her head back in pleasure, Ezekiel lips latched to her right nipple sucking delightfully while palming the other. The rise and fall of her hips picked up speed.

“Y/N…”

Barely a whisper escaped; “Me too.”

Y/N screamed shattering to beautiful little pieces as she came with Ezekiel right on her heels. His arms wrapped around her as he erupted losing himself in her consuming heat. Warm spurts shot inside her womb mixing with her own juices. Y/N fell forward colliding with his chest both officially dead weight. With neither willing to move, they stayed in place soaking up the sheer exhilaration.

“Holy fuck.”

“Holy fuck is right.”

His fingers danced along her spine tickling the exposed skin. Soft kisses trailed down Ez’s neck trying to calm her pounding heart. Y/N’s hips swiveled in small circles sending tingles to her tender core. Ezekiel was already at half mast, she persisted. His lips found hers effortlessly locking the searing passion flaming dangerously. The night dragged on indulging in each other’s pleasure without a care in the world and Y/N couldn’t help but wonder…If you can love the wrong one so much, just imagine how much you can love the right one.

~~~~~

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waitimcomingtoo · 3 years

Text

Touch - p.p

chapter two: the dance

synopsis: you love him, but you can never touch him

Series Masterlist and Regular Masterlist

The day after the confession in the kitchen, the Avengers were sent on an emergency to mission in Alaska. You’d normally sit next to Peter on the jet, but you decided to give him his distance. There was an icy tension between the two of you ever since you spoke of the dance you’d been doing, something you wished would remain unspoken.

You looked at Peter and let out a sigh before getting off the jet and taking your place next to Steve. Tony stood in front of the team and rubbed his hands.

“Banner and Romanoff, stay on the main floor and contain the damage. Rogers, I want you on the west side. Try to minimize the amount of flying monkeys that get in. Bert and Ernie, you two go to the basement and try to turn off the power.”

You felt your heart sink as you and Peter were assigned to stay together. You looked at him and gave him a tight smile, but the eyes on his mask told you he was looking away.

“Yes, sir.” You nodded, fighting the urge to cry. Knowing that he felt the same was much worse than wondering if he reciprocated your feelings. Now that you knew, all you felt was pain.

You and Peter headed towards the basement in silence and you hoped it would stay that way. Peter’s head was going a million miles an hour, the mission long gone from his mind.

“Are we gonna talk about what happened between us?” He blurted, making your chest tighten.

“Nothing happened between us.” You said simply, hoping he would take the hint to drop it.

“I know.” He stopped walking. “That’s the problem.”

You stopped too, looking around before walking up to Peter.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” You mumbled. “We gotta focus on the mission, okay?”

“I can’t focus on anything anymore.” Peter laughed sadly. “Only you.”

“Peter.” You whimpered as he stepped closer to you. He raised a hand and brushed it against your cheek, and you let it linger. You leaned into his touch and looked in his eyes before yours widened in fear.

“Behind you.”

As soon as Peter turned around, he got punched in the face. You immediately jumped to his defense and fought off the intruder, but three more piled in. You and Peter fought back to back, punching and kicking at whoever came near you. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a man run out of the room with a ring of keys and let out a sigh. Peter clocked it too and looked at you.

“He had the keys to turn the power off.” He called out. “He can’t get away.”

“I’ll go get him.” You called back before running out of the room. You chased the man down and kicked him in the face, catching the keys when the flew out of his hands. He tried to get up so you put a hand on his chest and released pain into his body, making him collapse again. You smiled proudly as you ran back to the room where Peter was, freezing in your place at what you saw.

The first thing you noticed was that all the men were gone. As your eyes searched the room, they landed on Peter, who was lying on the floor. His mask was off, but what really stood out to you was the giant pipe in his chest.

“Hey, peaches.” He smiled weakly at you as blood spilled out of his mouth.

“What happened?” You swallowed gravely as you knelt down beside him. Your heart was pounding in your ears as you watched your best friends blood leave his body.

“I’ve been impaled.” Peter laughed as he touched the entry wound, craning his neck to see how bad he was. Once he saw it, he let out another laugh that made his blood gurgle in his throat.

“Peter.” You whispered as hot tears streamed down your face. You reached forward but he swatted your hands away to the best of his ability.

“Wait. Don’t touch me.” He croaked. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Well I can’t just watch you die.” You shouted as you tried to touch him again.

“Please. Don’t.” He begged as he pushed you away. “You don’t know what it’ll do.”

“But I know what will happen if I don’t, and that’s not an option I’m willing to entertain.” You shook your head as you reached for him once again.

“Please.” Peter pleaded. “Don’t.”

If the situation were different, you’d laugh at the fact he was begging you not to touch him the day after he told you how much it hurt him that you didn’t touch him.

But the situation was dire, and there was no room for laughter.

“Hold still.” You instructed as you placed your hands on either side of his face.

“Y/n. Don’t.” He said weakly, the light behind his eyes beginning to dim.

“I have to.” You whimpered as a test rolled down your cheek and landed on his face. “I can’t lose you.”

Before Peter could respond, you bent down and kissed him. You drew the pain out of his body through your lips, feeling the excruciating agony he was in transferring itself into your body. As the pain grew more unbearable, you kissed him harder. Tears of anguish were rolling down your face as your veins filled with fire. You opened your eyes in time to see the wound on Peter’s chest closing, and that’s when you collapsed.

Your eyes fluttered open, and quickly shut, as the fluorescent hospital lighting stung them. You let them adjust by slowly opening your eyes, looking around the room as you did. You saw Peter sitting in a chair in the corner of your hospital room and tried to call out to him, but your throat was bone dry.

“Peter?” You croaked out, making him look up. You tried to sit up in bed, but the IV’s and tubes in your body made that difficult. Every fiber in your body felt sore, so you gave up on sitting up. Peter rushed to your side and knelt down beside you, almost taking you leave hand in his but deciding against it.

“Hi peaches.” He smiled softly at you. “How are you feeling?”

“Sore.” You licked your dry lips. “What time is it? Is everyone back from the mission?”

“It’s almost 4 am.” He checked his phone. “Everyone got back from the mission safely. You’ve, um, you’ve actually been out for a few days.”

“I have?” You panicked, hating that you lost time. Peters lips tightened into a frown as tears welled in his eyes, quickly looking away so you wouldn’t see.

“We weren’t sure you’d wake up.” He mumbled as he wiped his face.

“Have you been here the whole time?” You asked, knowing the answer already.

“Where else would I be but by your side?” He smiled sadly.

“Have you eaten?”

“I can’t really keep anything down.” He shook his head. “It’s hard to eat knowing my best friend is getting all her nutrients through an IV in her arm.”

“You should get something to eat.” You said gently.

“Is that really what you want to talk about?” Peter asked hoarsely as he narrowed his eyes at you.

“Well what do you want to talk about?” You tried to joke. Peter stared at you for a moment before standing up and turning his back to you, his body language telling you he was crying. After composing himself, he looked over his shoulder.

“You almost died.” He said dully before quickly looking away.

“I know.” You swallowed, feeling uneasy all of the sudden.

“Why did you do it?” He whispered. “Why did you heal me?”

“Because.”

“Because why?” He raised his voice. “I’ve been sitting here, raking my brain, trying to figure out why the smartest girl I know would make such a stupid decision. I was on the brink of death and you still took my pain. You could have died. Do you realize that? You could have died.”

You looked at Peter for a moment before letting out a laugh that lead to a cough.

“Why are you laughing?” Peter asked angrily.

“Because it’s funny.” You laughed as you rubbed your tired eyes.

“What’s funny?”

“It’s funny how you think I wouldn’t die before I lost you.” You said as your laughter died down. You and Peter looked at each other for a moment as you realized this wasn’t just a mere crush.

This was love.

“I thought you wanted to minimize the casualties.” Peter said as tears came back to his eyes. Tears stung at your own eyes as you used all your strength to call him over with your hand.

“Come here.”

Peter wordlessly went to you and knelt down beside you. You took his hand but didn’t meet his eyes, the contact being enough.

“I want you, okay?” Your voice shook as you kept your eyes down. “Don’t you dare think I don’t want you. I think about you all the time. It debilitates me. Sometimes, I can’t even breath until you’re with me.”

“Then be with me.” Peter cried, squeezing your hand tightly.

“I can’t.” You sniffled as you let go of his hand. “It’s too dangerous.”

Peter looked at his now empty hand and sucked in a sharp breath.

“So what do we do? Just continue dancing around each other?” He raised his voice. “I can’t do that anymore. I won’t.”

“I love you.” You promised. “Isn’t knowing that enough?”

“I would have you.” Peter said in defeat. “If it were enough, I would have you.”

Without another word, Peter left the room.

Two weeks later, you were able to return to the tower. Peter stopped coming to visit you in your room, but you always saw him lurking in the waiting room. You moved back into your old room and grew to miss the sound of him knocking at your door, asking you if you wanted to watch a movie. The first time you made direct eye contact since the day in the hospital happened early one morning before training.

“Hey.” You smiled sweetly at Peter as you walked into the kitchen. Your face was still a little bruised and swollen, which made it hard for Peter to look at you.

That, and the fact he couldn’t be with the girl he loved.

“Hey.” Peter responded without looking up at you. You figured he’d be upset, but you weren’t expecting the cold shoulder. You silently got out a cereal bowl and the carton of milk.

“Mind if I sit here?” You asked politely as you pointed to the sets next to Peter.

“Sure.” Peter mumbled. You put your bowl down next to Peter’s and smiled at him, but he didn’t look at you.

“You look nice.” You tried to spark conversation. “I like this shirt on you.”

“Thanks.” Peter answered dully. Your lips tightened as you felt tears threaten your eyes.

“Please don’t shut me out Peter. It’s me. It’s peaches.” You laughed sadly as you looked at him. “I know we can’t be together but we can’t still be friends.”

“How can we be friends?” He finally looked at you. “How am I supposed to be your friend when my hands twitch because they want to hold yours so badly? Are we supposed to pretend we’re not in love with in each? And just wait until that love goes away? Is that your plan?”

“You’re not being fair. I’m doing this to protect you.” You threw your spoon down angrily and got out of your seat.

“I don’t need you to protect me.” Peter shouted as he got up as well.

“Then what do you need?” You shouted in his face. Peter immediately took your face in his hands and kissed you just as passionately as the first time. You clutched his shirt to keep him as close as possible as you kissed him back with everything you had in you. He pulled away much too soon, leaving the both of you breathless.

“More of that. That’s what I need.” He panted. “Everyday, if I could.”

“I’m not gonna change my mind about this.” You shook your head sadly.

“And I’m not gonna change how I feel about you.” Peter said definitively.

“Then nothings going to change.” You whispered as a tear rolled down your cheek.

“Alright then.” Peter stepped back from you. “The dance goes on.”

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doyumacy · 3 years

Text

ʀɪᴅᴇ ᴏᴜᴛ - 1

ʏᴜᴛᴀ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ x ᴍᴀʀᴋ ʟᴇᴇ

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʙᴇᴇɴ ɢᴏɴᴇ ꜰᴏʀ ᴀ ʏᴇᴀʀ, ʙᴜᴛ ᴠᴇʀʏ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ʜᴀꜱ ᴄʜᴀɴɢᴇᴅ. ʏᴏᴜʀ ʜᴀʟꜰ ʙᴏᴛʜᴇʀ’ꜱ ꜱᴛɪʟʟ ᴀ ʟᴇɢᴇɴᴅ ɪɴ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀɢʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ʀᴀᴄᴇꜱ. ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴀᴍᴇ ɢɪʀʟꜱ ʜᴀᴛᴇ ʏᴏᴜ. ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴀᴍᴇ ʙᴏʏ ꜱᴛɪʟʟ ᴍᴀᴋᴇꜱ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ ʀᴀᴄᴇ, ʙᴜᴛ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴏɴ’ᴛ ʟᴇᴛ ʜɪᴍ ɢᴇᴛ ᴄʟᴏꜱᴇ ᴇɴᴏᴜɢʜ ᴛᴏ ʜᴜʀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ. ɴᴏᴛ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ. ɴᴏᴛ ʟɪᴋᴇ ʙᴇꜰᴏʀᴇ.

ᴍᴀʀᴋ ʟᴇᴇ ʜᴀꜱ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴀʀʀɪᴠᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴛᴏᴡɴ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴇ’ꜱ ᴏɴʟʏ ꜱᴛᴀʏɪɴɢ ʟᴏɴɢ ᴇɴᴏᴜɢʜ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴇᴛ ᴜᴘ ᴀ ꜰᴇᴡ ꜱᴛʀᴇᴇᴛ ʀᴀᴄᴇꜱ, ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ᴍᴏɴᴇʏ, ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ꜰᴜɴ. ʙᴜᴛ ʜᴇ ᴍɪɢʜᴛ ꜱᴛɪʀ ᴜᴘ ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ᴛʀᴏᴜʙʟᴇ ᴡʜᴇɴ ʙᴇɢɪɴꜱ ʜᴀɴɢɪɴɢ ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʜɪꜱ ꜱᴘᴏɴꜱᴏʀ’ᴀ ʜᴀʟꜰ ꜱɪꜱᴛᴇʀ, ᴀɴᴅ ɪᴛ’ꜱ ɴᴏᴛ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ʜᴇʀ ʙʀᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ʜᴇ’ꜱ ᴘɪꜱꜱɪɴɢ ᴏꜰꜰ.

ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: ꜱᴍᴜᴛ, ᴅʀᴀᴍᴀ, ᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴ

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴅʀᴜɢꜱ, ɢᴜɴꜱ, ɢᴜɴꜱʜᴏᴛꜱ, ꜱᴇxᴜᴀʟ ᴊᴏᴋᴇꜱ, ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ ᴛʜʀᴇᴀᴛꜱ,

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 5,3ᴋ

three years ago

you slide out from under the car you've been working on when you hear an unfamiliar engine approaching the garage. it must be a customer, you think as you go to the front desk to help them.

the man who enters the office surprises you. he has light brown hair and is wearing black jeans with a white shirt with black flowers. his dark brown eyes sparkle with curiosity as he sees you. a black maserati is parked behind him.

"can i help you?" you ask, freely.

"i have a faulty spark plug and my garage is on the other side of the planet. they told me this was the best place in town."

"and it is. go ahead and go into the store."

"don't mechanics normally keep people waiting in the office?" he asked amused.

"only when the person doesn't know anything about cars. obviously you do, so you have to keep me company while i fix it," you smirk.

"what's your name, suh? -he asks, using the last name on your work shirt.

"y/n. yours?"

"yuta. nakamoto yuta."

"nice to meet you. let's get that car fixed, shall we?"

a few minutes later, the black car is with the hood open in the garage. yuta, on the other hand, is helping you by handing you the necessary tools. you let his fingers brush a little more than strictly necessary when yuta hands you a wrench.

yuta smiles and leans back against the car once you're done. "how much do i owe you?" he asks quietly.

it takes you a second to really register how close you are to each other. you look him in the eye. "how about you take me out to dinner and the debt is settled?" you ask in a sudden flare of audacity.

fortunately, he smiles.

"my thoughts exactly. what time will you be out here?

“six.”

he looks down at that ridiculously nice black gold watch.

"it's only an hour from now. how about i keep you company until then?"

"i'd like that."

"so what were you working on before I showed up?"

"my charger over there. there are some bastards who want to compete with me saying their luxury imports can beat it. tonight they're in for an ugly surprise."

you assume yuta has heard about your garage, knows about your regular clientele. they consider themselves the best store around to the fellow street racers. but to everyone else, it's just a small garage.

"that sounds like something i'd like to see. mind if i stay and watch you kick their asses?"

"it'd be my pleasure," you smile.

as expected, you end up following yuta back to his apartment after winning the race by a solid car length. the endorphins from winning the race flood your senses, and yuta is amazed that he had managed to stumble upon such an amazing girl. someone like him.

sl walking, you find yourself wrapped in warm arms and leaning against a hard chest. you caress the dragon-shaped tattoo on his right shoulder and plant a kiss on it.

a quiet moan tells you she is waking up. his arm tightens around her. he plants a kiss on your forehead.

"Good morning to you too," you say.

yuta rolls you onto his back and rests his torso on top of yours. "good morning."

"You look happy.

"i woke up with a beautiful, bad-ass, street-racing woman in my arms. how could i complain?"

you laugh. "well, i could say the same thing. it's not often i get to wake up next to a hot guy and that brother would probably beat up if he knew where i spent the night."

he barks out a laugh. "you're most likely right..." he bites his lip. "there's something you need to know."

your smile disappears. "you're not married, are you?"

"no! god, no," he replies instantly. "i just want to know if you want it to be more than a brief fling."

you are silent for a moment as he thought.

"yes, i think so. i mean, we could get to know each other better but yes," you explain.

"then we're on the same page," you nod absently. "do you want to have breakfast before we go on with our talk?"

you can't help but get a little nervous. what does he have to say?

"what do you want for breakfast?"

"uh..." you sit up, holding the black sheet against your chest to cover yourself. "whatever. i'm not particularly picky."

yuta nods and gets out of bed, pulling on a pair of gray sweatpants. he leaves his room and you lie back down on the bed. your cell phone rings somewhere in yuta's room and you grunt getting up to look for it. you find it inside your jeans.

"y/n! where the hell are you?" johnny asks as soon as you answer the phone. “you didn’t come home last night, and jaehyun said there was a guy watching you the entire race.”

“don’t worry about it, brother. that guy was my date last night. i’m at this place right now,” you grin.

“hold on, you had a date?! who? why didn’t you tell me?” johnny bombards you with questions.

you sigh. you saw this coming.

“everything all right?” yuta asks, entering his bedroom.

“my brother,” you say with your mouth. “johnny! easy with the questions. i’ll tell you later, bye!”

“be responsible!” it can be heard from the phone and you hang up.

you exhale dramatically and fall back on the bed.

“trouble, dear?” yuta inquiries.

you raise your head to look at him. “big brothers are tedious,” you announce after a minute.

“i wouldn’t know; i’m the older brother.”

“oh?”

yuta smiles warmly. “i have a younger brother. the idiot used to fight older bullies in the yard, and i was the one who had to finish them off.”

you smirk. “you protected him. my brother’s the same way.”

“let’s eat, okay? i still need to talk about something important,” yuta declares.

you nod and he tosses you slightly one of his shirts. you put it on and grab your panties putting them on.

yuta made sunny side up eggs and french toasts. between bites, yuta begins to speak. “i work for the korean mafia.”

“huh?” you stop eating and stare at him. “you what?”

yuta laughs lightly. “i work for the korean mafia.” he repeats. “i bet you’re wondering what a japanese guy is doing working for the korean mafia.”

“not exactly my first thought but yes,” you shrug. “what do you do?”

“let’s say i’m a middleman between the korean mafia and the yakuza,” he confesses.

you frown. “so you buy goods from them and sell them?”

yuta raises an eyebrow at you. “what are you? a businesswoman?”

you laugh and have a bite of your toast. “i went to business school, but i dropped out this semester.”

“hot,” he plants a kiss on your lips. “so yes, that’s my job. aren’t you scared?”

“of what? you? your job?” you snort. “i’ve seen way worse in the underground. i gotta say i’m surprised because i thought you were a good boy.”

yuta chuckles. “i am good at other things,” he winks at you.

you push the plate aside and sit on his lap. “i can’t recall, do you mind refreshing my memory?”

yuta grins and places his hand on your ass cheeks. “aren’t you too sore?”

“pain is my best friend,” you nip at his lip and he groans.

yuta kisses you and his hand goes to your throat tilting your head to the side and biting your neck harshly. you whimper at the painful yet pleasurable sensation. yuta shushes you and darts his eyes to you. “i thought you enjoyed the pain, baby girl.”

one year ago

you’re standing in front of his gravestone and place the flower bouquet next to it. the only sound is the wind, rustling through a nearby copse of trees. it has been five days since yuta died and the hole in your chest only gets deeper.

it hurts.

you’re broken.

your life without him means nothing. the city without him means nothing. nothing makes sense without him.

“you shouldn’t have died,” you say. “we could have been better.” you mumble, sitting in front of the grave. “it’s weird, today i woke up and i thought i heard your voice. am i going crazy?” you scoff.

you stare at the gravestone and then lower your heard. “i came to say goodbye. i can’t stay here anymore. everywhere i go i see your face. everyone reminds me of you.”

you feel tears streaming down your face. “i’ll never forget you, yuta. i love you so much.” you burst out crying.

after you left town, you were pretty much everywhere: singapore, thailand, indonesia, philippines, malaysia and even japan for a few weeks. racing and making a fame known as the ‘nameless girl’ who would beat everyone.

you left a note to johnny saying you’d be okay and you would return when you feel ready to.

you didn’t stay long in every country and you didn’t make any relations so things didn’t attach to you there. you were lonely but you got used to it. and you didn’t dislike it.

one night, you decided it was time to come back home. yuta would never come back and you felt you moved on.

the train arrives at its last stop and you grab your small suitcase exiting it. you walk and take a taxi to your house, or johnny’s house just to find a party. people and their racing cars everywhere.

of course. it’s friday.

you get into your house and see people everywhere. people dancing, no, grinding on each other’s bodies and blowing some smoke. perhaps weed. you walk through the crowded living room and spot johnny sipping a beer. you don’t know how he's going to react since you didn’t tell anyone you’re back.

you walk to johnny but he’s interrupted by a red haired and kissed him. you roll your eyes, johnny and his bitches.

you change your direction walking to the kitchen and see jaehyun talking to some people. he turns to you and doesn’t seem to notice you, it’s when he turns again and his face brightens up with a smile. “y/n!” he walks to you and tugs you for a hug, lifting you from the ground.

“hi,” you giggle, placing a kiss on his cheek.

jaehyun puts you back on the ground and smiles, "i almost didn't recognize you, you've changed so much."

“i just dyed my hair: i got babylights,” you grin.

“i like them, you look great,” jaehyun nods. “but where have you been?!”

“huh everywhere?” you shrug.

“and you couldn’t call?” he stares at you.

“i know, i’m sorry,” you rest a hand on his shoulder. “we’ll talk later, okay? where’s everyone?”

“johnny is lena, jungwoo is having a blunt with jinsoul in the yard and of course jisung is in his room, he’s not allowed to come downstairs,” jaehyun comments.

you nod and rest your hands on your waist. “i don’t know half of these people. who are they?”

“johnny became kind of a sponsor?” jaehyun frowns and you laugh. “no, it’s true! half of these people are rich kids betting on johnny's people, he met two guys that are literally gods of racing.”

“i’d like to see that,” you add. “what are their names?”

“mark lee and lee donghyuck,” jaehyun hands you a beer. “they’re dickheads but we’ve been getting so much money because of them.”

you scoff. “they’re just lucky. i am back.”

jaehyun whistles, smiling. “that’s the attitude, baby. i can’t wait to see you race again.”

you smirk. “i bet you wanna.”

“ah, johnny’s coming,” jaehyun murmurs.

you turn and see a blond haired johnny walking towards you. you tuck your hands into your jeans pocket and smile nicely. “hi brother.”

“when people started saying my sister was here i didn’t believe it because maybe she left this fucking town a year ago leaving just a note!” johnny exclaims. “and thought ‘why would she return just like that?’”

you sigh. “i’m sorry, johnny. but i’m back and i’m okay. that’s the only thing that should matters.”

johnny rolls his eyes. “are you dumb?”

you frown. “just because you’re my brother i d-

“half-brother,” johnny remarks.

“fuck you, johnny,” you hiss and leave the kitchen

when johnny gets upset he tends to be the classical dickhead and uses the ‘half-brother’ excuse just to hurt you. you think you might deserve it, but why is it so hard for him to understand why you left? why you need to leave?

maybe it’s because he has never loved someone the way you loved yuta. or maybe he’s too selfish to understand it.

of course you also think you didn’t do the right thing by simply disappearing out of the blue, but again, you don’t owe anything to no one.

you go to the bathroom that is next to the stairs and groan when you realise it’s locked. you lean against the wall and sigh. next to you, there are three girls whispering and laughing. you don’t care, until you hear your name.

“did you see y/n? she’s back,” one of them says.

“yeah. i thought she was in jail,” the other mocks.

“in jail? for what?” she laughs.

“apparently she was the one that killed yuta,” she comments. “and ran away, but my boyfriend told me the police caught her.”

the blonde one laughs. “poor thing.”

“and i’d go back to jail for ripping your ugly faces off,” you murmur, still leaning against the wall.

the girls stare at you and they decide to leave. you groan, rolling your eyes. “assholes.”

someone walking down the hallway whistles and smiles at you. “should i be concerned about my well being right now?.”

you look at them and you see a black haired guy, wearing a green jacket with black ripped jeans and black shirt. you scoff. “fuck off, dude.”

“but please don’t rip my face off.,” the guy rests his hand on his chest.

you stare at him and clench your jaw. “bugger off, dude. really, i’m not in the mood to take someone’s shit.”

“sorry,” he nods. “i’m mark by the way,” he passes the bottle of the beer he’s drinking to his free hand and extends his hand.

you look at his hand, hesitant. you shake your head and take it. “y/n.”

he grins, gripping at your hand. “you’re the famous y/n.”

you chuckle. “and you’re not the famous mark lee.”

mark smiles sideways. “so you’ve heard about me.”

“very little,” you shrug. “nothing impressive.”

“ah, they weren’t wrong when they said you’re a bitch,” mark frees your hand.

“did i hurt your feelings?” you pout mockingly.

“you’re gonna need more than that to hurt my feelings, gorgeous,” he winks at you.

you nod. “noted, boy. well, it was nice talking to you.”

“you leaving already?” mark asks.

“yeah. i’m tired and i need a place to sleep,” you say. “i guess i’ll see you around.”

mark nods. “have a good night, y/n.”

(...)

“when did she get back? how come i didn't see her?” donghyuck slides off the plastic armrest of the outdoor sofa he was sitting on.

jeno walks away to get a drink. “who 's back?” he asks.

“y/n suh,” mark replies.

“johnny’s sister?” jeno looks at him.

donghyuck and mark nod.

“what was she in jail for, like, a year?” jeno’s voice drops to a whisper.

“she was in jail?” donghyuck stares at mark.

“no. she just disappeared last fall,” mark explains.

“it was probably jail,” donghyuck adds, “that or she had a baby. i mean, the timing kind of fits for that, don’t you think?”

“and where’s the baby, smartass?” mark glances at him.

“gave it away for adoption,” donghyuck shrugs.

“what are you fuckers talking about,” johnny questions, going outside the house.

“your sibling,” jeno admits, earning an elbow to his side by mark.

johnny laughs and turns to look out over his yard. “which one?”

“y/n.”

“watch it, dude,” jaehyun warns him, joining them outside.. “johnny’s not too forgiving when it comes to his siblings.”

“noted.” jeno nods.

“anyways, i’m here to talk business,” johnny sits in front of them.

“back to the things i like,” mark comments.

johnny grins. “there’s a race next weekend, 15 grand for the winner.”

donghyuck whistles. “i like what i’m hearing already.”

“it’s a bit complicated since it won’t be in an enclosed area as usual. it will be in downtown LA,” johnny adds.

“count me in,” mark says.

“dude, do you know how risky it is?” jeno stares at him.

“i’ve done riskier things and here i am,” mark rolls his eyes. “i’ll be there, johnny.”

“you’re my favourite,” johnny smiles and looks at jeno and donghyuck. “you two are disappointing me.”

“i can live with that but not in jail,” donghyuck smirks.

“pussy,” jaehyun hums.

“sorry mr. in-n-out-from-jail,” donghyuck rolls his eyes.

mark chuckles. “that race it’s already mine. and the cops can suck my dick, they wish they were as fast as me.”

“my canadian boy right here is the shit,” johnny smiles.

(...)

the bright neon lights. the skimpy clothing worn by chasers. the many cars lined up.

it's another night in los angeles, and another night means another race.

mark breathes it in as he leans on his orange acura nsx. not a single scratch in sight on the top of the car. although he's working with a sponsor, he has his own gang known as death angels, because they’re risk takers, or most of them are.. he can hear the countless bickering of his gang, who are also his closest friends. donghyuck, jeno, and earphone yves, lucas, bickering about god knows what now. jeno and lucas are conversing about seeing some new people joining the race.

there's no doubt he probably owns the most showy and expensive car in the entire parking lot. until a brown haired girl, who he knows, motioned him to come over.

you.

"seems like you got a challenger," donghyuck murmurs.

"tsk, anyone can beat her. what's so special about her anyway?" mark says, annoyed.

yves clicks her tongue. "i wouldn't be so sure about it, babe."

you get off from your car, hair tied up, perfectly showing your features. your toned eyes are slightly covered with black eyeliner. wearing tight jeans, black t-shirt and a red leather jacket.

you look like you are meant to be there. not a chaser wanting attention, not a flag girl wanting to show herself off, but. tracer. the crowd don't bother you. you begin to slightly look around, and that's when you see mark. you and mark lock eyes, and with a strut, you walk with a confident walk over mark.

crossing your arms, showing off your figure, you take a breath, and open your mouth. "no shit you're here as well."

mark scoffs. "i'm a car racer, where else was i supposed to be?"

"junior leagues," you shrug and you hear one of his friends laugh.

mark stares at you and grins. "i challenge you to a race. simply, nobody else. that is if you are up for it."

the offer is rather simple.

an easy 10-second style race, just the two of you, nobody else.

you let out a breathy chuckle, nodding your head. "alright then, it's settled." you reply, standing up to his level, and leaning over his ear. "but don't be crying when you loose, sweetheart"

mark scoffs at that. "you're underestimating my ability right now, gorgeous." he says, poking his lips out in a seductive manner.

you laugh and he smiles.

you turn around for just a few seconds, yelling over to him words that are barely audible. “te veré al inicio de la línea,” (i'll see you at the starting lineyou say.

mark’s orange acura nsx is a perfect fit considering the late at night arrival they have been in. it’s his prized possession, obviously. he checks the side of his car, smirking to himself seeing the NOS lined up on the passenger seat. however, your white nissan gtr is a good contrast. no dent is seen on it, and the engines flare when you start it, earning an erupt from the spectators. fifteen thousand dollars are on the game, and you need that money.

you notice the flag-girl as one of the members of death angels. she wears a simple purple and black outfit: purple harem pants and a black bomber jacket, carefully showing her slightest laced bra. she looks good, there’s no denying it. and with that, she points at mark, starting his engines and giving a show for his car. then she points to you, and you’re wearing a smile on your face. your engines starting.

and time seems to stop when you hear words emit from her mouth. “go!”

mark and you immediately go and hit the accelerator at about the same time, so you two are neck and neck. you know your strategy, and mark knows his.

8 seconds left.

knowing this, mark uses his NOS, eating a prideful laugh and his back hitting the seat. but you have different plans. you wear a smug look, and let out a giggle. “the NOS he’s using will take a shorter time than it relatively should.” you think you yourself, and activate yours.

6 seconds left.

you fly back to your seat, seeing the crowd erupt in cheers. mark sees your white nissan catch up to him, and before he knows, you’re way ahead of him.

“shit!” he yells.

2 seconds.

and before he knows, you are at the finish line, turning your car around and creating a donut with it, earning praise from the crowd. marks ends up second, or last in this case. he gets out of the car with a scowl, and you make your way to him, with a smile on your face, and your hair is out of the ponytail you have been wearing.

“the NOS you used, doesn't take up as much time as normal NOS used. it was a bit too early,” you say, giving your hand out to him. he clicks his tongue, now slightly irritated to know the fact you're indeed right. marks gives you the money. “pass by the shop any time you want.”

“why would you want to help me anyways? we’re rivals now,” he cocks an eyebrow.

you sigh, when you are interrupted by the shouts of numerous spectators and blaring sirens.

“cops! cops!”

everything happens so fast. next thing you know, you are in the back of your car, hitting your foot on the accelerator and immediately rushing out of the area, keeping an eye out for cops in your view mirror. luckily, you don’t seem to spot many. but where you don’t look?

right in front of you.

bullets ricochet throughout the alley way, earning a slight flinch from you. you are scared. only a few times bullets have been in front of you. you quickly take out your silver handgun from out of your shirt, shooting at the cop, not enough to kill him, but it’s enough to get him to surrender.

“bullet proof vests don’t cover the legs, idiot,” you mumble, smirking ever so slightly. you turn a sharp left, going back to the place where you call home. a right. then left. another right. straight forward 2 miles, and there you are.

“ＳＵＨ　ＭＥＣＨＡＮＩＣＳ　ＡＮＤ　ＭＡＮＵＦＡＣＴＵＲＩＮＧ” is written in bold letters. you love this place, you and your brother practically grow up there. you make your way inside, after swiftly parking your car into your garage. the shop is somewhat connected to the house from behind, so you make your way out of the garage, locking the door swiftly, and arriving with 2 familiar faces.

“you had no business ruining mark’s race!” johnny stands in front of you. he’s angry.

“forget about that!” jaehyun stares at johnny and then at you. “you just returned like two hours ago and the cops are after you already? can you be more careful?”

“ah, br- sorry, half-brother, jaehyun. i appreciate the concern and all, but i got this covered, you know?” you reply and look at your brother. “and please, if you really cared about mark you would have recommended him a new NOS. his sucks.”

jaehyun presses his lips together. “it’s true. i’ve been telling you about that for weeks.”

johnny rolls his eyes. “it’s not my fault. the kid won’t change them.”

“well, then you should find a new guy because you won’t make much money with him.” you say and you take out your money. “and me? i am back, baby.”

jaehyun smirks. “then i guess beers are on you.”

“you guess right.”

(...)

mark rushes off in his car, having donghyuck joining him. he locks his gun, having his fingers on the trigger for any given moment. mark sighs out a stuttered breath, immediately hitting the accelerator and rushing out of the way. he has another tank full of NOS, that donghyuck simply swaps out, for mark to use at any moment.

“jeno and yves have made it back alright,” donghyuck tells him, while mark drives at an inhumane pace.

mark nods and takes the exit 12, driving to glendale. and after almost 25 minutes, they arrive at their warehouse. he parks his car next to jeno’s and they make their way inside.

“dude! that was fucking awesome!” jeno approaches him. “now i understand why the streets wouldn't shut up about her.”

yves rolls his eyes. “it was just lucky. she’s not that good.”

“then you wouldn't mind racing against her,” donghyuck hums.

“please, she’s nothing to me,” yves smirks.

“she got you mad,” mark walks to the kitchen. “she is something to you.”

“anyway,” jeno locks the door. “who sent those policemen? it’s weird, we have been using the same location for months,” jeno asks.

“someone was there. someone who’s purpose wasn’t to spectate or race, but to infliritrate,” mark sighs, adjusting his belt from his jeans.

“i’m wondering if suh is single,” donghyuck sits, ignoring the talk his friends are having.

“johnny or y/n?” mark mocks him.

“she doesn’t date,” yves sits next to him. “or that’s what i’ve heard.”

“since when you’re a fan of gossip?” jeno frowns.

“you don’t need to gossip, everyone talks about her and her tragic love life,” yves shrugs.

“so she wasn’t in jail?” donghyuck inquiries.

“i already told you she wasn’t in jail, smartass,” mark tosses him a beer.

“then where was she?” jeno sits in front of donghyuck.

yves slides a little on the couch. “you ever heard about nakamoto yuta?”

the three men shake their heads. yves rolls her eyes. “he used to work for the korean mafia and the yakuza doing what? i don’t know, but he was well known before we arrived here.”

“and what happened to him?” jeno asks.

“he messed with the wrong people, and he paid for his mistakes,” yves says. “they got him and killed him.”

“and how is he related to y/n?” mark rubs his chin with his index finger.

“they were together,” yves pulls out a box of cigarettes. “and days after his murder, she went away.”

jeno grimaces. “i would’ve done the same. it’s sad.”

“well, he’s dead and we can’t do shit to help her,” donghyuck stretches out his arms. “she’s hot.”

“dude,” jeno chuckles. “we were just talking about his dead boyfriend and you’re saying she’s hot?”

“donghyuck only uses his lower head,” yves mocks. “why are you even surprised?”

mark laughs and donghyuck rolls his eyes. “i’m gonna race against her again.”

“dude, you want to lose again?” jeno stares at him.

mark frowns. “a little bit of support?”

(...)

a few days later, you are working at your peace in call, the mechanic shop. you work with jungwoo, jaehyun, and johnny. jaehyun is an incredibly talented racer, that’s for sure, he was the one who taught you everything you know. johnny and jaehyun are practically always together.

they have been friends since high school, and he’s close with you as well, despite you going to a different school.

so, there you are currently stocking up the shelves and displays with certain kinds of replacements and NOS, to whoever needs them. you wear leather pants, along with a white turtleneck shirt. your hair is down.

“do you have everything locked? storage room too, jungwoo?” you ask the blond.

“yep! johnny is currently working on the new car by the way. he said the client wanted something old school, and because of this, he got inspiration from somewhere,” he informs.

you raise an eyebrow, handing jungwoo the remaining products form the shelves, and making your way inside the shop. you see a black haired man glancing at the shelves with NOS.

you approach him. “hi, welcome. can i help you?”

the man turns and he smiles at you.

mark lee.

you stop the urge of rolling your eyes. “and we see each other.”

“you told me i could pass by whenever i wanted to,” he shrugs. “

“that was me being nice because i beat you,” you smirk.

mark grins. “then i suppose i should go to the Fascinare’s shop? i heard they’re nicer.”

if you and johnny didn’t hate the Facinare you probably would’ve told him to go, but since they are your competition you couldn't afford losing a customer.

you sigh. “of course we can help you.” you fake a smile.

“that’s what i thought,” mark says. “how many days will it take?”

you take a look at his car. “up to 1 to 3 days.”

he nods. “fantastic. i’ll be looking forward to racing against you again then.”

you scoff, crossing your arms on your chest. “i can give your car all the NOS in this world and yet, you won’t beat me.”

“you were just lucky the other night, gorgeous,” he winks at you.

“maybe if you focus on racing instead of flirting you might beat me,” you grin.

mark chuckles and nods. “right. i’ll leave you my phone so you can give me a call when my baby is ready.”

“my god,” you hum. “be right back.”

you go behind the counter and grab a small notebook and a pen. you hand it to mark and write his number down. “i’ll be looking forward for that call.”

“hopefully it won't be me making it,” you smile falsely.

“alright. see you then,” marks says, exiting the shop. “don’t miss me much, gorgeous.”

you roll your eyes again, and smile lowering your head.

you then frown and shake your head.

#yuta x reader #yuta smut #yuta imagine #yuta nct #mark lee smut #mark lee imagine #mark lee x reader #mark lee nct #nct smut #nct 127 smut #nct 127 x reader #mark lee #yuta nakamoto #nakamoto yuta

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theparanormalperiodical · 3 years

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What The Hell Is Satanism? The Backstory, The Beliefs, And The A-To-Z On Devil Worshippers

4 days ago, Nike decided to sue a small indie art collective based in New York.

This isn’t news. This isn’t the first time a profit-mongering fashion-giant has targeted businesses trying to make a name for themselves. And it won’t be the last.

But this time, there’s probably something else influencing the executives reclining on their plush leather seats: they said it was because MSCHF stamped on the Nike Swoosh. But we all know what the real problem was:

These kicks were soaked with Satanic imagery - oh, and a single drop of human blood.

"MSCHF and its unauthorised Satan Shoes are likely to cause confusion and dilution and create an erroneous association between MSCHF's products and Nike”

Translation: no, we don’t want to be associated with devil worshippers.

Satan and his followers have once again hit the press following Lil Nas X’s latest viral YouTube hit and release of his custom footwear. And he does the belief system - and the LGBTQA+ community - justice.

But Satanism goes much deeper than pole dancing your way to hell.

It goes deeper than the fears of your evangelical aunt, it goes deeper than the rumours of a sacrificial ritual that happened in the woods outside of town, and it goes deeper than QAnon conspiracy theories.

Today we explore what Satanism really is. And what it really isn’t.

*twerks towards hell*

What Is Satanism?

Satanism is a group of modern religions that are centred around Satan, an entity in Abrahamic religions (e.g. Christianity and Judaism) that rebelled against God, has power over Hell and demons, and seduces humans into sin. Satan features in a vast number of major religions: he started off in Zoroastrianism, then making his way to Judaism, Islam, and Christianity. But the modern followers of Satanism are inspired by the Christian fallen angel and ruler of hell.

A large proportion of Satanists follow atheistic Satanism - they don’t necessarily believe in an entity but follow a philosophy that focuses on individualism and satisfying the ego, or rebel specifically against the dominance of Christianity in Western society.

Although Satan is typically considered the embodiment of evil, most strands of Satanism are not. However, there are some groups that fit this mould like the Order of the Nine Angles: they’re neo-Nazis.

The actual worship of Satanism only began just over 50 years ago, in 1966. But the use of the term ‘Satanist’ stretches back centuries further. Calling someone a ‘Satanist’ (or something to that effect) was an insult reserved for those that disagreed with a Christian group’s beliefs.

A Not-very-brief-but-look-I-tried-ok History Of Satanism

Here’s the thing about Satanism: at one point in history, every religious group was deemed Satanist.

You see, that’s how it all started.

Even the term ‘Satan’ originally meant ‘adversary’. It didn’t necessarily refer to a horned, evil ex-angel once scorned by the Almighty. It meant ‘other’; it was just an insult. It wasn’t created by groups of men draped in blood red robes preparing to slaughter a virgin to their ungodly master - Satanism was actually created by Christians.

The word ‘Satanism’ was first recorded in French and English literature back in the 16th century. Against the backdrop of the Reformation (when the Western Christian Church split off into Protestantism, Catholicism, and other more niche shards) rival religious groups would label each other with such terms frequently in various tracts and texts.

It was not to say that Protestants, for example, were actively worshipping Satan but were instead deviating from what Catholics thought was true Christianity. By ‘incorrectly’ serving God, they were supporting Satan’s claim to ruin the world with sin and evil.

*Disney villain laugh*

In the 19th century it broadened to encompass anyone that lived an immoral lifestyle and was thus serving Satan’s will. But in this same century it evolved yet again.

Yep, it’s time to introduce the actual Satanists: texts began to emerge that mention people that revered and worshipped Satan. It took a long 300 years for Satanists to reclaim their title. But the story doesn’t end here: this is a really important theme that runs like blood through the history of Satanism. Or, rather, the history of religious prejudice and persecution.

Throughout, well, all of human history, we have been swept up unto the belief that there is a dark, evil force lurking within our communities. The most recent example claims Joe Biden and his Democrat friends are Satan-worshipping baby-eating America-hating pedophiles. The fears of a discrete force that can hide at will fits the descriptors of the Judeo-Christian devil. And so, it had been applied to persecuted groups for centuries.

The Witch Trials and the Spanish Inquisition are the most famous examples of this. Satanism evolved in the Medieval era to scapegoat certain groups or to reinforce social norms by emphasising the apparently very real fight between good and evil.

Narratives of the French Revolution at the time were contorted with rumours of revolutionaries being part of a secret Satanic conspiracy. This revolution struck a blow to the power of the Catholic church, and some fingers pointed towards the dark lord of hell himself. Some even believed these revolutionaries had amassed supernatural powers to curse people and shape-shift into various creature ‘n’ critters like cats or fleas!

In the 20th century, another historical shift took place. And this time it (supposedly) happened from within the secret societies themselves: non-fiction authors and tabloids began to recount the allegations of people who once claimed to have been part of Satanic groups before converting to Christianity.

Doreen Irvine claimed she was given the ability to levitate amongst other witchy-powers. But Irvine’s claims sent shockwaves across the pond in the US. Much more horrific allegations were about to take centre stage. In the 1980s this would reach its climax with the Satanic Panic:

Also known as the Satanism Scare, the book Michelle Remembers (1980) detailed the alleged repressed memories of a psychiatrist’s patient which claimed they had been abused as a child for Satanic rituals. In these rituals, babies would be sacrificed and Satan would appear.

Reports of sexual child abuse for these rituals - known as Satanic Ritual Abuse - proliferated until the 1983 case made against the McMartin family. The McMartins owned a preschool in California and were allegedly sexually abusing the children in their care for ritualistic purposes. A lengthy trial ensued and the McMartins were eventually cleared of all charges.

But it was too late.

An evangelical anti-Satanism movement emerged claiming no children would lie about such claims and therefore all accused must be guilty. A conspiracy theory similar to those before emerged claiming SRA was rampant across the US, but it lost momentum by the turn of the 90s. Various investigations by the FBI and British government looked into SRA but found no evidence of Satanism or rituals in any cases of child abuse. Some lone cases of pedophiles did involve rituals, but these were isolated events that never involved Satanist groups.

The 7 Types Of Satanism

Satanism is an umbrella term to describe a vast array of religious groups. There’s a swirling sea of beliefs from the philosophical Satanists that don’t actually believe in Satan to the minority groups that are willing to sacrifice humans in the name of worshipping their god.

However, this ocean does share a common focus on individualism, self-perception, and non-conformity - traditional traits associated with the devil.

There are 3 forms of Satanism: reactive (attempts to invert Christianity and celebrates rebellion), rationalist (atheist and materialistic beliefs), and esoteric (actually worships Satan and draws upon religions like Paganism and western Esotericism).

The Church of Satan kick-started modern Satanism. Erected in 1966, Anton LaVey promoted an atheistic philosophy that focused on indulgence and an ‘eye for an eye’ ethical code that celebrated mankind as animals in an amoral world. Hate and aggression were not wrong but were advantageous for one’s survival. Yes, the seven deadly sins were actually beneficial for the individual.

The First Satanic Church was founded on Halloween night in 1999 by the daughter of Anton LaVey after his church was taken over by a new administration that Karla deemed against her father’s work.

The Satanic Temple is an atheist-activist group that stages political ‘pranks’ that rebel against the political and social dominance of Christianity. They aim to showcase religious hypocrisy in stunts such as performing a ‘Pink Mass’ over the grave of a Westboro Baptist Church goer (known for their explicit and offensive signs). They use Satan as a metaphor to rebel against a society that restricts personal autonomy and curiosity.

Luciferianism is a belief system that pivots around the characteristics associated with Lucifer. Followers believe Lucifer is the illuminated aspect of Satan, thus considering themselves Satanists. But some believe he is a more positive force than Satan. They follow the ancient myths of Egypt, Rome, and western Occultism. They consider him the true god - a destroyer but also a ‘light-bringer’ to the world.

The Temple of Set does not necessarily revere Satan by instead a being they call Set. Satan was the corrupted name of set, an entity that is the one true god. It gave humanity intellectual abilities to separate it from animals and they believe in a Setian philosophy with self-deification as the aim of all humanity.

The Order of the Nine Angles was inspired by ancient Pagan groups resident in Shropshire in the late 60s. But the founder of the group, Anton Long, is considered the pseudonym of neo-Nazi David Myatt. They encourage human sacrifice as a part of rituals and several members have joined the police and the military to do this without getting caught. The ONA is linked to several rapes, murders, cases of child abuse, and right-wing terrorism. They are also connected to several neo-nazi terror organisations.

The Joy Of Satan - contrary to its name - ain’t joyful. It’s an Occultist group that combines Satanism, Paganism, and UFO conspiracy theories. Just like the ONA, they’re Nazis. They believe Satan is one of many demonic deities which are powerful humanoid extraterrestrial beings which are equated with ancient gods. They believe Satan created humanity and brought us knowledge.

Reactivism isn’t a form of Satanism that is followed by an organised group but rather practiced on a personal, isolated level. It is considered an anti-social means of rebelling in a society dominated by Christianity. Most reactive Satanists are adolescents, mentally-disturbed, and have taken part in criminal activity associated with Satanic rituals they discovered through personal learning.

For example, in the 1970s two groups of teenagers in LA and Big Sur killed 3 people and ate parts of their corpses as a part of rituals devoted to Satan. Plotted murder and cannibalism are common traits of reactive Satanist crimes.

The A-To-Z Of Devil Worship

Baphomet

A deity that the Knights Templar allegedly worshipped. It is associated with the Sabbatic Goat which represents the equilibrium of opposites (half-man and half-goat, male and female, good and evil).

Black Mass

It is traditionally known as a requiem mass (funeral mass) in the Roman Catholic church from which the celebrants wear black clothes. However, it has been appropriated by Satanic cults. It often involves a naked woman as an altar and is the site of various Satanic magical rituals.

Cutter vs Wilkinson

A Supreme Court case which claimed federal funds cannot deny prisoners accommodations that are needed to engage in religious practices. Five residents of an Ohio prison including a member of a white supremacist Christian church, a Wiccan, and a Satanist filed the suit, claiming the officials failed to accommodate their ‘nonmainstream’ religions.

Devil

The personification of evil which shows up in many different religions. It is Satan in Abrahamic texts.

Demon

A supernatural entity often associated with evil. The original Greek word - daimon - did not have negative connotations.

Demonology

The study of demons.

Demonolatry

The worship of demons.

Goats

Satanism is always associated with goats. But why? There are several reasons: Baphomet is half-man, half-goat; the ‘infernal goat’ is depicted in many witches’ sabbats; Pagan traditions involved horned gods Christian forces deemed devilish; and the tarot card depicting the devil is a goat. In 1966, the church of Satan adopted baphomet as the sigil.

Lucifer

The name of mythological and religious figures associated with Venus. It is associated in the Christian tradition with Satan as he supposedly fell from heaven. Often called ‘the morning star’ or described as ‘light bringing’.

Stanislaw Przybyszewski

The first guy to promote a Satanic philosophy.

What do you think?

Let me know in a comment below! And while you’re there, make sure you like and reblog this article.

Want to read an article on the paranormal every Saturday? And a real ghost story everyday/whenever I’m bothered? Hit follow!

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yostresswritinggirl · 3 years

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Antinomy

Part 1; establishing grounds. VIBE

"Do you know the spiritual meaning of 11? What about in numerology? You'll find it quite intriguing, funny even... until it starts making sense." You've witnessed and harnessed the way and days he had grown to be; this fic enumerates the trials of the 11th before he became a Harbinger under your care. From strangers to mentor to friends to love- Childe made a grave mistake, now you’re once again strangers.

Pairing -> Childe x Harbinger!Fem!Reader

Word Count -> 3277

Themes -> Friends to admirers, slow burn, mentor, fluffy, suddenly ANGST

Series -> #Sojourner Specials (600 Followers Event) Part 2

Warning -> Blood and injury, decent? amount

The biblical meaning of number 11 comes from one's understanding that it is associated with things that would be considered imperfect, a disorganization of systems, and the disorder or chaos of things. The 11 carries a vibrational frequency of balance. It represents male and female equality. It contains both sun energy and moon energy simultaneously yet holding them both in perspective separate-ness. Perfect balance.

act i. first sighting

The first you've heard and the first you've seen the likes of him was long before you were anyone important in the organizational structure of the Fatui. You were a simple agent making rounds around Snezhnaya's city borders, nothing more, nothing less.

During these parts by the winter forest of Morepesok where time seems slowed down as the snowflakes flutter without urgency, it reminds you of what home feels like, and you felt more free to delve into a sense of relaxation away from other chatters from your co-workers.

You were ready to lean on a tree and just dissociate from the world of stress you had put yourself into— and then you heard a distant cry, accompanied by the pants and howls of wolves. Your body immediately lunged forward, finding your ankles sinking deep into snow as you trudged through the terrain as fast as you can. A child, a literal child somewhere in the forest getting chased by wolves.

When you've arrived by the scene, you registered a tuff of orange hair almost topple you over as they smack into your body, a startled cry eliciting from them as you throw him behind you in quick succession, your polearm manifesting to throw off the wolves that had locked in on the sight of him, "Go! Get out of here!" You urged at the sound of his silence as you carefully swung the first hit on the lunging wolf, being a tad too late to hit it with the edge's blade only for it to be knocked to the side by the shaft. At the sight of the battle you finally relieved a sigh when you heard him and hope that he knows his way back. But your work was not cut yet, you thought as you realized how the pack of four now encircles you with hungry gazes and drooling jaws.

The moments after that was filled with song and dance as you fought hard to overcome the might of four ferocious beasts, the polearm swiftly twirling in your arms to counter attacks from all sides. You twist your arm behind, lodging the tip of your spear in the throat of the wolf before delivering a kick to the head of another one lunging from the front. You made quick work to disengage your spear from the dead wolf, but the two idle wolves had noticed this as they lunged in coordination.

Now bloodied and bruised, exhausted from fatigue and frostbite, your final wolf to slaughter was inches away from your face. Its jaw had locked around your weapon in muffled growls and you can only keep him there with your arms losing its strength. Your blood sprayed around the battlefield of once white snow as the third wolf's sharp canines had lodged itself around your leg before you killed it through a stab.

You humored yourself with a wry laugh at the thought that it would leave a pretty nasty scar. The amount of blood you lost is already taking its toll at your consciousness and the last thing you saw before you finally succumbed to oncoming death was the wolf's awaiting maw, and a prickle of ice.

You only wish then that the kid you saved, only a few years younger than you, had left the forest in safety.

act ii. second assignment

Zapolyarny Palace was a magnificent architecture that towered all other manmade structures in the nation of the Cryo Archon. Now you, the most recent addition to the Harbingers roams these hallways regularly with agents following your trail. Lady Columbina, the 10th Fatui Harbinger, wields a peculiar job within the ranks of the organization.

It was years after the incident in Morepesok on which you came out with a nasty scar on your leg, but a proud Cryo Vision stuck to the side of your torso. When you donned it after the Tsaritsa had called for your presence (she must have sensed the bestowal of the elements) and reported your rounds during that mission, the Cryo Archon's piercing gaze had softened in intensities that washed over your whole soul with the warmth you would not expect of her element. Ever since then she had regarded you with attention to spare, your potential and line of work exposed, and had you easily rising up the ranks at the guidance of the 9th. Despite the gruesome and painful trials you had to go through before you can proudly walk on your own.

The informant by your side had handed you a thick folder earlier and you had been pacing around the hallways the whole time you had been investigating the contents. Said agent feebly and awkwardly following you as if expecting you'd walk away or disregard him for his absence. It was stupid from a bystander's perspective, but you were too focused on work to worry about it.

Well, focused, because you were interrupted by the sounds of clashing and sparring by the quadrangle within the Palace. You stopped your pacing and look up to see a batch of agents training with a few skirmishers in routine. A majority of them easily getting body slammed to the dirt floor in martial combat, and some are working on weaponry. But at the very middle is where your eyes linger with a flash of familiarity—

A tussle of orange hair unhidden by the Fatui hood clashes with a giant of a man, weapons and Vision drawn at the sparring. The agent moves with quick succession, and you can see Pulcinella getting overpowered pretty quickly. As expected of his form, of course, but he still bit back with his delusion now equipped. Cheater, you scoffed to yourself, as the orange-head agent still managed his footing to strike consecutively at the bigger man.

You watched on for a little while longer as the orchestration of the match continued. Your observant eyes clearly noticing how the Harbinger could barely leave the area he had been standing on as he was barraged by blades from every direction, fully defensive. The match ended indefinitely when the Harbinger had noticed you, and quickly ended the match as an escape to his obvious downfall. "Halt," his voice reverberated from the sheer authority it brought and the agent stopped only a few centimeters from slicing the gloved hand in front of him, "We have a guest."

"Hardly," you scoffed at the end of your temporary entertainment as you sauntered over to the edge of the veranda, waving your hand dismissively at the training agents that had kneeled to greet you. With this they all went back to their training away from your side to give the privacy of a talk, except for one person. You can feel his intense stare even if it was hidden behind the standard protocol Fatui mask. You wondered if he had recognized you, "Pulcinella." You nodded.

"Columbina, it has been a while," he made a move to swipe the sweat at his forehead and you murmured an affirmation at his statement. It HAS been a while since you had lingered in the Palace, much less the country. As the head of the information brokers department of the Fatui, you're frequently found in missions beyond the headquarters where you soldier your subordinates in field missions. At this thought, you felt conscious at the fact that you still had your dancer outfit on.

To avert your embarrassment you shifted your attention to the agent with a tilt of your head. You swore you saw him gulp as subtly as he can. "This is Ajax," at the mention of his name, he had bowed his head, hand across his chest in greeting. "He has the potential."

Your mouth formed into an 'o' at the mention of the special word, eyes slightly widening at the intonation as you continued to look at Ajax. When he raised his head to meet yours once again, you found yourself averting in newfound fluster. "You mean to tell me..."

"Yes," the way you gingerly placed a hand to quietly hide the redness of your cheek had Ajax amused, the edge of his mask hiding the slight quirk of his lips. "The Assembly ceremony would be called upon soon."

act iii. 3 pm assembly

The 3 PM Assembly comes before the Dusk Convention which is not the current point of the information. You've only been in it once and it was in a different circumstance, yet your nerves still stayed the same, if not more perfectly hidden than the first occasion.

Ajax, now dubbed Tartaglia alias Childe, stood kneeling by the steps of Your Majesty's throne at the information of his ascension to the ranks of the Harbingers. He was the final piece to the puzzle, and his addition to the ranks meant multiple things. The start of the war against the divine, the Tsaritsa worded after Childe has received his Delusion from Pedrelino.

He almost seemed starstrucked- dazed after the chance meeting of finally seeing the great Tsaritsa face to face. You gulped as the words of the first continues upon mention of his new arc of training in honing his skills and exposure to the ways of the Harbingers. Next to you, in silent and slight comfort, Innamorata simply touched elbows with yours without sparing a glance as she stared straight on. You smiled at the gesture.

"During the phase of your training, you shall be commandered by the Harbinger that had come before you. And she will be your last test to show that you had earned your ascension," Childe followed the trail of Pedrelino's sight as he spun to watch the end of the line up of the Harbingers.

A figure layered with multiple chiffon and flowy cloths and yet seemingly underdressed in the winter nation steps on the red carpet of the throne room, a spear polearm manifesting as she twirls her hand to catch it mid-integration, the action suddenly producing a blast of icy wind enough to reach him and make him stumble.

Childe felt the tingle of excitement twitch his fingers at the apparent power difference. When they both finally made eye contact, masks off and irises laid bare, a petrifying glint of amusement lies within them both. The female offers a toothy grin as she lodges the spear's point into the ground, the metal clanging through the room in piercing reverbs.

"Meet Columbina, the 11th Harbinger, your last mentor."

act iv. counting crows

It had been a while, a very long while, since you had gone stationary in a nation. Much less Snezhnaya. While it is home the removal of your olden routine to put yourself in the shoes of a mentor had really been maddening you, more so with the inclusion of your line of work still in operation and a certain someone as your trainee until who knows how long.

Your brows furrowed as you watch the annoying caws of the crows overhead, four of the black birds making symphony as if to rejoice over your repeated victory. Underneath your thin shoe laid a gasping Childe who was just as irked at the piercing interaction.

You had just finished a 'spar' or what you could call an opportunity of ascension. When you explained to the newest addition as to how his true ascension works (which involves beating your mentor in a fair fight) he had been nothing but a thorn on your side with his repeated requests to spar. He was really, really adamant for a fight, something you had come to realize a day after he ascended to your care.

"Shoot them down," you ordered as the man finally got his grips enough to stand once again, his outfit filled with marks of dirt and obvious footprints from your numerous kicks to make him stay back. At the order he shoots you an amused grin, as if to say 'really?' but succumbed when you continued eye contact.

"Master Columbina," Childe started as his bow and arrow materialized. You knew full well just how inefficient he is when it comes to bows compared to other weapons, and you tasked him such challenge to use it more under your supervision, topping his oath to master it already. "Do you know what four crows mean? I'm not really adept with crowology but I'm pretty sure they have significance in numbers."

The first shot fires and kills one. The action had startled the other birds and they scrambled to flap away, but Childe was already materializing three new arrows to fire at once, this quirked your eyebrows in amusement. Something he noticed and smirked at, eyes still focused as he fires his shots- one missed. "Four crows may mean many things," you watched as he desperately chased the crow with a barrage of arrows and you had to stop yourself from laughing at his failed attempts, "It could mean birth of a male newborn, highly unlikely. Aaand, wealth and prosperity, and finally..."

His arrow finally pierced the poor vertebrate, an emphasized sigh of relief escaping his lips as he whips his head to look at you for affirmation that you had seen his victory. You gave an amused yet soft smile, his eyes twinkled in double-layered delight, "New beginnings."

act v. his siblings

Childe had a mentor once, who fuelled the flame of his reckless spirit through countless beatings and repeated dangerous encounters. When he was given an opportunity of once again being under an official mentor, with his newfound lust for battle, he was extremely ecstatic over the idea. But unfortunately, as he walks around with you through the familiar streets of Snezhnaya, it was not all fun and games as he'd expected it to be.

"You look so disappointed for someone who just received one million mora under their name." Appropriate to the occasion, you don now a traditional Snezhnayan winter attire yet with details that alerts everyone of the price of the genuine fur that's stitched on the edges of the lining. It was over the top since you had developed an immunity.

"I didn't expect being mentored to be a killing machine requires knowing about taxation and interest rates," was his childish grumble. Which received a frosty laugh from you. You had reiterated again and again just how powerful money is to a nation just as information, which Pedrelino and you operate in order. Thankfully Childe was ever so smart to pick things up easily (if it was viewed as a challenge) despite his early recruitment into the Fatui that surely would have hindered his education.

You opened your mouth to reiterate over the fact that perhaps his main concern would be in the issue of debt collection when a scream had resounded through the crowd, one of which belongs to someone Childe would recognize, you thought as you observed how he had perked up and looked around. When his eyes settled on a direction, you suddenly realized a crowd of five coming your way, you immediately took a step away as three younger figures latched onto him and started chatting him up like there's no tomorrow.

You hummed to yourself as you watched with hands intertwined behind your back. From what you can hear and gather, they were his siblings, all five crowds with one probably missing. One seemingly older to the 11th yet not donning the same striking orange hair spots you and offers a sorry smile at the inconvenience, observant, you thought as you flashed a polite smile too. He's probably Andrei, the one who's the same age as you, if you remembered his oversharing correctly.

"Big brother, please join us! We haven't seen you for so long, we're preparing a huge feast for mother and father's anniversary, it would be really good if you can attend!" Wow, these children are really good at bargaining. You can already see Childe's resolve crumbling the more they fluttered their eyelashes with such doe eyes.

Whether a plea for help or look for approval, his ocean orbs had found his way to you, begging that you be at least a considerate Harbinger to offer him this once in a lifetime break. You were about to open your mouth (to let him be, of course, you're not the heartless Harbinger everyone had generalized the ranks to be) when suddenly all six pair of eyes had fallen on you. It wasn't the same tantalizing or spine-wracking gaze the Tsaritsa holds, but the attention made you gulp either way.

"Hi," your voice reached a sudden meekness neither you nor Childe expected nor heard before.

And suddenly you found yourself around a table with plentiful dishes scattered all over it, your crowd of five (seven if you count you two) had turned to a staggering, solid 10 as the whole family had forced invited you into their abode to share the meal. Thanks to the nature of your work and training, your social skills commandered any suspicions or questions off easily, and you behaved just like a girlfriend meeting her boyfriend's family for the first time.

Childe watched as you clenched your jaw and offered a hooded, tilted glare when you met eyes. He gulped. That look looked very much like Scaramouche.

act vi. sixth nation

Childe barely knew the world beyond the frosted wasteland, past the outskirts of Snezhnaya. Yet from the stories his father had adopted to him ever since he was able to remember, he views the world outside with a sense of familiarity, longing and relieving satisfaction. It was such a pure look you felt like barfing from the intensity of the innocent aura it held in comparison to your line of work.

His eyes would then land on you where you once again don your master dancer outfit, yet unlike your homeland, this setting matched it better. The sun at Fontaine hits the golden sequins at a certain angle to make it glitter, and the thin white veil that hovers over the back of your hair flutters gently in the soft breeze that comes by. You'd look angelic if you wore more white, he bites back the words when you met his eyes.

His first look at your line of work and his first visitation outside of the nation. And into the land of entertainment. This was your main land of operation and the way you dwelled with the citizens brings about a sense of replicated home at the nostalgia. Many recognized you as a simple entertainer and many of the citizens look upon Childe with intrigue and wonder.

"Based on my network, this would be his last stop," you adjusted the bangles that holds on to the thin cloth that runs over your arm, "Again, we are here to observe and get information, not look for a fight."

"Yes, master." He grumbled flatly but his eyes were wide and wandering the marble walls and statues that littered the nation. He's distracted, just like a true child. "What's the name of that rogue vigilante again? The one that keeps busting down the doors of the Fatui headquarters everywhere."

You hum, hand wrapped around his wrist as you guide his distracted self through the crowd.

"Diluc Ragnvindr, and try to remember it this time please."

To be continued.

Accidentally posted so now it's a freakin two parter.

@zelos-simp @legionqueensav @moaa @dandelion-dreams @snackgod @rxsalinee

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #childe x Reader #genshin impact oneshots #exile.flower #sojourner special #followers special #diluc was here #god i hate myself #why did i accidentally post this #female reader

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polaroid15 · 3 years

Text

Guy in the Chair

Summary: Having a superhero for a best friend isn’t easy. But with the help of Mr. Stark, Ned things he might just be able to swing it.

Or, 5 times Ned was there for Peter and 1 time they were there for each other.

Read on Ao3 here.

-----

Ned hates funerals.

But mostly he hates seeing Peter in so much pain.

He sits beside his friend now, silent and relieved to be hearing him breathe evenly. The service for Ben had ended less than an hour ago. Overwhelmed, Peter had let Ned guide him away from the grave. They’re close enough to see May kneeling beside the freshly upturned dirt, her head in her hands, but far enough away that Peter no longer hyperventilates.

The cement bench they sit on is freezing. Snow comes up to their ankles. Both are shivering but too numb to move.

“Peter?”

Nothing.

Expecting it, Ned looks to his friend. Peter is curled in on himself, eyes open with frozen tear tracks running all the way down to his chin. He doesn’t give off any external cues that he’s heard Ned’s prompt, his sight unseeing.

“Peter?” he tries again, and when it still doesn’t elicit a response, he reaches out cold fingers to rest on Peter’s arm. Lightly, carefully, like he’s touching something fragile. “Hey man. You with me?”

Eyebrows creasing, Ned watches as a glimmer of coherence returns to Peter’s eyes. And with it, pain. Sharp and raw. Peter sucks in a long breath that rattles in his chest- like it’s the first real breath he’s taken in hours. It blows out in a puff of air that obscures the grave ahead of them.

“Peter.”

With some confusion, Peter swivels his head. He reaches a trembling hand to his face and uses his fingertips to feel the ice on his skin. “N-Ned?” he stammers. “I- when did we... I don’t remember coming over here.”

“It’s okay man. We came after the service.”

“May?”

“Over there. She’s okay.”

Breathing deep again, Peter’s eyes shine with new moisture. He buries his head deep into his elbow and leaves it there, his knuckles white where they clutch at his coat. “Sorry,” he murmurs. “God, I’m going crazy.”

Ned’s stomach hollows out. “Don’t be sorry.”

“I am,” Peter sniffs. “It’s cold.”

“It’s not that cold.”

Peter lifts his head and offers Ned a weak smile, though it falls fast. He hopes it isn’t permanent. “I just- I can’t believe he’s really gone.”

Ned bites his lip. He hadn’t known Peter when his parents had died, but he knows well enough from their sleepovers that he wakes up in cold sweats. He also knows that Peter has a tendency to blame himself for things that aren’t his fault, that he walks as if the world is on his shoulders.

And Peter had been there. In the alley. He had tried to keep Ben alive as he bled out.

And it didn't work. God, why couldn’t it have worked?

“Me either.”

Peter chokes on his next breath. Holds it. “What- what are we going to do without him?”

“Peter-”

“May can’t…I can’t-” Peter breaks off, gasping. “He can’t be gone.”

Words are impossible. Ned reaches deep within himself and whispers, “I’m sorry Peter. I’m so sorry.”

Peter’s lip wobbles. His eyes fill until there’s nowhere for the tears to go but out. At the same time they reach for each other, and Ned holds onto Peter as if it’s his sole purpose in this life. “It’s my fault Ned,” Peter sobs into his shoulder. “I couldn’t save him. It was me. He’s d-dead because of me.”

“That’s not true and you know it.”

“We had a fight,” Peter continues, delirious in his grief. “We had a fight and he died and I should’ve been able to save him.”

“It’s not your fault, man. What happened to Ben was terrible, but it wasn’t your fault, okay? He wouldn’t have wanted you to blame yourself. You know that.”

Peter tries to speak but is crying too hard for Ned to make out the words. So instead he pats Peter’s back and hugs him as hard as he can. He holds on. He whispers ‘he loved you’ and ‘it’s not your fault’ in between Peter’s sobs. He’s not sure how long it goes on for. He feels like a skipping record, his condolences an endless loop.

Eventually, Peter’s head lolls against Ned’s cheek. He stops crying. Stops everything. “I’m sorry,” he says. Then, more sure, “you’re a good friend, Ned. Thanks- thanks for being here with me. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Always,” Ned says. It’s a promise, a vow. “No matter what.”

And with every nerve in his body, he means it.

------

Peter is Spider-Man.

In a way, Ned still feels the aftershocks of the surprise. It hits him over and over again whenever he sees Peter with a limp or a bruise, or a cut that he can tell from it’s scar Peter had stitched himself.

But it’s nothing in comparison to Homecoming.

What’s supposed to be a fun night turns into a full out adrenaline high with life or death stakes. Instead of dancing, he fires Peter’s web shooters and works tirelessly in the computer lab. Being the guy in the chair.

And then there’s silence. An awful, consuming silence.

Ned expects Peter to come back to the party, and when he doesn’t, he tries calling. All thirteen calls go straight to voicemail.

He tries again now.

“Hey, it’s Peter. I promise I’m not ignoring you. Uh, leave a message. Thanks.”

Failing to ignore his worry, Ned drags his aching feet home. His mom is working a late shift at the hospital so he unlocks the door to his apartment and flicks on the lights, rubbing at his face in exhaustion.

He barely makes it two steps before he hears it.

A thud, like something heavy hitting hardwood.

Ned grabs the item closest to him, an umbrella propped up in the corner by the door and walks with caution towards his bedroom where the noise came from. Not for the first time that night, his heart beats viciously in his chest. Did Liz’s dad figure out he was helping Peter? Did the guy from the bus lot follow him home?

“Hello?” he calls, wincing when his voice shakes. He holds the umbrella a little tighter, the thin metal sticks digging into his palm. “Who- who’s there?”

When there’s no answer he pauses outside his door and cranes for clues. Hearing nothing, he braces himself before kicking open the door. The first thing he sees is his open window, and then-

“Oh my God! Peter!”

His friend is slumped under the glass, pale and covered in sweat and blood. Though his eyes are half lidded, he smiles at Ned when he sees him. “Why’re you holding an umbrella?” he slurs.

Ned dips his head to look at the makeshift weapon before tossing it to the side. His hands are shaking horribly. “I thought- I thought someone broke in!”

“Well technically,” Peter coughs, wincing, “I did break in.”

“It’s different,” Ned says, his legs like jelly as he stumbles forward. He kneels beside Peter and holds his hands out gingerly, sure whatever part of Peter he touches will shatter. “What the hell happened to you?”

Peter frowns. There’s too much blood. “I crashed Mr. Stark’s plane,” he says.

“What?”

“Liz’s dad was trying to steal it. I stopped him though.”

“You’re hurt.”

“I get hurt all the time.”

“Not like this,” Ned argues, and Peter’s eyes darken.

“I’m okay,” he whispers.

Grinding his nails into his knees, Ned shakes his head. Peter hasn’t moved since he found him, his arms curled tightly around his chest. “Why’d you come here?”

Gaping, Peter pales further. “Oh. I didn’t... I’m sorry-”

“No,” Ned says quickly. “Not like that. I mean, isn’t Mr. Stark supposed to help you with stuff like this?”

Peter closes his eyes, his face shadowed. “Mr. Stark doesn’t want to see me anymore. He ended things, remember?”

“But if he knew you were hurt-”

“Ned.”

“You’re bleeding really bad. I don’t know how to help you.”

Peter smiles again, but it’s sad. Broken, like the day of Ben’s funeral. It makes Ned feel sick. “Can I use your shower?”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Definitely. I’m covered in sand and ash and concrete-” Peter shudders, eyes becoming distant for a moment. “Please?”

“Right. Of course, man. Whatever you need.”

“Thanks.”

Peter tries to stand but needs Ned’s help in the end. They limp to the bathroom together and Ned helps Peter pull the top half of his suit off because Peter can’t lift his arms above his head. Peter is quiet during the process, but Ned doesn’t miss the way he sways and bites his lip.

When the suit is finally stripped away, Ned is sure he’ll have nightmares of for the rest of his life. Impossibly dark bruising covers nearly every inch of his friend’s skin, puncture marks still leaking blood and surrounded by countless smaller cuts and scrapes. He notices that Peter doesn’t look in the mirror. He doesn’t even look down, his hands shaking as he stares in determination at the opposite wall.

It’s only now that Ned truly understands the weight of what Peter is taking on. That having superpowers comes with a cost.

I just wanted to be like you, Peter had told Mr. Stark.

And I want you to be safe, thinks Ned, aching.

“Peter,” he whispers. He feels strangely detached from his body, as if he’s viewing the massacre through someone else’s eyes. “This- this is really bad. Like, hospital bad.”

Peter doesn’t argue, which Ned knows is a bad sign. Instead, his eyes glisten as if he’s about to cry. “I heal fast.”

“But-”

“I’m going to shower now.”

“Peter.”

“Ned please. I know you mean well, but- but I can’t think about it right now, okay? I just need to shower and then I’ll be okay.”

Ned stills. Swallows. Then, with great reluctance, he nods. “Okay.”

Looking weak with relief, Peter gives him a watery smile. When he speaks, his voice cracks. “Thanks man. I- I really owe you one.”

“It’s nothing. Guy in the chair, remember?”

“Thanks Ned.”

After their handshake, Ned leaves. It takes a minute of standing by the bathroom door and breathing intently through his nose to get his heart to calm. When it does, his pocket vibrates. He pulls out his phone, expecting it to be his mom.

Instead, it’s an unknown number.

With a sinking feeling in his stomach, Ned answers, making sure to move away from the bathroom. “Hello?”

There’s staticy silence. Then, heavy breathing. “Is this Peter’s friend?”

“Who’s this?”

“I’ll take that as a yes. This is Happy Hogan. You called me earlier.”

An unexpected surge of anger makes his ears hot. Hand tightening around the phone, Ned doesn’t try to keep the annoyance from his voice. “What do you want?”

Happy sighs. “Peter. Have you seen him?”

“Yes.”

“When?”

“Now. He’s at my apartment.”

More silence. Ned paces.

“How is he?” Happy asks finally.

“Why do you care?” Ned snaps. His heart is beating fast again. He can hear it in the base of his eardrums. “I tried to warn you earlier and you hung up on me.”

“Kid, listen-”

“He’s not okay,” Ned interrupts. “He’s hurt really bad. And he wouldn’t be if you had just listened.”

Ned expects deflection, but Happy’s words surprise him with their concern. “Wait. Peter’s hurt?”

It leaches his anger. “Yeah.”

“Can I talk to him?”

Ned opens his mouth to respond but pauses at the sound of a muffled conversation on the other end of the line. There’s a short struggle and then a new voice fills his ears. One that he’s more than familiar with.

“Ted, right?” Tony Stark asks. “Put Peter on the phone. Pronto. ASAP.”

“I- I-”

“He’s with you, isn’t he?” the man urges.

“I- yes.”

“Well then?”

Ned, despite how freaking cool it is to be talking to Iron Man, can’t help but feel a streak of protectiveness for his friend. “He didn’t call you for a reason.”

Tony is quiet, which Ned doesn’t expect. He plows on. “He thinks you don’t care. And maybe you don’t. But you can’t just choose when you want to help him. He’s here and he’s hurt, and I’m just about the least qualified person to be helping him. There’s blood on my floor and my mom is going to freak out-”

“Take a breath kid,” Tony interjects, his voice pinched. “You’re right. I’m sorry. Just let me talk to him.”

“He’s in the shower.”

“We’ll come pick him up, then. What’s your address?”

Ned closes his eyes, feeling two seconds away from a breakdown. He should be excited, but instead he just feels hollow. How did this become my life?

He rattles off his address and hangs up before Tony can respond. Then he sits on his floor beside Peter’s blood and cries silently into his hands.

-------

Ned tries to talk to Peter about Homecoming, but his friend just defects. Ned tries not to let it bother him.

But it does.

Physically, Peter recovers quickly. The ugly cuts and bruises disappear after the weekend, but the weariness that accompanies them never really leaves. The dark circles under Peter’s eyes get worse everyday and it’s harder to get a genuine smile out of his friend.

It all comes to a head on Wednesday.

They’re in the hall grabbing textbooks from their lockers between classes. Peter has been especially quiet today and Ned has done his best not to say anything about it. He’s reaching for his physics binder when it happens.

A loud crash, the sound of metal hitting the floor. Heart jumping, Ned spins to see a table flipped on its side beside a group of snickering kids. He exhales, shaking his head. “Man, that scared me.” He turns to Peter to laugh it off and freezes, insides turning to ice.

“Peter?”

His friend has lost all the color in his face, his eyes wide, unblinking, and staring out at nothing. When he doesn’t respond Ned takes a step forward to nudge his arm and Peter flinches back as if burned, hitting one of their classmates who scowls and pushes him off.

Peter barely manages to catch himself, his chest heaving like he’s just finished running a marathon. More careful this time, Ned grabs Peter’s elbow and steers him away from the hall and towards the bathroom. When they get there Peter detaches himself from Ned’s grip and stumbles until he hits the wall, sliding down to curl into a ball on the dirty tile. Now that it’s quieter, Ned can hear just how strained his breathing is.

“Peter?” he asks softly, squatting down to his level. “You’re scaring me man. What’s going on?”

Peter looks up at him helplessly, clutching at his chest as he pales further. “S-sorry. Just- ah. Gimme a minute.”

Ned opens his mouth to argue but closes it decidedly. The door to the bathroom swings open behind them and Ned shoos the freshman who appears away with his hands.

Peter’s upbeat ringtone cuts through the tension. Obviously not coordinated enough to answer, Ned helps Peter pull it out of his pocket and stills at the contact.

“It’s Mr. Stark,” Ned says in awe. “What- what do I do?”

“Don’ answer it-”

But his thumb is already on the green. He gives Peter a panicked look of apology before yanking the device up to his ear. “Hello?”

“Ted? Why do you have Peter’s phone?”

“It’s Ned. And he- he can’t really talk right now.”

Tony curses. “Is he with you? His watch sent me a spike in his vitals. Don’t tell me he’s actively bleeding out.”

Peter must hear what he’s saying because he groans, his breathing becoming increasingly laboured. He sticks his head between his knees and digs his knuckles into the tile until tiny cracks appear under the pressure.

“He’s not bleeding out,” Ned assures. “He’s- well, I don’t really know what’s happening. He said he can’t breathe.”

“Damn it. Damn it. Okay. He’s having a panic attack. Put me on speaker.”

“But-”

“Now, Ned!”

Gulping, Ned obliges. He holds out the phone between himself and Peter like some sort of offering and feels some distant part of him relax as Tony takes control.

“Pete?” Tony asks, his voice sharp and clear. “Focus on my voice kiddo. Alright? Imagine that I’m there with you.”

“Mr. St-Stark-’

“Shh, kiddo. It’s okay. I’m going to help you breathe. I need you to tell me five things you can see. Can you do that?”

Eyes gaining some clarity, Ned watches them wander. “Uh, Ned. The phone. The- the sinks. A mirror. And- and, uh. Paper towel.”

“Bathroom. Classy. Alright, now four things you can touch.”

“Ground. Wall. C-clothes. Backpack.”

“Good, kiddo. You’re doing so well. Keep breathing. Three things you can hear?”

“You. Ned. Kids outside.”

With every answer, the tension in Tony’s own voice seems to ease. For some reason, it softens some of the resentment Ned’s been holding against the man ever since the ferry incident. He continues with urgency. “Two things you can smell?”

“Soap. Sweat.”

“Good. And one thing you can taste?”

Peter exhales, long and slow. He closes his eyes. “Spearmint.”

“That’s great,” Tony encourages. “Feeling any better?”

At this, Peter’s face scrunches up as if he’s about to start crying. Instead, he relaxes more fully against the wall and reaches up to wipe his eyes. “Yeah, Mr. Stark. That’s better. I’m really sorry-”

“Nope,” Tony interrupts. “Gonna stop you right there kid. We’ll talk in person. I can be there in twenty.”

“What?” Peter stalls, eyebrows drawing together. “I have class.”

“Not anymore. See you soon. Ned, can I talk to you real quick?”

Another shot of adrenaline spiking through him, Ned fumbles with the phone until it’s off speaker and pushes it up against his face, though he knows full well Peter will still be able to hear. “Yeah Mr. Stark?”

A short pause. “Has this happened before?”

“Not at school.”

“And not at school?”

Peter looks down at his shoes. Ned frowns. “I don’t know.”

Tony sighs. “Thanks for watching out for him. Do you know what triggered it?”

“Um. A table got flipped over. It was really loud.”

“Yeah, that’ll do it. Damn it. Can you stay with him until I get there? Give him water and make sure he doesn’t fall asleep. You got that?”

“Yeah. Yes. Of course.”

He doesn’t get a response, the line going dead. He pulls it away in disbelief and sets it on the floor. Peter smirks weakly at him from where he’s slumped against the wall. “It’s okay,” he mumbles. “He hangs up on everyone.”

------

For a while, it gets better.

“Ned! Oh my God- MJ said yes! I’m freaking out man!”

Stomach dropping with excitement, Ned spins a full 360 in his room, hands reaching up to his hair. “No freaking way! I told you!”

Peter’s excited rambling continues through his phone. It makes Ned’s heart soar. “What do I do? Where do I take her? The movies? The park?”

“Swinging through New York,” Ned offers with a smile, and Peter laughs.

“No, seriously. It needs to be perfect.”

“Laser tag?”

“Don’t forget that I’m broke, man.”

“How about the Pride Parade? That’s happening this weekend. Seems like her kind of thing.”

Peter pauses, warmth filling the other end of the line. “That’s perfect! God, you’re a genius. Thanks man!”

“You owe me,” he teases.

“I so do. We still on for the death star 2.0 tonight?”

“Wise is Yoda the most?”

Peter laughs again. It’s nice. “Right. See you soon.”

“See you.”

When Ned hangs up, tears bite at his eyes.

He doesn’t remember the last time he’s heard Peter so happy.

--------

Of course, it doesn’t last long.

Ned gets the text during band practice.

It’s from Peter and the empty seat next to him feels more pronounced. He almost ignores it, feeling, despite reason, a deep bitterness for his loneliness. But the message is short.

Help.

Ned nearly tilts out of his chair, his mouth adopting a strange metallic quality and his stomach dropping down to his toes. Before he can even get his shaking hands to cooperate another message lights his screen.

Bleachers.

Ned stands before he can process how strange it must look. His teacher, Miss Gregerson, raises her pencil thin eyebrows. “Ned? What is it?”

“Bathroom,” he blurts, and parts the music stands blocking his exit before she can say another word. He hears laughter follow him but can’t find it within himself to care, his heart beating loud in his ears as he jogs through the empty hallways. Peter needs you. Something is wrong.

He had thought having a best friend for a superhero would be cool. But the longer the time stretches, the more Ned realizes how much sleep he’s been losing over his friend’s safety.

Please don’t be dying.

Ned bursts through the back doors and trips his way down the hill to the track. The yard is empty, filtered with pink and orange light from the sinking sun. It’s warm and the air is still, but the deep sense of foreboding doesn’t leave him.

“Peter?” he calls, even though the bleachers are distant and his throat is closing with fear. He walks faster and it’s only when his feet hit the red dirt of the track that he sees Peter’s hunched form. He’s sitting on the lowest step of the bleacher, his face pinched and the edges of his suit showing from his open backpack. He’s pale and covered in sweat, and when he sees Ned, he sags, his eyes fluttering with what can only be a mixture of relief and exhaustion.

“Peter,” Ned repeats, skidding to his friend’s side. His hands hover, unsure again what to do or how to help. Assess the problem, his mind supplies. Find out what’s hurt.

It doesn’t take long. He follows Peter’s tense posture to his hand, which is clamped down hard over his side. His skin is painted red underneath, the material of his dark shirt shining in the fading light. There’s a cut on his temple that bleeds too, and Ned notices how hard Peter is trying to concentrate on his form, his eyes seeming incapable of adjusting.

“Hey man,” he croaks.

“Oh my God,” Ned breathes. His whole body is shaking now. Weak. Because he’s not equipped for this. “What happened?”

Peter struggles to process his question, blinking heavy and biting hard on his bottom lip. Then he swallows, sways, and musters a weak smile. “Stabbed. Long knife.”

When Peter falls to the side, Ned has to lunge to catch him, supporting his entire weight against his body. The new position allows him to see the blood that’s been pooling on the metal where Peter’s been sitting. A distant part of his brain wonders if the stain it’ll leave will be permanent.

“You need to go to a hospital,” Ned says. Peter’s head is pressed hard into his rib cage. They’re both shaking, their breaths uneven and loud.

“No,” Peter says. “You can help.”

“I can’t.”

“Please.”

It’s desperate. More desperate than Ned’s ever heard his friend. Even after Homecoming. “Peter-” he starts, but there’s no words to convey the weight in his chest.

“We can fix this,” Peter says. “We can fix it.”

“You’re bleeding too much.”

“I just need some help.” Peter lifts himself away with Ned with trembling arms. He’s even more pale, his skin close to translucent. He struggles with the side pocket on his backpack before revealing a small sewing kit. He transfers it into Ned’s palm where it leaves a thick smudge of red. He stares at it for a long time and won’t realize until much later that he’s in shock.

“What?” he stutters, transfixed by how much blood is on the sewing kit.

“My hands... my hands are shaking too much to thread the needle.”

Ned stares. He’s numb.

“Ned?” Peter prompts. He reaches out a hand and bracelets Ned’s wrist in his blood. “Can you- can you thread the needle for me?” he pauses, and almost sheepishly, he smiles. “I need my guy in the chair.”

It’s like a damn breaking. Ned snaps back into awareness, sad, angry, and unable to fully comprehend why. Guy in the chair.

“I’ll help you,” he says, “but not in the way you want.”

Before Peter can protest, Ned pulls out his phone. He dials in the number and tries to ignore the way Peter’s chest falls, or how a tear cuts a line through the grime on his face.

“Mr. Stark?” he asks when the line connects. “I need your help.”

In the background, Ned can already hear the mechanical thrum of what can only be a suit being activated. Mr. Stark doesn’t question it. He doesn’t waste time. “I’ll be there in three minutes,” he says, and then the line disconnects.

Peter blinks slow. His lip trembles. “I wish you didn’t do that,” he says.

And then he collapses.

Ned cries out as he catches him. His shirt will be ruined. Peter’s head lolls sickeningly against his neck, his arms going limp at his sides. Acting on instinct alone, Ned reaches to put pressure over the still bleeding wound in Peter’s side. It’s warm and he gags. His eyes burn with tears.

“P-Peter?” he cries, but Peter remains still against him. He wonders if this is how Peter had felt when Ben had died, and for the first time understands the guilt Peter had pinned on himself. “Wake up, man. Mr. Stark is coming. He’s going to- he’s going to help.”

But Peter doesn’t wake up. He doesn’t even twitch until Mr. Stark hits the dirt hard beside them, his suit retracting from his face to reveal a look of complete terror. It catches Ned off guard, but not as much as the way Mr. Stark gently maneuvers Peter out of Ned’s arms and into his own lap.

“Hey Underoos,” Mr. Stark says. His voice is soft but urgent. He taps on Peter’s face and brushes back his hair. “This isn’t a good look, kiddo.”

Ned is frozen. Stuck. He feels the tacky wetness of blood on his hands and is unable to look at them.

“Pete,” Mr. Stark continues, louder this time. “Wake up. That’s an order.”

Ned holds his breath as Peter’s eyes open to slits. They’re hazy, confused, but his lips manage to quirk up into a smile that betrays the pain in his eyes. “Tony,” he whispers.

Mr. Stark sags and Ned can practically see the relief leak out of him. He plays with Peter’s hair, his free hand pressed down hard against the worst of the bleeding. “You never do things halfway, do you kid?” he asks with a smile that even Ned can tell is for Peter’s benefit alone. “If it weren’t for Ned, you’d be six feet under right about now.”

Peter’s eyes drift to find Ned. His smile widens when they connect. “He’s my guy in the chair,” he slurs.

Tony hugs Peter tighter and Ned is struck just how paternal the hero is acting. Like Peter is the most important thing in the world. A lot has changed since Homecoming, he realizes. “Let’s get you some help, buddy. You up for a flight?”

But Peter doesn’t seem to hear. His eyes are still glued to Ned. He doesn’t speak, but Ned understands anyway.

Tony stands, bringing Peter up with him, and Peter goes limp once more. Ned doesn’t miss the way Tony’s breath hitches or the urgency in his movements. He stops before he takes off, regarding Ned with a look of gratitude. “Happy is on his way to pick you up. Wait here for him, okay?”

Ned can only nod, and when they both disappear into the air, he sinks to the ground. It takes hours for the blood on his hands to wash off, and when he finally makes it to Peter’s room in medbay, he finds Tony Stark with his head pillowed on Peter’s thigh. They’re both sleeping, their arms linked.

And for the first time, it all makes sense.

------

It’s been two weeks since the blip’s reversal.

They’re back at school. Ned shuffles awkwardly at his locker, uncomfortable, like his skin is on too tight. Graduation pictures of his classmates hang on the wall.

Five years.

A deep, unrelenting sadness pulls at his heart. He should be happy to be back, but he’s not. Not really. His little sister, who what seems like yesterday was half his height, now reaches his chin. The calendar in his room is useless.

So much time.

Across the hall, he sees Peter. It calms the sharp edges of his anxiety and as if mirroring his own relief, he sees his friend’s shoulders lose their tension. Ned begins walking towards him and Peter drifts too. It’s slow, cautious, like everything will vaporize in a moment if they move too fast.

But at last, they meet. And in the middle of the hall, surrounded by faces Ned no longer recognizes, they hug. Peter’s grip is strong. Almost bruising. It reminds Ned of Ben’s funeral and the heaviness in his chest doubles.

Peter sniffs. He trembles like he’s cold.

“Are you okay?” Ned whispers in his ear.

Peter is quiet. Ned can hear his measured breathing, an exercise taught to him by Mr. Stark shortly after the incident in the school bathroom.

Mr. Stark, who had died to save them all.

“Not yet,” Peter says after some time. They still haven’t pulled apart. “I just- I really miss him, Ned.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

Peter’s fingers curl into his hoodie. People are staring at them, and for the first time in his life, Ned can’t bring himself to care.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” Peter says, and Ned feels his eyes sting.

Five long years.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you either.”

Finally, Peter pulls away. He wipes his sleeve across his cheekbones and takes in a rattling breath. “Wanna help me with my web shooters after school? May’s making lasagna. Pepper and Morgan are coming over, too.”

Ned smiles. Because after all the injuries he’s seen Peter sustain over the years, he’s seen them all heal too.

He’ll heal.

They both will.

“That sounds great, man.”

After a particularly sloppy handshakes, they walk to class with their shoulders bumping.

And though it may just be a trick of the light, Ned swears he sees Mr. Stark standing in the crowd of students, a wide smile on his face as he looks at them.

And just like Ben, Ned knows that Peter has Tony forever.

#spider man #peter parker #tony stark #ned leeds #irondad fic #peter & ned #hurt/comfort #hurt peter parker #peter parker whump #protective ned leeds #protective tony stark

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