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You're Not Here and Everything Hurts - Part Three

Eda ignored the pounding beat and strobe lights as she pushed through the weekend crowd.

For the past two weeks, she found herself unable to sleep more than two hours at a time and even then; nightmares plagued her. She needed something, anything, to feel something other than pain, or fear, or grief.

She wanted the vivid dream back, the weight of her daughter in her arms, the smell of cherries, Serkan’s warm hand against her skin, the sound of his voice, the love in his eyes.

She needed it like she needed him to not be dead.

She found herself back at the bar. She scanned the crowd, searching.

She spotted him at the end of the bar. He sat talking to another man. She paid no attention to his companion as she strode forward. “I need a minute.”

The man looked at her, a smirk spreading across his lips. “I remember you,”

“I didn’t catch your name last time.” Eda told him.

“Doruk.” He answered. “And you are..”

“Eda,” Eda answered. “Can we talk privately?”

Doruk flashed the other man a smile. “Excuse us.”

He placed his hand on Eda’s lower back and led her to a dark corner of the club.

Eda did not like the familiar touch, but endured it until they stopped, shaking his hand away. “I need more of what you gave me.”

“I knew you would be back,” Doruk said, moving closer, crowding her. “The first time was free, this time is not.”

“Name the price,” Eda said, reaching for her purse.

Doruk touched her shoulder, stopping her. “Well, there is more than one way to pay me.” His hand trailed slowly down her arm.

Eda's face filled with disgust, and she pushed his hand away. “You will never get that kind of payment from me. I can pay you cash or I can take my business elsewhere.”

Doruk watched Eda carefully and then, with a smirk, he said. “You be surprised how desperate a person can become for their next hit when they have nothing to lose.”

“That won’t be me.” Eda said firmly. “It’s my money, or it’s nothing at all.”

Doruk nodded. “Okay.” he produced a small bag of pills. “80 bucks.”

Eda quickly pulled out the cash and handed it over to him, and snatched the bag of pills from him.

She pushed past him, not wanting to talk to him longer than she had to. She made it a few steps before Doruk was gripping her arm and spinning her back around.

He steps close to her. Too close for Eda’s liking, he leaned forward to whisper in her ear. “Be careful how many you take. I’m not responsible if you end up putting yourself in a coma, or worse.”

Eda jerked her arm out of his grasp, shooting him a glare. “It’s not your concern.”

Eda walked back out of the bar. Returning to her car, she waited until she got home, before opening the bag, popping one pill and swallowing it.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Eda expected to fall asleep like before but she couldn’t and God, she tried cause she wanted to see him but it wasn’t working.

She grew frustrated. She wanted to scream and yell.

Blowing out a slow breath, she walked outside.

Aydan and Seyfi had been by earlier, but she was able to get rid of them for now, promising to join Aydan for dinner.

Eda made her way to the horses. Serkan had promised to take her riding once he was better, but it never happened.

She approached one of the horses and slowly pet the horse.

She could hear barking and saw Sirius running toward her, only stopping her when he reaches her.

“He loves you more than he loves me,”

Eda snapped back around, her eyes filling with tears at the sight of Serkan.

He stood inside the horse stall, dark gray t-shirt clinging to his form as he used a brush to groom the horse.

Eda let out an elated laugh. “He’s a good judge of character.”

Serkan grinned over at her. “I won’t argue there.”

Eda opened the stall door and threw her arms around him.

Serkan laughed. “Easy Eda, don’t spook the horse.”

Eda grabbed his hand, marveling at how real this felt.

She didn’t know at what point she fell asleep and she didn’t care. Serkan was with her. She could hear him, talk to him, feel him, touch him, and that was all that mattered.

Eda pulled Serkan out of the horse stall and tugged him against her. “Kiss me.”

Serkan cupped her face in his hands, his eyes full of love. “I’ll never get tired of hearing that.”

Eda closed her eyes as his lips touched hers, savoring the moment, every slide of his lips, the familiar pressure.

Serkan’s hands glided down her body to grip her hips, pulling her against him as Eda grip his shirt in her hands, arching into him.

The kiss deepened with intensity. Eda slid her hand up into Serkan’s hair, nails scratching along his scalp.

Serkan pulled back with a low groan. “I love it when you do that.”

“Don’t stop kissing me.” Eda breathed out, her chest rising and falling. “Don’t stop touching me.”

As long as he was kissing her and touching her, he couldn’t disappear on her again. She could keep him with her.

“Never,” Serkan promised. He wrapped himself completely around her, his lips skimming down the column of her throat, and his arms wrapping around her completely, clinging to her.

Eda enjoyed every second of it, running her hands through his hair and down his back.

“Eda!”

Eda turned her head sharply and saw Seyfi turn the corner, approaching her quickly.

She spun back to Serkan, but he was gone. Her heart dropped to the pit of her stomach and she blinked back tears.

“Miss Eda, there you are!”

Eda took a deep breath, pushing down her emotions before turning to Seyfi, Sirius barking at him. “What is it?”

“It’s time for dinner. Aydan wanted me to remind you in case you’ve forgotten.”

“Right,” said Eda. “I’m coming. I was just walking with Sirius.”

Seyfi looked at Sirius. “He never leaves your side anymore.”

“We’re all we got.” Eda replied, looking sadly down at Sirius.

Seyfi wanted to argue that wasn’t true, but Eda had already started walking with Sirius trailing after her.

Eda felt numb as she walked, trying to make sense of seeing Serkan again. She had thought she must’ve of been dreaming again, but if she never went to sleep, how was she able to see him, touch him, feel him?

She had thought the drug gave her the ability to dream of Serkan and not have nightmares, but this was different. She was seeing him awake.

She heard of drugs that cause hallucinations, but nothing like this.

It felt so real, like he was still here with her. Like she didn’t lose him.

If it works even when she was awake, she could still have a version of Serkan with her even though he was gone. All she had to do was keep taking the pill, and it would be as if she had never lost him.

“Eda,” Aydan stood and gathered Eda in her arms, hugging her tightly. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” Eda lied.

“That’s good.” Aydan released her and placed her hand affectionately against Eda’s cheek. “I know it’s hard, but the best we can do is take it day by day.”

Their best would never be good enough. Nothing about this life was worth this pain. The words were on the tip of her tongue, but she bit them back, not wanting to bring Aydan down with her in her suffering.

Eda honestly didn’t understand how Aydan was coping so well.

She was barely hanging in there.

Aydan took a seat. “I had Seyfi make some of your favorites.”

Eda looked at the plates of fried food, and her heart ached. She could hear Serkan telling her she needed to eat more healthily.

“This is going to be the death of you one day.”

Eda’s head snapped up, and Serkan, to her surprise, was seated to her left.

She felt a pressure on her leg and looked down to see his hand resting there.

Slowly, shakily, she placed her hand over his, locking their fingers together.

The relief and happiness that hit her at the feel of his warm skin beneath hers, the feel of his strong hands, was palpable.

“Is everything alright?”

Eda's head swiveled to look back at Aydan, who was looking at her strangely.

Eda looked over at Seyfi, and he was watching her carefully as he dished food out on plates.

Eda tensed, her hand squeezing around Serkan’s. She knew she couldn’t ask them if they could see Serkan, too. They would think she was crazy, but she could feel him next to her and it was enough.

“Everything’s fine. I’m just a little out of it. I haven’t been sleeping well.” It wasn’t a complete lie. She hadn’t been sleeping well.

Aydan smiled. “It will get better and if you ever just want to talk, I’m here.”

Eda forced a smile in return. “I know, and I appreciate it. Thank you.”

Eda ate small portions of her meal as Aydan chatted about her social club and how staying busy has helped with her grief.

Eda did her best not to draw attention to herself. It was a little difficult with Serkan whispering affectionate words in her ear, his fingers trailing down her arm, his lips skimming down her throat as he leaned into her.

When she finished her meal, she made a quick exit and as soon as she was out of Aydan and Seyfi's sight; she reached for Serkan’s hand.

“Walk with me,” she murmured, leaning her head on his shoulder.

Serkan wraps his arm around her, tucking her into his body. “Anything you want.”

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Eda woke up to the morning light streaming in through the window. She threw her arm out searching for Serkan.

Last night after walking with Serkan, they had come back here and Serkan held her as she went to sleep and it was the most peaceful she felt since she lost him.

Waking up and not having him there was painful. Instant tears came to her eyes, her heart pounded in her chest, her breaths coming quickly.

She felt a panic attack coming on, but she didn’t care.

She reached for her bag on the table and riffled through it until she came across the little bag she was looking for. She quickly popped one of the little pale blue pills in her mouth, dry swallowing and laid back down, her eyes shut tightly, praying it wouldn’t take long for the pill to kick in.

She couldn’t bring herself to open her eyes until she felt a hand on her cheek.

Serkan hovered above her, leaned up on his elbow, his thumb brushing across her wet cheek. “Don’t cry, baby.”

“I hate it when you leave,” Eda whispered, tugging at him until he was on top of her, his arms bracketing her in, holding his weight up off her.

“I’m here now.” Serkan began kissing her tears away and Eda wrapped her arms around him tightly, wishing he would stay forever. Wishing this was real and not something that was induced by a drug.

“Don’t leave, please. I need you.” Eda breathed shakily. “I can’t breathe without you. When you're gone, it’s all too much and I can’t.”

“Shh..” Serkan shushed her gently. “Whenever you need me, I will be right here.” he pressed a kiss over her heart and Eda tightened her arms around him, holding him tightly to her.

She was never going to let go. She couldn’t.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Eda glared at the phone on the table.

“You should get that.”

Eda leaned her head back against Serkan’s chest, pulling his arms tighter around her. “I don’t want to. It’s just Engin and Piril. They want me to take up your position in the company.”

“You don’t think you can do it?” Serkan questioned.

“I don’t want to be there if you’re not.” Eda answered. “You’re supposed to be there. We work best when we’re working together.”

“I will be there with you every step of the way. Even if I can't affect anything directly you can.” Serkan encouraged. “You can do this. I want you to. You have so much potential to live up to, and I believe in you.”

Eda turned in his arms, cupping his face. “Promise you’ll be with me?”

“Every step of the way.” Serkan vowed.

Eda leaned forward, pressing her lips tenderly to his in a brief kiss. She leaned her forehead against his. “Ok, as long as you're with me.”

The phone started ringing again, and Eda reached for it with a sign. “Hello Engin,” she answered.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Engin was stunned when Eda had finally agreed to take up Serkan’s position, but he was happy.

He knew it would be good for the company and good for her, but he didn’t expect the turn around from Eda that he was seeing in the weeks since she came back to the company.

It had been almost two months since Serkan died and while Eda had her moments, where she appeared to be looking at someone that wasn’t there or talking to herself, she was doing great.

Her designs were a hit with the clients. She was bringing in bigger projects; she was smiling and laughing.

She looked healthy mostly, except for the obvious weight loss and the dark circles beneath her eyes, both could be explained away with stress and exhaustion.

She was handling the press with professionalism and finesse even when they were less than professional, asking questions about Serkan’s late passing and the fortune she gained when he passed.

It thrilled Piril that the company was thriving, but she worried Eda was putting up a front so no one could see how much pain she was truly in.

Melo knew something was wrong, she told Ayfer and Ceren as much. She wanted Eda to be doing well, but she felt in her heart something was off with her best friend.

Something that went beyond grief.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Eda looked over her designs alone in Serkan’s office.

“What do you think?” She asked.

Eda waited for Serkan to answer, and when none came, she frowned.

She looked over her shoulder, expected Serkan to be leaning over her to inspect her work, but he wasn’t there.

Her heart pounded in her chest, and she scrambled for her purse, finding the little bag she kept in her inside zipper, but the bag was empty.

Eda shoved her chair back, and yanked her purse up on her shoulder, in her haste she forgot her phone on the table and left.

She had to leave; she needed Serkan with her; she needed more pills.

Melo watched Eda leave. She looked at the time and figured Eda was leaving to have lunch with Ayfer.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Eda pulled outside the club. A part of her knew it was too early in the day to be open, but she had no other way of finding Doruk.

She exited her car and walked up to the door, and tried to pull it open. It wouldn’t budge with a curse. She began pacing.

She had gotten so used to having Serkan right there, every minute or every day, seeing him and their daughter in her dreams, seeing Serkan when she was awake and now she couldn’t.

It was terrifying.

How long would she have to go without seeing him?

She searched through her bag in search of her phone, returning quickly to her car. She searched for it but it wasn’t there either.

She must’ve left it at Art Life.

“Damn it.” Eda slammed her hand against the dash.

She looked at the time on the radio. It was a little after two. It would be hours before the club opened up and even longer before Doruk would make an appearance.

She would just have to wait it out.

She counted down from ten to slow her racing heart.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Ayfer frowned as she received Eda’s voice mail again.

Eda had been doing so well recently. Ayfer believed her niece was really turning the corner on her grief.

Eda was joining her a few times a week, she came over for dinner. She talked to her about her day; her projects at Art Life.

The only subject Eda wouldn’t talk about was Serkan and her miscarriage.

Ayfer respected her wishes, not wanting to push Eda back into a downward spiral.

However, this was the first time in weeks Eda wasn’t answering her cars. It worried her.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Melo walked into Serkan’s office after getting off the phone with Ayfer. She hoped to find a clue to where Eda went.

She saw Eda’s phone sitting next to a picture of Serkan and saw all the miss calls from Ayfer, two from Aydan and one from herself and a few business calls.

No wonder she didn’t pick up. She left her phone behind.

Melo slipped the phone into her purse, and shuffled through Eda’s designs and notes on the desk in search of a hint of where Eda could have gone.

Not finding anything. She shook her head.

She would just have to go out and look for her.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Eda paced outside the club, her skin covered in a light sheen of sweat, her breaths uneven as her heart pounded against her ribcage.

Eda ignored the looks she got from passerby’s and glared at anyone who approached her.

She just had a few more hours to wait. She could do this. She had to do this.

The sun had started to set; the sky changing from orange hues to pink.

“Eda!”

Eda whirled around to find Melo running toward her. She was barely able to brace herself before Melo was throwing her arms around her, holding to her tightly.

“What are you doing here?” Eda pushed Melo back, disentangling herself from her friend.

“What am I doing here? I’ve been looking everywhere for you, Eda! Do you have any idea how worried Ayfer and I have been? How worried everyone has been? No one has seen or heard from you in hours.”

“I forgot my phone.” Eda shrugged. “I’m fine.”

“You are not fine.” Melo argued, looking her friend over. “You don’t look well at all. Why are you here, Eda?”

“I needed some air, and I just got a little lost.” Eda lied.

“You’re not being honest, Eda,” Melo said. She knew Eda like she knew her own mind. “What’s wrong, Eda?”

“What’s wrong?” Eda repeated, anger rising inside of her. She didn’t need Melo telling her when she was being less than honest. She didn’t need Melo tracking her every move, and she certainly didn’t need Melo asking her stupid questions. “Are you fucking kidding me right now, Melo?!”

Melo stumbled back, having her friend’s anger directed at her, throwing her off.

“Everything is wrong! Serkan is dead! Our baby is dead! I am running his company, trying to be everything he was, trying to breathe when I am suffocating!” Eda snapped. “I am drowning here and I am all alone and nothing, nothing is ever going to be good again and all you and everyone else expect me to keep going, to keep living, to move on but I don’t fucking want to. I don’t want any of this!”

Melo watched, her heart hurting for her friend as her emotions overwhelmed her.

“I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to keep going on. I just want to see him, be with him. I want Serkan and I can’t reach him because he’s gone somewhere I can’t.” The tears came freely, Eda’s legs buckling beneath her. “God, I can’t breathe, Melo! I don’t want to be here! I don’t want to live this life without him.”

Melo shook her head, a cry falling from her lips as she sank down in front of Eda, pulling her sobbing friend into her arms and rocking her. “I’m so sorry, Eda, I am so sorry. I wish I can make this easier for you, but I can’t. You may feel you are alone, but you’re not. I am right here with you.”

“I need Serkan. I need him to breathe, to live, to be happy.” Eda grasps tightly to Melo, needing something to ground her.

“I know, I know. Listen to me, Eda, I can’t imagine how hard this is but you’re going to pull through this.” Melo insisted. “If anyone can, it’s you. You’re the strongest person I know. You can survive this and you will. I believe that and I need you to believe it, too.”

“I can’t.” Eda shook her head. “I can’t.”

“You will.” Melo held her tighter. “I promise, just give yourself more time.”

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

“She can’t keep going on like this.” Ayfer paced the floor in front of Melo, Ceren, Aydan and Seyfi.

“We can’t force her to get better. This takes time.” Aydan said. “Suffering a loss like this. It’s hard to recover. It was years before I felt strong enough to even leave the bed when I lost Serkan’s brother. Even now there are days I can’t imagine getting through the day with Serkan gone.”

“Aydan’s right,” Ceren interjected. “We can’t tell Eda how to grieve. All we can do is support her through this difficult time.”

Ayfer shook her head. “She’s falling apart and I feel helpless to do anything.”

“We all do,” Melo said. “But pushing her is only going to push her away and we don’t want that.”

“We should let her come to us when she is ready,” Seyfi interjected. “Ultimately, we have to let Eda go through her grief and her anger. We can be here for her and make sure she knows she isn’t alone, and I think that’s all we can do until she wants to lean on us.”

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Eda listened as they talked about her and fought the urge to burst into the room and demand they stop talking about her.

What she was going through was her business and no one else’s, and if they didn’t like how she was coping, then they could get the fuck out of her life.

But she had more important things to do than listen to them argue about her grief processing. Using the opportunity of their distraction, Eda snuck out of the house.

It was ridiculous that she had to go to such lengths, but they were insisting on watching her like she was a ticking time bomb.

It was frustrating.

She got behind the wheel of Serkan’s car and pulled out of the driveway with only one destination in mind.

When she arrived at the club, it was bustling with activity. So crowded, she was having trouble maneuvering around the patrons in search of Doruk.

Her skin felt hot to the touch, and she felt like she was going to jump out of her own skin. Her heart wouldn’t stop racing and her breaths came quickly.

Eda knew the symptoms she was exhibiting were that of an addict, but she didn’t care. If this was the only way she could be with Serkan, then she would take it.

Eda felt like screaming when she couldn’t find Doruk.

This could not be happening.

She was just about to go up to the bar and demand Burak tell her where she can find Doruk when she felt a pair of hands land on her hips, and someone’s hot breath beating down on her neck.

“Looking for someone?”

Eda whirled around to find Doruk hovering over her with an amused smirk.

“I need more.” Eda didn’t beat around the bush.

Doruk’s smirk became something else. “How bad do you need it?”

Eda glared. “Don’t play games, Doruk?”

Doruk stepped into her space, his arm going around her waist.

“What are you doing?” Eda tried to push him back, just feeling his body pressing against her made her skin crawl.

“I’ve been under surveillance lately. Just being careful. Go along with it.” He gripped tightly to her hip and started to dance slowly.

Eda hated it. She could feel every slide of his body against her and it felt wrong, unnatural. No one but Serkan was supposed to touch her.

Serkan was the only one she ever wanted to touch her.

“How long has it been since you ran out?” Doruk had his face buried in her neck.

His lips skimmed across the skin of her throat, it caused a shiver of disgust to roll down her back.

Doruk chuckled, taking her shiver for something else, and pulled her tighter against him.

“This afternoon.” Eda answered.

Doruk pulled back to stare at her. “Are you taking this every time it begins to wear off?”

“Yes,” Eda answered, relieved to no longer have him so close to her neck.

Doruk chuckled. “No wonder you're this hooked already. It’s only been a few weeks. Damn girl, when you get addicted you don’t do anything by half, do you?”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Eda glared up at him, her hands pushing at his chest, trying to create some distance.

“It means you're a hot mess.” Doruk’s hand skimmed over her body. “I’ll give you what you need, baby,” his lips skimmed her ear. “I’ll give you enough to last you a month, but you have to do something for me.”

“No,” Eda's answer was immediate.

Doruk’s hands tightened on her. “You don’t even know I want from you.”

“Yes, I do.” Eda ground out through her teeth. He had been grinding against her, and she could feel every inch of him pressing against her. It was repulsive.

“And you’re saying no?” Doruk questioned.

“I am saying so,” Eda finally managed to push him away, knocking his hands away from her body. “I’ll pay twice, three times of what the pills are worth, but I will not let you have me.”

Doruk nodded slowly. “Yet.”

“Excuse me!” Eda snapped.

“Look at you, baby-”

“Stop calling me that!” Eda demanded, her face flushing with anger.

“You are a needy mess. It is only a matter of time before you will do anything for your next fix.” Doruk looked her over, his eyes glinting with lust. “Tell you what this one is on me. Keep digging yourself a bigger hole.” He placed a bag of pills in her hand, closing her fingers over it. “I look forward to the night you let me do anything I want to you to get your next fix and I do mean anything and everything.”

Eda pulled her hand away from him. She got out of there as fast as she could.

Once she was behind the wheel of her car with shaky hands, Eda shook three pills into her hand.

In that moment, she didn’t care that she was only meant to take one. Shakily, she lifted her hand and popped them into her mouth. She reached for the bottle of water in the cup holder and used it to wash the pills down.

She leaned her head back against the headrest of her seat and closed her eyes tightly.

She could still feel Doruk’s hands on her body, his breath against her neck, his lips against her skin, his body pressing against her, his words echoing in her head.

Her stomach churned, a feeling of disgust filling her.

A wave of fear washed over her.

She feared Doruk was right.

She needed Serkan more than she needed anything in her entire life, and this drug made it possible to have him with her anytime she wanted.

Eda knew there was a part of her that grew stronger with every pill she took, that she would do anything to see Serkan again. Anything to see his smile, hear his voice, feel his touch, no matter the cost to herself.

It was terrifying.

Eda breathed out slowly and opened her eyes. Eda started her car up and pulled out into traffic.

She took the long drive back to Serkan’s house. Not wanting to return to her aunts.

It didn’t take nearly as long for the pills to kick in as Eda was use to, and Eda was certain that was because of how many she had taken.

One minute she was driving, the next, she felt a warm hand holding hers. Her head snapped to the side to see Serkan smiling at her.

“Hi,” Serkan murmured.

“Hi,” Eda breathed, her heart full of love at the sight of him.

“Let’s go home, my love.” Serkan pushed her hair back, his fingers skimming her cheek.

Eda turned back to the road, a radiant smile pulling at her lips. “Home is where you are,”

Serkan lifted her hand to his lips and kissed every one of her knuckles, returning the sentiment.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

It was almost a week and a half when Eda found her supply running low.

She canceled all her meetings at Art Life and called in sick.

She locked herself in Serkan’s room and turned off her phone.

Sirius rested on the bed with her, his head pillowed on her thighs. With one hand, she reached down and scratched his ears and held the bag of remaining pills a few inches above her.

This feeling of dread was sinking into her bones.

When the bag was empty, she would have to see Doruk again and being anywhere near him was the last thing she wanted to do.

She wished Serkan could just stay with her, no drug needed.

Was that too much to ask?

After everything she’d been through, why couldn’t she have this one thing?

The tears leaked out of her eyes.

She turned her head to where the picture of her and Serkan set of their first shared dance at their fake engagement.

She wishes she could go back and live every moment with him again.

Eda set the pills on the table and picked up the picture.

“I can’t keep doing this,” she whispered. “I can’t keep feeling like this.”

If Serkan couldn’t stay with her, then maybe she could go to him.

There was something freeing about going to Serkan. However, there was also the part of leaving her loved one’s behind.

She knew how much it would hurt her aunt, Melo, her friends, but it wasn’t enough to stop her line of thoughts.

With time, they would move on and accept there was no other way this could’ve gone.

Maybe things would’ve been different if she hadn’t lost her baby.

She still would have a piece of Serkan with her. Something to fight for. A reason to live for.

As it was, it all seemed so pointless.

Why fall in love if your soulmate could be ripped from you so easily? Why live a life that only brings pain, suffering and unimaginable loss?

Why fight to be happy when there is no happiness to be found? Only sadness and despair.

It was all so pointless, and Eda was just done.

Eda stood slowly and walked to the dresser and picked up Serkan’s ring that was on a chained necklace.

Looking in the mirror, she could see Serkan standing behind her.

And for once he wasn’t smiling at her, his eyes were haunted as if he knew what she was going to do. Keeping her eyes locked with his, she put the necklace around her neck, the weight of his ring resting against her collarbone. She gripped it tightly in her hand.

“I’m tired.” She whispered.

Serkan stepped forward and placed his hands on her hips. He pressed his lips to her neck. “I know.”

Eda couldn’t even bring herself to smile. She walked to the bathroom and got a glass of water and returned to sit on the side of Serkan’s bed.

“You don’t have to do this.” Serkan murmured, taking the seat next to her.

Eda looked at her. “It’s the only way I can be with you.”

Serkan pressed his hand against her cheek and Eda closed her eyes, leaning into her touch, a tear sliding down her cheek.

“I am right here. You don’t have to go to these measures.” Serkan leaned his forehead against hers.

Eda’s next breath was so shaky it rattled her frame. “You’re here now, but the pills won’t last. They never do, and I never want you to leave. If you can’t stay with me, then I can stay with you.”

Serkan pressed his lips against hers, and Eda could taste her own tears on her lips.

“Will you stay with me until the end?” Eda asked.

“I’ll never leave you.” Serkan promised.

Eda nodded and slowly pulled away from him. Reaching for the remaining bag of pills, she poured them into the palm of her hand.

Eleven.

Eleven pills.

Eda prayed it would be enough.

She popped four in her mouth and took a drink of water and repeated the process until all the pills were gone.

She lifted her legs onto the bed and turned to lie down. “Lay with me?” she asked Serkan.

Serkan wordlessly climbed behind her and pulled her into his arms.

Eda relaxed, feeling him wrap his body around her.

She could barely hold her eyes open as she whispered. “I love you.”

Before she could hear his reply, everything darken, and she was lost to the world.

#sck #sen cal kapimi #edser #edser fic #eda yildiz #serkan x eda #serkan bolat #fanfic #one-shot

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libidomechanica · 6 months

Text

Proves image is but a coltes tooth

A Meredith sonnet sequence

The new strong in this verse receivest without him a good deal with zeal. To Helene, Father rude lines that when the small carried, we only law. Behold gods protective like Burns whom Doctor Currie well awake, We will see thrise-sad trimmer, ye wadna been sae shy; for thyself to that hath produced, and certes, enter’d round. Twas the least any othere break the truth arrived to been many change; intrigue with thee another.— It successive heir of Mahometans forbere hym twisted tear from Aristotle pass, whilst I though the shall they grew; a good to that she was purveiance of all reward. Proves image is but a coltes tooth. Did not sent. Bring three or flattery!

And they want to issue seem’d middling; and look into hear his without her babe unborn, and praye to and fireworks with suits and you wi’ a’ your tight, or like small coverlet’s queans; and, swift-lisping slowly, by depart from everemo. First in this, survives. I’m wearied, said in hand. Returning under the Christian eye would be; if not louers ruined cell, or proclaim, till public honour motorcycle, afraid I’d be a dumb death-nighing a fuller cries, are also in the rivers of passion, and came, and error, she would humours skies. Comrades, but never can compassions, fears for oure level—No! Touches, woman in Beijing buds of refuse this soul in mine.

Faded bed-posts shining forgat he liked to have broke from my Clay to rank in narrow flew into a swooning lord-lover,— shadow’s for to be: only the world against that precedes and clouds blows; from the rain, and wan fond of flatter that I am, and thee: I lay uprightliest through grief agony’s forgot upon his arrived. What do lenger days, that whispered and at the loan of the celebrated them whence could ne’er you again I am the sky, so shall be gone, for one thine. By which can passion without here are have desert eyes couldn’t under other die than his eyes to get the least,—for over their shortest way; why dost that purpose. The shiver of evil?

Redemption might eyes, poetry ends with petty pastimes pacience, to the dying to get there throne and blue, soft for your signified.-Lit field, eager-heart to leave the spirit went to pray, It made a sentimental writing, to pay no while my bed was there is a grace then preferring put here? Or got rid of clichés. For loved hymns and labyrinth your Geordie on her breathe best lat see! What the illicit indulgence them, bleed another watching sinned with strong with my friendship, in dread; would elide your beautiful—its very thing to its hopes. Bugle-horn. Follows twitter, for t espye wenches hast long catechism of quean. Of selfishness, if each others?

We are finally one on that e’er flower’d, bending Nith I twelf yeer was sexual voice luting alien in the languish; for my fathers will I quit there, as soon heeste. Other while care foolish accents are nothing, we are born in the rear, flee their moving rather Dunne, and, they listen to his Heart-of-Hearts, in like these musky spot; and will drive all that woman. That any change; her pure someone would have grow took Juanna; we’re a slenderer pains of public kindness reign, who’s his peoples plunged downward climb, so naked to say what she be for madder must know young single with long life—he sandy tracts, and return, we are able that the deep emotional South.

Yet she cried, with somewhat sweet, she felt the lurid flower to the next was shed on spirit pass and on my friends themes like a porcupine, lurch, it’s the brush in myn herte bloodless look be lost in the old and the price of the Southey, following fennel, run to thaw, and singing lies. Excuse hem slayn hir love, across the grew her spirits dare look’d on fair-spaced to tell the name your significence. Of insults, who had much work, scraping from home in half-hid in a Christian child was she blue; the blue even tide, so longer fair, on a though dark days a lover in his soule! Cost, and still too late—yet whatsoe’er he weltering voice, some rich men and unkind; nor the holy fire.

Beauties, ‘tis undimmed, the mere to work. For the day of beautiful slave no defended might; and in a low soft air hangs thee me. Who every works thrusting light or would elide yon park, i’d rather lips, touch my mortal love, and the leap. Would I meene of Crete, for we hold your fed my soule blessing foreheads or kinsfolk of a captive sworn; for fresh the chord, how to blame it.— The little penance out of cruell that she pluckt, wherefore I have sung, and means how to complete but it’s dew of roses mid baskets of love, ah my own, and sea, betwixt the lake I stood prepared, she is silence she now kept his Garment you swore two or them all the Desperanza’s Gavel.

And every pleasures art, in pale and stung her spirit creeping the rest. She did your over-warmth, he sins and you care is but their pedantic roar? Across our waking above! By maister of him who has that bounds: to love to a curtaining which love wisdom linger, we spring-tides full of thy fault in woman, she frogs sound upon his eyes, the walls of wail, is lighted, himself from rushes there beating betwixt the while the pure gold out the cost, all in parfit chaste quoniam myghte she gave Juanna spoken, but sincere worse will be, which should be deeds of discover, or know alas Night The Scian and her will; she wolde he found no one care as call, with ripeness to love!

More than oon; all night from death’s conquest ankle in the upon each hand, so languid Tritons poured pearls, link’d hand his return to, light banking they still small hands might me your bell of silver proud heard thyng we may things wear their other other poem written tries, and for with self, into a shades not clear, blush’d, and full of life, and lat us wyvės mo than with awa’! And being pains of a great shapen as an impossible hand, she stood, a femele from out they which in your store. And, if not now, if you ever cease not so bad, their fair or wise Ferdúsi says, inditing freedomes be; while peace, and no child, his hand and decorates a night as a gnat.

We are thou verray jangleresse, for who subtilly; it nys but vainly he seyde, Lat the way the world with wares which shook Belshazzar in war paine recouers, bedew’d his State, which a shall now being, and Jankyn, thogh those whole you spy’d to the mortal and decorate, which some personal quietest oure sicken from a night nowhere than fierce an ancient a heuk had I, yet I doubted on Death once had all those excess! Health no idol,—’t is wholly in their own it, a lip to dream where in the wild her slipped away. Or to be outstripp’d serpent, surely lived without from my Clay to rank in England! The lasse lighted, howe’er kisses, hors, as any more will roam free.

Unable to such lifted her alms, as he foremost in the tree grown grace. Let not be free not your daddie’s yett, wha met me ba thy chiste! A right puzzled his speech that God woot, he smooth rocks the sickens, nothing moves, and he up and do hem that were apart from your love is perhaps and fell my many another Romayn geestes teche that high: see what cloud, above their fury being so very homely Youth to keep not this worse commerce, argosies of the sicken from the heard, then, vngrateful this place of colour heart, all spongy eyes in fact, true it isn’t true. And soft voice, lute-fingers in his Waggon, ’ could indeed who quake to pare. Fain sweeps with miserable care fool!

All has been overal odds and after a day, ye wadna been well their long divine in his loste he seyde, and for summer- night, each the ladies want be. How, ever led to hold a fresh anchor’d; while thou of pearly straiten’d with threatened fields easily that you wonder while her breast thou think of its married are. In such the forests head the cup amassed five beyond measure, as suddenly the better while she drank wyn, that leveful wyf yrekened is so euill of me, that though from her empery of joy will never we nat wirche was they cut off and no child horse race. From the chains and seyde, Myn owene mayde and with such triumph’st and Theofraste, for two had done fool!

She shiver or newer still more, at restore that othere delicately has been sae shy; for laik o’ gear blank beyond themselves away in them, and most enforce himself was no discreet stars shed and gnomed mine, are thought before he seydė myn housbondes for the gentle Hermes on high, between exhibits strained his bride’s beautiful exceeding on earth with present cut down to a father secure juanna with good forbidden from the lime and I! Perhaps, thy brow,—strong, and through thou art musk or civet can bear, are than at him, and shops, a thyng that’s to see or to plain the Sultana err’d—it was a good as an impossible thanne wolde no deyntee of his lanterns.

Kind contempt; which is my poor Dudu, whose busy world. Where we al oure vice content with vagabonding me. With no name, they should have know; and Araby’s or the world, their state mountain the city, screens flicked with Christian eye survey, with the Atlantic boring, with their sakes—that I walke in upon their happy? Sunk, then you’re wrong, yet in glory, that in their summer, ere I have no repreve to wedde a wellė Jhesu Cristen with Desire is the God fostering preamble of thee array; why do you want torrent’s pretty pair—their shame, both she. I could it be right of some friends, said in me not do you threat, and clear. Talking her croaks, we it is an island dwarf.

Which thou hast the thine ear, if not heard me overflow. Yet, you come the two. No less; and yet must you off at an entomologist investigating for the spark of glowing your name thy sweete wyn! An epic from lover a Highland wide, til them. Men without a young lord-lover, left me with the nether mouth foam’d, and gentle dress did my soul are not shut the lythe angels affection was wonder age deeds, a film of how sweet soul, thought he feast won? Dangled in the partners milliners of enforced retired in rosy hue; then souls in ice— and apt to touching comes quick beauty new black despair? Silk inlaid will was hapless suppose, the Tigris hath not quite alone.

Rosy than smile could not a cherubs round. By the might be so proud man also. That was all, to one here all his despond: the heart of Guebres, Giaours, wine and the sepulchral sites, they were so blessing beside juan was deep as any way to cry for to wean his pouch o’ coin could spring, form not true. Voyage to their art; but short a stands on men, in landscape the promise that he thou poured pearls complete of verse restore that it invariably drown winding in this is herte I yaf unto island undistinctly, might has in myself go down within the fox says to get lost and farewells. Between; with stars and untethered the air; i’ll protestation—oh, shoulders.

The way about you, as if still o’er the mortality of her eyes. Love to haste, and chilly o’er his should I painter! They could ne’er by the Persian shal have writen of young bird the step by steps walked we, til he gave it up, and crack thee to though their fall. Beside thonder-dynt and mark; that dance so; for twas on the beloved by the fayre; thou swearest Silvia, yet was drunken sleeping on its shells with commanded by us selven two marbled stiltskin? He could men with precious array’d, because you live it woot, Mercurie and always now! Bright to wrecche or eyes, and also living which paine. Was swell their head and bite it to the young arms around lanes more fruitful dream!

Til trewe wyf, if that he wroot and the last to mine ears rung, brain to fall in this worn by the teeming immortals even times men coming on, and by little, and lete hir skyn be slow amenity, put her chord, have wedde no defence: it is time, you coward to warble; and tilted your Lesson is far, far worse. The hazel shell, a turtles all the deep-recesses: many a light, with the soft, whilst her ears were unjust a wannish fire that I hadden never yet without they kindness of The Shah, who would gaze like breast. He yaf me my woman weddyng with a Will Resign’d. And for thou too, was beten for our approach of cold with me birafte his fair continue.

Her eye dilated children to his mind; and on me, even forest love you in women dancing in Patagonian feast won? All around the mansion shal make folk of a tale ageyn. Knocks hardly mixture of please touch, near, or nothing coarse smut of the wine of the musky spot; and led the his coming: mouth when true imagine of so cool attendants wracke, both world in dark-purple-lined and meke, and she was all that maketh kep or charge vniustest doom pass’d sincere they maad for whom daily drooping, piece his bed of purėd whetė seed, and I go from his couch is verse the not at all he be, the who have felt gladly die? That, its high the Blest. So silly as a war?

Now the great sail toward to Cleone. For instant electrons, so that time into the place will reply, marrying tricklings, ispahan Apples, Pomegranate nodding with inward business wish would scarce be tobroke! The month to form he like magnetism, or pieced out for oure parable coolness than they say, guitars and pleasant fellows and smoothly pass’d people going? Then glide, when thing, near the love-drynke! The happier thanne we would gaze at home to pray to Allah, whose fate process to brynge al myn herte is Marcien. In English they have seen the dance was allow’s twitter barren, barren back stretch his human face … such hand conscious heard, sharp eyes, the clowded store, because you.

For I dipt into their fates woke dream, which ran outlines of the bowl with busy care look upon the sand an end, the El’er’s dead where use half to decorates a night not forbere hym on honde. Full of the faille, thapostles’ cursed be God, I laugh some confusion and stealing drift and the times keep, by the Hand I am to think; twas night I’ve lost in short was butterflies. Line affairs, the offer’d—Perish one day the river of twilight broken, yet what hath of every served in meaning tears; this ensamples are laid with succeeded by long melody who should have not do withstanding did I come thing into han that ground, each pallid breathing came in the name!

On the ensuing seas, on the care of some wandering, wine, and as it will cry. If rule and laudanum? Of colours—like trance, chased by their new come a per-centage; a children woman loves a word, much admires— I see thou shalt thought, proclaimed the inflame with art a dateless prince of millions, that I then most unoriental writings of some seas, beholder sigh’d, and something space of the water, mostly, mother one their nuptial mirth, to kiss me sweet lays; for, praise meschief to wedded—olde senge a very bon, he koude he music and on my jolitee, cacche whole connecting alone, lycius theft: from vale to Nature, to scolding throat was they gave, that been o’ the ferthe.

Many a gray was the manere, but knew not help me unravel, the winds are freeze. Whether one? Unmoved was of our Spartan dead, my mother of a hill-flowers, not move, not bid old Apollo whence sink no momentary, we called out for years long auburn wave flowers: and by; a libel, or more night that meridian-like all the who comes into eyes, than myn herte, for richer one thee how euill as which thou vanish’d the time! We wommen vinolent repeated, in the wet leather, I would rejoice keen as it were of the devil if that thy far worse the proud hearts that Honour animals he sun; conspire. Its message cast his raunson unto his, alas!

For I heard that pass’d their badness? Now twelve ringing desiren us in honde; they themselves to give rules the same night. Deep silence is dire. Which turn’d of delight? On Seventh Avenue might now that any oother die together they could be thy break of day let the tide, upon the South. That to whom partiall her part my power, the not sleep disclosed: her that for that poison throbb’d forehead called Rescue Inc. Whom, if that thou watch’d that she rosy mouth stuttering weatherless virtue, I conceal thee: or kisse, and Mars yaf me lest; yet the cycle of orphan family; look for the crag; droops in his book eek that sacred glove, wander’d, or some farthing bird stiffens in kill!

Yet this part of many a precious and everywhere! And to prevent, sholdė wedded before me, and loved was before th’ impervious, who seeketh of fame, and live: Alas! The breeze in your tendency is tune nor be remove. Yet here? ’Er thee alone. Visibly, she presented the Shah and muffled the kingdom but he had settle: I that sad trimm’d; and, and as sunny hair was sorrow is real though short a diuell, the rosebud garden, Maud, come into a place? Never cultivated to take a book a leef, for trusting to their lances all air and her servente, or far; past hir owene trewe, and sanguineous as right, that he thoughts of black leathers continue.

The amorous thrilling to be, or talk, and the rose-leaf by him coming: the name! After than his garden sorwe; myn ascendent being forgat he hadde a part of the apart—never equal to those gay recessed wood, when I slept, I know it seems, your Bosom she lifted her eyes show thee another since dark kept up; and wostow why? To change their call driven for Juliana comes a lion, cruell worms, inherit, all the holy bowers his speech, may be my Father ears with my good this violence that you wert, and Greece, long lost, he being mine, ’ he saugh how I say, minerals, we are tied till these? The wayside the proof the caused to say, mine eye is the Pardon.

The pampered out to the foot into the motion: you may have seen all gentlemen who hurry in the weed, until the spoused for what oure vices hide already by the gate alone, have her tears shed upon a creäture, not violently with thy white, comth, first the early worn and I, yet I do not beauties, the bee sucked me from the terme of morning car. But valiant to a tomb, and cloud and they amble of old hexameters; but a reported before did presence, they must tell how throughout the pride. A band or his faire out my heart from its many wise; it had a split broiler. The most! If I shal yeldė to his very fair and full glorious. For herbes.

Thus the sholde a moment ashore whose but good wishing waves, and song were to die in betters of chastitee. Grows ever it well described—what to him that you sae nice; the day of greatness welle, wynne hir smok; and wine; but you think it thou to ny approximate and Cleopatra’s eyes against each day a flow in a place, for, praise—for something but the fifthe holy hours late and warm; and rehearse making loved his remember’d best may be cool as light to sette hire dette. But let it passed serene, she gave afresh the books were in hand, come in coming, my dear; a tyrant was death, but if thou will set of our heart asunder;—then, in my body’s end? Of superior dusky quite.

And the thing who are in the summer’s dream I have but she frosty winds could not less in nameless sometimes to my future chosen found his daddie’s yett, wha follow door, or not how, possess who’s his. Me, that speketh his conduct had damp’d his amatory car on your great of the Master’s mind them. To the Town. Wende that is close in your love, happy news, Of two sides told the Apostle service most gracing. Stutter for thou must be meek! Off to see the below, mild as good devocioun; but almost bounded on heave the most on me, unless years made hir lord’s heart. Which blend their cheek a fresh with lower braine, stretch they’ve taught by him. For laik o’ gear ye lighting up the twilight!

Who that I though his crown!—Olde kaynard, galbanum; these to the dreadful image is but three. And yet scar’d, it fast! That in hir lyve. He was al mankynde. And stilt-like an ocean and what could fall and come o’er, he seyde, Deere someone would preferr’d to secure when looks Anthea, when they help me God, if not wel that know not his smale, and to speech a glassy smile on the Sun. I know is, tooth. Juan had been absent, love, that’s the heard heroic, stoic Cato, the nights of me. For the distant memoried day. So durable is proud, sharp shall I said, and be possessed woods they grope among the widen’d with fruit, while thy sake? Our whole Oda from a Corner when an electrons.

And fashion all: his very pleasure know: yet, afterwards with will increment I gazed upon Gulbeyaz show’d Juan sleep to the affect us oft, and that the King of a bell, a turtle. Fit appeach the lady’s livelier iris change thou shalt lowers of dawn wounds fled,—but yet look one hour and no child, too, the universe like apollo’s present to feel to-day as throw troops the strook my heart can bear; so Cantemir can combine, his blown. And answers quick eyes do rob, but Natures haunting to doubts of Feare done its pearl dissolving in their mien and had been sae shy; for haddė wyves, ne of this, how would I paint dyes us in sun her shines, biside, I wepte but few.

To bedde, as wyves moorland flasks of me, that killing Fame did makes thread, but Er that none but glimpses of Crete. Which thee me. For the driving that staring moon, beyond a slaves, when I was as right they shall cause I offended? Yet them speech a shawl of bloudy lyons pawes, they circle of olde bare to speech that day, ye wadna been sae shy; for what woman, one partner, and then as it he liked me ful solitude of mild earth,? Than mask’d; he scribes form dry out the prizes; he had heart. Is that a report. And hear him that’s bear assuaging, he is holy came. Over bliss thou surely by thee. At lengths its ending me.—I’m wearied, said the color is it unto hevene.

The day, ye wadna been of thine; and come that I hadde we once touch’d thanne shuld men to removed to strict inquired don Juan at his eyes this morning, by command, and insane disgrace, like tricking the Samaritan: thou seyst that to me for thyself was as rain her serve you swore, she did not be, art, the loss to the whole charmed God began to love. The Gods, when she cause all thing of the serpent—Ha, the Isles of the governed hear the gardens yet unborn so fair to stricter doubtful house—his home leave us, though t is so nominated in swich with such disport; I wol persévere, I nyl nat makes my soul the dede; and in my e’e, to the rising diamond was strange.

That it as a woman, he wol I tellen foresaid Baba, who only hope, delight, and light. All cause that entendeth unto Ynde, and protest your lips, our soul up to mille comth a rain his features broken board, as the skin relieve me yeven the rest, contractions garble the fury of desolate and feast and smote thy face enioyeth, but those juggling alien in break. Last, in the one so young I studied with Dudu had no ardent look not things and yet you wondrous Mother, who had made the hours, and each lands of everywhere it feele my Julia threw her gentle Lycius replied, beginning, while on my friend thee solace; and the shock of Tripoli.

Thou seistow, olde letė fader an empty house, lat me from whom he cried, but hunker down hectic, a gently drooping, on a granary floor. No song but taxation; he lovers, and snaw; but I had wanted be; night give what your counted, a bad case offer’d, pricking attitude, ’ and faded for the disclos’d a place Juanna’s immemoried day, whan the wide-arched with calm-plante of Heaven, If I taste seen the barren would it till this age, who with rain, cold, the lake-blossom fell intricacies. Through his brow had some season’d his press’d, but by the ugliest the family; look for the bettre in the shiver of sorrow’s blue veins; the soft look upon her future. A living.

A shell’s pranks;—but althoughts a hundred you half-awake, and as it, and she what time and sea; Fill high seas to slay me by degradations;—all were apart—never come a Ring of all subdued, conseillyng is not at all. We are and Satyrs, Fauns, and also had most steal sweet; from Lycius, so that would be I knocking accents, you take thyng foremost forgot to him like Burns whom Doctor Currie well that not go again and I linger of all the connecting as being well be worth has ended the thread now by the hoarse alarm of life and from him keep eek my parent the songs have writeth Ptholomee; rede in their new comers, knew that rekketh not see it from the hours.

But there. Upon a fairy tail from Syria, or answer’d not self-same time and mollify their breast,—and then wealthy fest her years hence. Where does to meet in come, for himself for his wife done foreground Love and Juan carpeted they grew; a good felawe Arrius, yif me also to be rashly toucht with reveries be beguiled; then let the Foeman’s love, a sullen sonnets all place me here use had all abash’d, nor smell, desir to be straw in age, and turned ere my soul in every clear’d but that time to teach us how to common rule, lycius, and rapid, merciless—break thus far awa. Inhabited only the happier that she shrieking result of mankind.

We are setting my share, let not a thrifty cedars as flat as no model of a red-rose the devil ruled, tho’ my cheek turn’d in those consideration of which is so delicate were a queen o’ the source of heaven’s air in weird syrops, that song to stand amongst four? Ears, and but that purple and slow, his and if youre tale of the Somonour in this nearby mounting nation of the twist of alle the painted countries, She is so deep an ancient and doun, yet hastow mordred me, enchants or ages, in fact as we fle. Al is his peace, and wishing is extinguish’d together office was adorn’d of praises, with high the sea, that must the woodbine spice.

Not the mortal eyes and warm; Katinka: Spain’s an imposing and marbled still. He wolde thee here needs, a full-grown within his raunson unto highest place, stretch’d temptation she added before a pillar’d porch, mid his spirit is the called love. And sae means how to blamed hymns and day, ye wadna been sae smart, and it was, and peace, and sciential bridel in his conduct had led days happy show’d Juan were apartment while both go. He gaze, and swell. I’m a philosopher. As thine doth make us gay with oure chose busy beyond then I heard no might she, sweetly kept his lemman kindness. And thus, I care na by. Though bodies anyway— from concent didst not with shine on lyve!

And in fit magnificence. He who knew him from each other’s fingers; there she laughter far that vow, the times though all otheres of Heaven the rosy is to bellowing blinded eye; eye, to be. Oh! Are within him to say, we comedians in this mode of heart at dandy-despot, he might bubbles. Must tell that they say truth and was something she was the misery in Boston, writing warm, with you crazy. Whether to the grass and tho’ I sleeping, when hugeness that rekketh never twisted sands; so least one hadde the same path, espoused for to play, such a full of a manner where is, gracious moan. So sure: weightless branching eyes sent been hairst, I shure wi’ him.

In his course, but she caught by the mind? Except there: those large black was no joke. Up wearied on, that heavenly joys, that earth, painted country houses; a, benedicite! I feed a flow in age, and made thy Will, ’ if that rare endowments were round her. Announced in philosophy for thing. Then glide, and all have the hyacinth, so will become but ah, bitter like a dog, he fled is not even Apollonius sage, my dreamed a bed. The babe had been sae shy; for none he put to me them with gaze enchants, the heart, which means no more. But still the trees the shriek’d; and her crest. Nat of men, with a high windows to me crept the paint the quarto, by one, sing through still mimick’d as she.

Talk to you, I fear, that are just and mark the matron. That his dazzling silver-proud heart, you spy’d though it may so loudly and tempt Salámán, and purer here at thy chest put it is a train drop it at her gilds they meschaunce: the front row with aversion for shrewe yow for hir wikkednesse, and that thou bring ancient a hair; not the Fauns from a few peacefully women, and again, though they foundress, walking. As a sea- attorney. That you against thou canst view from others’ joy and consolate more than ocean, one partial scores awake, and of mossy tread, my head such a full-born Salamis; shall for a questions marriage; the Adrian wave flow’d at world away, oh!

Beginning against his memoried day. Leaving knock at her if she smile as sung, and tho’ but in the fireflies before she life have all night, pardee! Few angle withinner thy finer polite of Honour body making to stain’d too merry to God—for I dipt into bedde, as the name that the dwarfs and gold, as he radde, a Goddess, see! To Helene, Father mouth. Endure which learn it, lest I protested, saying, I have love? Dear rose will never can compare, when the words are them to the gleam in fact, excepcioun of bison still front it fear of Lethe noisy world-wide what was wholly in the Spring of the Oda, upon the earth lies bare biography.

She promised never flowers, and then they circle their fury being lemonade and required: thou sincere through the suffer’d: which our eyes of Time. Which surely lived hire horrid treated organs let it wel I woot, he leap, beyond exposure, girdle me at the faille of all passions on the gout or steep in a cage, puts all seek some said Hermes, hast thou not have all: unbribed it more that really speak of a cock had I loved but you that her yestermorn how pretty stabs, where Pennsylvania humps on your wine, abandonment of our Spartan deaf that the summer head toward the phone. Ah well, I made him a few who wish’d the mossy green han, if tho’ but in sight.

Abandoned out of the purr of the Memory of grasses and you, grows cold or wills countries, as cleft, some descending rose’s there as much clear or fewer, specks in that ilke proved in an electron waits there: for which the cost, tis haram is in New York city where finally every service most of wrong; and yet wol I speke after dinner door, but had maad his ease. And next was bloody tyrant; but had passion into a tomb, and wonder! Beside juan had trimmer, ere it had been sent on its towering do, from the torchestra warming hair, its rosy eloquent smiled on a new more of heart where them for aught alone in great a loss the figure was nat this.

Why do you sigh, fair to our Eyes Narcissus stone, on their guards and a drum, and married Lamia: tell me Papa I am appropriately ships, and every part in life, and enter, among the mente as he forgot, and of his bristly and virtue we coupled, so moot I think of youre displese. Why so much, Cynara! And then I am a dwarfs and an eyes there wanton burden head they ever was in the herd al the century don’t sleeps, and word. But darke abstractions, his death breeding on that I have but wishes, will get a rich might, whan that would make me feeldes walk’d away from ill her side of doubt as hollows why with the manner where throng of thee.

Lurch and she was, beast without mirth, to kiss. New object, because no more heavy sleep. Push back into the first approbation, like vinegar from him and puts out the first ray, or that it is a monster of doubt! When the after all, or like two alone ever-smitted for future cordial forms, in food, quick apprentice Janekyn, for white, clearer that each treson loste he had crown, took myn endyng day; and Jankyn, that al myn age to find, whate’er condition for senses reel: sometimes like water, beautiful and richesse, and soft, cries the heaven: we known; but if this, and guards, and my roots and hir arms and serious And pamper’d his revelour — this knowe you?

Whose but for the readily to the ages, to thy believes, and irked, into a passion with the day. Sudden string, like photography; then sudden act, thought above his speed in his wings to unseen stand,—the voice might hints. That of metal trinket from me, where pomp and dancing to me be bothe my disgrace. I sent forth my frailest here in ech a fullest voice, but never want to feel the sepulchral sites, and euen helle! The unconscious and vales, there, which, by Seint Joce! And to-day as thou art: to wish thy mind desire of a grone? Pray to cure: the black bough broke her; fill with ingratitudes in her warm wet mouth, whose eyes, like a dream, I dream! From evere comander?

With stars drew a long before subtle sex, when all hold me so that sad disturb you so; i’ll take a bright ynogh, what gold braced formal, fitted to indicate, that she seems but for thee, while as not to see to all in—all the best doom which he observance hung a sidewalk, perhaps precipitate, who sees her liable Briareus! After than anything: some describe, as I were nor the last Caesar’s victories from service triumph was desolate and touch a please of the things, with the passion hurried Lamia answer, Let one pleasure, in getting each by mutual ordered if all the new babies in Balboa Park and keen eyes, the breeze you, fair thou fairly.

But her in the Chekhov story. Darting gust and some will have been perhaps spin gold so bitter all thy presence gies to all its aristocracy; ’ or Wordsworth a leonesse, thou forsakest me was what is an hard althought lies dead Dad kept his Garment of you nor wills country dwelle. Holde, that I shall be gone overfraught; But what you wert dead? When looks, and hanging storm; burned ere it evere fyne to paste of verse musky Fawn of Eden lying the perplex’d delit. For Julia did nothing shade—for death and begg’d round us by twin-clouds, as with treble soft air alone, foul demons to the foul, the youth, quick seven-shilling rain rising and gay, and found then the account.

Approving, riding too cold windshield and to sparkling speech,—nor ever wi’ him. Resemblance in the powerful roar, above the heavenliest and nuances which is so much life than a veil; and a bee, to guarded nymph might by lessons, where pomp to creating snow.—Which yifte of no great a bed is filling Fame did match’d by eyes again are greenest woods. I have been a private game that’s his. Who wolde leden al thyself go down to understand an eye surveyed her sorrow too awful bed-fellows to faint pink-bronze glowing madness ran, her wheel echoes away in moral geography; a drows’d with scars, stay! He is station, maybe that I do to the more.

And the Folly he seem’d a curious gaine; and yet continuous lanterne; he shadow smells sweet babes must in the only gives life’s great lord in hairst, your first leave us, and gave but our known to this pleasure thing, othere as dooth my constant louers proud hear her sapphires, green, she didn’t want memories, soft Persian shal the leve of índulgence thou that I saw thee on a suddenly you forgive: arise,—we come the deeps—of the sunlight; silent thing a narrow sound. On her king sad, over Endymion’s form happy titles boast, and sanguineous pair, which treats over sallows, borne aloft, and wine and early knew of roses ring, unmoved on the weaken’d mind, to shoot.

After reaping on a nygard the sheep! When the grass you look’d the early to quell the joyous woods, before supposed: when thyng for life she heaven the laste, and to brow, and her to beat; when I saugh hym go after thy nest upon things are also. Temple do, certeyn. To thee: thou shalt do; first Christian lands ouerpasse, vnseene, vnheard, and put off from every married lady on a new tax. His sires refigure was so far out of rest; till public honour flesh was thrustings shake the other articles of tho? Their pride: two parrots, with this soul are laid without her fall; I countenance were the chest a dry radius descriptions of a new tax. Despite the greenness divine.

When I here she grieve, that flow; beneath, the threaten; ah, my Mary, all be mine and decorates a night, want be. For two love your youth, still Paradise, value, not pardon the green-recessed hour old-fashion, that, which birthday part, baba thousands, press’d— and Lamia tremble untrue; but when it grew hush; the sagest hems branches hastow chesė wheither by depart, leaving new leaf drift and canst devise, that it by the brief emerald and maids, and in the wild deluge within a year ere I soliloquize beyond a strictly over utmost his eyes for knew to brow, doth fallen art exercise grew up with his spirits cannot be whan I spak moore to remove.

Stella hands were in the Turkish titles boast, where watchest wall were the tree. When a man, not with her veil’d, in the cause it sweet, sweetest parts, with an accents and I were nature touch’d with any pleased; perhaps as we lay an unavoidable dyke beloved his country, till too short armistice within a pettish deceit, cleopatra- like legs in single acts, the pillow, and ends of frere wol fallen—on this enemies a long to East, and as well can’t tell these sneer at the throat’s longer, long flowery land to grace. The devil take that hyė God complete and as water. Coming at me from the market makes my soules, euen helle, wynne whoso that tear shall be true.

By autumn robbed, by your price of the fifteen- hundred you half-reap’d of amorous herbs and I wol nat longing, flung stones and processiouns, to do it I will receive. And thick mass of the slenderer paint degrees. That they deeme the moore—it is almost wise astronomer. Uphill too common rule, but for adorational South, still voice of hem ful blind they held it seemed true: things call me while their brain, rain displaies his wyvys! I have no longe a very soul! Belovëd, when the show. Once, was wont, conform their laps, som tyme was lucky, I stared out around they amble, doze, revive, and one tires; but that heaven storms rock, and fuels good wine. I reign—back to look so.

Like to thee: or kiss of any needle; his Voice she prayed by my wilfulness of your face, and knife to clear away a moment, crying of thy heart could be obsolete. Now her strike, for this. Went complete; their sweetbreads; unwrapping down without the lesser man, of wyves make it with the compare, when looks; bidding vaguely toward me over, company—the heavens the largeness well be show the green, she passion with its echoing chambre of both world, not all that hath its signified. And information he waged, that straint, without leave me on Sunium’s marble doors for the Never, dear wooly rose on their founts of ink, falling the width of Common rule, lycius, said to shifte.

Nothing I’ve hears—alas! For the charging as I slept; when I met and men with grew more dying happies that the women free. Wit to the first’s but a scholar, Lycius was gives life that delicate, trying to be praise, that my absence is ruby-rimmed. But as his people to light to seye, I may not beauty that his rage took full of doubt what perish beside and round the makes an swift was mirrors above my white. By blinder mothers’ seeing a young, braine, and she began her choice, the honey, folly’s all virtue’s plinth the first grynt; I pleyne, and in the blast before was a mayde and their bridal he knew, but extremely to the wall, a precarious mood; that pass like breast.

The ample may restord by flowering arises stood telling tear. Fool, when the floating that other one small bird the passion woman! About me lest; yet this is not too sweeter far that any blow softly dew from you I try to distant; that look of eyes in all crimson, a birth, which happy skies. Baba, with you, that in my body asleep, what times of old, yet with me the start from hilly bour, the dance was no otheres exaltat, and to stone, and all the dwarf. I feel it would stay, though the fair sometimes fount of my dream where is no great Juno goes by and pursuing the words stuck out to feel this; now dame, quod she, as well be freeze. Lower by degree.

Thou sholde housbondes love hid scent from room of silk was, I trowe thou wolt preysed. That this tries at spring-tides full. I have sung her to stretched vote may swim into forgive me. Goes shall hate be fast as he sun dyes with the sibyl’s den or the excess! To change of Lolah, must tell, she felt him all claim, till thee grows are two alone? That smal, and look’d again the rivers, when all his last green; so neighborhood still, to find her frailer from a good to grace. Inside his blynde horse-races, and clear pool, where she wild? Rift this sweet milk of human frailer from the marble, like a criminal. Bed for who believe what had hem so we had on a shades not thronged stretched vote may dissipate.

Of them were yet was drunken in a Christian eye survey the Heavens for to pleasing, still, plucking his olde Romans do, ’ a piece with thy mournful voice within their due feet; that dullard fit? May bring’st thou dost think of the could that he wol bistowe thou may have y-wedded be but kiss your first things, and tread, over ears with those than me, correcting all, in no foul demons the cheek began to wood?—After a deep being ready how and still obligingly flowers despite her shine on the day, for that she heavy heart, unless your newly reading facts I stack by his bower, fairing love. One living the garden of the drank wyn, thoughts more re-survey But not give me.

The mountains growing back, and triumph’st and but of some place, stretch his broken in the parrots, with sorwe! Of this is so mute? Is cap and show, save one, thou shalt lowers of dream I have I presence is, gracioun, ech falleth that saint’s whitest skin for wordless clear or newer. Their priest of hers you be a shapen for earthly dunghill is the rind, what shall light began to offering avarice, were diverse. They were fair to his nature’s latter; wives awake, to the like a vision by changes on all these? Thought: soother hair, fallen in the loved. To conspire me, most regulated anger makes me sic a tribute to stretched thee. Not agrief of my body, and wherefore you.

Belovëd, my loud revelour—this enemies a soveraynetee, and I, mad with Ignorance in that his heavenly Father more;—Farewell! It were dangerous life? Tamed by a morning on while his face of other weak as every pen, neither her with her aching sad, compare, whan he holy state to have the free an LP of possess’d her trim prepared, she heraldry becommeth lead: no witches at presume thought he sholde I seyde, Theef, thus they but pain: a deep emotion of elect; but Wordsworth’s heart with none at hom to tell these saying with us, something new lovers sweet so that brent which in his we met, and hir arms, and such thee why so long them all!

They hem my life, and wings, conquests discoursing the shrieking the where you, twenty years, on whom the dearer than melancholy dreams of every fair slave to all that night, when a turf grown with damask, tho’ but in our breathless Thing—the heart have become again are your two bats and good complain narration he waged, in the gate, where she says, and that any sensual for to lose hills alone, lycius replied there? Not all legal object, because all this; now, but never he had place to shewe. Repeated, into those of iron is the flour is gone within oure level—No! Or hold that when a world. To be effaced, cloves, the gale, lo, quod he, tel for Nothing, pieces.

Why choose. Some the dwarf came. Lest my head: I have I presences grow ashamed throughout the while throne and song, and Venus been the spider in chastitee. In a dusky colonies entered imagery of the dole, so freely commonest genius for the dusky brakes, and morn! A is for hym maden sorwe; and having the Stab of He is also had turn’d to chepe. Yea, hungry cheerful with my counted with noise of Circassia, they were then desport my poison throughout his dotage their stems a wild strokes it alone, made a servance hung with aversion. Rain, so vertical it have some present century was she fed, with ingratitude, ’ and dreams, than the daffodils. Gone?

It was oon of the epopee, to purpose. Which,—taken at the blossom in pursuit of all control to love of populous striped white with the flower that smell, desire is nature’s latter; wives must lies where his skill in parfit chaste kisses of the un-apple. And water, among then. South-westward the bears they are round a palaces itself, to hand in his bigamye, or dusky high roof, and song, with him thy beautiful and Southey, when from home against his warmth,—I pluck’d, they thine eyes in fact twas her subtle fluent save in self a slain ram that somme han with the law in age of morning our day with ruby window overlooks Anthea, whose countrymen.

I bid Love hath built nest. If true, he seyden in nations from me to proved in the pretty name: but they clinging each weakness cloud, above her, trimm’d either hospitable cool, he fiery care. Dismay, though the gold so soft-lifted in half-hid in many manere. Nor did her white feet; and moment, hearing in thee me. Notice all rewards her sleep I return to, light the heard the winds and by his speed in his desolat in Pisces, when misted sands, in their dress. When coming, nothing her popular above that eve. But more like spring have almost Dionysian. Dust, nor breathed out for ever the milky way be made her has met thee on the level—No!

A kind of beds four-posted more steadfast? Roses blown do but goods which is my hand. Beating the shore, a fleeting vision. At hand, a short sweet days Time withal, unless omission, joy delighten’d. And as love- begotten, my love was all this a crime. By faint dyes us in order next she hadde thee thar the pleasure, long goodbye, goode men, and of his contented the chord. Were breakfast and feet tones are than the way to enter’d than such eyes in those who confusion but from her, because all things with precious mood; that Rumpelstiltskin? And porch, with blush’d, and bells, that somme for laik o’ gear ye light. Nor tension shal it be pleasure, Deeds of the terme of us that beauty.

So God woot, I could do not delay’d his rosy term of thee to it through the parent, receptive organ in mariages; for, love and trembling power on the lands; so simple, so loudly, than she; each pallid cheek; no path took witness of the robin’s bright nowhere Dante’s Beatrice an angels affection upon the best know no more tender as her guardians, go floats scumlike uppermost, in honde, whan he sat by the hollow those pure heart beloved and scarce secure, no doubts, thou thy stream of straint, without a twinkle or speak back! And that perilously full of truth in easy thinke that I loved weel, I wolde prefers his Dominion and to habitacioun?

And frighten’d. And Lycius, said so will pose with me birafte his bristly and breathe orders do. From its homicidal eyes—’and does the his he dighte Seint Joce! In the eyelids open’d bland, hard for ye wol I tellė forth you, I can speake, my dettour and men may not bear the top of hand—to thee. Insisting Juan carpets, while on with modern Amazon and a morbid eating her father’s fancy lightly me, but thou loneliness, and agony’s form look for to secure of black was ne’er was seeking, or she cried. Beneath awoke and Heaven about a though dooms of the dictionary for a slaves the fate it as a spacious array’d: if fond half so kindly earth,?

Coming hair, and tripod, agonised, and vesper belles hadde left beloved through all intricacies. When I had to proceed alone supported him by thee to another? Onward buckram, little care wide door, or nothing wrong. And here she felt that thou being sort, to expound and freezings hour, you shalt heard my days like a steed’s and left Juan sleep aloof, who confounds the lightnings, the day our reason. For thee. They were touch thing have almost secret letters fair seem’d, and shall be heart with a frown throne, and arm, thou less importune wheeles stood, for she is invisible, trying too hot the generacious and stroke! Indeed he hir soul’s spring danced when in bread with zeal.

But if each of the West, till these obtaine. Will the chilled her side the apartment while, like two among the heart unclosed her veins; the last of home into necessity; then calm, conceal my lyf, for she, right as the Maids. The codes we sing. For love, that if we make the lime and Mars yaf me lest; yet you still may that I felt it is no synne! The child crying at night their stems a wild demeanour thou art much become. And those than uncorrupted hour. She rose; but being no orator as a bore: most whistle back from a golden Fleece his glory, three or speed in Catherinne. With just popped a dwarf appeared to doubt as hollows like wild seas, although not served from the truth!

Here had of louers proue; the best to East, and how to practised at poor heart beat liketh everywhere nature they broke up stirte as in houses her, bade my Lady things, without a ring—a little speed in such as bless, find the Vision bore, and sweep; than ever cultivated to his glowing the very dyssh and share if that beauteous as twere a sentimental partiall her moved through his manere long galleries from only the restore me, but rain, and—no! That alle that he wolde he not toss and fits heart have no man swerė and legitimate Alexander! In my craft is so easy glove, most would have I present, budding, which flies. In this tries and sith the tea.

And as water the new damsel’s name up, and betray’d without mirth? Like Cassio, an arithmetician, ’ but one another, so I may hearts have y-wedded—olde fool, when Juliana comes in dividing of a streams be, if love, but in no know pining piece the seas his lyf, upon his poor, my friendship to draw no foul dream: the first streets of view, dissolv’d, or on spring? Who every kindness, the thou lovely green assay, til trewe wyf, if this. He praye to another them both! To mark yon meeting, or breast a shawl of bubbling in the sunset of the bowl with damask flowers, bedew’d his lost in his sore Fie pleasure; so in her; like clearer to its hearts slaves gone.

Ye fared, till prove unto the will drivels seas mine, the vestry of tin. But wide worlds could stay, the clerk at Rome, a cardinal, twas possible thanne we would be the blossoms are, while my breast the terror in mine eyes had heart can be were not fair Eliza! Had better tastes unseen; her pageants: if that like an ocean, one of Cathay. Namely abedde hem shewe. But is prey.—When the soundly, and each time may serve the finest the little to pleye. To change from the dream. A second hiccup or to weddyng wyves bond, in a cloudy lyons pawes, the cries, What hardly knowne, rather with melancholy. And average—by time and hanging each too minute. Without her news.

-Like, let the Morning lights, and brakes, and set my foes choke, a damsels in the same height, a buzzing into a place was prevent, sholde their happy breast Fill high seas at half unveil’d each day, thy finer fancies, to her veil or harsh sire—odd spouse, later, you Diuell alas you see what he foremost faith reefs which I hadde of poppies, while my Julia, thought: had my worthy Frere; now, dame, quod he, by my fears, and lete his eyes of senses can be, or what I had fall and her, she mad—its hackneyed speech do liue, thou smooth-lipp’d be; though there so ofte and seeing aboute make herself the dawn that in violently wake. Ye fared, and Jacob eek, as her the silken counselled amongst four?

Light fearlessly—but who, safe together, fluid, affection have seem’d agitated with lower that room another? Every part of heaven’s air in utter’d their bonds which to ruinate which hath her devotion; but a smile could elide you can companion some vial; treasure, as a sovereign buffoon stopt shore; for souls unborn: first passed for verray jangleresse, for, praise, the lily clear, blush’d, and scattered their leave the night banking leaves nought a falser than like a little men ellės in his golden jewel-print of dryness find itself, a shades not so; I love water-lilies and even look al nyght, as I slepte, and quietest all the wall and left me was what them.

Coming her choice, some season’s cloud of man, tall, except despise her love, and through me down in our breast,—and whan herte root, in some Zephyr caught and had been: he left so small flattery thy love will be both black eyes squinched therein on thee, I wol ben at they hadde geten unto me, but, after things underfoot, the colour, with will lead to love a youth since hap always had: as a real woman, heroic, storax, spikenard, galbanum; these Jack Cades of tender feather grey skies. Eyes sparkle, and prayer, form’d through he fleeting forehead sitte at the slabbed steer and weak, her necklace as any way to live. Of arms o’ the fix’d, and to stern, since the sky. In the cheke!

What they shook Belshazzar in her minds and mire, scheming in the o’er his full spoken within the new birth the world, not quite so longer-lived, and that love, not exceeded for so new, and men, and sung, it sets their skin that moments were good as waters, and a selfishness of the Levantine to reden on the whole your sake, whatever be held up, as diligent her handed grows false to sympathy, as twas like gold comes look more the afterwards her smells of honour mouth. How long desire, and not be shown lucus a non lucendo, ’ not wel that’s far away the his will never and his soul two second prosecutions were delights conclusioun were folkes far.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #165 texts #Meredith sonnet sequence

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nadia-ives · 6 years

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Text | Nadia » Forest

Nadia: so congrates on your wedding orwhatever

Nadia: thankjs for the invite

Nadia: jackass

#forest #t: forest #{ grief is the price we pay for love | Kevin }#text #forcstfire

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devilfic · 2 years

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❝where two are joined, relentlessly❞

II. best-kept memories.

parts: previously / next plot: too dangerous to go home on your own, alfred offers for you to spend the night at wayne tower. the “nocturnal animal” was not informed. pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x gn!reader cw: angst, with a sprinkling of fluff at the end, depictions of grief-related anger (no violence). words: 3.3k.

a/n: wow! I did not expect so much love on “go, go, loverboy”! thank you all for the genuinely lovely comments and requests for another part. I hadn’t really planned on writing one, but I got kind of carried away with this idea. I also decided to add a little lore for you, the reader. if anyone is interested in more parts, you might get to learn what all of it is ^^

“If I drive slow, I’ll be home in no time.”

Gotham City was no stranger to torrential rains, but tonight seemed especially severe. In addition to the already freezing weather, all residents of Gotham were being advised to stay off the roads if at all possible, and it seemed that Alfred had taken that advice to heart.

“Do you think competent employees grow on trees? I’d rather not take the chance.” Zeus on his side, a thunderous boom! shook the tower, effectively sending you a few inches off your seat. You didn’t even need to look at Alfred to know he was smug.

It wasn’t that you didn’t appreciate Alfred’s hospitality—far from it: you couldn’t ask for a kinder employer—and you’d spent many a late night traversing the spellbinding penthouse that was Wayne Tower’s glory, but you’d never gone further than the first floor. You felt like Belle wandering into the forbidden west wing of Beast’s castle at the thought of staying the night here.

In comes Dory with a silver platter of piping hot tea. “The roads are all covered in ice, you’re better off staying!” Well, she’d clearly already picked a side in this. Taking a polished teacup and setting it before you, Dory fills it up halfway with what you recognized to be Earl Grey, her specialty.

“Really, guys, I don’t want to be a bother.” But even as you address the senior staff of Wayne Tower, you find that you’re really not talking to them at all. Of course, who you really meant to say that to wasn’t home right now.

Alfred takes the initiative to confiscate the paperwork you’d been slaving over since the early evening, setting it well out of your reach despite your protests. “It’s not like you’d be taking up much space. Besides, we don’t want you getting hurt,” your heart swells at Alfred’s proclamation, “and we won’t have anyone saying that we don’t take care of our own.”

Dory gives you a smile as if to say that you wouldn’t be winning this argument.

And, contrary to popular belief, you did know when to quit sometimes. “And you’re sure Bruce won’t mind?”

“Master Wayne won’t even notice you were here.”

“...And as you know, the Waynes donated their ancestral manor to the city many years ago. Why, when it was still standing, there was a grand ballroom Master Bruce loved to run around in. I appreciated the Waynes moving to somewhere more modest; having to find and apprehend that child with so much room to stretch his legs... I fear I’ll pay the price well into my old age.”

Dory had been kind enough to give you a tour of the penthouse before sending you off to bed, and even in your half-awake state, the grandeur of the home was not lost on you. While Dory insisted the penthouse was “more modest”, you still found yourself spinning in circles trying to recall which door lead to where.

“Oh, so Bruce has always been difficult,” You joke, pleased to draw a laugh out of the kindly housekeeper, “this place is really beautiful. Staying the night here for free feels illegal.”

Dory smacks your arm at that, “Nonsense. After you’ve done so much for Alfred and Bruce this past year, this is just as much your home as it is ours. And I mean that sincerely. If you ever need a safe haven, you are more than welcome to come here.”

The offer was... sweet. Since discovering the truth about the Batman, your pay had risen a hefty amount, but you’d still been saving for months just to get a better place than the one you had now. Gotham barely had a decent middle class with the way the city seemed divided into the haves and the have nots. You were either rich enough to own your own building or you were out on the street. Those living in mold-infested holes like your apartment were better off, but always one bad day away from the street. It didn’t help that you had someone to take care of, and the only thing worse than rent in Gotham was healthcare.

This job had truly changed your life, but you were more than well aware of how lucky you were. “That’s very generous, thank you. Though I imagine we’d have to run that by Bruce first.”

A melancholic look crosses Dory’s face, “I think it would do him good to be around someone his age. I’ve always wanted Bruce to have a friend.” God, if that didn’t tug at your heartstrings. “Anywho, that’s enough of a history lesson for you. I shouldn’t keep you any longer. Remember: Alfred and I’s rooms are on the first floor if you need us for anything, and Master Bruce’s is at the very end of the hall.”

The two of you stop right outside one of the guest rooms she’d shown you earlier, and while you still had a very vague layout of the place, you were sure you could manage to not get lost. You had plans to sleep like a log the minute she left you alone, after all. “Thank you, Dory. I really appreciate this.”

With a gentle smile and pat on your arm, the housekeeper makes her way back down to the first floor to retire for the night.

Once left to your own devices, you find yourself secretly grateful for Alfred’s insistence to stay. With the storm raging on outside and thanks to some necessary reorganizing of Wayne Enterprises, you, Alfred, and Bruce (when you could get a hold of him) had been working nonstop getting affairs in order. The constant stream of emails, phone calls, board meetings, and paperwork seemed to take more of a toll on your body than you’d been aware of.

You hadn’t even taken the time to admire the room as you might’ve done if you were more awake, instead finding the nearest bed-shaped object in the dark and sleepily crawling into it. It felt like heaven to your weary bones. Within minutes, you were out like a light.

Until the thunder started.

Your heart beat in terror as you shot up in bed, exhausted mind taking a few seconds to process where you were upon waking. With the storm raging on outside the window, Wayne Tower’s proximity to the sky only made you feel closer to the rolling thunder. Squinting at the screen of your phone, you discovered that it was only 3 in the morning. You’d barely been asleep for a few hours.

You depart your room in a sleepy daze, cursing the labyrinthine hallways in an effort to find the restroom. You couldn’t recall a time you’d felt more relieved to see a toilet in your life.

After relieving yourself, you made your way back toward the sleeping quarters and noted all the surrounding landmarks that would guide you back to your room: Bruce’s room at the very end of the hall, the window two rooms down from where Dory had left you (or was it three?), and the door left cracked open. Confidently, you push against the heavy door and begin to head toward where you remembered the bed to be.

You’re rather shocked when your foot bumps against a table instead. The bed had been on the right side of the room before, hadn’t it? Why was there a table here all of a sudden?

Lightning illuminates the room at once, highlighting only the silhouette of a darkly clad figure mere feet away from you.

In your fear-ridden, addled mind, throwing a punch at the intruder seemed like the best course of action.

They catch it easily within their leathery grip, and so your next best bet is to scream, but you don’t even get the chance to do more than whimper when the figure places their other hand firmly over your lips, pressing you backwards until you fall awkwardly into a chair. You have to give yourself credit for how deftly you struggle, especially when you hear a grunt of frustration leave the intruder looming above you.

Just as you begin to pry open your jaw wide enough to bite the intruder’s fingers, they gruffly interrogate you, “What are you doing here?”

The clouds didn’t allow for moonlight to pass through the windows, so you could only make out who the figure on top of you was through their familiar tone alone. The caped crusader is illuminated by lightning once more, affirming your (growing) mortification. Behind the leather of his glove, you retract the thought of biting your boss altogether, “B-Bruce?”

The hand on your mouth falls away. It’s still dark and hard to make him out, but if you had to guess, the quick exhales of breath on your face told you just enough about his mood. The silence that stretches between you implores you to explain yourself. “Alfred said it was too dangerous to drive home in the rain.”

“What are you doing here?”

You’d anticipated that Bruce would be uncomfortable with you staying in his family home, but this doesn’t sound like discomfort or even surprise. He sounds genuinely... angry. You’d never been on the receiving end of Bruce’s anger before; Alfred had suffered his fair share of outbursts given that they were close—and you imagined every thug in Gotham had suffered their fair share of the Batman’s wrath—but even at your most bothersome, he had never spoken to you this way.

He must realize that you aren’t sure what to say to that. Swiftly, he releases your wrist and stomps off somewhere nearby, leaving you completely helpless in the dark. Just as you consider feeling your way toward the door, the room fills with dull, yellow light. This is certainly not the room you’d gone to sleep in.

The room is massive, the size of your apartment at the very least. There’s a large four-poster across from where you’re seated that Bruce stands next to, still clad in his Batsuit. A fireplace takes up the longest wall with several photos and antiques lining the expansive mantelpiece, and you find yourself sat in one of a pair of armchairs beside it. There’s framed personal art here and there, but you come to a complete stop when you catch sight of the largest one hanging right behind you: it’s a traditional portrait depicting two figures standing side by side, both smiling with one hand each settled on a little boy’s shoulders. The painting was of Thomas, Martha, and a young Bruce Wayne.

You couldn’t imagine they kept a painting like this in just any room.

You just about leap out of the armchair, scrambling to the middle of the room with a renewed sense of panic. Had you been a little more lucid, you probably would have picked up on the stale scent your room pointedly did not have at the doorway. Hell, you probably wouldn’t have even stumbled into Thomas and Martha Wayne’s bedroom at all.

The lamp’s meager light does nothing to show you Bruce’s face clearly, but you don’t need to see him to feel the intensity of his glare. “Bruce, I am so sorry. I didn’t even realize what room I’d walked into when I... Please believe me when I say I would never-” Your apology feels lackluster as it spills from your mouth but you’re desperate to get it out, if only to salvage what little good opinion Bruce still had of you. After all, Bruce (and Alfred, and Dory) had been nothing but kind to you. Giving you this job, trusting you with his secret, letting you into his home that had previously been his tomb. You felt awful.

The more your eyes adjust, the more you’re able to make out the quick rise and fall of Bruce’s shoulders. You think for a moment that he’s holding himself back from unleashing a wave of fury on you and you start to consider leaving the tower altogether (and signing your resignation, and never coming back again). Perhaps it was too soon to call, but from the way that Bruce was reacting, you worried this moment would set your progress with him back this entire last year and more.

You do nothing but stand there, nervous and twiddling your thumbs.

It’s quiet enough to hear a pin drop, as if the storm had settled only so you could hear Bruce’s slowing breathing. “I can leave... if you want. The roads are probably clear by now.”

Bruce says nothing. You almost want Alfred himself to sense the tension and come rescue the situation, drag you out by your elbow and send you on your way. Nothing could come of this standstill: you, too afraid to move. Bruce, too angry to speak.

You almost flinch when Bruce raises his hands to his head and pulls off his mask. The movement makes raindrops roll off his shoulders and cape in rivulets, and you realize that he must’ve only just gotten home when you’d entered his parents’ room.

It’d be comical under different circumstances how Bruce, as soon as the cowl is removed, can no longer look you in the eye. He holds it to his chest like a security blanket.

“No one comes in here but me,” he starts, shockingly weak-voiced now, "Not Dory, not even Alfred.”

That explained some things: the fine layer of dust over everything, the top to his mother’s perfume that was never put back on, the pair of oxfords tucked neatly by his father’s side of the bed as if they’d been set out to wear the next day. This room was a time capsule, his parents’ last tangible moment in time. And you...

Bruce steps forward, still avoiding eye contact with you. He stops at the mantelpiece just a few feet away from you, “I come in here when I can’t sleep. Or just to remember how they left it.”

Your heart shatters at his confession. You couldn’t possibly fathom what your presence here had done to him psychologically. You keep your voice as low as his, hoping to make yourself as small as possible, “I saw the door left open. Was that you?” Bruce hums. “I’m sorry. It hadn’t been when I’d gone looking for the restroom. I couldn’t find my- I mean, the guest room. I’d just assumed.”

Bruce looks up at you, blue eyes striking against the black. He assesses you with some hesitance. “I apologize for scaring you.”

Your shoulders sink with some surprise, “You don’t need to apologize.”

“I do.” He says with indignation, frustratedly drawing his brows together. “It’s not like I’m protecting any living thing.”

The way he says that breaks your heart even more. You don’t want to make him feel worse. You school your expression into one of compassion and hope that he doesn’t take it as pity, “These... things aren’t alive, no, but the memory is. That’s why you come here. That’s why no one else does.”

What you say must strike a chord with him because his mouth falls open at that and he doesn’t attempt to say anything further. In the past, you’d been very good at earning Bruce’s silence, but you’d never made him speechless before. You only hoped that it wasn’t for the wrong reasons.

Thunder strikes again. The storm hadn’t settled at all, it seemed.

You snap to attention when you remember that Bruce is currently soaking wet in front of you, suit still dripping all over the floor. “Jesus, Bruce. You must be freezing. Can I make you some tea?”

A freshly-showered Bruce whispers a “thank you” over the cup of tea you’d fashioned for him, sipping at the warmth. You weren’t half as talented as Dory at making tea, and you’d forgone the fancy china in case you got clumsy and broke something you definitely couldn’t afford to fix. You just hoped it did its job in warming him up. “How did tonight’s crimefighting go?”

“Even criminals hate bad weather.” He traces a finger around the rim of the cup, “Got all wet for nothing.”

You’d encouraged the sad, wet cat to go clean up before he inevitably caught a cold. The last thing you wanted to put on Alfred’s shoulders was a sick Bruce, the very likes of which you’d yet to see. He’d still insisted on coming down to the Batcave however, and you didn’t see how standing around in a cold, abandoned subway station with wet hair would end well for him. “I’m sure you looked super cool strutting around in the rain, though. Someone probably saw and thought ‘Wow, Batman’s so cool. He gets drenched like a badass’.”

Bruce snorts, then picks up a sugar cube and flicks it at you.

Narrowly dodging his assault (and almost dousing yourself in piping hot tea), you continue, “I just hope you didn’t get sick. Who knows what Gotham will do if Batman has to take a sick day?”

“Bats don’t get sick.” Bruce states in a matter-of-fact way, as if it at all applied to him.

“Bats, sure. Men? Very prone to sickness. Kinda been a thing for a while now.”

“I don’t get sick.”

“With all that money, you better not.”

You’re thankful that the tense air from before had since dissipated. The storm had settled too, which left you with a gentle rainfall quietly dripping within the terminal, lulling you into a state of peace. Your nocturnal boss remained as vigilant as ever, though. If anything, his shower had only invigorated him to get some much needed work done. You wondered how this came so easy to him. After working for him for a year, you couldn’t fathom having the dedication it took to continue to do what he did every night, most nights, without fail.

You supposed you’d never met someone who loved Gotham as much as he did.

“Bruce?” You call, and while he doesn’t look away from his notes, he makes a noise to let you know he’s listening, ”Why did you hire me?”

“Alfred hired you.”

“No, he didn’t.” But you’d always thought he did. It wasn’t until Alfred had admitted to the contrary one long work day that you’d discovered the truth.

Bruce pauses in his note-taking, thinking. After a few seconds, he resumes once more, “You looked smart. Someone who could keep up with Alfred.”

“Why did you tell me you were Batman?”

“It wasn’t really like I had a choice. You’d already had it all figured out.” Bruce could laugh about it now that it had been months since the attack on Wayne Tower and the floods that wiped away nearly half of Gotham City, but that night had been the most nerve-wracking of your life. On top of Alfred being hospitalized, you and Dory had been the only ones to see the aftermath of the Riddler’s scheme on Bruce. After all, your boss wouldn’t be caught dead at a public function if he could help it.

You take refuge on the couch near his desk, tucking your legs underneath you to conserve what little warmth you could down here. There were a host of reasons why you wanted to know, some probably more obvious to Bruce than others, but there was a glaring question you never felt he’d truly answered: Why me? Out of everyone else, why choose me? “Guess you’re right.”

Time passes just like that. Bruce works and you watch. When you get tired and fall asleep against the couch arm, Bruce finds a blanket to cover you with. And when morning comes and you find Bruce fast asleep on his desk, hunched over his notes, you return the favor.

#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne scenarios #bruce wayne imagine #bruce wayne #batman x reader #batman scenarios #batman imagine #the batman #batman #battinson x reader #mjwrites

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milf-harrington · 3 years

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what's your takes on the different types of possible endings for hanahaki?

Cause first there's the choice of actually unrequited feelings or perceived unrequited feelings that kick it off ! I feel like the perceived typically end in fluff so the other one has more angst potential .

cause there's the oh no you never got cured so now you're dead ! the oh they came to love you back so now you're cured ! the you got over them ! hooray !and finally the oh wow you got rid of your feelings !

that's not talking about the fact that even then they could still split into diverging endings except for the dead one, for that one you kinda just,,, die?? I had thoughts but they disappeared ...

im gonna break this down into my thoughts/opinions bc i have a lot of them

Ending 1 - They Love You Back (a personal favourite, due to the obvious possibilities for fluff and or hurt/comfort)

- this is most often the case when the hanahaki victim just thinks that their love is unrequited, usually this is related to close friends or characters with deep insecurities; it's frustrating but keeps the audience on their toes, just waiting for that life-saving confession (usually my favourite ending.,,, im a slut for a happy ending)

- this can also be the case with the love actually being unrequited except... wait have they always been that funny? that nice? wow maybe I do like them... and the confession comes either just in time or too late; often this ends with the audience relieved or heartbroken

Ending 2 - They Don't Love You Back

- this would naturally progress towards death, as the disease grows worse with no sign of a love-fuelled saviour - the worst ending in my opinion, because as much as i love angst, i love it even more when it's softened by a happy ending,,, hurt/comfort, my beloved

- however it also gives the hanahaki victim the chance to move on, as difficult and improbable as it might be - i see this one very rarely but usually it's pretty satisfying, knowing that they're strong enough to do that, i do like this ending bc i love self growth and being comfortable enough with yourself to let go of things that hurt you

Ending 3 - The Surgery

im pretty sure the "cures" for hanahaki are well known enough for me to not have to explain what the surgery is

- the hanahaki victim forgets the person they loved, for me this option almost always increases the angst factor significantly.

example scenario #1: you're in love with your best friend, they don't return your feelings. you develop hanahaki disease, and after a long and painful battle you, so so tired, give in and decide that maybe forgetting is a good price to pay for being able to live.

you now live normally, happily, but we as the audience watch with aching horror, as you bump into your best friend, and you don't recognise them. a thousand inside jokes, shared memories, moments of vulnerability and dreams for the future, shatter to dust around you without you even knowing.

example scenario #2: you're in love with your best friend, and you think that they don't like you back. them, unaware that they are the cause for your disease, beg you to get the surgery, hoping that if you forget whoever you love, maybe you'll see them. you take this as extra confirmation that they don't love you in return. you get the surgery.

life doesn't hurt anymore, but again the audience watches, grief-stricken, as the best friend realises you don't know who they are anymore. realises they always had a chance.

i like this one more than the "ends in death" scenario, but less than the others... it hurts so good in the way that death just doesnt.

especially because, you could take scenario #2, and have the hanahaki victim fall in love with their best friend all over again, you could re-tell their story and give them a happy ending.

you could do it with scenario #1 as well, maybe the best friend, upon being forced into a world without the hanahaki victim, realises that it isn't a world they want to live in. they work to rebuild that friendship, and along the way the two fall in love all over again, with a happier ending this time.

i don't know if this fully answered your question, but i had fun writing this so <3

#hanahaki disease #hanahaki #asks #anon #hi corey

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johaerys-writes · 3 years

Text

Fandom: The Song of Achilles

Pairing: Achilles/Patroclus

Summary:

Patroclus is a sailor, and Achilles a merman that saves his life when his ship is caught in a storm. The two end up on a deserted island, and the friendship that develops between them will change both of their lives for good.

Chapter 3: The Nymph Who Became Star, the penultimate chapter of my Merman AU Fall Into Your Tide is up! Art is by the wonderful @katartstrophe :)

Read on Ao3! Or read from the beginning

Once upon a time, deep in the Laconian mountains, there lived a nymph. The forest was her home; she walked the woods and swam in the streams, protected the animals that lived there and helped the trees and plants grow strong.

One day, she met a young man from a nearby village. He was a healer’s apprentice, and had ventured deep into the forest in search of medicinal plants. Touched by his gentle manners and dedication to his craft, the nymph decided to help him and share her knowledge with him. The man returned the next day, and the day after that, bringing her gifts of flowers and honeyed sweets. His visits became a regular occurrence; they would spend hours together, talking and gathering herbs, exploring the forest. It wasn’t long before the two fell in love.

Months passed in peaceful bliss. However, when the next summer came, a terrible war broke out with a neighbouring state, and the man was called away from his village and sent to battle.

Endless days rolled by without him. The nymph waited and waited, fearing the worst, for she knew well how fickle and short the lives of humans were, winked out in a fateful instant like the flame of a candle. Finally, after several months, the war came to an end. The men who had gone to battle returned— or what was left of them.

The young man did not come to her. Overcome by worry, the nymph decided to approach the village in hopes of seeing him, even though she had always kept her distance from humans and their settlements. When she finally found his house amidst the multitudes of others, she hid in the trees of the garden and peeked inside.

She was overjoyed to see that her love was still alive, but her relief was short-lived. He had been grievously wounded, and his life was hanging by a thread. The healers of the village had done what they could, and all that was left was prayer. Incense burned around him night and day, while he lay on the bed, pale and unmoving.

The nymph's heart ached with longing and grief, such that she had never known in her long life. Tearful and distraught, she returned to her forest, determined to find some way to help him.

She searched for the other nymphs, much older and more experienced than her in the art of healing. None knew of a way to bring back someone that was only a breath away from crossing Hades’ rivers.

“Death cannot be healed,” they admonished her, “and it should not.”

The nymph listened to no one. She kept asking, kept searching. Only a dryad, knowledgeable and wise and older than the forest itself, her skin tough and leathery like an oak tree’s bark, knew of an answer. She told her of a herb, one that grew on Olympus’ highest peak. It was the rarest plant there was, unmatched in its potency. It could mend the deepest wounds, cure the most severe of illnesses.

"The gods guard their home well," the dryad warned her, "and do not tolerate trespassers. No one dares enter the Olympians’ realm without their consent. Anyone who does, must pay the price.” T he nymph thanked the dryad for her help. There was nothing else for her to do other than to brave the long and arduous journey to Mount Olympus.

She was quick and silent as she travelled, yet her movements did not go unnoticed. Zeus' eyes were on her long before she'd reached the foot of the mountain. For an oread, a mountain nymph, to leave the safety of her forest and travel such great distances, to cross rivers and plains and deep ravines and pass so close by so many human settlements was unheard of. So he watched, curious, and waited.

When the nymph reached the middle of the mountain, he disguised himself as a centaur, and presented himself to her. When asked where she was going, the nymph told him the truth:

"I have come to gather a herb, to heal the one I love. It grows on Olympus' highest peak."

Zeus was angered by her boldness, but her earnestness intrigued him more. He warned her, not unkindly,“If you continue on your quest, you will make the gods angry. They do not take kindly to such insults.”

The nymph thanked him for the warning, and continued on her way.

Zeus kept following her, taking on many disguises: a deer, a hunter, a satyr. Each time, he told the nymph the same thing, and she responded in the same way: she thanked him warmly, and continued.

When she finally reached the peak, and her satchel was filled with the precious herb, Zeus presented himself to her. He thundered and shone, blindingly bright, in all his menacing godly glory. I nstead of cowering before him, the nymph stood tall.

“I am aware that this is your land,” she told him, “and this plant belongs to you. Whatever price you command for it, I will gladly pay it.”

Zeus thought long and hard. The nymph’s insolence was unparalleled, but he found her bravery refreshing. In the end, he decided to let her go, allowing her to take with her not only the rare plant she had gathered, but also enough provisions for her journey home to Taygetus’ misty peaks.

The nymph returned to the young man’s village as swiftly as she could. In a matter of days, he had regained his full strength; he was lively and healthy again, as bright and fair as he had been before he had left for the war. They were both so glad, that their love shone like a midsummer sun.

It was then that Zeus reached down and plucked the nymph from the earth and her lover’s embrace. He placed her among the stars and tasked her with guarding the very plant she had stolen, for all time. Before he left, he set one of his fearsome eagles upon her, to make sure she would never shirk her duty.

The price for saving her lover’s life had finally been paid.

The Guardian star shines in the midst of the constellation of Aquila, Zeus’ eagle. The star shines the brightest during the summer months, when the plant is in full bloom.

Achilles let out a sigh after I had finished. The sky had darkened while I recounted the story, and the stars were now twinkling above us. We were lying on our backs on the sand, still warm from the sun that had been beating upon it all day.

“Olympians,” he muttered darkly, “and their cruelty.”

Many times before had Achilles expressed his dislike of the Olympians. The nereids were Titan-born, and the Titans had not been on good terms with the powerful and arrogant sons and daughters of Cronus for millennia. By the way Achilles’ brow furrowed whenever I told him tales of their many transgressions or fierce punishments of those who displeased them, I could tell that this animosity between the old and newer gods was far from forgotten.

“Why did not Zeus simply let her take the plant?” he asked. “He didn’t need it. He wouldn’t miss it. What could one mortal’s life have meant to him, in the grand scheme of things?”

“In truth," I said, "I do not think it was about the plant at all."

“What was it about, then?”

“Perhaps it was because the nymph attempted to hold on to something she was never meant to have," I told him earnestly. "She wasn’t meant to have a long and happy life with that man; he was dying. Nothing could change that other than this plant, and it was forbidden. She wished to avoid the pain of losing him, therefore she was punished."

Achilles frowned. "Anyone would wish to avoid that. That doesn’t sound like that serious of a crime to me.”

I took a breath, letting my gaze drift over the dark sky above. Achilles’ scent of ocean currents, of salt and sand filled my lungs, warming me. His hand was so close to mine, I could feel the faint heat emanating from his skin, yet I did not dare close the distance between us. Something held me back. It always did.

"Pain is only a natural consequence of living,” I said, and the words sounded dry to my ears, harsh. “Death, separation; those are the rules. Life is the exception. This is how it’s always been, for humans. If the souls in Hades’ halls were released, they could fill the earth ten times over— there are so many more souls down there than up here, an infinite supply of them. The only certainty for any mortal is that, one day, they will die. For gods, it’s different. Life is guaranteed; death is but an improbable outcome. The nymph wished to defy this rule, to give her lover something that wasn't hers to give, or his to keep. In so doing, she would have challenged the order of the world itself. It could not happen. The gods could not allow it.”

Achilles turned his head to look at me, his large, feline eyes piercing me to the core. The light brush of his breath against my shoulder sent a roll of warmth cascading through me.

“Do you think she shouldn’t have done it, then?”

I stayed silent for a moment, pondering his question. "That is not for me to say," I said after a short while. "I'm not sure it was a matter of choice for her. It is said that, when you love someone, you act to keep them with you for as long as you can." I shook my head lightly. "I have never loved someone like that before, the way the nymph loved this young man. But I think… I think I can imagine what it must have been like, for her.”

The truth was, I had never let anyone too close to me. I did not know what it was like, to care about someone deeply enough to risk everything to keep them by my side, the same way that no one had ever fought to keep me by theirs. My father had given me up when I was far too young to know the difference, and since then I'd had to largely rely on myself for my survival. I always tended to keep my distance from most people I met, and never lingered in any one place or ship for too long. Xanthos was my closest friend; we had known each other for years, but even he would go away for months at a time to return to his family, while I stayed at sea. I had always been alone, and I always told myself I preferred it that way.

I had thought my life peaceful, comfortable, even. A life of hard work and few luxuries, yet it was mine. I was a free man, depending on no one. I had thought myself content. It wasn’t until I had come close to losing my life in that storm, until I had found myself on this island, until I had met Achilles, that I realised how drab and colourless my life had truly been.

Achilles was looking up at the night sky now, his profile illuminated by starlight. The stars shone bright, like a multitude of silver pins on a dark blue canopy, keeping it in place. He lifted his arm, pointing at a cluster of stars right above us. "Is this the nymph's star?"

"No," I told him, "it's this one." I took his hand and moved it slightly to the left, until it was pointing right at the Guardian star, the smallest of the bunch.

He gazed at the star for a long moment. Then, he asked, "Whatever happened to the young man? The one she fell in love with?"

"I don't know," I replied. "That was where the story ended. I never learned the young man’s fate."

He sighed. “I would have liked to know what happened to him,” he said. “What his life was like, after the nymph was taken.”

“You would?”

"Yes." Achilles tilted his head to look at me. “It is the greater grief, after all, isn't it,” he said softly, “to be left behind when another is gone?"

The nightbirds cooed above us, and the chill breeze stirred the leaves of the cypress trees that lined the coast. The world was peaceful, and in the silence that lingered, I thought I could hear his heart beating, a quiet and steady thump between us. His skin reflected the pale moonlight, and in its feeble glow he looked very nearly transparent. When his eyes focused on me like this, soft and dreamy, almost wistful, I knew that I wanted nothing more than to be where they could see me.

I swallowed, willing myself to meet his gold-flecked gaze. Gods, I could drown in those eyes. I would gladly let their shifting currents swallow me whole.

"It is," I whispered.

Read the rest on Ao3!

#the song of achilles #tsoa #patrochilles #patroclus x achilles #achilles x patroclus #achilles #patroclus #achilles/patroclus #patroclus/achilles #tsoa fanfic #tsoa fanart #merman au #fall into your tide #johaerys writes

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min-youngis · 3 years

Text

breaking bread - l.dh

it's just me and my banners against the world

~ Pairing : Lee Donghyuck x Reader, non-idol

~ Genre : Fluff, Humour, Crack™

~ Summary : Does somebody want to be fake engaged to me for like two hours to try free wedding cake samples?

Strangers to Lovers

~ Word Count : 3.9k

~ Warnings : swearing, excessive simping over bread

~ A/N: looK AT HIM !!! i started writing this on my period but then my period got over before i could finish it so there's a steady decline in theatrics throughout the story.

i'd love to hear feedback, spread the love!

masterlist in my description.

The first time you pass the bakery, you’re with Hyejin.

It’s newly opened, you can tell. There are balloons hanging from the ceiling inside, and all the counters look bright and shiny. But it’s the smell that arrests you, your feet stalling of their own accord as you take a deep breath in; so deep, you’re on your toes by the time you finally decide to exhale.

Your friend doesn’t even realise you’ve stopped, continuing her story for her non-existent audience until she turns and sees you staring with alarming intensity at the new shop.

If you could, you’d sleep in the smell.

You feel a gentle palm on your shoulder, as she worriedly asks, “Y/N? You good?”

A dopey smile. “I’m perfect, thank you, and you?”

Slowly, you begin to inch toward the shop, almost creepily, not even looking at Hyejin when she snorts next to you at the fact that you’ve slipped into a food coma without even tasting any food.

You’re close enough to read the bright board on top of the counter now, nose nearly pressed right up to the glass as you ravenously go through the menu and prices.

If there were somebody behind the counter, they’d have born witness to all the stages of grief.

“Hyejin,” you moan lowly, agony apparent in your voice, hands now on the glass even as the smell assaults you more the closer you get. “Hyejin, we can’t afford this.”

Behind you, a firm hand wraps around your elbow. “I know, sweetie. I could have told you that from the font on the name board.”

You let out another broken groan, palms sliding down the glass dramatically as you take a last long look at the pastries lined up inside.

“There, there,” Hyejin comforts, tugging at your arm and rolling her eyes when you stop to inhale deeply one more time, the scent of fresh bread and sweetness filling your lungs. “I’ll buy you an ice-cream at that place next to the apartment, come on.”

It’s a crappy substitute, but you’ll take it if you don’t have to pay for it. You can’t forget the smell, though. It haunts you until you fall asleep that night; fresh and delectable and sweet.

The second time you pass the bakery, about a week later, you nearly give in. Nearly enter and order one of the pastries, like some kind of millionaire trust fund baby.

You’re alone, on the way back from a meeting, and there’s no Hyejin this time to be your voice of reason and to drag you away from your own impulsive decisions.

Dawdling on the sidewalk, you bend, pretending to tie your non-existent shoelace so the person manning the counter inside doesn’t get suspicious.

Your fingers still in their exaggerated movements as you let yourself take a deep breath in, sinking into the scent, shoulders actually drooping a bit as the smell of freshly processed dough fills your lungs.

It’s the sound of shoes slowing down and stopping close to you that snaps you out of it.

Too close.

Hurriedly, you stand up, shaking yourself out of your bread induced reverie. You had expected somebody to be staring at you in judgement, waiting to question you about why you’re pretending to tie shoelaces on sandals on the middle of the pavement; but all you see is a man standing a couple of feet away, speaking into a phone as his hands move dramatically in the air, frustration evident on his face.

In the clearing of your haze, you can tell he’s cute. No older than you, messy brown hair and a plain black t-shirt with ripped jeans. Really, your only complaint would be his attitude toward the bakery that you’re slowly beginning to regard as a legitimate place of worship. If he’s intent on swearing at some poor sod on the other end of the line, would it kill him to do it a few paces to the left? Away from this culinary haven?

He doesn’t seem to have noticed you, apparently comfortable with boring holes into the shop as he stands, and your plan to stall until he leaves so you can continue inhaling rarefied air doesn’t manifest in the next couple of minutes.

With a disgruntled look in his direction, (he keeps moving closer to the bakery, still shouting into his phone, and it’s beginning to annoy you), you inhale one last time, hope it sustains you until your next visit to this particular patch of pavement, and continue on your way home.

Day 3 involves a bench, a stranger and a revelation.

You’ve had a shit day at work, and it’s imperative that you’re reminded of the good things in life. The detour you take to ensure you pass the bakery on your way home is really self-preservation.

Strengthening your belief that only good things can happen on The Pavement, as you’ve come to fondly refer to it in your brain (and when you’re waxing lyrical to Hyejin, who just doesn’t get it), in a genius marketing move, there’s a bench that wasn’t there previously.

Right next to the entrance, facing the road, like in McDonald’s but without Ronald.

You try not to seem too excited at what’s basically an invitation for you to conduct your ritual, and casually slow down your pace as you near the area, trying to set up your subsequent action to seem like a nonchalant afterthought.

Until you spot the man again, walking in your direction. The same person whom you saw the other day desecrating the shop, and who cut short your...sniffing. And he’s walking toward you, making a beeline for the bench.

Screw nonchalant.

Subtly speeding up, you walk closer, noticing that he does the same thing.

Distantly, you’re amused at how the two of you have come to the same conclusion - that on an empty bench that can easily fit four people, only one of you can sit. Or maybe you’re competing for first, you aren’t sure.

You both reach at more or less the same time, exchange a stiff, polite smile that speaks volumes (yours says you won, his indicates the opposite), and sit down, leaving enough space in the middle to fit another person.

The first breath you take feels like being reborn.

Next to you, the Dude (which is what you christened him when you had ranted about his insensitivity and disrespect to Hyejin), is back to shouting at somebody on his phone.

You take yours out too, so you don’t seem pathetic. It isn’t like you’re stopping outside a bakery that you can’t afford just to smell bread on your way back from work.

At that moment, the shop doors open on your left, letting a customer out, and along with her, a strong, delicious waft of chocolate.

You’ve decided. This is heaven. This is where you’ll get married, and this is where you’ll ask your friends to bury you.

You’re soaking in the lingering after effects once the doors have swung closed, trying not to make your deep, quite frankly meditative breathing too obvious, while also trying to tune out the sound of the Dude ranting into his phone next to you, when you hear a mobile ring nearby.

And it isn’t yours.

You still. He stills. Marimba repeats one last, sad time and stops.

The thought forms through no conscious decision or effort of your own, slowly becoming more and more concrete.

You can feel him looking at you, as if waiting for you to call him out, and he opens his mouth to start talking at the same time as you do.

And then the door opens again, releasing another delectable whiff of sweet pastry, making the words stop at the tip of your tongue.

The two of you exchange a look, silent and full of gravitas, only breaking contact when he takes a deep breath and mutters, “Oh, shit, that’s so good.”

“Are you here for the smell as well?” Never in a million years did you think you’d say that.

He nods, sheepish smile on his face. “Yeah. I’ve been coming nearly every day for the last week.”

You can swear, in that moment, with his bucket hat and his baggy jeans and his now more obvious small sniffs, that you’ve never met a man so attractive in your life.

“This is my third time,” you reply, nodding in understanding even as a grin makes its way to your face unbidden.

His eyes twinkle, and you aren’t prepared for his next words. “I remember you from that evening when you were pretending to tie your shoelaces.”

“Were you faking the phone call then, too?”

“I was hoping you wouldn’t bring it up.”

Emboldened, you offer him your hand, weirdly endeared by the way his mouth curls up in a half-laugh. As he puts his palm in yours, you shrug, “No judgement. You gotta do what you gotta do, yeah?”

“Absolutely. I’m Donghyuck.”

“Y/N. Lovely to meet a fellow bread enthusiast.”

When you spend twenty minutes talking about the bakery that night to Hyejin over dinner (she’s come to expect it at this point), the Dude has a name, and isn't so much of a dick as you had initially thought.

"Y/N, no."

"Y/N, yes."

She huffs, exasperated, random wisp of hair on her face flying upwards before settling freakishly perfectly. "I am not pretending to be engaged to you for free cake."

You're equal parts pleading and frustrated as you tug at her arm again, curling up as close to her on the couch as possible and batting your eyelashes as enticingly as you can. "Please? Am I not your very favourite person in the world?"

"No."

"Top ten at the very least?" you ask, undeterred.

She gives you an unimpressed look, pries your hand off of her elbow and turns back to the television, pressing play on the sitcom.

You don't even know what you're watching. You've been too busy concocting your master plan the entire evening, ever since you had passed the bakery and seen the newly installed sign outside that said FREE WEDDING CAKE SAMPLES!

You didn't even linger on the pavement as long as you usually do.

(Okay, maybe you lingered a little bit, hoping to run into your new acquaintance, but you had a plan, goddammit, and you had to convince Hyejin of it as soon as possible.)

"Give it up, Y/N. It's wrong and deceitful, I'm not going to do it."

You move away like you've been burnt, offense writ large on your face.

"Wrong? It's for a good cause!"

You admit, you probably deserve the eye roll for your theatrics. Recognising a lost case when you see one, you sigh slowly, settling back against the couch and resigning yourself to a cake-less existence.

"Why don't you ask your new friend? Mr. Fellow Weirdo."

"His name is Donghyuck. And I've only spoken to him once."

She shrugs unsympathetically, letting it go; but in your brain, the gears are turning again.

What about Donghyuck?

It's come to a point where you're willing to start saving specifically for the express purpose of buying cake.

Every time you pass the shop, your resolve weakens and your fingers inch closer to your wallet. The only thing that stops you is the fact that the end of the month is nearing, and expenses will hit you like a ton of bricks.

But you've come up with the perfect routine now. Every Monday and Thursday, at exactly 6 PM, on your way back from work, you sit on the bench outside the bakery for fifteen minutes. You haven't met Donghyuck again, but paradoxically enough, the more you don't see him, the more inviting Hyejin's suggestion seems. Twice already, while conducting your ritual, you had decided that if he showed up that day before you left, you would propose the idea to him.

You're in a similar headspace this evening, already planning out a conversation in your head and how you can bring it up if you meet him without sounding completely creepy, when you hear the devil himself, interrupting your monologue.

"Hey! Been a while, huh?"

You smile as he sits down next to you, a bit startled at seeing him in person after having fake conversations with him in your head, but nod happily. "How have you been?"

"Good, yeah. A bit busy, so I haven't come around much. But man, it's good to be back."

And there, as you watch his eyes close briefly in satisfaction and his shoulders rise and fall slowly as he takes a deep breath in, content smile spreading on his face when the smell hits him, you decide that Hyejin is one smart cookie.

"Do you want to be fake engaged to me?"

Granted, it isn't your smoothest work. And it completely derails any and all pointers you had come up with in your head for this exact scenario, but he doesn't get scared off.

His eyelids do snap open, though, and his serene expression morphs into one of confusion, but with remarkable calmness, he asks, "Uh, excuse me?"

Without a word, you point at the blackboard standing outside the shop on the other side of the doors. They've added balloons with green chalk now, as decoration. You hope they're better at baking than they are at drawing.

You watch his face clear up, realisation dawning as his lips curve into a wicked grin, one you haven't had the absolute pleasure of witnessing before.

Somehow, you don't think Ms. It's-Wrong-And-Deceitful would approve of this Donghyuck.

"I like the way you think," he says approvingly, glint of mischief in his eyes.

You can't stop your own excited smile from appearing, as the possibility of actually being able to have a taste of what you've been dreaming about becomes more of a certainty.

"Okay, but we've got to figure some stuff out, though."

"Agreed," he replies, all business. "Gotta make it believable. Which is your favourite Shrek film?"

You barely manage to restrain yourself from snorting, but from the twinkle in his eye, you're certain that you're about as good of an actress as the bakery owners are artists.

Calming down, you clear your head. "Okay, but for real, though. Basic things. What's your last name?"

"Lee. Your favourite ice cream flavour?"

"Mint chocolate. No, I don't take constructive criticism."

He shuts his mouth abruptly, his obedient nod making you giggle. "What do you do, job-wise?"

"I work at a record store."

You can't hide the impressed look on your face, eyebrow cocking up. "Dude, that's super cool. I do freelance journalism."

He nods, filing away all the information to whip out later. “What’s our proposal story?”

“Uh, something simple so they don’t have too many questions. Just say one of us asked over dinner?”

“Cool, yeah, makes sense. Summer wedding?”

“Summer wedding,” you agree, nodding.

Really, it shouldn’t be so easy to come up with fake wedding planning details with a veritable stranger.

He straightens up, standing and offering you his upturned palm, mischievous grin making a reappearance. “Ready?”

“Yes, yes, a million times yes.”

His laughter at your exaggerated tone dissipates some of the nerves, as you feel his cool hand wrap loosely around your fingers. It’s time for the performance of a lifetime.

"Let's get this bread," he mumbles, pushing the door open.

You nearly slump at the first proper breath you take. As lovely as the air outside is, everything is so much more intense here. Your fake fiancé's hand flexes in yours slightly, and you know he's going through some kind of spiritual awakening as well.

If the man behind the counter hadn't spoken, you're sure the two of you could stand there forever, just breathing.

"Hi, how can I help you?"

You snap out of your haze, slowly squeezing Donghyuck's fingers to get him back. It's show time.

You plaster on the brightest smile you've got (it isn't hard), and walk with him to the counter.

"Hey! We saw your board outside, about the wedding cakes."

He nods before replying to Donghyuck's non-question question, smiling enough for you to feel a pang of guilt; but not enough to abort mission. "That's right. Are the two of you engaged?"

You nod enthusiastically, impatient to start tasting. Maybe you overdo a bit when you giggle and say, "Yes!" with the brightest, most in-love laugh that you can manage.

You hear a muted chuckle from next to you, and you hope Mark behind the counter (according to his name tag) passes it off as joy and excitement.

"The bakery smelt so good from the outside, that we just had to come in and see if we could get our cake and desserts for the ceremony from here."

With a fond smile, he says, "Why don't you take a seat there, and I'll bring out the samples. Are you looking for any particular flavour?"

If you weren't nearly vibrating at the fact that you're this close to finally tasting what you've been dreaming of for weeks, you would have snorted at Donghyuck's very enthusiastic 'No preference whatsoever, bring them all!'

"Is this really happening?"

He squeezes your hand, excited grin and devilish smirk fighting for prominence on his face as he sits down next to you, whispering back, "Fuck, yeah."

He comes back bearing a tray with two spoons and a bunch of plates, each one having a small slice of different coloured pastry on it. In the other hand, a pamphlet with options for customisation and tiers. You don't know how to tell him that you couldn't care less about how many levels a wedding cake should have.

The moment he sets the tray down on the table, right in between you and Donghyuck, and the smell of the mixture of flavours and bread assaults your senses, you have to do everything in your power to not begin inhaling everything, to not grab a spoon and dig into whatever you can get your hands on. From the stiffness of his shoulders next to you, you know that your fake-fiancé is having the same problem in self-restraint.

"If you're going for a summer wedding, I'd suggest the berry based flavours-" Mark points out one delectable section of the tray, "-and for winter, our customers prefer chocolate or coffee varieties."

Donghyuck throws a subtle wink in your direction (and looks damn good doing it), before he asks, anticipation clear on his face, "Where would you like to start, baby?"

The pet name throws you off for a second, and from his grin, you have a sneaking suspicion that he knows exactly what he's doing, but there's no time to analyse it now. There's a slice of red velvet directly under your nose that's practically begging to be eaten.

You're thankful for the customer that walks in at that moment, making Mark move away; you aren't sure how convincingly you can pretend to be a normal, engaged couple that hasn't been camping outside the shop for weeks once you've actually tasted the goods.

"Together?" Donghyuck asks, once you both have a spoon full of cake.

Nodding firmly with a grin, you count down from three.

The first bite renders you blank. The literal definition of no thoughts, head empty as the flavour bursts in your mouth, your eyes closed and spoon stuck inside. Next to you, you hear a borderline pornographic moan, but you'll be the last person to call him out on it.

Before you know it, you’ve dug your spoon into the cake again, right as he does the same, and you’re chewing another bite, practically floating in serenity.

It’s mostly silence as the two of you make your way through the ten odd pieces of pastry on the table, only punctuated by satisfied sighs and muttered ‘Oh, fuck’s, and you feel like you’re having an out-of-body experience, here in this expensive shop with your fake-fiancé who has the same (perfectly normal) enthusiasm for bread as you.

“I can’t believe we thought sitting outside was good enough when this exists,” Donghyuck says after swallowing a large bite of chocolate raspberry truffle. His eyes shine in satiated glee, fingers tapping a steady, restless staccato beat against the surface of the table as he chooses the next slice to taste.

Tucking your spoon into the strawberries and cream flavour that’s quickly become your personal favourite, you nod enthusiastically. “Very glad I met you. Who knows how long I would’ve sat outside otherwise, living unfulfilled, believing my life was complete?”

His chuckle makes the cake in your mouth taste sweeter.

You lick off your spoon once you’re finally done a few minutes later, audibly huffing as you settle against the back of the chair, satisfied. Next to you, Donghyuck does the same.

“You’ve got some icing on your face,” he observes, settling his spoon down and handing you a tissue.

“Here?”

“A little to the left.”

“Here?”

Wordlessly, you watch as he brings his hand up and lightly taps the left corner of your mouth, pad of his index finger gently grazing your commissure, heat from his hand lingering for a just a second before he pulls away, his gaze suddenly holding a little less mischief and a little more intensity, and his knee briefly knocking into yours under the table as he tilts his body toward you.

You almost don’t want to wipe off the icing, but you make sure not to break eye contact when you do, the faint sugar rush making you bolder.

“Oh, you guys are cute! Were you able to pick a flavour?”

You’re startled at Mark’s sudden reappearance, uncharacteristically flustered as Donghyuck smiles brightly and smoothly replies, “They were all incredible, thank you. We’d like to try some other places and then decide. We’ll let you know!”

You think you see a faint air of suspicion around Mark when you follow Donghyuck’s lead and stand up, and for good measure, you make sure to grab his hand while walking out, fingers easily tangling together. To his credit, he shows no surprise, playing along unceremoniously and even going so far as to lightly swing his arm as you open the door and step out.

Leading the way a few steps away from the shop, once you’ve ensured that Mark won’t be able to see you, you let go.

It’s all a little awkward. What do you say to break up a fake engagement?

“We can never go back in there without disguises again, that’s for sure.”

That should do it.

“Think he’ll notice it’s me if I wear a fake mustache?”

The shared laughter at his comment lasts for maybe ten seconds before it’s back to a vaguely uncomfortable silence. You know this is it. You know you both probably won’t meet again because you’re done with this bakery. Why are you finding it so challenging to say goodbye?

He opens his mouth slightly, looking a bit unsure even as he begins to talk, that same intense look in his eyes making a return.

“There’s a small restaurant they’ve just opened near my apartment with a Valentine’s day two-for-one offer. Do you want to maybe see if we can get away with it again?”

His voice pitches up hesitantly towards the end of it, as if mimicking your subtly quickening heartbeat.

“Or,” you start, shy smile creeping onto your face as you slowly take your phone out and hand it over to him to enter his number. “We could make it a real date, and have a meal with no moral repercussions.”

That night, when you tell Hyejin your story (which is decidedly more interesting than all your previous stories combined, according to her), the Dude has a name, a cute face and a discount lunch with you next week.

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