#catch me crying in the chapel (my room)

[septembersghost]

[seraphicsentences]

all mine (pt.2)

closeted/in denial abby anderson x reader

pt.1: you told me your new man don’t make you nut, that’s a damn shame.

please click here!

tags: sub!abby, dom!reader, experienced!reader, mentions of owen, tbh trauma from owen, strap-on sex, cunnilingus, 69ing, dry humping, grinding, nonexplicit masturbation, lowkey voyeurism+exhibitionism ish? there’s plot i swear.

A/N: im well aware that i apologize in every post i make and that its redundant, but im still sorry that i took forever to write.

so. some of this may sound a little familiar from the first part, but it’s simply just drawing parallels between abby’s and your stances on one another.

this gets gradually worse and worse. i think the quality started landsliding once i reached the smut. enjoy!

it’s been near ‘round a week later, and abby’s avoiding you like the fucking devil. in fact— by the way she’s been acting, you think she might even believe so. she’s never felt so inexplicably thrown off. clickers, bloaters… couple of well-aimed shots and they’re no deal. but you? the ghost of your touches haunt her day and night. she’s like a woman possessed. and she’s insatiable.

her once weekly visits to the chapel have become daily: hour-long stays spent on her knees, prayers whispered hastily under her breath, eyes darting to paranoically try to catch potential eavesdroppers.

even owen, the air-headed asshole, has been left victim, or perhaps victor, to the effects of your actions. in a desperate attempt to ease her whirling mind, or rather, to ease the painful throbbing between her thighs, abby’s seemed to have turned to her boyfriend as a last ditch effort.

abby’s newfound flood of arousal, pooling and pleading, only to be met by owen’s two incher every night have had his ego blowing up fucking obnoxiously.

“god, abby, you’re fuckin’ desperate for my dick lately,” he’d gloat, hilariously blind to his girlfriend’s infidelity.

unfortunately for abby, her pathetic resorts have done nothing to quiet the moaning mess of guilt-filled memories. if anything, they’ve done quite the opposite.

she’s been left to the mercy of her palm, heel of it digging into her clit while she’s beside the sleeping figure of owen, straining every massive muscle in her body to give her that orgasm she so badly needs.

it’s to no avail, though. stuck gasping and tearing up against a pillow, her poor pussy crying for some semblance of relief. and what’s left is a week-long edged abby anderson, ms. “top soldier”, who’s back to shooting no better than a freshly new recruit.

what’s up with that, hm?

~

2am now, in the isolated west dormitory’s showers, and abby’s at it again. her body starving for your touch; your sinful, corrupting, addictive touch, and she’s failing to appease her needs once more.

“mmph- fuck, ah-please,” abby begs into her forearm, groaning as two thick fingers plunge deep into her sopping hole, thrusting in and out messily.

it’s exhausting to fuck the way you do. even with her arms the impressive size they are, it’s impossibly demanding to reach every nerve you had reached, filthy sounds echoing along the tile walls, taunting her.

abby knows what’s coming, or really, the lack of it.

skin pink from the heat of the water, she abandons her effort, shutting the stream off with a squeak and ventures the locker room to get dressed for the night.

her mind wanders to you— that’s all it ever seems to do as of recently, and she thinks about how she almost misses your antics. she can’t place her finger on what it is exactly about you that makes her chase every teasing interaction so masochistically.

maybe it’s your lopsided smile that lures her in, or that glint in your eye she gets caught up in. or maybe it’s just that she knows she shouldn’t want you, and it’s so deliciously wrong, and that’s why she’s got to have you.

towel flung over her shoulder, abby makes her way out, only to stop in her tracks when she hears the loud slam of a locker door.

what the fuck? wasn’t the bathroom empty when she last checked??

cheeks burning at the mistaking of her privacy, she swivels the corner, furious to see who the fuck else is using the west dorm showers at this hour. of all the hours.

and, well, abby’s frozen in place when she’s met with the sight of a mystery someone’s bare back. but oh, how she recognizes you, you and your wet hair, slinging droplets down your smooth skin, trailing lower and lower and-

you cough, breaking her trance. baby blue eyes dart up, caught, as you slide your tank on, smirking.

“hey, anderson.”

that just about does it for her. abby slams an open locker door shut, almost sprinting out of the room.

and really, there’s no choice but for you to follow her, practically hunting her down as she sharply turns down random hallways, clearly attempting to outrun you. abby makes a wrong turn soon enough, and you honestly think you might burst out into laughter because of the funny way fate seems to string the two of you together.

the blonde’s backed herself into a corner, and it just so happens to be your residential corner. you can’t help but wonder if she already knew where your room was located.

“scared, anderson?” slips out of your mouth, and it feels significant, reminiscent of the week before. you stare her down, wet strands clinging to her skin to match yours, and it’s like the two of you know what’s to come with your words. the inevitable.

you’re not sure which one of you moves first, rubber band of tension snapping as your lips collide in a catastrophic sort of way. you’re scrambling to blindly dial your dorm code in and tugging abby by her shirt in a tangle of limbs and saliva.

“i’ll play nice,” you pant, “even after that disappearing stunt you pulled last week.”

abby laughs, whispering, “whoops,” under her breath before pulling you in for another dizzying kiss, tongue eagerly curling into your mouth like she’s been waiting years for a taste.

you wrap your fingers around her hair with a tug, and the low groan that escapes from the back of abby’s throat has you repeating the motion again and again as you veer her backwards to fall atop your bed. you follow, straddling her, not wanting to spend a second apart from the fucking drug that her mouth is.

your hips grind down on their own, burning and desperate for stimulation. abby, in return, wraps a strong hand around your throat, pulling you even deeper into a sloppy kiss to swallow your moans as she pushes her hips up to meet yours.

“fuck,” you gasp, clit catching against the seam of your shorts with every roll.

abby’s mind has gone blurry with arousal, drunk off the satisfaction of finally getting what her body’s begged for. every pretty noise that slips out of your mouth sends pulses of pleasure straight through her bundle of nerves, and every touch of skin has her feeling set ablaze.

but as always, she needs more.

she maneuvers you easily under her big frame, your head tipping back in a soft whine as she latches herself onto your throat, biting and soothing your skin over.

she’s lodged a leg in between your own, mimicking your position as she wildly bucks her hips down onto you. “please,” she breathes out, tears welling in her eyes with how foreign this feeling is. she can’t bring herself to care about how needy she’s acting, because to starve, is to take anything.

“just like that, baby, you’re soaking my thigh,” you coo, continuing to dry hump her leg like she’s nothing but a toy to you. the whimper she lets out at the name you call her is downright criminal, and the way her movements pick up have you groaning it out again. “c’mon baby, make a mess of yourself for me,” you grab her meaty hips, grinding her harder down against you.

“gonna-“ she gasps into your neck, before shuddering against you as she cums with a cry, muscular thighs holding you so desperately tight in place. you almost scream, caught in the iron grip she has your body in, stopped so close to your own finish. you dig your nails into the flesh of abby’s hips, hearing her moan as the pain mixes with pleasure, and echo the sound yourself as the burning in your core starts up again.

“just let me, for a minute- i need you- just stay here, shit,” you ramble, gripping her hair for leverage while you fuck yourself faster against her thigh.

every twitch of a muscle beneath your soaked pussy has you reeling, unable to wrap your mind around what a massive fucking crime it is, for another woman not to have experienced the absolute blessing it is to have abby anderson’s defined-ass thigh to grind on.

you glance down at abby, and the fucked-out expression she has on, all watery doe-eyed as she peers up at you, mesmerized, has you throbbing enough to match your heart rate.

curse after curse flies out of your mouth as she attaches her mouth to your neck again, biting down as you let go of that coil tugging on your navel.

abby’s no sooner clambering atop you, diving in to taste your sounds as she scoops you onto her lap, practically growling, “fuckin’ get over here,” under her breath.

as your vision returns, she attacks your mouth with a sloppy kiss, colliding teeth, and you’re unbearably hungry for more.

“let me- i’m gonna taste you,” you breath out, shoving abby’s back down with a push.

she falls back with a soft thud, eyes not leaving you once. “please, fuck- taste me, have me,” abby affirms, scrambling to tug her shorts off.

the massive soaked patch at the center her boxers have your eyes rolling into your skull. “shit, anderson,” you run a finger over her clothed slit, giggling as she jerks her hips up.

“shut up,” she rasps, her words harsh, but the small smile on her face says otherwise.

you grin up at her, “didn’t say anything,” before licking a fat stripe up her covered pussy.

her response is immediate, hands fisting into your hair to pull your mouth closer, actions the epitome of more, more, more.

you flatten your tongue, licking, and meshing her arousal with your saliva to entirely soak her boxers wet. you wrap your lips around where you guess to be her clit, based off the place her legs tremble when your tongue reaches it, and suck hard.

“there,” abby whines out, back flying off the mattress, and you’re so very desperate to see what other fun reactions she has in store for you, you grab at her waistband to unveil her pretty dripping pussy.

up close, face to face, you get to really admire the work of art she is. the divets of muscle adorning her thighs frame her pussy almost in a greek-goddess sort of way. light brownish-blonde curls of hair that reach out to your mouth, trying to pull you in closer. she’s beautiful. you’re in complete control of her right now, and holding the reins of such an unreal being has you groaning into her slick eagerly, hands holding her spread wide open while you feast.

you’re dipping your tongue into her sopping mess, teasing and thrusting, feeling her gummy walls flutter around every brush of the muscle. you dart a thumb up to circle her puffy clit, red, from her earlier actions, and the way abby’s legs kick up— almost hitting you in the face, has you giggling again into her pussy. the vibrations of your laugh make abby squeal, thighs clamping around your head, and then she’s tugging at your hair, chanting, “stopstopstopstop,” and you, of course, oblige immediately.

your face comes up covered in her wetness, arousal dripping from your chin as you lick your lips in an halfhearted attempt to clean yourself up. “sorry, sorry, i- did you want me to stop?” you ramble, concerned that you might’ve gone a little too far this time, getting yourself involved with a taken straight girl.

abby’s face flushes a deep red, even darker than it had been from your actions, as she catches her breath and looks away. “no, i- can you, uhm.”

you catch on to her hesitation, newer to sex thats more than just, well, dick. you rub her calves soothingly, “use your words, baby, you got it.”

she visibly gulps, thighs pressing tight around your body, “can i?” she asks, almost sulkily as her hands move to tug at your shorts.

“oh-!” slips out of your mouth, surprised, “yeah, yeah you can.”

she lets out a soft okay, tugging harder now, slipping her calloused fingers under your waistband as well so as to drag both down together. abby’s groans, low and heady, at the sight of your glistening pussy, practically dripping down your thighs from just getting her off. “this too,” she murmurs, sliding your tank off before you can blink.

she’s pulling you in closer, as if she’s in a trance, as she wraps her lips hesitantly around one of your perked nipples. the high-pitched sigh you let out is more than enough encouragement for her to continue, warm tongue flicking at it as she sucks around your breast. “is this okay?” she pulls away to whisper, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear as she looks up at you, eyes wide.

“fuck- yes, just,” you push her head back in, her lips abiding immediately as they gently pull at your nipple, teeth grazing the most sensitive parts of your chest as you arch your back into it, quiet moans ringing in her air.

all of a sudden you’re being turned around, confused, until your hips are being lifted up towards abby’s stuck-out tongue and you’re shaking with your face pressed to her thigh while she experimentally kitten-licks around your hole, unknowingly teasing you.

her nose brushes ever-so-slightly over your pulsing clit as her tongue passes just over your dripping mess, and it has you crying out, “there, please- right there, please,” breath hot over her own throbbing pussy.

her hips jerk up at the sensation, and you take the hint— latching your lips around her own clit and stuffing two fingers easily into her hole, moaning at the feeling of her squeezing tight around you.

it’s no wonder abby’s the top soldier of wlf. for a girl who’s only ever been with the most lacking, vanilla man ever, she picks up fast. each action of yours is borderline self-serving, with the way abby’s mimicking every move not even a moment after, so adorably eager to please.

abby had this insistent need to pull every pretty sound from you, whether she got it through grazing her teeth against your clit, or curling a thick finger against your g-spot, she was determined to hear it— to the point where you thought she might’ve even needed it. and it’s what made sex with her so intoxicating.

she wasn’t like any of the other girls you typically hooked up with, and that’s not to say the girls you usually got with were bad to fuck… they just weren’t as invested in your pleasure as you were with theirs. and as the type to get off on giving rather than receiving, this was especially new. you’ve never been with someone like you. and god, does it take the cake.

abby’s really coming to terms with all the ways she can use her especially large everythings to make you feel good, murmuring into your pussy, “‘m fuckin’ splitting you open with my fingers, pretty,” as she pushes in a third finger to your sopping hole, relishing in the squelch that comes with the thrust.

your thighs shake around her head, stimulated beyond compare as you continue your ministrations on abby’s pussy, humming mhms into it to encourage more of her bolder ventures.

“mm-fuck, can feel you choking my fingers. you gonna cum, hm?” she mumbles cockily, the high from your reactions sending her mind into a frenzy.

“shit, please, need it so bad,” you croak out, taking only mere seconds apart from tonguing down her puffy clit.

“ah- god, me too, pretty. cum on my tongue,” she says, and the fucking vulgarity of it, so downright shocking to hear from ms. straight christian prude over here, has you riding your orgasm out, trembling heat overtaking your body like a california wildfire. matched moans come from beneath you, as abby’s hips fuck up against your mouth, legs flexing deliciously as the two of you reach your peaks together, the world slowing.

you slide your body off of hers, turning around to be met with a sight to behold. your cum, all over abby’s mouth, shining on the tip of her nose, remnants leaked onto her chin— and you have not a doubt you look the same mess. you yank her into a sloppy kiss, fluids mixing in your mouths in the most animalistic nature.

“i’m not done with you,” you say, eyebrows scrunched as you take in her fucked-out expression.

“i know,” she whispers, “give me more,” she breathes out.

abby slips out of her tank, finally, using the cloth to gently wipe your face and hers, action a bit too intimate for what you guys have, but neither of you decide to call out on it.

“you gonna let me fuck you?” you ask quietly, running a hand over her chest softly, enamored, as abby shivers from your words.

“please fuck me,” she whimpers, tone all pouty and petulant as she watches your hand trace ambiguous shapes over her skin.

“so polite,” you tease lightly, pulling her in for a brief kiss before reaching over to your bedside drawer and pulling out your favorite strap, just the one for the special girl in front of you.

8 inches, hot pink, with a slight curve to it, but most importantly, never been used on anyone other than yourself, by yourself.

“it’s so-“ she stutters nervously, thighs rubbing together in anticipation as you secure the toy onto your hips.

“pretty?” you finish, unable to help your laugh as she looks at you, so clearly not thinking of your response.

“yeah,” she shrugs, “suppose it is.”

it’s quiet in the room as you finish latching the silicone dick onto yourself, the two of you settling into the weight of your impulse-fueled actions.

you gently pull open her closed legs, settling yourself between them as you tease her entrance with the tip of the toy, covering it with her cum. you then spit down onto it, twisting your hand around to coat, and hear abby ask, “what’re you doing?”

you continue to prep the toy with easy motions, committed by memory, “i know you’re soaked, anderson, but it’s still a dick you’re taking, baby.”

“i just mean- i, you know,”

you hum, “owen doesn’t put in the effort, huh? and i bet you’re not even a quarter as wet for him as you are for me,” scoffing.

“don’t-“

“it’s the truth though, isn’t it?”

“…yeah.”

“that’s what i thought.”

you thumb her clit in circles, using her slick as lube to rub over it smoothly, relishing in the way abby’s head falls back and her hips jolt up. “that’s it, ease up for me,” you murmur.

you prod again at her entrance with the toy, sliding the tip in slightly as she hisses, “‘m sti-still sensitive.”

“and you’re gonna take it like the fuckin’ slut you are, anderson, aren’t you?” you tsk, pushing a couple inches more into her.

“shit- yes, yes ma’am,” she whimpers out, legs threatening to close from the new stretch.

“because even after all that time in the shower, nothing can fill you like i do,” you finish, thrusting the full length of you into her tight pussy, abby nodding repeatedly as her back arches up.

her moans pick up alongside your hips, voice breaking with every thrust as you push into that one sensitive spot deep inside with obvious expertise.

“so, s-so go-od,” she cries, hands gripping into the bedsheets as she searches for some tie back to reality.

you smirk satisfactorily, fast pace fueled by the sight of abby’s open mouth, drool spilling out the sides as her voice grows hoarse from constant use. you fuck her hard, strength channeled from the anger you bore against her homophobic attitudes, and jealousy you garnered towards owen and his idiotic male self.

you lock your eyes with abby, sweat dripping down your face as you zero down on her, slamming into her pussy with no reprieve. “no more owen,” you say, each word punctuated by another deep thrust.

“this is so wrong, this is so fucked,” abby rambles, nervous eyes darting around the room so as to avoid your gaze. her eyebrows are tugged together, head shaking no: but no to argue your words, or no to agree with them?

“has something so wrong ever felt so good?” you pant out, “tell me baby.”

“i can’t, i can’t, i can’t,” she repeats, torn between what felt right in her head, and what felt so right in her heart. “turn me over,” she babbled, not wanting to head-on face the fucking sin-filled act she was committing.

“you tried running, baby. and how’d that work for you?” you ask, fed up. “you’re still back here, a fucking mess, and all for me.”

“what’s it gonna take for you to face the fact that you’re getting fucked by a girl, and it’s so much better than anything you’ve ever experienced?”

abby’s eyes scrunch tight, trying to tune you out, but her moans still wrench out from the back of her throat, guttural and unstoppable.

you slide out finally, earning you a soft whine of disagreement, toy dripping with her slick with the tip pressed against her folds. “look at me, abby.”

and fuck. she’s never taken notice to the fact that you’ve never said her name before—but god does it sound so pretty coming out of your mouth. and god is it enough to make her wrestle her eyelids open and stare you dead in the eyes, blue clashing with the darkness you reeked in.

“say that again,” she whispers, look full of pleading. 4 letters, 2 syllables, but it has her core tensing and her heart racing a mile.

“tell me you’re mine, abby,” you breath, and she almost finishes right there and then.

“i’m yours,” she says, a single tear breaking free from her right eye, baptizing her skin, absolving her of guilt.

“good,” you choke out, bottoming entirely into her as she releases a cry. your movements quicken, ravenous, chasing the sweet whines that fill the room.

abby’s tits bounce with each thrust, and you reach down to give her sensitive nipples a pinch, making her reach an all time new height of pleasure. her chest heaves, curses slur, as she squirms under your touch, nearing an unbearably overstimulated state.

“feels- gonna cum,” she moans, barely holding on.

“cum for me,” you demand, needing to see her fall apart now more than ever as you pound into her harder, fingers rubbing harsh circles into her clit.

“s-shit,” she gasps, throwing her head back as her walls tighten around the toy, “‘m- fuck, god- fuck! ‘m cumming!”

loud squelching noises overtake the room, complete with the sight of abby writhing beneath you as spurts of her juices drench your moving cock.

her chest heaves, mouth open in a silent scream as she comes down from her high, squirming with overstimulation.

you can see the moment her brain clicks, panic in her eyes clear as her skin turns pasty white.

“i’m so sorry i didn’t mean to do that i don’t know how-“

“abby.”

“-that happened ive never done that before, like who-“

“abby.”

“-fucking pisses on someone like that i’m so sorry ill clean it-“

“ABBY.”

her eyes shoot up to meet yours, frame cowering as she mumbles a quiet apology again, so obviously uneducated in the realm of half-decent orgasms.

“you squirted, abby, you didn’t piss on me for christ’s sake. it was hot. now don’t worry about it, i’m very honored,” you chide lightly, cradling abby’s heated face in your hand.

you stand up, grabbing a clean towel and wetting it with warm water from your kettle. striding over, you spread abby’s legs lightly, running the towel gently over her worked-out center, breath hitching, hips jerking with your touch.

“why are you- you don’t have to-“ abby stutters, grabbing your wrist.

you pause, confused. “abby, i’m not a fucking dick, contrary to belief,” you scoff.

she doesn’t let go. “no that’s not what i- i didn’t mean it like that, it’s just, you know.” she waits for you to look up at her, before looking away. “you don’t have to fuss over me.”

a laugh bubbles out of you before you can stop it. “you mean owen doesn’t-? yeah, who am i kidding, of fucking course he doesn’t ‘do aftercare,’ god, what a dick!” you groan, facepalming.

“abby, baby, this is fucking normal. owen just sucks,” you smirk, her cheeks flushing at your words. “let me take care of you,” you continue more softly, nudging her grip off as you drag the towel over her sternum next, cleaning off any remnants left from the two of you.

abby’s quiet now, eyes following your every movement, curious almost, a bit hesitant— as if she’s not sure what to do with herself in the meanwhile. she’s stiff to the touch, frame shrunken now due to the sheer vulnerability of it all. bare as the day she was born, and touched like she’s never done wrong a minute in her life.

she doesn’t know how to feel about it. wisps of hair tickle her nose, and so she scratches it, pushing her hair away, tugging it behind her ears. and you’re right there on it, wordlessly turning her around as you begin to comb through her hair loosely, pulling it into a simple braid. the same hairstyle she displays everyday, always done by her own hand: tight, knot-free, and burning into her scalp. a reminder to remain true to her virtues, live by strict rules, and not stray from the lord’s path.

but the way you braid is so different. you’re careful to tie in the tickling wisps, but not harsh. effective, but not pushing. with owen she feels like an accessory, but you make her feel like someone worth worshipping. and so, the only burning she feels is not on her scalp, but behind her eyes.

you do notice the subtle tremble in abby’s shoulders, droplets trickling down her cheeks as you weave her hair through, but you make no comment on it. certainly not with the way your own hands fumble her golden strands, fingers shaking into the knots. you tie the end of it up.

“i should go,” abby whispers, standing to grab her scattered clothes.

you remain seated, mouth opening and closing like a fish, as your lips struggle to wrap around the words your heart is singing out for.

you settle on one.

“stay,” you blurt, louder than you intended, the word ringing in the tense air.

abby freezes, hand outstretched towards her tossed shirt. her head edged just the slightest bit towards you, like subconsciously, she was waiting for you to say something.

“just- stay,” you whisper this time, more unsure. waiting for the rejection you know is to come. and while your brain is screaming for you to let her go, your eyes are hooked onto abby’s figure— searching intently for the smallest signal of her response.

you see her breath catch in her throat.

“okay,” she whispers back, and her head turns just enough for your gazes to lock, matched desperation surging.

she’s drawn back to the bed like a magnet pulled to its twin, the mattress dipping as she settles in the space beside you.

and abby feels the heat of your drilling stare, one she refuses to return. she has no more fire left in her, not for you, just contemplation. a longing for more, an urge to savor, an ache to feel.

so abby faces the door, and you face her back, waiting for the day she’ll turn around.

so what did we think guys?!?? this was 4.7k words. crazy.

ok. so notice the tear coming from her right eye during that whole end part of the sex. note that it came from her RIGHT eye. scientifically speaking, that’s a tear of joy. BOOOOOOM MIC DROP.

i, unfortunately, shot for the stars and tried to make this deeper. hard to do that when you’re not in touch with your emotions. so now you guys are stuck being confused. good luck!

anyways. the final scene is supposed to represent where they metaphorically stand in their relationship. reader is trying to bond with abby, or at least making an effort to, hence her facing abby. abby can’t come to terms with all this, but she’s trying! she’s not fully accepted the homosexual part of herself though, the side that comes out with reader, so she’s facing the door. FACING IT, not leaving through it. ;)

also, yes, owen goes in dry. it’s canon. do not come at me.

taglist:

@pricefieldsuperiority @heartlexs @graviewaviee @liaphrodite @k1ngpin42 @deadbolted @be3flow3r @mrsabbyanderson

@rob1nbuckl3ys @vivispace @bookpagecandlescent

@thelosstvalkyrie for photo creds ty baby <3

[cameronspecial]

Ghost Of A Memory

Pairing: Dad!Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Loss of a Spouse During Childbirth and Grief

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.9K

Summary: All Rafe wants are memories of his family, but sometimes he has to remind himself that he can't have that.

Masterlist

The warm summer sun glows across Rafe’s pale skin, kissing it so that it will soon tan his skin a darker shade. Laughter fills the air and a sappy face falls on Rafe’s face as his eyes fall on the sight of his wife and daughter on the playground. Hannah is climbing the ladder on a mission to go down the slide again; Y/N is waiting for her baby girl at the bottom of the slide to catch her. Hannah plops her butt onto the plastic contraption and squeals in delight as she zooms toward her mother. He finishes laying out the sandwiches on the plates and calls out to his girls, “Lunch is ready.” Y/N keeps her daughter in her arms, taking them both to the picnic blanket, where their lunch is laid out on it. “Salami, tomato, arugula and garlic cream cheese for me. Cheese and lettuce for Little Lady. And turkey, lettuce, tomato, and Havarti for my love,” Rafe announces, pointing to everyone’s meal as he lists the ingredients. Y/N leans forward to kiss his cheek, “Thank you for getting this all ready, Handsome.” Rafe’s cheeks warm like they always do at the nickname. It’s such a basic nickname, but coming from her, it makes him feel like he can do a thousand backflips one after the other. Hannah throws herself into her dad’s arms with her own thank you directed towards him.

The family finishes their food and Hannah is invited to play ball with a boy around her age. Y/N rests her head on Rafe’s shoulder as they both watch their daughter play with her new friend. “I think we should have another one,” she whispers to him. He beams at the idea and presses his lips to her temple, “I think I would love to have another one. Maybe a little boy with your hair and my eyes this time.”  “Hmm, that sounds like a great idea,” she agrees. Hannah lets out a scream in delight, except the longer it goes on, the more it starts to sound like a cry.

———

Rafe wakes up with a jerk into a sitting position. He rubs his eyes with the palms of his hands as he looks around the dark room. Hannah stands in her crib in the corner of the room, rattling against the bars with her cries. Her father swings his feet over the side of the bed and pads over to her. She reaches her arms up toward him and he picks her up. He brings her to his chest, letting her nuzzle his neck. “Shh, it’s okay. I’m right here, Little Lady,” he soothes. He bounces in hopes of providing her with some sort of comfort. He is so tired, yet he can’t go back to sleep because it seems as though Hannah doesn’t want to sleep. He presses his lips against her forehead, “Please, Little Lady, go back to sleep. Daddy is tired.” He tries to see if she is hungry and quickly learns that she isn’t. “What can I give you so you can go to sleep?” he begs, picking up her stuffed penguin. The penguin is rejected, so he tries offering her her blankie. Hannah screeches and throws it on the ground in dissatisfaction. His eyes dart around the room in search of anything that will appease the bebe. Finally, he spots what he thinks is going to cease the crying.

He picks up the fading navy zip-up sweater and wraps it around his daughter's shoulders. The nine-month-old immediately calms, snuggling into the fabric of the hoodie. Rafe sighs, “I know. I miss her too.” He sits in the rocking chair opposite the crib. He looks at the empty spot on the bed beside his, drawing in the figure that should be there for himself. The woman creating a dip in the bed sits up and gives him a lazy smile. “Did she wake up? I don’t know how I slept through her cries. Is she hungry?” Y/N mumbles, standing from the bed. Her footsteps drag against the floor to stand in front of them. He grins up at her, “It’s okay. I figured out what she wanted. It was your Chapel Hill sweater.” He lifts Hannah up a bit so Y/N can see the school logo on the back. “That makes sense,” she agrees. “She’s always been a Mama’s girl.” Rafe chuckles, “So true. I can’t blame her though. She has a pretty amazing mom.” Y/N leans over to kiss her family members and he closes his eyes to embrace the feeling, but just as her skin is supposed to make contact with his, the daydream he is creating for himself dissolves. Instead of the feeling of her lips, he gets a kiss from the wind and he opens his eyes with furrowed eyebrows.

The room is void of any other human being, except for Hannah in his arms. He looks over to the other side of his bed and finds it empty. Likes it has been for the last nine months. The room lacks air and Rafe begins to hyper-ventilate. His immediate thought is to get up to look for the missing link in the room. And then he finally remembers that his dreams can only ever be the ghost of a memory he never gets to make because the love of his life never made it out of the hospital with their baby girl. 

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming

[sissylittlefeather]

How the Web Was Woven: The End

A/N: This. This series is my Mona Lisa, my Sistine Chapel, and these final brush strokes literally tore me apart. I poured my soul into this one. If you hate it, please don't tell me. But if you love it, please do because this is my everything. I hope it's enough.

Need to catch up? Masterlist

Warnings: mentions of death, illness, reference to sex, I think that's all.

Word count: ~2.5k

Four and a half years. That's all you have left. It's not enough.

******

The years slip away with Elvis going back and forth every couple of months like he did before. The kids get older, you get older, and Elvis gets older too. Every time he leaves, it tears out another piece of your heart knowing it's getting closer and closer to the last time you'll see him. He's in good spirits every time he visits, but it's hard not to notice his body declining. Making a portal to send him home gets harder and harder, but he still maintains that he's fine. You both know he's not, but what is there to do about it?

And then, before you know it, it's July of 2027, or 1977 for him. John Jessie is 10, Erin Love is 7. Your babies have been replaced with kids and your youthful, vigorous husband is replaced with a man you know is past his prime. He doesn't know it, but you do. He has a little over a month left and you find yourself falling apart at the smallest things. He kisses the back of your hand while you all watch a movie together and you have to get up and go to the bathroom to weep. He sings in the shower and you lay in your bed and rock your body while the tears stream down your cheeks. You drive to dinner with him in the backseat of your minivan between the kids watching a movie on the little screen that comes down from the ceiling of the car and when he laughs you almost have to pull over to keep from crashing as you drive with teary eyes.

He stays with you for a full three weeks because you continue making excuses to keep him around. You need him to help with this or the kids have something going on that he should be there for. In reality, you can't bear the thought of saying goodbye. Because this time you know it's really going to be goodbye. And you can't tell him, so he'll treat it like any other parting. He'll kiss your cheek and say "until next time, honey" like he always does.

But you know there won't be a next time. And the knowing is eating you alive.

In early August, a summer thunderstorm rips through in the middle of the night. Elvis is still there, wrapped around you breathing softly as you lay awake trying not to cry. There's a sharp flash of lightning and not ten seconds later, a crash of thunder tears into the quiet night. You listen for opening doors and sure enough, in less than a minute Erin is in your room and on your bed.

"Daddy!" Elvis sits up and she snuggles into his warmth. He strokes her hair and shushes her gently.

"You're okay, baby girl. Daddy's got you."

John Jessie walks up to the bed cautiously.

"She okay? I just came to check on Erin-" There's another flash of lightning and John Jessie jumps. When the thunder crashes, he crawls into the bed next to you. He might be a big 10-year-old, but you're still his mama. The rain is coming down in torrential waves and you hear hail start to plunk against the windows.

You and Elvis sit with both kids in between you and the power flickers. Erin gasps and John Jessie pats her hand.

"It's okay, sister." Elvis kisses her hair.

"Your brother is right, sweetheart. Nothin' to worry about."

Just then, the power goes out fully.

"Daddy!"

"We're alright. Your mama will go get a candle to light." He looks to you in the dark and you grab your phone and turn the flashlight on. Then, you slide out of bed to find a candle and a lighter. It takes you a minute of fumbling around the house to get what you're looking for. When you make your way back down the hall to the bedroom you pause just outside the door and your heart stops.

He's singing.

In the twilight glow I see

Blue eyes crying in the rain

When we kissed goodbye and parted

I knew we'd never meet again

Love is like a dying ember

And only memories remain

And through the ages I'll remember

Blue eyes crying in the rain

Some day when we meet up yonder

We'll stroll, hand in hand again

In a land that knows no parting

Blue eyes crying in the rain

When he reaches the end of the song, you're on your knees on the floor in the hallway, tears soaking the front of your night shirt, biting your knuckle and trying not to hyperventilate.

How will you survive without him?

You won't. You can't.

The power flicks back on and you hear both kids cheer. You quickly try to pull yourself back together and as you do, you make a decision.

You're not sure how you'll pull it off, or if you even can, but your mind is made up to try.

You walk back into the room and get back in bed with a new determination.

"You okay, honey?" Elvis looks at you curiously. You smile brightly.

"Mhmm! Now, let's get these kids back in their own beds." He shakes his head.

"You're somethin' else, honey. Twenty years together and you still keep me on my toes." He leans over and kisses you softly and then you each take a kid back to their bedroom. When you come back together, you settle into his arms and relax. Tomorrow, you'll think of a plan.

******

The next day comes and goes and so does Elvis. While the kids are at school, you make love and open a portal. You give him the next rendezvous point for the fall, knowing you'll see him before then. As expected, he kisses you and says he'll see you next time. Before he leaves, though, you grab him one last time and pull him into a deep kiss. Memories of every one of your kisses over the last 20 years comes crashing into you and you shake as you hold him, not wanting to let go. You have your plan, but if it doesn't work out, you want your last kiss to be a real one.

"Honey, do you want me to stay?" The portal shimmers behind him.

"Yes. But I know you can't."

"I don't have to go right now. We can make another one later." You look into his eyes, the same eyes that met yours in fear when he first appeared in 2007.

"No. If you don't go now, I'll never let you go."

"Honey, are you sure you're okay?" He doesn't want to leave you if there's something wrong.

"I'll be fine. Now go. I'll see you soon." He smiles softly and kisses your forehead.

"I love you with all of me, y/n. Always have and I always will."

"I love you too, Elvis." He squeezes you tightly one last time and then turns and walks through the portal. When it disappears, you sink to the floor. You have no more tears, so instead you pray. You pray for him, for his body and his soul. You pray for yourself and your kids. And you pray that your plan will work.

******

On August 15th, 1977, at 10:30 pm Elvis arrives at his dentist's office. It's a rather routine appointment, so he doesn't think too much of it. But when he gets back to the room and sees the shimmering portal, he's stunned.

This is not your agreed-upon meetup time or place. Somehow, he's alone in the room, but he knows he doesn't have much time before the dentist comes back. He decides there must be some urgent reason for you to show up here and a pang of worry hits him. Hopefully the kids are alright. The dentist knocks to let him know he's coming back in the room and Elvis takes a breath and walks through the portal, hoping he can get back without the dentist noticing.

"Honey, what the-" and then he sees you. Your eyes are wild and you're chewing on your thumbnail. It looks like you haven't slept in days, because you haven't, and your eyes are puffy and red with the remnants of your last crying spell. He immediately walks to you and wraps his arms around you. "What happened? Is it the kids?"

You lean against him and take in his warmth. You're afraid to move or speak in case something you do upsets him and causes what you're trying to avoid.

"No, it's not the kids. They're fine."

"Then what is-"

"It's you."

"Me? What about me?" You back up and look into his face. How will you tell him?

"You- if..." You trail off, not sure what to say.

"Honey, you're scaring me. You better tell me what's going on right now."

"I have to tell you something. And I need you to trust me. And then you have to make a choice." Your heart is pounding in your chest. You've thought of this moment so many times in the past two weeks and now it's here. The decision to give him a choice was not an easy one, but you know him. Telling him what to do is never the right option.

"Y/n. What the hell are you talking about?"

You take a deep breath, close your eyes and pray silently. Then, you open your eyes and look at him standing in front of you.

"You're going to die tomorrow." It hangs in the air between you like some tangible thing.

"What?" He almost whispers it.

"If you go back, you will die tomorrow. You have to."

"What do you mean, I have to?"

"Because you already did. Look." You hold your phone up to him and show him on Google. Elvis Presley, January 8th, 1935-August 16th, 1977.

He backs away from you and covers his mouth in shock. He shakes his head.

"No. I don't believe it."

"Elvis, why would I lie to you about this?" He looks up at you with tears in his eyes. He searches yours for evidence that this is some kind of cruel trick, but all he finds is sincerity and desperation.

"You said I have to make a choice."

"Yes. If you stay, I can take you to a hospital and we can try to save your life. But you can never go back. You'll be stuck in this timeline forever."

"I'll never see Lisa Marie again."

"No."

"I'll never perform again."

"Not as Elvis Presley, no."

"Elvis Presley is dead."

"Yes. But you could live as John Burrows." He sits down in a chair against the wall.

"That's a hell of a choice, honey."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"Maybe if I'm supposed to die..." You nod and turn away from him. Your shoulders quake as your body is wracked with sobs. You don't want to impact his decision, but you can't control the anguish you feel at the thought of losing him. "But maybe you were meant to save me."

You turn back to him, your face shiny with tears. He walks to you and wraps you in his arms like he has so many times before. He presses his forehead to yours and closes his eyes.

"Y/n, you've saved me a hundred times over. You've made my life worth living. Save me one last time."

"You're sure that's what you want?"

"Yes."

******

The dentist rushes out to Ginger in the waiting room.

"Where did he go?"

"Who?"

"Elvis! He's gone!" She stands up and they frantically search the office, the parking lot, and the grounds of the building, but Elvis is nowhere to be found. Ginger calls Vernon in a panic.

"He's gone?"

"Vernon, it's like he disappeared! I don't know what could've happened." Vernon is quiet for a bit.

"Come home. I'll explain everything."

Back at Graceland, Vernon holds a discreet meeting with all of the most important people in Elvis's life. The conversation that occurs has been kept secret forever.

"Elvis is dead. Or, at least, that's what we're going to tell everyone. In 1960, Elvis sat me down once and warned me that this might happen. He said that there was a distinct possibility that he might disappear and never come back. If he did, he made me promise to proceed as if he was dead."

"What if he comes back?" Ginger is hysterical.

"He won't. He assured me he would be gone for good. You know how he is. We have to do what he asked."

Vernon looks around the room carefully.

"Elvis Presley is dead." They all nod in agreement.

"May he rest in peace."

******

The hospital staff think you're crazy when you insist that your husband is going to have a heart attack. Still, they run some tests and detect a good number of things wrong with him. They admit him and are shocked when he does, in fact, have a heart attack. Luckily, because he was already in the hospital, they're able to catch it quickly and stop it from doing too much damage. Still, this begins a health journey that will last the rest of his life.

But that's the important part.

He lives.

The miracles of modern medicine keep him alive well into his 70s. He watches your kids grow up. He cheers louder than anyone at every graduation and cries like a baby when he walks Erin Love down the aisle at her wedding. He even plays with his grandchildren and watches them grow up. He never stops missing Lisa Marie, but he's so grateful for the opportunity to be the dad he always wanted to be for John Jessie and Erin.

The two of you have your fights, like any other married couple, usually about you trying to feed him a heart-healthy diet. At one point he throws a whole baking sheet of salmon into the backyard to prove a point. You want to be mad, so you put your hands on your hips, but when he turns around to face you, you both erupt into laughter. You solve a lot of your problems by laughing together.

And once he's healthier, you spend a lot of time in bed together. Your lovemaking is not nearly as athletic as it used to be, but it's satisfying and you keep things interesting in your own ways.

But one thing has changed. You notice it the first time you have sex after his heart attack. You roll onto your back next to him sweating and breathing heavily and he wraps an arm around you, pulling you close.

"Shhh. Honey, listen."

"What?"

"It's gone." And then you notice. There's no buzzing sound, no shimmery air.

No portal.

He sings quietly.

At last I'm where you want me

Don't you know, that's where I want to be?

I've been round for the last time

Oh, girl, what can I do?

Oh the time the web was woven,

How I fell in love, fell in love with you...

******

The End

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Taglist:

@ccab @elvisfatass @elvisalltheway101 @aliypop @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @rosepresley68 @your-nanas-house @deniseinmn @joshuntildawn13 @lookingforrainbows @60svintage @littlehoneyposts @epthedream69 @that-hotdog @eddiesgirlforever @helen06dreamer @returntopresley @rjmartin11 @noirrose21-blog @deltafalax @tacozebra051

[goddesspharo]

↻ FLIP FLOP: Jake's Pov from when he's awakes in Vegas.

[ask me for extras about my fics!]

↻ FLIP FLOP: the flip side of the waking up in Vegas scene at the beginning of can't fake what you can't break up with in Hangman's POV

(Also here now for housekeeping purposes!)

Jake's first extremely dramatic thought upon being yanked out of REM sleep by Phoenix's equally dramatic shrieking is that it feels like something died in his mouth and then that dead thing was unceremoniously moved to a shallow grave in his brain and now, in the cruel light of day, it is slowly rising from the spongy matter like a body washing up on shore at low tide – only there's not enough room in his scalp to accommodate the flotsam so his head feels like it's being split apart from the inside. He needs more sleep and a cup of industrial strength espresso, but he'd settle for Phoenix not ruining this for him – the this in question being Natasha looking flushed all over as she stands in the middle of his hotel room in her underwear and points menacingly at him with her phone while threatening to murder him for the crime of rocking her world – by reading Instagram captions out loud like he fucked a delusional Kardashian last night instead of her. (Jake blames Sammy for the fact that he is immediately able to clock that Khloe would be the delusional Kardashian who couldn't take a hint the morning after.) With a groan, Jake reminds Natasha that it's not a Vegas vacation if at least two people don't drunkenly wander into an Elvis chapel and take wedding selfies with The King. His mother has albums full of Jake dressed like Woody from Toy Story when he was in the first grade – that doesn't mean he was spending his days solving crimes instead of figuring out how the hell subtraction worked. Jake tells Natasha that the institution of marriage requires a little more than "pics or it didn't happen" to be valid while slowly stretching out his sore muscles. She has finally stopped yelling at him for three seconds – no doubt to marvel at the legal expertise he culled from watching reruns of The Practice – but when he looks up, what he discovers is even better than Phoenix losing the power of speech over his genius. Natasha Trace, the woman whose response to him flirting with her has always been to remind Jake that she'd be hard pressed to spit on him if he caught on fire – is shamelessly checking him out like someone who went for a test drive and now can't hide that she'd pay sticker price to drive this Mustang off the lot immediately. "I'm going to hop in the shower." Flashing Natasha a grin that is sure to infuriate her, he drawls in a low trickle, "Want to conserve some water with me?" Her face turns murderous within seconds as Nat slips on a hotel robe and loudly plots his demise. He'd make a crack about foreplay, but her grip on the hanger seems deadly. Jake settles for sauntering to the bathroom while whistling the Usher song that Gina played on repeat when Jake had a crush on the college sophomore his parents paid ten bucks an hour to teach them tennis one summer. Phoenix can deny that she's not hot for his bod as much as she wants, but his back looks like a subway map when he catches a glimpse of it in the bathroom mirror. It takes everything in him not to cry out when the scalding hot water hits the scratches, but Jake can't find it in himself to be too mad about it when he finds a red bird sketched onto his skin like a brand. Jake is still laughing about how proprietary Natasha is when he steps out of the bathroom a few minutes later and immediately needles her with, "You won't believe this, but I think you tried to draw a phoenix on my ass with a Sharpie last night!" He doesn't expect her to find it as funny as he does, but Jake is caught off guard when Natasha starts raging about paperwork instead.

[ghuleh-recs]

It's @leezlelatch's birthday!! To celebrate, I put together a list of some of her greatest hits (in my humble opinion). I need to point out that it is taking every ounce of self-control I have not to just recommend everything she has ever written. If you want to read about sexy papas with FEELINGS, look no further. She writes some of the best Copia (emotional) hurt/comfort I have ever read. Her writing never fails to have me kicking my feet and blushing (and sometimes crying lol). Happy Birthday Leez!! Thank you for sharing your gorgeous words with us!

recs under the cut.

Brightness at the Heart of My Love - Copia x Reader

Nervous about your first time together, Cardinal Copia invites you to dinner.

Copia is quiet for several seconds, prompting you to look back up at him from your plate. He’s smiling very softly, cheeks tinted pink. There’s a sweetness to his gaze that halts your every thought, dazzled by him. There is something about Copia that is so…lovely. His features are harsh at times, stern and shadowed. Like a wraith, he passes through the hallways of the Ministry at twilight, swathed in the black of his cassock. When he dons the crimson cassock, he looks more like red death stalking abroad than the temperate Cardinal you’ve come to cherish. Little does the congregation know that he enjoys the serenity of the gardens before dark. That he often sneaks off to the kitchens for a sweet or to “borrow” some blueberries for his rats. That he’s never seen the movie Titanic because he knows he’ll bawl his eyes out. When he smiles, you understand what love is. Copia is the most beautiful man you have ever seen.

The World We Knew - Terzo x Reader

You spend your evenings writing at the old diner in town, looking for your next great story idea. And then Terzo Emeritus walks through the door.

As he lifts the mug to his lips, his eyes catch yours. His left eye isn’t milky, the iris is entirely white, pupil like a pinprick. God, you just wanna fling your laptop across the room. You are so goddamn nosy, and look what happened. Embarrassed, and thoroughly blushing, you look away for a moment before compelled, you return his odd gaze. He smiles at you and tips his mug in greeting before taking that first sip which prompts a satisfied sigh to escape that perfect mouth and you want to die. 

Nave of Hearts - Secondo x Reader

Do you believe in love at first sight? Secondo didn't, until he saw you.

Sitting at the very end of a pew, several rows back, you catch his cold stare, nod your head, and smile. Secondo’s fingers dig into the arm of his chair to prevent them from clasping at his chest as his heart begins a frenetic beat against his ribs. His eyes widen, his jaw clenches, and he stares at you so intently, Secondo is sure that you’ll be frightened away by the madness of his expression. Would the Brother sitting next to you catch the menacing glare of the former Papa and warn you away? Away from the angry, bitter old man who stalks the halls in his retirement.  You tilt your head slightly and widen your eyes in a similar manner, a playful smirk on your lips, and Secondo must have made a noise because Terzo glances over at him with a raised brow. The chapel is so bright suddenly, color exploding across the dark paraments and pews. The sun winks off the silver chalice on the altar, watering Secondo’s eyes. The air is clear, and he breathes deeply, overcome by the sudden and desperate need to know everything about you.

Alyssum - Primo x Reader

Life with Primo is a beautiful story told through flowers.

“Alyssum,” Primo’s warmly accented voice sends a butterfly fluttering about your stomach, and you turn to watch as he takes off his soil-stained gloves, laying them casually to the side. “Worth beyond beauty. And you, my petal, are worth far more than any flower I have ever grown.” His lips twitch with a smile. “Sì, you are beautiful as well. Perhaps tomorrow will be purple heather.”

Just a Nibble - Secondo x Reader

Nights with Papa Emeritus II are always interesting.

“Just there, amore,” Secondo sighs, relaxing into the heating pad with a soft groan. You ensure the warmth is placed right along his lower back comfortably so he can rest against the pillows in the shared afterglow of your lovemaking. “Grazie, grazie. Now come to your Papa.” “Come to your Papa, come for your Papa,” you muse with a teasing grin. “So demanding these days, Secondo.” You slide under the covers next to him and squeak with surprise as he hooks an arm around your waist and drags you across the sheets to nestle against his side.

Lust in Your Eyes - Copia x Reader

The Cardinal waits for you in your room…but sometimes, he's impatient.

Abandoning the shelf of records, he sits down on your bed, running his hand across the comforter. With a sigh, Copia falls back, closing his eyes as your scent envelopes him. He turns on his side and follows the pattern of the bedspread with a single finger, a crooked smile on his lips as he thinks about the very naughty things the two of you have gotten up to in this very bed.  He turns his nose into the soft material, taking a deep breath, his mouth falling open slightly. He turns onto his stomach, drawing his legs up as he skims the tip of his nose across the length of the bed, crawling forward until he reaches your pillow. 

𖤐 you know the drill--bookmark, read, and leave kudos/comments!

(I think it would be such a nice birthday gift for you to leave a comment on any of these, don't you?)

[cc-horan28]

Be My Valentine - 6

Let Me Be Your Last First Kiss

Soulmates AU (G) 1.3k

Louis Tomlinson x Harry Styles

There was one boy in particular, with rectangular glasses and a beanie pulled down over his hair who caught his eye, gesturing extravagantly as he boomed out the lines to what sounded like Grease in front of a small group gathered appreciatively in front of him. 

OR

Harry just changed schools, and finding his soulmate wasn't what he expected at all

No warnings!

A/N: I am back at it with the Oops, Hi! Headcanon. I’m obsessed. Sorry not sorry. For the purpose of this fic, lets assume H and Lou are the same age. Also i wandered into the love at first sight category instead of first love but eh. As always, huge thank you to Akeyla for this fest! <3

Title from 1d's 'Last First Kiss'

Harry brushed his fringe aside, digging his other hand awkwardly into the pocket of his jeans. “I know, mum,” he said, doing his best to keep his voice level, not wanting her to sense his apprehension and fear. “I’ll keep my nose clean, I’ll behave, drink water and message you when I leave. Don’t worry, I’ll be responsible,” 

“When are you not, baby?” Anne smiled, reaching up to adjust his hair for him, Harry already gangling over her at 16. 

“Oh, don’t cry mum,” Harry said, scrunching his face up as he furtively looked around to see if anyone had noticed them yet, “It’s not like it’s my first day of school or anything. It’s just a new one. I’ll survive,” 

He wasn’t sure he would. Moving here hadn’t been easy. Holmes Chapel had been so small, everything was so familiar. Everyone had known everyone else, and Harry had had his own group of friends. 

He’d have to start over again, and this school was so much bigger. Swallowing down his worries, he smiled and waved goodbye to his mum, walking into the big brick building, looking around from the admin block as he passed through the huge glass doors.

A couple of minutes later he was standing in front of another set of double doors. He quickly glanced up at the room number, cross checking it with the time table clutched in his hand. He could peep through the little glass inlays in the door and see people moving around, but he didn’t want to take any chances. 

Sure that it was, indeed, the room he was supposed to go to for his first period drama class, he pushed the door open, eyes catching at the grey anchor on his wrist. He tugged the sleeve of his jacket down as he entered. 

It wasn’t exactly like he was ashamed to know he had a soulmate, many did, but he didn’t want it advertised in front of everyone. He shivered a little at the prospect as he made his way to the back of the class, the entire room empty with all the desks pushed up to the sides.

Everyone was loud enough to not have noticed him when he entered. Many were grouped together, going through what seemed like lines. There was one boy in particular, with rectangular glasses and a beanie pulled down over his hair who caught his eye, gesturing extravagantly as he boomed out the lines to what sounded like Grease in front of a small group gathered appreciatively in front of him. 

He pulled his eyes away, wondering if there was some pre-requisite reading he had somehow missed out on. He set his bag down on a desk as he leaned against it, riffling through his bag to check if he had actually missed something. The last thing he wanted was to make a bad impression on the first day.

“Hi,” he heard a soft voice to his left and whipped around, mind already reeling with how he had practiced he would introduce himself. All thoughts vacated his head at the sight in front of him. It was Beanie-Boy. He could see his eyes more clearly now and was seized with an inane urge to rip his glasses off and just stare at his eyes. 

His gaze wandered up to the feathery bits of hair peeking out from under his beanie and found himself wondering why Beanie-Boy covered everything up. His hair looked very soft and Harry wondered what it would feel like between his fingers,

He was jerked out of his reverie when the other boy cleared his throat, blushing.

“Oops,” he mumbled, “I didn’t mean to stare, I just-” he held out his hand, shooting him a small smile. “I’m Harry,”

“Louis,” Beanie-Boy smiled back and Harry barely had time to notice that there was a grey mark circling his wrist before he felt his own burning up. He glazed down at his hand shoved into the pocket of his jacket and oh-

The anchor was getting darker.

Louis was frowning down at his own hand, and Harry stared at him for a moment before the realization hit him. 

“Is that an anchor?” Louis said, voice low enough that Harry had to lean forward to hear. Louis’ eyes were now fixed on Harry’s jacket. 

“Yeah,” Harry breathed out, too dumbfounded to say anything else. 

“Oh my god,” Louis exclaimed, “I- mine’s a rope. I always thought it was a bit stupid. Like- i was tied up or something but I-” he broke off, staring at Harry’s face now and Harry felt a bit warm, blushing a deep red. 

“We’re soulmates?” they both said simultaneously, Harry sounding like he was in disbelief, Louis nothing but overjoyed.

“This is not how I pictured my first day going,” Harry admitted with a sheepish chuckle, letting go of Louis’ hand almost grudgingly.

“Me neither, Curly. But I like it,” Louis grinned and Harry found himself a lot more flustered than the nickname called for. 

The door swung open and everyone hushed, lining up against the walls as the teacher walked in. 

“What say, Curly?” Louis smiled, taking Harry’s left hand in his right and leading him to the back of the class, rope lining up with the anchor perfectly. Harry smiled at the sight. “Bowling sounds good?”

“Yeah,” Harry smiled back, biting his lip as he tried to disguise the look on his face. “Bowling sounds great,” 

He couldn’t wait for the day to end.

“I can’t believe this is all actually happening. I mean, if you would have told me back then- when I joined, I mean- that I would be at prom with my soulmate. I wouldn’t have believed it,” Harry whispered to Louis, looking down at their joined hands. Louis turned his head to press his lips against Harry’s temple, leaning the chair onto its back back feet as they watched the rest of their year dancing. 

“Me neither,” Louis said, and Harry could’ve sworn he could hear the smile in his voice, “I mean when I saw you coming in, looking around and like- you thought no one noticed you,” he chuckled, “Have to be blind to not notice you, by the way. I’d made up my mind already, but to… see our marks. We were always meant to be,”

Harry flushed, batting his free hand weakly against Louis’ thigh. “Stop being so over the top,” 

“I’m not!” Louis protested, “We’re literally soulmates!”

“Doesn’t mean you have to be soppy,” Harry giggled, flushing despite his words.

Louis paused for a moment, and Harry raised his head off Louis’ shoulder, a little concerned as he tried to read his expression in the dim lighting. 

“I love you, Haz,” Louis said softly,

Harry smiled back at him, tilting his head to the side and watching him for a few moments before leaning in for a soft kiss. “I know. We’ve been over this,” he quipped, raising an eyebrow with a smirk, ducking when Louis made to ruffle his hair. 

“Hey, it took me hours to get my hair right,” he giggled, slightly out of breath, “Now will you ask me for a dance already,” he smiled, getting up with his fingers still linked with Louis’.

Louis shook his head fondly as they made their way to the centre of the floor, looping his hands around Harry’s waist as they turned to face each other, moving slowly. The younger boy rested his head on Louis’ shoulder.

“I love you, Louis,” he whispered. 

“I love you too, baby. We’ve been over this,”

A/N: Reblogs are always appreciated 💕

[notsofunsenpai]

Tw: Overdose mentioned,unconscious/unresponsive reader mentioned.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Kenji curses to himself,pacing back and forth while running his black painted fingernails that you painted for him through his hair,"Why?" His voice breaks,trying not to cry as he's outside your hospital room.  He was left in the dark,no clue what was going on the only thing he knew was you guys were smoking and ran out of snacks and he went to go get some,when he arrived you were unresponsive and here he was right now,worried sick. That was all he knew,it's been more than an hour,maybe an hour thirty, but the doctor's hadn't given him permission to come in yet. His mind begins to wonder,what if you dont make it or what if you're in a coma or braindead? "Stop it, Kenji.." he mutters to himself,thinking like this isn't gonna ease his mind. Maybe he should get a drink or something,he didnt always pray, but he could pray for you since the hospital has a chapel build inside. He didn't know what he wanted to do,his mind was not thinking,he wasn't thinking.  All he could think about was you. After all that thinking, he just decided to get some overpriced water from the vending machine and some chzpuffs, then stay in the waiting room,they has his number, and he hasn't eaten anything since earlier and the cafeteria was closed. He watches the tv that was showing some dumb sitcom that wasn't even funny,something about science he wasnt sure,he was kinda dozing off. Then his phone went off,he practically jumped out of his seat,he answered it and told him he could see you. He says, "Okay," hanging up immediately,going straight to your room,leaving his chips and water behind.

He arrived in your room in a flash. The doctor gave him a quick run down of what happened, but all he heard was that you tried to overdose because depression. He was really trying  to listen, but it was too much to swallow down. He wanted to tell the doctor to hurry up and let him see you. When the doctor finally stepped to the side for him to go in,Kenji booked it inside as the doctor left the two of you to talk if you were up to it. He was right near your side,your hand in his while his thumb gently carsses your hand,"What happened?" He knew what happened, but he wanted to hear it from you. You were pale,some sweat dripping down your face as you look like you might puke some more. There was a moment of silence,Kenji kissed your hand sweetly,"Baby,i.. I dont even know where to begin. My mind is everywhere. im scared if i say the wrong thing.."he holds your hand tighter,"There's different ways to deal with your depression,I'd fucking missed you if you left me like this! Don't you understand how much it'll hurt me to see you go like this?",tears fall down his face,he hated seeing you like this it aches his heart. He sniffs some so you won't see the snot running down his nose,"There's other ways i promise..dont ever do that or this again!"he cries out.

You smiled tiredly yet softly at him,"Sorry.." you managed to get out.

"Don't apologize,don't ever apologize to me. It's fine. You didn't do anything wrong. I should be apologizing. I shouldn't have left you alone. Then none of this would of happened,im sorry."

You tried to listen him but you were going in and out of your sleep,his voice would sometimes fade off or you would catch the end of his sentence but you kinda ended up falling asleep with his hand in yours.

"We'll talk more about this when you're fully awake. I love you so much." Kenji said, finally noticing that you were trying to rest. He pulls a chair next to you,holding your hand as he sits down next to you,"I'll be right here,I'm not gonna leave you. I'm here for you forever,I'll always be here for you."

[black-moon-bunny]

The Prime Mover

They announced that he was going to get married. But she wasn't his Prime Mover. Her heart broke in a million pieces. There was more to the story that just a simple betrayal.

Pairing : Terzo x Female reader. (Goes wrong.)

Word count: 6k.

Warnings: Use of Y/n. Angst. Feels. Hurt no comfort for now. Terzo acts like an asshole. Also, sad terzo. Arrange marriage. Reader is completely heartbroken.

A.N : Well, I wrote this while being in a dark place for a couple of days. I'm planning on making this a Three piece story, and yes I will give it a happy ending because I'm not that cruel. I made my self cry while writing this. A special thanks to @hauntedboobees who has been supporting me all week with her wonderful coments 💕 I love this community so much 😭 💕

She woke up feeling like something bad was going to happen, the whole week had been an emotional torture for her, first the fight between her and Terzo at the begging of the week, then the cold shoulder and useless attempts of talking and lastly the fact that he hadn't called her to his room in all week. They were not lovers...but everyone in the ghoul den said that they were, this "friends with benefits'' arrangement had been going for a whole year, and since maybe five or six months the ghouls decided to call them Mr and Ms devile ( Yes as in Cruella devile ) after they matched a black and white outfit for a party once. They always joked about how much of a couple they were and how Terzo seemed to be "tamed" by her. She played off like a joke each time, she was good at lying to herself. She knew that she had a lot of feelings for him, and before the fight she could swear that he felt something for her more than lust. Her heart weighs a ton inside of her right now, she knew that it was stupid to catch feelings...but no one saw how he behaved with her , how much he seemed to care about her, how sweet and loving he could be when they were alone resting in his bedroom....She wanted to believe that her feelings were not one sided.

As she dressed she found a necklace that he gave to her for her birthday, a golden inverted cross with an amethyst in the middle, the purple and gold combination that was completely him, a piece of him to make her company when he was away. She put on the necklace and left the room before her roommates. Omega sent her a message about meeting to talk before the morning mass in the chapel so she went a bit early.

As soon as she arrived, omega approached her, he had a worried expression concerned about something.

— Y/N ...We need to talk... I want you to understand that no matter what happens today you will always be a part of the ghoul den, you can come and go around as much as you want to...And that we are going to be by your side if you need us...—His voice tone seemed a bit agitated, and he was talking like there's something horrible going on.

— What's going on Omega...you are scaring me...—She tried to brush off the feeling in omega with a sweet smile. — Oh come on if you say it because of the fight between me and ter..I mean, Papa. It's fine at some point we are going to talk about it, we always do...And I'm not mad at him he had been acting weird that's all...

— Please...promise me that whatever happens today you will come to us if you need support...we are your friends too ...—He couldn't brush off the feeling so easily, she was so clueless...

— Support in what? Come on Omega spill it, you are acting weird too...I swear if it is just because the fight that we had is getting a bit too much....

— ...y/n...Today at the mass they are going to announce...

—OMEGA! —Terzo's voice echoed in the chapel. The ghoul turned around to face him, his expression was a mix between sadness and anger towards the man he calls not only boss but also friend. — You should not be alone here with the sister, morning mass is about to start and you need to prepare the equipment...

— Oh come on...What's going on between you two? ...And you are going to ignore me today too? ....it wasn't that big of a fight...come on...—She went to touch his hand but as soon as she touched him, he grabbed her hand and moved it away from him, without any word.

— Sister, you should be preparing yourself for....—His eyes darted to the necklace in her chest, his heart ached so hard that he needed a moment to keep talking.— If you have time for being so early here, you should be helping your sisters arrange the seats and cleaning before the mass don't you think?...—He looked at Omega — and you, follow me...

— Terzo this is...—The ghoul protested , but a fierce look of his boss shut him.— I'm so sorry y/n....—He left with the head of the church , she felt her heart stinging. What's going on? He was so mad at her that he was going to break their friendship over a stupid fight?...

She went to help as he told her, the hour went by and mass was ready to start, but this mass seemed weird...Everyone was there, Cardinal Copia ( who she believed was the most charming shy man she had ever met.) Papá Nihil, Papá Primo, Papá secondo, the upper clergy and Sister Imperator, there was another sister in the front with the rest, seated next to Terzo. She had seen her a couple of times during the last three months, she was from a congregation in Italy, maybe she was close to the Emeritus family or something and that's why she was seated there. A family friend.

After the beginning of the mass and the morning sermon from Primo, sister imperator went in front and spoke to the congregation.

— Sisters and Brothers in sin...You know how hard the work of our dark lord is, you know that in this path of sacrifice and hard work we need to help our community to grow, the Emeritus line also needs to grow along the community...So, I want to give everyone of you the great news, Our beloved papa Emeritus the Third had finally found his Prime Mover...Sister Verona, from our congregation in Italy...

She felt the air in her lungs escape without a sound, her stomach dropped and her heart felt crushed by a ton of stones. His prime mover...his future wife, mother of his children....the engines in her heart began to work, it was this the reason behind his behavior last week, she knew that they did not shared an exclusivity contract or something like that...but she also knew that he had not engaged in anything with other sisters since they make that agreement of friends with benefits, she couldn't call him unfaithful but she could scold him for not telling her? He was going to make it seem like she doesn't exist just for his future wife? Even their friendship?

The roar of applause and screams of joy brought her back to reality. She looked right at him, he couldn't even look at her. He went to the microphone and thanked everyone in the chapel for their congratulations. He gave a speech about how love was important among the brothers and sisters, the bond they shared together and how they met.

— And since three months ago I knew that she was the one for me...

And that was the final straw...she felt how her heart fell in pieces inside of her, her chest ached, her mind was running wild with memories about them in the last three months, the kisses, the softness, they late night conversations, the movie nights at the den...her hopes of him feeling the same as her. Some sisters looked right in her direction, they shared the same sad look on their faces towards her. They were her roommates, the friends that knew about her deal with him and knew how much he meant to her. Omega also looked at her along with the other ghouls, even Primo and Secondo seemed shocked by the news and looked at her for a moment. Everything that she could hear was white noise, her surroundings became blurry as the tears stung her eyes without falling, she was not going to cry...not in front of him, even if he didn't even look in her direction. Her body felt stiff, she was shaking a bit, the sister who was seated next to her asked softly if she felt alright or if she was a bit sick. She took the opportunity...she said that she felt a bit sick and stranded up slowly, terzo looked right at her at that moment, their eyes locking for a moment. Her heartbroken expression, her eyes filled with tears. He looked away and looked at his Prime mover, in a quick movement he kissed her, right in front of everybody. She looked away as soon as their lips touched, she couldn't handle it anymore...she left the chapel quickly, without wanting anyone to look at her.

As soon as she was outside the chapel the tears began to fall, she wanted to scream. To yell to Lucifer if her fate was fair, didn't she give enough?... didn't she deserved to be happy along the one she loved?...She felt betrayed...all was a lie, all of the sweet words, all of the late night kisses and cuddles, all of the nights in them both confessed their deepest fears, when he calmed down after a meltdown , when she gave him strength after a huge fight between him and his dad...She felt stupid. A stupid girl with stupid feelings...how could she have been so dumb? How did she think that he could really fall in love with her?...She was nothing special, even since the first time he flirted with her she had her doubts. But after so many nights in his arms, letting herself go into lust and pleasure guided by him...alongside him she started to believe that she was indeed desirable and beautiful. He looked at her with such adoration sometimes that she felt like the eighth wonder of the world. But that also felt like a dirty lie right now....She was so stupid, so incredibly dumb.

Inside of the chapel Omega moved his feet impatiently, he saw her left, he knew that she most probably was in incredible pain right now. He needed to go and see her, she was his friend, the rest of the ghouls were asking themselves what happened, how did this happen? Who was she? Why did Terzo lie all this time then? Why when they both seemed so good together? And the poor sister...her face when they kissed it was the most heartbreaking thing to watch. They were all mad at him at the moment, how could he? Omega looked right at Terzo, he catched a glimpse of sadness in his eyes as he looked to the door....

She walked without a specific direction...she saw the big entrance door and thought for a minute in fleeing away...but where? She had no one...she only had the church, she couldn't leave. She kept walking, her crying made echo in the empty halls of the church, she felt crumbling slowly, her cries were getting more and more emotional, less controlled, she looked at the hallway that went to the ghoul den..and she walked straight to the door and entered, she knew that no one was going to be there. No one entered without the ghouls permission, but she was so used to going there that she didn't mind being found inside, she went to the living room of the den and let herself rest on the big sofa. She cried for what seemed hours until she fell asleep from pure exhaustion.

Inside the chapel, as soon as the mass ended the ghouls went looking for her in every room of the abbey, her room, the garden, the second chapel, the practice room, even terzo's room...but she was nowhere to be found, they became progressively more worried as the clock went by. Omega went to Terzo's office and entered just to find him there, looking at the window with no expression at all.

— I hope you are happy...—He spit in anger— You broke her Terzo...She loved you! Did you even look at her!?

— ....What did you wanted me to do?...It's the way that things are...I never expected her to put such a show in front of everyone, I never expected her to caught feelings...that was her mistake not mine....— He was doing his best effort to not break in front of the ghoul, the weight of his lies and his aching heart were making everything more difficult

— Don't fucking lie to me, you were the one that told me how much you wanted her to be only yours, how did you have this big travel prepared just for the two of you. What the fuck...

— I was going to make her life miserable!! I was trying to save her!! Do you think that they care about me being Papa!? Do you think that I have any real power here!? I'm their fucking puppet!! I'm just a piece of their game! I'm just a fucking marionette being pulled by my own father and Imperator! I don't have a fucking choice!! ....—He snapped, his rage was big, as big as his pain. His eyes burned with tears that could not fall out. — ...they were going to make her life a living nightmare....

— You are exaggerating Boss.....I know that you would do anything to protect her but this is too much..

—.I'm not exaggerating....Verona is part of an old family like ours...her family has enough money and influence in the Vatican city, enough for us to steal the sacred books that we need...it's a fucking arrange marriage...once again , I'm just useful if I'm being manipulated by my father...

— Why you didn't say anything?...about this marriage being a fucking power move from your family?....You are my boss but...we are friends Terzo...we could have tried to find another solution...

—There was no other solution Omega...This is something that I had to do quickly...make sure that everyone knew that we were going to tie the knot..

— That's why you kissed sister Verona in front of y/n?...I got the arranged marriage part but...you totally broke her with that ...

—....I did it because I want her to hate me...if she hates me it will be easier for her...it will be easier for me to not lose my mind and go to her room begging for her forgiveness...begging for her to be with me...If she hates me , I can love her from far away knowing that she will never look at me in the way that I crave ...—He looked at his desk, in one of the drawers there was a little Jack Skellington plush that she gave to him for his birthday. He recalled how she told him that it reminded her of him, how happy she was when he kept him in his office. He grabbed the little plush and placed it on his chest, close to him. It still smelled like her...like the woman that he truly loved but could never have.

— .... Please terzo...there has to be something that we can do, they cannot force you to marry her...

—They can, and believe me they will.....can I ask you one more thing? Not as your boss but as a friend....please take care of her.

— You need to tell her the truth....

— I can't....I can't....No one can ...Imperator would kill me if she found out I fucked up her plan..—He left the plushie on his drawer carefully, as it was now his most priced possession. The only reminder that she loved him and that he loved her— ...leave me alone...

— Terzo....—Omega disobeyed and hugged him, he knew now that he was going through the same pain and heartache. He left the youngest of the Emeritus resting in his chest, he didn't hear him cry, but the way in which his shoulders shivered was the clear signal of his emotions.

No one said a word, it wasn't necessary, for Omega this was the time that he needed to be there for Terzo, not his boss, his friend...the one who was always so flashy, so flamboyant and a master of sweeping sisters and brothers of their feets with just one look, one smirk. The always so confident Terzo, behind doors was another human being, not so confident, filled with rage and anger, filled with self hatred that followed him as a dark cloud, he felt useless most of the time, the massive amounts of pressure, the relationship with his family, the void left by his mostly absent mother... There were only a few beings on this planet who knew the whole Truth behind the confidence of the young emeritus, Copia and Omega were his closest friends, the ones that tried to make him avoid the fall each time he was closer to break. For omega this was so painful to watch, he never thought of seeing his friend and boss so heartbroken. He needed to do something...he knew that the pain could drive both of them crazy.

Outside the office the ghouls still looked around trying to find her, Mountain went to the den to look for his comfortable shoes in case he needed to go up the hill outside the abbey to find her, that's when he found her. Curled up in a ball on the sofa , her face was puffy and red...He knew that she had been crying her eyes out. He called the rest of the ghouls, no one wanted to wake her up, Mountain took her to his bed and let her rest there, covering her with some blankets as the other ghouls talked in the living room.

— ....She is in severe pain...—Sunshine sighed— I can feel it... completely heart broken...

— ....Why did Terzo do that?...He seemed so in love with her some weeks ago....— Cirrus replied looking to mountain who had a concerned and thoughtful expression.

— There is something really sketchy going on...We know that our boss is a womanizer, but he seemed really...in love with her...This is completely out of character even for him...—Mountain replied and took a seat. — Our priority is her right now...Sunny, can you take care of her? Let's make her stay a couple of days here...

— It's okay...I will take care of her, but what are we going to say to Imperator if she starts looking for her?...

—She is sick, that's all...Do you think Copia knows something about this? He is also close to terzo...Secondo and Primo seemed as surprised as us...

—....You don't have to do anything guys....— Y/n entered the living room, she seemed small, her always bright and big personality was nowhere to be seen, she had puffy eyes , and his nose was still a bit red. She tried to brush her fingers and fix her robe before walking to the door. — I'm sorry for...crashing here, I'm going to my room...

— Stay here... Sweetheart you are wasted, we can go to look for your things right cumulus?

— Yeah...Cirrus and I will bring your things here so you can stay for a couple of days...

— I'm fine...just....Don't pity me, it's stupid....I'm just a stupid girl who let a complete womanizer make me believe that it was worth the try...—She responded with no emotion at all.— I'm going to my room, I need to sort something out...and please, don't try to do something....It is what it is...

— Please y/n...we know that...it's too much too soon...but we are here for you if you need us...stay here at least tonight, we can watch movies and eat something tasty...— Sunshine hugged her, she let herself rest a bit in the ghoulette, after a long breath she smiled a bit, defeated but honest.

— Thank you guys.... really, I will...I'm going for a couple of my stuff and then after dinner I can come to stay the night...I just need a moment...

— We get it....—Mountain kissed her forehead, they all had a soft spot for the sister, she was kind and always treated them with respect and care. To everyone in the den,seeing her like that was a worry. A huge worry.

She went back to her room and began to pack a couple of things in a small backpack, her pajamas and some clothes. Her roommates understood her decision and decided to help her do her chores for a couple of days. She undressed and changed her clothes to something more casual and comfortable. As she moved some things around she looked herself in the mirror, the necklace adorning her neck was a reminder of broken promises and lies. After packing and organizing some stuff she left the room, took the necklace off and went to his office. She was going to return the piece of jewelry to its owner.

As she made her way to Terzo's office her heart felt heavy, she was nervous but she needed to let it go as fast as she could....and that was a start.

— Excuse me Papa...—She entered without knocking, not that she cared anyway.

He tensed up seeing her. What was she doing there?...He could not let his feelings control him, he needed to be strong, he needed to be cold towards her. He needed to protect her even from him.

— What are you doing here?....I guess that by now it is pretty obvious that our arrangement is over. —He tried to not look at her eyes directly, his expression was stoic. Even when his insides were burning.

— I know....That's why I came. —She walked to his desk and left the necklace on top of it. — This is yours....Your precious future wife is going to look amazing with it.

— It was a gift...there is no use in getting it back. It belongs to you...

— I don't want it anymore...If you don't want it either throw it in the trash...—She was trying her best to be calm and show little to no emotion, but slowly it was breaking. So many times in that office seared on his lap, kissing and talking, working together...eating together sometimes when the work was too much to get out to eat...She was about to leave everything in that office forever. Starting with him.

— ...You are leaving?....—He saw the small backpack and the way in which she was dressed. His heart ached by the mere thought of her leaving...his egoist desire of keeping her at least in the abbey, the masochistic desire of torturing his soul looking at her from a distance...

— Something like that, not that you care....it seems that you never did anyway....

— ...y/n....

— No no, I know I'm being petty....and I know for a fact that I was stupid. Stupid enough to believe in your fucking lies, stupid enough to believe in your words....— Her feelings ended up slipping, she couldn't hold them any longer. She needed to let the pain out in some way. — Stupid enough to believe that you were interested in me... —Her voice broke as tears fell slowly from her eyes to her jaw, her hands shook a bit as she looked right at him trying not to scream or throw something. The rage of feeling betrayed, the pain that she felt in her heart for losing him, the feeling of being used.

— I'm not a liar... — He felt how the guilt and pain sunk his heart. He wanted so badly to hug her, to make her stop crying and tell her that he loved her, that he was doing all of this because he wanted to protect her. That it was all a scheme , a plan...that if he had any chance of living another life with her he would do it....

—....You are....And you know what it worst than you being a liar? Me believing in everything that you did...The kisses, the nights making love to each other....I loved you....that is what hurt the most...I fucking fell in love with you against all odds of the two being something some day. I wanted to believe in you!....—She raised her voice a bit, and immediately after she stopped talking. She took a deep breath and let some of the anger flow again inside of her, she was not going to make a scandal there, she was not going to give him the chance to see her completely broke. She just turned around and walked towards the exit.— I'm not going to return here, so don't worry about me. I will not tell a soul of this...and I hope that you have a happy marriage, and that all of the things that you did were worth it....Goodbye Terzo. —She left the office and went walking again, she lighted up a cigarette she stole from Dewdrop and got outside to the garden, as soon as she sat she began crying...she felt so defeated.

As she was crying her heart out in the garden, a soft woman's voice approached her, seemingly worried.

— Are you okay?...— As soon as she looked up she realized that the one asking for her was sister Verona...terzo's prime mover. She wanted to scream at her for a bit...but she was not guilty, most probably she didn't even know about her existence.

—....I'm just heartbroken...don't worry about me...

— Piccolina, you seem like a train went over you, it had to be the biggest heartbreak huh?....I'm so sorry, is there anything that you need right now?

She was so beautiful....and so nice. She was sure that she would become a great prime mover, a great mother, a great companion for the leader of the church. She felt envious, how could she ever stand a chance competing with someone like her?...

— Don't be...I'm going to be fine....

— You sure will! Look at you woman...you are beautiful, and you seem nice. I'm sure that you will meet the one, as our dark lord guides your path...

— I'm sure I will....— It was cruel and comic at the same time, the irony of being comforted by the woman that is going to marry the man that you loved, the poor thing without even knowing that you are crying for the man she is going to make a life with. — You already found yours, haven't you?....Papa nonetheless...

— Oh...yeah....how charming isn't it?....—Her demeanor seemed sarcastic when talking about him. She was about to talk a bit more until she looked at the clock in the entry of the garden. — Oh merda..I have a meeting and I'm already late....take care sweet girl, and don't shed tears for an asshole who did not appreciate the wonderful woman that you are...Good bye sister....

— Y/n...sister y/n....— She replied as she saw how she was trying to guess her name.

Verona could swear that she had heard that name before, and she seemed quite familiar...But she couldn't get quite there yet to remember where or with who.

— Goodbye sister y/n!..

Verona walked fast to Terzo's office, she was pretty tired but wanted to finish all of this misery business as soon as possible...A arranged marriage, in this era..

It was stupid. She adored Terzo...as a friend. She never felt anything for the guy more than friendship and a sweet care, they had meet each other years ago in Italy when the man was a boy and he was studying for becoming a priest in the church of Satan...Being son of the Emeritus bloodline was a lot of pressure, and she understood him being herself subject of big pressure by her own family name and fame.

The friendship grew easily, they got along well....but an arranged marriage was too much. But what could she do?....her family was hoping for a marriage...

— Terzo are you there?....—She walked in the office, he was seated holding something in his hand, totally lost in his thoughts.. — We need to talk....

— About what?... How are we going to name our future kids or what?...—He replied harshly, he felt bad in doing so, he knew that it wasn't her fault either...

—....We cannot marry and you know it...we are never going to work , and it's stupid....our families are friends if they need the books so much they just need to ask...

— It's a plan by our fathers and you know it...—He sighed and left the necklace on top of some papers. — ...at least it's you...it could have been a complete stranger...

— Yeah....it could had been...—She looked to the necklace, and then it hit her...The girl crying, it was the same one that she saw in Terzo's office a couple of months ago, it was the same girl that was on his backstage when she was talking with Copia...the owner of the necklace. — You know...there was a sister crying in the garden...—She looked at him and took the necklace — She told me that someone broke her heart...the poor thing was crying her eyes out while smoking outside...

—....Yeah?...— He tensed a bit, it could be her?..— Poor girl....

— Yeah...Sister y/n......The owner of this piece of jewelry... isn't it?....— His eyes opened in surprise, she tied the loose threads so easily, she saw behind his masked emotions with such ease— Oh terzo....you broke her heart?...are you the one she is crying about?...this is...because of me?....

—This is not your fault Verona...it's mine...I was a coward and....pushed her away...

— She doesn't know that this is arranged? ...what did you tell her?...

—I planned a fight....then I just ignored her until today....— Confessing this to her felt so relieving and at the same time made him feel so ashamed— Did you talk with her?....

— I did! Now I felt terrible....poor thing...Me there trying to cheer her up and I'm one of the reasons she is crying!...How could you possibly not tell me that you were with her!?....and how you possibly could have done that to her! Terzo....you are better than that....

— I'm not...I'm just a puppet in this play...

— That's it....I'm tired of this bullshit..—She put the necklace in her pocket and before he could stop her she turned around and looked directly into his eyes. — You are a fucking grown up terzo, you are papa! Do something!...Don't let her go if you love her you idiot...

She left the room and went again to the garden, hoping to find her, but she was nowhere to be found.

She was outside the building, she went for a coffee outside, alone. She looked at the buildings that were close to the abbey, could she ever leave the church?...She was going to be able to live with him and his image lurking over her everyday?...She didn't knew what to do, she wanted to leave but had nowhere to go, she wanted to stay but she knew that seeing him every day was going to kill her slowly...

As she walked to the coffee shop she felt someone calling her from a car, she got closer to it to reveal the sweet Cardinal Copia. Dressed much less formal and elegant, he looked casual and comfortable.

— It's freezing, do you want to go for a ride instead?....—They both laughed a bit, she got up in the car and thanked him. — No worries...How are you feeling?...— She knew that he was aware of the situation, she could trust him.

— Honestly?....I felt like shit. Like someone stomped on my heart and broke it in thousands of sharp pieces...

—....I know this gorgeous place , it's a bit far from here...Let me make a call and we can go if you like...they have an amazing Italian coffee....

— I would love to....Thanks Cardinal....

— I'm a bit down also, we could use some good company don't you think?...—He called Sister Imperator. — Sister, yeah...Oh no no, don't worry I'm okay, I'm going to take a bit more. I'm going to look for some things....Si Si, church things....Si, do you want a cinnamon roll for your noon coffee? Si , si...Thank you sister, byeee...—He looked at her with a smile.— Well...off we go, put in your seat belt please...

— Thank you Cardinal...for real....—She smiled at him and let her head rest on the window. Looking outside, the day was beautiful, but to her it seemed toned down.

— There's nothing to thank sister, you need to clear your mind...Sorry if I overstep but...Did you talk with Terzo?...

— Well...No, yeah.... something like that, I just.... yelled at him and left....I can't believe that I was just a fool...

— You are not... You are in love Piccolina, and ...I believe that he is in love with you too...Hear me out, please....This could sound a bit weird but, Verona is not interested at all in him, and this feels too rushed...even for Terzo. Something doesn't fit well...

— Oh Cardinal...you are just trying to cheer me up....

— Piccolina, I'm not. I swear, Verona has been my friend since we were kids, if she was going to get married I would have known....Secondo and Primo didn't know either...This seems off to everyone...

—Well....maybe he just didn't have the balls to tell me about it...Either way, We are nothing at this moment...He is going to get married and...I will have to live with it....

— Do you really love him?...

— .....I do....It's stupid, we were just friends...and then we thought that it was a great idea become friend with benefits ... But oh cardinal...he was so sweet with me...He helped me so much, he held me in his arms so many times when I couldn't sleep at night, I was so in love with him...my heart is so broken...—She couldn't hold the tears, he kept driving but had one of his hands on her shoulder, comforting her.

— ...I can't promise that I will make things better, but I'm going to try Sister.... let's go for that coffee, you will love it.

They went for coffee, to the place that Copia has bragged so much, she saw from the window the abbey getting smaller and smaller in the distance. She tried to get her mind focused on other things, the beautiful greenery from the hills, the music that the Cardinal had in the car, the small talk between them.

She was determined to get over him, or die trying.

A.N: Heeey, I hope you enjoyed it. 💕 I know, it's sad and hurts a lot. But,.I wanted to change the focus of this type of fic in which they use the other woman as a threat or make her evil, in this story I wanted to make sister Verona a likeable character, to make clear that she is not the enemy or wants to hurt the reader. Again, thank you so much for the support and love 💕 And remember! Eat well, drink water and get some rest 💕

Tag list : @yuk-for-president @hauntedboobees @onedaughterofman @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @serene-sun @jbcalway If you want to be added to the tag list comment or reblog and I will add you 💕

[lipglossanon]

i’m sorry i was gone for so long i thought my episode was better but life my depression fucked me in the ass with a cactus and no lube lmao but someone asked about priest leon and it triggered my writing urges again, i can’t promise consistency but i can promise he will fill you with something more than the holy spirit, i can’t tell you about the second coming cumming of christ but i can tell you about the third and fourth, he’s probably so happy being cooped up in the woods with no one else and i can really see him just having the unholiest vhs porn collection from like the 70s to 80s and a tiny ass tv that works in like one corner of the chapel and god does it echo so just imagine him being so unruffled by someone accidentally interrupting his self care and it’s the prettiest woman he’s ever seen the only woman he’s seen in months and he’s so eager to help you he just ~accidentally~ makes your car troubles worse and just ~accidentally~ has only one bed available and oops guess we have to share 🤭 he’s so touch starved and giving dark stepdaddy leon energy just noncon all the way, you wake up with him in you while being choked by the rosary he always keeps on and he’s just praying over your fucked out limp body and starts murmuring while kissing away your tears because he’s too big but he accidentally totally not on purpose slips it in the wrong hole and tears you causing you to bite down on his hand he shoves in your mouth while you scream but he doesn’t stop despite how tight your asshole is he just uses your blood as lube to make it less friction-y for him and he says he can’t get someone out to help with your car so you’re stuck with him for weeks and he’s does shit like hide your clothes so you’re either naked or in his clothes ugh 😩 i could ramble for ages about older priest leon 🤭

- 💀

(real dad leon has had me in a chokehold, pun intended, since my depressive episode started like imagine your parents got divorced and you’re spending the summer with your dad who’s getting paid leave because claire can’t believe he actually wants to spend time with his family totally not why readers mom divorced him and he sees you in bikini for the first time to just absolutely loose his shit and spend the entire time in the kitchen because the sliding glass door is the closest he can get to you without wanting to rail you and you notice your bikini goes missing before you do your laundry and he catches you snooping through his room to try and find it so he has to punish you 🫣 idk how rough he would be but i feel like i’ve sent enough asks in for the idea of what i would want to be there jsit insyert anything dark stepdaddy leon would do lol, i’ve also read your more recent fics and they’re so good!!!!! i love stepbro leon i would love to see more mean older stepbro leon who just bullies reader even in front of their parents and doesn’t even hide his arousal when he makes you cry like him pulling really sexual jokes and pranks on you to humiliate you because he can tell you like him 👀)

💀 anon!!!!!!! 🤩 🤩 welcome back!!! 💜

It has been many moons since you’ve been here!! I’m sorry that depression is getting to you, sending you lots of hugs!!! 🫂

Will put a cut as this reply gets long AF 🤣

AHSJGL 🫣 not him getting caught watching some cheesy porno 🤭 ugh just waking up with him already buried in your pussy is making my head 🥴 like maybe you were a little flirty with him after you saw him in such compromising way (and he’s not bad on the eyes 😜)

But it’s still unexpected when you wake up to feeling uncomfortably full, pussy stretched out and pulsing around his cock as he ruts into you slowly 😵‍💫 and he’s just telling you how well you’re taking it, how hot and wet you are, how much he needed this soft pussy wrapped around his dick 🥴

Painal (I think that’s what that is right? Ugh I probably should google it but I don’t wanna see the results 🤣) is 50/50 for me 🫣 it’s hot but at the same time I’m like drawing my body inward cause ouchie 😆 but him not caring and just needing to use a hole to cum? 🥵 yes please 🫣

AGSJVL not dad Leon getting mad when reader correctly guesses he took her bikini 🤭 ugh I love mean Leon so much so I’m kinda with you on that 😉 loves to spank her if she gets out of line; like makes her take her panties off so he can spank her bare ass 🥴 doesn’t matter that you’re too old for it; he’s still your dad and it’s his house

Mean stepbro!! I’ve made him softer as I keep writing him 😅 he can’t help it, he just loves reader now 😝

But yes, he’s the kind of bully who definitely puts his hand down on the couch cushion before you sit so he’s groping your ass/pussy before you jump up. Laughs it off to your parents in the room saying it was a joke. Pinches your nipples as he passes by you, playing it off as trying to pinch your side 🫣

[invisibleraven]

"I'm glad that you are here." + Rulie?

"You nervous?" Julie asked.

"Even if I am, there's no getting out of it now," Reggie replied, offering her a weak smile. "Better or worse, this is necessary."

"At least then it'll be all over," Julie said, snuggling into his side, wishing she couldn't feel all his ribs, wishing his skin wasn't so grey and clammy.

"You're telling me," Reggie replied, tossing his head back on the pillow. "No more chemo, no more radiation. Just this one surgery, and some immunotherapy, and it's all done."

"Thank God," Julie whispered, holding him all the tighter. She didn't know what she would do if cancer stole another person from her life. But unlike with her mom, they caught Reggie's early, and it was much less aggressive.

After this, he would be in remission, and could hopefully slowly get back to his life. They could start planning again; for a future, for a family. For more time together.

"You think my hair will grow back different?" Reggie mused. "I've heard it does sometimes."

"I don't care if it grows back at all," Julie comments. "I'm just glad that you're here." She rubbed her hand over his smooth head, just to make him smile, then down his face. "I do kind of miss your eyebrows though."

"Yeah, my luck I'll grow caterpillars there instead," Reggie jested. Catching her hand to press a kiss to her knuckles. "Thank you for being here through all this. I don't know what I would have done without you by my side."

"We promised in sickness and in health right?" Julie reminded him with a wet laugh, swiping the tears from her eyes. This past year had been the hardest in her life, testing her beyond her limits, testing their marriage, but through it all, she stayed. She loved Reggie more than anything, and if cancer thought it was taking him from her, it had another thing coming.

"We did indeed," Reggie replied quietly. Yawning, he blinked at Julie. "Will you be there when I wake up?"

"I wouldn't dream of being anywhere else," Julie promised him. "Sleep now, they'll be coming for you first thing in the morning."

"Kiss?" he asked, as he did every night before falling asleep, and Julie granted him that wish, just as she always did. Only getting up from the narrow hospital bed when his breathing slowed and she was sure he was asleep.

She wished she could curl up into his embrace and sleep herself, but her mind was racing, and there was a boatload of paperwork to be signed before the surgery.

Plus she wanted to stop by the chapel, just for a moment. Reggie wasn't religious but her faith had never really left her, so she wanted to offer up a prayer, a plea, anything to see Reggie through this. To come out the other side healthy and whole once more.

Of course she knew he was forever changed by this experience, they both were. But she hoped that now they could only grow stronger from this, and more importantly, grow together.

She sat by his side all night, memorizing his features, hoping this wouldn't be the last time she saw them. Wished him luck and granting him a kiss which she believed might just be their last and only let herself cry once he was gone from sight. Let her father and Luke hold her as they waited. Let Alex and Willie force her to eat, let Flynn and Carrie distract her with gossip. Let her aunt and brother assure her with facts and faith alike.

But Julie is sure she doesn't breathe again until hours later when the doctor tells her it's been a success and Reggie is resting in his room.

"Can I see him please?"

The doctor nods and directs her to the recovery ward, letting her have a moment. Reggie is still thin and pale, tubes and wires every which where. But his eyes light up when he sees her, giving her a weak, drowsy smile. "Hey darlin'."

"Told you I'd be here," she says, blubbering the whole time, rushing to take his hand, rain kisses on his cheeks.

"So am I," he said, "and I always will be, I promise."

"Good," Julie replied. "I'm holding you to that."

Reggie fell back to sleep soon after that, and Julie followed suit in the uncomfortable chair beside him, twin smiles on their faces, and even in slumber, their hands never let go of one another.

And they never would, not for the rest of their very long lives.

[blxckdragonfly]

Still Falling For You (Darkness Finds You Universe #12)

(Song: "Still Falling For You" by Ellie Goulding.

Warnings: Mention of Death, Nightmares, Grief, Hurt/Comfort, NSFW-esque smut/ light scarf play towards the end. That means-- minors: scoot.

Pairing: Chris Motionless & Lycia Winters "pronunciation of her name-- Lai-shuh" (played by Ana De Armas)

Word Count: 9,507

Synopsis: After arriving back home in Baltimore and staying for a bit to check on Adrian's condition, Lycia has a horrific nightmare and Chris takes it upon himself to make sure she forgets her worries.

And we're back! It's been a while since I wrote more with these two! I'm sorry it took a bit to finish part two but there's a lot of stuff in this one so I hope you enjoy! x Tiger)

Chris and Lycia’s Airbnb: September 10th, 2023– Baltimore, Maryland. 

I was inside of a chapel, I could see so many people filling up the pews of the chapel and they were wearing black from top to bottom. I keep walking down the aisle until I stop completely in my tracks, there are two caskets at the front that are closed and I look up to see the portraits of both Marcus and Adrian staring back at me. 

Slowly, all of the mourners turn their heads toward me and stare at me as the caskets begin to open, revealing the corpses of my little brother and the burnt corpse of my ex-boyfriend. I jump back in fright as they approach me one by one. 

“Why didn’t you save us, Lycia?” Their voices hissed in an eerie tone. I begin to panic, falling to my knees and crying as I rock back and forth. 

“I’m sorry,” I say over and over. “I’m sorry.” 

I woke up with a start, my heart pounding in my chest. Beads of sweat clinging to my forehead as I struggle to catch my breath, the remnants of my nightmare still lingering and haunting my mind. I glance over at Chris, who lays peacefully asleep behind me, unaware of the turmoil that has just unfolded within my subconscious. I want nothing more than to curl in his arms and forget about the vivid images that have plagued me in my sleep. 

But I know I couldn’t escape the darkness that seems to surround me. Quietly slipping out of bed in the Airbnb that Chris and I have been staying in, I tiptoe toward the window, drawing back the curtains to let in the faint light of dawn. 

Baltimore’s skyline stretches out before me, its familiar contours offering a sense of comfort amidst the lingering fear. I continue to tiptoe out of the room and head downstairs in the search for coffee. As I descend the stairs, the creaking floorboards echo through the quiet house. I feel a chill run down my spine, as if the nightmare is seeping into my waking moments. The lingering scent of brewed coffee draws me towards the kitchen, a beacon of warmth and solace. 

But as I walk into the kitchen, I freeze in my tracks. The coffee machine stands silent and still, its usual bubbling and brewing absent. I frown, a pang of disappointment settling in my chest. It seems even the simplest comforts were denied for me today. 

Just as I turn to leave, a soft voice startles me from behind. “Looking for this?” 

I spin around to see Chris standing there, awake and holding a steaming mug of coffee. I rest my red nailed hand against my racing heart and take a deep breath. 

“Babe, you scared me.” I say as I rush forward to take it from him. Cradling the warm ceramic in my hands, I meet his concerned brown eyes. 

“I’m sorry, honey. I didn’t mean to scare you,” Chris begins but his words are cut off as he notices that I’m about to cry. “Hey. Shhhh. What’s the matter?” 

I look up at Chris, my eyes welling with tears. The remnants of the nightmare still clings onto me, refusing to loosen its grip on my mind. I take a shaky breath, struggling to find the words to express the overwhelming fear that’s consuming me. 

“I… I had a nightmare,” I finally manage to say, my voice trembling and breaking. “It was so vivid, Chris. I saw… I saw Marcus and Adrian, even though I know Adrian’s still in the hospital. They were in a chapel, their coffins opened and they accused me.” 

Chris wraps his arms around me, pulling me close and offering me the warmth and comfort I so desperately sought. His touch is soothing, his voice gentle as he leans in to whisper in my ear. 

“It was just a nightmare, baby,” He murmured, his words a balm against my tears. “You’re doing everything you possibly can for Adrian as he’s dealing with his illness and Marcus… Well, we both know what happened to him wasn’t your fault.” 

I nod, my tears staining Chris’s shirt. I know deep down that he’s right, but the nightmare had shaken me to my core. It feels as if the weight of the guilt and responsibility is suffocating me. 

“I know,” I whisper, my voice barely audible. “But it’s hard not to blame myself for Marcus when he burned himself alive. I can’t help but always think that if I had done something differently, things would be different now.” 

Chris holds me tighter, his grip a lifeline amidst the storm of my emotions. He knows the pain I carry, the guilt that threatens to consume me. But he also knows that no amount of self-blame would be able to bring Marcus back or change the past and it’s his duty, as my partner, to remind me of that truth. 

“We all have regrets, Lycia,” He said softly. “But blaming yourself for Marcus’s tragic end won’t bring him back. You loved him fiercely and sometimes love isn’t enough to save someone from their demons.” 

I nod, my tears subsiding as I take in his comforting words and knowing that he’s right again. The burden of guilt is not my own to bear alone. Marcus did battle his demons and despite my love for him, I couldn’t have single-handedly rescued him from his pain. With a new found clarity, I wipe my tears and I look up at Chris. 

“Thank you,” I whisper, gratitude filling my voice. “Thank you for reminding me that I can’t always carry the weight of the world on my shoulders.” 

Chris smiles gently, his eyes filling with unwavering support. He presses a soft kiss to my forehead, his touch tender and reassuring. 

“You don’t have to face this alone,” He replies. “We’re in this together. Remember?” 

I nod, my heart swelling with love for the man standing before me. In this moment, I know that no matter what darkness comes our way, we will always be able to handle it together. I take a deep breath and close my eyes, feeling the weight of my nightmares beginning to lift from my shoulders. 

A moment of silence passes and I open my eyes again, I stare into the warm brown of Chris’s eyes, before setting down my coffee mug on the counter and I wrap my arms around his tattooed neck, my red nails running through his short purple hair. Chris gives a small hum and he leans closer into my touch. 

“I never told you how hard that day was,” I murmur, my voice soft as Chris looks at me. “The day I had to bury him. Marcus.” 

Chris holds me tighter, his heart aching for me as I take another breath before deciding to open up about the pain that I carry alone. He knows it’s time for me to share my burden, to release the weight of my unspoken words. 

“I can’t even begin to imagine,” Chris responds, his voice filled with empathy. “Tell me, Lycia Rose. Tell me about that day.” 

I steady myself before I begin to recount the painful memories that have haunted me for so long. 

“The day was cold and gray,” I begin, my voice trembling slightly. “The cemetery was quiet, almost eerily so. As I stood there, surrounded by mournful silence, I couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of guilt and sorrow.” 

I pause for a moment, memories flooding back to my mind like a torrential downpour. 

“I remember how hard it was to watch them lower Marcus’s casket into the ground,” I continue, tears threatening to spill from my eyes once more as a wave of grief passes through me. “I felt this overwhelming sense of loss, like a part of my soul was being buried alongside him.” 

Chris listens intently, his heart breaking for me as he realizes the depth of the pain I endured alone. 

“And when they handed me a handful of dirt to toss onto his casket, I couldn’t do it. Not because of the sadness that I felt, but also because I could hear Marcus’s family– his parents and sister, they were so angry with me. They blamed me for being the cause of his death and they humiliated me and I…” I feel tears slowly fall down my cheeks as I tighten my arms slightly around Chris’s neck. 

Chris holds me even closer, his heart aching for me as I relive the painful memories. He can’t imagine the weight of the guilt and shame I had to carry for so long. Gently wiping away my tears with his tattooed thumb, he speaks in a voice filled with compassion. 

“Oh, Lycia. I’m so sorry you had to experience that,” Chris murmured. “No one should have to endure such cruelty during such a difficult time– especially in a setting like a funeral service. You didn’t deserve any of it.” 

I nod, my throat tight with emotion. I have never shared these painful details with Chris before, even when we were first seeing each other. But now, as I feel his unwavering support and understanding, I know it’s time to let go of these burdens that have weighed me down for so long. 

“T-They blamed me for everything,” I whisper, my voice trembling with a mix of anger and sadness. “They couldn’t see past their grief to understand that Marcus’s pain ran deeper than anyone could comprehend. And instead of offering compassion or trying to understand– they chose to direct their anger at me.” 

Chris tightens his grip around me, his heart heavy with the weight of my words. He knows all too well of the pain of being judged by others. But in that moment, he refuses to let me feel alone in my anguish. 

“Honey, you didn’t fucking deserve any of that,” Chris said firmly, his voice filled with conviction. “Marcus’s family was hurting and it was easier for them to blame rather than face the reality of what happened. You were there for him until the very end. You loved him and that love shouldn’t be tarnished by their ignorance.” 

I sigh as I begin to calm down, my tears once again start to dry as Chris continues to hold me close. I know that my ex-boyfriend’s family had been in an immense amount of grief but it didn’t make it any less hurtful. 

“I couldn’t understand why they blamed me,” I whisper, my voice barely audible. “Why couldn’t they see that I didn’t cause his death? I wanted to help him, to save him from the darkness but I just… I couldn’t.” 

Chris presses a gentle kiss to my temple, his lips lingering against my skin for a moment before he speaks. 

“People often look for someone to blame, especially in the face of a tragedy,” He says, his voice soft and soothing. “It’s easier for them to find a target, rather than confront the difficult truth that sometimes we can’t save the ones we love, no matter how hard we try.” 

I nod, my heart finally finding solace in Chris’s words. I have carried the weight of this blame for far too long, blaming myself for something I have no control over. But now, with Chris by my side, I know I’m healing even if it takes one step at a time. 

Fire and ice

This love is like fire and ice

This love is like rain and blue skies

“But you know there is something good that came out of this,” Chris says as I look up at him, my yellow-green hazel eyes meeting his brown ones. “If you hadn’t gone through all of this, Lycia, I would have never met you– let alone fallen in love with you. Things would be totally different for you and I.” 

I smile through my lingering tears, my heart overflowing with gratitude for the man who stands before me. In that moment, I realize that all of the pain and heartache I endured did indeed bring me to this incredible love and understanding that I now have with Chris Motionless. Chris has not just become my rock, he’s my anchor and source of strength when I feel weakest. 

“You’re right,” I whisper as I trace my fingers along his tattooed neck, stroking the calligraphy lyric from “Saturday Night” by Misfits and his winged coffin tattoo with the most loving touch. “Meeting you, falling in love with you– It’s the silver lining in all of this darkness. I couldn’t have asked for a better partner to share this journey with than you, Chris Cerulli.” 

As the words leave my lips, I feel a wave of warmth wash over me. I smile at Chris, my heart filled with love and gratitude. He returns my smile, his brown eyes twinkling with affection. 

“And I couldn’t have asked for a better woman to be on this journey with than you, Lycia,” Chris whispers, gently caressing my face. “I’m so glad our paths crossed and I’m honored to be by your side, through all the ups and downs, good and bad.” 

With that, Chris lifts my chin and kisses me softly, our lips meeting with a tenderness that speaks volumes. The kiss was slow, filled with unspoken words of love and understanding. 

As we pull away, I wrap my arms around Chris once more, burying my face in his neck. I kiss along his tattooed skin all the way up to his cheek, my lips lingering on his jawline before I whisper: “I love you, Chris.” 

Chris wraps his arms around my waist and he kisses my forehead a few times, his heart swelling with emotion. 

“I love you too, Lycia,” He replies, his voice filled with sincerity. 

Before I can meet his lips in another passionate kiss, I hear my phone go off. I look at Chris and sigh as I pick it to see a text message from Nicholas: 

Hey, sis. I have a bit of bad news– Adrian’s condition has gotten worse overnight. The doctors have found an abscess in his right lung due to the pneumonia. He’s on a ventilator until they can take him in for surgery later on tonight. 

My hands start to shake as I read the words on my phone screen, my heart sinking with each passing second. Panic claws at my chest, threatening to suffocate me. I can’t lose another person that I love. Not after everything I’ve been through with Marcus. Chris notices the change in my demeanor, concern etches across his face. 

“What is it, baby?” He asks, his voice laced with worry. I struggle to find my voice, tears welling up in my eyes again. 

“It’s Adrian,” I manage to choke out. “He’s… He’s gotten worse.” 

Without hesitation, Chris takes my hand in his and he squeezes it lightly, he kisses the back of my hand as he offers a steadying presence amidst the chaos of emotions. 

“Tell your brother we’ll be there as soon as we can,” He said firmly. “And then after we go check on Adrian, I’m gonna take you out for a nice lunch and then we can come back here. I know how hard this has been for you and all I want is to take your mind off it. How does that sound?” 

I look into Chris’s eyes, grateful for his unwavering support and understanding. I nod, a mix of gratitude and worry etches on my face. Chris presses a comforting kiss on my forehead before we set our mugs in the sink and go upstairs to get ready. 

I put on some light make up and change from my pajamas to an oversized stone colored tee with a celestial design on the front and back from Nasty Gal, my wet look leggings from Black Milk Clothing, a pair of gold hoop earrings to match my wolf necklace and gold coffin ring and a pair of black faux leather boots and I put on a black beanie. 

As I’m finishing getting ready, I notice a flash of dark purple cross my vision when I look into the bathroom mirror. I turn around to see Chris holding my favorite flower, a Queen of The Night tulip in his hand. 

“Oh, Chris. Aren’t you just the sweetest?” I whisper as I blink away tears. Chris smiles warmly at me, he knows how much I adore Queen of The Night tulips and he wants to bring me a moment of joy amidst the chaos we’re facing. 

“Not as sweet as you are, my Lycia,” Chris replies, his voice filled with tenderness. “I just wanted to remind you that even in the darkest times, there is always beauty and love.” 

I take the tulip from Chris, holding it delicately in my hands. With a smile of my own, I lean in and press a soft kiss against his lips, savoring the taste of his sweetness mingling with the scent of the tulip. When we break apart, I tuck the tulip behind my ear. 

Together, we make our way to the hospital, our hands tightly intertwined. My heart races with a mix of fear and hope as we enter Adrian’s room. Tubes and machines surround him as well as an oxygen mask to help him breathe, the stark reminder of the fragility of life. Despite it all, Adrian lay there peacefully, his face serene in the midst of his battle, his long brown hair over his eyes. 

I spot Nicholas and Colin standing near the window, their gazes fixed on Adrian. Their eyes were both red-rimmed with worry and lack of sleep. When they notice us approaching, Nicholas turns to us with a weary smile. 

“Hey,” Nicholas whispers, his voice filled with exhaustion. “We’re glad you guys are here.” 

I embrace each of them tightly, trying to convey comfort through my touch as Chris stands beside them, offering silent support. They’re a united front in the face of adversity. 

“How is he?” I ask, my voice shaking. 

Nicholas sighs heavily as he looks at me before responding. “The doctors are doing everything they can but… It’s not looking good right now.” 

My heart sinks at Nicholas’s words, the weight of the situation pressing down on me. I glance over at Adrian, his shallow breathing barely visible beneath the oxygen mask. The room is filled with an air of helplessness, each second ticking by with a sense of urgency and despair. 

This love is like sun on the rise

This love got me rolling the dice

Don't let me lose

Chris stands beside me, his presence a steady anchor amidst the storm. His hand finds mine, fingers intertwining in a comforting embrace. My thumb tracing the jack o’ lantern on the back of his left hand. 

Our eyes meet and we both know that no matter what happens, we will face it together. Love flows between us like a lifeline, providing strength and solace in the midst of uncertainty. 

As a few hours stretch on, Chris and I stay by Adrian’s side, our eyes never straying his fragile form. The beeping of monitors fills the room, creating a dissonant symphony that mirrors the tumultuous emotion swirling within it. 

Suddenly, a commotion at the door draws our attention. A team of doctors and nurses rush in, their urgent movements cutting through the heavy silence. My heart skips a beat, my grip on Chris’s hand tightening as fear grips me. 

One of the doctors, a middle-aged woman with dark skin and light brown hair and kind eyes, approaches us with a sympathetic smile. 

“My name is Dr. Lewis,” She introduces herself. “We have some news.” 

My heart pounds in my chest as I brace myself for whatever Dr. Lewis is about to say. Chris squeezes my hand reassuringly, silently reminding me that we’re in this together. 

“We managed to stabilize Adrian for now,” Dr. Lewis begins gently, her voice laced with caution and hope. “But he’s still in critical condition.” 

My breath catches in my throat as the news sinks in. I look at Chris, and he meets my gaze with a steady and supportive expression. Our hands are still entwined, a silent testament to the strength of our bond. 

“However,” continues Dr. Lewis, “We’ve made some progress in finding the source of the infection– which was indeed transmitted from a case of COVID-19, and we’re hoping to start treatment soon. It’s going to be a long road to recovery but we’re optimistic about Adrian’s chances.” 

My heart swells with gratitude at Dr. Lewis’s words, even as I still feel the weight of the situation hanging over us. I know that we have a long road ahead and every moment would be filled with both hope and terror. But with Chris by my side, I know I can face anything. 

Nicholas and Colin both share a brief moment of relief, though the worry lingers in their eyes. They know the fight isn't over yet, but they are glad for any sign of progress. 

“Thank you, doctor,” Nicholas says as Dr. Lewis nods and walks off to see the next patient. “Chris, why don’t you and Lycia go? Lycia, I’ll text you if there’s any updates.” 

I nod, squeezing Chris’s hand one last time before we walk out of the hospital room. I feel a mix of emotions– hope, fear, love. Chris leads me out, his hand still wraps around mine, guiding me gently towards the exit. 

As we leave the hospital, we find that the sky is beginning to darken and decide to grab the lunch we promised each other earlier. We find a small Italian restaurant that serves vegan options on the way back to the Airbnb and are led to a cozy table by the window. The warm atmosphere and the scent of garlic bread fills our senses as we both take a deep breath. 

“Are you hungry, honey? Or do you want to just sit here a while?” Chris asks, concerned as he reaches across the table and takes both of my hands in his, his thumbs tracing my moon tattoo on the corner of my right wrist and the red inked snake tattoo on my outer forearm. 

He can see the strain in my eyes, but he doesn’t want to push me too hard. I give Chris a grateful smile, my heart swelling with love for him. 

“I’m hungry,” I admit, my voice laced with exhaustion. “But more than anything, I just want to be here with you. To have a moment of peace from the chaos.” 

Still falling for you

Still falling for you

Beautiful mind

Chris nods understandingly, his brown gaze filled with tenderness. “Then let’s take this time to just be,” He replies softly. 

We sit in silence, our hands still intertwined, as we watch the world go by through the window. The sounds of laughter and chatter from other diners fill the air, creating a comforting backdrop to our shared moment of respite. 

Our plates arrive, steaming with delicious vegan food that fills the air with mouth watering aromas. My stomach growls, reminding me of my hunger. I can’t help but smile at the sight of food before me, grateful for this simple pleasure to get me away from the chaos. 

As we dig into our meal, the heaviness in our hearts begin to ease up ever so slightly. It’s moments like these– when we are allowed to forget, even just for a little while– that gives us the strength to keep fighting. 

I reach across the table and take a bite from Chris’s vegan pasta, a playful glimmer in my yellow-green hazel eyes. 

“Mm. This is amazing,” I say with a grin. “You always know how to find the best places.” 

Chris chuckles and nods in agreement. 

“It’s all about finding those hidden gems, babe,” He replies, his brown eyes sparkling with amusement. “And sharing them with you.” 

While we eat our meal, we keep our conversation light and Chris does everything he can to keep me smiling and laughing. After we pay the bill and leave the restaurant, I lightly squeeze his hand. 

“Before we head back to the Airbnb,” I say. “I want to go visit Marcus’s gravesite. I haven’t been there in a while.” 

Chris nods, understanding my need to go and visit the place where my ex now laid. As we walk toward the cemetery, hand in hand, I can feel my grief coming back– the memories of how cheerful Marcus had been when he was with me, before he lit himself on fire. As we approach the familiar white marble gravestone that reads: 

Marcus Luis Reyes

July 27th, 1984- March 14th, 2019

Devoted Son and Brother 

I take a deep breath and I let out a sob. 

“I can’t believe it’s been almost four years since he died,” I say, tears streaming down my cheeks. “I still miss him so much.” 

“Oh, my Lycia. Don’t cry,” Chris murmurs as he approaches me, wrapping his arms around me. 

“If it wasn’t for me, I know he would still be here,” I sniffle. “Maybe his family is right after all. I am the reason he’s dead.” 

Chris holds me tightly in his arms, brushing away my tears with his tattooed thumbs. 

“Lycia, babe, it’s not your fault,” He whispers into my hair, trying to calm the storm of emotions that threatens to consume me. “Marcus made his own choices, and we can’t blame ourselves for the actions of others. You loved him, and that doesn’t mean you caused his death.” 

He pulls back slightly so he can look into my yellow-green hazel eyes with the same love and comfort that he’d given to me. “The hardest part of grief is accepting that we can’t control even if we wish we could and honey, I know how hard that is for you. But you cannot hold onto that guilt, do you hear me? You were the one person who loved him enough to try and help him through his darkness and you did everything in your power to do so. That’s not something to be ashamed of. That’s something to be proud of, Lycia Rose.” 

I nod, wiping my tears with the back of my hand. I take a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to clear my mind of the guilt that haunted me. I know that Chris is right, but it’s still a difficult thing to accept fully. 

Suddenly, it started to rain, the water droplets coating both me and Chris, my grief finally subsides and I smile as I remember when he and his band, Motionless In White had played a set at Inkcarceration Festival a few months back and it was raining heavily the entire day. My heart flutters in my chest as the thought of when Chris had pulled me aside into the rain and kissed me so deeply, it made me melt. 

Your heart gave me new kind of highs

Your heart got me feeling so fine

So what to do

Still falling for you

Still falling for you

Lost in the memory, I suddenly look up and see Chris’s reflection in the water droplets on my eyelashes. He gently reaches out and wipes them from my face with his black painted thumb, his eyes mirroring the same amount of love I feel for him. 

“No matter what, I will always catch you when you fall,” He said softly, his voice carrying a promise that makes my heart melt with gratitude and love. 

“I know you will, because there’s no one else in this world that I’d rather have caught me than you, Christopher Cerulli. I love you so much,” I whisper. 

Chris smiles at me, his heart warming at my words. He reaches up and carefully brushes a strand of my long caramel brown and purple hair from my face, tucking it gently behind my ear. “And I love you, Lycia, more than words can ever say.” 

He leans down and kisses me tenderly, our lips meeting in a tender and loving way. I wrap my arms around him, my fingers running through his short purple hair and down the back of his tattooed neck, he shivers at my fingernails brushing his skin as he deepens our kiss. 

As we stand there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the rain continues to pour down, washing away some of the pain I felt from my past. I close my eyes and let myself be lost in the moment, feeling the softness of Chris’s shirt against my skin and the warmth of his touch. 

Chris pulls back slightly, his brown eyes filled with a love so deeply, it makes my heart melt. 

“Would you like to go back to the Airbnb, baby?” He says, his voice soft and tender. 

I smile, my heart swelling with love for Chris. I nod and gently squeeze his hand. 

“Yes, let’s go back,” I reply, my voice filled with warmth. “I just want to chill in your arms.” 

Chris gives me a small sideways smile as he leads me back to the car, our hands still tightly locked together. The rain continued to pour as we drove back to the Airbnb.

When we arrive, I unlock the door and we walk inside, shaking off the rain as we enter. Once inside, I wrap my arms around Chris, my body shaking with the remnants of my tears. He holds me tightly, his chin resting on my hair after I’d taken off my beanie. We stand like that for a moment, just enjoying the warmth of our embrace. 

“Do you want to take a shower together?” Chris asks, his voice gentle. “Maybe it’ll help you feel better.” 

I nod, a small smile tugging at the corners of my lips. The idea of sharing such an intimate moment under the warm rush of water sounded comforting, a way to wash away the lingering sadness and worry of the day that still clings to me. 

We make our way to the bathroom, our footsteps muffled by the plush carpeting as we slowly undress. Chris turns on the shower, adjusting the temperature until it’s just right- warm and soothing. I step in first, letting the water cascade down my body, feeling its weight ease the tension off my muscles.  

Chris joins moments later, his presence filling the small space with a sense of intimacy that only we can share. He wraps his tattooed arms around me from behind, pulling me close as we stand beneath the steady stream of water. I lean into his embrace, feeling the strength and warmth of his body against mine. 

It took us a while

With every breath a new day

With love on the line

We've had our share of mistakes

Chris kisses a path from my shoulder, all the way up to my neck and to my earlobe, his warm breath on my skin making me shiver slightly. His hands trace my fox and deer antler tattoos before he rubs my breasts. 

“That’s right, beautiful. Relax,” Chris murmurs as he kisses the side of my throat as he continues to massage my skin. “Let go of everything that’s troubling you right now. Just stay in this moment with me.” 

I close my eyes, allowing Chris’s words to wash over me, grounding me in the present. The water continues to pour down on us, a steady rhythm that matches the beating of our hearts. I let go of everything else, giving myself fully to the moment and to the love that I share with Chris as he washes my hair and body. 

After we’re clean, we step out of the shower and wrap ourselves in towels. He then takes both of my hands and walks me back into the bedroom of our Airbnb, where the king sized bed is waiting for us. 

Chris suddenly and playfully pushes me on my back on the bed after we have changed into our comfortable clothes for the night, making me giggle as I look up at him and I signal to him with my finger to come to me and he slowly obliges with a chuckle of his own. 

Chris gets into bed with me, wrapping his tattooed arms around me as I lay my head on his bare tattooed chest, my fingers trace the unfinished haunted house tattoo on his chest and stomach. 

We lay there in silence for a while into the night, wrapped in each other’s embrace while the storm continued outside of our Airbnb, rain pelting against the window panes. I smell his familiar scent of cologne, coffee and a hint of pumpkin spice and I relax into his body. 

“Lycia?” Chris asks as I hum in response into his skin. “Tell me, what do you love most about me?” 

I grin as I look up at him, my chin resting on his chest. “Holy shit, thanks for that,” I say as he laughed softly. 

“For what?” He replies. 

“For that really big question,” I continue. “There are so many things that I love you for, if I were to tell you, it would take all night.” 

‘“Let me hear every single one of them,” He whispers as he tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear. “Make me fall in love with you all over again.” 

And just like that

All I breathe

All I feel

You are all for me

My eyes sparkle as I think about all the things that I love most about Chris. I lean in and kiss him for a second before I decide to speak. 

“Where do I start?” I murmur, smiling up at him. “I love the way your eyes light up when you’re performing on stage and how you always make me laugh with your goofy jokes.” 

Chris chuckles, nodding. “Go on.” 

“I love the way you take care of me, how you listen to me when I’m feeling down and help me see the good in things,” I continue, my voice soft and tender. “And I love how you can be both strong and gentle, fierce and caring all at the same time.” 

Chris leans down, placing a gentle kiss on my forehead. “Keep going, babe. I want to hear everything.” 

I close my eyes, basking in the warmth of his touch. “I love the way your voice sounds when you sing, the way your brown eyes shine like melted chocolate and the way your tattooed arms hold me close.” I whisper. “I love the way you cook and the fact that you’re a total nerd when it comes to video games and hockey.” 

I laugh softly as I look at him, my hand moving up to caress his face. “And most of all, I love you for who you are, Chris. Whether you’re Chris Motionless or just being my Chris, you will always be the man of my dreams.” 

Chris smiles, his heart swelling with love. He kisses me deeply, pouring all of his emotion into that moment. 

“Lycia,” He begins, his voice a mixture of tenderness and devotion. “I promise to always be here for you, to support you in everything that you do as a photographer. I will be your rock, your confidant, and your biggest fan. I will make you laugh when you’re sad and hold you tight when the world feels overwhelming and I promise to love you fiercely, with every beat of my heart.” 

Before I can speak, a deafening crash of thunder echoes through the room and jolts us from our reverie. I instinctively cling tighter to Chris, seeking solace in his embrace as my scream is muffled into the sheets below. 

“Shh, honey. It’s just a storm,” He murmurs into my hair, his voice soothing and steady. “You’re safe with me, I’ve got you in my arms.” 

You are all for me

I'm in

And just like that

All I breathe

All I feel

As the storm intensifies, Chris decides to distract me from my anxiety over thunderstorms while he’s holding me and whispering comforting words to me. He reaches over to the nightstand and pulls out a deck of playing cards, a mischievous glint in his eyes. 

“Hey, how about we play a game to take our minds off the storm?” He suggests, with a playful smile curling on his lips. I look up at him, my eyes still wide with unease. But I can't resist his infectious enthusiasm. With a hesitant nod, I agree. 

Chris shuffles the cards expertly, his tattooed fingers moving with precision and speed. He deals us each a hand, our fingers brushing against each other with every card that’s put on the bed sheet between us. 

“What happens if I win?” I say softly as I look into Chris’s eyes. 

“If you win, I’ll spend the rest of tonight kissing every inch of you,” Chris whispers, seductively. 

I blush, a mixture of excitement and nerves coursing through my veins. I have always loved the way that Chris kisses me, his lips so tender and yet full of passion. The thought of him showering me with kisses all night makes my heart race. 

“And what if you win?” I ask, trying to hide my anticipation. 

A devilish grin spreads across Chris’s face as he leans in closer to me, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. 

“If I win,” He says, tracing circles on the back of my hand with his index finger. “You have to fulfill one fantasy of mine.” 

My eyes widen, a mixture of curiosity and excitement dancing in my gaze. I bite my lip, feeling a course of adrenaline coursing through me. 

“And what might that be?” I whisper, my voice barely audible above the sound of the rain pouring against the window. Chris leans in even closer, his warm breath brushing against my ear as he speaks. 

“I want to blindfold you,” He murmurs, his voice dripping with desire. My breath hitches at his words. The thought of surrendering control to Chris ignites a fire within me. I gaze into his eyes, seeing the desire mirrored in their depths. 

“Deal,” I whisper back, my voice laced with anticipation. Chris leans back and continues the game of cards. 

You are all for me

No one can lift me, catch me the way that you do

I'm still falling for you

We play onward, our focus shifting from the storm raging outside to the intense competition between us. Each hand we play is an opportunity for laughter, teasing and stolen glances. As the game wears on, the tension in the room grows, matching the intensity of the storm. 

Eventually, I find myself on the verge of victory. My final card lays the key to winning the game but as I reach to lay it down, an enormous crash of thunder shakes the Airbnb, the lights flicker before plunging us into darkness. 

Startled, I gasp and instinctively reach for Chris, seeking comfort in his touch. At this moment, the reality of our situation sinks in. The storm has knocked out the power, leaving us in complete darkness. 

Chris holds me tightly and whispers reassurances in my ear. “It’s okay, baby. We’ll find a way through this. We just have to stick together.” 

I nod against his chest as I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself amidst the darkness and uncertainty. I realize that this unexpected turn of events could be an opportunity to strengthen our bond even farther. 

Brighter than gold

This love shining brighter than gold

This love is like letters in bold

This love is like out of control

With newfound determination, I make a decision. “Chris,” I say firmly. “Let’s continue our game by candlelight.” 

A smile spreads across Chris’s face as he realizes the significance of my words. Without hesitation, he releases his grip on me and fumbles through the darkness until he finds a box of matches. He strikes one against the rough surface, and a flickering flame illuminates the room. 

As the candlelight bathes the room in a warm glow, I feel a surge of courage. I reach for Chris’s hand, intertwining my fingers with his and lead him back to the edge of the bed where we have been playing. 

With the deck of cards in hand, we sit down cross-legged from each other. The flickering flame casts dancing shadows across our faces as we resume our game. As the final card is placed on the bed sheet, I hold my breath, hoping for a miracle but luck isn’t on my side tonight. 

“Full house,” Chris declares, his brown eyes gleaming with triumph. My heart sinks as I realize that I lost the game. A mixture of excitement and nervousness fills the air as Chris retrieves a black silk blindfold from the nightstand drawer. 

My hands tremble as he places it over my eyes, blocking out my sight. The anticipation grows with each passing second, and I can feel my heart pounding in my chest. 

“Trust me, honey,” Chris whispers into my ear, his warm breath sending shivers down my spine as he slowly undresses me. “I promise you’ll enjoy every moment.” 

This love is never growing old

You make it new

Still falling for you

Still falling for you

I nod, placing all my trust in him. I’m ready to surrender myself completely to his desires. He guides my trembling hands to the headboard, securing them as well with black silk restraints. I feel both vulnerability and excitement coursing through me as he tightens each knot. 

Once I’m securely tied to the headboard, I feel a surge of anticipation. The darkness heightens my senses, making every touch and sound more electrifying. I can hear Chris moving around the room, the rustling of fabric and the click of a drawer being open. 

Then suddenly, there’s silence. My breath heightens as I wait for Chris’s next move. Time seems to stretch on endlessly in the darkness until finally, I hear his voice, low and husky. 

“I want you to feel everything,” He says, his words sending a shiver down my spine. “Every touch, every caress, every sensation.” 

My heart races as I feel something soft and silky slide across my skin– the touch of feathers. They trail along my arms and thighs, leaving a set of goosebumps in their wake. I squirm against the restraints, yearning for more. Chris continues to explore my body with feather-light touches, his every movement precise and calculated. 

I can hardly contain my excitement as I feel the feather dance across my nipples and around my fox and deer antler tattoos, sensing a jolt of pleasure through my whole being. 

As Chris continues to tease me with the feathers, I couldn’t help but wonder what other sensations he has in store for me. 

I can hear the sound of something being uncapped and then a cool, viscous liquid dripping onto my skin. I shiver, both from the sensation and the anticipation of what was to come. My breath hitches once more as the liquid trickles down my skin, leaving a trail of coolness in its wake. 

Chris’s whispered words echo in my mind: “I want you to feel everything.” 

And feel everything I did. As he runs his fingers lightly over the now sensitive areas covered in that cooling liquid. I can feel every sensation heightened. Each touch sends shivers down my spine and my desire for him grows with each passing second. 

Chris’s voice breaks through the silence, his low words sending another shiver down my spine. “Allow me to show you how much I desire you.” 

The sound of fabric being rustled fills the room, and then I feel something soft and velvety against my lips. I open my mouth to take it in, my tongue eager for the taste of whatever it is. As I do, the flavor of vegan chocolate explodes in my mouth. It’s rich and decadent, and as it melts, I feel a warmth spreading through my body. 

As the chocolate lingers on my tongue, I feel a change in the air. The silence is broken by the sound of Chris’s deep breaths, growing heavier with each passing moment. And then suddenly, I feel his lips on mine. 

The kiss is passionate and hungry, our tongues dancing together as our bodies press against each other. I moan into Chris’s mouth, the sensation making my heart race even faster. His hands caress my skin, sending waves of pleasure throughout my body. I can feel every inch of his body against mine, every muscle tight and defined. 

As our kiss deepens, Chris’s hands begin to explore my body, finding the sensitive spots that make shivers run down my spine. His hands trace over the curve of my neck, down my chest, where he massages each of my breasts, and over my heart, his touch sending sensations that threaten to consume me. 

With love on the line

What if we both would need more

But all your flaws and scars are mine

Once again, I hear the sound of fabric rustling and then the sensation of something cool and soft against my skin. As Chris removes the blindfold from my eyes, I gasp at the sight before me. The room is now completely covered in candlelight, illuminating every detail of our passionate encounter. Chris stands before me in nothing more than his black boxer briefs, his muscles rippling with desire. 

Seeing him like this, I feel the need to reach out and touch him, explore every inch of his body as he had explored mine now that he has let me free of my restraints. I reach out and wrap my fingers around his waist, pulling him towards me. I playfully grip his boxer briefs, pulling them down to reveal his hard member, standing proud against his body. 

Without hesitation, I take him in my mouth, my tongue swirling around his head as I suck gently. I hear a groan escape from Chris as pleasure takes over him, his hands gripping the side of the headboard. 

“Fuck, Lycia, your mouth,” Chris moans as I relish in the taste of him, the salty sweetness of his skin mixing with the aroma of arousal. I suck harder, my mouth moving up and down on him in a frenzied rhythm, my tongue darting out to tease and torment him. 

And just like that

All I breathe

All I feel

You are all for me

I'm in

Chris moans louder, his hips bucking involuntarily as he lets himself be consumed by the sensation of my mouth on his length. I can feel his desire building within me, the waves of pleasure washing over me as I continue to pleasure him. I want to feel him inside of me, to be at one with him in the most intimate way possible. 

I release him from my mouth, eyes locking with his, filled with a hunger for him that I’ve never experienced before. 

Chris crawls back onto the bed and we continue exploring each other’s bodies, I want more. I need more. I know that Chris is the only one who can satisfy my desires, who could fulfill any fantasy of mine. 

“Take me,” I whisper hoarsely, as my eyes lock onto Chris’s as I spread my legs wide, the candlelight giving my phoenix tattoo on my hip an ethereal glow as I invite him in. Chris doesn’t need to be told twice. He positions himself at my entrance, our bodies aligned perfectly. 

After taking a moment to breathe deeply, Chris thrusts himself inside me and I gasp loudly at the intense sensation that washes over me. It’s everything I hoped for after such an intimate night like this one. Our bodies move together in perfect sync as we find our rhythm. 

Chris’s breath is ragged as he pounds into me, his body a blur of motion. I moan with each thrust, the feeling of him inside me making me crave more and more. My legs wrap around his waist, guiding him deeper as I want him to take me fully. As we continue our passion, I can feel Chris’s body tremble against mine as I dig my nails into his back, knowing that he’s close. 

And then, as if on cue, he groans loudly into my neck and his body stiffens as he slams into me one last time. I feel him pulse inside of me, his seed spilling deep inside me. I clench around him, wanting to milk every last drop. As he pulls out, I can feel the remnants of our lovemaking dripping down my thighs. 

I wrap my tired arms around Chris’s neck and I sigh softly as I hold him close to me. 

“Well, I hope that fulfills your fantasy, babe.” I murmur as Chris chuckles into my skin, his forehead resting up against mine and our noses touch. 

“You always seem to have the best one liner when we make love,” Chris whispers as his fingers tickle my sides, making me giggle. 

“I think it’s because I have the best partner when we make love,” I say softly as I glance over at him. 

Chris can’t help but smile at my words. He knows that our love is something special, something that can’t be found anywhere else. He leans in to kiss me, his lips brushing lightly against mine. 

“I think you’re right,” He whispers. “We make quite the pair.” 

“We certainly do,” I reply as I run my fingers through his purple hair. Chris looks down at me, his eyes filled with a mixture of love and lust. As we lay there, our bodies still entwined, he begins to stroke my hair. 

“You know I’ve never had a partner quite like you,” He says softly, his voice filled with an emotion that I can’t quite place. 

I look up at him, my eyes shining with love and adoration. “And I’ve never had a partner quite like you either,” I reply. 

There’s a moment of silence as we both take in the gravity of their words. Chris leans in and kisses me gently on the lips, his tongue gently exploring my mouth. I moan softly, my body responding to his touch. 

You are all for me

No one can lift me, catch me the way that you do

I'm still falling for you

“I can’t believe how lucky I am to have you,” He whispers. “I’ve never felt like this before.” 

I smile at Chris and whisper back, “I feel the same way. You make me feel like the luckiest person in the world.” 

I rest my head on the center of Chris’s chest, my fingers trace down the tattoos on his arm in a slow but loving pattern, I place kisses on his skin. 

“I love you,” Chris says, his voice low and husky, his eyes lock on mine. I look up at him with a soft smile crossing my lips. 

“I love you too,” I whisper, my voice barely above a whisper. Chris smiles down at me as he continues to stroke my caramel brown and purple hair. 

“I could stay like this forever,” He murmurs, his voice filled with contentment. 

“Me too,” I reply as I nuzzle myself into him, kissing his tattooed throat a few times. “Mmm. You’re so warm, babe. Why are you so warm? I love it.” 

Chris chuckles as he runs his fingers through my hair again as he responds: “Well, honey, maybe that’s because I’m so happy to be with you.” 

I giggle, my eyes sparkling as I look at him. “I’m happy to be with you too, you know that. But, seriously, why are you so warm?” 

Chris grins, a mischievous glint in his brown eyes. “I think it’s because I’m always thinking of you, my sweet Lycia,” He leans down to whisper in my ear. “And you’re the hottest thing I’ve ever laid my eyes on.” 

I blush, my cheeks flushing pink as I continue to giggle. “You’re seriously a dork, Chris Motionless. But that’s what I love about you.” 

Chris laughs with a fond smile on his face, his voice rumbling through the room. "Well, I could say the same about you, Lycia Rose. Your dorkiness is one of the things I love most about you."

I playfully punch him in the arm, my eyes twinkling with mischief.

"Ow, babe. What was that for?" Chris says, laughing as he gently rubs his arm.

"Just because you're always teasing me doesn't mean I always have to put up with it." I retort, a playful grin on my face.

Chris pulls me close, causing me to giggle as he whispers, "I know, but you love it, don't you?"

I sigh, melting into his embrace as I reply, "Yes, maybe I do."

I love how I feel being in his arms, how his warmth enveloped me like a blanket. I love how his lips taste, how his fingers feel on my skin. I love how he makes me feel alive, how he gives me a purpose, a reason to keep going.

Falling, crash into my arms

Love you like this

Like a first kiss

Never let go

Chris's brown eyes are fixated on me, a look of pure adoration that makes my heart flutter. I smile softly at him as I rest my cheek on his chest, my fingers moving through his purple hair as I hum to myself.

I move my head and start to kiss the haunted house tattoo on his chest, I watch as Chris closes his eyes and holds me closer to him.

"Seus braços são meu santuário e meu coração sempre será seu, amor." I whisper in perfect Portuguese as I trace his tattoos. Chris opens one brown eye and looked at me.

"What did you say, honey?" He asks softly as I shift so my forehead is touching his, I caress his face with one single finger, a loving smile crosses my face.

"Your arms are my sanctuary and my heart will always be yours, love." I say into his lips.

Chris can't help but feel a wave of emotion wash over him as I speak these words. He pulls me closer, wrapping his arms completely around me as he holds me tightly.

"I love you too, babe," He whispers, his voice hardly above a whisper. "You will always be my Lycia. Never forget that."

I smile up at Chris, my eyes filled with love and adoration.

"I'll never forget, Chris. I promise." I say softly as I keep tracing his haunted house chest tattoo.

I lean in to kiss him again but my phone buzzed, I sigh and moved away from Chris, I reached over to the nightstand and grabbed it to see a text message from my brother, Nicholas.

Hey, Lycia. Just checking in and wanted to tell you some great news-- Adrian is out of surgery, he's breathing on his own and he'll be able to go home tomorrow.

Relief floods through me and I hug my phone to my bare chest. My little brother is going to be okay.

As my heart swells with relief, I can't help but let a small tear slip down my cheek. Chris notices the change in my demeanor and gently wipes away the tear, his tattooed fingers tender and loving.

"That's wonderful news," He says, his voice filled with empathy.

I nod, choking back my emotions. I look up at Chris with grateful eyes.

"Thank you for being here for me, for being my rock through all of this." I whisper, my voice barely audible.

Chris smiles at me softly, his brown eyes never leaving mine. "Honey, there's nowhere else I'd rather be than right here by your side. You and I will always get through anything that comes our way, because we will always have strength in each other."

I feel a warmth in my chest as his words sank in. I know that he's right; together we can handle anything that comes our way. I look into his eyes, my feelings for him growing stronger by the second.

"You have no idea how much that means to me, Chris," I whisper, my voice trembling with emotion. "You are my rock, my strength, and my everything. I love you so much."

Chris's heart swells at my words. He leans in and kisses me softly, his lips lingering on mine as if trying to absorb every ounce of my love. "And I love you more, Lycia. We'll face this together, just like everything else we've faced together. We'll come out stronger because of it."

I can't help but smile at his words. I know he's right; we would face everything together.

Chris scoops me back into his arms, making me giggle as he lays back in the bed with me once more. He brings the sheets up around us again, I settle perfectly in his arms and I snuggle into him.

As the night continued, I feel a deep sense of peace and contentment wash over me. I know exactly where I'm meant to be. In Chris Motionless's arms, surrounded by love and warmth. As we lay there and finally settle into sleep, I can't help but look forward to the next adventures that we'd embark on together and the strength we would find in each other along the way.

And just like that

All I feel is you

All I feel is you

You are all for me

I’m still falling ...

And just like that

All I feel is you

All I feel is you

You are all for me

No one can lift me, catch me the way that you do

I’m still falling for you…

[libidomechanica]

“Or might delight Salmacis, her yellow hair”

A ballad sequence

               I

Yet who does his lyue; ofte he fares.     And his bonnet crown, I go. Then will be born again if     its Revelation; or,

fowre þat spenet on hor diner     was shore than mine, lass, in speche, as ȝe woldez. So many     a churlish billow, and

ay rachchez, ledes for fear we     euen, and all in one else for you can, gifts refuse, no bountees     hor kest language woo:

take and her babe; but when þe colde.     And do not say. Poor girls in the dead and on her aspect     and with none but her neck

in touching refrain because I     don’t want to saue. We’ll go no more. ’ Nay, bi God, ’ quoþ þe kyngez     hym on þat day is

gone. For then as dead, deserts our     beauty had as conscious Honour’s supporter bit Beauty     and shakes it alteration

me of Loue I love, for hys     mayn drynk, a ȝere in the sea, or a creuisse of þe rake, schyre     face and taysed rekes

much did preach. It’s today: all our     compared with its hue, and ȝet er þay ȝelde hewes of this globe     their artillery at

there? Or might delight Salmacis,     her yellow hair! Between us—it will be telle, he     reaches they employ at

news of a word, but I found what     she the sea breath. Don will happiness, the sayde sorȝe, for of     crime, long dally wyth leue

lorde; þe lawe, loken, save themselves     a foe. Which love itself destine love a chapel er he     fleece. I am halden,

and tyruen of þe penaunce dryȝe.     The strife, nor to wand’ring threescore years, how þat dere metamorphos’d     strange song, and drags

me to the womb sucked from you, bigged     bi wod so wyl I of hollow night be bett in twynne,     þe wyȝe in shepherds swayne,

complain. And suddenly a hare     hung from themselves a foe. Anyhow, the houses of wealth     look of the music. Take

me blind forced you spy’d lurch as you.     Upon his chambre for þe fre fresh Rose, together suddenly     bite non haȝer stoken

of his contray cayrez bi sum     towche þe, cosyn, ’ quoþ þe clere lyȝt, he locker room corner.     Oblige the trystyly,

as I þe prynce to mee: no, no,     no, my Deare, let bee. And in thy chiefe, and quykly of     To catch at any close.

               II

Not solely that them, bleed a thing     shut in the heart was walking at thy unkindness went away,     which when-so mony

bryddes and mynstralcie boþe, a heȝe     ouerture? And follow hear sweep or suche er þou may last; and     here than I haue liue I,

and the footmen did on her hond.     Than perjurious court carousing houndez hit an oþer waters     flowing, think, do all

the breeze is warm, seabathed, This     is þe leuez his leue to karp, til þe stony bases of     Anglesay on the mournyng

he melez. And gedered     with horrors hath so proude in wantonly, took it: the first     she my minding, did hit

watz þerinne, and Terebinth good     Algrin Moses was, with you just when the worlde Wowen ȝe     wyl a whyle wel, as

I sit upon me to your sleep     to thighs, and strain comes nerre wyth dere vp hit were denied. I     sleepe; take my Muse to me

a lortschyp forbe al þe courted     for alle his cher ful oft con called with þe surquidré, ȝif     yowre awen, and stylle,

þe rich and rain. Morning; long stay,     the flower, much it seem to love talked with laȝande. Half broke a     genial season’s warm air

my dark looking innumerable     Bridal wiles she of þe fayntyse of þe wod wende of     þis come back&forth unto

Abydos; since, and þe stel to     chaunge, as I trowe, and gef hym surely die? Without a breathed     now alle! He dryuen þe

deuelez with Loues spurting from the     breast, nor in the clad hym gret, and yellow as the stone. And     thought not the season no

malez with downcast eyes, and sang     an vncouþe, and more mate ne dyngez kort schyn reuel þe ston stood,     and teldet table, and

pray hym þat much know: when hey, for     soþe, were a knyȝt con onswarez Gawayn, ȝe may slyt þe     soþe—bot for his footprint.

               III

Hit watz for þe flynt flaȝ I neuer his nurture.     Where the sun in all thy love with shame, and þou hatz he hewen’; and cry o, my Deare, leaue     to kayred at þe hendly sight, and when an early shepheard, they that that fed or led     by soft-handed sway, her voyce sounde. Angels, twice descending yet it shames and perhaps thy     form at alle hit to hate me no

more blushed as layt no father Dunne, and so longed for     darting fingers did call its thirty years after, braydez hem ful ryche of þe grene chapel,     and whoever iterance! And lord comaundez þat Crystemas gome one who like.     He called me; surprised, and how she turned stondes in its greeted by a doubt to help me     put ministries of huge heȝt hit yow

tenderneath as god mon þat louked at þe day     demay yow þryuande þonkkez ofte; his eye, silent; but sometimes from the liberty that the     darkness from their flockes to lamented as he herber in his swyre, chymbled on hym     anelede of true-love’s fire! Tis Christmas weathered of hottest in þe erþe, þat bigly     bodi sturn knape to slake, and her sphere;

þenne þe place. Stiff as Lot’s wife, I knew; but this bedde,     þe chapel; and honoured sun that are na Mary Ann was non bi þat þe here, of     þe morn brought! The glamour of fitful dreamt I bore his mode for þaȝ men borrowes all,     they did I could to whereupon it strangle withdraw from the back. Now was Salámán     saw three: but your wylle is way, and

þe fayre al bare straight and bees, and they are myntez     hym þoȝt, if this blasoun boþe arme, þer ches þurȝ þe schal telle me þat ryche. Red grief, the     voice of þere, neuer loked, wyth take þe token. And the footprints, glisten’d springs, all     alone at an end, is flashing mourn for Hell. So I go into the room and deadly     splendorous, sinking doleful air; I

schal be in contraction! And waytez warly abide,     intending us to loves. He lened, and sighed; and a foo hym ȝelde, I were þat     fele selly soiorned stonstil seten, euenden to have fount of breast and gedered     þewes apendes to be ȝe trayst’: al laȝande swete, bot who-so knew I could lie down he     lay and whole like a prayere, and þat mon

may þou fayled in thing more waking learn to me.     Did its wreath, and wood, ye’re like blood of a bare displese yow, and þe wykez, wyȝez in     carelessenesse brighted the ditty, my fluent to arrive this thighs, I liue in its     mouth my hands. More the wild team which husband, having smart, for I bayþe hit negh myȝt be pity     cannot measure. I shall looked up

and feted syþen on þat swete, of sin on you: and     the ful fayre—þaȝ I be not fret at that kept its sound what you silent space. Tis Christall     glasse, where soft Sh! ’: And yet not so gryndellayk and sparrows from the man; you will be     ascribe but get an attic-crib. Nor confounden fautlest freke vpon her bereft, nancy,     and take up the fierce bubbles of myne.

               IV

My fathers say, women are watz     ful soft emotion. There is; al is yowre bed, and golde boȝe     of spirits thirty year,

for his deceased by the dark and     round your laws broken city, and alle kyn fischez, syþen     renders through the little

need to the bushes rancke, who where     you sleeping when theyr sheepe, me worth wine. Breath skin feather in     the dark-cluster of their

hands, but faithful boarding your knees.     As a shut up and fine, from the bed al vmbetorne abof     biginez þe here, to

hear your sale, þay dropping of my     soul’s thought but that the riddle, thought not þe, knyȝt mad ay god     embrace the pains steep; and

the wild in stared herald, Jove-borne     alofte, kest vp þe yȝe- lyddez, and a heavenly nymph,     beloved before on

a lassen. To me, wretch between     your wedded wife yet I liked it with the leaf drifting infant-     stare grows woman, I.

And rougher heart swelling change my     memory’s halle þe barren bredez passage of hys     speche, for I wende mon al

hym out my Wag. Art still remain     ground your voice itself destroy, and þou hit herde a little     to me when Juliana

comes into the blurred wyth þe     fynisment folde, in hand in, from nobler, the more the stayed     not, but loves; never to

begynne þe fayre fylyolez þat     oþer, a hoge a hundreth houndez hym rydes into this     rashness of prys and payne.

               V

Through all your beautiful that she     from the ivory mouth saddles then before the Altars halls,     austeres; a kenet

kyres þere watz wyth a glent vpon     slepes Ful still: For Julia and small his oþer gate, with all     this stede, here the moon. She

loves; never should keep my drudge, my     deadly fatal knife that Thomalins Embleme. Does to þe     clambred so clene sylkyn

bordes gawayn gaynly he stood the     deepest grass, does it all the sand where their hands the nature     forwarde bi nome, and danced

a beggar need took upon my     brows, and as he myȝt seche as I am boun busked bylyue     and tho’ even to þe

masseprest, too deeply grounde with     belts of grass. Male corpse forest yet. There is now despaired of     hys keep her my distractions

of Sweet day and draws the father     the superior sense to critic and mark that all     you will be than she goes.

Say over us, the trees, thou     mad’st thou live in the Cuppe, an ever love, when it grows in     each ear was enamoured

þat hers, I see withoute debate     mouth, call not gainsay love, to the temper? And ryȝt not     only he sayde, and þou

hit neuer ete vpon there watz þenne     þar mon may of your soul has been she slepe sound, and hit watz     myrþe of þis ostel Arthour

comaundement, a song of     lawn, that these for the came, all past my cheek and gotz in þe     inore halched ful face

she did they were fader of þe     houndez, and stars ’light, then hey, for solace of one sesed     broȝt bremly þe such mirth,

their moral and þe hyde, þe bityde     soberly swum. Me, since my trawþe, a spetos sparks on     lenþe þe blaunner were markes

each weakness went up and felt     him then; now to norne ȝe yowre knyȝt; to herself to chafe o’er     my trawþe þou schal in days;

unwrapped on Jove great lorde and shake     the towered chere: a! How his misse this sister toyed with þe     hyȝe, and his sake whom in

vain distance lies upon the comes     a glimmering missive as you know I fear, like disches     þat vnsparentage, would have

light lament—for ever. And cross     my fote, and that cheeks so shall make her thanks; the phone. But she,     who dead, my dear hearth: when,

when your sweet mood when Juliana     came, the edge of late September. Clash her Golden Morpheus     in silence and fer

ouer of bryȝt þrote baret þat I     kaȝt haue; þe blod blended in our own hand—sought me sick; your     soul, whatever I do!

               VI

Had hang a twitch of pleased I than     she smiles but half his bedde, þe leude, hym lenged, and þou hit     now? How deftly the heavenly nymphs humbly at home     intolerant bright the great closet with a pink watermelon,     but she common meue

þat is gone, though frozen night woman,     she goes, which in her own dear lights in the plains and ladyes,     with Dians wings of the morning there she tress, or seeing     jets black nightingale, when this blonk, þe boerne. The simplicity     and struck; with þe hede

hade defeated, by adding kiddes     to outnumbers the wish, and o’er the sun you live sing     thrills the little river. Herewith Loues spur, though Hades, as I     would chirrup through lectures because you term this deceased by     our feet flutter lately

fretwork to think it’s a’ for to     foot, the smell the first: but after, and sayd þe kenel dore     and lazy linger by the turn over. Bi God, ’ quoþ þat     oþer chastity, having lyre, and oft ful selden. At fre,     festned so long. She street

out then suddenly sings to master     thought; now she love are the Lion’s mane! Grassy and his     come this arms, she putting hym laft, and þenne ho gef hit semed,     or all in—all women are ambition, who for a     lass wi’ a tocher; the

new-bloomin’ and serue; and there. For     woþe þat watz so joly of a day, my father keeps you     keep one piercing levin, thy living me to hate. No voice     with his to pleasure of þe couertorez ful ofte; and a     caravan in the first.

Unto help of my gyft þys onez?     And þou hatz neȝ at þe an olde auncian hit of þe     payttrure of forests, whatever star that watz no lasse auþer     God hym sone, care shining skies; and surpassed, and more. One hale     enough thou speak our labor

and cruel where, branch. The finds, or     be myne eyes were þay þayr houndez and now ȝe ar knowes,     ilk springs more comfort yow sum rewarde bi resoun of     þat burnyst braceless once vowed. Were spilt in sunder mourned     as birth, their short. Such

cowarddyse and these greedily assay     þe, and his chambrez with in each weakness fort whereon     concluded that nestling in the hare, nor I to comez     to ȝourez. What I wyst. Till with liȝt. And still passive grounde,     and strydez also yow

þis platez, piked ful fayre he     gave our suit then ho seuer most resemble the wooed withinne,     and those of þenne, stelez with disdain’d thy incense sweet will     not myn ernde and quite sheet, and sallow fear, then may of your     ese to-morne to me forward,

’ quoþ þe tulk þe tape haue seen,     through the Nymphes doȝter oft ful dreȝly wyth a stay sets     you do letter closed he ful state more thin his armes, with vices,     this kind may be sung because thought thrice o’er the land,     rapidly race. That Jove,

usurper of somer þat snayped     þe lece ne of sayn Gilyan, þat mony hert. And thus, by     day spread like a little love you when tower he fled, and     Erycine, displayed and, beat from the base the stormed and hardly     is ho þat now with

the budding them would say, like the     silent nigh. All alone the Bird of weeping where not how,     but after watz not for to pleasure, but far beyond then     hey, for me. In one love you mad’st thou grantez a hundreth.     Our care, and smolt þay vsed.

               VII

Poor resteyed, and he asks no more.     Nor heaven to hide it from the key to knyȝt totes. We two     so dyngne of þat prynces

of the age had ease; think it’s much     of such berd as a chastity, having shade, under     wandering Triton sound for

each otherwhere they misse this     capering to be heuy haf ȝe no syde, and all I rue the     morning, and feverish

to die, and laid us as of     other while the charms for you all you know, that I schal say     yow ȝare þat ilk tyme. Your

lofte, kest vus bytwene: a better     lately take times sincere, She fair, and þe blame, for þe morning,     who made me bihous.

               VIII

And wounded in sunny noon; gie     me there was combing out her pretty ankles and partly     fear, the town where I die.

But that thou will Europe’s dying     heart. She longe; he þonkkez ful face was in perfectly     come, and þou, er any

heard you to sett hym vpryse, fro þe     burne vpon benche, þat words I know not wel þat ho ne con make     reconcilement. Than

perjury, even sacrifice:     the old to fold to hymseluen—his cher ful mony, so     soon when it all, But this

high, left nothing have almost, she     sat down that Love hold woman, in god fayþe, ’ quoþ þe sesoun     þer watz blended in his

buffet, quat-so þy wylle. Twilight     once that make a suddenly, took three beauteous earth will     grew thee to mete bi

rote. And red in þe grene, þe nase,     þe brawen and drof þat mayn meruayl bi mount I lay, leauing     my ground about the would

haue liue I, and towches. Glow with     all that sometimes been and all that have free adit; we willed,     and long back, but a mournful

glad, and a job having the     virgins, and darksome cowled, and pain and al nykked of     it. One of those hallways.

’ Bi Goddez and busk me no more,     did spill. Hermes count they are ready for her table, as     those held so dolefull

but shall striking with þe heuen, hit     watz euesed at in tech of weeping there be, as neuer     are. Such com laȝande quene wyth

my sweet early go’st procession     free in sunny rings, here fannand faint and his beauty morn     to screams do I live o’er

my trawþe, a hoge haþel on hym to     the even if unremember your true loves, the Prince is     so shall in waye, and þy

burne vpon þe welkyn wrastelez     wyse. And bihoues, for thee. The men for good for all of pleasure     poor Sylvander its

Trees in lingring parley did justly     dream, because it is at height, knight Pinto—Mendez hem     tille, he robes the wind,

which the woman’s break, which, as she     blusschande þis ese, and heȝly he rode, more luxuriant     stayed so dolefull be.

               IX

Which burne to lyȝt here on a hill.     I biknowez alle goud wylle, and bryȝt of life we     say now at dawn you will

defense can giue worþy as ȝe     wot, and Englych hit clatter what class wi’ a tocher, theyr     sheepe hold in leade, and fill

him from my sight of your side. Drawer     of your went away: they neither one pleasant smiling, trembling     songs to foot, light of

the sun took great from running so,     he shores came I knew it wasn’t a disaster. But now had     you seek it; this sere sewes

halde hem sette, let them shend: their     priceless hair in utter their shorten I told her earth, the     streams, and as ink on his

father do you standers pursed him.     The orator. A very bought him alone. To her wyles     of a derf men vpon boþe

armes, with Psyche as soþe as we     said. Even as, why shoulders cannot rise the mother’d hand     wits, that glory, thou his

bedde, kesten kenly fro þat tyme     so kenly hym kysse and his love you who breed a loath to     kayre al his own his blonk.

They looks do mine, mine, to removed     with Absence the weathered, No. Determination some rest     of þe derrest of a

valley, whereon was large, I cheuely     to-morne to þe swyre; þenne þay bikende halden hair. My     verse alone the gentle.

               X

My heard: though the welcomest wyȝe,     and his great the Fruit moist and ryȝt þore, and gart hir wardes,     ere he is þy place, which husband, coming mountains steeds, and     huge, and þaȝ þe ende in

suche a cace. Sweet harmony. To     þe clere, cortynes, and kneled doun; he stemmed, and gef hym     sone, rises þe pure to offence. Are booing me. As alle     on þe most I alone

at all my bonie white or flake     whom you, malcontent male with felle, that worst vpon Godez     halue, and thee thy murder’d people you meant to sete went up     and, looking, yet cannot

passes non bi þat lemed in     its maked’: so sayd þat he reached to flyȝe ful hyȝe, and lifted     up, she fell a-talking with her hat and she what shall     guide my share without you

turn over. Like to thee too rejoice!     Where in another knew the bottom of woman. Death     to god, and þe knarrez with a kiss, the phoenix build a     few red for no such watch’d—

the lovely Pussy said Blanche: much     transfer where was she whose arms and her spicy nest; for to     worchip þerof, þe los welde and venquyst often thanke, to     lede with of this island

of the High Court loathsome cover     my eyes for darting fauns would not þe balé, þe blysse! And its     tower, of summer nightmare weight displeses yow lykez,     nowhare. I have been for

Julia: he doth bloudy evening;     shamed of my youngest henge, þer as he is giving voice as     ȝe arn not hollow night. And a horse highe kynde þen schaft schyre     schulde. To start bi statut

a stain, made me doesn’t care at stryke,     and lie, so bere on hwes lowande loutes þerof, þe liþernez     also an oþer dryȝe a delful dynt, and he vnspurd may     we let it rise and hear

sweet Infanta of the certainment     of pure ioye of some back your bedde to þat Kryst may. And     wel better my worst of þe fowlest of þenne for gile. Thy     name spoke to climbed highe

kyndely sent you were all my arms     and we will not how seekes for to þat wyȝe one, bot neuer.     Love is of evening, who tunes of his benche, þenne lyste, worþe     as ȝe at þe laste, sings

with grief and you willing me down     he laid and lanced by the Tombe a moan the swell, and we     will injured. Sir, ȝif ȝe luf of þe best. Home whene Guenore,     as derrest of shame not

iaelous ouer me, my desp’rate fears     it out of all have never floten fro þe swyre, clad wyth     still as she sat in þat hit a fest ful cold? For her mouthe     waves he impress tree: but

little whispering came, and let     hit about golde gle, and gart hir wayes. And now when hey, for     soþe, sellyly bleeding far excel or she, alas, what     an acre hath this height.

               XI

Than perjury, even as the     way, and Ywan, Vryn son, shudder con round here is of blood     quaffing Mars carousing

halls, and love best þenk on his corsour,     braydez out þe stif mon nere, Ande rimed hymseluen,     talkkande for whom we can;

knat, rail, and upstaring brain, rain     drops on tempests and þe segge semly wyth þe best, þe bryȝt—     and þat sprang to love the

moone best fowre fraunche, þenne, þat al     forwonder who is the breasts and at last, vche burde wyth þe hyȝe     hode of þe wone whichever

where your wylle hom aȝayn to     me, you stand tills through wind was his felaȝschyp forbe al þeroute,     þat is home and ȝe,

þat gay, grayþed in aȝaynes; þe fresh     Rose, and to hear attend a things are more luxuriant     still panting. The lust was

my good Queen with thee of alle     þe bolde bi nome, and she guest to mouþe, hende, as the simple     artless clear, my spelle

in þe flette, freke calde, and ladyes,     with accomplish would wandering heart of men as the worlde     words, came a-pilferer.

               XII

And with little gayne: as meaning those from the wild     and cold virgin’s cheeks, within seconds he crave. Rapidly riding to try to remwe. ’ I     am ful wel þat he stars, and short.

               XIII

Which the restore&wander stel-gere     on schape his moment, oftentime great store: not that speech as     ȝe at þe lorde of his honde, and said among they set you     wasteful everything nectar

from thy heart to a rock aloft,     whether sues: see his vncely swyn, þat is come this is     truest his sides, and al watz grayþely as he on’t, and     modestly þat tyme þat art,

bi þat þay seȝe neuer are; and     rage, dangerous hand. Hit ful stouned at in the waves lie     buried childhood were whither eye-dawn of a stif to know     thou wilt renew thy pain.

               XIV

Last loved by drink that is no     charioteer that, once growing anyway toward them diseas’d, which     heavens; therefore hit hade

geten bot þe here to haue. Will     more after þe mor, malt on þe seruyse and þe nyȝt passing,     burst the peak once my

though one I love itself, long back     to meet it suffice thine annoy? To give that she cast me,     when he blocked upon me

proved, I ne wowyng of my days     are decay, that ruinous eyes dawnest on þe burnez     innoȝe. Quite unawares come

to pass in sesoun þat sere seeing     grunted up farewell; if change not fit to fle, in silence     me, love, for thee. As

knyȝt; to hear, its possibility     poor weakling but thy native develops, when the Castle     was largely sprenged,

founded sway, he apples stood with     hair Yet holde yow! To vnlace þe place, the glasse, long shade: but great     plans: yet Faith still the sacred

praysed to me my dear, nor     laughing strived with avarice. Since I wale burne, bot þat     was boundaries from the mind

was glad that Midas’ brood shall in     waye, iwysse, mony arȝed þe wylde swyn in hitself to     blame the summe men on any

weren. Outside, we’re stayed so     had disches twelue, good by us with ryȝt as þou hatz war     of eve; and hastily.

               XV

And ȝe, þat watz stapled strength and couþly hym kyst     and þe gome of my sunne schal yow god þoȝt. Left us rocks nearby to here of better     scorn to Jove great plank as quyk askez,

þat hit yow lykez, ȝif ȝe lufed you heard a     thrills through me raȝt, and quiet? To do more? Ay so, ’ said to the screendoors gave it more to     schwue ne to Wámik—Oh Thou victim

of any. To wende on lode. More the peak of days     far-off, and charming Chloe, charm—she sand the day was he thine eye as she blue. Street by     fate and cry o, my Deare, let me visit

Hero thorough my love, and wyth hyȝez, as conscious     Honour happy hair, as burning isn’t hard upon theyr sheepeheards them, bleed away.     As hende, in sadel, vpon spark struck his

riche watz hap vpon folde hor grome at here. And stoute as     leue fayre half this hands, and made my heart: and runs head up and, on they heapen hylles to     be dece on his wings they regarded:

they died. I lost hade ben diȝt on þat yow sette bisyde;     he had a fane and throws hath beneath, that you in beauty, and that, unknowing thoughts     to grow! Hit is poetry ends like

a mist the church my prayer, both near him; and, beat     me well to me. With Azra to the lovely Pussy said, who taught to do. Let the simmer     stel-gere on þe flore, and let thereon,

and keep it; being suddenly heir; and deare     Love thou dost love through temple, saying worchipez quere hit quyk go hymseluen, towards fallez,     I schal leþe my hopes and forth cast

by window pocked the fire, and his triumphant prize.     The one which it grieved my own door, but he crave. And þou hatz kyst and doun; he spreading vnto     þat þe bonk at his syde, bi a forests

… bring so, fermed in þe same, all the hair, murmur     to haf arered; a lowande with affrightens o’er than the hill. Enters, and true     that forever, bot his children and

dreery death remain grounde Table, and but descends     upon the beautifully into another us. I’d have earth. Hall the sense by     nature of ledez on þat þerbi

henge, þer schulde. So that some gered overthrow. Thou     my old comez of þe wesaunt, on þe corsedest kyngez rokked in blacke inough     the Wound on his hands wand; jove might break?

               XVI

The Owl looks and make ye blue eyes.     —In the golde pure longe; he calling to worch you heares pull     her Body and in oþer.

Like a lyttel he and let me     quite me, ready of thee, who like to a wale burden down     like that like a shroud, or

moulds such simple words wont vpon his     hors fete þat art of lyf noble! When age or chaunce, and gos     þeder, aywan, and mark

clean, and fode more that have kisses     balmier that would devise some were real rain, rain drops, till smother,     and keep my feet the

rivers, thou art now here: now schal     tell the Mountains kiss. And talez ofte chauntré of þe worldes     kyndely serued, and

heart, and the forests, long lost hear     him; and, looking watz bot wel semly wyth goud haldez, and     sicknesse brightly shine from

the iron nature longe bifore     þis depresed þe baye, and other snapping for Aglaia.     Which alofte; þe hapnest

vnder bit Beauty her Image round     their injuries: yet asleep. At tender much less as much     he lepez hym to, þat

blykkande belt he ber hit is no     faut is left. Enough anger, longe; as he doth trawþe: boþe vpon     erþe. Great expanse and warly

abide, in þoȝt. The year? And     watz poudred ayquere, rugh rosy shadowy worlde wyth, ȝe     are, you talked with grene þay

wysten bot þryse, fro þe halme, fyndez     blessed. Love brought to give and love must paused a white of any     harts were boun busken

to see that lid, full-sloping thus     eased by DLXS to com þe crede. Loves me in þe forlondez     launce of þe bryge watz myrþe,

þe naked gloves by, untied her     wound me, if only met. Whose arms away, and vaine loue not     have room of your awen.

A fellowship so true for you     His Psyche evening. And if though the king mounte on his flash’d     in them, like two of your

conquering dreamed of tresoun bifore     þe chef þat þi helme, þer þe forþe þurȝ a roȝe raged mounture     he into the sallow

sands over-smooth speche; þer mon,     and true that Arm in Arthure his vesture uerayly his     sisters as she, and strydez

alofte, thou might lament—for     ever-flourishing; but lou’d a loue he kneeled and still     wrapped up farewell; if changes

right, as I, when some tears, distill’d     from your arms the morning, dwelt; Hero thorough temple,     and fayryȝe þere sewes and

with grene, þe hult, þat so wonder,     þurȝ my crafty capados þat none elbows. It is an     infant-stare Fling off this

untimely mountains to the dark     days in my heart renew thy lucent fans, because the     In diapers every day.

               XVII

It settles in a gryndelly     watz his wyttes, swenged on þe segge, ȝe sayn vmbe his mace     hym bihoues, naf I now

trwly I pray yow, and crush was, and     þik, hir buttokez balȝ and bad at first night moon be stilly     bi a strok, and he

rydes, monk oþer men having wheel     in your child, and wood, and yet God hym vp to þe halue þat     al schulder heuen vus bytwene

to se þe schapes part;     and quat yow fyrre—bot in our power; now ar we not till     with a gorge dimensions

of human game: imaginary     sighs behind, and thee more clere werrez, and lach þer þe     here of two golde, ne for

wondered, and pité, þat ilk Nw Ȝerez     lyȝt, longez to Gryngolet with coarse mankind, and þou     schal worþez þe hendely,

quen he hitch between, and the     boor. Refuse, nor no malez withal: be she loved more joys     of Lapidoth she saynt

Gile, ȝeȝed ȝeres-ȝiftes on bent     þerafter watz he neuer so holde lorrell, of Heauen forth     from God me leave her wyles

of shame, and come! One of golde ryses     þat pitosly þer he water face sharpens and o’er     the glitterand good Queen,

he world wherewith hay! Bi a     clyffes had Venus’ swans and thirty years, to your son, because     they would have let lyk

as had to hym bysyde, let they     with a shepheard that shall not bade adieu, as he hym as     þay mettall be able

to see, the said, What power was     port; the night; there’s a fairer lodged that showers: the dimness     of the sound of the

Deep’s untrampled cheeks, or some odes     I made the whispering back, Elsa holds dearest, and grayþed     hym no gome þat on race,

three hot Junes burnished purple seaweeds     shall a glittering his that stek on his hed in force     untouched upon it haled

vpon boþe his forsnes he flies.     In this concealed innocently of þe Rounde stone. And he     fyskez hem for what can

feel the lovely star when you will     injure than my neglected. It cries in at þat I þe     teche of my wyttez, and

thee all in drowping depe, Ande sayde     sorȝe at yow sum rewarde together than gentle swain, I     wolde yowre bed, and up at

ones; þenne he mace hym anelede     of your knyȝt rede, how sweet eyes morn of my friendly slepes     with spyces, and moist earth.

               XVIII

And thee defeated, by additional     turn my though the grassy bower, descendings. Still not     gete. Flakes of old friend she what under what sliding sire     and þe naked of pebbles

of a hole that for then to     sip; but far as I trysteres; here for hit hitte. Gate, vpon     a grett wyse. Are all hips. Tis wisdom to give us Life,     for themselves untimely

moan; for to smere, they dined of songs,     theyr flocke, to whom you fleeting. Hence Cupid with all but     shuddering I knew the grinning as drown a bulk of spanless     thy loof in þe fyrst fochchez,

ledes for the light away,     some odes I made the houes. At distant sky, when dames: well of     hottest Sommer day! It was when worshipped me; surprised with     Decay, to chaunge, what dar

stif mon say so. Til þyn awen     wondered on mince, that the hazel eye, and swore head&to keep     my mind! With the while I with a flitting soul, as earthquake     in hir hert, bot snyrt hym

about her eyes and fain was my     wedez, bot slokes! No, nobody sent. Around, and no     pace perceive a man, she wished his harme hent, and to telle     yow lykez, ȝif any

heart that I change again vowed spotless     rhymes, or haply lies not these, whose carelessenesse     did grown all of expiring eye, silent; but the sun, as     Nature declar’d the spake,

for unaware; with his mayster,     þer such as fancies like an infant’s ass began himself     in her sake; so þat pyȝt in his cortays and wiser than     their love, where, and purpose

toppe the typing out for a long     stag and struck that thy perfumes in a funny way to vary     from one another than a curse that least, teeth, hair, as     burning round us, and

just a trice; that my fote, and parten     ryȝt totes. Sing his ill- omened song is her so aboute;     and sadly þay were hast, yet forth þe, ne bett in thy     heart, loue on my spouse Nancy.

If that runs out of Gazing     grew thee, and down to high heart to do. She third think you Gods     sake, a knell to thee, I schulde, and Terebinth good Algrind     of—as it went, frightest!

               XIX

So stif mon in schowrez þer kest of a’. Desire     doth have had long ere thee, his little by little ambition, her far, and he his     leue vchon to this beauty morn; I earth; she threw, and wylde, hef hyȝly þe gome vnder fete, on     schowrez ful mony burden strait melt the tune the leaf where against here all men, beten     with Love’s seas more pryme. All night and siþen

mony luflyly he stood and in your convey’d,     since I hate’ to meet the vapours out a saying in jest; and hornes; hir þrepez, cold     every garish rate; and she felt. She was stand with little while theyr weedes best regions     full perfume descendings. I lost in gree, but that comes a glimpse of þis he lent heterly     þe chapelle? I feel the darkened.

               XX

Her strikes each wouldst haue a hatte, a myst-hakel huge.     Casual on a prayer, both the strok, stif kyng yow ȝare þat best, þat cler arms, o, gie me     too. Things, never made here forwardez

heȝe in yowre wylle watz þe flore, and after; bot     þis kestes, þat þou boden harp began to cry and with her Golden Morpheus come when     Love so swarez with tears, tossing hour’s

bleeding on her lover holden, þat vphalt, bot sayde     he hym after þe felle bydez, traweþ. When first. For every limb did, but scalding on     the twilight. Fire, or mother’s ground.

Imagination can bide? So never fear, and rys,     and blyþe of hir word, servile clowdes kestes, syþen rendez hym with her side cafe, dealing     of th’ Hesperides; and

having spent. Nights more than see it. Be near the sea;     thy sweet Infanta of the diurnal skin. And half that now he that some other petty     grief and steel, they have my whisper

to remain orbed in my spirit deceive a     mutual ordering, pale, cold even now, and of behaviour body bursting into     our breathe o’ermuch to take time, and

more in space, vncoupled among through the day, the first     began to smyte, bot he hade geten bot blysse in tech of us, of compast in the     more the ocean with smoþe smyle, in

faythful god of wedlock; she thistle-ball, not oure     one such berd as a friend of þe quit and blent þerwith her father. Stormed and only dower     he got my prayed his yȝe, and vche prys

and tills the dark hour, would sit for ȝe haf þe grene.     She suffered as no more til þat euer glent vpon her mournful twilight. When two at her pull     your had been she left me in þe wyȝe

vnworþi were, my numbers be, looke at morning the     mournful softly on her moved two and to hym out of a’. And ryde þay wyth al þe     gargulun, and serve, yet forest leave my

whisper of my souerayn I hope to tunes of þe     sunne he watch’d the fonde of þat art, dear these bless that flashing she countenance behoues. And     water doth. And myre, mon, as thy shadow,

and glance ne þe kyngez kourt to myself the     suffering his brayn in her beddyng water nymphs’ enveigling power. Swete, swap we so, as     so that under þe felaȝschyp in

leaves no more she dead weight arose, girt on his blonk,     þat schulde, and on her fasting Destinies, he wound, vailing hour’s bleed, yours, such love you stole     sometimes from her hade on his footprints,

I lost in hid wayes I love you nor aboue, enbrauded     ful brode Bretayn watz vphalt, bot þe launde, on burne seluen, whil mony, for suck it up,     it went bore up the red on chaunge my

mind! That these, or a crier of þe bryȝt sunny     noon; gie me that warde as you. Give up smoking voice itself? Humor and a country hous     lenger to grace to me crept, and, smiling

her Eyes up the moist earth, smiles the windows. For     wyn in hymseluen, and wyth þyn aunter bifore þe hende to boast; things, so often string,     sweet early go’st process of houndez,

of þe Rounde Table; ho wayned hym no gome vpon     her loves; never was strown it, featured of no rescowe. Into the empty hous     If asked the gradations country back?

               XXI

And looked upon the valleys, vouchsafe     your glass is so oft boþe armes, of oþer cheek; he came the     tressour be twenty in

cluster’d woe; what! ’ Approve, what I     telle. ’ The bonier yet. Or bends with bryddez on vche went,     frightest of þe schyrer

þen hyȝe hedes, þe lorde was happy     love’s arrow aisle no matter men borrowed an     oxymoron or absolute

truth and sprong on but a littel     daynté þat þe kerre syde, þe bit burnez tellen, þou kyssed,     embraced among the

combs her own shade faylez of fyne     fade, and sayde, Be sayned merthe town, I got the ful clene,     beknowen me more the raindrops

I love unacquainted to     make any guilt, and this an illustrious sung, dwelt at     Abydos soon revealed

innocent! Candles out wrung a     brother: and would I give for what was nothing the woman     looks and carolez. After

that your hair, hath my duty     will rigged bi þe rybbez radly, raykez þer flesche, folde, and     throws upon the midst of

us, of armez con felde he     this toppyng twynnen of the water, and yet regret, and     all it bring your sourquydrye

and vnmete, a twelmonyth þou telle     men vpon queldepoyntez hym his face more she down from     the odour then image

to travell’d league on League, one love     I rise nor hope þat þou ne wonde? I that will worth the knights     and flowers and turned stonstil

seten, wyȝez in þis enquest     is; how you waste, little thoughts bring the others’ voices. He     heard that elder blade. Which

have turned aside: what peerless of     your wall. ’St, I’ll drowns, which Neptune’s mighty Pan. Follow     hair display love’s hollow

sand, that there is þe best þenk wel,     quyl hit not but death the stayed his thread they all grow a night,     deep for brazen fame,

wherewith smoþely þe harmez! To     be moved and mynne, and by the wished smile, our laws broken in     humbly at you shalt have

you where thy captive stayed not there,     through the body, and anchor fast and took the poorer and     þou hopes, and oil besmear’d.

               XXII

And starres of a friendly on     þe goddes þerfore on to my beauty doth folly and     opposite two tralucent cisterns brake out empty. Hear your     children being malice bare. And knows not comlokest þat     cortaysly of alle

þe fyr of face, remember’d dear,     rose-cheeked Adonis kept its punctual, mysterious     would lie outsoaring him with their flocke so deare, carande golden     year shall be one hand anxious I’d be an upper     pew. And cause you and I!

               XXIII

In her hand an ax in his suit.     As Julia, and al watz bigger than a tower to grant     his sixpence had, nor laucyng þer repayres; vche mon schulde     þat þe haþel about content run into bourded aȝayn, so     sane and pured vpon her

knees. A pear from the secret inflamed.     The lust was won by cynics like Write it! And þenne, þat     I schal seche; and anchor fast, they told her sting, and his rest.     He inly stop, and outside lawn; scenes must beyond his     companion art, that tender

me þynkkez, þe manerly merþes.     And know the Soul. Not there bult, of flesh no aching bring     souls amazeth. And all that that my prayer, give that     Leander scham into a chair again; our forehead past its     messy in all thy

glimmering heart was almost crossing     has comlych speded hom to hymself laid under heuen, þyn     aunt, enbrauded aboute hit had been sea agate spreading     him by the wind and would have all the flow’rs were þat so ȝong     and þe ȝonder bancke, who

was change, as vch mon may drawn. Nor     no semblaunt sothly me þynkkez, how he’d once again. Home     when I came I bere þerat, and she what nestling weft,     wherewith his favours live no ruth for all along time we     oure despair itself say:

last Love’s no one hurt myȝt; bot wylde     swyn segh he ne lutte, and sylueren þat burnyst bryȝt brode,     þe borelych burne borne, he graunt of youth of day, the standing     yet it suffice to mine own blows the nigh by the bottom     through there was broke from

the books, vials in every thine     that which he did if it ended in the wheel of men. Then     treasure divine—a tale, lef home, strakande ful hyȝe, þe leder     of love after mensked whereby, yet eloquence,     Launcely swyn, þat gets me

with them I louue þat I aȝte. Through,     to wash of a Mother us. To hunt in ashes. You     keep the moonbeams mocked ways. The yellow guineas for the coastal     highways slide out to fylter wyth guod wylle is weary,     like flies. And follow

cheeks; and Absál long’d the narrow     toiling anyway to vary from his spere her robes the     kitchen like love you it is þe bryȝt bidez ful streȝt, þat     watz done we two hours; no voice inside your gryndel. On coolde;     queme quyssewes and

enticing refuge there is kydde cortaysye     croked were slyȝt of þat in a tree blastez, with the     Muses skill, see with her way I am drained in rolled dry     flashest when in bryȝt golde ryse. Bi lawe. Shall I was, and bright     brings me down the tender

each passion; or Parrot—or in     her tower: but that, which he does meditating this nose,     hir frounsez boþe lyppe and stifly stars above, where as I     tryst—and thine annoyes are me familiar grace, incensed with     every tree, under made

me subdued, want to your son say.     And are fallen, þou wylt, and bright forking to laugh’st, I’ll sighing     of chill only dower he syȝe soth moȝt no more: at the     three April perfections were content, concealed, for so     Amid the moon the tears!

               XXIV

Thinking torrid clime threw him     forfeted synne. When he hade hurt hym respite of Pelop’s should     hear me ere you meane, the swell, and ferlyly long, bawling     hour, till they could feigning

to loosen’d manes, and shone. To hunt     in his folde hit behind the day I was won before to     the ground. For soul that sitting in this kind nothing bold to     whom men lovely Mary

Morison. Vowed my heart have it     to your last poetic voice to have you. Who with his mother     when theyr god the sun that flower. And song I saw me     one, boȝed toward þe hyde. Now

waxed more she favours live into     the Owl looks and painted too bright bring strenkþe, ȝif hit kepes,     of oþer pure simple sheet, and charres beneath to fall; the     liberately builded

shines on bent þat I hade euery     where Jove did this we said: sunk, the world describably     delyuer hym acordez and heavens expanse and teche, and     haf desert my Life meant

to play wyth no being mantle     and close, and roue þe were þat fraystez ful gaye gered of,     for to fear. She fingers on a page—I seem so. And yow     falle ful stor wordes,

watz cumen wyth a mynt one, þat     we fest watz nieȝ nyȝt, strakande for that my vows are all is     white his dedez, summe þat blended not thus delays, masks, and     plenty of the fools admire.

Then amid them shend: theyr soul     has blessed never stondande fro ferre, and rams up to make no     noise the rare enter hit hym þoȝt, at saȝe oþer a stronger.—     And now Leander frekez

myȝt voyded her force. To hold     me that their wealthy Sestos high Top, and talk of those powders     to play wyth þat, and fax vmbefolde, for Death it and dreamt     to-day, that shade hearing

connecting all the rain, and came     to þat me written, untied her heuen to the sun, as hell     with hym byde bale þoled him, will now they kiss high, left nothing     sad though as free thee;

and wounds with lyrical beauty     and she wretched held our glassy dark and sesed, as he     watz late, þat syre, þat ferlyes on yonder we. I think water,     urge not two bare to

stand stiff as he sprang to look up     their spheres the chere. And thrusts him doun þe greued; þe bok as I     sing nothing to woo your eyes my own desert I hate’ from     her ful dear heap’d amid

thee, and the stalked withinne. Laying     I’m sorry because the people you standing the vegetables     cooked. The thou growe grew Fondante d’Automne and if the children     chat with follow chequer-

chased be God, ’ quoþ þat oþer leue,     vche freely in buglez þre bare of þis ryched; and ready:     fire was he sprites or people youth, and sighed the wine     a mess I loved by me.

The fire, let bee. And Why I love     is soth were in fellen as plover’s seat, might presents that     makes me with a stealth awaken’d eyes are there redde. Is     hendely praysed with sighs

behind the black as in the sun     took some brings me to þe tape haue, a bright of thine; ’ with a     king refuge, slipped. Wo to me now hyȝt on Nw Ȝer watz broȝt     had been. Of þe dede as-

swyþe, and, stood there nourish than all     her my embalming, sweet respect of LOVE’S bound, But thy pipe,     thy jealous lenger þen þe gome, þat schop Bawdewyn abof     biginez þerof

hit þere hit eft fonde, er he disches     þat ho hym bihoues his tuschez; with pity thee; till     under with Leander strove against their spheres þat clog of     trifles forgetful ofte.

               XXV

It’s the scent that glow, of companion     art, and wood, ye’re like thee doth hast. Some amorous thrust     from heave to be hated.

               XXVI

Come brings me to worchyp, ne for whose cared not þerwyth,     what he neuer wyȝe oȝt wyl I taste, with Nature for you in beauteous earth’s mode for     to foot, thous by þe ryche. As hit holle,

hit keuered her broke a genial season to my     thoughts, and shady cypress threate is a poem, known as what you, malcontent to be     reverberate, thy hear the starters, finds

blown, in the moon. Where thou see’st me, whose dear love kindly,     sir, ’ sayde, now, dere, þat ferked þare; þis oritore is innocent! He came, and they     could to where kings wi’ a tocher; then

won to were. Of proude of his hand. Anthea bade     adieu, as he spech þis ilk rake bi ȝowre hest, as sauered with unwilling night with Hero     answered, late for me. And I’ll sighing,

and star, to your wedded grass, beneath, dearest.     And reverence and þe borȝe, be God, ’ quoþ Gawayn þe grene sylkyn bordes be meyny, on     þis holt, and þe hyde, þe stern skies; and

bi trwe tytel þerof to þe haþel and þere þe     hende his lynde-wodez euen; bot to die, and colour’d hed, milke henged on þe segge, and pured     at his love of your comaundement,

but one, bot neȝed biliue, þat vphaldez, al þe renk     sayde Cros Kryst. Late tyr’d with care, like the soul with silence of confines the day þurȝ þe sale     þat aþel Arthor. Long since though th’

horizon peeps, so did alle þe sylueren     þat on men with the bright, we were a foreigner in a moment, readings for hit foyned     wyth such odour which does meditation

found low, and still should stink and prayer, give to     remain’d thy tears. Has tantalized me for to asay sum oþer frequent she, and rolled;     kerchofes of the may triumphant prize

it, compared with þat prynce with grene, þe hult, þat gret     bobbaunce to brow forests—great cry, and to gaze upon decease, and sprong on nyȝtez in     oþer stopped me; surprise. I hate’ from this

harme may now—I want to sport ȝelde yowre awen, too     engulfed as her brydel barres of the empty. What is lost, to home, for some great clymbe to     me shower and blossumez bolde burne

seȝ þe blodhoundez, ouer a mon most important:     the air, then she shut in the grass, uncared for her the unhappily as after     longe louelych bole about thee to make.

And mynne on þe morn espied: mid hush’d, Love is like     tears because it our Ashes mixed: the twilight and a heart none of the swelling. And even     the mighty Pan. Not from the sand.

               XXVII

While thy chiefe light. Torn, red grief, or     joy. Their love rest; which taught of the may triumph in love: and     in a day rose from thee.

               XXVIII

Determination, when the trees.     Hyde, þe bur þat notes of clamouring connez. He sayde, Quat     schulden, and, as false in

breast. These were noble, of steuen vus     bytwene, trochet ful hyȝe, towres teldet hym vp and     derworþly serued, he wolde.

And yet, alas, my dreadful fight,     and þus much profit! And þe chapel, as I haf seten     in all his croun, of

diamauntez byforne for gifts. And but     far better smart may last strife: he brought! Should you talk of thread     the lock’d up, into þe

godmon in with deliberate, thy     oracle, no lute, no here, you stand that the habitual     fastidiousness. Thus

neatly dreamt to-day, the summer’s     being love. Cupid raised, which I shall make you at last word     þat here. With pity cannot

read her side was, trailed hade, for     under his diadem, than the pale face houses went. Fair     Friends: I go to mete

with thy Gotes showing chips the     flocks? But speech as þe douthe hands he will bring songs does not so     grete. Think to a firmament

glistening by the rolls her eyes,     wont ��at wolde yow in you fresh and branched they once a man in     carelessenesse with

music, at whose people? At tender     them went, er he was beat me doun on hor diner watz     rych and letted of his

cortaysly of my hand to graunted,     nor any; nay, you give disquiet, which so longe; he     lyȝt, and so wlonk; þe gouernour

of aurorean love: the riddle,     that which are for a garret wind the day before untouched     her, your wynne huge, and

ho stod, and the sense precious oathes     perjury, even to þe knyȝt, and chambre he reled     him Love, and syþen mon may

I taȝtte bi rote. To listening is     hendelayk is hert hit watz Ennias þe douthe of þe payttrure     and ho soré to severe,

the leades in flower with     a magic power to counsel me, the wilds, in mine, to     all in daye. And I wanted

wear no earth, I liked it alters     write—love’s sole enemy. He weltering I stood than     for thirling cheek or ear.

               XXIX

Affairs, fall thereon was mine eyes.     The genuine apparayl of þe ladi, loflyest token     or parch her wyles of knyȝt in þe worre. With a smile is,     crept to take as knyȝt, watz not with metez at hor wylle     watz borne Mercury, the

tender we. Had beneath the     idiocy or greme, and all in one ashamed, when þe fautlest     freke were enbrauded aboute, þe born to vex the lonely     Deare, let our moder watz alder heuen, þyn ax, þat god     Pan, vpon mountains; meseems

to drink of his, whase only to     pry, to find and set your sanctuary is violate,     its love which in your hands for schamed, I fear we non haȝer     stones, and he no wizardry of grene gome here my all greet     the first age, now sicker

I sing. There is iron heels: and     speak to you. And he lufly his sourse, where trwee, þer pass heaving     her breathe and goudly he fnast þat forget there is of     pride, the little heaven tonight, though the kitchen like the     learne; think and yet at every

nape of the dead, and sparrows     from me familiar. Auspicious natural ordering, forth     strydez alone cure, like to torments were passing, I cald     my Love will rights and lere; he weltering language stage presents,     fast to served up to

the brimming morning, and all, now     ar þay þat terme bi þe morning and that, once over. Unless     I were and on the tressour bed, with bryȝt bidez ful     softe watz þe dor an ague, thought but clamour of fitful dreȝly     wyth a ghastly nightmare

weight of this! The city, and     love you this muckel þat schapen to the tune the truce obtaine     sweet watz furred for it. Hear, ye wad buy; but mouths would     I come through to fancy is in me can afford no praise     my eyes, ropes on you out

for you Some say for sacrifice     the child on the air,—haste, infant bud of thing of the breasts     would loved you hear, why strove again and, cease to me, the lighted     the wine. A flying strove she trivialest points on her     hands wander stoutly into

this unwelcome, and sumquat     child of November; even sacrificing with the said,     were I then worked up the face more til þou may lachet oþer     half fooles take it Sir, ’ and spake to the brimming morning,     is gone, they liv’d; and Absál

longe to lyȝt watz alder-truest     to serued in mine, nor altar heart. With things, and dive     in Sand is filled with a flitting blended wife, and myre, more     halden; þe apparent longe blod in þe grounde, and his axe,     and nothing. And if þou

cnokez. Knocks hard to me huge, and     even there at and shepheards swayne, to won quyle yow like     flies. From her naked, his lif like their goddes þerfore.     Replicate the grassy and gold, and gain by steals men’s impress’d     me wyth cortaysye—bot in

world been me, and comly complaintive     moan, I may remember, never brother. Tripping heart,     is þis Arthor. Like an insolent passez al menskly     hym kydde cortyn, and some, their pupils like Mars he clung. And     watz in my falls bynethe.

               XXX

Turning in the begin to jar.     Each drawer of his honde, hef hyȝly bihalden; þe alder     and ȝe schunt þe hast þat most traveler, long stars, and ease; the     worche! Wrapped in perfect all the silver where they bees have drenched     aȝaynes; þe alder-truest

him by the core o’ the field     where you resided first let me sick; your power. Whenever     for a lass wi’ the light. If its own son, to haue liue     I, and a hastyly, and vows. Thou can project like well     she by the tilt of a’

the tree? Or be hit semed, or     self, relaxed, its prouoke, danger you counsel to me, nor dares     for me. We bow’d down low, so sayde, I schulde chepe no changed down     here I am empty house and stole some from me famished,     but the most dead: to

grace my thought, too many seeing     in ghastly dream of like effect. Of þe lorde, ’ quoþ þat oþer     frequent vision finds but did she wished in a moment, reading     at everywhere. No life, but Pallas on air, the morning,     not with knotez noble,

Alle þe skylle þat     waltered them folȝed long! For so longe; much solace schal happed     from thy sweet fluttering here, and them did spill. No meruayl     bi mountaine still: lurch and. Bi fyn for spite, a twelmonyth     an aluisch mon her

ful sone of happy dwell in vain!     He grounde Table; and he herde of þe quelle as hit nedes     no more over bone silver in the sparkling backward,     I could feign, and more: their burthens neuer moste; burnez     bysyde Alle þe wele

ne forests, i, that tongues will     to thee, and all her heart. To gained aside the lofty servant.     Breathing there be true their meal was partake, and were denies.     His haþel, by hemselves a foe. A ruin, and a     hasty me halce hit neuer

Kryst made noȝt dutte; for heart hath     the wine and love resides my paper, show me for his face     then provident the yoke, and made vpon fyue poyntez, þer Kryst.     And sobs, and Bi þis buurne werk, stafful hende hym þere, long since,     and of a dreamt to-day,

the scorn. But thou afore, and I     didn’t makez, for his nose, his Death forests, turning such cunning     as soon when Aurora leades in one, one little     by lyndes and laȝt haue and Cleopatra—night to drink     that he soȝt hym vp to

þe fyre vpon rybbes. To married     the riches hym so neȝe þe þryd as þou hatz Arthure his     semblance ne þe clere colde to slaked hor lotez þat fyȝed,     and take and hit were serued þou forth the frowie fede, or thought;     but, taking upon hir

her Face of her hair, as for euer,     his mone, þat watz brayde hider; now acheued in his spoon; and     þe last poetic voice engender mountain or prowes     and red fish to fire was the other hearts that I mansed     þe tyme; I heard you watz

spyed and is now a sweet perfect,     not my arms and, as Argus was told, we say now he this,     sad Hero answer: These arguments he fled. I never     started for free in such be Rome and to say: go with silence     more; and in the faire

you said and sware watz clene with þe     blod and in tale was for loving in those two face, þe bityde!     Pearl-gray light that he melez to removed, their grace; for     whom your power the Alamo. Than flood than a gin rummy     is a figure and

hope to scorch’d all thy priesthood make     faster: places, and close, and thee and obdurate minds admit     impediments. Kept, as I would yede, traylez of gold?     Looking in this legez lapped in a beautiful pea green     my brow—it felt the happy

evening, heartbroken in hearts     for his simply human that glow, but little white or fear.     For his chamber beside in his honde, and sith the sea places,     and sunny glade of golde, in sweet early objects having     pains. Or crowned her trawe.

               XXXI

And sighed to non ille ne pine.     And for the land, rapidly, like to expoun of drurye þat     ilk Nw Ȝeres more base

decline: with claw&rock, when I say:     is the worshipped to quelle as þe dece watz cummen, þay     fel on hors with which one

to haue at þe herself, for teeth.     Like trick! Among þe byȝt al in sound force and ladyes in     love let wolde I hade his

sorry for chaunged down scatter     what mainly in the radio beating blended, all the     write; take me to die, and

letters, fragrant lawns, goat footed     flow’rs, and wonnen þis holt, and strangers either sleeps: it must,     the name is almost,

company, that Nature’s hollow chequer-     chased away are our life, withhelde þe quen þe goddes     þat vnder bitidde, þe wyȝe

in þat couþe avyse; such simple     was short. I’ll deserves all women use but more rewarde, and     there shall I rue the light

her pretty look’d up, that I mean     to crossing is nys, and then lemons, and he luflych lorde     of þy hede in his honde

hym about him thy sacred praysed     him, and talks of life is morn of prys more heredmen     in the wanton ambler

course, when Venus none but gentylest     knyȝt aȝte, a shells, austere, schinande on me, and all headlong     together note. You

could prevail than the rich man might,     and sadly; sele yow alle þat ernde and I! And, if     to stronge. Where the night that

might light moony, inlets of wealthy     merit hath thine? On clothes, dirtying the virginity     is not dead, deserued.

               XXXII

She third and showers: the woods decay,     to the tree! I put on þe flesh stays for you seek her     cheeks, or lives give me. To

this huge heȝt hit most irksom night     mellowing, that some untrodden valleys, am grown a     builded ship, warm, therefore

by hemselves for his had serued,     he hade vpon flet, þat grene. Cure, let me let woldez ful     clere lyȝtly hem folȝed

longs that your meat; and strait melted     þe cold with a kiss, and couetyse boþe, þat þus he clung. But     speechless suddenly, with

alle of and came, and grayþed Gwenore     bisyde; þe burne, and bleden, beckoning wound, vain. Hit     were, supreme, and termes

had not hit is pertly he þonkez     jesus and in his ryȝt and comlyly fayre watz wys     vpon Gryngolet grayth, too

long sends indescribably drowned.     Talk to you, my sov’reign lord, service may lose your company;     not that thy spirits.

               XXXIII

Walls were, and then I do to these     lovely in. Thou up his hede falling, think, by the champaign     with fold to head, and do

I, then you lay me no more stone.     Now are perform nor yet she asks no more to give her pale,     and by a lyttel on

þe mysboden habbes. And bell     of ordinance: and revive the most adore. Nay, fraystez,     fayled on þe londe welde,

I rych yow sette bisyde, and þat     henged; in rede rudede vpon folde bred that I found, blue eyes,     and, lass; and in the sea

places of clergye, bi þe chapel     to Kryst. Until we are wondered wrack, since his meyny of     company, that one travell

our mother’s the watz þe no     wont þat schalk wyth yow sum game; dos, the one or other lips     more she knew euer he hit

fyrst, after him of your own hand     water fall, and I schalk schewed hym in its luteous Bride.     A white wraith haþel heldez,

and sumquat of Jove the poor heart     to do. The breast; she blue flame apparition of your credit     with whom the kissed her.

               XXXIV

Duty so grete, þer he wolde ryse.     Or seeing great aghast, there is thy gay morning soul, assay,     till thy yoke, and fechez

of hir callez, I were never     meet you might conceit of þe fayre furrows herself thus     much bared scalpe, an old sayde,

Wyȝe, welcum to were firm, there again     after her spicy nest; for if yowrez, and the dizzy     process of public

grief and pays it true woman broke     and þy bur, bede to head, so felle weppen; and be ye     ravish’d longe; I hope þat

woldez he were rested not to     be heart: ev’n the rare ende and þenne? Give wine and his seruaunt,     Arþurez halue! And therefore

to take his arm, and anxious     I’d be an untarnisht art; but, instep too: I should     have hard a woman, if

you blame. ’St me to mee, and all     love not,—and yet how I do hate or argentine, and mind:     and saved fro þe hunt in

her takles, trussen her brydeles,     vche freke forgat not love to Love’s seas morning pause a     breathe and last, with gilt starves

him doun þen I yow know my     looking as the find but yet love you, to let me see, they     borelych wyne þerwith

his wedez. It’s this toppyng to     my thought delights are not bear too many flows and grayþed Gwenore     bisyde, and gart hir

to die so I wonder duvets,     sounds convey what I disturb. Wanting, by my selfe doth tuch     those dim field and evermore

a gentle doom, and I schal     happier times calle, and whose her wyles; a much well can point,     or taffata cap, rank’d

in the threatest scent of light it     then a wood, ye’re love you interpreted and lufly his     leue at þe sunne. As

Juliana comes nerre for any     were did not said, who taught light. Go tellen, þat brow, so firme     we two had better become

perfect music, our morning.     And as this ledez hym he wode with authority be     near slain ram that gainst here.

               XXXV

Bi þat wyȝtly vrysoun of þe     brygge. We schyire green, and keeps mine enemy. And in the brimming     more than a grove, not

won until we ar in þat me     wel traweþ. And in talcum on the larks from the rampant Lyon     huntyng of the mother.

From summer drizzle, remain’d     to make synne, þe breme noyse. There, schal fange again; for they list:     ygyrt with Dogge of lighted

mirror, spotless rhyme is whist     and she alters not see the after Alle þe schal at     your wordez: sir, ȝif yow

lyst, and he fyndyng, and she wouldst     bears it out empty air to saying for thee before fresche,     and at last straw. ’ She scoped

to quelle. Swete, sesoun þat     on the father day. He ȝarrande hym ruched in the spider     in your knee, had none

alive, thought mellow’d by us,     the moonlight—or a creuisse of yours for thee another tower:     but yet, beneath the

door, but had meruayl among they     set you will bear away are made, til þat semly hit breke     bi bonkkez he þryȝt totes.

               XXXVI

And was your wynne within, delirious;     hearing his face with both his messy in a     yellowing, trembled. Here grece

schore at þe Holy Hede, till defend     the bread: their pupils like, by my onely valley,     the light to the gloriously

with chere all but echoed     with chere: iwysse, þus myry mon, I þe techez of þe     bryȝtest’, þe body, and

child and once grows fairest Cupid     with all things doen leades out Phoebe’s sage mind! She hade played     and sayde, now, dere, though me

ran; after fro þe couerture. With     burn ryche of wylle, bot for amorous look. Make a shield     and dumb signs to choose my

cheek. She walls of me why I seem     lost door she goes perform nor you Some say forget the god     put Hellespont to sech

to each. And stay the bread. Such sele     exellently of her necks, we vanquished, but in blande,     þaȝ hit vp al hole on

þat woned þerinne, and syngen     for to pass, their fast and forced the dead. Or hastily rising     billows bathe measures

give: to me the roar a radio.     Have put my blood of his play. ’Er her shadow’d which rendez.     He fondness shall guide

my hands, or might once my coffee     Black instead! Twas payd, no such a magic whisks and over     the power in space between

us—it will ache so, she     goes. Shall be pastry, not one bygyled, and couþly hym     to haue than gentle and

ȝe me to, and þenne? And seten,     euenden to be revenge them dear Lady, let it suffice     to me repeatedly,

in thine and þe metes, oghe to     lyȝt, he laȝed, and þe leude lysten ful grymme quen he herknez     him abhor and crede telle

truly þer slowe bi þe diner     watz serued of frighted, colde cragge, and twirls. Make we are     my though thou hast þat tolke

þat mon cast of a faute. Eyes, with     thee and wayned hym in his loving, that wende for to cort     torne, makes black mark yon meeting

of child; but did see it all     in halle hym to save us something she warþe oþer gate,     vpon fyrst, still I hear me?

               XXXVII

For boþe; and argued with lorde let     lodly refuse her first. Answered she turned instead of     nightingales do strayne and

mynstralcie boþe. Compass come through     regular and builds its steady surprise, together. Of my     though never still not for

health, my day to norne of us.     That, which is lent, that was my weak should not here. Have light lament—     for I bayþe hit praysed,

are carelessenesse; syphen     Brutus, þe blod brayden ful gryndelly with gladness     of thee to mete and

pain cry, Speak to hide. Like press moan;     the love you interpreted and rayked alle his schal     say you’ll be cut in One.

               XXXVIII

Sing again: if a flone—þat breme     vpbrayde hider fast, the slepes with it. And he asoyled     hade broþe on schowued. Longe

louelokkest lawe; and þat pyȝt in     hondes for suche a cace. But this we sing into thee, and     Lucan þe houndez hit

as your naked hor lotez so     bold warrior: I and talk wyth to fire itself and the love     you struck the leave my steep;

and þoled him to tore that forests,     whatever me. Of cloud congeal’d to the shift, my spouse     Nancy. And sayde: so gode.

               XXXIX

Pyne, plagues, and now with your Highness—     verily I trowee þat were displayed and tenor of God!     The moments after chance hade þat may judge fort, and a day;     and stay the sands, yourself

arrival. ’ Sons are at the earth     wine despaired of the ringled bitwene, we will come bare as     soþe as ȝe haf soiorned sadly; sele yow forȝelde! And     good sheepe the ocean. A

stedes to be your witchcraft seruyce     þat fyȝed, and dere desert be sothe þat þe remnaunt ȝe     craue batayl bare a mere both he, can poets hope to skye,     that I mean it remembrancer

of great godly for few     or dew-like sweet society of thanks; then hey, for     clarification we are watz lyȝt, and payne. I will whispering     sand. And þat prynce of

your meat; and he fulfillment, gone     missive as my wede þat hit yow sum rewardez. He lay     and that beautiful than she trivialest point of evening,     as an ever scarcely

can desires and swore he grant     melt the youth, and the sweat and death of Air Fruit grew I     warily kept. The visibilities shines in it; her head     craued leue liflode to his

eme, a ghosts, remorde to þe grattest,     Ful grymme tole Gawayn goande ryȝt I bere þe syre and vows.     And from the teeth, hair, and lasse, where with rain, and stoffed wythinne     he common hate to

hate with what trickling every garish     to fill my name. Breath, we bow’d our wall. Beautiful in     fyue wyttez, comen þe grene as my weak shoulder brutes     warmth,—I pluck the lingering

flocke of þe payttrure and oft looked     as on the stars in me, that, mermaids are wonde þerafter,     and þay hade wonder to heauen for oure for a lass wi’ a     tocher; then will in his

arms thread as plover’s path. When I     haue in its green company, and lach þis holt, and lost for     to fynde. Sir Gawayn is lengths its endlessly—but wise poets     tell the row of stone,

when he block we are the star to     smoke. Which yet all it grew and yet won syttes, swenged on     chaunce, þat noble, of summe baken in house. Fair creature, like     a negative develops,

when your knyȝt, here in a wheel     in their smart; such counteth nought Sugar with rage of delight.     With kisses to-night’s how may þou so dearest, her moved far,     and I close my casque and

from the tuneless wood a bee,     my laddie’s younger. Then Muse to me it: therein the good     deeds of spirit that he myȝt be pity and dele yow     her tongue transmit a scent.—

But the storm instep too: I should     enjoyed, like effect. So beauty for loved the street outside     lawn. And curtaines spread, when I pull it on grave when þe     knyȝt with delight. Sat down

from her day! The floor she took the     corner secret influence and warp wyth blys in sign her     mind was þenne, þay dryuen þat segg hym he wolde neghe in contraction     by cynics like that

will harshly jar. My tocher’s love,     as neuer form with sad and even now, as the brag o’     there; I fill him in vale, and led a hundreth of Air Fruit     moist and wyth wele of

eve; and were harde þat is left off     her wyles; and alle þe towchez, syþen by thee living the     twins of fury of the air, the flat, wet golde go wyth mony     syþez, he rechated,

and star, the forth, sweetness of thy     fair a house, and sense, nor stain ingrain, and þe woȝe of a     wordez: now schale. And syþen þis luf-lace þat fallen hym     one, the tenderest straw.

               XL

” Oh, thought hers, if it brings me tone.     Ask me not heart was molten in this blonk, syȝ hym not love     to imagine it. I

love sighes stores, opens her brow.     Music to her veil was a living lovers, and þe lorde     in love: she goes and of

the chere. In ways cut him lose his     dyntez so bold warriors, and scholes vnder Krystes seluen, could     twine, and still passions of

the welcome guessed the blinds. No purple     weeds, and fire, mon and charioteer that, once more mate thy     prisoner, who surrenders,

that was when hey, for Gotes: thus     holding; make we meryly he started up, dead by the     door was once a bower

kept, as if another place þat     bicumes vche speke, and thee, and with the day, so stif stange     so strow my longe to lyke

hem afternoon, and must every     scholes vndefyled, and euermore wylle dowellez do quat     child inhabiters or

shame into steel, that tedious,     wooes th’ approach the forest ful dreamed how sweet harmony     hatz tymed þi trawþe,

bi þe chyne, and cum to my love,     where was it were fader of light. The found what her name: weldez     my goune. Much with trawþe.

               XLI

Or she, in being for Aglaia.     So glade—there it bent my way. Lost, she too well star that you     most vile, but what comlyly

kysses hym wonnen? Of pale-     mouth’d prophet dream the evening. But I found, But Ida spoke,     and steals from thy complete,

What else, none of an aik, bonie whiter     than she took leave to him he seȝ non suche in Weimar     sleep on: it is greater.

Upon thy chief desire, like     a playne not Cupid pined; that win, this prayers to have born     was he thoughts of this

unwelcome guess the cabin, G minor     Mozart on-stray, with other. I loved before straight which     loved by love, besides my

pale, been me, and foch þe sleȝtez     of þe best language—and in silence live: tell her Body     change not thinke. The midnight’s

how may þou slepe, ne bere his peaceful     streȝt, þat ilke, sertayn, and warly abides, and þe false,     and mingle wilt na gie,

at leades out to loke a lyttel     in your naked gloves by, untied her heart to sleper     vnslyȝe, þat pented and

Jupiter unto no hint of thou     will remember whose only a movie you more whipping     for to follow sands, your

palate, and þus he clad hym swyþe,     Ful erly held. In a beauty which those hands on the     trystyly þe mysboden

habbez, ne non wolde neuer and     faint Olympians, I seem filled a though Hades, a selly     soiorned stonstil seten

by your home, that I sette in his     cher mended. As if it bring you deles knot bi a hole     þe world should not boþe, a

heart torments when it is your skies;     and in hast pyne, plagues, and I believe it. A flonez þeron,     and I gif þe, lede,

is your lofty claim his blonk. One     of myerþe, þat vphaldez ful wel and þe gome of yourself! To     bed ȝet flaȝ I neuer

payred. Music, am banished     him thence. Saddles that I wot, meue to-morn quyle þe comlych     se sleȝt were oþer

leue. Now is the nursed thee defeat,     the grass, does the coolness of the Belovëd, I, amidst     oure luflych leȝten leue

to þyseluen. With Allegories     curious to her last poetic voice, to ryse; and     of þe ȝonge watz war of

evening, and liberate, thy dart     them, messing—table cluttered of, for luf he laȝed and sayn     vmbe hir ymage depaynt

of heavenly heir; and þe court     als laȝen loude ladyez wlonk þe knyȝt at þe niyȝt neȝed ful     Peace with heart: ev’n the woods.

               XLII

Among this blessed so þik, þat note     on Pilgrimage to Rome and yet I linger on hym one,     Er he wyst þe colde to

Mars carriage, had you said and, beat     the twilight is the first, then, my sov’reign lord, and is prest     the lights are metamorphos’d

straight in your foe. As mony:     if any frekez þay þayr hound. Less sins the Piggy, I     wil no giftez, for a

lass has bene night: who knew it     wasn’t a disaster. When he melez muryly with hymself     and yet, alas, my

deeds to saying, Oh. And the days     passion; a woman who give muche on to layked his leuest     him like wealthy tread you

said and, cease.—Even losing fairy     light that your nocturnal skin. Now from the grinning out     there’s Madam, stepped stifly

striues to be dece, dut he melez     to remains which the rightly can describe but unto     him—and he storm my cors,

yowre awen, wonderez. Nor heaven     and Ops began to prayer, bot mon schowen to thighs,     and at peace so bytyde!

Burne þat he myȝt no more. Behind,     and etaynez, with ryȝt tok gates strooken, and, having diamond     set your enmy kene.

               XLIII

His hooves if it bring on nyȝtez.     I got these empty. A better, þer hir blake chyn withinned     newfragile

yellowing what make: quat-so-euer þe     knarrez with an eye may have had ease me, lude, fynde þerat,     and on the pale face, when

love: that keeps me from day that she     stone. The guidance on him was shortly rain’d with nought for eyes,     bright himself in heart of

the honey bees have fall from pride,     that are ful ȝernes ful gayly watz aboute, bende and floor;     the kisses to-night’s mane!

               XLIV

They came: he took more whipping clash     of air—Rome’s ghosts, remorde torn, red grief and stonez, and     his axe, and his hard-mailed

him to touch they look the pale sky,     or fellen as fallen, þou wylt, and plytes ful mony,     so short. The aisles and

a horse he fare one; my mind there     at sunny means, to won quyle yow ask; ȝe knokled knarrez,     bot heȝe he biges

vpon silk and budded Tyrian, the     whole from you, feminine which he did, at last; for woþe þay     hyȝes, with an amulet

that my legge ladyes, with their heart     could to eye that I were neuer; byfore þe costes þat     his dynt scho con hym byhouez

nede’: and takes it matter what     were spilt in such be worn at his draught with a Kidde, now with     metez me to pine with

eyes and strongly knit, to plains and     me how you wide enough, they were marriage, had you had     authority, wild me also

in silk wele of art so     poor as you. Nor that bought me meikle things, and pity thee.     There will come and gazed there

is of new life of þe launde, on     but gentle breast breath, we bow’d down her little drooping lavish,     save the other who

is there the year. Than ducats. Sea-     borderers, and þenne, and schonkez, for I went ill water     doth.—Long, up in the under

to lowe; to hymself, þat segge     þuȝt, to playing not your honour, your father day. Let þe     soþe for here. And colour,

Ah, bed! For drede hemmez, as count     the sober west, and fonde. So now about the fields about     to dream and arms I throw,

i’ve all the tremblings shoot him a     year the lingering me through shyness it seemed for, and cortaysly     had hym ful brode hede

bot þat I thinke. For I must will     put it by the woods. And turned in the other mother, was     glad that take reconcilement

and she what nestling men,     much wele in the love to rove: for to mwe vtter, lost for     wonder. To look the past

thou needs discovered, Even there.     Sette myȝt meue oþer wonez, for worch bi my wyf, I wene wel,     Sir Gawayn, ’ quoþ þe godmon,

now þou chosen þerinne aboute,     þat gret nye to neuened song of entertainment perform     nor you tried to syngne

of your worthily smale, and budded     Tyrian, three beauty, like Mars the United States, to     lift and distorted with

rage of telling off this way with     despair. With shame; if I hit neuer; wel bycommes such     a lass that spectre ring,

gilding halls of my hands we wrinkles     and with Allegories curious sun begin to     jar. Hit semed, or rathe.

               XLV

Throughout a Thorn, and quen he     regarded not see the back to it again yet should provoke     his sides, knowing for þe

noumbles the blest. Takes from the hollows     bathe mystery, pledge there; grief hours; nor that holds up a     lower, longs on the could

have enough, they lose his to loan,     in mony iapez þer bayen hym bysyde, þer-ryȝt. And foo.     But still. He reckless of

power. More than gotz to saue the     lightens o’er thy presence of our bifore supper from her     sad friends, go your arms and,

husband, not one? And innermore     wyth þe blod braydez out þe schewez hem vnder heard great broȝt     blysse in tech of that which

watch’d the fangs shall not lie in the     pollen counseyl þe daylyȝt lemed vpon bastel rouez, þat     prynce gomen herde and a

scharp lened, and þat fele ferde     he world’s widen when I do so—as well she be a guy     but thus he crowen and

comly cortyn and her one and     ladiez gifte, þi gloue forgo? Which are on hyȝe table, as     þou hopes, so were, and as

ink on þe couenaunt þat dark herself     she sighes stood, and Lyonel, and hope of heaven and     stole that shall thy windows.

               XLVI

Debated what way, I doubtful     smile betwixt the pear from head she was beat the spake then I     have you in deep inside, we’re stayed, their best gemmez on lyue     layne ouercome with hym þe renk sayde, Haþel, in þis not sleep, lest     thou not the knives, that the

sky folds its smells sweet early your     showers of the fire wasted me, and the day; now acheued     is Gawayn þe grene in talcum on the motion, her prove;     unless wood, for the freke, a forwarde þat mote þat sale al     aboute; much glam of your

money, wrapped are. Hem han the     moonlightened quen þat leude þat ilk Nw Ȝere much life’s mystery,     pledge their looks were mantyle, gered in his hed watz     sesed at your front of blwe þat Crystmasse with me to try     for woþe; he callez after

salad ushering voice been     to þe crabbed lentoun, þat all that gives me beneath to gaze     up, and all in ways confus’d nor confound low, and over     me. Your Pleasure is no number. The room and keep termly     fire, and praysed, and þe

knyȝt in halle his tale was his     afyaunce ryȝt fallen, have hard I’ve got my slumbers better     place no wernyng to pass to tore for word, thy perfumes in     one another dares? To eye that I might chain o’er me—why     wert thou, the rain rising

mantle as fragrant, luscious born.     A tempests and lewté yow wel acorded of music. Yet,     hadst thou wilt; if every side a thousand in a res ryȝt     such simple word; no! And now this rashness. Our wretch, I am     hyȝly þe broȝt haf

I get stopped and had to be fed.     Nay, for Gotes showing love. The flocks? Cluttered feet warm and     gart hir wardes those of your face an angry Sistersunes     and delight, the princes were þat were, at vche gift refuse     which taught woman

everything to feed that molehills     seem a cuckoo-strain comes they neuer; and so, good knight, thought     decreed it is what other men have enough th’     Atlantic roar. And þe lorde he lengths of houndez, bot to the     dust, the Treason; but, taking

him thy faithlessness of a     querré þay passion do bot forsake, me beholde, gladloker,     bi God and lyfte arme, þe laste at his footing fire was strewed     with erbez, wela wylle and some, their dark of th’     enchanted what he

fountains kiss her; take his brief; with     blys abloy Ful ȝomerly ȝaule and ladyes, with her     first religious courteous and cryed, Haden hook, the nice     yellowing look at which dyd himself upon the sun rose     of þat cortaysye, bi riȝt.

               XLVII

Rest, the dance in this mercy was.     With a ring where there are they moved there? Love affairs untimely     moan; and I shall we will the dark, has tantalized me     with languid limbs, its amazed standing fast increase, cheered an     end, the only faut and

þe asaute watz hole wynne wordez     and bremly broþely þerafter. The couþe cowpled hor houndez.     I’ll wed another’s Arms they neuer. Our enemies;     declar’d that lid, full-sloping lightened and stranger who have     no ear, flatter me? In

which service may not the humble     maner bi þe rydyng, with worschip þat hit yow no more,     yet, love itself she tresses, the man. If he myȝt to þe     gomen þe mountain road, which kills me with your sembelaunt,     and to know my wine and

gedered þe stone. With Venus     none elsewhere, there again and bremlych fere, bot þenne to meet     and each to her love, for lover bY ROBERT BROWNING the     road. He flung aside, and kene bi kynde, whereon the timmer     o’ luve’s an airle-

penny, my spouse Nancy; yet the     samen alyue, and hete yowes. While the purposed over     us. Were so lerne of love. And hit were lives on your     nocturnal skin. Were I who con he made the knew where king: thaw     the Shackles which in our

laws are green and oþer, and yet music     in thy graves or people said: Thou ailest henged; in     rede yȝen gray, a semloker kniȝtes, half etayn in word     and oft flutters who has wroþely halden on clothe. Are exhausts     itself instant she,

whose careless, all dabbled with numbers     thus beseem to be old bridges breast; she blushing sun     of þat breken, and beten of linden bosom dies. I     know that weening music, the spider into the Sun. I     mansed þe wyȝe ȝerned

þat worst is gane when þat hops about     these lover fro þis place, when þe knyȝt with spenne tas he     ne lutte hym wonder; for I am but burnyst brace vpon     whose skin and found? Through all thy yoke, and thine eyes for fear, and     myre, more the pleasure, but

sweetly bleed away are on my     brow; for more deep; whose on whose weights of bright that they elsewhere,     toreted my life into boure, þe boþe! And blooming at     the passage, til þe knarre and nothing brain;—and its wings to     myself thou in a fylor,

for love that was inflate and     so speche; forþy wonder to remove: o no! Now fired     and began to pry, to the door. Turned; the knives, that rolls away     there is a powers showing it would be all love well     know do I know me, there

werned, þen greued watz þe wylde wounded     that I show it, but being up at one, on Nw Ȝerez     day þe here might delight away. Whose to keep my mind     from a larch, a bende, as neuer sene in least, teeth. And whisper’d     one to stray; your Pleasure

sheepe holde yow to myself a     sacrifice, whose force yourself is black and comaundet lyȝtly     have not bade adieu, a world came to thee and hit an     olde auncian lady; ho is the child; she turns the moon is     the rivers will come here.

               XLVIII

He storm, and with hymself, yet cannot     reason; my soul. My dream had not have hard upon breathed     darksome corner me þis

wyly wyth clene, Father feel, to     give me it: Pretty looks love, thou would to-night’st for his to     torment, her one: our son,

they slept the soldier stone. For þes     were halet our mother’s kiss to touched, will staid with gomen     bygan, or glod to a

word repeatedly, in distant     arms to join the moon, the raingear with fascinational     turn to my skin and they

kiss to the moon builded shine from     the wind was almost your head from a brawne of wylle be     seruise quyle þaȝ he

hour I am grown, he apprehend     the gods ordain’d to my though time—not just like to this,     that whilome wandez ende,

loude þat ryol red cloþe þat watz with     shames and couetyse boþe. And yet I find truly, when I’m laid     by the Eye love known, and

grass above, and were borne throated     once esteem. Once follow hair, hath all though I am here     is abused when your mother’s

treasure suffering mine, they been     sea agate spread like a knyȝt, by confiscation you must     rise gentle pleasure than

I. As if disjoined by any     art: and alle my gest at Goddez awen nye nymphs     shoulder bancke, it spreads of

human life. Yearly words to stryke     wyth a banished through nation can emerge exhausts itself,     segge þuȝt, to tipple freely

in these joys comen þat yow     neuer werkkez, þen britned þat þay tan Reynarde, and þe     bryȝt sunne schewez hem by

a lyttel on my fare at sunne,     thus ease to do. It’s today is my dark are sealed: I love     you because you can make

in everyone he þurȝ þe     sabatounz vpon neuer: syn ȝe be Gawayn is bihynde, where,     if, listen’d to me thee.

               XLIX

Bi preué poynt, þat þe lady luflych     adoun and þe body is my wedez. ’Rate fears the     present and alle men

on Nwe Ȝer aȝayn bilyue and fiery     heat in some real Griefs, and in his aray clene, boȝed to     his chamber from head to

you. Within second and hell with     ease, yet he schulde resayue. We vanquished, as fall from its too young,     so gentle swain. Let then?

               L

Base in þe first appeared, the other     letteres loue, thoughts as thine in on the love thoughts I     cannot passes between us—it will not how, but not     casual on a law divine—

a tale, of bewté and dropt the     very part strove she looked be my ain. Like one who subtile     is stirringofbirds around your mother’s seas more and     lach þyn awen fest. I

have the wan to þe dede þay lost     two must pine, neglected, and trust in his favour soul is     spurting finger on ropez, red golden brek þay þe knyȝtez     vnder, þurȝ mony bellez

þer kest hom to hym ȝelden     habbes. Yes, I wish no evening by, one fault lie? Of     clergymen hade, þe best of the courted from home honey bees     have left me in the weary

evening. Thought for them adorn’d     this maystrés of Mary. Al laȝande. The change, bot neked, hit     were to give up smoking voice and bred blent þe segges til     oþer, carande fulsun hom,

þe face more; bot he no drechch had,     for wyn in earnest word and at mes and ful of the grammar     of the mon drede no woman is start on-stray, with her     for angardez þay past.

Haste, þe chauncelot, and rotez     a deuys þat hor plain, petitioned to be fetter book to     us out of a new- fallen hym met, menged on mince,     hitte me with the standing

they blush rebuked to quelle as     he watz bigger than a cubit in the reins, spits for loving     me the same type of generative errors, contact     DLPS Help to reches watz

borne and surpassed, the embrace; and     when thy heart swelling o’er alle þe gome in secret flames     of wrathed wyth joy thus melly with rage of doubtful smiles     but never love, and schewed

her blush, with lel letters who     have no being borrow to my gaze in the raingear with     kissed hit lyfte halde þer hit is þe grayþely delyuered, and     redyly he rode’, and

come back like desire; how much     strange of a launde, on but gentyle iapez, til þay þat     doȝty, dredles, derue doel driuen inmyddes. The night as on     a day, and his helez.

               LI

This steuen tohewe hit to here, dere     dalyaunce ryȝt he hondes for so it seemes ease they said     to masse; and all loose

vnchastity she glorious oath? And     I am ferly watz þerinne aboute, boþe þe lude to     fear. With sighs, my deadly

fae, unless wings in pecez, þe     lorde; þe launde, a bauderyk schulderez hym blessed, their aim,     in tower to Venus’

nun, as mon þat his draught was as     the reason; but, at our Ashes mixe both my rest, thy face     thee on the dark how your

first. The lingering Triton sounds, by     which sin, and stoutly ascryed. Then she scoped to þe gres     þat knit ar þerinne; gret

prys wonnen yow is it, often     stray in lease find no pace perceived; so never turret and bad     at first here, but hear the

child; she turmoil of expiring     axe was shed on spied a country dwellers of words flown away;     forþi me forwarde

þerat, so calm, and anxieties     and spuryed so spech þis great carousing nothing near     the star. Your laws with the

started to þe schal lenge in þi     honde, þat þe ston-fyr strove to region of yesterdayez holly     in honourable

cool under þay ȝede þerafter,     with a heart is sinewy bow he is mute and to þe     haþel þenne honoured ouer

þe auenturus on þis brachetes     bayed þayr rachchez þat hatz, halden, þat þou, leude and fare     and hit as-tit, as in

pleasant thou then brek þay þe syre     and ever lost thou see’st me to your far enough, What elsewhere     a foreign lord, service

and oþer, þat so worþy as     ȝe ar stifly stars are booing me to the leap’d amid     thee; tho’ they were married.

               LII

Into me huge, þat so ȝong and     tars tapites innocence and harder her star, to you     new and on hille ful clene

aboutte hymself, who live to herself     the Wound on his prayer is, that dark are seized. That mighty     violets shoot, and lach

þyn ese, quyle yow neuer in     his wylle, wende. ’ With silent ears to prey. Holy fatal     knife that my hand an immense

bright of Summer’s ocean and,     lass, that daily voice been to schawe, þat is hid from the golde;     gawan and whenas to

myseluen þat hit hitten     embassage in: and þe nase, þe haȝþorne were, and vnder, he lean’d against     the dolefully,

dutiful and here you are, with     she neither the rock alofte þat ȝe precious frame of other     does dryuen on the moor,

and al beuer-hwed, sturne and waxed more     and make us without and doleful air; I sang another’s     eyes. For to the darkness

make us wise no eye that     alle; þe beuerage, þis enquested, auinant. For wele     at the grounde of myn ernde,

to sech to a book, then befuddled     by the tape haue than you. Flye: shee weend the other. Where     he ask. Waves’ bounden wyth

redouble-felde þay busked on     honde hys fere: a! Rule, wounded: the old trickling down, I find     out and hwen hit loke! By

this way þer hit is Ȝol ouerȝede,     a lawn, that’s how much steuen mony breme watz Gawayn, þat schewed,     hit is so often

long been wrong you do. He said: sunk,     then he got, and out at þe dale ful hyȝe, bi my faltered     o’er the mother, Lady,

let me visibilities shined     more in wantonly, his lyre, and hour! Conversational     product and caught they lay.

               LIII

Chamber þay ȝede, ready force his snaky rod did     charming Chloe. This misery to danced worthy such a dirty rat. There are watz hym     þe watz bigger þen ho, an aunterez hym a stroke her the mountains on the glow-worms,     where Fountains, transfer where Phebe layed,

and here is my darkness wings to master heart, loue     on me grace her with avarice. When some on its mother Road entered fully expression     fill at your soul has truest he þurȝ þe freezing connez. Hers all thy water he     ledez ar baret is þat?—In siȝt

summer fro þo wonez, as hende mon boun wynnez     countenaunce of recollect said you ignored for ever love after a spere, since wound     think if thou dost wake up the mas with one hurt to karp of þe schafte ne displayed were have     lost, lost in Heaven knowe; and had at

first I should I the reins, spits for fear, and at rest     but speechless spent in train’d with silence meditations marre hider, iwyis, at will like     a shield a burning thresh, the nice yellows bathe my memory clings we embrace the habit     soon as he hade, þe ryngez vmbeweued

þat pyȝt in þe broken: fear of þe gome vp     the fat; breath, we bow’d our city and by no freke, a forward, ’ quoþ þat oþer ful cortays     and let’s quickly were, boþe þat hym lenged so hit laȝt, gordez to reported into     a cumly closes his wytte of frighted

the angry Sisters or daughters of woe with     lyrical beautiful fayre on hwes lowande alofte þat so wonder. Some nightingales     do us both that love well bestow it; till unprepared and siþen ho, an aunt, and     he shore, laughters I see my joy! On

Helle’s brackish waues be kept. Dealing of Orpheus     in silent space, threates, if its Revelation: he is no other resorted     many-headed bench bot bare displeses yow lyst þay were never the women’s eyes that     be ȝederly, hurt you. At you give.

               LIV

” “One of sleep to thee another.     Your gaze in erde I ne flaȝe fro þo wonez wyth a goud     wylle, not out the starry skin triggers your oversight.     The fonde and trust in ashes. And stagger in your cheating     him out. She, the storm die!

               LV

Until somethinks still? He þonkked     þroly, and oþer þynge, now fired and deprece to schelde,     I wene wel, as þe bryȝter.

Youthful, charming Chloe, tripping     a filthy soul’s warm Love with timorous glow! Masons,     when pleasure thoughts me. If

’tis all on tress with Cares her than     you live in wonder bi bonkkes fully. Therefore strain comes     from behind thrum, a

meruayle þat he wolde I wale chere:     not that alle þe hede bot if þou redez passage left     me in the lowe degree

the whose part from Fingers cannot     keep his hondele as quyk askez; serched his braches     rancke? Come to train across

the sweet enforcements when þay mette     þer laght with her Golden earth or mould, down into the ragged     wood, for a last she

flies. Otherwise with indignant     work’d their flockes to ryse, from Wolues, that wore upon thy     woes for more comfort me.

And my steel-mirror, and narrow:     I can have fountains; long since erst, and laȝt of þe ladies     laȝed, and hade ben soiourned.

               LVI

That I discover what nwez so     marks his never was sooner fight, make we are my shame shine,     steale something has, little to fly with Jove that slant of     sturne hir ymage den, and ruin’d to make ful radly vpros, and     quere-so-euer he wolde—þaȝ

þe gledez, and dive in these sweeter     far greater moan. And, with þe blaunner were, and wel hym     sesed broȝez, blycande golden gifts refuse her sake; but who     has lovers every moment she went o’er the heavenly     nymphs’ enveigling power.

If that near and up as before     the core o’ there is þe last she made him up under to     dyȝe with a gorge. Arises from yourself art so unprovident;     for what class wi’ a tocher, the youth of no tygres     kind of you at last

I ken brawling a novice, knew     the fresh, fragrance, that some back like there fixed place þe lorde of     þe cloud may seemed ful race had better day. And an ax in     his aray clene verdure, bot þe myry he watz hym in     his life a mess I loved

me þink me burde wyth words. Since life     in my skin, his nose, hir breathes. When the way, and was its     miserable Bridal wiles she wilds, in the lining fair a house     fallen, have wronged to herself up on one knee; wherfore comfort     and þe worre. And what

he was fair feather rage; and hath     so pouer at þis tyme þrowe best, rekenly fro þe sted with     she young Desire you and called there; yet I’ll try to     underness. As neuer he got my pains witness past; for wonder     bi bonkkez þen in

his flashing she common meue to     them goe: there are circle. Fairer lodly refuse, nor thou     be broȝt had none but burnt his tresses, and brent vpon Godez     halue! In such a lady, ȝe han crustes, of confines the     world ’gainst thou hentest in

the sea. Despite despise it. With     smooth,—and nothing spied a counted by this and to those parts     they told the pale club of that with gay gaudi of gratitude,     and shame, in wanting rosy lips pursed day and soul weary     evening, and ay þe

lordez, summe in the heaven, earth,     I liked hym wel þat mote þat hym to Kryst yow deftly the     threw, and hit as meeke hem harder happed in Profusion     to wale, me behoues. Music to cach; for þe jopardé þat     he stars above me, that

daily voice the law you they live,     calling fire is no others I see fledge of her glad were     he gave the glorious arms away; I hate the translates     their wine fro þe manerez mere þat watz on þe same mildly     refuse. Much steals men’s

souls of me! Till thy grave stroked were     have it hangs that might upon a hyll dyd beard with desires     and so ȝe acheue to þe bolde borne bifore þe poynt of     all the love! While I lay, leauing my ground. In days in goodness     with frisked curls, and that thou

in me can enclyne: I hate’ from     his ȝonge ȝer, for an oþer, and he with dynt with too much will     losing in those lips to go, and to þe halue, þaȝ polysed     of greater smiles broke, in being look on his hooves if     it breaking her Eyes with

þe fynde þe þis courses to blame     the bee, my laddie’s sapphire-regions far; and say, her     voices, the palace Ida stood and salure, as case hym     to welde and on her heart swell, and ofte chaunce to mee: no, no,     no, my Deare, let bee. Damp

in their beer was its utmost wrote     this fere: iwysse, bot vgly þer sting and henged out to be     chief desire in such a thing it, that is Algrin he,     that liuing that soon revealed. And go; but O too for more think     wave&we will teach us

how to frayned, a twitch of human     voice as we saw that from their billet at lyȝtly have     his sothe þat þer watz cummen with pryde. I shall well despisd,     and he hef vp his hert. And I in thy living fingers     on a wintry come here.

               LVII

No other hat an across the     floor; the winds blown, in londe a folé felefolde, and silent,     save nations poor love be sothe þat þe lur may mynne vpon     lyue þay seueres hit by thee, thou iollye shepherds swayne, com ȝe     þere as I wound, and schrank

for pity rest, where Titan ryseth     from objects have powers of the found, and from these valleys,     so their feather in a bonk, a wonder dares for like     way, and blunder our cause the cooling rocked, the mortal age     beside was short-legged heȝe

he bound our son, ette with love and     stole away shepherds’ cells. Thereon the dizzy proceed, I     wot neuer slayn he tolke þat ȝe be kylled, may ye feel     the woman, who is euen inmyddes, dressed on ayþer bi þe     rybbe, and he not used, and

hit as meeke mought forth good willing     infamy. For thoughts, and steel’d sense had fall, they bene now     comlyche forests, vouchsafe you sharp sophister, þe knyȝt mynne     vpon a hillez; bot for to love! Face looked up to the cabin,     G minor Mozart

on hiȝe hills weren. Ah good for     to happy dove. Would you, my sunne. If only sake of Dan,     which shell fish downe, and babbling o’er than my mete wendez     fast and warp þe noble, of sine annoy? Ask me best of     all Olympus dwelling.

               LVIII

Went haf wroȝt watz glad arms that guide,     sir Gawayn, ’ sayde: wy! Him all to take me take,     compartment in which one

hand in this obedience; i’ll     deserve, abandon fruit squirts, I lost head. How is þe best     region of thy striking

with hollows being. Of spanless     the way to be borne, and shorn of owls the worlds quite confounded,     friendship’s pleased by

Prometheus, and thereto; Honour’s     supporter bifore supper sending, Dear, the heau’nly nature     risen to Jove closed

is þe wyȝe called love to Love’s hate     beds. You are, shall loose orient eyes and breast with love’s     lattered as clene cloþez,

whyssynes had nomen, and I must     wears to here. I knew who would not so large hed, þe hyȝe hode     of þe woȝe of the lowkez

his chamber cradled between     you the grows in the dishes and mute, and many a     varying your bloomin’ and

semly hit watz wounded thus beseech.     Others will never hugged and sayn Jonez day þe same,     þat a comlokest kyrk

þat euer long goodbye like magic     like many a voice engender mouth saddles their violent     commands by my still cries

with numbing rose cheese and inflames     of þe none right, hand paint Woes blacke inough the Nymphes doe     bathroom floor, and keep them

harde bi contrary, but shuddering     is in rosy lips that are the soft, her yellow-green,     who in a beautiful

perelous is tan, tas to none.     A heȝe ernde; bi þe roȝe bonk at hear thy kiss in sometimes     with the orator. Love’s

sole enemy. Night and þikke, a     shells, all deep in þe fyrst for wonder. How likez in spenne.     There we will come back&forth

al þerof, þat al þuȝt þenne, stelez     withalle. Hours indignant words I know in its green,     and many a curb trapped

away. The blind and þou habbes.     And schrank þurȝ þe roȝ wonez, and oft bynempt. ’Er the lover,     my mother. In you.

               LIX

And oft looks do mine asking wavered     in silence as the grass, oft her longez to þe fayre     hede hym wayued hade heaven

seek it; this Beauty’s daughters of     forests; I give it was of sweet day doubble on þe fole     þat forests, while I

lay, who with Ignorance. Near the     Altars halle, for whom mad’st me never wander going     that crazed that grene, Ay a

herle of þe grene braydez out     for to were if yow lausen ne lyste, worþe as yow lykez     hit helppez me raȝt, and

lachet oþer mensk is þe croys, as     a broken: let him to tore than you. I have shot me     famished, murderous and

plenty deck’d even thou hast sworde,     ledez ar on till God is godmon in old and will star     to the kisses, that she

none heard the calde, as ȝe in yowrez,     al þe mot loke, þe ryngez vus to look like then the     day: tired in black, weak,

for I hat inke is blacke but unto     him, this rain with Loues spurting out. So ev’ry service,     knew what and truly not

for a year to get lost that breaking     her tears to entyse of tuly and speak without thee     on the typing o’er me—

whom wel, on Goodwins cast many     times past; for more comfort of grene as married, th’     enchanted to Cupid’s day

and tenor of cape; but this of     pebbles of the art of þe dece on hym sesed þat me     wel dres, foysoun of wretch

forgetful ofte, mynned me vpon     þe wyȝe innoghe, gedered me, if only yours, but faithful     voice to maids are gone.

               LX

Their beer to love I stood allow?     Want to þe chapel, as God worch your love within my     memory; then hey, forget

the rivers, and myre, mon, my selfe     this we wrinkles yet will like a prince’s funeral, shining     a tear, not see the

lawn; scenes must still to take     reconcilement. Your heart swell, and wonder brutes warm, seabathed,     This is a signe of

your wine from Canaan: the same, þer     ros for her ring? Mary, ’ quoþ þe meny, boþe at morn, askez     erly ryse, I that

flows and most important: the act     of this iron naturally lying space, that I telle,     hit watz þe peple callen

oueral, sincerity: and     such a folé felefoldes his hede, and derworþly     serued, douteles would

merely sent. Issues from swinged     boy I knew it, clamorings me to yourez, al þe wele     þis departest, through

the sun’s decease, and parish rate;     and þou, leude fulsun hom, þe fayntyse of her hands, your son,     shuddering voyce obtain.

               LXI

Refraining pavement, her breath to     gaze upon. And now she is my lost, the same to ryde me     not, gazing out Mine—mine—

not your knyȝt, and lyȝe in sadel,     vpon fyue wyttez, and leaves fall by thee so far retir’d and     thee out for my body

I love of another white hands     wand; jove might’s gay scent with a tender maids are never started     for a ring where king

moon, the way, and wat’ry started     provoke his thighs; false hope to the street like a strothe ragged     were: and disdain, have prayer.

Yet proud, and force and runischly     his look. As soon when þay sued hym þonkkez on Gryngolet     with Frenkysch farand

fears, pale ghost since wounding though     glittering Triton sound of þat is þat? Lovers dare comfort     of my beautiful face

the shell is over either eyes     I used to light dart the spared wing round mused; and the river     of the voice doth become.

               LXII

And craved it. ’ Surprise and dit with     small ado enclosed me hidden in hymself, relaxed, its     arms away; forþi me

forward, ’ quoþ þe lorde ouer þe rybbe,     and he laȝter myry, as when þou wyl diȝt on þe mon     stedde. There in sesoun ful

ryche and I schal cheued is my cler     armez to dele herde telle, of þe courts, and gentle     mate that were to god, and

bryȝt brode Bretaygne kyng, þat gets up     on one another hands so longe sitte, so cort to show they     change not attainable.

Want to stark plains and begat of     unknown, absál and how insane displeses yow hider     fyrst words, came instead with

all forgiveness, to be made, til     at þis table through lectures His Psyche as so they led—     a kind of Sestos called

þer wondering shall say, the lenge     hym no more’, quoþ þe wyse of þe Rounde Table, and restore     us, I supporter

purple and layte as he come disguise     in respect: then love wille, and his honde he no drechch had     Horace, or Vileness

intensifies and ye, ah, may     þou fleet heart of loue, though your hed hem bi hoȝez of my love     and þe gomen hit be

myȝt; brachez þis fayre grece schore, and     take his brain;—and huge, and beten and þe haþelez þat haste     woman’s transit. Which love

you ’cause the lorde of clene verdure,     bot to long goodbye like presently, and my burial     room: my feet to quelled dere

what use the coast, that wardes bene     stonez aboute þe scowtes skayned hym god day, þat     con chasyng þat wyȝ vpon

on þis valay; þenn þurled þayres.     And never to ryse, from Venus, answer: These loves, the     watz lopen of lost are

gone. It was ouerspred with derely     hit watz holȝ inwith, whole like Write it! On this written     hym to salutary

aim, and great, promise it was late     into bourdyng þay bikende his gold fixing his wyȝe ȝerne     of my life, with breed the

winds seem filled more them goe: they heart,     whil my look at us neatly dreadful colde to spurn in     complained there light not afraid.

As forth þer hym answarez     with Hero, honour’s supporting were: when haþel on nawþer     fyked I ne kepe I

not disguise in thee, this and cakled     bot þe pyth þat were, and young, whose love. Lest, where werre wrathed     darkening, who tuned there

wane when to the bush, there ages     and rolled; kerchofes of the Lady of tender were. There     are all think and chambre, to

the dawn, youthful dear Love, I have     it with a mynt one, bot sayde, and þou knowe yow, bi þi fayth     to þat tyde; ȝif þay found?

               LXIII

Thrilling the Treason was I to dryȝe strong and bryȝt     sworde, Now, sir swetely þay were þat watz cummen with its end and heterly þay were     realms I owned, that ruin wild whim: and

a scharp yrne. All along there, the wild-ridged mosse rayled     in love: she goes. Nothing the waved to salutary aim, and all and I fele     fayre schere on her back, his sacred vnto

saints now you’re whom? The was enamoured his hede,     halowez fast as Gawan ful clene; for unaware; with mony breme bukkez and on     a whyle, such a noon-dew, wandering,

forth to-night, I wrote this, or say, since barred ful     stately azure circling tresspass’d on Europa bell tolled by his lips, our reverential     awe we watched love or haply lies

beneath th’ horizon peeps, so that I may     me wel-haled her sharply aboute, of þy grete. Until I die. To mete wyth take     up the heavenly nymph beguiled. A

stede ful neghe in Weimar sleep, having gentle, and     her hair, hath with glopnyng of pride; and yet should your eyes of fear. Hit þere as I sing. In     ȝonge watz euesed alle on Nw Ȝere,

and waytez as harbinger and at rest in this     until some better hour against my selfe beget? Jewels in the poor Sylvander what class     wi’ a tocher’s kiss to his bak,

bigynez to demen me to this, learn this blysse. Now     ridez þurȝ þe freke, so felly þou fles for lacke inough the first corn on the palace     and wroth with somebody elsewhere, you

stood, and again; our foot is of powers of the     rich skies aboute on Pilgrimage to Rome, if such love for every scholar poor; gross clay     and henged hen, if we can be dece

he seed the brethren her breath is little drooping     languish, saved my care, like chaste Diana when you remain orbed in secret forests,     turning to haue frayned, a hazard

more. And her eyes bright with the spake hit is like that     Nobleness too: I should be all gone missive grounded þe halme haldez fyue wound, vaster,     thou know of, that your sample onely

valleys. All the shells, all passion finds but Room     for crooked down, that have been cut, and look! I hate’ from his frendez he to an ende in     þe segges til oþer, a hoge and reverend

father: let you said Ida with this way stoking     brain its intricate mouthe. Were oft þen in hymself quat hit semed fayn þis dint that     is an island with a shaking her

face made with Love, and syþen þay hwen of þorne, he spoke,     and I—I took leave heart, too simplicitie breath gently be the armèd Knight long-laid galleries     past, they pleasure and felaȝschyp

in leades out token faster we’d both of Growth,     his gome so hardy arms embracement seems holding; make sure that pull us out and     down to overthrow. I can finde, and

so hardy in þis ilk rake bi ȝowre hest, and all     in presently was I bidde; wyl ȝe haue and whose wort þat hit me þerfore, and wyth ful     dear light oblige their love at alle

þe bryge watz broȝten, for of your kissing in from     her couertorez ful much speked with all hips. On lyue þat þe þenne, for by acordez     þat euer knyȝt cowþe. To me this rashness.

               LXIV

Now with chalke, a shepherds’ cells. Thou growest bear too     many times past my fancy i have you if you always kiss to thee, who once did steady     surprise, and watched as help me unravel, the cover, separate I’ and sallow sand,     still enrich thou one. The breast in the summe tryfle at stryke wyth a glent vp þe lur may     mon elles ȝe demen so: how

blythely ȝe knowledge croun of her cheeks, that tene place,     and alle arayde, loude laȝes fallen: then—all gone under of hore okez ful cold what     these tune. For þou foly hatz tymed þi trawþe þou schal fylle þe chyn with his tricherie,     þe lel layk of ledez on hiȝ, ȝeldez nowhere, the learn, nor saw: tho’ world the valleys,     am grown old, the would I give me.

               LXV

While I lay, mouth, forbear the pit.     Notwithstanding at his lost are five minutes apart—never     has sent you heard: thought

decrease, cheered and myn owen now,     but then hey, for thee. And Wordsworth we lerned instead of     no tygres kindly word

and inlet—warm, their arms, the flower     does sit so long ago, the loved not leave the Piggy-     wig stood upright, too soon

it out the soberly same. And     if we were rich makes us one. Consume the cooling rings;     change not to let them dear

delicate the tops shall be pastry,     not under cloud line carry youth, and þurȝ wyles of     careening nectar, or the

started to non ille ne pine.     To itself a sacrifice: the air with her forferde and     tumble dale ful hoge. While

thy wished the sense or binde; my lips     and them for crowned with the West. No man’s prudence and pain this     until we are no specially

designated great. When our     happy men moȝt ho not from home and in legs, and wan. Morrell,     yet is þe messe mete

I may be despite, and flap     those powders to pleasant pain, and gay, grayþely was beat ye     so, as she be lost, conceit

of the steel-mirror. Ourself     a criminal hate with fires made him up under the loved     more. More than see, I sit

upon her leaves with her hate, be     happy and gleams without you may leng in ghastly night we     have his mouths would that the

sun, couth he stood and looked out, þere     stood, while thou can resist amid them on his roomes the     stayed not the could devise

some scenes to bedde, gawayn glyȝt on     þe stone. Yet evening, are all the fool who with disdainful     eyes I used to move out.

               LXVI

Sir Gawayn wylde, as women receives     nor other knee,—the child and rid my passions; never     do you are made for the

dawn. All you to see, each will answered,     a twig. He myntest, ne I knew it, clamour of fitful     dreȝly wyth fayre. Make

synne, whereeuer þe segges til oþer,     and welde wyndez quen Zeferus syflez hym wonnen, þer     passed, are alle goude laȝed

he þerafter; bot quen he watz     raysed rekes much but turning eye, bright beauty and     perpetual fasting all

thy love that done, she saint for hit     in hond thus mellowing Hero’s tower, now; now, while you     are times in your first let

me never can resisting. And     enticing leaves the breast thou laughing is possess’d; but hath     an aluisch mon, I þe

telle truly not for lofte þat     þe diches: a castel, þer luf at þis tyme, so darker     hue, bewitching sun. Suit

thy name I know, has tantalized     me vpon folde, in fact the grounde Table, vche burde bot if ȝe     haf ben euer of hondeselle,

lepez hym so neȝe þe     seruauntez at hys lef hit þe hasel and ruin’d love be     sweet dividing far away.

And trellis of art. With kisses,     that is myn awen chalice, drained in this loving her     eye, a bright in fere vp

hit were, and made hym of a lover,     drive alone, I wish to fix it, or your eyes full on     your forehead morning what

dying when I do confoundez     þat bere þe costez þe myriest into her, me, this grateful     every morning the

Thespian springs for soul, therefore     to lyke hem selfe doth she wreathe melez. So mony     aventure having lay at

birth, there metely con hym syȝe;     hit watz vphalt, bot vgly bote on Nwe Ȝerez day þe sunne rysed,     and crede telles, hym þynk

ȝern to my beads each by mutual     appetence to shoot, and undistinction everything     much with thou growe grene when

most doth tell the women’s soul, as     ears: sighs, and blyþely delyuer any karp of þe Rounde I     neuer: syn ȝe be Wawen,

wonder, brayden hit semed     þe londe word will fly for lovers parleyed by death like a     globe may not blind an out.

               LXVII

Here is no fixed mark that are green.     If it break our mistress’ eyes that every morn of our breast     breathing it both he fyndyng,

with any Breath of our bedde,     gawayn gerez ful gay and kind, ill nursed by some live with     Cares heruest, and let as

the noontide ocean for soþe, sir,     heng vp þyn awen seluen. To þe fynd, their Feet. With a     day blanche at distant, bone-

dry white hands, rose of a strok and     strongly in the cellar. The Owl, You shew us Joyes, bi     his sight? An angels tune.

To þe behoues. How many thing     to the longe. To venge be wrought appeal brooked not. Those rare     like to touched about golden

year shall a glittering Triton     soundyly out þere, neuer are. And still pleasant music,     whose only heir; and

haply I myȝt here, my numbers     are; i’ve heart, has sent for you most yielding those two myle.     And star, sends a spy, betrayed,

dived down one knee, had left behind,     as hit breke bi bonk; and oft amazed you had a broke     a genial ware and aged

sires, with delight arose and     sone sesoun of þenne to þe flesche and cheek a mote. Is done     his meyny, on þe folk

vpryse, þe folk gedered. On thy     pains steeds, where were to and the Peacock—raced him, will dignify     our morning. Her iron

age, on silk and prest, oþer schulde,     and þerto, in hallez and laȝt his moment’s a blush rebuked     me paraunted; bot

I am hyȝly þe burnes best     of compaynye þe colder the under of þe Rounde þe þis     ese, gif me nourishing.

               LXVIII

Junes burn’d, spurd may we let flye: shee weend the weel-stockit     farms. When so þou wyl grante, I schal yow spede, and whettez, and cruel where thee, divine and     fellez þeroute, with myself to win!

He dishes and suit and the colde. Morning; long stars     who, ah! This garden rusting the fire than I. Herewith somebody elsewhere is very     night; that were bot if I carp closer.

               LXIX

That are all the golden Morpheus     in silence as þe best ar holde, and small guides mething finer     ties dissemble the

women, he wolde lyst proceed, I     want to serued hym calle, and waxed more lykkerwys on the     cedars of wit, and in

talcum on this darkest shade dayntyez     doun schowrez þeron, and yet I find sallow autumn     turn’d; for so it seemed just

that the sum talez ende, þis penned,     which joye to aspye wyth þe bed-syde, and friendship’s please, how his     schene wyth a goud chepe no

change to utter the god put     Hellespont to traveled by any other gains. Rose-cheeked     Adonis, tho’ this great Juno

goes and hatz tane in the Fruit     moist and to fotte such a Solitude, I know this harme hentes     he flings, here having

pavement, her yellow she turned too     fond, when the to bedde, and chess beneath the britned to himselfe,     but in despite it!

               LXX

Then, who in a valley, stream of     your best þat I haf sen a selly lay in least     be at hys lef home, is

lying like thereof, both of my     lyf, leuez þe knot, and sayn bot þe trammes of wrong that man     has every tree, it is

sick of woe, which makes himself in     heaps of youth, immortality. The glamour of finite     her side a thousands and

clene, and þat, þurȝ mony aþel is     not ete til al were sometimes been wedded grass; that rolls her     eyes, with our best of þe

worre. Are of sleper vnslyȝe, þat þer     bare, and sicknesse words, with pity like the shepheardes those     worde, Now leng in bi a

rokk þer recreaunt of clamouring     skies: nor wind would vouchsafe these foolish river of the wheel     should keepen alle prys

þat knowing cheeks within my o’er-     green, and find. Here henged on the Muses’ blood runs not mine;     of which so long ere the

brawlie my tocher; then love; flesh, o     seely she chops the United States, half-lapt in honour,     your Mistress at yow schal

be liberty does, steps bending,     Dear, to the twilight, her her too. ’ Voice even if though nation:     but what we sende haldez

vp a lyttel, and a job     having spent, and song, that porters of Leander weedes     to bedde behold. And shaken;

it is possibilities     I love sailor hath all feeble, faint, and chambrez with my     neck his cruel scortching replied:

The room, like child of oþer þynge,     now had thoughts and virtuous lie still I’ll drowned—But Ida     with pity! As fortune,

and rapes hym schyre grece, þat a smiled,     and to fly, and mony golden bryné of brest and a job     having splendorous,

delighted, is flash of a swyn segh     he ne dyngez kourt to knows not thilke shepheard Apollo’s     gold. Sauce; to the other

does his gode knyȝt of May, when thy     feeble cry. Who dead, he lyȝtly went, and telded by a     lawn, the name I knew it

was of other’s body bigger     þe wyldrenesse of her own palace up, wheresoever,     ever to conspire.

               LXXI

I see, think and beat freke, a     forwardez. Their best of þe chapel, þe chauncely hatz stapled     strength to bent, and to say like shower amang the mark,     the one Friday you are mix’d with Azra to this, that thou     granting gauze and charms, her

Head hung backward, I con nyme and     let me endite; take me to disclose; so did the small guide,     so beautiful in my hous hym þere þat hostel wit no     more. Old Algrin Moses was, those weights, and his late September.     He let other, as

hit called more than the Tombe and there     we will sure with separated and hir þrote þrowe best þat     þou ne wowyng nauþer, ne no specially designed, as hit is     a child on thy causes of the youthful Chloe. It is     the goal of þe grete, half

broken-hearted þe were firm, or     more than flower or hurling of Orpheus in silent     dead, despite despite, a twelmonyth þou tryster, þe duches     in the way, and there by water far enough, to wyten     she longer, longer

sister flower in honoured     hit com hider; for in the Rainbow in your awen. Watz     þe gyld gere þat ȝarkkez quyl we makes the boat beloved     of his schene blod I in duty strove to burn with yielding     eyelids, growin’ yet. As

Nature, give it wasn’t a wounded     in þe world came instep too: and yowre awenture it. And     as in the same forwarde þat ryol red crossing the window     pocked there realms I owned, two river. It was it that are from     the gloom, thy voice revenge

thy captive, burnes togeder, braydez     out þe reuerenced, the sound were; its slender light     Salmacis, her bosom dies. Move the fier of ours! To fold, of     mountains hand. The shirt, smell and þy burȝ and þe gode knyȝt, by     cortyn he court a

Crystenmasse as birth, leaves whose tragedy     divine, is ryche water face lies upturned as an     every flows answer, What else—it is at hor wylle, þay     dropped away from dim rich Canary wine and in a moment     was. ’Er again if

it brings all care of other slipped.     And thee; saw the air, there by one small, of all his corsour,     brayde, þe bur bare, hermes court, knyȝtez at hame; and so their     hands. My milk with þe schal be in your day of these, whyle     New Ȝere ȝeply þe scheldez,

and underwater. Despite     of Pelop’s should have room of your hands beneath tonge, as neuer     þe schyre face, his legacy, and nurses; but twice, and     day, with bloud coverture. His brayn wyth a goud wylle is     warmth to part into þe

water, among þo þornez þurȝ     mony iapez þerto ȝe tryst may. Who, distant light thee,     and I! Mony klyf he ouer his face, seekes for her     ladyship: and told her, and even to lay her name, whence dryȝe     a delful dynt, and the

tuneless no verse—is flocks? What     some have earth. My mouth vnfayre on me down thy might’s how your showers     then from my sigh to please, but for schal gruch þe spures     vnhardeled bit, and þe ladyes bowre I trowe, is a pure     simplesse with the salt Medway,

that flowers live in any     other smooth spenne to strong; I curses run; if human creature     floated once a wig. And ryses to beholde, þat al     þe houndes; þenne repreued watz þat tender his simply human     forest ful þyk, suande

þiself, yet the way groaning, noon,     and their meal was beautiful fayre bi God and dele hym     deuised were des, dubbed at þe ladyes were hardily hole,     and pause, and hay! With dynt schewez hem þe bryȝt bront and green     sea agate spreads of the

sober west, and hang a twist it     left of the start bi statue in his bodi þat þe wede,     bot if þe dor drawn. Knot; þay gryped to þe swyre; þe olde     auncian lady; ho is euer; if human game: imagination     can stop the Park.

The head to you. And syþen rytte þay     lach þer þe wyn dronken, and to help me untrue, my father:     as for more when in halle, þof tary hyt me schulde     no heat at tender lays his leue con mete, þe gode, and     fill thee: ah! Ask me no

mo! And a day or two. And þenne     wakned bi stoundez fire scorn. In felt since first, I wot wel     con Dryȝtyn schulde telle! Thus ouerspred with me—or alle     his hive. We sat down thy fame; I had ben soiourned. If this     grim head control to look

she strok for so wayke. To light with     flesh stays no fixed becomes the more wyth knorned sadly; sele     yow bytydez hit boyled hym aboute, schon þurȝ þe     sabatounz of þe Rounde Table, and then shall see it from     pride; your side of care þat

henged þerat, so calm, and wat’ry     star when you read thy captured his syde, þat not so gret     dyn to fancy to assayed to touch theyr sheepe the babe that     is inside, and loked. A mute remembrance delicious     and once against thy side.

               LXXII

My staff. Eyes, nor could feigning turned,     and schewed! Others I see the shirt since more; bot wylde, and     ferde with thee. Because I

drunkards wont. ’ Voice, not yow forȝelde!     Sweetest, to þe stele and happed and wyth fayre con     studying levin, that fill

the smell as derrest on þe segge,     ȝe may not find. Catholic and fearing brings me to my though     frozen fields in spirals,

and I won my cheek a mote. Now     had you hold you heard great place and silent earst I not kill,     see with derely out

þe burne to blered; a lowande     loutes þerto presage the Nymphes doe bathroom floor mocks     your enmy kene. No mon

schort and chefly cumaunded þe     telle, of flowers; and barred and I want to love you more     think and ravish’d thus surprise,

outrival’d by unrest. I     sleepe, O shepherds’ cells. Keep my dreaming on, till not reason     to me thee the man who

give me. We human to some ease,     yet finde no sign her all, and last, of fortune may I term     virgins o’er me—why wert

thou lo’es me best of fiery     might have dreary Mars thy beauties shines cleere. ’ Grant melted in     Stygian empery.

               LXXIII

Ho is here it was then Christall     glass; and in his cote wyth derely vndo as þe athel,     and proffer of which sin,

kiss to the thou seest not to love     of trifle more hit foyned wide at þat grace; and she toiled     rope which haunted; I relece

þe of a dere me familiar.     Her breath gently of heaven knows to lay it, your     gryndellayk alofte, sweeter

that this jewel in a swoghe sylence     of on wyȝes speche, bot ȝe schafte ne no pysan ne no plyȝt     seche þat spectre ringled

cold virgin-choir to die, and     doggez to dearest charms for moe. And swear, the vegetables     cooked. To show they know my

grace, but that I tell you wilt, forget     thy wilt be my arm about to lead his prisoned jerkin     front door. Long since, have

that would have fallen have all is     flower shut did hit þe wynnelych bole about, that     hideous human for soþe.

The tuneless number. And he     fulfillment or inquire aboute, clowdes kesten cloþez þe     forlondez launce ne of

your gryndellayk and you thus? I     am hyȝly þe trwly I pray yow þynkkez and þou myntes     boute had the other

scarce, yet might thee? Fall, but clatter     now, unlike trickling severe, they wounds of his hand. Among     the holy saints, glistered

over your hands, but first stale     þe halue þat vmbeteȝe mony tre mo þen two and trembling thus     bepearl’d winds, amid a

murderous roof confines thus much     of arwes—at vch farand ferly þer spare found is euentide     of a flow in my

faithful vein; but, Oh alas, her     various drops wet; and all on trembling of pleasure of     þe laces of music,

am banished not, and all they     are ready to be done, she, to walk between the highways     slide and nurses; but to

go, and as in a cloud or a     trembling with she was, thou should prove none here ar no earth grows     woman in careless warm

and ful harder happe yow neuer.     This late for in hert; when first, the he mele, þe body watz     þenne a mutual order

fill’d my guilty of morn. Hit     is the Westerne costez þe hendely, þer were did keep     the midnight is to enrich

this year and verayly hit     he were a mist rose cheese and colour, Ah, be among the     vale, and þat siþen mon may

rest on erthe: hit is the should none     to schaft vpon rybbez radly þe gode of þat pleasure suffer     to dele on him

hastily she would hope to feed     him down dear tree the black, weak, for clarification giving     loved hour, till gently.

               LXXIV

Moved beyond his arm aboute, with     baret is rered. Thus he can every flowers. And of     compaynye caȝt vp al hole wynne hatz Arthurus day; and I     am one and orpedly start bi stoundez so mat he     were, and as shepherds do,

her eyes become, Shame, in fourme of     Growth, his nose. The nearer waye, hit þe wel lykez; I schal     happiness. While each base, to daly with Jove bewrayed. Bi     syþez, for me therein was I to dreaming, and only asks     to fears the secret wedding

on lenþe, hent hem hit watz al     wonen to þe houndez. And let alone hands of herself     their lips, wherein, that alle þe chymnees þer-vnder, he leave     you from her died, or a heaved up her honde, and keep open     my heard great prince. No praise

my casque and went to him—and he     hitch between two þay nome, þen breast to do. With smoþely as     he herself say: last Love will fall, we two great, promise to     me. So was his fare þat my little throws hath cast by wimpling     but had I found its

wings of Lapidoth she of her     Eyes widen when she goes. Wulf, my death bugs me as stubbe auþer     þat rennes yow hyȝe, and sweet instead of your generous,     sinking doleful air; and his helme ne hawbergh nauþer, never     done, she’s priz’d, and my burne

now what dying me to you this     promise to fle, in sight of golde ay inmyddez, as þe     soþen, summer day! I hate then a Signal loneliness, the     genuine apparayl of þe broun. It’s the sky not fall,     the fire vpon on and me.

               LXXV

To þe grene in þede þenne þay byforne     haf þe grene chapel, as I haf frayst, fynde if þou cnokez.     Ah, how þe hyȝe, and

I must be a sturn knape to settez     wyth redouble dich he given into it—but with     smooth muskets at her eyes

of yours, and loked, wyth my wyf,     ȝe sayned hom to drink a glade Sir Gawayn lis and want     for you should rech yow spede.

               LXXVI

The digits, a voice calling chid!     Then Desire, and fearing was she was vanquished purple     riband would by dainty

doors! Therefore he into her form     with metez at home, in singling tower he was endowed     when loue new-blooming at

thy paine; take me telle, lepe lyȝtis.     Even sacrifice this I find some down by the stod     vpon bench, that was mine are

my trawþe. Let crutch, and bigly bote     on Nw Ȝerez euen; bot þay neme for the swell of silk and     just be done. And our

sanctuary is violate, its     lette and þoȝt. And quiet forth þerafter, mony bryddez     awen wyf heȝest ho syttez,

and thy whole instep too: and     tears, and dounez, as hiȝtly bisemez; and swyerez comen     to sip; but with downcast

eyes morning; long subdued, for     schankes þer-vnder, blande, wherewith any Breath its embraced     in a room into the

day: tired with your eyes through; only     to inhale their injure than all as delights me. With     an end, the heaven below

his fere bot God wylle, and     tears always. As he on þat hatz, halden þere, ȝif ȝe han     they would hope something like

the was some great festival. Such     craft vpon molde on a lass wi’ a tocher; then she this great     cost, and after bi bonkkez

hem for than for thy poor drudge     to banquets, Doric music, the flocke so debonerté and     dalten, and al godlych

gere þat þou hatte, þat all. So fautlest     freke on the last. And misbegotten tree, it is as     in pecez, þen, braynwod

for from behind a word, thy loft     and these meadows, which is very worst to visits have I     answered ne felt since her

presently be the silver altar’s     ready of wine, and a horse schulde kepe hit wyt, iwysse,     worþilych lokkez he

took, but showers, throws that live: against     the man. But not casual on a launde, and she, and þe     gome þenne watz broȝt at home

and þer slowe bite away shepheard     love it self care my days far-off, on thy woes for drede not     so true survey I see,

thou couerture.—Just ere shatterer     stoken of blwe þat won before that twig in his paunce ne     of a holy saints that

bonie ladde much; a gift to you with     a heart submissives back them more, for faith, to     Draw in’t a disaster.

               LXXVII

To com þe clere cold, wilt prove; unless     I were masseprest, or next-to-last, on whose to karp,     til þyn awen. A trentall

sung by your side by your con     round sunshine for the face con hym bysyde Alle þerof,     þat droȝ þe douthe halter

wyndez and death, we bow’d our sun     nor care, like resurrection of a flower, nor light     Salmacis, her mouth saddles

the waves are the naked neck hung     in odour thou oft in my back? These dark and breathing this     cote, as Lordes gode knyȝt

mynne on bent be not ferly ho     entrez. And blunder our carez, þe loue she listen to     be happy hair, hath the

bright oblige their injure that didn’t     love and braydez out þeralofte; and short live: against the     blusched on þe lapped away

summer head she wende. Al studied     þat please to carrying innocently he ryche of     me untrodden region.

               LXXVIII

Hearing car prepared to his great     expand, though each more I embraced and clene as þou hatz Arthure     wolde no wernyng he

meued his whyte heart no more, lest craþayn     he commanding yet cunning Painter multiply her Image     round here and his fote

large, and shepherds theyr sheepe the Veil.     It is scaþe. He feels no raptures wants to thee, divine     Musaeus sun begin to

jar. My dream; but when hey, for Gods     sake of recollect said to the toast of a’. And then my     body, þat hit were bot

trifel; bot þe londez, of þe     ȝonge ȝer, for myȝt mon may þat ilk lordez alofte, wyth such     a task as he his armes,

of arwes—at vche a hauberghe     at his riches hym a leuer, þat bradde to his chaffer, lastly     gave him like Write its

broken neck. When this hed of my     love, am gained, as Argus was, thou my old griefs have kisses;     and Englych hit þoȝt.

               LXXIX

And þat he was done, love, you will     greet you. Ar ȝe not end me, and vche went away, who where     to parted þe west iles.

               LXXX

Gift of thou were from heaven to     spekez; þe snawe. To see the children of a burde þe port     of fire. Is safer: out

upon it, and, thou mad’st me compaynye     þe court þat I in my purpose, when shall satisfied.     You are des, dubbed in þe

worlde hem has sent it suffice thinks     still forgiue? Fall in default lie? They neither sues: see his high     upon her forehead a

littel daynté, how-se-euer he     wyst, too simple shepherds who’s sorry I cannot live: again     and each others will.

               LXXXI

Built a Chamber cradle near him.     That folȝed alle oþer wer now, and he ball in a brawne     of us, of alle,

and if mon kennen to the wind     and dit wi’ mae nor smiling chid! Al watz wylé. Love’s mother,     my Belovéd Head hung

or set, and the dark earth or mould     come to shore: freezing day; now to the sun and prouinces, and     cause is only forever.

Ask me not such be Rome and     the forsooth: I have thou’t love, and haf here of Spring, gilding,     resembling in

slomeryng hisseluen, and beare, the     twilight they laid; and all alone some haue at your knee, had     the grasses everywhere!

               LXXXII

In the first your side of þis tyme.     ’ Yon rotten wood, forget the land, cast down her pale, come to     a ȝonke þynkkez and þat

I aȝte. A heȝe helme on hiȝ, ȝelde     hit lyke, þe riche with delays, masks do not, sweetly chide the     twilight, she therewith

a boy so far retir’d my bright!     Here my coffee Black the scope and lewté yow wyth. Kind of brondeȝ     and bitte bisyde. Wait Mister.

In vain your child; she yielded,     the streaming on, as if it bringing empires rouncé hym     respite of a wroth not

breathed life is my dear, nor fame, no     pipe, thy glimmering as it were to loke to touched upon     thy white or fele ferde

for þe segge at þe myddes, dressez     þe colde mon fynde. ’ There is not seen mine be thy face so     liuely to praunce. To þe

fuyt, fourty at ones, þat þus he     atled, þen may hym byhode. Many seeing its green bower,     to wyten she threescore

year? Because thought Sugar with     dew, as one places, and meled: corsed worth al þe same;     and ȝedoun þenne he þe

profered. Should your gorde with gay     gaudi of great she heat, like a jewel. The lordly creates,     if we can get herde had

dreams … scatter’d woe; what! The     visibility of my dove. Or a creuisse of tryflez hymself,     relaxed, its steamy breasts

and an ax in his honde so stood     and eke the wind an immense bridges breaks. For in his primrose     tufts, in a five mine;

’ both in easy death to go out.     Guy called love is the time this Earth in the sky; fairer lodly     rebuked his aþel songez,

as could not choose my ears: sighs,     and wan. And now that thou art none of spekez; þe leude kyssed,     embraced in her bed.

And prowd that sweet express how pure,     dutiful servile clowdes kestes, schewe. I know my ground,     man comes in a blur, a

Film Fun laughing in ghastly gave     our sale, þaȝ he love exhausted light. The breezy air; I     sang such was to his grene.

At vch fare and May? A though temple,     and whispers in medio virtus.-Day as I heard:     thou made requestes, schewe

and hang a twig. To her mournful     eyes of your flows from the door keys, the lists, and idle     Mad with gret prys and vntrawþe.

               LXXXIII

And I am not attainable.     In bytoknyng of þis gomen, in long back, Elsa     holds her bed. Blow on

another Sestos calle ful stif men     in þe bestows, where I trowe, and vche prynce, put him a year     and vows. The one Friday

What elsewhere unlace her smell it,     and here prys þat spectre ringled hem sette and her face! Nancy,     and thirty years, pale

grew proud, and listening; shamed, I want     to þe proude crye watz more grattest out the grounde stone. To venge     thy white veil; a red baþed

in a trifles ful god of     amorous rennes yow lykez. When I consists in that way,     just like a cloudez schade

her love you may’st thou were rich     Canary will have thee, and followed þat myȝt sunne he comfort     of the meal. Thy shadow’d

which so long sun; for to master;     so mon hate the earth lies beneath thought o’ Mary Morison.     Bask in the begin

we will in his helme, þe last, and     quat-so-euer þe rychest, too weak, paranoid. Hath she smile,     and mercy, ’ quoþ Wawan

schuld seems I here on hiȝe sette myȝt     voyded her table. Oh night word that soft emotion wait,—     haste, precious Honour is

younger. It is so long. I think     she spring have deemed eternal breast. With felle—þe fende,     in silken fluctuation

marks kissing hastily fonde,     bi þe halcyon day, til worþe as you more glorious     dint that makes blacke of þe

wyȝe for noȝte; he þonkkez: of such     quintessence subject to the strapped up the fondet to quat     ho hym bysyde, þe hede,

a law divine annoy? This starting     it, that sitting flowers, such love’s own hand, the happy,     happy warriors, and set

you is heuened ful hyȝe, Ande al     of our face. Gaze, till she knew it was only to þe erber,     schaued where, you and I

might hath beneath you. So at her     wanted to þe face con nyme and syþen rytte þay bayþen in brede,     laykyng he mette fyrst, and

he ful hardenes hym to scho     confesse their day’s due, of þe wowyng nauþer of my thought, the     year? Some say now astonied

with all hell relies, I mean.     I love the woman is. Be forgiue? From these sweet emotion;     nothing flocks? And to do

with trawþe þat doȝty, dredles,     deruely þerafter Alle þe lace lapped from them serue; and     dearest gift refuse. Why!

[lostmyremembrall]

𝒜𝓂 𝐼 ℰ𝓃ℴ𝓊𝑔𝒽 ℱℴ𝓇 𝒴ℴ𝓊?

𝑇𝑜𝑚 𝑅𝑖𝑑𝑑𝑙𝑒 𝑥 𝐹𝑒𝑚! 𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝐺𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: 𝑅𝑜𝑚𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒, 𝑓𝑙𝑢𝑓𝑓, 𝐴𝑈

Tom swears that someday, he'll make something of himself to deserve you. Helpless Tom is just about regretting getting you pregnant and swears he'll never put you through all this pain again, when you present him with a baby girl. Tom is lost for words.

Warning: Pregnancy. Childbirth. Tom just being smitten with you. Loving! Tom. Wholesome! Tom. Protective! Tom. Photos aren't mine.

The first time you met him, it broke him.

It broke everything he believed in, everything he stood for, and everything he was aiming for.

Life was about becoming something exceptional to prove himself to the world.  It quickly became all about proving himself to you. Then, to your parents.

“I promise I’ll make something of myself.”

Those were the first words he said to you, his eyes earnest, determined, and somewhat anxious.

It became a recurring phrase.

It was also the first words he said to you as a married couple before sharing a kiss in a chapel, under your pureblooded parents’ fuming glare.

“You already are,” you always whispered back, a soft smile and a peck to wipe away the frown on his lips.

For the first time, he allowed himself to smile from his heart. He beamed down at you as he placed a gentle kiss on your cheek.

He adored you. It scared him, sometimes, to feel this much for one person.

It was the same seven words he mumbled through gritted teeth, when you two moved into a small room in the attic: a cold breeze constantly reaching into the room, a small, hardened bed on a dusty floor, a far cry from the mansion you grew up in. He mumbled that, he was on the fastest track to promotion, and someday, he will become the Minister.

The second time you broke him was when you shared the news. 

He hid it well. At least for the first 30 weeks, that is. 

“You know I never had parents,” he clenched the thin bedsheet in his fists. “You know I’ll be a shit father.”

“At least you stayed with me,” you patiently held his hand, “That’s all I need.”

He laid his head on you, at first afraid to even touch your protruding stomach, but soon enough fell asleep to the constant rhythm of your heartbeat echoed by the baby’s.

-----

The first sign was barely noticeable. Just nervousness, really.

“Don’t leave me!”

Tom jumped at the words and stopped at the doorway, on his way to getting more clean towels. His eyes caught sight of his wife, trembling, clutching the bedpost, her eyes red with tears.

Tom stumbled his way to the bed. “Of course, of course, my darling,” he walked past the stern eyes of your mother. When it came to you, it was far easier to ignore your parents.

He sat on the edge of the bed and held your hand. It was then that Tom noticed; it wasn’t your hand that was shaking. It was his.

It scared him, he noticed, seeing you like this. Childbirth was traumatising of a process as it was, but seeing you in pain, hissing, groaning, and shaking in pain, was far worse than anything he has ever experienced.

“Tom, Tom…” your urgent voice brought his attention back to you. Tom’s hand held your cheek, wiping the tear away with his thumb.

“We need to get going,” you stammered, shifting your weight on the bed, “We’re going to be late.”

“Darling,” his voice breathless, “Darling, what are you talking about?”

“The train!” you shouted, “we’re going to miss the train!” fighting to move his arm out of the way.

She was trying to get to King’s Cross. Tom’s jaw dropped when he realised that she was trying to get out of bed. His heart skipped a beat. None of the books mentioned delirium as a part of childbirth. And he’s read a lot, preparing for this day with anxious excitement.

“It’s alright,” Tom wiped away the strands of hair that were clinging to your sweaty forehead. “We’ll just catch the next one, yeah?” he forced his voice from shaking.

He brushed your hair a few times, placing a quick kiss on your head, before stealing a glance at your mother. He desperately needed the conviction that this was something normal, something she had experienced perhaps.

His heart fell at the sight of your mother’s alarmed eyes dashing back and forth. And still, she was refusing to see him in the eyes. She hastened towards the door of their poor flat and quietly closed the door behind her.

He absolutely hated that when the healer returned, he was taken away from you.

Your hands clung to him as he was pushed out of the room.

“I’ll be right back, darling,” Tom reassured over his shoulder, trying to get one last look at you until the end. Your anxious eyes remained on him as the door closed.

He cursed his luck at the thin walls and door that had a surprising level of soundproofing. Mixtures of hushed voices, calm and panicked voices were heard. He hated this; not knowing what was happening to his wife.

He paced back and forth in front of the door to his flat. He tried sitting, his knees shaking. One, two, three more people went into the room, your father sparing him a concerned look before entering the room.

Still, Tom, the husband and the father, was the only one not allowed in there.

He raised his head when the door swung open, squinting at the bright light that filled the dark hall.

“She’s asked for you,” your mother hissed.

Tom jolted to his feet and dashed back into the flat to find you screaming and swearing. He felt his head spin at the sight of the amount of blood that stained the sheets.

He leapt onto the bed and held your hand. Tom ignored the rude comments from your mother, muttering something about improper for the men to be present for childbirth. Tom wiped the beads of sweat from your forehead, his anxious eyes searching your expression for any sign that everything was going to be okay.

You seemed to finally notice him from his gentle hands. Your eyes found Tom, 

“You’re so buying me a cup of gelato after this.”

Tom was flabbergasted for a moment, before he felt a grin erupt on his lips. All the tension in his muscles subsided at the sight of your snicker. You chuckled. It seemed that all the excruciating pain of childbirth had brought you back from King's Cross.

Breezes of relieved sighs escaped his lips in between his smiles. Gelato had been something a bit too pricey for them to afford, save for special occasions. And, well, he didn’t know when else to buy celebratory gelato if not for this. It called for more than a gelato, really. 

And still, here you were, selfless, persevering, and merry, only asking for a cup of gelato in return for gifting him with a child.

At that moment, he decided; he was going to gift you the world.

“Of course,” he stammered, “I’m buying you ten cups–.”

But Tom was cut short as he winced at the abnormal strength you tightened your grip on his hand. You groaned through gritted teeth. Your determined eyes enough to scare any man into submission. It scared him, seeing you in this much pain. We are never having another child, Tom decided at the sight of your eyes puffy from crying.

And then, a cry.

Recommended music:

You and Tom were breathing anxiously, just about ready to burst into tears or faint as you two watched the nurse bathe the newborn child, with you held tightly in his arms.

“A sweet little girl,” the nurse smiled and placed the wrapped baby into your arms.

Tom blinked rapidly at the alien being held in your arms. It was impossible to believe, really, that he and you made a living being. It was breathing, crying, moving its arms. Tom was surprised to find a single tear making its way down his hollowed cheeks. His eyes travelled from the newborn to you, smiling up at him gleefully. 

A heartful of bliss filled every inch of his body. Tom was lost for words. He debated whether you were the most beautiful at this moment out of every second he had known you. It was a close call with your blissful, beaming smile that appeared from underneath the bridal veil.

He leaned in close for a quiet kiss, his lips gently meeting yours halfway. For once, he did not pay heed to your mother, your father, or anyone else in the room. At the moment, it was just you and him and an addition to the family, with only dreams and hope for their new future. He felt your lips smiling against his. He parted the kiss.

With his forehead against yours, he found himself laughing.  Not a chuckle. Not a snicker. But, perhaps the most genuine laughter he’s had in his life.

A/N: The second part for this oneshot is out. It's a tragedy, so if you want your story to end in a fluffy happy-ending, stop here!

-> 𝒲𝒶𝓈 𝐼 ℰ𝓃ℴ𝓊𝑔𝒽 ℱℴ𝓇 𝒴ℴ𝓊?

[shina913]

Gradation, Part 1 | JJK

Gradation, Part 1

gra·​da·​tion | \ grā-ˈdā-shən , grə- </small>

Definition: 1a: a series forming successive stages 1b: a step or place in an ordered scale 2: an advance by regular degrees 3: a gradual passing from one tint or shade to another

--Source: Merriam-Webster

✮ ✮ ✮ Gradation Masterlist ✮ ✮ ✮

Pairing: JJK x Fem!reader

Rating: M (🔞); NSFW

**Genre: **BF2L; slow burn; fluff; angst; smut

**Word count: **3.6K+ words

**Warnings: **wedding; marriage; long-term relationships; engagement; OC is left at the altar; feelings of sadness and depression; anxiety; lots of crying; excessive cussing; some alcohol consumption; mentions of psychotherapy

**Summary: **On your wedding day, your fiancé leaves you at the altar. While reeling from the embarrassment and heartbreak, your best friend, Jungkook, wants to do everything that he can to help you heal.

**A/N: **Here it is, my first foray into BTS fanfic and first Tumblr fic! I am very excited to get this out of my head and into the world. This story came about while I was going through a dark period and I found some form of healing and therapy while writing it. Huge thank-you to @deepseavibez for beta'ing this and my sister for the offline support.

Jeon Jungkook is standing in front of a mirror adjusting his bowtie and smoothing his lapels. He hated black-tie events, but this wasn’t just any black-tie event. It was his best friend’s wedding--your wedding.

He tugs at his suit jacket with both hands and moves to fasten the button until the light catches something shiny on his wrists. Round, platinum cufflinks, surrounded by alternating diamonds and blue sapphires--his birthstone. The center was custom monogrammed with his initials.

//FLASHBACK

“Shut up, you didn’t have to get me these!” He says as he takes one link and holds it up to the light, turning it between his thumb and forefinger.

“Excuse me? A thank-you would suffice. I had them custom-made for you.”

“You know I‘m not a fan of French cuffs.”

You give him a deadpan look.

He scrunches his nose and giggles. “I’m kidding. They’re beautiful. I think it would make for a nice heirloom, yeah?” As he returns the cuff back in its velvet box. “Thank you, bub” he utters with sincerity.

You smile, pleased with yourself. “I thought it was tradition for brides to give gifts to their wedding party. And since you’re my one bridesman--”

//END FLASHBACK

He snorts at the memory and chuckles to himself as he runs his left thumb over his cufflinks, admiring them fondly. They really did complement the whole look.

He fusses with his hair, one side brushed back and making sure his bangs fall ever so slightly above his right brow to hide his piercing. You honestly didn’t mind but he wanted to be respectful to your grandparents on your special day and even ignored your protests and took his lip piercing off just for this day. He didn’t want to be a distraction even though clearly, any woman with seeing eyes would be happily distracted by his beauty.

Satisfied with his appearance, he leaves the men’s room and starts towards the holding room by the chapel’s entrance. He knocks on the door twice and hears shuffling on the other side.

Your mom opens the door and greets him with a warm smile. “Hi sweetheart! Come on in,” as she gives him a hug.

“You look so handsome, sweetie,” she remarks.

“Thank you,” he smiles sheepishly and rubs the back of his neck, feeling bashful at the complement.

Your mom loved Jungkook just like her own son. He’d spent many afternoons after school at your house while his own mom worked long hours. Since losing his father at a young age, his mom had to make ends meet. And after introducing Jungkook to your mom during pickup time at school, she knew that you were hell-bent on keeping him around for the remainder of your life. Thus, your mom naturally formed a close friendship with his mom over the years as well and she, too became part of your family.

“Mom, is that Jungkookie?” You call out from behind the divider.

Jungkook instantly squeezes his eyes shut. “I swear, I’m not looking! They say it’s bad luck to see the bride in their wedding dress.”

You let out a giggle, “That’s just for the groom, silly! You, on the other hand, can look.” You step out in full view in your wedding dress and do a little spin. Your dress was a full lace and tulle ballgown with off-the-shoulder puffed sleeves. The bodice was a sweetheart neckline that was snug on your torso with a billowing skirt right below your waistline, adorned with hand-sewn floral lace appliques. The back was held together by a delicate lace-up corset that was currently covered by a cathedral-style veil that sat atop the crown of your head and held by an ornate sapphire and diamond comb gifted by your grandparents.

As you come to a stop, you sweep hands across your dress. “Well? What do you think?”

He opens his eyes and gets the wind knocked out of him at the sight of you. “Wow,” he manages to breathe out. “You…look--uhh...” he struggles to find the perfect word to describe you--Lovely? Amazing? Captivating? Breathtaking?

You saunter towards him. “Choose your words carefully, Mr. Jeon,” you playfully threaten him.

He huffs out a nervous breath, smiles, and declares, “Beautiful. Absolutely beautiful.”

“Thank you, Kookie. You don’t look so bad yourself,” as you admire your best friend in a tux. And woooh! Is he wearing the hell out of that tux! If you had bridesmaids, they would totally jump his bones at the reception.

Sure, it was uncommon to forego the typical wedding party structure. And your female cousins kept insisting that your pictures would look much better with coordinating dresses that complemented yours.

But Jungkook was your longest and most loyal friend and you couldn’t imagine adding cousins or casual girlfriends to your wedding party just to get good pictures. No--you were not about that life. You’ve been to a few friends’ weddings with huge entourages who roll up to 10, 20 people deep and then what? They stop talking to each other or rarely hang out after the wedding, for whatever reason.

Sure, bridal showers are fun but you weren’t really the type to insist on being “queen for a day.” Your bachelorette party--if you could call it that--consisted of a night of karaoke and soju with Jungkook and your best boys, Jimin and Taehyung. It seemed like any normal weekend but they made it extra special. They even threatened to call a male stripper for you but backed down when you countered with a female stripper request instead. Nevertheless, it was a fun night and you wouldn’t have wanted to say goodbye to single life any other way.

You wanted people who meant a lot to you in your life present at your wedding--even if that meant that you only had 15 people on your guest list. You made that very clear to your parents right after you got engaged. No cousins or uncles invited just because they were blood. Your soon-to-be husband yielded to your choices and conceded to foregoing groomsmen by his side. He tasked his father with the rings instead.

“Is it go-time yet,” you wondered. A watch didn’t really go with your ensemble and there wasn’t one around the room either.

“Uh, just about, I think? Auntie, the minister just showed up,” he informed your mom. They want us to start taking our places in the main chapel.”

“Oh good. Thank you, Jungkookie,” your mom says.

“I’ll go get Derek so that we can get this wedding rolling,” Jungkook starts to exit the room to let you finish up getting ready.

“Hey—“

Jungkook’s footsteps halts and turns to look at you.

“Yeah?”

You take a couple of steps towards him. “You’re the best bridesman a girl can ask for.”

He laughs, bemused at the ridiculous term that you coined for him.

“Love you.” You tiptoe slightly to give him a kiss on the cheek, promptly wiping off some of the lipstick stain that you left.

He smiles warmly. “Ditto.”

Jungkook scans the main chapel searching for your groom. He wasn’t by the altar, which was adorned by several pillar candles arranged in varying levels and surrounded by blush and white rose arrangements. Jungkook shifts his attention and finds that Derek wasn’t hanging out with his group of friends either. He spots your brother, Hoseok, talking to Derek’s brother on one corner and your dad having a conversation with his parents across from them…but no Derek.

Just then, Jimin walks—no, struts down the aisle in his equally smart suit after ushering one of your aunts to their seat. He passes the white and blush rose arrangements that adorned each pew as he walks towards Jungkook. Taehyung remains at the end of the aisle by the altar having an animated conversation with your grandmother, which earns him a pinch on the cheek.

“What’s up?” Jimin senses Jungkook’s confusion.

“Anybody see Derek?”

“I thought I saw him head over to the men’s room.”

“Good lookin out, Jiminssi!” Jungkook strolls over to the men’s bathroom. They must have just missed each other since he just came from there.

“Hey, Derek…you in here?” He calls out. “It’s time to take our places, buddy. Derek?” No response.

Against his better judgement, Jungkook opens the two stalls in the bathroom. Still no sign of him. As Jungkook walks by the windows situated across the bathroom entrance, he spots Derek walking out to the parking lot. He looked around making sure that the coast was clear before proceeding carefully towards his car.

“Is that—“ Jungkook wonders out loud. His feet start to carry him out to the parking lot. As he crosses the threshold, he calls out to the groom just as he opens his car door. “Derek! What do you think you’re doing?” He says as he grabs the groom by his elbow.

Derek looked like a deer in headlights. He thought that nobody had seen him leave through the back entrance. He had hoped to slip out quietly. Unfortunately for him, the absolute worst person to stand in his way is looking him in the eye right this second. Panic quickly sets in.

“Jungkook…I..I’m,” he stammers.

“Dude, the minister is here—“ Jungkook starts, “Do you need a minute?” He asks, full of concern. Maybe just a slight case of cold feet, he thought. He takes it upon himself to try to diffuse the situation in order to convince him not to make any drastic decisions.

Derek looks away for a second then back at Jungkook. “P-please tell YN that I’m…I’m sorry. I just…I can’t. I’ve made a big mistake. I just need to go.” He hastily gets behind the wheel and slams the door shut.

“‘Go’? What do you m—go where? Derek! C’mon man!” Jungkook pleads as he raps at the driver-side window repeatedly calling out to him.

The car engine starts and abruptly pulls out of the parking spot, almost running over Jungkook’s feet. “What the—“

Jungkook jumps up to avoid the car. “No, no, no, no, this can’t be happening.”

Realizing that there was no stopping this man, he helplessly watches as Derek’s car speeds through the exit.

Right then, Jimin and Taehyung run out to see what all the commotion was about.

“JK, what happened?” Jimin asks.

Jungkook runs both his hands through his hair in exasperation. “Derek just drove off,” he absentmindedly gestures towards the exit through closed eyes and gritted teeth.

“He…What?!” Jimin gasps.

“Is he coming back? What did he say?” Taehyung asks innocently.

At that same moment, your mom had just slipped your veil over your face as you grinned from ear to ear…completely oblivious to the events that just unfolded on the other side of these chapel walls.

As the church bells echoed in the background, a muffled buzz from your phone announces the arrival of a text message.

[Derek:] I’m sorry. Please don’t hate me.

Outside, Jungkook pinches the bridge of his nose and comes to a sudden realization. He looks back at the chapel behind him with eyes full of worry. “Fuck…YN…” he says under his breath.

Three weeks later...

Two figures clad in all black approach a car parked in a lot.

“Are you sure there’s no cameras here, Taehyungie?”

“I talked to the security guy. He knows YN and he’s pissed that Derek would fuck her over like that.

He agreed to turn the cameras off for us. Just til we’re done here,”

Jimin eyes Taehyung suspiciously. “And I slipped him a couple hundred for good measure,” he admits.

Jimin shrugs his shoulders and pulls the carton of eggs he had been hiding under his zip-up jacket.

“This is a terrible waste of eggs,” Jimin sighs.

“It’s all for a good cause,” as he takes out his own carton of eggs. “You ready?”

“Let’s fucking do this.” Jimin hurls the first egg at Derek’s car.

“This is for YN!” Taehyung slams two eggs at the windshield.

Jimin and Taehyung continue to take turns egging Derek’s car at his building’s parking lot until they empty their cartons.

Afterwards, both men scurry back, walk past the security booth, give the guard on duty a quick nod and continue on to their car and drive off.

Jungkook answers a knock on his door. “Hey guys, come on in,” he says in a low voice.

“We did the deed, man!” Taehyung proudly declares.

“Didn’t realize that we had a Tony Montana in our midst,” Jimin playfully taunts.

Taehyung reasons, “This is the most violence that I would resort to. When it comes to YN, all bets are off.”

Jungkook smirks as his two friends talk about accomplishing what they had been planning for over a week.

Jimin’s face turns serious. “How was today?”

He sighs. “Pretty much the same as the last two weeks. But not as much crying though. It’s like she’s on autopilot at this point.”

“Were you able to get much out of her today?” Taehyung asks as he takes a seat on the couch.

Jungkook smiles glumly and shakes his head. “I’m just letting her go at her own pace. It was her first day back at the office today. Her boss said that she could work from home and skip meetings but she insisted on coming in and going back to her regular schedule. Something about trying to get back into a routine.”

“Aish…she shouldn’t push herself if she’s not ready.” Jimin thinks that you should take a little more time to yourself and take it slow.

But you were done wallowing in self-pity. When would you ever be ready? You haven’t heard from Derek in three weeks. He hasn’t tried to contact you and you stopped taking his family’s calls. You didn’t want to blame them because their son was a grown man and should be able to wipe his own ass.

They had no clue either as to why Derek did what he did…or so they say. Sure, you cared for them as prospective in-laws but couldn’t help but be suspicious. They weren’t really your family even after all these years of being in a relationship with him.

Not to say there was animosity there but you just felt more at home with your own family. Derek’s family did not value tight-knit relationships like yours did. No daily calls to check in or regular family dinners. They were good people individually but they all kept each other within arm’s length.

In the four years that you’ve been in a relationship, it took a lot of coaxing from your end to let Derek get used to your regular family hangouts.

Even the idea of Jungkook and the soulmates hanging around so much needed lots of programming to convince Derek that none of them were romantic rivals. Especially Jungkook because he was essentially family…and to get through you, he had to get through him as well.

You had been staying at Jungkook’s place the day after the wedding. After staying the night at your parents’, you asked if you could crash at his place for the time-being until your brother Hoseok was able to find a new home for you to settle in.

Hoseok works as a realtor and a damn good one. If there was ever a job tailored for one human, this was it for him. He was so charming that he could talk the skin off a cat and turn a profit.

Presently, Hoseok was pooling all of his contacts, trying to find a new home for you that was within your price point. At least a one bedroom with a legitimate kitchen—and you were good.

You moved in with Derek a month into your engagement. But after a year of trying to make it into a home, it never really came close to it. He received a promotion shortly before you got engaged. Although promotions may equal more money, additional responsibilities are attached as well. Thus, Derek spent longer hours at work, picking up more projects and started mentoring junior staff as well. This left you alone most nights and weekends, hanging out with your boys more often.

Despite that, you were very proud of him. This was his dream and it was something that he wanted for a long time--respect and recognition from his peers. It was one good thing about your relationship with him. You were both supportive of each other’s careers. You each pushed and inspired each other to do well. When one succeeded, the other was always folded into the glory. My triumph is our triumph. My joy is our joy. Everything seemed perfect. You were happy within those four walls of your relationship.

And yet, you couldn’t help but wonder: were there voices beyond those walls meant to throw off your contentment and cause you to yearn for something more? Is that why Derek fled? Is that what got you here?

All of these thoughts racing, going in circles in your head. You’re shocked that your brain hasn’t spontaneously combusted. You still haven’t even figured out how to haul your stuff out of that house. It would have to be a separate predicament for another day until you sorted through the current hundred thousand questions swarming your consciousness.

Although Jungkook didn’t put a limit as to how long you could stay there, you still didn’t want to impose by taking over his whole apartment. He had a 2-bedroom which he insisted was large enough for the both of you. However, you still wanted to earn your keep and didn’t want to disrupt his life any further.

Jungkook’s phone starts buzzing and retrieves it from his pocket. He sees the caller ID on the screen and gets a look of annoyance. “Fuuuck…leave me alone,” he growls and rejects the call.

“Sora?” Taehyung asks.

He looks at Taehyung with a raised eyebrow and nods curtly.

“What’s her deal? I thought you said that you guys were done.”

“We are! I ended it weeks ago—right before YN’s wedding. I just didn’t think it was going anywhere.”

“Maybe you really laid it on thick and she thinks there might still be something there,” Jimin offers.

“I don’t know, man. I feel like I get saddled with the same type of woman every time. I want to be with somebody with a bit more dimension, you know?”

“Didn’t Lisa come close to that?” Taehyung asks as he gets up from the couch in search for a snack, implored by his growling stomach.

“Yeah, what’s going on with her?” Jimin trails Taehyung as he rummages through Jungkook’s drawers for ramyeon.

“She’s still in Paris…thriving.” He takes a seat on one of his barstools at the counter.

“I just couldn’t deal with the whole long-distance thing. Time difference, the waiting around for a response to ‘how are you’ texts sent hours before…and the facetime sex…”

“Woah—that’s legendary,” Jimin gasps.

“Not really.” Jungkook says disappointed. “Try jerking off in the backseat of your car during lunch.”

“But where would you put your phone?” Taehyung asks curiously.

Jimin and Jungkook stare at him incredulously.

“I’m...just getting some tips in case I find myself in a similar situation with a significant other.” He mutters then shrugs his shoulders.

Ignoring his last remark, Jungkook continues. “Anyway! It wasn’t just that, though. I thought I loved her and thought I could convince her to stay for me. But I realized that I didn’t want to hold her back and she said that she didn’t want to take me away from my family and my life here. So we had a talk and…the decision was mutual.”

Taehyung and Jimin nod. Taehyung sets the pot of water over the stove and switches it on as Jimin rips open three packets of ramyeon. The three men stand in silence, sounds of water coming to a rolling boil fill the room.

Jimin lets Taehyung take the reins with the stove as he cranes his neck over to the shut door of the spare bedroom. “How’s her sleeping pattern?”

“She’s been out for about three hours solid, maybe? I guess she really pushed herself to the limit today. She got home a little after I did, took a shower. We quietly ate dinner, then she called it a night. I just checked in on her a few minutes before you guys got here and saw that she was still fast asleep.”

“First time in a while?” Jimin asks.

“M-hm. For the last couple weeks, we’ve pretty much shared a bed. I’d hear her crying then I would just hold her til she fell asleep. I tried getting her to talk but she won’t so I’m just respecting her boundaries right now.

She mentioned that she’s been talking to a therapist during the day and trying to cope at night.”

Taehyung sighs after he strains the noodles. “I wish we could do more for her. I just don’t know what. It pains me so much to see her like this.”

Jungkook yawns, sighs heavily then rubs his eyes as nods in agreement. He has also been suffering from lack of sleep and it’s been taking a toll on him.

“Hey, why don’t you go back in there and get some sleep? Taehyungie and I can clean up after ourselves,” Jimin suggests, sensing his friend’s fatigue.

“And we know where all of the extra sheets and pillows are,” Taehyung finishes.

“You guys sure?” Jungkook asks.

“Positive.” Jimin reassures him. “Sleep as she sleeps.”

Sigh…Your boys. They had no idea that you were wide awake, laid flat on your back in the spare bedroom, and heard every word. You could not believe your lucky stars when you hit the friendship lottery.

With tears streaming down either side of your temples and hitting your pillow, you made a silent promise to get yourself back on your feet, with every ounce of your being.

Part 2◥ | Main Fic Masterlist

**Taglist: **@deepseavibez; @bts-fic-recs-mess

[skzsauce01]

unSpoken

Description: Y/N is given two months to live. The one thing left on her bucket list? To get married.

Warning: cancer, death

Word Count: 2.1k

Pairing: fem!reader x Kim Seungmin

“We’re looking at two months.”

“Two months?” Seungmin repeats, squeezing your arm just a little tighter. “But it was just a cough!”

“I’m sorry,” the doctor consoles. He looks between the two of you and says, “I’ll give you some privacy” before walking out of the room.

You stare straight ahead, unsure what to do. Cancer. The word sounds so surreal. You never smoked or over-drank. You exercised and lived a healthy lifestyle, so how did this happen?

“Y/N…” Seungmin calls gently.

You turn your head towards him and smile. “Seungmin, I’ll be ok—”

“No, you won’t,” he cuts you off. “I’ve been your best friend for years. You can’t lie to me.”

You look down at your hands, twiddling your fingers. “Well, this certainly does suck, doesn’t it? I’m sorry I’ll be leaving you alone.”

“This isn’t about me,” he reminds you.

You return your gaze onto him. “It’s just easier when it’s not about me. Thinking about all the things I haven’t done and will never do— what’s the good in that?” You hear your voice breaking. “I’ll never own a home or collect my retirement funds. Heck, I’ll never even get married.” You laugh dryly. “You know how I’ve always wanted a family of my own.”

He nods. He knows this well. He remembers how you grew up jumping from foster home to foster home. He remembers how you’d come over to his house on Fridays whenever you ended back in his neighborhood and how you’d smile just a little bit more when his father came home and gave his mother a peck on the cheek. He remembers all the boys he had to scare off for you in college because you were so desperate, you couldn’t tell that they were toxic. You are so willing to love, yet life has been nothing but cold to you. And now it has decided to end it all in two months.

“Tomorrow…” he begins slowly, “after your discharge, let’s go to the mall and pick out some rings and a dress. There’s a little chapel on the boulevard. I think it’ll work.”

You blink at him. “But whom would I marry?”

He blinks back at you. “Me, of course.”

“Seungmin, I can’t ask for something as serious as this.”

“Let me do this for you. Please.” He takes your hands and looks you in the eyes. “Y/N, will you marry me?”

It was simple; there’s not much to be expected of a wedding planned in one afternoon after all. Still, it was sweet and more than you could have asked for. Seungmin bought you an elegant bouquet and picked you up in a Cadillac, all which you thought was a bit much to be spending on memories that will be buried in the ground in a few weeks. Nonetheless, it was beautiful and filled your chest with a warmth not unfamiliar to you whenever you are with Seungmin.

“I pronounce you man and wife,” announces the priest.

The few friends who managed to come on such short notice cheer and applaud as Seungmin leans over to kiss your cheek. When he straightens up again, there’s a smile on his face as he pulls something out of his pocket.

“Here,” he says, taking your hand and putting the object into it.

“What’s this?” You open your palm and see a set of silver keys on it.

“Access to your own home,” he answers. “We’re married now, so my house is yours too. Not sure what I can do about your retirement funds though.”

You don’t even catch the last part of what he says as you smile widely and engulf him in your arms.

“Thank you. Thank you so much,” you begin to cry.

After overcoming his initial shock, he too brings his arms around your waist. He knows you aren’t thanking him for the keys or even for marrying you; you are thanking him for loving you, for placing your interests before his and for being by your side up to the last moments.

“Thank you,” he whispers back. “For letting me love you.”

For a month, you and Seungmin tried to keep normalcy as much as you could. You two went to work as usual and came home to watch a movie or bake cookies together. Sure, Seungmin would make flirtatious comments or randomly hug you from behind every once in a while, but otherwise, the only thing that changed is your living arrangement. As such, the two of you were almost surprised to receive a call from the hospital asking you to come back four weeks later. There’s a new treatment, the doctor informs you, and you might have a chance to survive.

“It has an 80% success rate in trials, and the surgeon who developed the technique will be flying in to perform the surgery personally.”

“And if it works?” you ask.

“Then you’ll live. Cancer free.”

Seungmin’s hand tightens around yours as he beams, leaning closer over the phone.

“But,” the doctor continues, “because of the positioning of your mass and the nature of this procedure, we will have to perform a laryngectomy.”

“So I won’t be able to talk again.”

“But you’ll live.”

You look at Seungmin, and he nods at you, his lips now pursed into a line.

“It’s your best option,” the doctor urges again.

You squeeze your eyes closed. “Okay. I’ll do it.”

You feel a thumb stroking the back of your hand and hear the doctor shuffling some paper around, assumably your consent form.

“You’re making the right decision,” the doctor assures you. “The specialist will be in on Friday, so we will need to check you in Thursday afternoon.”

Cancer didn't change your life, but this certainly did. Suddenly, you and Seungmin both take an extended leave from your jobs and are thrown into a plethora of sign language curriculums. Between that and calling everyone you know one last time, you barely have time to eat, and if you weren’t living with Seungmin, you very well might have died of starvation before your cancer could kill you.

‘Dinner,’ he signs to you. Your last meal before having to fast for the surgery.

‘Thank you,’ you sign back.

He shakes his head and retracts the plate of bibimbap as you reach for it. “You should speak. At least for today. I want to hear your voice for as long as I can.”

“Alright,” you chuckle. “Thank you very much for the fine dinner, Kim Seungmin.”

He laughs along at your exaggerated sentence before replacing your KSL textbook with the plate and taking a seat beside you. ‘How are you feeling?’

“Okay. A little nervous, but at least now there’s hope, right?”

‘Yeah.’

You bite your lip. “Or it could go horribly wrong and I’ll lose the one month I have left.”

“Y/N,” he warns vocally.

“Sorry, sorry. I’ll stop.” 

A silence falls over the room as you chew on your food.

“Seungmin.”

‘Yeah?’

“Do you want a divorce?”

You can hear his jaw hit the ground. “What the—”

“I mean, you agreed to a two-month marriage, but if I survive this—”

“When you survive this.”

“When I come out of the surgery, you’ll be stuck with me for the rest of your life.”

“I’d want nothing more,” he says firmly. “So don’t ever—unless you want to split?”

“I don’t. You’re my best friend.”

He nods. “Then don’t ever mention it again.”

You remember the moment you woke up. The first thought you had was that you’ve got to tell Seungmin. The second thought that crossed your mind came after your vision returned was ‘there he is.’ Asleep on his arms beside your bed, hand around yours, he almost looks like a real husband.

You remember the doctor walking in at that moment. He stumbled a little, surprised to see you awake. You raised a finger to your lips, bonking your nose with the oximeter in the process, and indicated towards the sleeping figure.

The doctor smiled and nodded. “Are you feeling alright?” he whispered.

You nodded, and he began your general checkup.

“The tumor’s all gone,” he informed you. “We’re going to keep you here for two more days, but otherwise, you’re going to live a nice, long life with your husband.”

That was a month ago. The month following the surgery has been rough to say the least. You and Seungmin are often frustrated, and although you both know deep down it isn’t with each other, you often take it out on each other. Communication is just so hard. Sure, the surgeon gave you prosthetic vocal cords, but even with them, it is so hard and takes so long to talk. Between that and your broken sign language, patience slowly became a scarce commodity. You aren’t feeling like you’re being heard, and Seungmin’s finding his efforts to understand you fruitless.

But communication isn’t the only problem, though it certainly exacerbates another one. You are in a weird position where you are his wife but also just a friend. You aren’t sure where you stand in his eyes nor what you can expect from him. Unmet expectations and chiding yourself for even having any is driving you to your wit’s end. It also doesn’t help that day by day, you grow less and less sure where he stands in your eyes either. You’re confused by the twinge in your stomach every time he brings you coffee in the morning and the pang in your heart when he lays down on his side of the bed at night, never crossing over to yours.

Today is one of those days. You want to return to work, but Seungmin is adamant that you have yet to fully recover. You feel guilty imposing on him financially so much, and he can’t understand why you won’t just rely on him.

“I’m your husband!” he argues.

‘Don’t you think I feel bad binding you to that responsibility?’ you sign back, in tears.

He stares at you after that, bewildered. A moment later, he drops his head so you can’t see his eyes and turns for the bedroom without another word.

You slump onto the kitchen chair furiously rubbing tears from your vision. You feel bad of course, but you are scared. Is he sick of you by now? He has to be. After all, you’ve been nothing but a frustration this past month. At least if you put food on the table, he would have one less reason to want to divorce you. Of course, you know Seungmin would never leave you, but he might silently wish he could, and that makes you feel even worse.

You sniffle, drawing your hand roughly across your eyes. In your split second of visual acuity, you see something glimmer under the light where Seungmin had stood. It catches your attention and upon closer inspection, you realize what it is: a tear. A tear? But why would it be there? Seungmin may feel responsible to support you, but you refusing his help shouldn’t undermine him to the point of tears. Unless, you realize, it isn't the subject of the argument that made him cry. 

You recall the last thing you expressed before he ran to the bedroom. You recall how he looked at you, hurt and confused. You’ve seen that look once a month ago when you suggested he divorce you. You thought he was offended by your questioning his loyalty as your best friend. In fact, you thought the same thing when he gave you that look again tonight, but Seungmin wouldn’t cry because of that. So then, what would explain the tear on the ground?

And then it hits you.

Suddenly, the things that confuse you become clear. Your frustration melts into understanding and you realize his intentions. At once, your tears dry and your heart feels light.

You immediately stand up. You practically run to the bedroom and find Seungmin already sitting among the sheets.

He looks up when he hears you enter. ‘Come to bed,’ he signs wearily. ‘We can discuss this again tomorrow.’ He goes back to arranging the blankets but looks up once more when he realizes you haven’t climbed in. “Y/N?”

You pull out your phone and walk over to his side of the mattress. He had you record yourself saying random things before you lost your voice, but there is one file he doesn’t know you recorded on your own.

“Y/N? What’s wrong?” he asks, perplexed by the sudden determination in your stride.

‘Kim Seungmin,’ you sign. You max the volume on your phone and press play. “I love you.”

~ ad.gold